In aid of this purpose, she pulled Fingin away from the roundhouse as soon as he finished his chores. She drew him down to the river, a place where he seemed at home and comfortable. No time like now to begin the young boy’s education. She would teach him to honor the Fae, to see them in their hiding places. Maybe she might even teach him to speak with them.
He held her hand with tentative strength. He’d never be a powerful man, as his frame remained slight. She’d seen him flinching whenever Rumann yelled, and she suspected her son beat the boy. Where had he learned such violence? Certainly not from her. Had Rumann been bullied as a boy, without her to protect him? While he had the right to correct his own son, overusing such attentions could damage such a frail child. She’d try to counteract such cruelty with some kindness.
“Now, young man, what can you tell me about the creatures who live in the water?”
* * *
Clíodhna fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, far more nervous than she ought to be. She sat on a bench in the garden, waiting for Odhrán to arrive. He said he’d be there at dusk, but she wasn’t certain how he figured dusk. When the sun descended past the hills? When the sky had gone dark? Different people marked it in different ways.
She’d been back in the mortal world for almost a full turn of the seasons before she might meet with Odhrán again. The church had sent him to another church location, some island off the west coast, the day after she returned from Faerie. He’d sent her a message of apology with another monk. Despite the kind message, she felt somehow cheated of a reunion with her ex-lover.
In the meantime, her body seemed to be trying to catch up with the seasons she hadn’t lived. Her skin had grown thinner and she developed wrinkles where they hadn’t been. A streak of white formed in her black hair. Her bones complained at the chill when she rose in the pre-dawn darkness.
At one point, Rumann’s anger and violence became so strong it gave Clíodhna nightmares of Oisinne’s cruelty. Had her time in Fae made her less able to endure the hardships of the mortal world? Regardless, she had to escape for the summer.
She traveled back to the ocean, to the place she first returned after Faerie. Her crude shelter had fallen, as seaside homes didn’t last long. The storms battered them each winter until nothing but sticks remained.
However, she’d built a new structure, just for the summer. Away from all people, alone except for the beasts of the land, air, sea, she relished her own company.
Clíodhna swam in the ocean every day. The white streak grew wider as she played with the dolphins and dove into the waves, reliving her youth. It helped to rejuvenate her mind and her spirit, if not her body.
She gathered a pod of about six dolphins who became her friends, bringing her seaweed and shellfish and taking her out into the water. She almost became a dolphin herself, she spent so much time in the salt sea. Perhaps she swam with the dolphin who gave her a ride before, but she had no way to tell for certain.
Several times, she disdained their play and concentrated upon her own magic, drawing from the massive power of the ocean before her. The strength of that power had been much too high for her to control, but as Adhna had taught her to draw a bare tendril from the earth, she practiced with pulling a small rivulet from the ocean. In time, her mastery over element grew as did her confidence in wielding it.
To amuse the dolphins, she practiced by creating shapes from the water, dancing along the surface. She created fish shapes to leap along the edge of the shore as the dolphins chittered their amusement and delight.
Clíodhna returned to Rumann’s home when the days grew shorter and the nights grew longer. And when the time for Odhrán’s return came closer.
She’d been relieved at the delay. It allowed her time to get to know her family more, to settle back into her place in the village. And to determine if Abbot Pátraic still detested the sight of her.
She still considered him a vile dogmatist, but he acted as if she didn’t exist, other than a polite nod when they made eye contact on in the village. A few times, she thought she detected a glint of that fervent extremism she’d remembered, but the spark faded as she passed. He never spoke a word to her.
Content with this arrangement, she schooled her own behavior to keep out of his notice. Without a mad husband to care for, or children to raise, she found this change easier to maintain. She had a freedom she’d never experienced. No true responsibilities, no heavy goals or projects. She only had to complete Fingin’s education in honoring the Fae. She’d spoken to a few of the villagers. Most ignored her or shook their heads at her odd notions. One or two listened, and built a relationship with their own Fae. The ones who lived in their farm well, or along the edge of the woods. Most didn’t have the bravery for such disobedience of their church, though.
Fingin, however, despite being a
