Among the Unseen (17 page)

When the darkness lifted, Cedar’s vision was assaulted by blue. She almost took a step forward, but then she looked down and froze. She was standing on the edge of a cliff. Waves crashed into the rocks below her, and the ocean stretched out as far as she could see, blending in with the hazy azure sky at the horizon. Then she noticed someone standing next to her. Brighid’s long hair flowed out behind her like the sails of a great ship. She was dressed in a long white gown that floated gently around her, defying the strong winds that whipped and tangled Cedar’s hair.

Brighid turned and started to walk inland. Silently, Cedar followed, looking around for some clue as to where—and when—they were. As they crested a small hill, Cedar could see a group of men building a structure out of wood. They seemed to be in the center of a small island—Cedar could see glimpses of blue on the horizon in all directions. Brighid continued toward the men, and Cedar hurried to keep up. None of the men seemed to notice Brighid, until one man on the edge of the building site glanced up in their direction and jumped back with a shout.

“What is it, Colum?” one of the others shouted. The man named Colum stared at Brighid, who stood quite still in front of him, and then gave an uneasy glance back at the others. It was obvious that they noticed nothing out of the ordinary—certainly not a regal woman dressed all in white. Colum turned his gaze back to Brighid.

“I have come from the Lord,” she said. Immediately, Colum dropped to his knees.

“He’s having another vision, like the one that brought him here to Iona,” Cedar heard one of the other men mutter, and they all pulled back a respectful distance.

“What do you want with me?” Colum asked.

Brighid smiled and helped him to his feet. “You will do great things for your Lord,” she told him. “Your exile from your native land will not be in vain. But the Lord asks a favor of you.”

“Anything,” he said, unable to look Brighid in the face. Cedar listened, enraptured.

“You have heard my name,” she said. “Brighid of Kildare, they call me. The Lord has seen fit to send me to give you this task.”

“Brighid of the holy fire,” he whispered, falling to his knees once more.

Brighid let him stay there, and opened her hand. Eight blue jewels lay glittering in her palm. As Cedar watched, their colors glistened and shifted like the waves of the ocean. Colum couldn’t keep his eyes off them.

“You will build a holy fortress here,” she said. “You must keep these jewels and protect them at all costs.” She snapped her hand shut and tucked the jewels away in a pouch at her waist.

“Of…of course,” he stuttered. “But…why me?”

“Ireland is changing, and you are at the center of that change. Where there is power, there is safety. And I’ve been watching you, Colum Cille. You have a strong heart.”

“Are you a spirit?” he asked.

“Something like that. The importance of these jewels cannot be overstated. You must protect them with your life, and see that others do the same, throughout the generations. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “But if I knew what they were, I would be better able to protect them.”

“You need only know that the Lord commands it.”

Colum bowed even lower, so that his forehead almost touched the ground.

“I will not leave them with you now,” Brighid continued. “But later today a servant of mine named Eoghan, and one of his brothers, will arrive wishing to enter your service and join your community. You will accept them without question into your company. They will have the jewels with them, and they will guard them. When they die, others will come to take their place. They will know little of your religion, but you will teach them. Be kind. They are not to be harmed by you or your enemies.”

Colum ducked his head. “It will be as you say.”

“If word gets out that you have eight holy gemstones here in your community, you will be more vulnerable to attack,” she pointed out. “The Lord wishes you to speak of this to no one, save those who will succeed you, so that they, too, can carry out his holy commands.”

Colum nodded vigorously. Brighid rested her smooth white hand on top of his head.

“The Lord gives you his blessing,” she said softly. “Now go and do great things, Colum Cille.”

Once again, the world around Cedar started to swirl, the colors of the countryside blending together in a haze. She could no longer see Colum or Brighid, which worried her. For a moment she thought Brighid might have died, and that she’d become trapped in her friend’s fading consciousness. But then her vision cleared, and a new scene appeared before her…but not one she had been expecting.

She was in a white-walled home with large open windows. Outside, Cedar could see a lush vineyard under a blazing sun. The room she was in was sparsely decorated, with a few vases and urns clustered in a corner, and flowers hanging from vines that crept across the ceiling. In the center of the room was a large, low bed. Reclining on this bed were Brighid and a very handsome man with thick red hair and a neatly trimmed beard. They were lying naked in each other’s arms, the sunlight bouncing off their sweat-soaked skin, and Cedar automatically looked away. But then Brighid spoke, and Cedar snapped to attention.

“Thor, my love, this might be one of the longest romances I’ve ever had,” Brighid purred, trailing a finger along his red beard.

Cedar’s mouth dropped open.
Thor?
Her knowledge of Norse mythology was limited to the Marvel universe, but if anyone were to have the god of thunder as her lover, it would be Brighid. She crept closer to the bed so that she wouldn’t miss a word.

He grinned at her and kissed the top of her head. “For me as well,” he said. “I only wish I had found you sooner. I fear I had some competition among your human admirers,” he added with a wink.

Brighid laughed. “As much as I love my humans, most of them can’t do what you just did.” She stretched languorously and gave a satisfied sigh.

“Why
do
you love them so much?” Thor asked. “Why choose to live here, when you could be in Tír na nÓg?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Why do you choose to live in Asgard? Don’t you find it rather tedious, living century after century with the immortals, where everyone can do anything? Dull, dull, dull. Ériu, on the other hand, is
fascinating
. To watch these people deal with grief, loss, sickness, hunger, day after day…it’s positively inspiring. There’s so much more
life
here.”

Thor seemed to consider this. “But…they’re so weak, these humans,” he said.

“I beg to differ.
We
are the weak ones, because we very rarely face a challenge we cannot easily overcome. Look at you,” she said, running her hands along his sculpted arms. “You were born into a royal family, with extraordinary strength and skill and a magic hammer that can destroy anything it touches. I do not mean to belittle your achievements, but you did not become who you are through years of toiling in the fields and battling to protect your wife and children from harm and starvation. They are stronger than we will ever be, I’m afraid.”

“But doesn’t it bother you that these humans you love so much worship a new god?” he asked.

“The Irish, you mean?”

Thor nodded. “Don’t you feel…spurned?”

Brighid laughed. “I
never
feel spurned, darling, though if you were to leave me for a milkmaid I might change my mind. It honestly doesn’t bother me at all. Besides, I think the Irish have a bit of a god complex themselves. We are not so much their gods as their heroes, their champions, their legends. We are their history, their identity. People never stop believing in such things, even if they move on to other so-called gods.”

Thor looked thoroughly bewildered. “You don’t thirst for revenge on this new god who has taken over?”

Brighid pulled him down for a long, slow kiss. Releasing him, she said, “Revenge has its place. But not in this matter. The humans have not turned away from us; they have merely added another god to their repertoire. The Tuatha Dé Danann and all the other magical beings of Ériu will always be a part of them. I have never been more certain of anything.”

Thor looked so nonplussed that Brighid laughed again. “I’m a lover, not a warrior,” she said. “But there really is no need for revenge. And as far as I know, the rest of the Danann are happy in Tír na nÓg. Aren’t you happy in Asgard? You could always come settle down here with me, you know.”

“Asgard is perfect,” Thor said stonily. “And it will never be taken from us. But this god they call Christ is encroaching on our lands here on Earth, and our people in the North. Every day, more of them turn from us and declare their allegiance to him. Some remain faithful—they wear my emblem to proclaim that they will not turn. But their numbers are dwindling. And so we must look to other lands that can be conquered, other peoples to subdue, other followers to be gained.”

Brighid eyed him sharply. “That sounds like Odin talking, not you. The raids on Ireland by the Northmen—is that
your
doing?”

Thor reached down and lifted the covers to his shoulders. Brighid tugged them down to his waist again, her own naked body still sprawled on top of the sheets. “My father believes that if we conquer new lands, the people will worship him, as is his due. Forgive me for saying so, but he saw the weakness of the Tuatha Dé Danann in Ireland. It seemed as though they were willing to just hand over their land and followers to the upstart god without a fight. It was an opportunity he could not pass up.”

“I see. So he saw a land in transition and decided to capitalize on the chaos?”

“Something like that,” he muttered.

“Hmm. And how has that worked out so far?” Brighid asked, one eyebrow delicately raised.

Thor glowered. “You know perfectly well. Many of my Northmen have converted to the new religion of the Irish. Now they are bringing it home to our lands, where it is taking root.”

“Odin must be furious,” Brighid remarked calmly.

“He wishes to destroy this new god. But…” Thor looked around furtively, as if ensuring that Odin’s ravens were not perched on the windowsills. “My father does not have the strength he once did. I have counseled him against an outright war, and for once he seems to be taking my advice. I think he realizes this might be a battle we cannot win.”

“Well, you are wiser than he is,” Brighid said, making absentminded circles with her fingers across Thor’s smooth chest. “You cannot force people to follow you, no matter how many battles you win. The humans are not fools—at least, most of them are not. Nor are they slaves, though I’m sure your father would disagree with me there. But they have a profound capacity for belief. I would stake everything on it. In fact, I have.”

“What do you mean?” Thor asked.

Brighid paused, staring up at him through her dark eyelashes. “You’ll be the only one I’ve told, you know. Besides my druid, that is.”

“You know you can trust me with anything,” Thor said.

Cedar listened as Brighid told Thor about the eight jewels and the spell she had cast over the Unseen, though she left out the fact that she, too, was bound by this spell. She told him how she had hidden the jewels with the monk Colum Cille, who was now renowned as the creator of the Book of Kells and the greatest of Ireland’s men of the cloth. Cedar wanted to scream at Brighid to stop talking, but she knew this conversation had already happened. By now, she had also figured out what the consequences would be.

“These jewels…they have the power to control belief?” Thor asked, his brow furrowed.

Brighid narrowed her eyes. “That is not what I said, so don’t get any ideas,” she said, her voice suddenly serious. “I told you: belief cannot be forced. You would do well to take that message to your father.”

Thor nodded slowly. “My father…he has not been himself lately. He is consumed by the need to keep his followers—or gain new ones. It is his obsession.”

“Well, my dear, perhaps sooner or later he will come to see that there are more pleasant obsessions to be had,” Brighid said, stretching out on the bed again and drawing him toward her.

Thor leaned into her, and Cedar was relieved when the room started to swirl around her in a blend of whites and yellows.