The Children of Lir - Chapter Five
Thursday, October 12, 2006 (21:44:49)

Posted by Meg

An ancient Irish tragedy retold through the eyes of Fionnuala, the eldest of the four accursed children of Lir...

The scenery sped by at an alarming rate and the chariot bumped and rocked. We were going faster than we would have if we were to have a picnic. My brothers and I looked at each other with apprehension—even Fiachra and Conn showed no excitement towards the picnic. We couldn’t help the foreboding feeling that sat in the pit of our stomachs. Finally, after what seemed like hours of silence, I decided to speak up. “May we please go back to the fort? My brothers and I would like to include father as well,” I requested. I knew that we would be safer with father around us. Aoife turned to me and her hungry gaze sent shivers up my spine. “We are almost there,” she said, her voice too sweet. “We do not want to tire our poor horse more than is necessary, do we?”

“We do not need to go as fast as we are going,” I retorted. “The horse is already tired!”

“Why, Fionnuala,” she said, exaggerating the hurt expression upon her face. “Yelling is unbecoming of a lady.” Fiachra and Conn exchanged a doubtful look. After all, Aoife had no qualms about yelling at us for the past two years.

“Unbecoming or not,” Aodh interceded, “she does have a point. The horse was bred for dragging heavy objects, not running in a race.”

“As you wish, young master,” Aoife complied, a predatory smile dominating her face. She turned to the driver and ordered him to slow the chariot. He slowed it to a stop.

“How about we take a rest? We have been traveling very far,” Aoife suggested. “There is a lake nearby to bathe in—Loch Dairbhreach.”

“I think we can manage another few miles,” Aodh commented coldly.

“Oh, but you must remember that it has been a while since I last went anywhere and I must rest as well,” Aoife said, exiting the chariot, her tone sickeningly sweet but forceful at the same time. “Besides, you must be presentable to King Bodb Dearg.”

I turned to the driver.

“Driver, take us back to the fort,” I commanded.

“I cannot, milady,” he said apologetically. “The horse is far too tired to pull this chariot and must rest for a while.”

“I am hurt that you would try to ruin my careful plans for a picnic,” Aoife said, dramatically placing the back of her hand to her forehead. “I have made a great effort to be with you despite my sickness. The least you could do is follow my bidding.”

I narrowed my eyes. She was trying to make us feel guilty until we did exactly what she said. But we weren’t given much choice other than walking down a path where boars and other wild creatures awaited us. So I stepped out of the chariot, soon followed by Aodh, Fiachra, and Conn. We followed Aoife to the Loch Dairbhreach.

“Why are we following her, Fionnuala?” Aodh whispered.

“Because otherwise we would spend days trying to get home by foot in a forest full of savage animals that would see the four of us as an easy meal,” I reasoned.

“I would rather chance those wild beasts than that witch,” Aodh growled, nodding his head to Aoife ahead of us.

“I do not like this, Fee,” Conn whimpered.

“Not at all,” Fiachra agreed.

“If she tries something, there’s four of us and only one of her,” I retorted. “And we can wait for the horse to rest and take it home.”

“What was that, children?” Aoife asked mockingly. At that, we fell silent.

Finally, we reached the lake. It was surrounded by tall and imposing oak trees, and I couldn’t help but feel trapped.

My brothers and I began to undress, our clothes forming a heap a few paces from the lake. I walked to the lake’s edge—it seemed to mock the situation as it stayed calm, blue, and inviting. I dove in and my brothers did likewise.

The water was refreshingly cold and as my head broke the surface, I was slightly more relaxed. But the foreboding still hung in my stomach, as heavy as a rock and as cold as ice. One-by-one, my brothers’ heads appeared above the surface of the water. I could see that they enjoyed the water as well, but their eyes were still haunted as I imagine my eyes seemed at the time. We swam around in the water a little more, washing the grime and sweat from our bodies.

After a long stretch of peace, I began to wonder if we truly were being too paranoid and felt a pang of guilt pierce my stomach. The way we acted was not fair to Aoife or our father. I looked to Aodh for support and though his face was calm, his eyes betrayed a torrent of contradicting emotions. The twins, of course, were playfully swimming and splashing in the water, forgetting the dark feelings that were around and within them. I almost envied them.
Then my heart leaped in terror as the dream entered the front of my mind, as vividly as it had been when I first dreamed it. All my doubts of Aoife’s strange behavior shattered like the sword in my dream. Then I remembered that Aoife had been watching us by the lake and I did not remember her even so much as stick her feet into the water. I turned to where I last saw her. My eyes widened and my breath caught in my throat.

Her expression was a parody of a grin like a witch triumphantly inspecting her brew, her eyes glittering with eagerness. Her body was tense and in her soft hands was a long, silvery sword, glittering with sunlight.

Soon, I heard two collective gasps and water parting from a body as it moved towards me. My brothers had followed my gaze and now Aodh was grimly making his way beside me, ready to protect me though he was naked and vulnerable.

“That is right, Fee,” Aoife said mockingly. “You should have stayed with your father today.”

I did not dignify her with a response, but merely held her gaze, my surprise now pushed from me by solemnity.

“Dar!” Aodh called, referring to the chariot driver.

Aoife laughed and mimicked Aodh cruelly. “Do you think that I would not have enough forethought to get rid of that idiot? He is well on his way to the White Fort with tales of your treachery.

“But you knew it all along, did you not?” she spat. “And yet you followed me, and brought your brothers with you to share your fate.”

The words stung me, but I kept a straight face, knowing that she was trying to stall, to wait and taunt until one of us moved against her so she may concoct a lie to present to our father and Bodb Dearg, for she was no fighter. I also noticed that she did not move forward. Aodh was now by my side. I did not tear my gaze from Aoife’s hungry blue eyes, but instead swam forward towards the shore, towards she who held the sword threateningly in her hands.

“Oh?” she asked with her sickly sweet voice. “You would come towards me? What could you, not so much as clad in clothing, to do me, who holds a sword?”

Aoife began stalking straight towards me as I reached the inner edge of the shore, my footing now sure at the bottom of the edge of the lake. Aodh hesitated before following me, soon coming beside me. Fiachra and Conn hung back, unsure of what to do, more frightened than they had ever been before.

After what seemed like hours of tension and silence, I was within reach of Aoife’s sword. My gaze pierced hers, my resolve cold and strong.

“Go ahead,” I dared her, feeling Aodh pause in shock behind me.

She defiantly held my gaze and lifted her sword. But I noticed that her hands were trembling and her surety was fading. Finally, I heard the heavy thud of metal on dirt. Aoife had dropped her sword.

I was surprised at myself as I found myself almost disgusted, but mostly amused. Aoife was nothing more than a jealous woman, and her cowardice finally betrayed her.

“Come, Fiachra and Conn,” I beckoned without turning, shaking my head at the pathetic being still defiantly standing before us. I knew they obeyed as I heard the water parting again. I began walking towards the very end of the lake, the water lapping around my calves. Aodh, too, followed me, truly astonished but proud of his sister. Aoife made no move to stop us.

But, just as I was about to step out of the lake, rage and humiliation had worked its way through Aoife’s core. She pulled out a long, slender wand of yew and pointed it at me, shouting an ancient word of the Tuatha De Denaan. Invisible and powerful energy coursed through the wand and erupted from the tip, rushing and surrounding my brothers and myself.

The breath was stolen from my chest and my ears rang. White-hotness filled my vision and, try as I might, I could see nothing else. Suddenly, agony ripped through my body, my arms and legs breaking and reshaping, my skin stretching beyond its limits and tearing away. The agony seemed to last forever, to fold and unfold me seemingly endless times. Finally the pain subsided and my vision and hearing returned to me. I blinked my bleary eyes.

Aoife towered above me, triumphantly. I turned to my brother and found that I could not twist my body as I once had. Instead I twisted my neck to face Aodh and I saw a horrifying sight.

Where Aodh had once been was now a large, beautiful and pristine swan. It opened its beak and asked with Aodh’s voice, “Fionnuala?”

I dared not answer. Instead, I turned to Fiachra and Conn. There were smaller swans in their place. “Fiachra?” I called to them. “Conn?”

“Fee?” they responded in unison, both swans opening their beaks.

Then I turned to the water before me, and there, staring back at me, was the reflection of a swan. I, horrified, looked up at Aoife.
She cackled, deep and low at first, but quickly ascending into hysterical, high-pitched laughter.

We were doomed.