Undone Deeds

Epilogue

The wind blew bitter cold off the ocean as Briallen verch Gwyll ab Gwyll followed the porters. She cinched the rope on her black alb and gathered her cloak around her. The porters walked the dirt path, worn hard with age and use, as it sloped downward to the beach. Briallen studied the ground in front of her, the wooden bier in the upper edge of her sight. She thought of nothing in particular—the sound of the wind through the grass, the cry of the seabirds. She had walked the path before.

The porters reached the beach, and their gait slowed against the heavy sand. They took care to keep the bier level and not jostle the body. Briallen did look up then, staring into the distance ahead. The sky was flat white around her as it always was on the beach.

They walked beneath a sunless sky down the endless beach. There was no telling how far to walk. It was different every time. The strand of the shore wound off into the haze. It might never end, she thought. Places like the beach were like that.

A dark spot appeared on the sand ahead, beside the path the porters took. That was different. Briallen had never seen it before and was more surprised as they drew closer. The spot resolved into a figure bundled in black, sitting on the sand. The porters did not pause as they passed. They knew their place and kept walking.

Briallen paused. The huddled shape lifted its head and threw back a hood. Meryl Dian stared after the bier. Tears streamed down her face as the porters meandered above the foam of the tide.

“I loved him,” she said. “I didn’t mean to, but I loved him this time.”

Briallen held her hand out, and Meryl took it. Like a mother, she gathered the smaller woman into her arms and held her to her breast. “Do not lament love. It has a power beyond even the Wheel of the World.”

They stood together as the porters walked on. There was world enough and time on the beach. Meryl’s tears subsided, and Briallen released her. They followed after the bier, first Briallen, then Meryl. Though they made no effort, they reached the porters without speed.

Ahead three figures appeared, three woman in black albs. They stood in a row along the beach, barring the way. The porters did not vary their pace, did not quicken with the end of their journey in sight, but walked until they reached a barge in the surf. With care, they lowered the bier and stepped away. Meryl hung back as the three women joined Briallen on the barge, two to each side of the body.

Briallen looked up as a bird cried in the wind, a crow, lost in the flat white of the sky. She looked at the woman across from her and nodded. The woman lifted her hood and settled it back on her shoulders, her expression blank. Briallen exhaled, a coil of essence rolling from her lips, settling over the woman’s face.

Keeva macNeve lifted her head, startled. She stared at Briallen, then down at the body. She pressed her lips together in regret and resignation. “I gave him Challenge,” she said. “I gave him cause to thrive and rise above his ability. I gave him trial and tribulation. I failed him.”

Briallen looked at the woman beside her and nodded. She pushed back her hood. Briallen exhaled, and awareness came into Maeve’s gaze. Expressionless, she stared at the body, showing no emotion. “I gave him Ambition,” she said. “I gave him cause to challenge himself and rise above the world. I gave him reason for being. I failed him.”

Briallen looked at the third woman and hesitated, then nodded. She exhaled as the woman released her hood. Ceridwen gasped as she stared at the body. “I gave him….” Uncertain, she looked up at Briallen. Briallen arched her eyebrow and nodded again. Ceridwen released a shuddering breath, collecting her thoughts, then smiled with sadness. “I gave him Love…. Love Unrequited. I gave him cause to…. to find his heart’s desire. I gave him strength to hold on to something more precious than I had to offer. I failed him.”

Briallen exhaled slowly. “I gave him Wisdom,” she said. “I gave him knowledge and hope. I gave him curiosity to seek what he needed to find. I failed him.”

Silence fell over them, broken by the shush of the sea and sigh of the wind. The porters approached the barge, leaving Meryl alone on the sand. Briallen held out a hand to her. “You’ve earned a place here,” she said.

Meryl swallowed hard as she walked down the beach. A porter helped her onto the barge. Ceridwen slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close.

Meryl stared at the body, clenching her fists, fighting back tears. “I gave him Love. I gave him desire and dreams and…. I gave him my heart and my soul.” She lifted a defiant chin, staring Briallen in the eye. “I did not fail him. He did not fail me.”

Briallen’s lips parted in surprise, but she did not speak. The world had changed. The Wheel of the World had turned. Change was not to be denied. She looked into the distance, to the horizon lost in the mist. “We go now to Avalon, the Isle of Apples, the Isle of Healing. Pray rest, good man, and, perhaps, heal.”

The porters pushed the barge into the surf. It drifted along the beach until a current caught it, and it pulled away from shore. The beach receded. A spot of pink essence flashed in the air above the barge, circled once, and vanished.

The barge faded into the mist of the sea.

Leonard Murdock knelt at the communion rail of St. Brigid’s Church. He found what solace he could in the silent room. The resident priest had already heard his confession. He had made his penance. The empty pews behind him gave mute witness to his prayers. He paused with his eyes closed, listening for something that would give meaning to his faith. Sometimes he thought he heard something. Sometimes he thought he only wished it. Either way, he believed it made no difference.

He crossed himself, a faint light lingering on his hands, and exited the church. Janey smiled as he got in the car.

“Let’s go get some sushi,” he said.

“Sushi? You? What brought that on?” she asked.

He smiled and started the car. “I was thinking change would do me good.”

Robin crept along the verge of the forest, arrow notched as he peered from the underbrush. The great trees loomed over him, casting shadows of green gloom. Ahead, the plain of flowered meadow spread, rolling miles of green toward a distant wood. Nothing moved, the Dead quiet or off in some other pocket of TirNaNog.

He relaxed his bow and strolled into the meadow. The flowers let out a sweet perfume as he passed, rising up from the crush of his foot. He hiked to the top of a low rise and took in the view.

Near the horizon, something dark moved in the grass. Robin chewed on his lip, debating whether to retreat to the forest or continue on. He didn’t feel like fighting today or getting killed again. The dark spot drew closer, running low to the ground. It became an animal shape, not a person, but no less worrisome. Robin was about to retreat when he recognized the animal.

The black dog bounded and leaped in the grass, making straight for him. Robin had nothing to fear from it—he was already dead—but the Cu Sith still liked to kill for sport in the Land of the Dead. Robin notched his arrow, more to threaten than anything else. Sometimes the Cu Sith didn’t want to die that day either and moved on.

The black dog reached the rise. Robin sighted down the length of his arrow, then relaxed. Not all Cu Sith were the same, and this one had taken a liking to him. “Hey, Uno,” he called.

The black dog trotted up the hill and stopped. Robin tilted his head, curious as the dog hunched its back, then flowed up on its hind legs. As if a great wind blew over it, its fur drifted away like smoke.

“Hey, stranger,” Shay said.

Tears shocked from Robin’s eyes. He ran down the hill into Shay’s arms.

The woman awoke to the sounds of chickens. She eased into a sitting position, wincing. She was naked and filthy, covered in dirt and shit. Her back screamed with pain as she stood. She twisted her arm, feeling along the skin, touching scabs. Her hand came away speckled with dried blood.

The chickens became agitated, gathering along the fence. She heard the sound of footfalls and huddled against a wall daubed with mud. A large woman appeared, her face beaten red with sun and wind. She wore homespun, poorly done, and was barefoot. She threw some feed over the fence, turned away, then paused. Placing her hands on the rough fence, she leaned over the rail, her suspicious face becoming angry. “You there! What’re you doin’?”

The woman cowered on the ground, struggling to find her voice. “N-n-noth….”

The larger woman stared, taking in the bare flesh and the dirt, and her face softened somewhat. “What’re you called?”

The woman searched the ground as if to find the answer there. Her mind was a jumble. She didn’t remember how she had arrived in such a place, didn’t understand what had happened to her. A name floated up in her mind, a sound teasing at her memory.

“Mae….” She paused. A sound like that. She thought there might be more, but the idea faded away.

The large woman laughed. “May, is it? Now there’s a bit of luck. Whether for me or thee remains to be seen. Come along then. I could use a girl. I’ll show you were the water ditch is.”

Awkwardly, the woman climbed the low fence.

May, she thought. It felt right, but…. off somehow. She hobbled behind the woman. It was a name as good as any for a girl found in a midden.

Meryl opened her eyes and stared at a night sky. The stars glimmered overhead, placid in their place. She got to her feet, brushing grass off her knees. She twisted a leg, noticing one of her boot buckles had bent. She leaned down and fixed it, stomping her foot to reposition the leather.

When she straightened, the full moon revealed a long field of new grass. Miles in the distance, an electric light glowed on the horizon. She frowned, trying to place a city surrounded by grass but came up empty. She sighed and adjusted her boots again. They weren’t for hiking, but she didn’t have much choice.

The moon flashed off something in the corner of her eye, and she turned. Puzzled, her eyebrows drew down as she stared at her MINI Cooper sitting on the grass. Then she shrugged and got in.

The radio came on in a roar of static when she started the engine. She played with the tuner, but couldn’t find a station. Opening the console, she popped in a CD and turned it up full blast. As she wheeled the car around, something dangled from the rearview mirror. She stopped and hit the dome light. A silver acorn hung on a chain. She grinned and pulled it on over her head.

Hitting the gas again, she bumped over the grass, driving into the night.

I hear voices, soft voices, whispering words in sorrow. I hear the lapping of waves, the soft caress of the deep. I feel the kiss of sea on my skin, the rock of a barge beneath me.

I am who I always am. I am myself. I am here, again, here on my journey. It begins and ends this way. Someday it will not begin again. Someday it will not end again. Not today.

I reflect on my life as I must, sorting through things done well and things not, and things not at all. Deeds of valor and of fear, of strength and weakness, love and hatred. All the deeds of my life parade before me. Undone deeds mock me. Deeds undone mock me more.

The Wheel of the World turns. It widens as It turns, gathering up speed and urgency, filling with life and love, death and sorrow. It fills until It fails, and collapses again, falling into Itself like a gyre. It turns, the Wheel of the World, and we turn with It. Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity….

Apple blossoms. I smell apples blossoms.