IN THE DEPTHS OF AILLWEE

"There it is," Tonka called out, squinting at the shore. They had veered a little too far westward and needed to return along the coast, heading inland, until she recognized the spot where she had detected the Lycana's tracks.

"There's a jetty over there where we can land," she said.

"If it's deep enough," grumbled the captain. "This isn't a rowboat."

Tonka shot him a look that pierced him to the core. It warned him not to provoke her anger. But what good would it do if he obeyed her and the ship ran aground?

Liam sent Columban to the bow to check the depth. Then he had all sails except for the jib taken down. Slowly, the ship approached the jetty.

"Prepare to heave to! Now!" shouted Columban, and the captain turned the wheel until the ship was alongside the jetty. Fergal and Angus stood ready with the lines and jumped ashore once the ship was close enough. They secured the ropes around the wooden posts.

"Shall we wait here until you return?" the captain inquired. "It would be more inconspicuous for us to anchor further out. You can signal us with a beacon when you're ready to continue the journey."

"I suspect we won't be continuing," said the dark, bear-like passenger they called Piero. His smile didn't sit well with Liam.

"Well, then, let's head back," Angus said. His cheer sounded a bit forced.

"Back to Dublin," Columban repeated softly. He smiled blissfully, thinking of the reward he would bring to his family.

"We won't need you for the return journey," the eerie passenger interjected.

"Your part ends here," added her companion, who resembled her so much that Liam took them for siblings. The other two, who hadn't spoken much during the entire voyage, remained silent.

The captain spoke as calmly as possible: "Very well, then. The journey ends here, and we'll return to port on our own. All that's left is for us to wish you a safe onward journey and to ask for our payment."

Columban, Fergal, and Angus edged closer. Greed reflected in Angus's expression, Columban looked hopeful but also a little fearful, and Fergal's countenance was as simple as ever, though surely he, too, longed for the moment when the eerie passengers would finally disappear. Liam forced himself to lift his gaze. He looked first at Danilo and then at Tonka's face. What he thought he saw in their expressions made his knees weak.

"We've made a contract that you must abide by," he said, extending his hand.

"A contract that we must abide by?" the woman repeated. She stepped closer and ran the long nail of her index finger over the bearded sailor's throat, who needed all his self-control not to flinch. "Every laborer is worthy of their wage," he insisted. "We've safely brought you here on my ship, as you wished."

"But of course! Everyone will receive their fair reward," purred the pale woman. Liam saw Angus smile with relief, but the captain felt sick. He could see it in their eyes. This was their end. Liam opened his mouth. He wanted to shout to the others to get to safety. To jump overboard and swim away. But then the slender fingers with incredibly long claws wrapped around his neck. She pulled him with a strength that couldn't be human. Her gaze seemed to paralyze him.

"Run!" he croaked, then all that came out of his mouth was a groan as her suddenly elongated, razor-sharp fangs sank into his neck. For a moment, his men were petrified, staring only at their captain and the woman holding him like a child, biting into his neck. Columban was the first to react, grabbing a boat hook. He lunged toward his captain to come to his aid, but before he knew it, Danilo had wrested the weapon from him and pounced on him. Angus retreated. Fergal, on the other hand, just stood there, unable to comprehend the horror unfolding before them. Piero put his arm around his shoulder and bit into him. With a desperate leap, Angus threw himself over to the other side of the boat and into the water. Too late, the five vampires looked after the fleeing man. Angus was a good swimmer and an experienced diver. With powerful strokes, he swam along the rocks and out into the open bay. Only when he thought his lungs were about to burst did he shoot to the surface to take a breath. He cast a quick glance back at the ship but wasn't sure if he could make out anyone in the darkness. At least no one had jumped after him. Angus swam on, as fast as he could. He would stay in the water until morning. Perhaps he would find a fishing boat to take him in; otherwise, he would walk as far inland as possible and never return here again.

While Angus swam towards freedom, his captain and his two comrades perished. The vampires surrendered to their bloodlust. It wasn't until the heartbeat began to falter that they paused and released their victims. Before the bodies even hit the planks of the ship's deck, life had left them. Yet their souls were now free, embarking on their journey to another world. Danilo, Tonka, Jovan, Vesna, and Piero jumped ashore, loosened the ropes, and gave the ship a push, causing it to slowly drift out into the bay with its dead cargo. The five turned away, refreshed, and set off to follow the trail of the Lycana.

"We're here!" Ivy announced as the clan leader stopped once more around midnight. She pointed to a narrow opening in the towering rock face before them. "Here is the entrance to the cave. Or rather, to the underground river and its labyrinth of passages that lead miles into the mountain."

"Why have we taken the long journey to come here?" Luciano inquired.

This question seemed to puzzle several of the guests, who looked around with incomprehension. It was Donnchadh who answered them.

"This cleft leads us into the depths of Aillwee," he said with his melodious voice. "The cave has been one of the Lycana's secret retreats for centuries. During the war with the werewolves, it served us well. We have explored it, claimed it, and modified some areas to serve our defense. Here, we are not only safe from unwelcome surprises, but we can also practice what you have all come to Ireland for."

Silence followed his words, interrupted by Anna Christina's shrill voice.

"A dirty, cramped, stinking cave, perpetually pitch black everywhere? And perhaps we have to rest on bare rock? Or should we drag our coffins up the mountain?" Her voice rose to a panicked scream.

"Calm yourself, girl," the clan leader interjected with a strained voice. Alisa sensed that it was difficult for him to maintain composure. Catriona laid her hand on his arm, and he fell silent. Instead, the beautiful servant spoke.

"It's muddy in caves in some places, that's unavoidable. Other parts have been washed by water and polished smooth like polished marble. Some parts of the cave system are very narrow, but there are also dome-like halls! Indeed, deepest darkness reigns in the caves. And that is their greatest advantage for us." She smiled around. "And in more ways than one." Some shook their heads. Alisa, too, couldn't understand why absolute darkness would be good for them. A cloudy night was ideal. With the little scattered light, vampires could still see very far, whereas humans were almost blind without an additional light source.

"As you surely know, no human can move even a meter in a cave without light without immediately losing orientation. Humans depend on lamps and torches and are therefore easily detectable. They cannot approach unnoticed, neither during the day nor at night. Some of our servants have learned to strengthen body and mind so that they can stay awake even after sunrise. Of course, they still have to fear sunlight - but in a cave, they are safe. This way, they can also guard you during your daytime rest and ensure your safety. You might now think that darkness weakens us as well. That is currently the case for you, but it doesn't have to be. Of course, we cannot sharpen our eyes beyond what nature has given us, but we can find other ways. The following exercise will show you how. Well, I think now even the last of you have been inspired to exert themselves, because if you master this task, you will have a significant advantage over the others. Donnchadh will explain it to you." Alisa saw Ivy smiling knowingly.

"You know what she's talking about," she accused.

"But yes. Be patient, you'll find out soon," Ivy replied.

Alisa turned her attention back to Donnchadh and Catriona, not wanting to miss anything. 

"When our eyes no longer serve us, then we must call upon those who can help us!" the clan leader was saying. Catriona spread her fingers as she had done on the sheep pasture, and moments later, a small bat circled her hand.

"We already know that," Luciano said somewhat disappointedly.

"Summoning a bat is the first step," explained Donnchadh. "Some of you should already be able to do that. The crucial thing now is to establish such a close connection with its spirit that it replaces your eyes and allows you to see."

Alisa and Luciano abruptly turned to Ivy, whose head was already surrounded by a bat.

"You can do this already?" Alisa asked, hardly surprised when Ivy nodded. "How wonderful! Then we will soon be able to see everywhere."

"That would have been useful in the Cloaca Maxima," remarked Luciano. "Why didn't you tell us back then?"

"We didn't really need it there. The ground was even and led straight ahead. Besides, it can only work if at least one bat is in the vicinity."

"How far can it be from us?" Franz Leopold inquired.

"That depends on your abilities. The stronger you develop them, the greater the distance over which you can still manage to summon the animal."

"Then can we also send them ahead to fly and peek around corners? Let them search for traps?" Ivy nodded. Luciano was enthusiastic. She raised her hands to dampen his joy a bit.

"Many things are possible, and some of the Lycana are powerful enough to master these abilities, but it's not easy and requires a lot of mental discipline and practice. Summoning an animal is by far the easiest part."

Luciano's excitement faded.

"Well, my friend, too early to rejoice," Franz Leopold said smugly. "I'm afraid you'll bump into projections and stalactites more than once during the nights we spend in the cave labyrinth if you don't move very slowly and carefully."

"No, he won't," Ivy contradicted firmly. "Luciano will learn, just like the rest of you. And I ask you not to address him like that again. It's not friendly and not accurate. Haven't you noticed how he has stretched himself over the past few months?"

Franz Leopold looked at him with a furrowed brow, but before he could retort, Donnchadh waved for them to follow him through the crevice.

"It looks quite comfortable and cozy," remarked Luciano as he knelt down and stared into the dark hole.

"I find it exciting," Alisa's voice came from the darkness.

"Come further. It will soon become more spacious. If I strain, I can make out the outlines of the rocks in front of me." But Luciano hesitated.

"Let me go ahead, then I can take your hand," Ivy suggested, the small bat still buzzing around her head. Mervyn had already summoned half a dozen, which seemed to flutter around him in enthusiastic excitement. Luciano readily made room and let Ivy and Seymour go first. Then he crawled after her.

"You can stand up now," he heard her voice close to his ear. Then her fingers slid into his hand. He flinched as if he had come too close to a lightning bolt. Although her hand was cool, it felt like fire to him.

"Come on, the ground is fairly level here. I'll let you know if you need to watch your step." She was so close to him that he could smell her sweet breath. It was hard for him to breathe calmly. How merciful the darkness was! A terrible thought struck him. Could she see so well with her bat that she could read his facial expressions? Hopefully not!

Luciano felt her presence even before the murmuring voice reached him. "She may not be able to read your face in this darkness, but she can definitely read your thoughts. Did you think you needed light for that? You are and will remain a fool!"

"And you a repulsive guy," Alisa's voice sounded. Franz Leopold groaned.

"Oh, was that your shin? I'm sorry about that. I can't see anything in the darkness."

"Come on," Ivy urged them on, without getting involved in the argument. "We still have a way to go until we reach the hall."

Since Donnchadh and his companions were already quite a way ahead, Alisa left Ivy in charge.

Soon they heard water rushing ahead of them.

"Is that the cave river?" Alisa asked excitedly.

"A part of it. Wait a moment, we're almost there." And they could already feel the damp spray on their skin. The gentle rustle turned into a roar that swallowed up every other sound.

"A waterfall!" Alisa exclaimed, reaching out her hands.

"Yes, it plunges into the hole ahead there. The water disappears into a lower level. The cave system consists of several floors. The upper ones are the oldest and are dry today. The river once dissolved them out of the stone, but eventually it encountered cracks and holes through which it could seep deeper and began to dig a new bed there. Let's continue, our clothes are already soaked."

The cave passage twisted a few times to the right and left, branched off, rose and fell, then suddenly they saw a glimmer of light. At first, Alisa thought the walls were glowing, but then she realized it must be the reflection of lamps or torches.

"Look, our cozy sleeping quarters," said Franz Leopold, who had been silent for so long that Alisa had almost forgotten his presence. The druid hurried down the mountain. It was not the moment to walk awe-inspiringly, staff as a sign of her power in hand. Now it was important not to waste any time. Her two wolves were always a step ahead, searching for the best path and then turning around to wait for them.

"I'm coming already! I know if I didn't hold you back, you would have reached the shore long ago." Tara scolded quietly to herself as the hem of her cloak once again caught on the thorns of a bush.

"Fool," she scolded herself. "You're not a young thing anymore - and not a vampire who can transform into a bat or a griffin. Unfortunately!"

She slowed her pace a bit, as her breath had now turned into a wheeze. For the first time in countless years, she felt like events were slipping out of her control. They slipped through her fingers, and she could only watch helplessly, just like when she lost her children - when they were taken from her by deceit!

Tara stopped and pressed her hand to her aching side. No, it wasn't like back then. She had not only gained in age but, above all, in experience and knowledge, and she would not allow something like that to happen again!

"No, I can't grow wings or swift legs," she said to the two wolves, who looked at her questioningly. "But I can make use of those who were endowed with them by Mother Nature. Come! Let's hope he's not out fishing."

Tara continued until she reached the miserable hut on the shore of Lough Corrib. A man sat on a rough bench in the morning sun, eating a bowl of porridge. On the table, a piece of bread, cheese, and a smoked fish lay on a board. The clay jug next to it presumably contained beer. He nodded silently in greeting.

"You're back already?" Tara asked, trying not to lean too exhaustedly on her staff.

"As you can see, Tirana," the fisherman replied, pushing a piece of bread into his mouth. It was hard for him to chew, with the few teeth he had left.

"How was the catch?"

"As befitting an old man. Do you want to share my breakfast or head out to the island?"

He apparently already knew the answer, as he took the jug in one hand, the bowl and board in the other, and carried them into the hut. "You're in a hurry." It was a statement, not a question, and Tara just nodded.

The old man led the way to the jetty, where his boat was moored on the sparkling water. Tara skillfully jumped on board without taking the offered hand of the old fisherman. The wolves followed her. Even before Tara settled on the narrow rowing bench, the old man had already untied the ropes and set the sail. The fishing boat glided leisurely onto Lough Corrib.

"If you want to go faster, we'd need more wind," he said indifferently, staring into the distance. He didn't even seem surprised when a gust filled the sail, and the boat quickly gained speed. Soon, the island, as the fisherman had simply called it, came into view. Inchagoill lay halfway between Oughterard and Cong in the north of Lough Corrib and had housed monks in the early years of Christianity: hermits and ascetics, of which there were many in Ireland at that time, always searching for the loneliest places for their monasteries and hermitages. Soon they reached the landing place.

"Shall I wait?"

The druid nodded. "Yes, it won't take long."

"And where are you going?"

"To Cong. I'm traveling north."

He didn't ask further but moored his boat and then sat on the wooden rail, waiting for her return.

Tara walked towards the ruins of the monastery, next to which the Romanesque church stood. Fuchsia bushes bloomed luxuriantly between the remnants of walls and on the graveyard, whose graves were still tended. Legends claimed that a nephew of St. Patrick was buried here. But Tara wasn't interested in that. Although the beliefs of the Celts had gradually interwoven with Christianity, she was a representative of the old Druids, who had continued their tradition in secret over the centuries.

A figure in a long white robe emerged from a simple hut, placed a hand on her chest, and bowed deeply.

"Tamara Clíodhna, what joy and honor to greet you."

It gave the druid a slight pang to look at the young woman who had taught her so much of her art and experience. She was wise and of gentle nature, had a quick wit, and felt connected with her spirit and heart to the old faith. She was very pleased with her. Yet, her appearance saddened her. It should have been her daughter with whom she shared her knowledge. The past mingled with the present, and she saw her own child stepping out of the hut again, greeting her, joyfully excited about what there was to learn today. Past and lost. She had not seen the disaster coming, despite her high gifts.

"Are you not feeling well? Would you like to come in and have a herbal mead?" the young woman asked concerned.

Tara shook off the painful memory. Her daughter would have been an old woman by now too. Now she remained forever young!

"No, Isleen, thank you," replied the druid, offering her a smile to dispel the concern, but Isleen had been Tara's student for too long not to sense her tension.

"I'm traveling north, to Dunluce, and I must hurry."

Isleen didn't ask any further questions. "Then I'll fetch Álainn for you."

"Yes, and bring me the eagle too. I need to send a message to Donnchadh."

It didn't take long for Isleen to lead out the white mare. She snorted softly upon seeing the old druid. Isleen let her go. The horse trotted up to Tara, stopping beside her and rubbing her forehead against the woman's shoulder.

"Álainn, the Beautiful, the Divine, shining brightly like the midday sun. We must travel swiftly to the north like the wind." The mare neighed and raised her head, her gaze directed northward across the Lough.

"You've taken good care of her," Tara said, raising her arm to accept the sea eagle. The majestic bird sat there, its gaze unwaveringly fixed on the druid.

"Has one of the falcons arrived?" she asked. Isleen shook her head.

"No, we haven't received any messages from Dunluce."

Tara took hold of the horse's reins.

"When can I expect your return?" Isleen, who followed her with a small bundle in her arms, asked.

"Before the next new moon, if the gods are merciful!"

"Then you truly must ride like the wind, but I'm not worried. I've prepared Álainn for this. She is enduring and strong. She won't disappoint you."

"I know. And perhaps I won't have to ride all the way to Dunluce. I'll send Tapaidh ahead to meet me halfway."

She lifted the bird a bit higher and brought her lips to the ear opening hidden behind the feathers. It blinked twice but seemed to listen attentively. Then Tara raised her arm. The eagle spread its wings and soared into the bright morning air, then shot off towards Cong.

Tara watched it until it disappeared from view, then walked down to the boat jetty, the mare following her.

The old fisherman was still sitting there as she had left him. Now he rose and awkwardly bowed to Isleen.

"We're ready," said the druid, leading the horse on board. Isleen handed her a package.

"I know you're a master of asceticism, but it doesn't hurt to replenish your strength on a strenuous journey."

Tara thanked her. The mare played with her ears but otherwise didn't seem nervous. The fisherman cast off and reached for the oar. A fresh south wind drove them forward, straight toward the small town of Cong, situated on the isthmus between Lough Corrib and Lough Mask. Shortly after, the boat docked in Cong. Tara led the horse ashore and surprisingly agilely mounted the saddle.

"I thank you, Quintin. May the gods favor you. I offer you no more than my blessing, for you would surely reject anything more."

The old man smiled somewhat sadly. "You have done enough. I am proud that my granddaughter is growing up to be the mistress of Inchagoill, and it is reward enough for me to see her from time to time, even if she sees in me only the old fisherman."

"Why don't you tell her you're her grandfather?" The old man shrugged. "She is now a druid and no longer belongs to us ordinary folk. Isleen is a mediator between the Otherworld, nature, and humans. Should she bother with such lowly things as a grandfather who feels the ache in his back and can barely move his fingers in the cold of the morning without pain? No, it is enough for me to see her from afar and to feel the pride in my chest that she is my flesh and blood."

Tara nodded to him once more and then urged the horse into a light gallop. They crossed the lands of Lord Ardilaun, who had built Ashford Castle on the shore of Lough just a few years ago. The brewing business had made the Guinness family immensely rich. As Tara reached the bridge near the monks' fishing house, she reined in the horse and let her walk over the wooden planks. The small house on a rock in the middle of the Cong River had allowed the monks to sit dry while fishing through a hole in the floor even in bad weather. The druid passed the remains of the abbey and monastery, long abandoned. Behind the dry canal, she urged Álainn back into a gallop. It was a monument with which nature showed humans their limits, yet Tara wondered if people were ready to read the signs. The extensive canal with its locks and towpaths looked as though at any moment water would come rushing in to carry steamboats back and forth from Lough Mask to the south and back again. But this canal would continue to harbor only weeds until it eventually decayed and was reclaimed by nature. During the time of the Great Famine in 1848, they had begun digging the canal. It was a program of English poor relief, where bread was only given in exchange for work. It was a miracle that the emaciated, starving farmers had managed to dig out the canal bed at all. Tara didn't know how many had died of exhaustion despite having one warm meal a day. After six years of work, the canal was finished, and the dam to Lough Mask was pierced. But the incoming water never reached Lough Corrib. The porous limestone sucked it into its subsoil, where it disappeared in underground rivers. Had people learned anything from it? The druid doubted it. The times when people heard the voice of nature and were willing to listen to it had long since passed.