Naamah's Blessing

There is a meadow where they may graze, and a stream where they may drink. Is there aught you need from your packs?”
    I glanced at Bao, who shook his head. “No.”
    Once we had dismounted, Breidh blew softly into the nostrils of Bao’s horse, then took the reins and led it silently into the forest. My mount trailed obediently behind him, the pack-horses following, all with ears pricked gladly.
    Bao watched them go. “Your folk have a way with animals, Moirin.”
    “Aye.”
    This time, I knew the way. At a quiet nod from my mother, I began ascending the slope of the mountain, making for an ancient, gnarled pine-tree that jutted forth from the tall hill at a sharp angle. I wondered how long it had stood there, marking and concealing the path. When I reached it, I laid a hand on its trunk, sensing its age. It had stood for a long time, although not so long as Elua’s Oak; but it was not the first to stand sentinel here. I brushed a green pinecone with one fingertip, wondering who would take its place.
    Behind the pine-tree, a series of rough promontories led to a narrow crevice that led to an even narrower canal. I squeezed through it, my shoulders scraping, feeling the walls with my fingertips and edging my way through the darkness toward a faint, distant light.
    “Gods!” Bao whispered. “It’s like being born!”
    Oengus’ low chuckle sounded behind us. “Exactly right, lad.”
    When the passage into the hollow hill opened, it opened all at once. I stumbled out of constriction into emptiness.
    Ah, stone and sea! It was beautiful, more beautiful than I remembered, more beautiful than any man-made temple. Light came from an opening somewhere far, far overhead, illuminating everything. Tall, tapering columns rose from the cavern floor, descended from the vaulted ceiling. The stone was smooth and milky-pale, hints of blues and greens flowing through its veins, patches of pink and rust blossoming here and there.
    “Moirin…” Bao’s voice was filled with awe. “Is this real?”
    I smiled. “Aye, I think so.”
    One by one, the others emerged behind us, taking a moment to revel in the beauty of the place.
    At length, my uncle Mabon stirred. “Do you remember the way, child?”
    I pointed to a waterfall of frozen stone. “I do.”
    He nodded. “Lead on.”
    There were false passages where one could lose oneself; that, I remembered. We passed them by, climbing the slick frozen fall, passing in and out of shafts of light, past sparkling crystalline structures. With careful steps, we crossed the narrow, rocky bridge over a gorge where dark water spilled over a lip of stone to gurgle and flow far beneath us.
    At last, we came to the final shaft that led to the uppermost cavern, hand-and foot-holds worn smooth by many hands carved into its steep walls. This time, I wondered who had carved the holds, and how many of the Maghuin Dhonn had made this ascent over the centuries.
    Everything was as I remembered, the shaft emerging onto a spacious cavern of ordinary, rugged granite, the far end open onto sunlight and a vast swath of blue sky, smoke from a cooking-fire trickling upward into a natural chimney duct.
    But if Old Nemed had been old before, she was ancient now, a wizened figure huddled in blankets beside the fire, tended by a young woman. The years that sat lightly on my mother weighed heavily on Old Nemed.
    “Fainche’s daughter!” Her voice was a thin wheeze in her chest. She freed one crabbed hand from the folds of her blanket and beckoned to me. “Come here.” I went to kneel before her. Nemed’s rheumy eyes had gone as milky as the walls of the hollow hill, filmed with cataracts. She lifted her gnarled fingers to touch my face. “So you’ve been out and about, eh? Overturning the order of the world, eh?”
    “I’ve done my best to do Her will,” I said humbly.
    She patted my cheek. “Oh, sometimes you have to overturn things to restore them to rights. I trust you’ve learned that much, child.” Craning her neck, she peered past me into whatever dim fog her vision afforded her. “Come, let’s have a look at this young man who thinks to importune the Maghuin Dhonn Herself.”
    Brushing off dust from the walls of the shaft, Bao came forward to kneel beside me. “Greetings, old mother,” he said in a respectful tone.
    Freeing her other hand, Nemed felt at his arms and shoulders and chest, loosing an unexpected cackle. “You picked a nice specimen, anyway! Lean and firm, just the way