Chapter 32 Non
Non
I was floating. Below me was a navy lake with stars twinkling in its reflection. Llyn Hedd, the lake where Catrin and I would find refuge. That's what I was looking at.
If this is what dying felt like, then it was quite pleasant.
From my elevated position in the air, I could see someone below kneeling at the edge of the lake. From the way their shoulders shook, it looked like they were crying.
I opened my mouth to say something, but I had no voice.
A warm breeze rustled the trees surrounding us, and the person crying looked up.
It was me.
But a much younger me, maybe in my late teens?
For a moment, I thought she could see me hovering in the air above the water. But then she cast her eyes downwards to the rippling waves.
I could see her lips moving, but no sound came from her moth. The sadness etched on her face made me want to cry, too.
There was something familiar about that sadness.
She pushed to her feet and walked to stand on a large rock that overhung the water. Her mouth continued to move, but I couldn't see who she was speaking to.
Then she screamed.
But instead of sound, shadows poured from her mouth. They shimmered under the light of the moon and dove under the water at the centre of the lake.
When she stopped screaming, she collapsed to the floor. I tried to reach for her, but I was suspended in the air with no way of getting down.
She curled into a ball on her side atop the rock and closed her eyes.
Then time seemed to speed up. The sun rose over the trees, and before I knew it, dawn was upon us.
In the centre of the lake, where the shadows had hit, was a moving sphere of water. A dark outline of a figure could be seen inside. It thrashed and punched at the inside of the sphere but couldn't seem to get out.
Time sped up again, and two figures emerged from the treeline.
They stood on the opposite side of the lake from the rock.
Both women were dressed in odd black tunics.
One who had tightly coiled brown hair held an axe, the other, who had black hair cropped to her chin and looked familiar, held a long staff.
They exchanged words before the woman with the axe summoned a long rope made of silver light.
With a flick of her wrist, the lasso of silver light whipped out and wrapped itself around the orb of water that still hovered above the lake. The woman with the axe gritted her teeth as she pulled with all her might to move the ball of water.
While she focused on this, the other woman, the one with cropped hair, scanned the area. Her eyes seemed to skip over my sleeping form completely, as if she hadn't seen it.
A soundless gasp escaped my mouth as I flew through the air, my vantage point of the scene shifting. I now hovered only a few feet from the two women, but like with my younger self, they didn't seem to notice me.
From the new position, I could see the entire area where I had collapsed was engulfed by shadows.
My body was nowhere to be seen. The other woman still wrestled with moving the ball.
As she gave the lasso of silver light one final tug, the ball of water evaporated, and the large figure that had been stuck inside hit the water with a splash.
Both women's faces were completely in awe of what they saw.
And for a long moment, I worried that the figure who'd fallen in wouldn't come back up for air.
But then bubbles emerged on top of the water, a blue iridescent tail like that of a fish, but much, much larger, broke the surface of the water before diving back down again.
Whoever was trying to pull me back from the dead was really getting on my fucking nerves.
I just wanted to be left alone. To go back to sleep and be left to dream as I hovered over a lake.
Maybe I'd been reincarnated into a tree or some kind of bird. Whatever it was, it was better than being dragged back to reality.
Non, Non. Come back to me. You can't leave. Please, the silence is agonizing. Your eyes, I need to see your eyes one final time. I haven't had a chance to savour them yet. Open them, cariad, please. Let me see them once more. I am lost without you, Non. Cariad, please…come back to me.
When I eventually opened my eyes, I was met with darkness. For a while, I just lay there, staring into the nothingness, but as my senses adjusted, the overwhelming smell of burning lavender filled my nose.
Turning my head felt like moving lead. To my right was a small bedside table topped with a fat black candle that dripped wax as it burned.
My body felt like it had been put through a meat grinder a couple of times. Getting out of bed certainly wasn't going to be an option.
I scanned my surroundings and saw a large burning hearth beyond the foot of the bed, a cast iron pot hung above it with a bubbling liquid inside.
The stone walls were lined with uneven shelves. Each was packed with jars, trinkets, and odd figurines.
In the far-right corner was a lattice window, underneath sat a thick wooden worktable covered in chopped herbs and a large steel butcher’s knife.
If I'd been any less lucid, I would have sworn I was waking up in the cottage of an old hag from a fairytale.
A cough from the left of my bed made me jump out of my skin. I winced as a painful tug pulled within my abdomen.
“You're awake,” a voice croaked.
I looked over to see Zenn sitting in a large wooden rocking chair by the side of my bed. He shot up as if he'd been sleeping in the chair and removed his boots from where they were perched on the edge of the mattress.
“Where am I?” I asked as Zenn stared at me in silence, like he almost couldn't believe I was talking.
He stood from his chair, toppling it over as he rushed for the wooden door next to the window.
“I need to go tell—just don't go anywhere until I'm back, okay?”
I nodded to my bandaged body. “Couldn't if I tried.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line before rushing out the door. The whole house seemed to shake as he slammed the door shut.
Pushing up to a sitting position was about as much as I could manage. As I waited in silence for Zenn to return, I took the time to assess what I could and couldn't move.
My fingers and toes seemed to all be intact, and I was able to wiggle them. Moving my arms was more painful; I could just about manage to lift them a few inches off the bed.
My legs were a whole other story. Any attempt at lifting or even moving them was agony.
As I was adjusting the covers, the door burst open.
Zenn and Dylan both tried to walk in at the same time, but the narrowness of the door frame and the sheer size of the two of them meant they both got stuck halfway.
They shoved at each other like small children would while fighting to get the most attention. Dylan placed his palm on Zenn's shoulder and grumbled something that sounded like “I'm your Ail, don't make me pull rank”.
Zenn, who always seemed to wear a mask of annoyance, looked even more furious than when he’d left. But he took a step back and allowed Dylan to pass through the door.
Dylan dropped to his knees by the side of my bed and took my bandaged hand in his. With his other hand, he hooked a strand of my hair around his finger. He pulled in a breath to speak, but, as he did, a small figure burst through the doorway, shoving Zenn aside with force.
“Allan o’r ffordd! Bechgyn twp!”
My Welsh was far from fluent, but I did know a few phrases here and there. From what I could gather, she'd just told Zenn to move out of the way. And that both Zenn and Dylan were idiots.
Who was this queen?
The woman, who made Auntie Glad seem tall, hobbled into the room. Her hair was a mess of curls and tangles. I thought I even saw a sprig of something sticking out of it. Its colour was a mix of silver and powder blue, and it hung past her elbows.
In one hand, she held a short staff made of twisting vines and gnarled roots. On top sat a shard of what looked like slate. Her knuckles were covered in blue tattoos of various symbols and shapes. She studied me closely as Dylan broke the silence.
“I'm sorry I wasn't here when you woke. I left for only a few hours to shower and eat. Zenn was given strict instructions to come find me if you did.”
When I studied Dylan's face more closely, I could see the prominent bags under his eyes. His cheeks looked sunken, and there was that greyish tinge to his skin.
He looked like he hadn't slept in days—weeks, even. And the off colour to his complexion was similar to how he looked the few times he'd had a funny turn while outside Llwyn Onn and at the Cyngor Blaen's dinner.
The blue-haired woman shuffled to his side, her many pendants of bones and crystals clattering as she moved.
“Feeling better?” she croaked.
I looked from her to Dylan, unsure how to answer her question. Truly, I felt absolutely terrible, but something about this woman told me she wouldn't have taken kindly to that answer.
“I've felt worse,” I eventually answered.
“Have you now?” She lifted her staff, placing the stone end under my chin. The sharp end bit into my chin as she tilted it upward and studied both sides with narrowed eyes. “But better than you did when you were dying?”
Dylan flinched at her words.
“Dying?” But as the words left my mouth, I was reminded of how I felt absolute peace as I watched over the scene at the lake.
”Dying, major organ failure, lack of oxygen to your brain. Semantics.” The old lady shrugged.
“All that happened to me?”
Dylan nodded gravely.
“Oh, and not to forget the three blood transfusions.”
Shit. Had the Cyhyraeth done that to me?
As if he could read my thoughts, Dylan cleared his throat. “I'll explain as much as I can, but I think it's best we get some food down you along with some tea first.” He turned to the old lady. “Hefina, could you sort something to eat for Non?”
Hefina stiffened and turned her murderous gaze to Dylan.
“I am a High Healer, bachgen bach, not a pissing scullery maid.”