“That explains why I was so hungry.” And no wonder that they’d left Goibhniu’s taproom. He would have told them to bugger off eventually and promised to let them know if I showed up.
<If you’re still hungry, I could totally help you eat something.>
“I want to know where you went,” Granuaile said, helping me hop through the cabin door, “but first tell me what you need.”
My eyes welled a bit, a harbinger of impending schmaltz. I did my best to control it and said, “Actually, I think I’m all right. Or I will be. I’m glad you’re here. We’re safe now.”
“We are?”
“Well, for a little while, yeah. Still up for Japan?”
“Are you?”
“It’s as good a place to heal as any.”
Chapter 30
We spent five days in Japan, not being hunted. It was blissful—or at least as blissful as five days could be when you’re waiting around for your muscles to rebuild. We weren’t bothered by vampires or dark elves or Fae, giving additional weight to my theory that our mysterious enemy in Tír na nÓg had been using Old Ways to ferry assassins around. And it was there, on the third day, in a rock garden with a fountain gurgling the eternal poetry of the elements, that I found time to tell Granuaile what had truly happened with the Morrigan, how she had discovered the limits of godhood and had chosen to slough them off; how she had kept her word and found a way for us to survive while giving the middle finger to convention, which said she could behave only in prescribed fashions; and how she had never truly been defeated.
On the fourth day, after I appeared to be at least cosmetically okay, I summoned the west wind using Fragarach. Shortly thereafter we were paid a visit by Hermes, who informed us that Bacchus was under control and that all the Olympians would swear to leave us alone, whenever I was free to hear their oath. Both Flidais and Perun had survived their fit of madness, and Flidais had pledged herself to find some way to restore or replace Herne’s hunters. In nautical news, Poseidon and Neptune had reached out to Manannan Mac Lir in a new spirit of brotherhood to search the sea together for Jörmungandr, in hopes of giving us an advantage before the onset of Ragnarok.
That was so hopeful and so much better than the way things could have turned out that I allowed myself to feel a smidgen of hope. Yes, Loki and Hel were probably plotting some intensely evil shit now where we couldn’t get to them, hiding themselves from the eye of Odin, but it wasn’t just me trying to fill Thor’s shoes anymore. The Olympians could be counted on to jump in with gusto.
Aside from that visit, we spent our days either in Zen-like calm in natural surroundings, healing and relaxing, or else baffled by Japanese television at night, which offered more “what the fuck?” per hour than anything in the United States.
“I don’t understand a word they’re saying, but I can’t look away,” Granuaile said as we lounged in a very tiny hotel room on the fifth day, a Tuesday morning. There was space to sleep and little else. “What are they going to do with that badger and the shaving cream?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, shaking my head. Even though I could speak Japanese, I didn’t quite understand what the two fast-talking young men in skinny jeans and Muppet T-shirts intended. “Something crazy.”
“Forget French. I need to learn Japanese next.”
Oberon yawned at the foot of the bed and said, <If I can’t quote it later, I don’t want to watch it. Atticus, let’s go walking in the forest. That mountain where we shifted in looked pretty nice. We can be hounds, and Granuaile can practice being a cat without too many smelly things to bother her.>
I blinked repeatedly to break the spell of the show. “Oberon’s right. We need to get out of here.”
<There are trees to pee on and tiny animals to chase!>
Granuaile’s eyes hadn’t moved from the TV screen. “Wait, what’s happening? Is that a baby? That’s a baby! Atticus, what the fuck are they doing with a baby?”
“Come on, let’s go.” I thumbed the power switch, and Granuaile flinched as the picture winked out.
“No! They had a badger and a baby! I need to know what happens!”
“Listen to yourself. It’s already happened and it’s pointless. We have more important things to do.”
<The aforementioned trees and tiny animals!>
“What Oberon said,” I agreed. “You’re all healed now, and I’m probably eighty percent. Let’s get some exercise.”
We escaped our cubicle room, checked out, and fled Tokyo for Mount Fuji, hiking along one of several well-trod paths to the summit. Though there were plenty of other hikers making the trek with us, birdsong wafted amongst the leaves of maple and beech trees in the broadleaf zone near the base, and we discovered that we were smiling without knowing precisely why. Oberon’s tail wagged and his tongue drooped out to the side as he loped alongside and occasionally paused to sniff something next to the trail.
We climbed all the way to the top, thinking we could use a stunning vista to banish the effects of ultra-urban Tokyo. The trees thinned out after a while, then disappeared altogether, leaving a rocky ascent to the summit. Once we were there, a stone post carved with kanji informed us that we had made it to the top, as if we could not figure it out from the fact that there was no more mountain to climb. But that post made me drop my jaw anyway.
Granuaile noticed. “Atticus, what is it?”
“The Morrigan’s parting gift,” I said. “I forgot about it until now.”
“What? You never mentioned that before.”
“Because I forgot about it. There’s something—or someone—waiting for us on one of the Time Islands in Tír na nÓg.”
“Well, if they’re stuck there, then they can probably just wait longer, can’t they?”
“I’m sure they can. Not so sure about me, though. Aren’t you curious? Who does the Morrigan have stashed away there?”
Granuaile sighed. “We’re going to run downhill and shift away right now, aren’t we?”
“Yep. Well, I’ll kind of limp and stagger instead of run. But we’ll go as fast as we can.”
Granuaile insisted that we take a few moments to enjoy the view first, since we’d spent so long climbing to appreciate it. The Pacific Ocean caressed the green curves of Honshu’s coast and sparkled with reflected sunlight. As long as I didn’t look toward the cities, I could glimpse the Japan of long ago, still dangerous and beautiful, where the serenity of Zen and Shinto always had an edge to it—the blade of a katana or wakizashi, usually. Often only a single person’s will decided whether the day would be washed in blood or the tranquil ink of calligraphy.
We sent messages of love and harmony to the elemental, and then I tried my best to keep my pace dignified as we descended to the broadleaf zone tethered to Tír na nÓg. Once the trees surrounded us again, we took the earliest opportunity to leave the trail and get out of sight before we shifted away.
We chose a specific destination in Tír na nÓg: the tree nearest the home of Manannan Mac Lir, as safe a place as any for us in the land of the Fae. He and Fand welcomed us, feted us, and, once they heard of our intent to visit the Time Islands, offered the use of a singular canoe that would hold its position in a current without the use of an anchor.
“That island is fairly well known,” Manannan said. “I am fascinated to hear that the Morrigan put someone there.”
It was the first time either of us had spoken of the Morrigan. Manannan carefully avoided my eyes, and I could sense that he didn’t want to speak of her death. I respected his wishes and didn’t go there.
“Really?” I said. “What’s so unusual about it? I know it’s way upstream, but I don’t remember seeing anything there when I was young.”