Day 9 of Midwinter, Nightfall

Slí Draíochta, Emain Ablach

Annwn

I had heard about athames before I first saw Nemain’s or Macha’s. They were double-sided daggers, generally with no bolster or guard. Back on Earth, Wiccans used them for rituals and sacrifices. Macha appeared to use hers for something else entirely.

Nemain and Badb followed Macha’s lead and moved to their knees. The sisters drew their own athames and made a cut in their palms. They looked at me expectantly. Badb passed over her dagger and without thinking, I, too, sliced the sharp blade down my hand.

As far as discomfort goes, willingly cutting myself tops the list. When you get punched in the face or accidentally crush your shoulder on a Fomorian (not that I’ve ever done something so reckless), you don’t expect the pain. This situation, around the fire, was the first time that I had ever intentionally harmed myself. It sucked. I found myself wondering why people do this. At a minimum, movies needed to stop showing scenes about blood pacts.

The blood came quickly. It ran from my hand to the ground and began to pool, as did the blood of The Morrigan around the circle. When the silence and stillness finally became awkwardly long, Macha at last began to speak.

“Lo, though we go into the house of the dark one and lo will the pool of the mother goddess save us. Let this blood spilled together be our géis, our pact sealed with our very lives.”

“I see thee,” Badb said and looked to each of us in turn.

“I honor thee,” Macha echoed.

Nemain appeared to be looking at me as she thought hard about her part in this ritual. The others were clearly waiting for her to finish, but she simply waited, staring at me. Finally, nodding, she resolutely stated, “I will die for thee.”

When she said those words, each of the puddles of blood began to glow with an amber light. I could see bluish-green runic symbols illuminated in the dark red liquid. The runes began to vibrate and move. They began to swirl around us, and while trapped inside I could see into the hearts of my fellow géis members… géis-ers… géis-shas… no, that’s definitely not right.

Whatever it was called, I could feel their resolve to each part of the pact. And just like that, Macha seemed to have mended the rift between Nemain and me. Whether or not Nemain liked me, by going into war with her, she would be willing to trade her life for mine. I was expected to do the same, and without knowing exactly why, I knew that I would.

I looked to the wound where the athame had cut into my hand and the blood passing from the hand back to my heart appeared blackened. It was a creepy sight to behold in the darkness of the night, to see my veins turning black. My eyes flicked to Nemain in silent panic and she gave me a calming look.

When the light of the runes stopped their movement around us, I could see the normal color of my blood chasing the black blood up my arm. It was as if there was a part of my blood that behaved like disappearing ink.

Nemain and Macha stood and began unpacking their bedrolls. Badb came before me and helped me to my feet. She ran her fingers over where the black streaks had been moments before. “When a Mark of the Géis is active, the blades of our athame are caustic to the flesh of those not under the bond.”

I held out her blade, but she pushed it back to me. “I will recover the blade after the fall.” Nemain glanced over at us for just a second but continued getting ready for a few brief hours of sleep. I nodded at Badb and shambled over to my own bedroll. It was tucked away from The Morrigan, to give them some privacy, but not far enough away that I couldn’t see the light of their fire. My pack and all of my otherworldly belongings were stashed between two boulders. That is where I collapsed.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

I was exhausted. Switching between realms and time zones had done a number on me. I don’t even remember laying down. I think the moment my head hit the ground, I dropped into a deep, deep sleep.

And that is when the whispering came back to me. I didn’t hear it, not really. You don’t really hear things in your dreams, after all. You perceive sounds alongside the images, and they become a tapestry of scenes, some good and some bad. Sometimes, when you dream, you even know you are dreaming. It is as if those scenes are too painful or too foreign to trick even your unconscious mind into believing they are real.

When the whispers started, they blended into the dreamscape I was experiencing. I saw people… ordinary people. They were standing in different places. The scenery around them was as varied as the people themselves. But they had stopped what they were doing and they turned toward my general vantage point. Voices came from each of them, and though they were looking at me, I could tell that the hum of the whispers was directed at each other.

The volume was increasing. A few of the people began to move. They were getting larger, and I was starting to be able to see them more clearly. There were five in all that differed from the collective—two women and three men. They began to wrinkle as if with age. Beards begin to grow, even on the women. Their eyes shrank in their heads and their teeth grew larger. Their youthful hair appeared to lengthen and grow stringy.

My slumbering mind initially perceived this as another strange dream. “Running through marshmallow in flip flops,” as Daniel Tosh once referred to it. But the figures’ hands alerted me to danger. I will never forget those hands. These were five of the Bodach. I instantly knew what was about to happen.

I had the Mark of the Bodach, and the Bodach had a hive mind. These were five of the beasts, and they would come for me. Still, I couldn’t stir. I could not force myself to wake up. In my dream, I tried to slap myself, but nothing happened. The figures continued to come closer.

They loomed over me now, and I could feel their breath on my face. Was that happening in real life? I tried to scream, to alert the people around me. Could The Morrigan come to my aid?

I bit down on my tongue. I felt blood drip down my throat and down my face, but I still couldn’t wake up. The whispering was incredibly loud. And the five that stood over me sniffed the air but were careful not to touch me.

There was a cadence to their voices, an imperfect harmony that I felt I was starting to understand. I didn’t know what they were saying, even though I knew the words and the rhythm. I wanted to say the words, yet something was holding me back. I knew that if I uttered a single syllable, I would join my consciousness to the hive mind.

I heard a scream ring out from somewhere behind the voices. I heard slamming and the sounds of blades striking flesh. Something fell on top of me, and my eyes shot open. Fíadan! Fí was here and she was sliding through the group of Bodach with Swish, trying to reach me. One of the creatures was already dead on top of me with Stick embedded in its skull.

I stood, knocking the disgusting old man's corpse off of me, but not before grabbing the handle of Stick. I plunged the Silverwhite blade into the nearest Bodach’s spine and the thing began to spasm.

There were two of them left, but just as I noticed this, I saw a chain wrap around one and literally tear the creature in two. Nemain came out from behind one of the boulders and we surrounded the last Bodach. I was wielding Stick, Fíadan twirled Swish in her hands, and Nemain began to swirl the chain in a spiral that looked like a coiled snake.

The Bodach began to laugh, and in my mind, I heard the echoes of the multitude of Bodach across both realms. The creature pointed at me. “You will never be safe. Soon you will join me…”

His words were cut short when the Ellyllon sliced her blade through the skull of the creature. It fell dead in the center of us. Fíadan was breathing heavily but was more vibrant than I had ever seen her. Her eyes scanned the campsite and her muscles tensed as if preparing for another attack.

I went forward and wrapped her in an embrace. I couldn’t help it. It took her a second to relax, but she eventually returned the hug.

“Is this the sort of trouble you get yourself into when I’m not around?” she asked, giving me a knowing smile.

“You have to stop leaving without saying goodbye,” I told her.

“And you need to stop fooling with the weave when we are moving between realms. At least last time we ended up in the Pool together. The boss thinks it's you that’s doing it.”

Fí’s “boss” walked quietly around the rocks. The Dagda was here with my dear friend Fíadan! Things were looking up.

Nemain came forward and clasped the forearm of the Ellyllon. I was surprised to see that she did not even acknowledge The Dagda. While I was pondering what that could mean, she turned to me. “Nine will make ten,” she said, repeating Badb’s (hopefully) prophetic words. “At least now we know who our other two party members will be.”