Annaldra

Ann clearly heard the voice in her head. She had no sooner got into bed and shut her eyes when it happened, so she knew she was not dreaming. ‘It is time, Annaldra. Come to Clementina Hill. Come now,’ the man’s voice had spoken with crystal clarity from somewhere deep within her skull. Although its source was internal and detected not by her ears but by her mind, she was not responsible for it. That she was certain. Someone else, or something else had said it. She could not ignore it. It was as real as her own voice. She had to go.

Strangely, she was not surprised. Not that she had been expecting it, but so much of her life made little sense and was not normal, and after what Donald told her earlier, anything now seemed possible. Norlu had often commented that it was not natural the way she remembered everything, and her mum at times had almost appeared afraid of her as though she were something unholy. She constantly battled against Tunkeeta’s ways and her teachings, saying they were evil, but being an overly devout Catholic had given her mum a somewhat blinkered viewpoint. She believed everything her Church taught, and happily went along with their new viewpoints whenever they changed, something Ann found hypocritical. Opinions that contradicted the Vatican’s had to be the devil’s. By the time Ann was twelve years old, her mum had given up trying to make her Catholic. Even though Ann had no objections to most of Christianity’s teachings, she never understood why it solely focused on the human race. It paid no heed to other life forms, which was in complete contrast to Tunkeeta’s teachings. It was also too male dominated for some illogical reason. She had pitied her mum, having such a closed mind. It was these differences, she believed, stopped them being close. Her dad, on the other hand, had encouraged her friendship with Norlu and Tunkeeta, but his paternal grandparents had been Inuit themselves, so he understood more. Though he had not been a believer, he had not been a nonbeliever either.

Clementina Hill, the place the voice had summoned her to, was a place Ann was aware of. It was the faerie mound Donald had told her about earlier. It was where her mother claimed she had lived with her father before she came to Maidenboat, but was also, where her mother had died. It would be easy to find being less than a quarter of a mile from Donald’s caravan. She had seen the signpost in the village square pointing the way. On top of the hill stood an ancient stone circle, the Clementina Stones. It was the only tourist attraction in the area according to Donald. Occasionally, candle stubs and offerings were found beside the stones: glass beads, polished pebbles, flowers, pinecones and the likes. Donald had said it was a sign that some people still clung to their Pagan past, but no one knew if locals had left them or passing tourists.

It was after midnight when Ann departed. Leaving the sleeping village, the only sound was the wave-less tide as it retreated over the pebbles that backed the beach, each time dragging a million pebbles over a million more. Silence followed by gentle rumbling, silence followed by gentle rumbling. The calming rhythm along with the moonlight and lack of wind made the night magical. The stars had now fully woken, twinkling in the night’s sky assisting the moon in illuminating the unlit road with an eerie blue light that absorbed colour. Still, it remained bright enough to see clearly. A strange sense of wonder and hope filled Ann, reigniting the excitement that had drawn her back to Maidenboat. Could this be what it was? She shook herself all over, no, stop this, she would not allow her imagination to run riot. She tried to concentrate on her surroundings, in case she had imagined the voice. Time was a fertile field for growing doubt.

Beyond Donald’s caravan was another signpost, this time pointing inland along a dirt track through woodland. The trees had only begun shedding their leaves, but enough had fallen to let through rays of dappled moonlight. It was not long before the trees thinned and she could see Clementina Hill in front of her. The silhouettes of the stones on top of the mound stood like giants guarding the hill. Walking towards it a strong sensation of déjà vu came over her. It was so familiar. I’ve been here before. I know I have. Then it hit her. This was her recurring dream, the one she told Donald earlier. The dream of Heaven she had been having all her life and the standing stones somehow marked the gateway to the otherworldly kingdom.

As she approached, Ann saw an opening on the side of the mound as though the hill had split, parting like a curtain. Then from within, she heard a faint, tuneful humming that calmed her nerves like a mother’s lullaby soothing a baby. She was not afraid when she stepped inside, even when the light from the moon disappeared. Running her hand along the wall of earth to guide her, the wet mud below, soft and sluggish. With each step, the humming grew louder drawing her in deeper. Then, up ahead she saw a dull light. Rounding the next bend, white brightness dazzled her. Instinctively she raised her wrist to her eyes for protection.

Luckily, it did not take long for her eyes to become accustomed to the light, and when they did, what she saw was beyond her imagination. Ahead stood a great, stone castle, standing tall and proud on top of a steep stone stack, about two hundred metres from the ground. It was a pale silvery grey colour with many turrets of varying heights. Stepping from the tunnel, she found herself standing on a wide white bridge made of marble that led out to the castle. Above there was sky, beautiful cloudless blue sky filled with unusual colourful birds and enormous butterflies, with wings of lace. Turning around, she saw the tunnel she had exited was halfway up a vertical cliff face. All around were mountains moulded in a crescent moon formation; the tallest and largest behind her gradually decreasing in size at either side until they reached a turquoise-green ocean lying far beyond the castle. The mountains, thick with vegetation, had high waterfalls cascading from them onto the plateau below. She could see lakes and rivers, gardens and forests. Other stacks grew from the ground, but none as tall as the castle’s stack. Some of them had buildings or towers built on them, and one looked as though it had a garden on top. However, no stack was an island as rope bridges joined them, the kind you might see linking tree top dwellings, but like threads on a spider’s web. It was the most amazing sight Ann had ever seen. It was paradise. This was her father’s realm; the Otherworld, the land of the Sidhe, but it was not underground, as she had imagined. It was open and had sky. She knew now, this was where her mother had lived; this was where she had been conceived. It was all real.

Looking down at her feet, she noticed she had no shadow, even though it was bright enough for one. However, she could see no source for the light. Walking across the bridge, she took her time taking in everything. Every ten yards or so marble statues stood on the wall of the bridge, each over ten feet tall, and each wielding a weapon, like great heroes guarding the castle.

As she approached the castle, the two large wooden doors parted causing a fluttering in her stomach. It was verging on uncomfortable as though an eiderdown pillow had exploded in her belly, its feathers floating haphazardly around inside her. The tickly nerves reminded her of the time her dad took her to the travelling fairground in Nuuk. She was nine years old, and she had never been anywhere like it. The wonder of it had made her eyes widen like saucers, and the thrill she experienced on the rides was so intense as she got jolted or whizzed, spun or flung, she thought she might burst. She had wished Norlu had come with them to share the experience. Her dad had offered, but Tunkeeta forbade it. She wished Norlu were with her now as cautiously she entered the castle.

Once inside, she found herself in a large open courtyard with various doors leading from it. The walls were constructed of enormous sandstone blocks of varying sizes; so big, they looked impossible to move without a crane. In contrast, the floor was cobbled with small, equally sized stones, similar to beach pebbles, in a geometric pattern. Flowering ivy grew up the walls, and to the left where a wall might have been, stood tall Greek styled columns that led to a terrace, and beyond a lush green garden.

‘Welcome, my dear daughter, welcome,’ said a tall, handsome man, his arms outstretched.

‘Mother, Mamma,’ Ann shrieked when she noticed her mother beside him. She was alive, and looked exactly as she did in the photograph Padraig had given her, having not aged a day. The only difference being, she now dressed like a princess. Her long flowing gown was the finest teal coloured velvet with a pattern similar to fleur-de-lis embroidered in gold on the front panel. Around her tiny waist, she wore a golden belt that complimented the golden jewels that adorned her long raven hair.

Running, Ann flung herself into her mother’s arms. In that moment she felt like a child again as they embraced, her mother holding her tightly, swaying her from side to side.

The man joined them. ‘Together at last,’ he whispered wrapping his arms around them both.

Tears ran down Ann’s cheeks as she looked up at her parent’s faces. ‘I remember, I can remember you now. I always believed you were somewhere, Mother, somewhere I could reach you… always. It was the dreams, where I thought you were in Heaven, but I could somehow visit you there. Now I remember I was here with you both. I remember it all.’

Smiling tenderly her mother answered in a familiar voice. ‘Yes, Annaldra, you have visited us often. We have never been apart for long.’

‘And Father, it is really you? I’ve met you so many times in my dreams, though I never remembered them, but now I do,’ she said looking at him as though it were the first time. His long silvery, blonde hair was like hers, but braided. He had bright turquoise eyes and sharp features; he looked so handsome in his fine grey tunic trimmed with leather: so tall, young and strong.

‘Yes, Annaldra, I am your father,’ he said stroking her hair. ‘My name is Endrick, a lord of the Tuatha Dé Danann.’ Ann recognised his voice as the one in her head. ‘Come let us walk in the garden.’

Putting their arms around her, her parents led her to a garden. It was the most beautiful garden she had ever seen, growing in tiers around the stack, spiralling down like a helter-skelter. Trees hung with large, sweet smelling, fruits, some familiar: oranges, lemons and peaches, but they were much larger than normal and more lush, but others were unrecognisable to Ann. Whatever they were, they smelt delicious. Every plant was in bloom and she realised the gentle humming sound was the sound of life; the garden was singing. Everything seemed more alive, more colourful, and lovelier, than in her world. Could the Hanging Gardens of Babylon have been any more beautiful, she wondered.

A few people roamed idly through the garden. Everyone glowed with a soft luminescence of shimmering pastel colours that radiated from their bodies. Most of them looked like her father: young, blonde-haired and with eyes as bright as gemstones. A few were black haired, but they all had skin the colour of snow, and all were striking and tall. She could see no one less than six feet, except her mother; some she thought must be over seven feet. All dressed in the most eloquent attire as if attending a ball. For a moment, Ann felt awkward dressed in jeans and a green jumper. However, they all smiled kindly at her, tipping their heads in respect and lowering their eyes as they passed, putting her at ease.

Ann turned to her mother. ‘I don’t understand something, you died. They found your body, but you are here, alive.’

Her mother let out a gentle laugh and took her daughter’s hands. ‘Faerie glamour, that’s what it is called in your realm. It was nothing more than that. That was not I, they found. It was a lump of wood glamoured to be like me in every detail. It is powerful and very effective magik.’

‘Wow, everyone believed it was you. They carried out a post-mortem—on a log,’ she giggled.

‘Well, it goes to show, your eyes do not always see the truth,’ her mother said. It reminded Ann of something Tunkeeta might say.

‘But why did you leave me?’ her voice broke as she spoke.

‘My heart tore in two, having to leave you,’ said her mother, her eyes full of sorrow. ‘It was the hardest thing I have ever done, but I had no choice. Had I not left when I did, I could not return. At the time, I believed you would stay with the Ranald family, that they would raise you. You see, if you had stayed in Maidenboat, you could have visited physically, like now, because you are of both worlds, and you alone can pass between the realms without magik.’

‘Come sit. We have much to discuss and your time here is short,’ interrupted her father gesturing towards a large carved wooden bench strewn with green and gold, silk cushions, embroidered with intricate patterns.

Ann looked at her mother with dismay. ’What, I have to go? I have to leave you when I have just found you. I do not want to go. Please, I want to stay here with you.’

Mary gave her daughter a mirthless smile, tears visible in her eyes. ‘I am sorry, Annaldra you must go, but I promise we will be reunited soon.’

‘You do not realise how important you are, Annaldra, what your destiny is, do you?’ her father said.

Ann shook her head. ‘No,’ she replied stroking her pendant. She could feel butterflies taking flight in her belly.

‘Many millennia ago there was a prophecy about a child who could bridge the realms, a child powerful enough to return the magik to the world.’

‘I don’t understand?’

Endrick continued. ‘So little magik remains in the world. It is up to you to return it. You see it hasn’t always been this way. The gates between our realms have not always been closed. There was a time when magik was abundant and they were always open. My race could pass between the realms when it pleased us. Many Dananns lived in your realm then.’ Endrick paused letting out a long laborious sigh, ‘Then Danu closed the gates.’

‘Danu?’ asked Ann.

‘Yes, Danu. Our mother Goddess. She closed them long ago.’

‘Why?’

’Because of two incredibly powerful Dannans named Evel and Ask. ’Her father had anger in his voice when he spoke their names. ‘They fell out of favour with Danu and to punish them she banished them to your realm to live mortal lives. When she did this, she closed the gates between the realms that they may never return. Once closed, only we could open the gates, but it required magik. My people visited often after the gates closed, but far less in recent times, as we have become weaker since magik has dwindled. However, we knew this would happen. A prophecy foretold when magik was all but lost; a child of both realms would be born to bring forth new magik into the world. You are that child,’ said Endrick smiling proudly at his daughter.

’Me?’She placed her hand on her chest and swallowed. ’Are you sure?’The butterflies in her stomach now swarmed like a plague of biblical locusts.

‘Yes, you are the one,’ confirmed her mother smiling proudly. ‘Your blood is both human and Danann.’

She took a deep breath, ‘So, what am I supposed to do to make magik return?’

‘There is still enough magik in your realm to allow you to perform the ritual. It is a simple ritual, but sacred and powerful.’

’You mean a spell?’She was clasping her pendant so tightly it dug into her palm.

‘A spell, a ritual whatever you choose to call it. It is ancient and powerful and you are the only being alive who can perform it. Though fear not, it is simple.’

That is easy for you to say. Her father’s confidence in her was not reassuring. ‘But I don’t understand, why only me?’

Her father took her free hand and cupping it between his, looked deep into her eyes. ‘Annaldra,’ he said with sobering seriousness. ‘You have lived many lives. For over three and a half millennia, you have existed in your realm. You have lived as a bear, a deer, a wolf, a sparrow, a butterfly and many more beings. Your last existence was as an oak tree, the most sacred of all trees. It is because of these lives you have lived, you alone can do this. They will give you the strength and power you need to perform the spell.’

Ann stared at her twitching feet, trying to comprehend what her father had said. This was too crazy, far too crazy. It had to be a dream.

Sensing her confusion, her mother stroked her cheek. ‘Do not worry, Annaldra, it will all become clear. You have an amazing memory, your ability to remember things is uncanny, don’t you think?’

Ann nodded; she had forgotten nothing since she was four years old, and could remember random things from before then as well.

‘Your father’s race bequeathed you this ability,’ said Mary.

Endrick gave a confirming nod. ‘Have you noticed how you remember things when you touch them, things you thought you’d forgotten? When we embraced when you arrived, the fog that clouded the dreams of your visits here lifted.’

It was true. Ann had always believed she visited her parents in her dreams, but until now, when she had physically come, she had no memory of them, only the sense she had been.

Her father seemed to read her thoughts. ’Well, that is because your sense of touch opens doors in your memory. It allows you to return to moments you have experienced, and not only moments in this life but also moments in your past lives. ’Endrick reached into his robe and produced an elaborately embroidered bag, drawn closed by a golden rope. ‘Here, Annaldra, this is for you.’

Ann grinned at her father as she took it from him. It had been a long time since anyone had given her a gift. Fumbling, she untied the rope and opened the bag. It felt like her birthday. She slipped her hand inside to retrieve the contents, her nerves tingling with excitement. She could feel a cord. It was thin, but also heavy. She pulled, slowly, drawing it out, but was somewhat aghast when she saw what it actually was: a dirty, old string with bones, feathers, claws, hair and even teeth tied to it. She immediately dropped it. Yuck, it was disgusting. Nothing on it looked clean. Some larger bones looked like they still had dried flesh attached to them, and she suspected the dark staining on many of the items was dried blood or even faeces. Dispersed between some items were small linen bags that were also grey, but from age, not grime. It looked like something Tunkeeta would use in one of her rituals. It sure-as-hell was not the crystal wand she was expecting to find in such a beautiful bag.

Her disappointment must have shown on her face as Endrick reached across and retrieved the string. ‘This,’ he said raising the string as he spoke. ‘This twine contains parts of you from all your previous existences. Even the bodies of your insect lives are contained within the bags.’

Ann stared at the string still slightly repulsed as her father untied a large, brown feather with white tinges and rested it in his palm. ‘Place your hand on this feather and feel the eagle within you,’ he said.

‘Go on,’ coaxed her mother. ‘It cannot harm you.’

Taking a deep breath and closing her eyes, Ann laid her hand on her father’s, pressing her palm into the feather. Then, like a gentle wind, swirling inside her, she sensed the eagle’s presence. ‘I can feel it, I… I remember,’ she said with great excitement. She shut her eyes again feeling the increasing essence of the eagle. It was invigorating. ‘Wow,’ she said in a half-trance, ‘that was amazing. I’ve never felt anything like it.’

‘There is more. The items attached to the twine will also give you the power to transform back into those lives. This is something you must do,’ her father said in a tone that quelled Ann’s excitement. ‘You must change into them all. By becoming each of these lives again, you will give your blood their strength, and you must have this power within you to cast the spell.’

Ann was staring at the string through different eyes. Gone was her repulsion of it; in its place was apprehension.

Her father continued. ‘The spell must be cast before midnight on the first night of the Hunter’s moon. Therefore, when you leave tonight, you will have a month to complete all the skin changes. Transforming will give your blood the power of the lives you once lived. You need not change for long. A few moments is all it takes. Just enough time to feel the spirit of the life you once lived.’

‘But I… I don’t know how.’

‘It is easy to shapeshift. All you do is hold the piece of you between your hands and place them against your heart.’ Endrick mimicked the position as he spoke. ‘Then you must concentrate. Believe you are the life you are holding. When you feel it, relax and let it overwhelm you, and you will change. It is that simple. You will not find it difficult.’

Biting the corner of her bottom lip, Ann still looked unconvinced.

Her father lifted her chin with his forefinger so her face looked directly on his. ‘Imagine an hourglass, and the sand within it is your soul. Your life, Annaldra, is the bottom glass bulb; hence, it is full of the sand. The empty bulb on top is the life you are holding, the life you will become. When the hourglass is turned, your soul travels into the other bulb and you transform into that life. At first it may feel slow as if the neck of the hourglass is narrow, allowing through only a trickling of sand. Then, you will feel a quickening as if the neck is expanding fast, until it becomes the width of the hourglass. Then it is done, and you have transformed.’

Ann nodded, but it lacked confidence. ‘How do I change back?’ The last thing she wanted was to be stuck as something else. ‘How do I turn the hourglass around?’

Endrick laughed again. ‘Even when you shapeshift into something else, there will always be a part that remains you, Annaldra. Focus on that part and you will change back. It is not easy to stay in another skin, even a skin that once belonged to you. You must let yourself fade into the background and let the life you have become dominate you. So have no fear of changing back.’

Ann forced a smile when her mother squeezed her hand.

‘But be warned,’ her father spoke in a sombre tone. ‘You also have a geis placed on you that you must adhere to. You must not speak of this to anyone. You are forbidden from talking about this. Do you understand?’

Ann puckered her brow. ‘No, I’m not sure I do. What is a geis?’

‘A geis a condition, it is a sacred taboo which cannot be broken. No good ever comes from a broken geis. Annaldra, I beg you, do not mention this to any mortal.’

‘What will happen if I break it?’

‘I do not know,’ sighed Endrick. ‘But I can tell you the consequences will be grave.’

‘Anyway, you need not worry,’ assured Ann with a confident smile, knowing no one would believe her anyway. ‘I will not break the geis. I promise.’

‘I know you won’t,’ said Endrick as he retrieved something from his robe. ‘You will need these for the spell.’

Ann watched her father as he unrolled a black velvet cloth revealing a dagger, a small glass bottle and a candle. She lifted the dagger with its golden handle encrusted with jewels, and on the hilt was a large round black crystal.

‘These objects are sacred and should be treated with respect.’

Ann nodded, immediately placing the dagger back down on the velvet cloth.

‘When the moon is next full you must go to the stone circle on the mound, the one you call Clementina Hill. In the centre of the circle, there is a flat stone with a hole cut into the middle of it. Around the hole are circular petroglyphs. Place the candle in the hole and light it.’ Endrick lifted the glass bottle. ‘Within this vial is water from the fountain of knowledge. After you light the candle, you must cut your left hand with the dagger. Open the vial and hold your bleeding hand up to the moon and pour the water over it while sounding Mehaney.’

Ann blinked and stared at her father with a look of confusion having sounded the strange word in a tone that could at best be described as that of a singing feline. Taking a slow, deep breath, ‘Mehaney,’ she repeated. Surprisingly, the noise came naturally to her.

‘Perfect,’ her mother said with a reassuring smile.

Her father continued. ‘Your blood and the water must flow over the flame of the candle. Keep sounding Mehaney until it does. When the liquid connects with the flame your part is over, the Moon will do the rest, creating new magik—a pure magik.’

Ann nodded. This part at least sounded simple.

‘When dawn breaks on the third day, there will be enough magik to allow the gates between our realms to open again.’

‘This is your destiny Annaldra,’ her mother said with a proud smile. ‘To return magik and join our realms. This ritual will give rise to a new Golden Age, all because of you.’

Ann returned her mother’s smile; this was something she understood. Tunkeeta used to talk about the Earth’s epochs and the next Golden Age. She said the wheel of the world moved through different ages, or cycles, with each quarter turn it made. There were four ages, the current one being the Age of Iron, the most awful of the ages. The next turn would return the world to the Golden Age, the most wonderful age. The other two ages were silver and bronze with each one getting progressively worse. Each age lasted many thousands of years.

‘Afterwards can I live here with you?’

Her mother squeezed her hand again. ‘Yes, we will be together again soon, all of us… properly together.’

‘Until then, can I still visit?’

Mary took both her daughter’s hands and smiled at her like an angel. ‘Yes, but only in your dreams, and now you have physically been here you will remember those dreams when you waken.’

Ann’s face brightened like a flower finding the sun. It comforted her to know she could return and even better, she would not forget when she did.

‘It is time for you to leave. Do you understand everything we’ve told you?’

Nodding, she let out a long drawn-out sigh, reluctant to leave.