Mysterious Lights

[Rhiannon Brock]

((Cross posted in Mysterious Lights - Riverside Inn))

Rhiannon had grown used to the winter’s chill, but she’d been born a summer child. The warm rays of an August sunrise welcomed her into life. If she had a personal motto, adapt and overcome would have suited her well.

Over time, she’d learned to shield herself from the spirits that often played hide and seek with her. Her elder counterpart never seemed troubled by them. Her niece, Maggie, however, had embraced and welcomed the spirits of children that came to her. She often wondered what gifts would manifest in the children she and Eregor shared. Would one of them see those beings or had that been reserved for those that had housed an ancient spirit? Even more, she wondered about gifts they would choose on their thirteenth birthdays.

Snow crunched under her boots as she walked. A whispered voice caught her attention, Applesauce is always in fashion, little one. Rhiannon’s head whipped around. She found herself staring at a building she’d passed many times on her travels. It looked new instead of a rundown mess. The voice spoke again; a ghostly memory from her toddler years, but she knew it well and followed it inside the building.

She ordered a heated cider and found a quiet place to sit. Was there such a thing as quiet in any inn or tavern? “I know you’re here, Da. Might as well make yourself known.”

“You’ve grown,” the tall dark haired man said as he looked her over.

“Been over twenty years. Did you think I would remain a child forever?”

Two pairs of sapphire blue eyes met as Rhi sipped her drink.

“How is your mother?”

“If you really wanted that answer, you would have gone to her. Plenty of brothers, sisters, and other relatives to help arrange a meeting.” Rhi’s tone held bitterness.

“Of which you are one, our youngest child.” Damon’s voice remained calm. All too calm, it was much like her mother’s voice in the moment before she reached for a weapon.

“You tried to use me, Da. My counterpart stepped in. That selfless act, it changed things.” She looked over the man that shared blood with her but little else. He’d left when she was two. “Spare me the duty lecture. It was Mom that stayed the course. It was her that raised us after you left.”

“Rhiannon, it’s not that simple. The gods had ordained my path.” His eyes narrowed.

“About that, we dug up some old books. It answered a few questions. I don’t know if you were guilty or not. Knowing that fact might soften things, but it won’t change them. I can’t go back to being the baby in the high chair splattering you with applesauce. I’m grown. I made my own way. It includes a few of your former duties.”

A wry smile lifted the corners of his lips. “Which means, I succeeded.”

“On the contrary.” Rhi’s smile, a rarely seen one, was as cold as an arctic wind. “You lost everything. You have grandchildren you will never meet.” She held up a hand as he tried to interrupt. “Oh, yes, I know, the gods allow you to watch from afar, but that’s not the same as being there to give the affection, tell the stories, and so many other things that you put beneath your duty.”

“You hate me that much to keep them away?”

Rhi knew he was trying to play the sympathy card. “I don’t hate you. I’m apathetic. If my children want to meet you, they will, but I won’t force them into it.”

“I have …”

“No, you don’t, I’m not letting you go there. When I was little, very little, it should have been you holding my hand when I struggled to get back up.That was Mom. Should have been you helping me train and balance what I’d inherited from you and Mom. No, that was Mom and Braven Goldflame.”

“Rhi… I know everything she did. I’ve been watching.”

“Watching was all you ever did, Da.” Her temper rose. “There were several men in Mom’s path after you left, but the one that deserves to be called Dad or Papa … that’s Tass. He was there for everything from the scraped knees through walking me down the aisle to meet my husband and he greeted our children when they were born. My counterpart, she also has three children.”

“Yes, I know, they’re half human.” He scowled.

“Oh, Da,” her tone was scornful, “you have no idea how special those kids are. Terpsichore blessed the middle child; dancing is her art and gift. The youngest, the boy, he’s a wiz at anything math related.”

“The third?” His voice had gone flat, it was clear he’d lost interest.

“The third one built bridges that you apparently destroyed when you were married to a daughter of Poseidon.”

“You know about that?” His dark brows furrowed.

We do. We know. We saw. You failed all of us. Three voices spoke at once from corners of time and space. Their tone was clearly accusing.

“Those old books. They told us much.” Rhiannon quietly walked away. Damon Brock’s spirit had admitted to something he might not have in life. She was finally able to make peace with it.

[Mairead Harker]

Just after 2.a.m., 30 Jan 2021

Fresh snow was swirling in the air as Maggie took her nightly ride. She wore her dark blue parka with its hood drawn up. Mittened hands curled around the black leather reins as the teenager surveyed Dragon’s Gate from the air. There were lights in a few older buildings that were dark and cold only weeks before. She was reminded of the lamp her grandmother left in the front window of her home; a symbol of warmth and welcome. The sound of a clicking tongue caused the black Pegasus mare to dip downward near the boundary wall between Old Market and Dragon’s Gate. Four hooves touched down on a high pile of snow that had built up against the wall with the remains of walkways that were recently shoveled. The top of the knoll was a good six feet above the street.

Maggie chuckled as she stared down at the frozen pile beneath her then at the street. “Really, Windy? My legs aren’t that long!” The winged beast tossed her head and mane with an indignant snort. “Don’t look at me, I asked you to land, you picked the where!” More snorting followed as the mare gingerly stretched out her front legs and started sliding down the narrow slope. “Skiing it is!” Maggie leaned forward to pat Gaoth Dubh’s neck as they moved down to the street.

Hearing a familiar chirping sound, Maggie looked up to see Sparks perched on a darkened lamppost. The little dragon tucked his head under his wing. “I can still see you, you know,” she chided playfully. He chirped at her again and puffed air into the glass housing. A blue glow lit that part of the street as Maggie’s eyes swept over worn wooden signs. A child’s laughter caught her attention. Maggie murmured, “I hope this really is a happy sound.” A frown touched her lips as she remembered her last encounter with a tormented young spirit.

Maggie’s boot prints were covered by falling snow as quickly as she made them. A drunken man in the street cried out in fear and fled as she neared. It wasn’t until she was startled by her own reflection in a window that she understood. Gaoth Dubh’s wings were spread as she flitted along behind her rider. What had the man seen? Angel? Demon? A dragon in the midst of changing to a more humanoid form? Seconds passed, but it seemed like hours as Maggie studied her visage in the glass. Her expression ran the gamut from horror to fascination as pieces began to fall into place. “I am not one of the Kindly Ones. Not even one in waiting,” Maggie said aloud.

“You’ve done their work,” a male voice spoke from the doorway of the Riverside Inn.

“Once,” Maggie answered.

“More than once,” the man spoke again. “Come in and join us.”

“I don’t think so.” The teenager shook her head. The place oozed of ethereal essences like a well established bee colony did of honey. “Join you? No.” Maggie’s dark brows raised. “Speaking with you, however, is another matter.”

Her response caused a wry smile to appear on a nearby blonde woman’s face. “I told you that she would not fall prey to your trickery, Badger.”

“Badger?” Maggie stiffened visibly at the sobriquet. “Agreeing to join spirits without specifying how long is as unwise as eating pomegranate seeds in the Underworld.”

Rumbling laughter escaped the man at her answer. “You know your history!”

“History, yes. Languages, yes. Math is another story.” The teen made a soso gesture with her hand. “Unless money is involved, then, I’m good with numbers.”

[Mairead Harker]

“Your grandmother still bet on the horses?” The woman asked as drinks were served.

“Of course!” was Maggie’s jaunty reply. “Helps when you can talk to them!”

“I am …”

Maggie interrupted the woman. “I know who you are. You’re Cerridwyn of the Iceni. Leader of a squadron of Boudicca’s troops. I know when you died first and I know when you died last.” She was quiet for a moment. “And I know where your blade is kept.

“Do you know where I rest?”

“I do, but I won’t speak of it here.”

“I’ve been watching you for some time, Mairead.”

Maggie blew steam off the mug before her. “Wish I could say the same,” she said in earnest. “So, why are you here?”

“To the point, I see.” The ancient chuckled. “Good.”

Maggie took another sip of her drink. “Instinct tells me that you’re here because you have unfinished business or for some reason, you were awakened.” She glanced at the man at the table. “She’s here because of you. She doesn’t know the rest of the story and I doubt you do either.”

The sapphire eyed man studied the teenager. “Who am I then?”

Before answering, Maggie glanced around the place. She saw a spinning wheel decorating one corner of the inn. She lifted a single finger from her mug and gestured toward it. “Their brother, nephew, cousin.”

Understanding dawned in the man’s eyes. “Father to your mother and grandfather to you.”

“And, yet, I do not know you.”

“It’s time you did, child.” His tone was quite condescending.

An aura of ocean blue glimmered around her then faded as Maggie murmured, “I’ve got this.”

The blonde woman smiled, she’d seen that air of confidence in her own young charge many years ago.

“Pardon?” Damon Brock asked.

“No.” Maggie shook her head. “I won’t ... no, I can’t pardon you. I’m not the one that decided your punishment.” She had, perhaps, interpreted his word more literally than she should have.

“Punishment,” he muttered, “I did nothing to deserve punishment. She…” He froze.

Behind Maggie, a creature of ethereal beauty appeared. She was fair skinned, sapphire-eyed, and rich waves of ebony hair tinged with auburn tumbled over her shoulders. “Do go on, Father. If you did nothing to deserve punishment then it may have been your inaction that weighed against you. You speak of how she,” long fingers brush over Maggie’s shoulders, “has done the work of the Erinyes, but you fail to understand the reason. She seeks justice in the names of dead children, who cry out for something as simple as their names. And for the families that don’t know what happened to their lost children. Through the knowledge in the Elemental Towers of Twilight Isle, she is able to find more of them and guide their souls to rest.”

Cerridwyn curled her fingers around Maggie’s and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “You didn’t need me after all.”

“No, but I am glad you came.” Maggie smiled gratefully. “I can remember you now instead of just reading about you.”

A kiss was pressed to Maggie’s temple much as a doting aunt would have done. “Be at peace with yourself, Maggie. Always remember, choose your ground, choose your weapon, and face what is to come.”

“Rebecca,” Maggie spoke the name with reverence. Copies of The Chronicles of the Watchers had been on her reading list for some time. “Rest well.” She embraced the ancient before the woman faded.

The sight of the daughter that had never drawn breath had stunned the man into cold silence.

[Mairead Harker]

She was not so much a ghost as a presence. Her eyes seemed to be searching for whatever remained of the soul of Damon Brock.

“Don’t stare, child, it’s rude,” he complained.

“Staring is rude.” Zapphira muttered. “If that is rude then what is destroying or abandoning your family?”

Maggie shook her head at Zapphira. “I wish I could say he’d been punished enough, but many have been collateral damage because of his actions or perceived actions.”

“Just what is it you believe I did?” Damon’s eyes narrowed as he studied the pair that was now sharing a table with him.

“Killed your wife and... “ Maggie broke off the words as she gestured to the woman at the table.

“That’s what you believe?” he asked incredulously.

“You left us for dead, Father.” If looks could kill, the one Zapphira gave him would have resurrected him and sent him back to the Underworld. “Because of your actions or lack thereof, I have been left to wander without form. I’ve bided my time guiding the first singly born female child and hers. They needed to find the key to unlock the prison you created for all of us.”

“All of you?” Damon shook his head. “Rhiannon wasn’t the first singly born child.”

As the pair’s conversation escalated toward an emotional explosion, Maggie tapped the nail of her index finger on the wooden table. Tick. Tick. Tick. The sound was something between an annoyingly dripping faucet and a metronome. When she finally spoke, her own temper was in check. “I know. However, the gods made allowances for the death of a five year old. Her death was caused by someone else’s hand, too.” Maggie’s golden eyes swept over Damon as she briefly assessed him.

Damon met that gaze and looked away. “You think I killed her.” The sound of someone using the spinning wheel in the corner had captured his attention. Clotho, always watching but not always seen, did her work by feel.

“What I think, Grandfather, is that you don’t follow the lessons of your sister.”

Damon’s blustering laughter died quickly under their withering gazes. “You were serious.”

Long legs pushed the chair back from the table. “I never joke about death, Grandfather.” Her golden gaze didn’t waver from his sapphire one. “When I was six, I started being visited by the spirits of children. For a while, I thought they were sent to me because you foisted your responsibilities and charges onto someone else.” Maggie shifted to straighten up in her seat. “Maybe it began that way, but that’s not what it is, now.” Her gaze shifted toward the spinning wheel, maybe they were the only patrons that could see Clotho at her work.

“What is it now, Margaríta?”

“Mairéad,” she corrected him. “My name is Mairéad. If you insist on using Greek, call me Margarítis or Trifýlli.”

“Why trifýlli? It’s a plant.”

Maggie laughed. “Yes, a clover plant. I’ve been called Clover all of my life. It’s a nod to my birthday.” She sobered as she finished the drink in her mug. “What it’s become, is preparing for something on horizon. What it’s become, is helping as many kids as possible before they get to the other side, maybe give them more time on this one.” She finally got to her feet. “It’s about creating my own path, taking my own journey, and not being anyone else but me.” Zapphira had already faded. “You should go back, Grandfather. Don’t wait any longer, Gran won’t be coming here to see you.”

She went out into the snow again, the door shutting behind her. After rounding up Sparks and Windy, Maggie made her way home.