Undone Deeds (37 page)

Her attention lifted over my head. I hesitated, feeling a little silly that she might be pulling the look-behind-you trick, then turned to follow her gaze. Out of the west, the sky burned blue, blue like indigo, like the deepest well of the ocean. Like the Dead. At their head, Ceridwen rode the dream mare on its cloud of smoke and embers. Her red cape flared in the wind of her passage, her great antlered helm warning everyone from the path of the Hunter of the Dead. And the Dead followed after her, the Dead of the ages, elf and fairy, dwarf and druid, all adversaries in life, now united in death.

The People of the Way withdrew, opening their formation as the Hunter came through. Ceridwen and her followers took up position, their smaller numbers in the face of the Danann host made up for by the fear they instilled in the people around them.

Ceridwen reined in the dream mare next to me. Maeve narrowed her eyes, a sensing pulse emanating from her face. Ceridwen
surprised her by thrusting the scan back with her hand.

“I have met the King of the Dead. You are not the true Hunter,” Maeve said.

“No, I am not he, but I am a hunter who has found her prey,” Ceridwen said. She removed her helm, letting her thick red braids fall to her waist, as she dismounted. The Dananns behind Maeve shifted in place, surprised to see one of their own come back from the Dead.

I felt a tug as Ceridwen called the spear with a mental command. Curious, I let it go. The spear hovered through the air and into her grasp. She thrust her arm up. “I hold the Spear of Truth. I am Ceridwen, underQueen of the Seelie Court. I was betrayed into my death at the order of the High Queen.”

Brion Mal stepped forward, anger sending flashes of red swirling through his wings. “What druid trick is this?”

Lift up your sword, macGrey. Show them the stone,
Ceridwen sent. Still unsure as to her plan, I lifted the sword. The faith stone pulsed, a radiant haze that wafted into the sky and gave strength to her words.

Ceridwen approached Mal. My breath caught as the two faced each other, the same resolute brow, keen gaze, and royal bearing. “This is no trick, my liege. My blessing is upon this man. Avenge your daughter for the Seelie Court. Show the High Queen the same mercy she showed me,” Ceridwen said. As she spoke, the carnelian ring she had given me flashed on my sword hand.

Mal looked like he was about to explode. “Ceridwen? Is it truly your shade, daughter?” Mal said.

“Aye, Father,” she said.

An astonished murmur ran through the assembled Dananns. The air rippled with sendings as Mal stalked toward Maeve. She didn’t retreat before him but held her scepter higher for all to see. “We are the High Queen. We are the Seelie Court. Do not believe this traitor’s trickery. Ceridwen underQueen died at his hand.”

Mal raised the hilt of his sword to his face, pointing the blade upward. A red burst of essence flashed on his own hand,
revealing a ring. The ring on my finger responded by flaring brighter. They were matched. “You lie, Maeve,” he said. “This man holds the blessing of Clan Mal in his hand. You have broken faith with your own people. You have denied yourself the right to our arms at your side.”

He lifted his sword straight up and rose in the air. Sendings vibrated in the air as Mal sent orders out to his followers. The Fianna lifted into the air after him. Bank after bank of Dananns disengaged from formation and flew off toward the sea.

Keeva brought down the Guildhouse contingent and arrayed them behind me. In a flash of white light, Manus ap Eagan appeared next to Keeva. He didn’t appear triumphant, but saddened. “It pains me that you lost your way, Maeve. Abdicate, and this is over.”

Maeve held her hand toward him, palm outward. “I name you traitor to the crown, Manus ap Eagan, and strip you of all your rights, titles, and privileges.”

“The crown is no longer yours,” he replied.

Confusion broke out among the remaining Dananns as more joined the departing fey. Many of them. Not all. Maeve still controlled considerable forces of her own.

Ceridwen held the High Queen in a cold, steady gaze. “How does it feel to be abandoned in your time of need, Maeve? You shall suffer what I have suffered.”

Maeve pursed her lips. “So be it, Ceridwen. I do not fear the consequences. Death has not stopped your revenge. It will not stop mine.”

Ceridwen moved closer, smiling now. She pointed the spear at Maeve. “Do not be so sure, betrayer. TirNaNog is no more. Guard your life well. The Land beyond the gate no longer waits for you.”

Ceridwen mounted the dream mare and tossed me the spear. “Your move,” she said. With one more look at Maeve, she snapped the reins and rejoined the Dead.

Unmoved, Maeve returned her attention to me. “The power of Audhumla will be mine regardless. Once released, you will be lost in the maelstrom, and I will pluck the tools from your corpse.”

“I guess that’s what’s you’re going to have to do, Maeve. I will fight you to my dying breath,” I said.

“Then you will die,” she said.

Dylan and Callin moved in front of me, their shields shimmering as they wove a protection wall around me. I hadn’t seen Cal in action in years. I had forgotten how good he was. How I could have believed all this time that he had failed his calling humbled me.

“You cannot stop me,” she said.

Murdock raised his gun. “A bullet will stop a lot of things.”

“Leo….” I said.

“She killed my father and my mother. My brother is dead because of her,” he said.

“Leo, don’t. You can’t kill her in cold blood,” I said. Dylan and Callin shifted to either side of me, uncertain as they maintained the shield.

“One bullet. I can end this with one bullet,” he said.

“It won’t end for you. You know you will have to live with it,” I said.

“Kill the man behind you, human,” Maeve said. “He’s the one for you to blame. He made your father bitter. He made your brother go mad. He made your mother a whore, child. End him, and you will end this. I promise you rich reward if you stand by me.”

Leo’s gun wavered in his hand. He inhaled deeply, then found his resolve again, tightening his grip on the cold steel of his weapon. “Do you know what the Devil is, lady? The master of lies. He makes lies seem like truth. And you know what faith is? The way to see through lies.”

Leo lowered his weapon. “I will defend him against you. I will kill you if I have to, but you won’t make me a murderer.”

I gripped his shoulder, more proud of him than I thought I’d ever been of anyone. I flattered myself thinking Murdock stood by me. His faith made him stand by truth. I happened to be on the same path and was glad of it.

Maeve tilted her head, a strong sending permeating the air. A shout went up
from the Dananns who had not abandoned her, and they descended. An answering cry went up from the ground, and essence raged as the battle was joined. With her hands spread wide, Maeve released a bolt of essence. When it struck the pillar, the granite burned white with power. The ground trembled as the pillar rose, stretching taller. “I have touched the source and set it free at last. You cannot stop it,” she said.

The spear flared, burning in my hand, a molten sliver of the Wheel of the World. An odd sensation of joy mixed with sorrow came over me. “I never said I wanted to.”

I sheathed my sword and took the stone bowl out of my jacket. It had come alive with light, static dancing in the recess. I glanced at Maeve, then slammed the base of the bowl against the pillar, holding it against the stone. Lifting the spear, I shoved it into the recess of the bowl. It bored into the granite as if it were clay. I convulsed as essence coursed into me through the conduit I had made, the purity of essence that nurtured all things, the source, Audhumla, the sacred being that gave life. I stretched out my hand. Surprised, Maeve backed away.

“Moo, bitch.”

Essence exploded out of me and hit her in flames of white. It flung her into the sky, and she soared upward, a rag doll flailing in a tangle of smoke and tattered wings. She burned across the sky, trailing smoke and essence. And

White.

I remember this place. I tumble through the white, living and dying with the fall. There is no up here or down, no east or west, north or south. All of it is one. I focus my thoughts, calm the initial panic of arriving, and the falling slows.

Everything is white. It always is here. White is everything.

I stop falling. Whiteness fills my vision with nothing to break the relentlessness of it. Above me, the white simply is, as if the air itself is color. Or no color. As if nothing else exists except the white. I hang limp in the air, as if there is no air, no gravity.

I stare into a nothingness of white. I am here again. Around me, I see shadows of light flickering in the depths of the white, white-on-white shadows that spin and whirl, roll and stop, taunting me with patterns that disintegrate as they take shape.

And then they take shape.

Two vast shadows resolve out of the white. They move toward me, or I toward them. One is a man, taller, barrel-chested, his
hair flows in waves, his beard a cascade. The other is a woman, curved, her hair black as a raven’s wing, and her face—Danu’s blood, her face—Danu’s….

I shudder. I do not believe in gods and goddesses. I do not seek the supernatural to explain the unexplained. And yet…. my body goes weak with understanding. I do not know if they are what they seem, but I know who she is, and I tremble with her presence.

“You are here and here and here,” she says.

“Lady, tell me what to do,” I say.

The man laughs a bass tone that fills me with awe and joy. “Tell him, Mother. Tell us.”

She looks at him. I cannot see her face for the radiance of it. “The Wheel of the World turns as It will.”

He laughs and laughs. “You’ve interfered, Mother. I saw it. I remember this man.”

“I acted. I did not guide,” she said.

“Who is this man, Mother? I see him and see him and see him.”

“You see the Ways, my son. You walk the Ways and see all.”

The joy slips on his face, a troubled crease to his massive brow. “The Ways have closed, Mother. I see him, but I do not see all.”

“Not all of them, my son. Not all. As long as one Way remains, the Wheel turns,” she says.

He cocks his head as he looks at me, the colors in his eyes shifting like the sea in a storm. “Have you ever met someone and felt like you’ve known him forever?” he asks.

“No,” I say.

He laughs, with a deep rumble in his wide chest.

“Liar,” he says. “Liar.”

“I have met several who are all the same. I think they’re you,” I say.

“True,” he says. “True.”

“Have I died?” I ask.

“Have you lived?” he asks, and roars with laughter like the sound of time out of time.

She reaches out to me, her hands aglow. She reaches out to me and holds my face. “You live and die, and the Wheel turns. You strive and toil, and the Wheel turns. You elect and decline, and the Wheel turns.”

“Tell me what to do. Please. Tell me what to do,” I say.

She kisses me, her lips like light. “Choose,” she says.

“Change,” he says.

And they are gone. They are there and not there.

I am alone.

I fall into the white. I fall and fall, and I see shadows of white-on-white. The white grows white. A shape takes shape. A circle forms and a spire. The spire begins in the white and ends in it. The circle contains it yet cannot hold it.

I see the shape, and the shape is a circle. It grows dark white. Still white. White stone. Granite. It is a stone ring of infinite doors, a circle of many Ways. It is a stone circle with a standing center stone.

I made that. I made it with my mind and my heart. It holds the power of all, all is one, like a wheel, and I laugh. Like the Wheel of the World.

I reach out and gather it in my hand, feel its power, its joy, and its sorrow. I can fix this. I can change this. I can make it right. I can make it all, and everything in it will be mine. I can make it right. The power surges into me, surges and flows and does not stop. It is more than everything. I can become one with it and make it mine. It surges and flows, and it is infinite. And….

It is too much.

I pause. The power pauses. I feel it waiting, ready to surge through me with no end. It is too much. Too much for me. Too much for anyone. That is its strength and its flaw. It cannot be contained. It cannot be free. It is too much for anyone. It needs everyone. I cannot hold it. I do not want it. I want a choice. I want change. To turn, the Wheel of the World must have choice and change, and everything in It—everyone—must choose and change as they will so that It may turn.

I gather what is in me and thrust it back, let the power surge and flow into the
ring of stone. It surges and flows. It opens the Ways. All the Ways open, and the Wheel turns.

And I fall in ecstasy and sorrow for what is and always is.

Change is change. It is not Light. It is not Dark.

It is Grey.

I woke up on the ground, facing the sky and smelling burning flesh. Smoke tumbled across the Common, thick, acrid billows flickering with essence and fire and death. Bodies surrounded me, dozens, maybe hundreds. I pulled myself up and leaned against the pillar.