The shuddering underfoot soon lessened, and Brendan wondered what had caused it. But he felt alive, running through that strange forest on solid ground.
They finally left the safety of the trees and quickly crossed an overgrown meadow. The grass was waist-high, even for Brendan, who was well over six foot tall.
Alyss
, barely over five foot, struggled until Brendan jokingly offered to carry her on his shoulders. She determinedly pushed through the grass after that, gaining on the men.
The group ran down a slanted patch of land, and then their leader vanished, disappearing right in front of their eyes. The four of them came to a stop, panting.
“Where did he go?”
Pól
said.
“She
.” The woman popped up from what must have been a secret hole in the ground. She grinned, and her teeth flashed white. “Follow me.”
“To where?” Bran asked.
“The mounds,” she said as though he were foolish. “We’re going underground to see my people.” She shook her head as she gazed at them. “It’s been a long time since we saw anyone like you all. I saw your ship. That surely means only one thing.” She disappeared again.
“Wait!” Brendan cried, too late. Had she been expecting them?
His soldiers investigated the secret entrance. “There’s a long tunnel here!”
Bran looked at Brendan. “What are you thinking?”
“We don’t have a choice. Whoever lives here will know more about the boulders and the First Tree. Maybe they’ll give us a map of the island. We’ve lost the ship for now, but we still need to continue with our mission.”
They all agreed. Brendan made to enter the tunnel first, but Bran got in the way. “I’ll go first,” the boy said so firmly that Brendan didn’t have the heart to stop him.
Bran jumped down, followed by Brendan once the boy shouted up that he was okay. The tunnel was part of the earth. Brendan imagined forgotten
fae
digging into the dirt to escape… what, exactly?
For a time, the tunnel was so dark that they were forced to use their hands to feel their way. The earthen walls were moist at first, but the farther they travelled, the drier the dirt became. It smelled old and dead, but it was still healthier than the soil back home.
As the tunnel widened, flickering torches appeared, giving them some light. The tunnel itself was long and winding; they passed by a number of sections that had apparently collapsed.
“Not feeling so safe right now,” Bran said shakily.
“Come on!” a shadowy figure shouted from ahead, her voice echoing. The tunnel veered right then split. The strange woman waved her hand then ducked into the left fork.
Instinctively, they all increased their speed. They ran through the tunnel, past the fork, and took another couple of turns before they were finally able to stop. What they saw made them all gasp.
Underground, in the…
mound
was a village of sorts.
“What is this place?” Bran asked, looking about him in wonder.
Pillars—both stone and wooden—and planks of wood kept the earth above their heads from falling in. The curved walls were plainly carved out of stone.
“It was a quarry once,” the woman said, hopping from one foot to the other. She was absolutely filthy. Her hair had been braided back and covered with mud. Even her fingernails were completely darkened by dirt. “I’ll take you to the elder. You can tell her everything. Hurry!”
As they walked between huts, people peeped outside to stare at them. The place wasn’t lit by torches, likely because of all the wood, but rather, little glass jars full of fireflies were hung in every possible location—over doorways, from planks of wood, even their path was marked with jars.
“This is so strange,” Bran whispered under his breath, awe glittering in his eyes. “It’s like a dream.”
They slowly followed after the girl until they reached the largest home at the far end of the little community. The girl was beside herself with excitement. She urged them inside the home made of stone. Inside was one large but stuffy living space with a makeshift fireplace, and a fire. Smoke moved through pipes upward, likely outside.
Despite all of the wood outside, there was none in the home. A pile of mattresses made up a bed against one wall. There were no chairs or tables. Every possession was laid out on the floor.
An old woman sat on a rug before the fire, grinding herbs in a stone bowl. The back of her bald head was covered in tattooed marks that Brendan couldn’t begin to decipher. She looked up, entirely unsurprised by their presence.
“Finally.” She set down the bowl and stood. She was almost as tall as Brendan. “They sent you.”
Brendan frowned, too confused to reply.
The woman continued. “You’re here to defeat the Fir
Bolg
for good, aren’t you?”
“Fir
Bolg
?” He shook his head. “No, we’re here for the First Tree.”
The woman glanced at the girl who had led them there. “
Eira
, these are the people from the ship?”
“Yes,”
Eira
said. “The ship left because the giants flung rocks. These are the only ones who came ashore.”
“And they’re so small.” The old woman sounded disappointed. “Too small to be our kin.” Her eyes lingered on Brendan. “But I was so sure.”
“
Dafina
, is it really true?”
Eira
asked in dismay. “Are these not the ones?”
“Who were you expecting?” Bran asked.
The old woman,
Dafina
, sat and picked up her bowl again. “Many generations ago, some of our ancestors left to find aid. The rest of us were driven underground.”
“By these Fir
Bolg
?” Brendan asked.
She blinked in surprise. “Where are you from that you know not of the Fir
Bolg
?”
“Across the sea,” he said. “Where are we? There’s a blight in our land. We heard of a tree that might help us cleanse the earth.”
“They’re talking about
our
trees,”
Eira
said. “They are, aren’t they?”
“Perhaps,”
Dafina
replied.
Brendan looked at the elder woman. “
Your
trees?”
“The
Crann
Bheatha
,”
Eira
said dreamily.
“The Tree of Life.” The old woman pressed her lips together so tightly that they disappeared completely. “Perhaps you should tell us your story.”
“Only if you’ll tell us yours,” Brendan said quickly.
She allowed him a smile.
“Are you
daoine
sídhe
?” Bran asked.
Dafina
exchanged a surprised glance with
Eira
. “You know of
us
?”
“
Daoine
sídhe
fled to our land a long time ago, running from beings they described as giants. Nobody’s crossed the sea between our lands since,” Brendan said. “Where are we?”
“This is
Banba
. You don’t look
Formorian
, so you’re not from
Ériu
. That’s the closest land to us.”
“They must be from
Inis
Fáil
,” the girl said enthusiastically. “It’s real,
Dafina
!”
“It was once known by that name,” Brendan said, “until the land was divided by
Brighid
.”
“
Brighid
escaped the mad god?” The old woman brightened. “Then it’s not too late.”
Escaped
?
“Who are you waiting for exactly?” Brendan asked.
“Our history is long and tragic,” she said. “The Fir
Bolg
were the last to come to destroy us. We couldn’t defeat the giants, and most of our gods had already retreated to the Otherworld. We followed the gods known as
Tuatha
de
Danann
, and you must, too, if you know of
Brighid
, for she is our Danu’s granddaughter. We tend the trees you seek with the
uisce
bheatha
, the water of life, and we worship the crows who protect our fate.”
That caught Brendan’s attention. “Crows? Why?”
“The crows are a sign that we are not truly lost. As long as they remain, we know that one day,
Badb
will return to defeat the Fir
Bolg
for good.”
“
Badb
?” A shiver ran down Brendan’s spine. “The warrior queen? That’s who you are waiting for?”
“Yes. When she reaches her true potential, she will be known as the
Morrigan
, and when she has been resurrected three times, she will be accepted into Mag Mell as her reward.”
“What’s Mag Mell?”
Alyss
asked.
Eira
pursed her lips. “They know so little.”
“Mag Mell is the Delightful Plain,”
Dafina
explained. “It’s the true afterlife for those deserving, where heroes and gods alike roam in splendour and contentment.”
Brendan felt ill. The
Darksiders
called Cara
Badb
. And if two different lands had stories of her…
Bran opened his mouth, his eyes bright with excitement. Brendan nudged him and gave a brief shake of his head. Nobody could connect Cara to these people’s problems.
“You say there is a blight on your land,” the old woman said, her eyes narrowing. “What caused it?”
“We’re not completely sure,” Brendan admitted. “We thought it was from a rift in the Fade, but there’s evidence that a god came into play, that perhaps this happened before, and our people allowed themselves to forget.”
“
Ériu
had a blight,”
Eira
said. She had knelt by the old woman to help her grind her herbs. The people who had watched them from their huts had all been dirty, but the old woman was spotless.
“It did,”
Dafina
said. “But the
Formorians
who caused it were banished. Perhaps they found a way to your land. When
Brighid
didn’t return from her final great journey, we thought her lost.”
Brendan’s stomach twisted. These people seemed to be closer to the gods than his own had ever been. What journeys had
Brighid
gone on?
“In our land, the
daoine
sídhe
are champions,” Bran said. “We’re kind of surprised that anything could defeat your people.”
“We are strong, yes, warriors, yes, but long wars dwindled our numbers, and the giants are no easy foe. It will take great magic and sacrifice to defeat those creatures. They are only concerned with destruction.” She gazed at Brendan. “You have noble blood. You could be one of our own.”
“My mother’s line shares
daoine
sídhe blood,” Brendan said.
“He’s a king,” Bran said proudly.
“But not
the
king,” Brendan added with a smile.
“You have the look of a god about you,” the old woman said wistfully. “For an instant, I thought you were a child of Danu reborn. The gods will one day return. I hope I am alive to see it.” She bit her lip. “But perhaps my true journey lies elsewhere. You seek the trees?”