Naamah's Kiss (Moirin's Trilogy #1)

Oengus inclined his head to me.

Mabon played a lilting measure on his pipe and lowered it with a wistful smile.

"Moirin." My mother embraced me, hard and fierce and wholly herself. "I cannot force Her will. Only know that whatever passes, you are my daughter and the joy of my life. Now and always and forever."

My throat tightened. "I do."

Her dark gaze was intent. "Do you promise it?"

"I do." I returned her embrace, pressing my cheek to hers. "By stone and sea and sky, and all that it encompasses, I swear it."

She pushed me away. "Go, then."

I went.

It was a long, precarious descent, and my senses were disordered by Nemed's brew. I placed my hands and feet with care. My vision pulsed and throbbed. The rocky scree beneath me seemed at once far and near, the grain of the granite extraordinarily vivid and intriguing. At last, I gained the floor of the bowl. I took a deep breath and looked upward. Six small figures stood silhouetted in the mouth of the cavern. Only one raised its hand.

I saluted my mother in reply, then turned around.

The stone door awaited.

Here in the cupped hand of the glade, it seemed larger. The standing stones loomed, supporting a massive slab of granite. The sun had already sunk below the mountain peak. There were no shadows, only the soft blue dimness of incipient twilight. I crossed to stand before the doorway, looking neither to the left nor the right. The grass was surprisingly lush beneath my bare feet. I gazed through the stone door. Beyond, the lake awaited, its surface placid. Other than that, the glade didn't look any different on the far side of the doorway.

"So," I whispered.

The grass whispered back, murmuring vague protests beneath my feet. The pine trees sighed into the twilight.

I stepped through the doorway.

And everything changed.

I gasped; I couldn't help it. Overhead, the sky reeled, filled with stars. It was dark, but it was bright, too. Here, darkness and light were wedded. Everything was visible, everything stood in stark contrast to itself. Every leaf, every blade of grass. All existed, all were filled with splendid purpose.

There are world and there are worlds.

Oh, stone and sea and sky!

It was beautiful, so beautiful.

I fell to my knees and crawled. The placid lake beckoned. I remembered dimly that I was to wait beside it. Near its shore, I sat and waited.

I waited.

And waited.

Nothing and no one came. The stars wheeled overhead in their slow, stately dance. The strange effects of the mushroom tea on my perceptions faded. My belly cramped with hunger, worse than it ought to after a mere day's fast. I longed to drink from the lake to assuage it, but Nemed hadn't said it was permitted, so I didn't dare. I did my best to ignore the pangs. As the hours wore on, a profound weariness settled into my bones. My head grew heavy and nodded. I caught myself and snapped it upward with a jerk. And then it nodded again. Remembering Nemed's caution, I pinched my own flesh until it hurt.

But She did not come.

"Please," I whispered into the bright darkness. "Oh, please!"

There was no answer. The spark inside me guttered, failing. I was tired and hungry and alone. And I began, slowly and horribly, to understand the thing I could not have grasped before. If I failed here today, tonight, I would be bereft of all I had believed myself to be. Bereft of my people, of all that made me who I was. If that happened….. ah, stone and sea! The memory of this place would be poison to me. I would give anything to have it gone.

And there were other gods waiting to claim me.

Somewhere, the bright lady smiled.

I gritted my teeth and forced my impossibly heavy head up from my knees. "No! Gods bedamned, I was Hers first!"

She came.

I sensed Her before I saw Her—a mighty presence moving across the mountainside. Moving through the forest. The guttering spark inside me blazed once more, driving me to my feet despite my terrible weariness. There was a sliver of a moon overhead that hadn't been there before.

On the far side of the glade, I saw Her emerge.

My heart sang inside me.

Moonlight silvered Her brown fur. She paced across the glade, the ground trembling beneath Her massive paws. I stood, dizzy and wavering, filled with awe and joy. Stone and sea, She was vast! As She rounded the lake, it seemed Her head blotted out the stars. And then Her size changed as She drew nearer, fitting Herself to my scale, only twice the size of an ordinary bear—yet no less wondrous for it.

"You're so beautiful," I breathed, scarce able to speak. "So very beautiful!"

The Maghuin Dhonn Herself lowered Her majestic head toward me. Her eyes were dark and wise, filled with a knowledge older than time. I could have stood forever gazing into them. Her nostrils twitched and I felt Her warm breath on my face.

Hers.

I was Hers.

"Thank you." Tears of joy stung my eyes. "Thank you!" I reached out one hand to touch her moon-silvered fur, unable to resist.

She turned away.

I felt a shock of abandonment. "Wait!" I cried, taking a few stumbling steps. "Please, don't go!" Several yards beyond me, She paused and turned Her head. There was sorrow and regret in Her eyes. "Please!" I begged. "I don't know what this means!" Looking toward the cavern for guidance, I cast a glance over my shoulder and gasped.

The stone doorway stood behind me.

But beyond it lay the sea. It sparkled in the bright sunlight, waves rippling and churning, stretching all the way to the horizon. Overhead, gulls wheeled in the blue sky uttering raucous cries.

I looked back.

The Maghuin Dhonn Herself regarded me with infinite compassion. I took a deep breath, my body trembling. I didn't understand, not really. And yet the spark inside me knew. "I have a very long way to go, don't I?" I asked softly.

She didn't answer.

I wiped my eyes. "May I at least keep this memory?"

Her great head dipped in consent.

"Thank you," I whispered. "I don't know where it is I'm meant to go or what it is I'm meant to do, but I'll try to make You proud."

Brightness shimmered and the expression on Her face changed. It was a look like my mother's embrace, hard and fierce. And it said without words that whatever came to pass, I was Hers, Her joy and Her pride, now and always and forever. My heart too full for words, I nodded in silent acknowledgment. It was a gift of grace I would carry with me always.

She left and did not look back.

I watched Her go, swaying on my feet. The glade was empty. I could feel Her presence moving away. When I could sense it no longer, I turned back to face the stone doorway. It showed nothing but the glade and the mountainside beyond, but I knew that somewhere beyond here lay a sea I was meant to cross.

More than one, mayhap.

I let myself glance around once more. It was beautiful and I longed to stay. Now that I had seen Her, I yearned to follow Her. I would follow Her over the mountains as my ancestors had followed Her across the ice when the world was young, marking neither day nor night in this twilight deeper than any mortal twilight. I would ask nothing more in life than to bask in Her presence.

But it was not to be. Instead, I would carry Her presence with me, never, ever forgetting that I was a child of the Maghuin Dhonn.

The bright spark of Her spirit inside me pulsed with steady life. I pressed one clenched fist to my heart and stepped through the doorway.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

On the far side of the stone door it was day.   I blinked in the sudden dazzle of sunlight, shading my eyes. The world wavered and sparkled in my vision. I didn't feel sleepy or hungry, but I was suddenly as weak as a day-old kitten. Dark figures scrambled down the mountainside to assist me.

They didn't ask if I had seen Her.

They knew.

I let them help me back to the cavern. No one spoke, for which I was grateful. I wasn't ready for words yet. When my vision cleared, my mother's face was the first I saw, tears of relief in her eyes. She held a wooden dipper of water to my lips. I drank. It was the best thing I had ever tasted. My mother refilled the dipper, then refilled it again. I drank until my stomach was nearly bursting, then sighed.

"So." Oengus broke the silence. "It seems you are one of us in truth."

I cleared my throat. "Yes and no."

My mother froze, then lowered the dipper very slowly.

"I'm sorry," I said to her, my heart aching. "I wish it were otherwise. She….. She came to me. But….." I told them what had passed. How I had reached for Her and She had turned away from me, then looked back with such sorrow and regret. About the sea in the doorway. As I spoke, my mother rose and walked away. She stood in the mouth of the cavern with her head bowed and her arms wrapped around herself. I faltered and kept going. "Mayhap I was mistaken?" I suggested hopefully when I had finished.

"No." My mother spoke without turning around. "I've always feared this day would come."

"Why?" I asked. "Is there aught more you've not told me?"

"No," she murmured. "Only that I feared losing you."

No one else spoke for a time. Mabon played softly on his pipe.

"Oh, hush that noise, lad!" Nemed said in an irritable tone. She took my hand in a strong grip and squeezed it. "So She gave you no guidance?"

I shook my head. "Do you think I was mistaken?" The spark inside me constricted and I winced.

"No," Nemed said ruefully. "I fear you have the right of it, child. Whatever destiny She intends for you, you're meant to find it on your own. And as is the way of such things, I suspect the seeking may be more important than the finding."

"How does one go in search of a destiny?" Breidh asked in bewilderment. "Where would you even begin to look?"

"Across the sea," I said. "That's all I know."

"Aye, but which sea?"

My mother gave a choked laugh. I gazed at her rigid back with sorrow. "The one from whence my father came, I imagine," I murmured. "If I am to seek out a destiny, I'd start there and ask his gods why they're meddling with a child of the Maghuin Dhonn."

Nemed sucked her teeth. "Aye, that sounds about right."

I was too tired to think anymore. "Mother?"

"Go to the City of Elua," she said in a low voice. "Ask for the temple dedicated to star-crossed lovers. He said it is small but very famous. It was built for his great-grandmother. If he lives, they will know there where to find him."

"Have you always—" I broke off the thought and shook my head. The room reeled a little and I felt myself lurch sideways.

"Stone and sea!" Camlan leapt to her feet in dismay. "You must be starved and weary to the bone."

"It was a long night," I agreed feebly.

She gave me a perplexed look and hurried over to the cook fire.

"Time moves differently beyond the stone door." Nemed stroked my hair. "You were gone three nights and half a day."

I blinked. "I was?"

"You were." She smiled. "Stubborn child."

Camlan brought me a bowl of rabbit stew with wild carrots and onions. I ate slowly, watching Oengus comfort my mother. My uncle Mabon came to sit beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. He smelled familiar, like moss and fresh-peeled birch bark. "Do not worry about your mother," he said softly. "Fainche is strong—too strong, mayhap. And you have been the whole of her life for a long time. Mayhap she will let Oengus lend her some of his strength now."

I chewed and swallowed a bite. "That would be good."

"Aye," he said simply. "It would."

Once I'd eaten, the tide of exhaustion lurking behind my eyes rose and threatened to swallow me. Mabon and Camlan led me to a nest of blankets in a dim corner of the cavern. I wanted to protest, but I hadn't the strength. The moment I lay down, the tide engulfed me.

Behind my closed lids, the memory of Her presence awaited.

"Moirin."

It was my mother's voice.

I forced my eyes open. "Aye?"

She knelt before me, not sad, not angry. Steady, hands resting on her knees. "Wherever you're bound, I'll come with you."

My heart leapt—and the spark within dwindled. My throat tightened. "I don't…. I don't think it's meant," I whispered.

Tears brightened her eyes. "No?"

"No." I closed my own eyes against the anguish in her face.

Sleep took me.

I woke in the small hours of the night. Casting my senses over the cavern, I found all sleeping but one. I rose, wrapping a blanket around me to ward off the night's chill, and joined my mother where she sat on the ledge of the cavern mouth. We sat together in silence, watching the stars move over the glade and the moon's sliver ascend into the night sky.

"I would have told you if ever you had asked about finding your father," my mother said eventually. "About the temple."

"I know," I said.

She looked at me, her dark gaze searching. "Are you sure?"

I knew what she meant. I took her hand in mine and laid it on my chest so she might feel the spark of the diadh-anam beneath it. "I am."

She sighed. "I'll miss you, Moirin mine. So very, very much."

I wanted to cry; I wanted to tell her that I would miss her, too; to tell her I was frightened, that I didn't want to venture across the sea all by myself in search of an unknown destiny. But I didn't want to make her feel worse. Instead, I curled into a ball and laid my head in her lap. "I will always be your daughter," I murmured. "Now and always and forever. But tonight, for one last night, let me be your child."