Grass and Stone
The dream when it came was less threatening than it had been the night before. The opening was dark and somehow heavy feeling, but it did not terrify him as it had before and the light that shimmered around it did not blind him. He walked toward it with a steady pace, his pulse just beginning to pump a steady humming rhythm. He felt a cool breeze pass over him as he entered. He stood in the dark feeling the same overwhelming sense of being absorbed. He coud see the walls and noticed carvings on them. Turning he realized the space was small. As he slowly revolved to take in the entire cave he found his gaze wandering to the ceiling and it was then that the shaft of light stabbed through him, penetrating him and holding him both blind and motionless. His mind became unanchored, disconnected from himself. He floated along the beam of light, swirling upward. He could not say how long this lasted, just that it held him transfixed and separated in an oddly exhilarating way. When the light left him, he was in complete darkness. He stumbled and fell. Expecting rock, he was surprised to find a thick moss carpet beneath his hands. He laid himself out in the dark knowing he was no longer truly in the cave. He closed his eyes; he couldn't see in the dark anyway. He could hear a distant sound of running water and he could smell the light peaty scent of the moss he lay on. Then he caught another scent, something familiar and out of place, something comforting. He rolled toward the soft scent and stretched out his hand, finding the silk of her hair. He ran his fingers through her the length of it. She turned into his hand and he cupped her face gently. They found themselves wound around each other on the moss bed, the water symphony behind them urging them forward. The pure and complete pleasure of each touch was so exquisite it left him breathless and still needing more. She pulled up to look at him and as their eyes met, he lifted his hand to curl his fngers through her hair. In that moment of shattering completeness she was gone, nothing more than mist and a scrap of crimson silk woven round his fingers. The water continued to sing while he held silently to the silk and waited for this insanity to pass. He drifted into sleep on his moss bed, clutching what remained of his dream.
The morning came with the fresh scent of earth washed clean by the rain. The colors seemed heightened after the grey that had shadowed the evening before. Lin and Fiona sat at the breakfast table and chatted quietly, checking the time occasionall. It seemed odd that Roary was not yet down. It was unlike him to run late and he was almost twenty minutes late this morning. When he finally made it down to table, he looked horrible.
"Are you all right?" inquired Fiona.
"Rough night," responded Roary, "Just need some strong tea or a spot of coffee. I'll be fine."
He turned from them and went to the sideboard, poured a cup of coffee and put together a breakfast plate.
He sat and ate without making eye contact.
"I think I'll go get the things together," said Fiona
Her absence seemed to make the table too small. Lin could feel Roary's discomfort.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Lin asked
"I have no idea what ye are talkin about."
"Bull. You are acting like we have some sort of disease this morning. What is going on?"
"Well, if ye must know, I had a rather disturbing dream last night and ye were rather prominent in it."
"Well, if it was just a dream, then it can be put aside, can't it? We are not talking reality so no harm, no foul, right?"
"I canna be sayin that. It may have been but a dream, but it was powerful real to me. An' we have been there before, though ye seem eager enough to forget it."
"Oh, well, it's not that, it's. . . . Hell, Roary, I don't know what it is, but it's not a good time."
They looked at each other then, the first time during the whole conversation. Truly looked at each other, their eyes making contact in a way that they needed to and that was enough for now. She took his hand in hers, "Perhaps we should take some time to talk tonight."
"Aye, that we should."
They cleared their plates and cups and went to join Fiona.
They drove out to the Cairn and pulled in where they had stopped the night before. It was not quite the right spot, but they could see the mound from where they were. Apparently there was no visitor's center at this site. They climbed out and walked the short distance to the mound. Roary was struck by how soft and green the expanse looked, like a vast blanket unfurled over the wide mound of earth. They circled round the girth of it, finding two entrances, one with a shallow curve leading in and the other more open with a lintel-like shape marking the passageway in. Fiona and Lin started toward the passage with the lintel. Roary held back, a bit uncertain about entering the site. "I'll have a go at the other side," he called.
He wandered back, hands stuffed in his pockets, head tucked down avoiding the glare of the sun that suddenly seemed to be tilting straight into his eyes. He rounded the bend and found himself in front of the small curving passage that now seemed to lead into an incredibly dark space. "Bloody hell, it was just a dream and not such a bad one at that," he mumbled, then moved into the small cavern. He felt it almost immediately, the cold breeze, that feeling of being absorbed, then a sort of bliss of absolution before he felt nothing at all.
Fiona and Lin found the small cavern interesting. It had so many similarities to New Grange, small carvings very much like the Ogham writing in Ian's journal. But all in all, there was not that much to search out and certainly no feeling of drifting into a mystery or a sense of nearing the Sidhe. They soon came out and went in search of Roary, feeling a bit let down that this too seemed to be another lost thread in their hopes of finding the silks. They rounded the curve of the mound and started down toward the other opening. Entering, they were surprised that they did not find him there. It was a fairly small space and not nearly as interesting as the prior cavern. They exited and worked their way back around the mound. They did not see him anywhere. Lin fumbled in her pocket, found her phone, and tried calling him but found she had no signal.
It did not seem possible that he could have walked far enough to not be seen in such a short time with such a wide expanse in view. Where had he gone? The two women stood in the field of green at a complete loss. They had no clue, no idea what to do next. Had he just left? That did not seem likely. Lin pressed her pack into Fiona's hands and ran back to the cave where Roary had gone. Something was wrong, and it had something to do with that cave.
She ran round the bend and into the cave and was met immediately with a frigid breeze. The air was so cold it caught her breath and held her for a moment. She could hear water dancing in the distance. She stepped forward and caught her shoe on a rut, stumbled and fell to her knees. Her hands sank into a deep mossy carpet. She could smell the moss now. It did not belong in this cave, it had not been here before. She tried to stand and realized her foot was wedged. Lowering herself down to the mossy carpet, she sighed deeply and then reached for her foot to pull it free. She wrangled it out of the rut and leaned back in relief. Then she felt a hand in her hair. She froze. The touch was familiar and comforting, She turned toward it and the hand ran down her cheek and cupped her face. And then he was there. They were there in the dark, on the moss, a part of the water's dance. She felt absorbed, absolved and then suddenly she was simply alone in the cave with a foot that throbbed.
She pulled herself together mentally, took a few deep breaths and made her way back to Fiona.
"Whatever we thought about the Sidhe not being here, we were wrong," she noted simply.
"What did you do to your foot?"
"Wrenched it in that awful cave."
"What do we do now?"
"Wait, I guess," Lin replied in a whisper, relieved that Fiona had not asked anything more about the cave.
They sat in the green expanse, waiting, reading, writing, but mostly just waiting.
When he appeared, it was near dusk. He looked wrung out and disheveled but was strangely smiling. He said nothing until he made it to their feet. Then he sat down with them and laid a crimson silk out upon the green grass.
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