There were the familiar trees, grass, and shrubs of the natural world, but the sky shone with a luminous bronze color, as if the only light in this world came not from the fiery orb of the sun, but from the sky itself or some great, obscure source behind it so that illumination reached this strange world dimly diffused, as rushlight through the glowing cloth of a tent.
He looked closer and saw that the trees themselves and even the blades of grass radiated this unearthly light. The air of this place-if it could be called air, for the atmosphere was dense and turgid, more like transparent fog-was also faintly luminous, so that it seemed as if the land were wrapped in a shining mist. The air trembled ever so Sightly with the sound of eerily exotic music, bright and flowing like the music of shepherd’s pipes, though purer, finer, and changeable as water. This music apparently emanated from the growing, living things around about, for there was no human creature or being near that Taliesin could see.
Away in the distance, across a wide and rolling plain, there were mountains whose tops were lost in the glowing sky. And the notion came to Taliesin that he had only to lift his foot and start toward them and he would be instantly transported across the plain and onto those faraway slopes. There would be caves in those mountains with passages leading down, down, down into the darksome underworld. But Taliesin did not lift his foot and did not travel to the mountains; instead he turned and saw a stream winding among the trees to a forest pool a short distance away.
The turf was springy underfoot, as if the grass resisted his footfall; he glanced behind him to see that his feet left no normal imprint upon the earth, though a slight glimmer outlined each step. He followed the stream to the pool and knelt in the bracken at the water’s edge where the stream entered the pool. Here he gazed into the crystalline water as it flowed over smooth-polished stones that shone like smoked amber. And there, just beneath the surface of the gliding water, he saw a woman, asleep among the long, flowing strands of green horsetail.
She was dressed in a white garment that shimmered as the water rippled over it. Her hair, golden like his own, was long, with two shorter braids at her temples and the rest streaming and waving in a golden halo around her head as if a gentle breeze, not water, vere passing through it. Her skin was fine ivory, her lips red and slightly parted so that he could glimpse her pearl-bright teeth, perfectly formed. Her eyes were closed; dark lashes lightly brushed her cheeks; and judging from the soft orbits of their sockets, her eyes, when awake, would be large and, like her other features which were shaped with such grace and symmetry, unutterably beautiful.
Her long, exquisite hands were folded over her breast where she held, lightly clasped, a gleaming sword whose gemmed hilt rested just beneath her chin. The long, tapering blade was chased with odd symbols and a strange inscription Tal-iesin could not decipher. It wavered in the play of water and light over its keen surface, which to Taliesin indicated that it was in some way alive.
Taliesin was not astonished to see this woman asleep beneath the rippling surface of the pool; rather, he was pleased, awed. And he was glad that she was sleeping, for he could not otherwise have stared at her with such audacity.
In looking, he experienced a longing to know and be known by this mysterious and beautiful woman, to lose himself in her presence. In all, a strange sensation, and one which the young Taliesin did not understand but identified as Belonging to that other, older part of himself. Overcome by the confusion caused by the intensity of these feelings, he rose and, letting his eyes linger over her comely form a last time, turned away.
He raised his eyes and looked across the pool to see a man standing among the cattails and marsh fern on the opposite shore, warching him. The man wore a deerskin hood and a cloak of glistening bristles, which Taliesin thought very strange until he realized the bristles were feathers.
The deerskin hood hid the man’s face and the marsh fern the lower half of his body; yet Taliesin imagined that he knew this man, or would know him if he could but see the hidden face. As if in answer to this thought, the man raised a gloved hand to the hood and pushed it back, revealing his face. Although Taliesin stared intently, he could not discern the man’s appearance, for the man had no face at all, merely the impression of a face where his features should be.
And where the eyes would have been, a midnight sky full of stars endlessly circled a hill crowned by an ancient ring of standing stones.
Taliesin thought to call out to the man, to approach and bow down before him, for the man was certainly a figure to be revered. But when he raised his hand to hail him, the feather-cloaked watcher vanished.
Following the stream back to the place where he had awakened, Taliesin emerged from the grove to see an apple tree standing in the center of the clearing where he himself had stood. The apples were great, golden globes among pale green clusters of leaves. Taliesin stepped forward and picked one of the apples; it filled the whole of his hand. His mouth watered as he looked at the flawless skin, imagining the white, tart-sweet flesh inside. He raised it to his mouth.
At once he heard a voice coming from beyond the glowing gold-green sky:
“Come forth, Shining Brow!”
The voice had in it the rumble of thunder and the authority of the storm. It was a wild voice, yet refined in a way which Taliesin understood as having to do with the command and governance of not only men and their actions, but their innermost allegiances as well. The voice of a chieftain, or better still, an emperor, for Taliesin heard in it the very essence of sovereignty-as if its owner were someone whose every utterance is obeyed by minions dedicated solely to obliging their lord in whatever form his concerns might take at any given moment. Clearly he had been addressed by one of the lords of this strange place, perhaps the supreme lord himself.
“ Speak, Shining Brow!”
Hearing this, Taliesin dropped the apple and fell on his knees, raising his eyes to the strange Otherworld sky. He opened his mouth, but no words came forth.
“Very well, Shining Brow, I will teach you what to say,” said the voice in response to its own command. There was a blinding flash of light and Taliesin fell on his face and hugged the ground. He was aware of a presence standing over him, for it gave off heat which he could feel through his clothing. But he did not move, did not dare to raise his head again.
When Taliesin came to himself again, the woods were dark with shadows and the sun a dull yellow glow in the west. The heavy drone of summer-sated insects filled the air, mimicking the buzz in his head. Cormach was still seated on the oak stump, his rowan staff across his lap. Hafgan, standing beside the Chief Druid, appeared anxious and agitated; his mouth was moving in an odd way and Taliesin realized he was talking.
“… was not ready… bringing him along too quickly… too young… not time yet…” Hafgan was muttering.
Cormach sat with his shoulders hunched, gripping the staif in his gnarled hands, his wrinkles creased in a scowl, but whether of anger or concern Taliesin could not tell. Neither one of them seemed to take any notice that he was awake and could hear them. He was about to speak up and show them he had returned when he realized that his eyes were still closed. Closed, yet he saw everything as clearly as if his physical eyes were wide open and staring.