The Cliffs of Despair

The Cliffs of Despair

Blood ran down Tomoë’s fingers. It was a deep red blood that thinned under the heavy rain of the storm. Tomoë looked down at her hand holding her side, seeing her life essence turning into pinkish water before being washed away from her broken chainmail. She gulped and held in tears of pain.

In front of her laid a narrow stairway carved into the side of a cliff, which descended to a beach of flat stones. The path seemed to wobble in front of her as the strong winds shoved her against the stone wall. She heard the waves thundering against the doom of the cliffs, drowning out all other noises—even the sound of her own harsh, erratic breath.

The rocks were wet and slippery. Each step took careful, painful effort, and time seemed to stretch with the pain. Her legs trembled beneath her. Yet, step by step, she moved down the stairs. Then, without warning, her foot gave way and her whole body flew down the final flight of stairs.

She crashed onto the beach, and felt the gash in her side rip open. Blood gushed out, tinting the pebbles and sand. She moaned, half-alive, and rolled to her side. There she saw in front of her a standing stone, with a name etched on its polished surface. A gravestone. Another stood behind this one, and another, and another.

She shoved her fists against the sand—shifting her weight forward to get back on her knees. Then, with much effort, she lifted one leg and placed her foot down, before springing up in one desperate surge. She stumbled forward and caught herself on the post of the graveyard’s gate. She pushed open the gate and slipped through.

The graveyard stretched around coves and nooks, battered by the wind and the waves. Some graves stood high on rocks like the distant silhouettes of strange men while others were already swallowed by the sea. Tomoë limped towards the precipice. There a lonely flower tree had grown twisted by the bitterness of sea-salt. Beneath its branches stood a woman hunched over a grave.

Tomoë called to her; her own voice sounded weak and distant. “Help me please,” she said.

The figure slowly turned. She wore a black gossamer dress that revealed blueish shoulders and arms, and a slimy skin—like a fish. Her face was illuminated by the blue flame lamp she held. A shark-like grin stretched across her lips. “What help might I be to you, O daughter of Varilë?”

“You… know me.” Tomoë looked down at her hand holding her side. It was red. “I’m dying.”

“Who doesn’t know you?” she replied, holding her toothy grin. “I can save you, but it’s going to cost you.”

“Cost?”

“Your firstborn child.”

Tomoë fell down on one knee. “What? Why? That’s… silly.”

“I’ll settle for your left arm,” the sea-witch said.

Tomoë made no reply.

“Or every one of your golden hairs.”

Tomoë collapsed on the ground. The sea-witch stared at the inanimate body at her feet. “No price, no boon.” She started to walk away, before slowly coming down to a stop. She looked back at the body and sighed, “I guess you’ll owe me.”

***

Tomoë was asleep, and heard a whisper as if in a dream. The stench of dead fish assaulted her senses. Then, she felt someone staring at her for what seemed like an eternity, followed by a thick, slimy substance being forced down her throat. She felt like throwing up, but found herself unable to.

Darkness took her again, and in the dark, she heard the sea-witch speaking in a harsh whisper. “Where did you get this wound?” she asked.

A deeper, older voice replied, “A woman showing the clear signs of godhood gave it to me. They don’t want us on their land, whatever they say.”

“Did you kill her?”

“She surprised me, but I landed a good hit. She probably bled to death up on the cliffs by now.”

“No. She hasn’t. I saved her…” the sea-witch said.

“You what?”

“I can’t believe she’d try to attack us and then DARE ask me for help. I should’ve left her to die…”

“If she’s here, we just have to kill her.”

There was a pause, and Tomoë felt like she was being stared at again. She tried to move, to wake up, but failed.

“No,” the voice of the sea-witch replied. “She’s a guest in my home now. I’ll obey the ancient laws and wait for her side of the story before making my judgement.”

The other voice laughed unpleasantly. “She’ll just lie to you. You know how these gods are.”

“She’s demi-god,” the sea-witch said decisively, as though they had talked about this before.

“Still, they’ll come for her and blame us all for what happened.”

“Do you not recognize her? She’s Lady Tomoë. They’ll never come for her.”

“But her father?”

“He’s too busy. You know this. Anyway, no one needs to know a thing about what happened here...”

The voices drifted away, and Tomoë found herself alone in darkness once again. They’ll never come for her. No one ever did, nor would she want them to. She saw her father arguing with formless figures around a great stone table. She wanted to say something to him, but space stretched so as to always keep her outside the hall where dogs blacker than night sat unmoving in dreamlike shadows.

A sense of foreboding came over her and she woke from the dream. A quilt and many layers of soft sheets were tucked in tightly around her. She felt the sheets folding against her body like the pages of a love letter, and the fear that had woken her suddenly seemed like a far and distant memory.

She stretched her legs and felt a sharp pain at her side, recalling the events of the night. How long had she slept? She opened one eye and realized the strangeness of her room. It looked like a cave, yet great care had been put in the carving of it. Her bedside table was stalagmite, and a fireplace had been built beneath draperies of limestone in the opposite corner. Natural elements were juxtaposed with all the amenities expected of a palace bedroom, without ever seeming out of place.

Tomoë touched her side, and saw that it was bandaged and almost healed. Fomorian magic, she thought. She slid out of the covers, and noticed that clothes had been left on the foot of the bed. There was a long flowing white dress stitched with blue diamonds, and a white sash to hold the waist. Next to it laid golden bracers, necklaces, rings, and earrings—all holding precious gems. She giggled at the wealth of it—without really knowing why—and put them all on in fear to offend.

She wandered out of the room and into small, dank corridors that smelled like sea salt. Grabbing a magical lantern hooked to the side of her door, she advanced into darkness, following a strange sour scent that seemed to emanate from deeper within the caves. The stench of rotten fish and vinegar filled her nose, choking her the deeper she got into the tunnel. The terrible smell seemed to recall a dream to her mind, yet she couldn’t quite remember what it had been about.

Just as she was about to turn back, she saw the tunnel opening up in front of her. She hesitated, but the curiosity to see the worst of her new residence got the better of her. She peeked inside and there, to her surprise, was a great cavern filled with piles of shiny coins and gems; it was as rich as any dragon’s hoard. At the center of it laid a large bed surrounded by cups half-filled with stale, moldy wine and plates holding the remains of dead fish—some poking from under the gold. 

Tomoë moved towards the bed, wondering who could be sleeping in such a disgusting place, and saw Arimë, her host, lying there on her back. Her visage had loosened since last night, and now seemed much more innocent. She had black hair that fell around her face like a great shadowy halo or the many tentacles of a jellyfish in deep water. Her skin had the qualities of pearls; it was not entirely white, but rather held all the deep shades of the sea, with an iridescent shine that culminated at the lips. Tomoë couldn’t help but stare at her in awe.

There was something offensive to her in the surrender of such treasure and beauty to such unfathomable negligence. Her own room had been clean, she thought. Why can’t she do the same for herself? Here, preciousness was simply turned to waste. She looked around and formulated a quick plan to fix the issue. She poked at Arimë’s shoulder, “Thank you for saving me.”

Arimë groaned, “I’m sleeping. Go away.”

“Yes. Can I just… clean your room while you sleep?”

She turned to the side, holding her sheet tightly around her. “Just let me sleep,” she replied.

Tomoë smiled and retreated back down the pile of gold, picking up dirty plates as she went. She wasn’t sure if Arimë had heard her right, but she’d rather not disturb her again for this. She’d wake up to a nice clean room!

It took her the better part of an hour to bring all the dirty wares outside, then she threw away the rotten food (and had to fight some enlarged flies for it), before rinsing them all in the sea. With ash and water, she made black soap and scrubbed the plates clean until they shone like small golden suns. She scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed—as the pile of dishes grew to be almost as tall as her.

She finished cleaning the cutlery and sat down on the beach. A sense of satisfaction and purpose filled her as her eyes were drawn by the revived shine of the precious metals. Her mind started to think about all the other chores she could do in that room when Arimë’s voice suddenly interrupted her. “If you believe you can get away from having to pay me back by doing this, you’re very wrong,” she said. “I’m not that easily manipulated, god-daughter.”

“You really believe this is why I’m doing this?” Tomoë asked as she turned to look at her.

“Yes.” she replied.

“There’s no point trying to convince you then. They feel thankful at least,” she said pointing at the shiny dishes, “as I did when you helped me.” Tomoë began to stand up, but last night’s pain returned to her side. She clenched her teeth and pushed through annoyedly. “I’ll give you my hair or my left-arm if that’s what you want, but know that it’ll be reluctantly. I’d much rather give you something of my own, than have something taken from me.”

“And what could you possibly give me?”

“There’s a lot more cleaning to be done in that room of yours. You have so many clothes, and they’re all scattered around. That’s without mentioning all the coins, trinkets, and jewelry that could be neatly arranged in whatever order you want them to be. I don’t want to upset your way of life, but you were so considerate in the room you gave me that I can only imagine you’d appreciate the same for yourself.”

“I was already planning on cleaning my room tomorrow. I don’t need you for that.”

“I don’t doubt that’s true. But it’d be much faster if I helped you, and much more fun.”

Arimë scoffed. “Fine, we can clean the room. But first tell me what attacked you last night.”

“I don’t remember much from last night. Do you have any ideas?” she asked, as seriously as she could.

“I don’t,” she replied, looking away. “But I’ve heard reports that you’ve been causing trouble uplands.”

“Trouble?” It took Tomoë everything to show real worry. “I’m so sorry if I did. I do remember talking to someone and getting quite upset, maybe more upset than I should’ve. Do you know why? That would help a lot.”

“I don’t know. But I appreciate you feeling remorseful. The situation might still demand reparations, however.”

Tomoë nodded. “I’d be happy to offer payment to whoever I caused trouble to, and even wergilds if I hurt anyone without cause.”

Arimë nodded, looking satisfied, and they moved back together into her room. Tomoë asked her what she wanted to clean first, and she decided on the laundry, which would take them the most amount of time. She brought out some big baskets and they began to gather every article scattered around the cave.

Tomoë pushed off the gold coins that lay on top of a dress she considered particularly ridiculous, and held it up to Arimë. “What is THAT?” she asked, giggling.

Arimë swatted it away. “Some suitor gave it to me,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “I think we can burn that one.”

“A suitor mhmm? Do you get those often here?”

“I used to. Most of this gold is from them,” she said kicking a nearby pile. “Less nowadays. Your people’s hatred for mine seems to have seeped into everyone.”

“We don’t hate you,” Tomoë replied, frowning. “I don’t hate you, and I’d hate to learn that you think that of me.”

“No, you probably don’t. But you have to agree that some gods hate the Fomoires, and half-gods even more. No matter the kind.”

“Some do. But it has nothing to do with my people as a whole. Some Fomoires hate the gods, but I don’t assume every Fomoire I meet hates me. That’d be terrible.”

“I don’t either, but people definitely seek me out less than they used to. You’re the first to come to these parts in a while.”

“Well, maybe it’s because you’re a bit grumpy sometimes? The first thing you asked of me is my first born child, Arimë. Put a smile on that face and you’ll have more friends around than you know what to do with them.”

She scoffed. “I’m not grumpy. Now, stop speaking nonsense and take this,” she handed Tomoë a basket now filled to the brim with laundry, “and go work for me.”

“Nice people usually say please,” Tomoë said as she grabbed the basket.

“Well, I’m not nice. Shoo now. I have soap to make.”

Arimë looked on as Tomoë smiled and exited the room. The smile is honest, but there is something else hiding in the eyes, she thought. A sadness of sorts. A weight like a river stone. Is this what betrayal looks like? She stared at where Tomoë had stood just a moment ago. Why do I hope for it to be something else?

Tomoë wandered outside near the seaside graveyard, and went up the same steps that had brought her there, bloody and dying. Up on the ridge, she found a nice, sunny spot next to a stream of clear water that ended in a waterfall flowing into the sea. There were some large flat rocks, warmed by the sun such that one could lay on top and nap, and enough trees to be protected from the wind.

She set up the tubs, and started by rinsing the clothes, then rubbed the stains out before rinsing them again and putting them up to dry in the sun. Arimë joined her shortly after, carrying a bucket of white soap that smelled like violet and lavender. They worked and chatted idly as the sun flew above their heads and the clotheslines were filled one by one, extending over the cliffs like a great field of fabrics.

Once their tiresome task was done, Arimë went and came back with wine and a lunch of bread, olives, figs, and cheese with a drizzle of honey. Tomoë hadn’t eaten all day and ate all she could, under Arimë’s keen and amused eyes.

Then they took off the laundry and brought it back inside the caves where they folded it carefully and placed it in chests and closets, using the occasion to put some order in the rest of her room. The floor was swept; the shelves were dusted; the books were indexed; and the coins were stacked.

As Tomoë went through a rather large chest that had been buried in coins next to the bed, she found her chainmail and her two swords. She looked over her shoulder and saw Arimë sitting cross-legged in front of a box, deep at work organizing and discarding what she didn’t want anymore. She hadn’t noticed her. 

Her fingers touched the silver linings of her scabbards, the cold steel and the power within. She felt the divide of war and moved her hand back, closing the chest. It could wait for a moment more. She stood up and went to help Arimë.

It didn’t take them long to finish, and they found themselves in a completely different room than the one in the morning. Negligence was gone, leaving only beauty all around. They lit a fire in the now cleared hearth of the room, and sat down exhausted in expensive chairs, wrapping themselves in gentle blankets smelling softly of lavender.

“Are you leaving tomorrow?” Arimë asked.

“I don’t think so. My wound still hurts sometimes. And I think it’d be fun to spend more time with you. I don’t want to intrude though.”

“No,” Arimë replied, almost too fast. “You’re not intruding.”

“What should we do tomorrow?”

“We could do some baking. There’s an old oven in one of those caves.”

“That’d be fun,” Tomoë said as her eyelids started to grow heavy. Arimë kept talking, but the words lost their meaning. She felt her blanket being tucked in tightly around her as she fell into a deep sleep.

When she woke up, the flames had died down to embers, and Arimë was gone. It’d been a couple of hours at least. She heard the echo of hushed voices arguing down the tunnels of the cave. Tomoë stood up, and snuck closer to hear what the voices were saying:

She heard Arimë’s voice first, sounding annoyed. “She agreed to pay you a wergild; it’s fine.”

“The wergild? It’s not only about that, dear niece. Did she even tell you why she came here? I went back and found this missive in her camp. It’s from the war-king Varilë, and it’s addressed to the Peninsula Lords, saying that he dispatched a knight, Lady Tomoë, his own daughter, to deal with their sea-monster problems.”

“Let me see,” she said, and there was the sound of snatched paper, followed by a pause. “So it is betrayal,” Arimë said, suddenly sounding much like her aunt.

“I told you so. The gods are never to be trusted. Liars, liars all. Can we kill her now?”

“No, we’re not going to kill her like that. She’s still my guest. I’ll confront her with this, and sentence her to death as it is my power as Lady of the Cove.”

There was a sound of disgust. “These are not even our laws. We don’t need to obey them. You’re from the Sea, like me. The Sea has other laws.”

“They’re my laws. I choose to follow them because I agree with them. Not because of my blood.”

“I hate it when you become self-righteous. You’re so naive. One day you’ll learn that your enemies don’t follow laws—not even their own. They’ll betray you, and you’ll be lucky if you survive that lesson.”

“I know my enemies don’t follow laws. That’s why they’re my enemies. Now hide somewhere. I want to confront her on my own first,” said Arimë.

Tomoë backed off and made her way to the chest where her swords had been hidden. She picked up her belt and tied it around her waist, sliding her two scabbards into it, just as she heard Arimë enter the room behind her.

“So it’s true?” Arimë asked, obviously surprised to see her awake. “You’re here to kill us. You just pretended to like me for a whole day, while you waited for the right moment to slit my throat, you monster? How can you smile and lie like this? I don’t know what I expected from a god.”

“I thought I was only a half-god?” Tomoë replied coldly. “Funny how nuances vanish for your enemies.”

“You’re no different from them,” Arimë said.

“Who is them? I’m one person, Arimë. I’m so tired of having to explain everything to everyone, and having to do it with a smile unless it breaks your mind. You live in a world where my father, the poet-king, is called the war-king. How am I even supposed to argue against that? Where do I start? You’ve allowed your mind to be poisoned by people who can’t admit they’ve done wrong. I’ve had to be so careful with everything I said so that it didn’t trigger one of her lies. Your aunt joined King Balor in his war of aggression, thinking that we wouldn’t intervene, and she lost everything because of it. Not because of us. Even her sister rejected her endless pivoting; her vortex of lies that saves her from admitting both defeat and responsibility.” Tomoë paused and stared at her. “I like you, Arimë. And every god loved your mother. The only lie I told you was that I didn't remember what attacked me. You aunt attacked me, but you knew this already even though you wouldn’t admit it to yourself. If you want to know, I met her on the road and asked her to lead me to you, and when I turned my back to her, she planted her claws in my side and tried to bite my head off. And I’m not the only person she has done this to.”

“What about this missive? You were already sent to kill her.”

“That’s not what it says. There are witnesses that a sea creature has been attacking nearby villages, travelers, and merchants for months now. I’m here to investigate, which is why I wanted to talk to you before your aunt attacked me.”

“You could just be lying again. She says that you’re the one who attacked her first. Why should I trust what you have to say?”

“I don’t care if you believe me or not. I’d like to continue being friends, but my main concern is that your aunt doesn’t kill people again. If I was sent to kill you, I could just as well do that right now if I wanted to. Why would I be speaking to you? You’re not that important. You’ve convinced your mind that some great scheme is at hand, but reality is much simpler.”

“It’s just retribution for what she did in the war,” Arimë replied, sounding unconvinced by her own words.

“Why would we wait decades to get revenge on her?”

Arimë looked down, before desperately gesturing to the piles of gold around her. “Can’t I pay a wergild for the harm that she’s done? I can do work if gold is not enough.”

“You’re kind, but you know wergilds need to be meant and offered by the perpetrator,” Tomoë said gently. “You can’t do this for her.”

The tunnel behind Arimë darkened, and a large shadow stretched out across the floor until it loomed over her. A bony and clawlike hand grabbed the side of the cave’s entrance, before pulling through a bloated body and face upon which two yellow eyes burned. A nasty scar, whose sight brought a cruel pleasure to Tomoë, cut from her shoulder to her neck.

 Tomoë felt the curse of her glare, shaping her to be the hateful and cruel god of the aunt’s dark dreams. Tomoë’s fingers gripped the pommel of her sword tightly and her jaw hardened. She had to be punished for what she’d done. No one would miss a monster like that, and even if they did, they would still be better off with her dead.

“You are important, my dear,” the aunt told Arimë. “Silence is where they rule, and they will hunt anyone who breaks it.”

Tomoë took a breath, distancing herself from the curse, and thought deeply about her beliefs; distinguishing what she knew; from what she was unsure of; from what she didn’t know. The three pillars of truth that held her will firmly in place. One goes and the structure falls. She moved to the side, circling around her to make sure her back would be against a wall.

The yellow glare followed her, moving away from Arimë. Tomoë cut her off, before she could speak. “You’re the one who hunted your own sister when she left you for us. You know you could’ve joined her with us, yet your own importance couldn’t let you admit that she was right to reject King Balor’s unlawful war.”

“You captured her and locked her up, you liar.”

Tomoë shook her head. “No. She chose the truth and locked you out, once you became hateful—even to her. But she wouldn’t have wanted you to be locked out from her forever. Just engage with reality like you used to. Remember how it was before the war, and let go of your dark dream.”

Arimë’s aunt gnarled as her clawed hand lunged for Tomoë. A flash of steel drew a thin mist of blood from it, just as a second hand came swinging from the other side. Tomoë barely had enough time to duck beneath it and stand back up, just as the toothy maw of the creature fell upon her. She shoved her sword against the many rows of teeth, just as its two long fangs tried to close in around her head. Tomoë reached for the top of the blade with her other hand, and slid it across the maw, cutting deeply into the slimy flesh. 

Black venom fell onto Tomoë’s fingers, burning them with a sizzle as Arimë’s aunt cried out and slithered back across the cave’s floor. Tomoë gritted her teeth just as the yellow glare fell upon her again. She dashed towards the weakened creature, now hurried forth by a cold anger, and slashed at its arms and sides, cutting into its flesh, just as one would cut an eel. Arimë’s aunt fell back, trying to swat her, but Tomoë was faster and played with her, making sure that every blow bled her instead of killing her.

“Your people haven’t improved in battle since the war, have they?” said Tomoë. “Still sluggish and uninspired.” Arimë’s aunt raised her hand in front of her face; her yellow eyes still shone between her fingers. Tomoë cranked her arm back and swung at her hand as with an axe. The blade sliced through the top fingers, and Arimë’s aunt cringed in pain. “Perhaps, next time, you might consider your actions beforehand, you wretch. Is your mind still able of thinking, or has it rotten entirely?”

There was no answer—only unblinking yellow eyes staring at her.

“You were so full of words but a moment ago. What happened? Have you suddenly been struck by your own stupidity and finally decided to spare us? Thank the gods! I’ll make sure you stick to it and never waste my time ever again,” Tomoë hissed, as she raised her sword above her head.

“Wait!” Arimë cried out.

Tomoë turned to look at her and instantly realized her mistake. She had played into the aunt’s spell. Her eyes widened in horror as she dropped her sword, and reached for her magic sword instead, hoping to counteract the curse.

The yellow eyes gleamed with delight as Arimë’s aunt snapped at her—her fish-like body wriggling behind her as it threw itself at Tomoë, shoving her to the ground. Her venomous fangs sank deeply into Tomoë’s shoulder as she cried, now crushed against the stone. She struggled and tried to free her magic sword, but it was now stuck, half-unsheathed, beneath her. Tomoë could see the light emanating from the blade on the edge of her vision, but the world in front of her was eclipsed in darkness. Teeth of shadows tore at her flesh as the weight of the aunt crushed her lungs, and made it impossible to breathe. 

She felt around with her other hand and found the steel handle of her sword. Her fingers dragged it closer and grasped it firmly, before bringing the blade down against the aunt’s skull. There was a loud crack and the fangs in her shoulder twitched before falling still. Then, silence. Blood and brain dripped on Tomoë’s face as she pushed the body off of her, and in the light of the moonblade, she saw the pale visage of Arimë’s aunt. She bore the same proud eyebrows as Arimë’s, and eyes that were just as keen and deep. The arch of her face was fair, and in the light, her skin had the same glittering tone. She was just as much a princess of the ocean’s floor, and now lay dead; her face turned to horror on the stone. Tomoë stared at her, unable to avert her gaze as the room around her darkened and dreams took her far away, back to home…

Tomoë woke up and found herself lying in the familiar bed of Arimë’s guest bedroom. At first she questioned if the whole thing had been a dream, but as she looked around, she saw Arimë sitting on the foot of the bed, staring at her wistfully, and knew by the look in her eye that it hadn’t been. In her face, she recalled the ghastly head on the ground, beautiful and dead. She tried to sit up, but noticed that her arm still felt cold, almost icy, despite the soothing warmth of the fireplace burning in the corner.

“Your arm will need a few more days. The venom was harder to treat than I thought,” Arimë said, as though she had read her mind.

“Why did you save me?” Tomoë asked.

“I wanted to. I don’t think you meant us any harm, despite what happened. I’m well aware of the powers of Fomorian eyes,” she said with a sad smile, as she gently placed her hand over Tomoë’s arm.

“That’s no excuse,” Tomoë replied. “There needs to be some truth to it for a spell like this to work as it did.”

“I know. But you did fine. You turned when I called.”

Tomoë sighed and looked down, feeling her lower lip trembling. “Could you heal her?” she asked.

Arimë shook her head. “There was nothing to be done with her.”

“Why aren’t you mad at me? If I had done things right, she might be alive… and redeemed.”

“I wish she was alive, but I’m not sure you could’ve saved her, Tomoë. I didn’t even realize you thought you could. You didn’t know her as I did. She sought this out.”

“I didn’t even try. I tried to hurt her from the start.”

“Then perhaps you made a mistake. I made plenty of mistakes too. Be upset at yourself, and I’ll be upset at myself. You’ll chastise yourself well enough for me, I’m sure. But you were kind enough to show me a way out. That’s what I’d rather celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

“Yes. You’ve shown me a world without shadowy shapes, and dark clouds hanging. A world that is as it looks. That’s worth celebrating. And in your condition, I’ll be stuck with you for at least a week. So close your eyes and rest here for a bit longer; we’ll bake some pies when you wake up.”