The Well Part 2 - The Rowan Shield

Short Story conclusion

The Rowan Shield

She perched at the edge of the well, watching me where I lay under the rim of ancient stone. Leaning forward, she dripped music, black hair merging with the night sky, and what were stars or what were beads of water—her face so pale, where the dark ended she was moonlight, for all I could discern. She had asked if I had waited long, but I didn’t know how to answer. An infant enchanted.

I remember how her fingers caressed my face, the streaks of wet left behind once her touch was gone and each line she made had given me relief.

The weight of the shield kept me on my back. My hands met beneath it at the grip of my sword, everything so heavy over my chest—the sky, those stars at once beautiful and as oppressive as cairn stones, until the earth was gone beneath me, I had stared at her face as it all became mist.

“You wish to see them?”

I must have said yes. Everything twisted atilt—I was above the well reaching down to catch whatever I thought fell—her, I suppose. But the water was undisturbed, the moon behind me hazed the edges of my reflection, so distant all I did was cut the shape from cloth of black and silver.

I thought of Elspet in the well. So vivid I could smell the flax. I could hear her laughter, she held me so tightly—

The rain woke me with a start. William stood watch a few yards ahead on the road, looking to the hills. My horse shook out his mane, and William pointed.

“They’re returning.”

I could still smell the flax, brought up with the rain. I asked how long I had slept, but he didn’t answer.

Using the fencepost for support, I pulled myself up, shaking with the pain but I managed to get to my feet. Over the fence I saw another familiar field—and through it ran my horse, and it was my horse, for Elspet was in the saddle, with a man that looked remarkably like me. A nag followed at full gallop, but not fast enough, a stern rider bellowing commands that his daughter stop. I had seen all this before, from that same vantage as the man behind Elspet—and I wanted desperately to see it again, like that, I wanted to hold Elspet close and breathe her, but Elspet was gone. The fence dug into me as I leaned with such desperation to reach the riders I almost broke the post, one hand outstretched while the other held my blood in. I was too weak to climb over, so my shoulders sagged as I watched the little blue flowers flit and bend under the rain.

I wanted to go home, I had told the ravens. But Elspet wouldn’t be there. It was a cruel remembrance, a nightmare, worse than the field of dead, because Elspet was my dead, my one happiness I had to bury within my soul, just as I had forgotten Dand saying goodbye to me. But he was here—away from where I stood, but here, wherever this was… And I had buried him, too.

I had buried him before I buried Elspet.

William put a hand on my shoulder, breaking me from my thoughts.

“Did you see the riders?” I asked.

“What riders?”

I began shivering—from the rain, or perhaps I was finally about to die—but William held me as if he were a cloak to keep me dry, and he allowed me the chance to weep before I fell to my knees at that damned fence.

“You die after all this,” William said, “and I’ll never forgive you.”

The rain didn’t let up, and after a while William returned to the road to watch the hills. To his satisfaction, I didn’t bleed to death like I had wished to—it just kept spilling and spilling, down to the earth to get washed away into puddles, feeding the grass. I was a horrible fountain. A grotesque fixture against a fencepost, the pain in my head and in my side the only proof I wasn’t becoming mud. I wanted to run, if I couldn’t die I wanted to give chase through the field and find Elspet. It was my mind swirling, of course, the wait had me forget the reason for the waiting.

No more sleep came, though I was ready for it. Long hours later, it felt like, William and I finally heard the baying of hounds. The clouds split, rays of sun lighting the path for a hare. Small and grey, fleeing the barks and snaps of jaws. A hawk circled overhead, and as the hare passed me in such a blur as to startle my spine straight, the hawk dove and pinned the creature under its talons, the shrill cries of the prey like a baby’s wail.

Sweat replaced rain down my brow as Dand and Brice crouched beside me, a hand at each shoulder.

All this confusion, I wanted to swat them from me—but the hare was pleading, without words, but she was pleading for mercy.

I could smell the ravens again—not the ravens—the hare could smell it too. It frightened her, the human dead. I told my hawk—was it mine?—to release the hare and the sleek little thing bolted for my lap, and curled upon it, clinging to my chest, so warm and shaking. When I lowered my chin, I was met with blonde hair, the scent of clover masked out all the rest of the world. No flax, nor field of ravens. As she pulled away to look up at me, I almost threw her off—she looked just like Elspet, but wrong.

In Elspet’s voice, she said, “I never wanted you to go!” And in her own, overtop, she cried, “Oh, sir!” In the fairy-voice there was an almost catlike purr. “Can you keep them from me?”

After a dry swallow I told everyone, man and beast to stay away, and the fairy calmed.

“Thank you.”

“Are you the mountain hare? Ravens told me to find you. Don’t fear my hounds, they did as I bade them.”

“Ravens?” She pushed her face into my neck. “You must be an important knight indeed, a wondrous knight—”

“Enough,” I said, sharp with the hurt of a fairy mimicking my Elspet’s face, naked as the day she was born—if a fairy is born—but eyes remaining that of a hare. “I want to be done with riddles.”

She encircled me, like a blanket of reaching limbs, until she touched the shield and recoiled like it burned her, but she didn’t leave my lap.

Three breaths, and the pain seemed forgotten. “I have no riddles, as I am grateful to you, kind sir,” she thumbed my lip, “but I may have answers. Keep your shield from me, and I shall. Look.”

She pointed upward. The night had come—so fast, or perhaps so smooth I hadn’t noticed, and the moon glowed a reflection of flame, so I thought. The night was ravens, and I remembered why she was brought. “I was told you could tell me how to find the maid of the mere.”

She was too quiet. A serene, yet clever smile spread across her face. “There are many dangers for one such as yourself. Are you sure you wish to know?”

I nodded, the pain in my head throbbing with the motion.

“Mount your horse, my precious knight, and follow the moon. See how it shines the colour of goldenrod? Find you some, pick it and tie it fine. When you can ride no longer, toss it in. She will welcome such a gift.

***

Ride fast.

Everything so dark I had to trust the horse and hounds to find their way, where the hawk flew I couldn’t know but for the echo of its call shrill through the air as we followed that moon in a tempest. I had never ridden so fast or so hard in my life, but the wind in my face, though numbing, didn’t ease the apprehension. There was something dreadful—or nothing at all—and which was worse? I wasn’t going to die, nor was I going to heal, and I didn’t want to be in such a strange place any longer, nor did I want to leave. My companions had gone, again—perhaps they stayed in the hills.

No more dreaming. My thoughts still weren’t clear, but I knew, somehow, none of this was a dream. It seems foolish that I had taken everything as truth, as one does in a dream, but I was too frightened to question anything… My horse didn’t sweat, didn’t huff. In flashes I saw the lances from his chest, I could smell his pierced stomach.

My head ached like I had been hit again, steeling myself as if I would fall from the saddle—

Flames to my right. Had we gone in a circle?

Arrows stuck in every man I saw, bodies in the road we bolted past already broken under hoof and heel and blending perfectly with the churned turf, where cloth turned to skin was flat and mashed.

We continued on. Toward the moon. Always toward the moon. And I was heavy.

***

“You could stay here, my precious knight,” the hare said. Her eyes unnerved me, but I stayed perfectly still—I the prey, now. “There’s nothing to want for.” She pulled a clover from her hair—William’s hand went to his sword, but he didn’t free it. “What would that horrible maid want with one such as you?”

She bit the clover and somehow the motion was like the clover ought to have bled from the headless stem.

“Would you sup with me?”

“No.”

Lightening in her eyes, the rain came again. “After I gave you your answer—after I touched you and offered to feed you of my flesh—” On her feet, and there came William’s sword from the scabbard. Brice copied the action, and the ground beneath me trembled. She no longer resembled my Elspet, but something truly fae—half animal, half woman, and so sinister I stumbled to my feet with my hands at the edge of my shield before me. Dand ran to my side, shouting at the hare to return to the hills.

“Hunters! Killers! I hope you go to the witch, that she might drain every drop of life from what’s left of you! All of them—Put to your sword, and you stand there leaking and hoping you won’t be like them. You wish to return but you would only destroy it as you’ve destroyed the beauty of my land by your moods!”

“If you hate me, why help?” I asked, more heat from my side draining to my boots.

“One kindness given and one kindness taken. Your insult—Go before I change my mind to allow you leave of me!”

***

The night was endless. I was near death in that saddle—wished to be, again desperate for my terrors to end—and yet still I rode, my horse avoiding the reaching hands from the soil and seemed deaf to the moans like creaking branches, nothing to stop us, the dogs ahead of me howling as they ran to part the sea of bodies. One came near enough, I brought up my shield and it cowered from it as the hare had done.

More bodies and my hounds tore at them, only for the devils to rise and die again. My horse kicked many, I held on with all my strength and all I could see were their eyes, yellow as the moonlight, their growls drowned out all but the commands I gave my horse to keep running. The shield was the only thing that kept the corpses from tearing my legs. I knew the knuckle of every hand, they reached for me again and again.

And then a voice. It was William, returned from wherever he had gone, cursing as he dropped his sword. They covered him. He shrieked as they tore into his flesh, loud enough to tear the sky. Thunder rumbled to shake the earth, jolting my horse, and we fled. I regretted having to leave William, just like before.

I closed my eyes and saw those hideous faces, each of them as vivid as the flax, forever tainted. I had slain them, already I had. Everything had burned. My shield-arm ached with the weight of the wood, and all the death I had wrought—My sword-arm, though I hadn’t swung as we followed the moon, burned as if I had, and I knew I would dream it all again. They had soaked me in their blood and for all I shed I wondered if it was more than my own still trailing.

I came to a clearing, alone and chilled, night winds rustling trees. My horse slowed, and either the moon grew brighter or my eyes adjusted. Breathing rough, I dropped from the saddle—without the help I had become used to. If they lived, would they find me here? William—

I fell to all fours and retched. Thick and terrible. It was him that was reflected there. Moon-pale without his helm. I had seen him like this before. I would see him likewise again if I didn’t flee this place.

Something rustled at the edge of the clearing, before the trees grew thick. I tried to find the noise, but it was only the wind. But there—just there, a bunch of goldenrod. If the hare wasn’t being deceitful—what choice did I have but to believe her. I took my knife from my belt and cut the stalks. Bushel in hand, I had nothing to bind them with, so I cut a strip from my tunic and tied a bow. I heard more howling at my back, so warped and strange I didn’t know if it was my hounds or something else. Goldenrod held under my shield, we rode on, my horse and I, toward the moon.

I passed a white shape on a table, stopped to look down on what was so odd a thing to be at the side of a forest path. It was a shroud—I knew I should have left it alone, but foolishly I leaned down and tugged the edge of the cloth until it revealed a face.

Brice stared eyelessly up at me, flies at his mouth. I spurred the horse, shouting at the poor thing, “Ride! Ride!” to keep myself from choking.

***

I could ride no further—the edge of a long, black mere cut the road that invited me to go forward and drown. I decided against it, dismounting, and walked through sand and rocks. On my haunches, getting my feet wet, I could only stare—was this all? Will this be my way home? I tossed the goldenrod into the water and watched the flowers grow sodden and sink. All I could do after they were gone was lie down, and sleep.

Warmth—softness on my lips. I sucked a breath and tasted water, full of life and the faint scent of driftwood. The warmth pulled away and I dared open my eyes—after all I had seen, the fear to see more… but my worries were for naught. Before me knelt a black-haired fairy, fleshed like the spray of water in a storm, silver eyes and dusk-blue lips, and I knew her from the well.

“Who are you?” she asked me.

This had me sweat—hadn’t she known?—but what a simple question and there was nothing on my tongue, but for the memories of my name spoken by my friends. “Allain,” I said. I licked my lips, no longer chapped from thirst.

“And how do you know that?”

What to say? I was mute in my confusion.

She caressed my cheek, ran her cold yet gentle fingers down my chest. I was still bleeding, as naked as she was, but there was no pain.

“You have loved, and been loved. That is what you’ve forgotten. All that is in your name.”

“I don’t understand.”

She stood, and the dawn lit her blindingly, but I felt no need to squint or flinch. I watched the sun down her body like flashes over churning water. All the motions of her made me feel drunk—I couldn’t take my eyes from her, even as the earth spun.

“You loved so strongly, yet you were ready to die at my well. I cannot love like a human loves, and I found it to be a pitiful waste of a human heart. I couldn’t let that happen, Allain. Do you remember what you wished?”

“To see them again.”

“And I granted your wish. You almost didn’t accept the gift. You said you’ve shed too much blood, and you had no way to pay a fairy for her favour.”

“That’s still true, my lady. I’ve nothing left to give.”

“That isn’t so true as you think, sir. I can’t take your love that you’ve already given to another. I will take what pleasure I can, if you promise me you’ll live, once you leave my shee. And you’ll visit my well with your goldenrod until you’re a feeble old man, stuck abed. Then, you’ll have my permission to die.

“That shield must be very heavy, sir knight. How does a man handle such a burden?”

“Not how. Because I must.”

“You must! Do you know what it’s made of?”

“If I answer rowan, you’ll tell me I’m wrong.”

Her laughter was like playful gulls swooping over the shore. “Aye. It is but thoughts, sir knight, just thoughts. This is the reason for such weight. The star is your star. Everything around you since we met at the well—all the thoughts that you have fought away and had you forgetting who you are. But the more you try to shield yourself from them, the more you fight them, the more they come after you in the dark, don’t they? So you try and stop them—try to save yourself from that nastiness—but isn’t it heavy?”

She knelt again at my side, close enough I touched her hair, flowing wet. She kissed my head where the hammer had crushed my helm, and under her lips a sharp tingling spread and like the skull of an infant I felt the fragments knit together.

I wept.

When she pulled away she was even more beautiful a sight through the blur. “I live without regret, as all fairies live. But in watching you, I’ve learned a man’s heart—you’ve bled enough to show the size of yours. Your mother bled for you to live, and you have bled to let others live—and taken blood from others in fair exchange.

“Your friends would not have desired to prove their forgiveness if that were not the case.

“You remember all the faces and every wreath of smoke. Of those you’ve slain—those who tried to slay you—those you’ve lost. It must be too heavy to bear—toss the shield into my water.”

“But it was a gift…”

She laughed again. “Your only guilt is that you believe the things you wish and deny the things you do not. You made the thing! And it’s an ugly thing. It served its purpose, but you must destroy it. Then I’ll heal you, and only then, and I will take great pleasure in it. That is your payment to me.”

I walked with her into the mere, the currents pulling me deep. My wound was sucked through the weeds and she kissed air into my lungs to keep me walking over the mud, the water weighed nothing. I don’t know how long I travelled thus, finding rivers that wove under the earth, until a beam of light above me. I swam toward it, and pulled myself out from a circle of ancient stone.

Thanks so much for reading! I experimented a bit with this piece. Let me know what you think, and if you like what you read, tell your friends!

Did you know goldenrod was used as a divining rod to find water? And the rowan tree (or mountain ash) marked a barrier to the fairy realm? Folklore is fun!