The Sword of Feimhin by Frank P. Ryan Page B

to whisper into her elongated ears, the lobes perforated and widened to take spools of ivory a full six inches in diameter.
    â€˜There are creatures out there. Shaami called one a keeper, but he couldn’t tell me what that meant.’
    â€˜When a civilisation is about to end they come. They observe.’
    When a civilisation is about to end?
    â€˜On whose behalf do they come and observe?’
    â€˜The Keepers of Night and Day have their duty to observe.’
    â€˜Oh, Momu, you’re talking in riddles.’
    Kate had no idea who, or what, the Keepers of Night and Day might be, but they sounded ominous. She desperately wanted to help. She had learned so much from the Momu’s friendship, their mental and spiritual communion. She recalled waking from a restful sleep in the sea-urchin-shaped chamber where she had slept, whose walls had glowed. She had hugged the eiderdown bedcovers to her nose and mouth, with no idea just how long she had been immersed in this dream-like state, her mind still floating in a kind of ecstasy of revelation with the Momu. The level of communion had been altogether deeper than what would have been possible with words alone. Through the love and kindness of the Momu, she had acquired an understandingmore complex than any other she had ever encountered before, a sense of wisdom.
    This understanding had changed her, made her aware, physically and spiritually, of her own role, of the power and use of the emerald triangle in her brow. But in absorbing such a level of understanding, in being immersed, mentally and spiritually with the Momu, Kate had also come to understand that the Momu was dying, that her time was limited, and that she, Kate, was being asked to accept the responsibility that such knowledge brought with it.
    A new female – young, vigorous – must be born. But before the Momu could give birth to her successor, she had to rise from her despair. And to do this she must have hope – hope for the future for her people, so that her successor could bring a new joy of life, and communion, into the world.
    But how, in the circumstances Kate found herself, could she promise hope for the future of the Cill?
    Kate sat down among the roots, willing herself to be one with the strange and wonderful being who had befriended her when her need had been equally great. The falling brine had caused the Momu’s hair to adhere to her elongated skull. Those beautiful mother-of-pearl eyes were drifting closed, and now that Kate was close enough to hold the great webbed hand, she saw that the tree’s roots were not merely growing around the Momu, the rootlets were invading the flesh of her legs, and rising to cocoon the rest of her.
    â€˜Oh, no – they’re devouring you.’
    â€˜There is no unkindness intended. The roots of the One Tree merely respond to their own growing hunger.’
    Kate gazed down at the heavy crystal of greenish-blue hung on a gold filigree chain around the Momu’s neck. The crystal of power retained but the faintest glow.
    â€˜Please advise me. Tell me what to do.’
    The Momu’s golden eyes performed that slow blink, and she placed her hand on Kate’s arm. ‘The One Tree is a mere twig of the Tree of Life. Like me, it is dying. Long ago it called upon Nidhoggr, the serpent who gnaws at the roots of the world, to give it life. Now Nidhoggr demands its return. He would also take me back.’ She sighed, a long, mournful sound. ‘You must not stay here. It is too dangerous. My reason is ebbing fast. I cannot save you, any more than my people, for my mind has been invaded by the phantoms of despair.’
    â€˜I’ll stop it. I’ll stop Nidhoggr. I won’t allow it.’
    â€˜You cannot stop it – not even with your blessed power. Go – go now! Leave this chamber while there is yet time.’
    â€˜I will not go. I came to save you and your people. I won’t abandon the Momu or the