up from the mountainside. Following as she ducked behind it, I saw that the tree concealed a few promontories like rough steps leading to a dark, narrow crevice.
"Is that it?" My heart raced. "The doorway?"
"Hmm?" My mother glanced over her shoulder. "Ah, no. Only the entrance to the hollow hill."
One by one, we squeezed into the crevice. It was a tight enough space that it made me anxiousbut somewhere ahead, I could hear the sound of my uncle's pipe, the sound echoing oddly. I followed my mother as she edged sideways down the dark, narrow passage for longer than I cared to recall.
And then it opened.
I stared, dumbstruck.
It was a cave, but it was like no cave I'd ever seen. For one thing, it was vast. There was light coming from an opening somewhere above, illuminating it. Many of the surfaces were smooth and looked to have been sculpted of milk made solid. Shapes like icicles thrust up from the floor, hung down from the roof. My uncle Mabon stood atop what looked to be a frozen waterfall, playing. The notes of his pipe bounced and echoed from the walls. I wandered in an awed daze. To the right, I could see that there were further passages.
"There is a legend that the mighty Donnchadh carved this place out of the mountain for our people to hide," my mother said behind me. "Me, I suspect it is older, for the stone door stood long before his time."
"It's wonderful," I breathed.
She smiled. "Don't go wandering. Even one of our kind can get lost in here without the gift of stone."
Mabon lowered his pipe. "Any mind, folk are waiting. Come!"
We clambered up the slippery stone waterfall. When I reached the top, my uncle helped me up, then took my shoulders in his hands and gazed at me. "Ah, Moirin child," he murmured. "You may not have proved a great magician, but you're a rare beauty." His dark gaze was soft. "I'm so very sorry about the lad."
My throat tightened. "How did you know?"
He smiled sadly. "We're not all such recluses as your mother. Word of a royal death travels swiftly."
After greeting my mother fondly, Mabon led us farther up and farther inside the mountain. Here and there, shafts of light lit our way. In places, strange crystalline formations grew from the walls, tinted pale blue and gold. There was a gorge where a real waterfall poured into darkness. We crossed the gorge on a narrow, hanging bridge, the underground stream flowing far beneath our feet.
It was beautiful.
And I could not help but think two thoughts. One, that I wished Cillian could have seen it. The other, that this was a place of the Maghuin Dhonn. I didn't need to be told it was a sacred place. I could feel it in every step I took, in the way the air breathed over my skin. And if the Maghuin Dhonn Herself chose not to acknowledge me, I feared this place would be lost to me.
On the journey, wrapped in grief, I hadn't given thought to it.
Now I did, and I was scared.
At last we climbed a smooth shaft into which hand and footholds had been carved. I could sense the presence of people above us and smell wood-smoke. At the top, other hands helped us.
We emerged into a large cavern. It wasn't wondrously sculpted, just ordinary rugged granite, but the scale was impressive. There was a cooking fire in the center beneath an opening to vent the smoke. At the far end, it opened onto sunlight and an expanse of blue sky.
"Moirin." Oengus embraced me. "Welcome."
I inclined my head. "Thank you, my lord Oengus."
A wizened old woman behind him burst into a cackling laugh. "Ah-ha-ha! Lord Oengus, is it? Listen to her, manners fit for a lady of the Dalriada!"
I flushed, hurt and angry and embarrassed.
"Peace, Nemed." Oengus gave her a sharp look. "The lass needs no reminding of her loss."
"Oh, aye." The old woman worked her shriveled lips in a chewing motion. "Forgive me, child. I'm old. I guided your mother through the rite, and her mother before her. Such a pity that one died young."
My mother took a deep breath. "Nemed"
"I mean no harm,
"Is that it?" My heart raced. "The doorway?"
"Hmm?" My mother glanced over her shoulder. "Ah, no. Only the entrance to the hollow hill."
One by one, we squeezed into the crevice. It was a tight enough space that it made me anxiousbut somewhere ahead, I could hear the sound of my uncle's pipe, the sound echoing oddly. I followed my mother as she edged sideways down the dark, narrow passage for longer than I cared to recall.
And then it opened.
I stared, dumbstruck.
It was a cave, but it was like no cave I'd ever seen. For one thing, it was vast. There was light coming from an opening somewhere above, illuminating it. Many of the surfaces were smooth and looked to have been sculpted of milk made solid. Shapes like icicles thrust up from the floor, hung down from the roof. My uncle Mabon stood atop what looked to be a frozen waterfall, playing. The notes of his pipe bounced and echoed from the walls. I wandered in an awed daze. To the right, I could see that there were further passages.
"There is a legend that the mighty Donnchadh carved this place out of the mountain for our people to hide," my mother said behind me. "Me, I suspect it is older, for the stone door stood long before his time."
"It's wonderful," I breathed.
She smiled. "Don't go wandering. Even one of our kind can get lost in here without the gift of stone."
Mabon lowered his pipe. "Any mind, folk are waiting. Come!"
We clambered up the slippery stone waterfall. When I reached the top, my uncle helped me up, then took my shoulders in his hands and gazed at me. "Ah, Moirin child," he murmured. "You may not have proved a great magician, but you're a rare beauty." His dark gaze was soft. "I'm so very sorry about the lad."
My throat tightened. "How did you know?"
He smiled sadly. "We're not all such recluses as your mother. Word of a royal death travels swiftly."
After greeting my mother fondly, Mabon led us farther up and farther inside the mountain. Here and there, shafts of light lit our way. In places, strange crystalline formations grew from the walls, tinted pale blue and gold. There was a gorge where a real waterfall poured into darkness. We crossed the gorge on a narrow, hanging bridge, the underground stream flowing far beneath our feet.
It was beautiful.
And I could not help but think two thoughts. One, that I wished Cillian could have seen it. The other, that this was a place of the Maghuin Dhonn. I didn't need to be told it was a sacred place. I could feel it in every step I took, in the way the air breathed over my skin. And if the Maghuin Dhonn Herself chose not to acknowledge me, I feared this place would be lost to me.
On the journey, wrapped in grief, I hadn't given thought to it.
Now I did, and I was scared.
At last we climbed a smooth shaft into which hand and footholds had been carved. I could sense the presence of people above us and smell wood-smoke. At the top, other hands helped us.
We emerged into a large cavern. It wasn't wondrously sculpted, just ordinary rugged granite, but the scale was impressive. There was a cooking fire in the center beneath an opening to vent the smoke. At the far end, it opened onto sunlight and an expanse of blue sky.
"Moirin." Oengus embraced me. "Welcome."
I inclined my head. "Thank you, my lord Oengus."
A wizened old woman behind him burst into a cackling laugh. "Ah-ha-ha! Lord Oengus, is it? Listen to her, manners fit for a lady of the Dalriada!"
I flushed, hurt and angry and embarrassed.
"Peace, Nemed." Oengus gave her a sharp look. "The lass needs no reminding of her loss."
"Oh, aye." The old woman worked her shriveled lips in a chewing motion. "Forgive me, child. I'm old. I guided your mother through the rite, and her mother before her. Such a pity that one died young."
My mother took a deep breath. "Nemed"
"I mean no harm,
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