The spiral of life, p.16
The Spiral of Life, page 16
The screams finally faded, and Eilean collapsed to the ground. Her breathing was heavy and she was covered in sweat. Her legs were weak and shaking, but she tried to get to her feet. Once she was up, she wiped the blood covering her palms onto the front of her pants and took a heavy breath.
“Freya?” Eilean croaked out. It felt like she’d been the one screaming at how sore her throat was.
She turned around to find Freya cradling her head in her hands on the ground. Eilean came to her side and hovered a hand above her back. “Freya, are you okay?”
Freya’s hands shook as she removed them from her ears. “What was that?”
Eilean had no idea. She looked around, hoping for a sign, but all she saw was the fog, terrifying trees and—
“Gravestones.”
All around them, up against the trees, dotted across the ground, standing above the fog, were graves. A chill ran up her spine at the thought of dead bodies beneath her feet.
Freya got to her feet and moved closer to one of them. “There aren’t any names on them.” Freya said, confused. “Aren’t there usually names?”
“These are the lives that have not yet passed,” came a disembodied voice.
Eilean’s hand jumped to Phobia’s hilt. Freya had nothing to protect herself with. If she needed to shield Freya, she wouldn’t hesitate to draw the blade.
“Who’s there?” Eilean shouted in an attempt to be brave. The crack in her voice wasn’t helpful.
Ahead, the trees began to part. Branch arms reached down to pull their roots from the ground, cracking and splintering their wooden bodies. With each tug, the trees moved themselves backward. It was as if they were running away. The fog at their feet receded at a speed that had both Eilean and Freya stumbling backward.
The fog sped toward two tree trunks standing side by side. There mist collected between the trees from top to bottom in a creepy, smoky mirror-like image. And as quickly as it had risen, the fog dropped and faded, leaving behind a dark hole—and a woman.
The woman walked toward them slowly. Her skin was paler than the moon, translucent and sickly as it hugged unnaturally against her bones. She wore a white strapless dress that fell loosely around her body, reaching just below the knees. Her hair was long and dark, framing empty black-pit eyes.
“What…” Freya started. Eilean commended her bravery at being able to speak first. “What are you?”
The woman paid Freya no notice. Her solid black eyes were fixed solely on Eilean.
“You know what I am,” she said in a gentle whisper that echoed all around them, resonating in an unholy refrain.
It was the scream that had Eilean thinking back to Mamó’s stories. The scream from a woman who looked like death. She knew what and who she was. She was the one who decided the fate of those who would die. No amount of begging or pleading would move her. Once her third scream was heard, it was only a matter of time.
“You’re the Death Bhradain said we’d meet.” Eilean tugged Freya behind her. “You’re a Banshee.”
The Banshee smiled, her teeth pure white and blinding. “Welcome to my home,” she whispered. “I have been expecting you.”
23
HEED DEATH’S WARNINGS
It’s never a good sign to hear that Death has been waiting for you. Eilean thought it was probably the worst thing anyone could hear. Except maybe her scream.
“What do you want with us?” Freya stepped toward the woman in either an act of courage or stupidity. Probably both.
The Banshee laughed. It was a strange sound, closer to the noise that a dying vacuum makes than actual laughter. “I want nothing from you. It is you who wants something from me.” The Banshee bared her teeth in a smile. “You may call me First, for I am the first of the Banshee. Second mistress to Death.”
Oh great, Eilean thought as she gripped her sword’s hilt tighter. There’s more than one of them.
“What do you mean we want something from you?” Eilean questioned. “You’re Death, right? You’re the one guarding the entrance to the woods?”
First stared at her. Eilean tried to get a read on the creature, but the blankness in her eyes and the stillness of her body betrayed nothing. “Yes, I guard the entrance.”
“So, we have to do something for you to get through, right?”
“No.”
Freya, with her hands tucked under her armpits to keep warm, stepped closer. “Then why do we have to meet you to get there? Can’t you just tell us where the entrance—”
“It is through this door,” First interrupted, gesturing with her pale hand toward the two trees where she had entered.
“The black hole?” Eilean asked, staring at said hole that resided between the two foggy trees. “Great, cause that’s not ominous at all.”
The dying vacuum laugh wheezed out once more. “You amuse me, Eilean Ruth Elsbeth MacAlistair.”
Ice filled her veins at hearing her full name. She never heard her full name. Last time it was probably used was at her Communion when she was seven, and all she cared about that day was the bread and Ribena. Hearing it now, from a creature of Death, felt… ominous. Eilean gripped tighter on her sword hilt, trying to ignore the sparks tickling her fingertips. Now was not the time to lose her cool.
“So we just walk through the hole?” Eilean asked her. “No tricks, just walk right in, no problem?”
First stared at the fog made door. “You may walk through that door,” her gaze returned to the girls, “but your line knows more than most that nothing is without cost.”
Eilean had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Of course.
“All right, lay it on us.” Eilean let go of her sword and crossed her arms. Freya was giving her a look that read very much as a warning. She was, after all, sassing the most well-known Celtic creature of Death. “What’s the catch? Another giant? A God who we’ve got to do a side quest for? What is it?”
Freya had been right to try to warn her.
In a blink, First stood a hair’s breadth from Eilean. Her already translucent skin had faded even more so, showing the white of her bones. An unreadable blankness on her face twisted to the state of a silent scream. Her dark hair flung back, as if trapped in a wind Eilean couldn’t feel, forcing Eilean to stare straight into the pit of her eyes. A pit that wasn’t as empty as Eilean had first thought.
Within her gaze, Eilean saw her death. Or deaths, she should say. For her ending seemed to be in flux. In one version, she lay in a hospital bed, old and haggard, clearly having lived a full and long life. She was surrounded by, she assumed, her children, who were saying goodbye to her as her eyes closed. Another, she was older, maybe in her forties. Freya was by her side, which confused her. Bhradain too, which was even weirder. She didn’t know what was happening. She didn’t look like she should be dying, but she could feel it. Feel the life being drawn out of her until the woman in front of her let out her final breath. Many versions appeared in the Banshee’s eyes, and Eilean saw them all. Only when Freya pulled at her arm and stepped between the two did the visions fade.
“What are you doing?” Freya snapped, a crack to her voice the only sign of her fear.
First bowed her head, almost as if she were apologizing. “Answering your question.”
“W-why did you show me that?” Eilean managed to get out.
“You must know what could come to pass,” First replied, her tone no longer passive but urgent, almost anxious. “Once you pass through to the Withering Woods, you will face a test that will change the course of your future.”
Freya raised her hand. “Why is there a test?”
The Banshee shook her head. “I do not know. There is something in the woods, something that has captured Cernunnos, that is making its own rules for my part of the world.” First’s skin paled further. “And now I can no longer enter all of my domain. Something is keeping me away.”
“How are we meant to pass through, then?” Eilean asked, a tremble to her voice the only sign she was still affected by what she’d seen. “If you can’t, how can we?”
“One of your kind has passed through already.”
Freya and Eilean glanced at each other. Danu had said something about her not being the first. She had assumed that meant the person who’d come before had failed. But, if they’d made it this far, what happened to them that they couldn’t save the God?
Eilean thought back to the futures she’d been shown and shivered at the thought of what the first person to come here had gone through. Mamó’s stories of the heroes from Celtic myth, and others, often had their ending in death or everlasting misery. Whether it be Arthur and Excalibur, a King prophesied to die before completing his mission. Or Cúchulainn who was told he would be one of the greatest remembered heroes but, as a result, would die young. She thought of her Mamó back home and felt a fear that she was about to become one of the people in her stories.
“Those who shine bright can burn the fastest,” Mamó would say. Eilean could only hope she hadn’t shone enough yet for that to be true.
“Do you know what tests we could expect?” Eilean asked.
“This land is home to the most terrifying of creatures, ones who have no qualms about harming a mortal that crosses them with tricks and games. Whatever may be controlling the Withering Woods, they have many beings to choose from.”
“Lovely,” Eilean muttered. “Well, I guess we’ve got our own terrifying–” She glanced around, suddenly aware that they were missing a member of the team. “Where’s Bhradain?”
“I have kept him away,” the Banshee said quietly. “His kind hold no love for me and mine.”
“But,” Freya spoke up, “aren’t you both creatures of death?”
First offered her bared teeth as a smile. “Yes, and yet we are still different. He is a carrier and bringer of death; I am a predictor. We may be connected in some ways, but my abilities spread beyond mortals. Even creatures of death fear it.”
Well, that’s reassuring, Eilean thought.
“When can we have him back?” Freya asked, surprising Eilean. She and Bhradain weren’t exactly on great terms.
“Soon,” First replied. “There is one more thing you must know.”
“Oh, great. There’s more.”
First raised an eyebrow at Eilean. She kept her mouth shut after that. “Make your choices wisely and know that what you want is not always what you need.”
Before Eilean could even question the Banshee’s cryptic words, the woman collapsed into a pool of mist. A white gravestone appeared where she had once stood. It had no name on it, like all the others, but as the words of First played in her mind, she could only guess what name might appear there if she failed.
The clopping of hooves reached them soon after the Banshee had left. From the trees came a breathless Bhradain. He looked exhausted and borderline panic-stricken.
“What happened?” he panted.
Eilean pointed toward the wall of shadow that lay in front of them. Wisps of black mist slithered out into the air before fading away. They couldn’t see anything beyond the smoke—and part of Eilean thought that was a good thing.
“We found Death,” Eilean said bluntly.
Her voice was unnaturally steady, considering how terrified she felt. She could feel Freya at her side and sense the same fear from her. When she chanced a glance, Eilean found Freya biting at her nails. A new stage of anxiety had been unlocked, it seemed.
“What now?” Freya pulled her thumb away from her mouth as if recognizing what she was doing. “Do we just,” she waved a hand toward the shadow, “walk through and wait for the test to appear, or?”
“Test?” Bhradain questioned.
“Apparently something’s going to distract us or something.” Eilean shrugged. “I don’t really know, but there’s one way to find out.”
Bhradain snorted uneasily behind her. “Sword-wielders first.”
Of course.
Taking a deep breath, she took a few steps toward the shadowed entrance. The closer she got, the more she noticed the depth of it. The darkness within seemed to get darker and deeper than a simple misty doorway. As she stared, it seemed less like a door and more like a never-ending tunnel.
She could feel Freya and Bhradain behind her, waiting for her to take the first step.
Hand hovering over Phobia’s hilt, Eilean breathed in deeply through her nose and stepped forward into the darkness.
24
THE PAST WILL HAUNT YOU
The darkness did not stay dark for long.
Strange visions crossed Eilean’s mind with every step. She saw herself receiving an apprenticeship offer from Mr. Lawton and her parents, smiling with pride. Another vision showed her with Mamó, who looked healthier than ever as they worked together in the garden. It was as if the two of them had never been separated. She even saw a vision of her family all together, no fighting, no resentment, just… happiness.
Then the darkness faded and took the visions with it.
“Wait…” Eilean reached out to the visions that felt like memories. But she knew they’d never happened, even if she wished they had. Blinking her eyes quickly, she found herself on the other side of the shroud.
Freya and Bhradain stumbled through after her, both looking as disorientated as Eilean felt.
“Did you…?” Freya started asking as she glanced around her. “Did you see something?”
Eilean nodded and turned to Bhradain. “What was all that?”
“I am unsure,” Bhradain said uneasily. “It is not often that monsters like I experience visions like this.” He shook his head. “What did Death tell you?”
“That…” She ran a hand nervously through her hair. “That we would be tested before we could make it to the woods.”
Bhradain shook his mane. “That did not feel like a test.”
“What would you call what just happened?” Freya asked quietly, wiping sweat from her brow.
“A trick.” Bhradain glanced around as if he were waiting for confirmation. “For it should not be this easy to make it to the Withering Woods.”
Whirling around, Eilean came face-to-face with a dark, foggy forest that towered into the sky.
Just like the graveyard, a grove of wintery trees spread far and wide before them. They blended together in a way that made it hard to distinguish which branches belonged to which tree or even how deep the woods went. Unlike the frozen land they were in before, here they had returned to the autumnal feeling of empty branches, mulch covered earth, and the sharp tangy scent of dying plant-life. Or at least, Eilean hoped it was the scent of dying plants.
“That’s…” Eilean walked toward the trees, focusing on a gnarled and curled tree archway in the center. “That’s a creepy-looking entrance.”
The archway was similar to the one they had passed through but was filled with thick gray smoke, smoke so thick that Eilean had almost mistaken it for a concrete wall. What stood out as particularly strange to Eilean was the fact that none of the smog was spreading beyond the trees. It was like it was trapped there.
She stepped closer and reached out a hand. “Weird.”
As she pulled her hand back, a waft of the fog came with it, flowing up to Eilean as she took in a breath. She instantly started hacking and coughing. The bitter smell of car exhaust and the taste of rotten food filled her senses. Eilean stumbled away from the smoke.
“What happened?” Bhradain asked her.
“That’s… that’s not fog,” Eilean coughed.
Through her blurry vision, she glanced up at Bhradain, who stared at the wood. “Something has polluted the land.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Freya walked toward the arch. Was Freya trying to get a closer look out of curiosity? Before Eilean could warn her, she disappeared into the smog.
“Freya!” Eilean yelled after her.
Both she and Bhradain ran toward the entrance. Eilean hesitated for only a moment, remembering the burning in her nose and throat, before pushing through her fear and charging after Freya.
Her eyes burned instantly, making them water. She had to hold back a cough as the acrid smell enveloped her senses. Covering her mouth and nose with her hand and closing her eyes, Eilean blindly stumbled forward, desperately searching for Freya. She’d lost Bhradain the moment they’d stepped through. She was all alone and had no idea what to do.
Risking the pain, Eilean removed her hands from her mouth and took a breath.
“Freya!” she choke-screamed. Immediately, her throat started to burn as she breathed in the toxic air. It reminded her of the time she tried a cigarette one of her classmates gave her, as if she’d tried ten of them at once. “Bhradain! Freya!”
A shadow appeared in front of her and she felt a tug at her shirt, finding herself suddenly airborne. Seconds later, she was gulping in clean air and feeling the frost-covered ground beneath her feet. She took a deep inhale and almost cried with relief at finally being able to breathe without pain. As she regained her sight, she saw Bhradain nearby coughing, from the ache at her side and how close he stood to the smoke arch in front of them. She could only assume he was the reason she’d escaped.
That was when she caught sight of Freya lying on the grass at Bhradain’s hooves. Without thinking, Eilean crawled toward her.
“What happened?” Her voice sounded hoarse from the smoke inhalation, but the intensity in her tone was still clear as day.
“I… I don’t know.” Freya coughed. Her voice sounded as dry as a fifty-a-day chain smoker. “There was this voice, it was… it was calling for my help.”
“A trick.” Bhradain shook his head. “There’s always a trick.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Eilean asked Freya, ignoring Bhradain for now. “It could have been a trap or…” She shook her head. “Whatever you heard, you should have said something.”
