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.

“A moment!” said Cormach, and Hafgan stopped mumbling. “He is awake!” He leaned forward. “Eh, Taliesin?”

Taliesin opened his eyes. He was lying on his side with his knees drawn up to his chest. Cormach and Hafgan were standing as he had seen them, only now relief was clearly and largely writ across Hafgan’s face. “Taliesin, I am” he began. Cormach flung out a hand and Hafgan ceased.

“Quickly, lad, how do you feel?”

“I am well,” answered Taliesin. He sat up and crossed his legs.

“Good, good. Can you tell what happened to you?”

Taliesin described the place he had been as well as he could, but for all the vividness of the memory that persisted unabated his tongue tangled again and again over the maddening inadequacy of words to describe it. In the end he simply shrugged, saying, “It was like no other place I have ever seen.”

Cormach nodded kindly. “I know the place, Taliesin, and you describe it well for only having visited once.”

“Is it the Otherworld?” he wondered.

“It is,” affirmed the Chief Druid.

Taliesin thought about this; Hafgan came near and reached out his hand. “Are you thirsty, Taliesin?”

“Do not touch him” Cormach warned. Hafgan withdrew the hand.

“I am fine, Hafgan. Really,” Taliesin insisted.

“Now, Taliesin, I want you to think about what you saw in the Otherworld and tell us about it-even if it makes no sense to you now.”

Taliesin did as he was told and the druids listened, intent on every word. He ended by saying, “And then the Other-world lord came to me and he called me by name and he said he would teach me what to say.”

“And did he?” asked Cormach.

Taliesin nodded uncertainly. “I think so.”

“What did he say?”

Taliesin frowned. “I cannot remember.”

“Is that all?” asked Hafgan fhen.

“Yes,” Taliesin said. “I have told you everything I remember. “

Corrnach nodded, and Hafgan once again extended his hand to help him up. “You have done well, Taliesin. Well indeed.”

The three began walking through the woods to the caer. “But what does it mean?” Taliesin asked.

“It may be that the message was for you alone, Taliesin,” replied Hafgan.

“About the rest of it-the lady in the pool, and the sword and all-what of that?”

The two druids were silent a moment, then Hafgan replied, “A druid does not like to admit that there are things that defy his an-especially when these things are uttered from the mouth of one so young.”

“Are you saying you do not know?” the boy asked.

“He is trying not to say it,” answered Cormach, “but it amounts to the same thing. Yes. we do not know what it means. I tell you frankly, lad, we did not expect your journey to be so long or so complete.” He stopped and took the boy by the shoulders. “Listen, Taliesin, you have been to a place we have only glimpsed imperfectly from afar. You have visited the world we know only from darkling glimpses.”

“Do you understand what Cormach is telling you, Taliesin?” asked Hafgan.

Taliesin nodded. “I think so.”

“Perhaps you do, perhaps not,” sighed Cormach. “You see, I had hoped for a sign from you, lad. I thought your young eyes would be able to see more clearly… and so you did. But what you have seen is for you alone. It is enough to know that you saw it. Lad, your feet have trod in a world we have only dimly perceived and that is something-something I will carry to the grave with me.” They proceeded the rest of the way to the caer in silence. That night Taliesin lay awake on his pallet by the fire thinking about what he had experienced in the Otherworld, wondering what it meant and whether he might go there again soon-not, as Cormach had said, out of mere curiosity, but to see the woman again and awaken her if he could from her sleep beneath the glittering waters.