Into the Fire (22 page)

“One of these girls was called Marsha. Her father was a wealthy merchant, and she had everything a girl in those days could dream of. She was also the prettiest girl in the village, with bouncing brown curls and a rosy complexion. But on the inside she was vain and petty, and she had often taunted Utain for her plain looks. Marsha made no secret of her plans to win Donald as a husband. In fact, to hear her talk of it, they had already published the bans and would be married in a fortnight! But if Donald ever felt any affection for her or harbored the same ambition, he never let on. He treated her courteously, as he did all the young ladies who crossed his path. But Marsha’s vanity was such that she led herself to believe he could not possibly find another wife as desirable as her, and she convinced herself that he truly did love her.

“Then one day there was a visitor from the city. A young woman by the name of Aiofe was traveling with her aunt to visit their relatives several villages away. But when they passed by Donald’s family’s farm, their horse grew lame. And so they begged hospitality from Donald’s family in the hopes that the horse would recover with time. Being kind-hearted, Donald’s mother welcomed them in and offered them food and a place to stay. Well, when Donald first saw Aiofe, he felt desire as he had never known before. For she was more beautiful than any woman he had ever seen. Her chestnut hair fell to her waist in thick, glossy waves. She was tall and strong, with curving hips and a full bosom. When she smiled, which was often, her eyes sparkled like stars in the night sky.

“But not only was she beautiful, Aiofe had a vibrant spirit. She would not be waited on and insisted on helping Donald’s mother serve the evening meal and prepare the guest beds. Her aunt said little, and so it was Aiofe who chatted merrily about life in the city and asked many questions about the surrounding countryside.

“The next day their horse was still lame, and Donald said that he would tend to it, if they would do them the honor of staying a little longer. Aiofe’s aunt agreed. By then, word had spread of the beautiful city dweller lodging at the O’Brien farm, who seemed to have finally captured young Donald’s attention. Well, upon hearing this, Marsha flew into a right rage. Early the next morning, before first light, she set out for the O’Brien farm, determined to see this rival for herself and find a way to get rid of her.

“The sun was rising when Marsha approached the farm. She tiptoed around to the back of the house, where she knew the guests would be sleeping. But before she could get to the window, the back door opened. Marsha quickly hid herself behind the hedge. Out of the door crept a young woman, but it was not the beautiful girl from the city. Why, it was none other than Utain, small and
ugly as ever, though of course a few years older than the last time Marsha had seen her. Marsha stood there in shock, wondering what Utain was doing in Donald’s house and why no one had spoken of her return.

“The scrawny girl looked around, a shawl wrapped over her bony shoulders. She wore only a thin shift, but in her arms she carried a fine dress of deep blue silk. Marsha followed the girl down to the river as quietly as she could. It was midsummer, but the water was cold in the early morning, and Utain shivered as she removed her shift and placed it and the dress on the dry bank, entering the water naked. When she was waist deep in the water, she started chanting words in a strange language. Then she bent backward and submerged herself completely. When she rose up out of the water, she was no longer the small, ugly girl from the farm next door. She was a glowing vision of perfection, more beautiful than any woman Marsha had ever seen, like a bright flower growing in the midst of a swamp. Utain gazed at her reflection in the water for a moment and smiled. Then she climbed out onto the bank, clothed herself in the blue dress, and headed back toward the house.

“Well, Marsha had seen enough. Utain had to be a witch—there was no other explanation for it. She dared not confront her directly, but she knew that something had to be done. She returned home and told no one what she had witnessed. The next day, when it was announced that Donald and Aiofe were to be married, Marsha knew that she needed to find some way to expose Utain for who she was and end the engagement before it was too late.

“So Marsha stole some coins from her father’s purse and went to Old Nat, the eldest woman in the village. Some said Nat herself was a witch, others claimed that she had druid blood in her, or was a changeling, switched as a baby for one of the fairy folk. Marsha had never believed these tales, putting no stock in the old ways—until now. She told Old Nat what she had seen and asked for a way
to expose Utain’s deception without putting herself in harm’s way. After Marsha gave her some of her father’s gold, Old Nat told her of the existence of a magic stone that was said to remove enchantments. If Aiofe really was Utain in disguise, she said, the spell would melt away as soon as she stepped on the stone, and Donald would see her for the homely farm girl she was.

“Marsha returned home to continue her scheming. Then she sent a message to Donald and Aiofe with her congratulations, saying that she would like to give them a new mare as a wedding gift and that they could choose the horse themselves. To do this, they would need to come to a certain hill, where Marsha and her grooms would be waiting with several mares for them to choose from.

“Thrilled with Marsha’s kind offer, Donald and Aiofe accepted, and promised to meet her there on the arranged day. When that day arrived, Marsha set out early, with neither groom nor horses, and followed the directions given to her by Old Nat. Nat had told her where the stone could be found, on the hill they called Tara.

“Marsha worried that Nat’s plan might not work, but she had no choice but to go through with it. When Donald and Aiofe arrived, Marsha greeted them warmly. ‘My grooms are bringing the horses now,’ she told them. Then she led Aiofe over to the stone. ‘If you’ll just stand up here, you’ll be able to see them as they crest the hill.’ Aiofe stepped up onto the stone, and then it happened. Her glossy tresses withered and shortened until they were like bits of straw that had been blown about a courtyard. The plumpness of her breasts and hips shrunk until her dress hung loosely on her lank figure. Her cheeks paled and her eyes grew dull. She looked down at herself in dismay and covered her face in her hands. Marsha stood there watching, waiting for Donald’s horrified reaction.

“But it never came. He was surprised, even shocked, to be sure. He stared open-mouthed at the girl before him. But then he rushed to her and crushed her in his arms, saying her name over and over
again. ‘Utain, Utain, Utain.’ Needless to say, this was not the reaction Marsha had been expecting.

“‘She’s a witch!’ she cried. ‘I saw her down at the river, using sorcery to make herself beautiful. She should be hanged!’

“‘Is it true?’ Donald asked Utain. ‘Are you a witch?’

“‘No,’ Utain sobbed. ‘But I went to see one. I loved you so much, you see, but I knew you deserved better. You deserved someone beautiful. I knew… at least, I thought I knew… that I would never be more to you than a friend. And I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t live without you. I ran away; I thought if I didn’t see you every day, I would forget about you. But I didn’t. I nearly drove myself mad with longing. So I went to a witch, and she gave me a spell to perform each morning in the river that would make me beautiful. I thought… I thought maybe then you’d love me. And you did… as Aiofe, not Utain.’

“‘You’re wrong,’ Donald said then, taking her into his arms again. ‘I did love you as Utain. I only loved Aiofe because she was kind, clever, and strong in heart—she reminded me of you, and I thought I had lost you forever. I don’t care about the rest of it, Utain. You are back, and you love me, and that is all that matters.’

“So they went back to their homes, and were very happy together.”

Maggie sat back, a satisfied look on her face. Cedar blinked. She had become so engrossed in the story that it was a surprise to realize that it was over. Finn reached over and squeezed her hand and then leaned over and whispered in to her ear, “I’m sorry. About leaving you behind.”

She looked up into his golden eyes and squeezed his hand back. “Thank you,” she whispered back. “I love you.”

“What happened to Marsha?” Eden asked.

“She returned to the village, where her father had discovered that she had stolen money from him. He decided that he had been far too lax with her. So he sent her to work in the kitchen of his inn
until she could pay back the money she’d stolen—plus interest. She tried to tell him about Utain and Aiofe, but he just laughed at her. ‘You’re as crazy as Old Nat,’ he said. ‘Aiofe has gone back to the city; it seems as though country life wasn’t to her liking after all. But don’t feel too sorry for young Donald. I heard Utain is back, and the boy seems happier with her than he ever did with that pretty girl. Fickle lad, if you ask me, but that’s young people for you.’”

Jane laughed, and Eden said, “I like that story. Can you tell us another one?”

“Maybe another time, dear,” Maggie said. “But I believe you were leaving shortly, is that not so?”

“Wait,” Cedar said. “So you’re saying that the magic stone in this story is the Lia Fáil, and that it’s still at Tara?”

“I have no way of knowing for certain,” Maggie answered, holding up her hands. “But it is an old story, one I learned from my grandfather, and he from his. As I said before, there is a germ of truth to be found in even the most outlandish stories. Was there really a young woman who could change her appearance by baptizing herself in the River Boyne? Was there really a stone that could reveal one’s true self? Impossible to tell for sure, but I’d say it’s at least as likely as the existence of leprechauns,” she said with a wink.

“But the Lia Fáil just roars,” said Jane with a puzzled expression on her face. “It doesn’t ‘reveal one’s true self,’ does it?”

“Maybe… I mean, if one’s true self is the king or queen, it would reveal that, right?” Cedar said uncertainly. She glanced over at Finn, whose brow was furrowed. Liam had stood up and started pacing, glancing every now and again out the window.

“Well, it’s the most recent account we’ve heard of the Lia Fáil,” Finn said. “Or at least of a stone with magical properties. The fact that it’s in Tara makes it even more likely. We know it’s not the standing stone at Tara that they call the Lia Fáil for the tourists—I’ve been there and touched it. Not even the human scholars believe
it is the stone of legend. But it could be somewhere else; Tara is a huge place. Perhaps Murtagh sent a fake to Fergus, and the one they were protecting for so long at Scone Abbey wasn’t the real thing after all.”

The thought made Cedar strangely sad. She remembered the grief of the abbot whose job it had been to guard the stone. He had spent centuries in anguished purgatory for nothing. She was glad that he was finally free. She got to her feet. “Does the story say exactly where it is on this hill?”

“As this young man says, Tara is vast—both in geography and history,” Maggie said. “The story only says that the magic stone was at Tara, nothing else.”

“Well, it’s the best lead we’ve got,” Cedar said. She looked at Eden nervously. “I’m just worried that they’ll manage to get into Eden’s head again, or attack us. But we’re vulnerable to them no matter where we are.”

“You’re right. If they knew we were going to be at the castle, surely they’ll think we’ll head to Tara sooner rather than later, right?” Jane asked. “I mean, if it’s not at Edinburgh and not at Scone, it’s the most obvious place to look, isn’t it? It’s the only place we know for sure had the stone at some point in history. Didn’t you guys—I mean, the Tuatha Dé Danann,” she glanced nervously at Maggie as she corrected herself, “have a kingdom and castles and all that jazz there?”

Felix smiled. “Something like that. Tara is a very old, very special place,” he said. “And it’s fine to let our gracious host in on our secret. When we lived at Tara, it was the royal seat of our High King, and the place where the Council would meet and debate. Not a stone of those buildings has survived, of course. This was several millennia ago. But Tara has been a sacred place since before humans started recording time. It was the center of everything. Now… well, you’ll see once we go there, which should be soon.”

“I know,” Cedar said. Her head was starting to pound, and she pinched the bridge of her nose as she thought. “We have to go… but we also have to assume that they’ll be waiting for us there. If we could figure out exactly where the stone was, maybe I could just slip in and grab it.”

“You can’t just ‘grab’ the Lia Fáil,” Felix said. “It would be far too heavy for you to lift.”

“And we’re not splitting up anymore, remember?” Finn said. Cedar opened her mouth to argue but closed it again. He was right; if they were anywhere near the druids, it would take both Finn and Felix to protect them.

“What about Brighid?” Felix said softly.

Brighid
. Of course. Cedar kicked herself for not thinking of her sooner. She was still upset that Brighid had helped Nuala, but Cedar could hardly blame someone else for falling under the redhead’s spell. After all, she had done so herself. But she had to wonder if Brighid’s self-absorption wasn’t partly to blame for how easily she’d provided Nuala with the information she wanted. But there was no point fretting about that now. Brighid had been on Ériu for more than fifteen hundred years. If anyone knew the true whereabouts of the Lia Fáil, it would be her.

“Of course!” Cedar exclaimed. “We should have gone to see her first. I’m sure she knows exactly where the Lia Fáil is.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Felix said, and Cedar’s smile faltered. “She’s quite intentionally ignored anything to do with our people for some time. I don’t think she would have kept track of the Lia Fáil.

“I figured we could use the backup. We managed to escape the druids last time, but Finn can’t keep turning into a dragon every five minutes if we want to keep a low profile. And we almost lost Eden and Jane.

“As flighty as she might seem, Brighid is more powerful than all of us. If she doesn’t know the exact location of the stone, maybe
she’ll agree to come to Tara with us. She could at least help us fight the druids.”