“And if I make the wrong choice?”
“What is the wrong choice? How will you ever know?”
“You riddle like someone else I know.”
“You speak of the Wyrds.”
“Yes.”
“And what do they say on the matter?”
Hover through the fog, the snow, the filthy air. There to meet with Macbeth. “Little I can understand.”
Aridmis smiled. “I’ve met your sisters a few times. They have their own ways. In the end, your choices are your own to make. Choose wisely.”
I nodded. The first rays of morning sunlight shimmered into the room. “Breakfast?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “Fasting.”
“Thank you, Aridmis.”
“For riddles?” she asked with a smile.
“For…for reminding me that I can choose.”
She nodded and opened up the door once more.
“I can tell you one thing you will like to hear,” she said as I stepped out into the snowy square.
I raised an eyebrow at her.
She set her hand on my stomach. “A boy and a girl. Both healthy.”
I set my hand on hers. “Thank you.”
She let me go, nodded, and then went back inside.
I looked up at the sky. A hawk called as it flew over the coven then off into the forest.
“Gillacoemgain,” I whispered. “May my love fly to you,” I said then closed my eyes, trying to feel the thin space between the worlds, the space between him and me, wanting him to feel me. I dare not cast to him, but I wanted him to know how much I loved him. In that small moment, I sensed my husband. I surrounded him with my love, then felt it reflect back to me. But in that strange empty space to which I’d opened myself, I felt more love than just Gillacoemgain’s. There was another voice in the ether, another spirit that sought me, and I knew his nature like I knew myself. Banquo.
Cerridwen?
I pulled back, forcing myself away from him. I opened my eyes, planting myself in the real world once more. The wound on my heart strained. I would not think of Banquo. Not then. Not now. Never again.
“Cerridwen,” Bride called as she stepped out of her house. “I’ve got a taste for elderberries this morning. Come, let’s see what Epona has in storage.”
Moving slowly, I joined Bride, hooking my arm in hers. Together, we shuffled through the snow toward Epona’s house.
Bride laughed. “Like two turtles racing.”
I chuckled and wrapped the world around me like a blanket, insulating myself from the feeling that wanted to break my heart. A familiar ache crept across my head, threatening to explode. I steeled myself to it. Instead, I listened to the call of birds in the forest and the sound of Kelpie nickering as Uald chatted to him. I would not let the sorrow drown me.
The day passed slowly. My body ached with contractions. I felt like someone was knifing me in the back. When I lay down that night, my groin felt heavy, so I was not surprised when I woke in the middle of the night with labor pains. It was beginning.
“Sid,” I gasped, realizing that my water had broken. My clothing and the blankets were wet.
Sid woke groggily. “Ugh, you could have waited until morning, at least, Raven Beak,” she said with a laugh. “Let me go get Epona.”
The pain lasted for hours, coming in sharp, shooting batches, but I was able to manage. Night passed into morning, and the sun climbed higher into the sky as the birthing pains racked me. Epona and Sid stayed with me the entire time, Madelaine coming in and out to check on me. Seeing me in pain, so it turned out, was too much for her to bear. Bride brought everyone food and drink, eyeing me sympathetically.
By the lunch hour, it was time.
“Help her,” Epona told Sid who sat on the bed behind me, supporting my body. “Now, Cerridwen, comes the hard work. Do as I say.”
I nodded, tears streaming down my cheeks. The pain was unbearable.
Epona checked me once more then nodded. “Good girl. Now we push,” she told me. “Push with all your might.”
I pushed hard, feeling like my body was breaking. I screamed.
Outside, Thora howled. In the midst of all the pain and confusion, her distress worried me. When I heard her, I flung myself from my body. I stood in shadow form outside Sid’s house. I bent to comfort my dog.
“It will be all right,” I told her.
Thora quieted and wagged her tail.
I saw that Madelaine and Uald were also waiting outside. Madelaine wept as she heard me cry out.
“She’ll be okay,” Uald reassured her. “She’s a fighter.”
“It’s too dangerous, carrying two.”
Uald shook her head. “Nothing will stop your niece. Nothing would dare.”
I smiled at Uald then turned to go back. Before I did so, however, I noticed a strange, blurry spot on the hillside. The moment I saw it, I traveled to and through it, arriving once more at the cauldron terrace in Ynes Verleath. Andraste and Nimue stood waiting.
“Andraste?” I whispered.
“The legend of Cerridwen tells that the Goddess bore a son who was Taliesin. Yet, as we all know, Taliesin was Goddess-loved, thus he had a secret name. Can you guess it, Cerridwen?”
I shook my head. My soul was tired. I had lost so much energy in the birthing process. I heard Sid whisper “come back” into my ear.
Andraste smiled at me. “The Goddess called him Lulach. Go, child. Your babies await.”
I turned away from Ynes Verleath, my raven’s eyes spying the coven below me, but in the darkness far away, I saw fire. I smelled smoke and felt the flames. And I heard screaming.
“Gruoch!” Gillacoemgain called. “Gruoch!”
“Gillacoemgain,” I whispered. I moved to go to him.
“No,” Sid yelled, appearing in her spirit guise before me. “No!” She grabbed my arm and pulled me roughly back toward my body.
I heard myself suck in a deep breath.
“Back. She’s back,” Sid said, sounding relieved
“Thank the Mother,” Epona said, her words drowned out by a squalling voice. “Your daughter,” she said, setting a wailing bundle in my hands.
“Oh Crearwy,” I whispered, pressing my cheek against her head. “Oh, my poor sweet baby, your father is dead.”
The women in the room were struck silent.
Through my tear-clouded eyes, I looked at Sid who picked up another bundle and handed it to me. “Your son.”
Madelaine entered a moment after, clasping her hands before her mouth as she looked at me.
“A boy and a girl,” I told her.
Weeping, Madelaine leaned over me and the little ones, kissing all of us.
While Crearwy cried, my baby boy looked around with squinty little eyes. “Hello, Lulach,” I said, kissing him on the forehead. My emotions poured out of me, and I wept bitterly. I knew that Gillacoemgain was dead. And he had died thinking he was leaving me and his children behind. I didn’t know what was going to come next, but more than anything else, I knew I had to protect our children.
“Feisty gal,” Sid said at last, bending over to kiss Crearwy. “Maybe try nursing her?” she suggested, gently taking Lulach from me.
“Come now, little lass,” I told her, setting her to my breast. Luckily, she latched easily.
It was then that I saw that something had caught Sid’s attention. She was looking from Lulach to the incorporeal air, seemingly listening to someone. Nadia.
“Yes,” she whispered then added, “go ahead.”
I squinted my eyes to see the fairy woman but was too exhausted.
Sid smiled at me. “She kissed him, put a blessing on him. Look,” she said, touching Lulach between eyebrows where he now had a small red dart on his skin.