Donn held out a bowl of stew. More stew stained his face and clothing, so this must be his second attempt to offer food to Oisinne. Etromma held a fussing Aileran, bouncing him on her shoulder as she tried to calm their father down.
Her daughter spun and glared at her. “We needed you an hour ago! Where have you been?”
While bowing her head, Clíodhna closed her eyes. “Battle of another sort. I’m sorry to have left you to this. Go get some rest.”
With understandable anger, Etromma stomped out, taking the baby with her. Donn remained, though, and handed her the bowl. “Maybe you’ll have more luck getting him to eat.”
Clíodhna doubted it, but took the stew anyhow. “Go get some rest yourself. I’ll take care of him.”
As tired as she felt, she decided this crisis warranted practicing with the magic Adhna had showed her. Once all her children had left, she drew upon more magic. It resisted her, unwilling to come to her call. Had she injured her ability in the night, in that dead place? Maybe the power was a living, breathing thing with memory of pain.
Instead of drawing on the earth, she instead tried to draw on the air and water around her, pulling the calmness of a still lake into her mind. She couldn’t calm her husband if she didn’t remain calm herself. At least this, she knew how to do. Adhna had taught her as much.
Instead of pulling on the tempestuous power of the ocean, she drew on the calm lake, placid in the pre-dawn world. She breathed in and out, once, twice, three times. Measure heartbeats and closed eyes helped her concentrate, despite Oisinne’s continued ramblings. Clíodhna shut out external noises and concentrated on her own body. In and out, once, twice, three times. In and out.
Serenity suffused her, a sweet, beautiful tranquility. A serene, calm pond in the dawn. The countryside when covered with fresh snow. The pure quiet of a moonless night.
When Clíodhna opened her eyes, she pushed this pacific power through her hands and into her husband’s anarchic soul. She unruffled his muddled mind, pouring honey on his angry mental wounds. His frenzied rage ebbed into a deep slumber.
Drained, Clíodhna collapsed where she sat, in a pile of exhausted bones.
Her rest didn’t come with peace.
The dead place haunted her dreams. She ran through the lifeless woods, terrified of the dead limbs reaching for her, ripping her clothing and tangling her hair. Once, she stumbled, grabbing handfuls of dirt, but nothing lived within. No bugs, no beetles, no roots. Nothing but sterile soil, unable to sustain life.
The trees loomed over her, laughing in glee at her helplessness. Clíodhna struggled to claw her way from their reach, but the dirt just slipped between her fingers. She cried out, sobbing in frustration and panic.
A pale light glowed on the horizon. The light became a man, arms outstretched in supplication. She didn’t know this man, didn’t recognize his face, but his presence exuded peace and love.
His face shone and his hair seemed white. He drew her back into her beloved ocean, to swim amongst the fish and sea creatures. The figure calmed her with her childhood memories, an innocent time before the stress and danger took over her life. He reassured her by his very existence, and she fell into a less troubled slumber.
She woke to the sound of Aileran screeching. The sound shot through her skull and she shot straight up, worried about Oisinne’s forced sleep. He lay on his side, curled up like a baby, snoring with vigor.
After letting out a breath of relief, Clíodhna gathered the real baby in her arm and bounced him, getting her breast out to feed him. Soon he should have regular food, but for now, he seemed happy enough with her milk.
She glanced out the door to judge the time of day. The sun lay low in the west, so the afternoon had almost disappeared. Twilight would come soon. She must rush if she meant to meet Adhna at the stone circle tonight. Clíodhna braided her hair and twisted it into a tight bun.
Once she fed and burped Aileran, with his swaddling changed, Clíodhna rocked him to sleep. Aileran had just begun crawling around. It had been twelve moons since she’d given birth. Etromma had already been crawling around like an awkward puppy at six moons, but Donn hadn’t expressed an interest in exploring until almost eleven moons. Aileran looked like he’d follow in his brother’s footsteps. Two moons past, Clíodhna started feeding him mashed turnips instead of her milk, but he resisted the change. She must stop breastfeeding soon, as her breasts ached. Her milk hadn’t been as full, so Aileran had better wean soon.
In search of her older children, Clíodhna walked to the stable. They’d fed the cows and pigs and cleaned their stalls, but no sign of either child remained. Had they gone to the village? Perhaps they’d needed an escape from Oisinne’s care, just as she had. She didn’t blame them.
She looked in on both husband and baby, but they slept. If neither child returned before dusk, she’d have to take Aileran with her and trust Oisinne would be safe enough. He should sleep under her spell. Despite Adhna’s warning, she didn’t seem to have suffered any ill effects from the spell, but she would withhold her judgment until he woke. Perhaps she’d done something damaging to him with her magic. Would she be able to tell? Sanity and sense had already fled her husband’s mind.
Footsteps outside turned out to be Donn carrying three hares from his traps.
“Is Etromma with you?”
“No, she went into the village. Tirechan asked her to have a meal with his family.”
Her eyes flew open with surprise. “After all that’s just happened? I would have thought they’d shun our family, especially someone
