Authors: Juliet Marillier
Blade of Fortriu (51 page)
Faolan had to force the words out; the words he knew were right. “Why don’t you come too, Drustan? Go free; leave Briar Wood behind.”
Two pairs of eyes turned to him. There was a brief silence.
“After all, why not?” said Deord quietly. “Fly away; never come back. That was the dream of every Breakstone man. Fly away and make life anew. Few of us achieved
it.”
it.”
“I can’t do that.” Drustan’s tone was flat.
“We’ve all killed, some of us more than once,” Faolan said. “You’ve paid the price. More than a fair price; your brother imposes harsh punishments. You’d be a fool to stay on.” Then, when neither of them replied, “You must decide now, the two of you.”
“What if I go, and kill again?” Drustan was looking down at Ana; her lids were heavy, her face
pale save for the livid bruising on cheek and jaw.
pale save for the livid bruising on cheek and jaw.
“You once said,” Deord reminded him, “that you would never hurt her. Was that true, or wasn’t it?”
“I would never harm Ana. She is my hope.”
“Then come with us. Alpin will chase us by the known paths, difficult as they are. Those are the paths his hounds will follow. But there are other ways, ways better known to stag and buzzard, hare and
fox. You can lead us; you can show us how to evade him.” And, as the redheaded man looked up with something new in his eyes, “You can save her, Drustan.”
fox. You can lead us; you can show us how to evade him.” And, as the redheaded man looked up with something new in his eyes, “You can save her, Drustan.”
Drustan glanced around the familiar enclosure as if in panic. “She would know, then. Know what I am.”
“I can’t spare time to debate the issue,” said Faolan crisply, lifting Ana onto his shoulders. “Show me the way out.” He thought for a little
that Drustan would not give her up; his hand held hers until the very last moment.
that Drustan would not give her up; his hand held hers until the very last moment.
“She needn’t know,” Deord said quietly. “Go in your other form. You have the changes under control now. There’s no need to show yourself. This way, Faolan.” Moving to the sleeping quarters, Deord looked back over his shoulder.
“You go, Deord,” Drustan said. “I will follow if I can.”
“Make sure you do,” Deord said. “I don’t want your death on my conscience. Don’t delay too long.” He took a bag of his own from a shelf and slung it on his back. Then, to Faolan, “Best let me carry her; I’ve broader shoulders. See there, our rabbit hole to the outside; we knew you’d be coming, so it’s open. Keep your head down.”
“Will he
come?” Faolan asked, looking back as he clambered down into the underground passage.
come?” Faolan asked, looking back as he clambered down into the underground passage.
“He’d better,” said Deord. “If he doesn’t, he’ll be making me into a deserter; a man who abandoned a friend. If he stays behind his brother will kill him. Silence now, until we’re well into the forest. Wait for my sign before we run for it. I know the patterns those guards keep. Ready?”
“I’m ready,” said Faolan.
I
T WAS SAID, among those few who had the knowledge, that a man who survived incarceration at Breakstone Hollow lost his capacity for fear: the nature of the place was such that terrors faced in later life paled into insignificance. A Breakstone survivor was tough in body and mind; he had to be, or he’d be dead or mad before he could bear his mark of brotherhood out into the sunlight
again.
T WAS SAID, among those few who had the knowledge, that a man who survived incarceration at Breakstone Hollow lost his capacity for fear: the nature of the place was such that terrors faced in later life paled into insignificance. A Breakstone survivor was tough in body and mind; he had to be, or he’d be dead or mad before he could bear his mark of brotherhood out into the sunlight
again.
Fear, nonetheless, sped Faolan’s flight through the forest that day, fear not for his own safety but for Ana’s. It didn’t take much imagination to guess how Alpin would treat her if they were taken. As for his own survival, since that was critical to her return unharmed to White Hill, he must ensure he evaded capture and retained his ability to protect her. There was no time to think beyond
that. It was one foot before the other, running on uneven paths, clambering up rocky slopes, ducking behind boulders or bushes before a punishing sprint across open ground. Sometimes Deord carried Ana and sometimes, feeling bound to do his share, Faolan bore her on his own shoulders.
that. It was one foot before the other, running on uneven paths, clambering up rocky slopes, ducking behind boulders or bushes before a punishing sprint across open ground. Sometimes Deord carried Ana and sometimes, feeling bound to do his share, Faolan bore her on his own shoulders.
Deord’s potion must have been strong. They ran on, driving themselves as fast as they could in the rapidly shrinking
time before Alpin’s inevitable discovery that his bride had flown, and still Ana lay heavy-eyed and supine, unable to help them or herself. Unable to argue; and thank the gods for that, Faolan thought grimly, glancing across at Deord’s tireless figure as they made their way downhill under a stand of oaks. All the same, he’d be relieved when she opened her eyes, even though her first words would
likely form an angry protest.
time before Alpin’s inevitable discovery that his bride had flown, and still Ana lay heavy-eyed and supine, unable to help them or herself. Unable to argue; and thank the gods for that, Faolan thought grimly, glancing across at Deord’s tireless figure as they made their way downhill under a stand of oaks. All the same, he’d be relieved when she opened her eyes, even though her first words would
likely form an angry protest.
As for the mysterious Drustan, he had not made an appearance. Faolan thought of certain men he had seen in the Uí Néill prison, men who had been as desperate for freedom as he, yet who would not contemplate the prospect of escape; men for whom the cruelty and degradation, the grinding daily routine had become, somehow, a safer prospect than the terrifying dream of
the outside world with its multiplicity of choices. Prison could do that to a man. If he stayed there long enough, the place could rob him of his judgment, so that liberty became a thing to be feared, too wondrous and too difficult to be given credence even when the way was open. Such men stood at the door looking out on sun and green fields and wild mountains, then retreated into their dark cave.
Faolan had seen the panic in Drustan’s eyes as he faced the prospect of leaving his enclosure; of leaving Briar Wood forever. Seven years was a long time.
the outside world with its multiplicity of choices. Prison could do that to a man. If he stayed there long enough, the place could rob him of his judgment, so that liberty became a thing to be feared, too wondrous and too difficult to be given credence even when the way was open. Such men stood at the door looking out on sun and green fields and wild mountains, then retreated into their dark cave.
Faolan had seen the panic in Drustan’s eyes as he faced the prospect of leaving his enclosure; of leaving Briar Wood forever. Seven years was a long time.
He’d better not hesitate much longer. Chances were the alarm had already been raised. No doubt Alpin would search every corner once he found Ana’s chamber empty. Faolan and Deord would be marked men. And Drustan, if he lingered, would bear
the brunt of his brother’s first fury. Faolan could not bring himself to wish the bird-man would join them, for all that. Following Deord down the slope to a shallow stream, grimly wading in to walk in the other man’s steps—with luck this would put the dogs off their scent—he was seeing in his mind Drustan’s hands on Ana’s body, Drustan’s lips pressed to her golden hair; he was hearing Ana’s defiant
voice: “
I’m not going
.” It was ridiculous, impossible. The man might not be crazy, but he was—he was what he was, an oddity, one of a kind, and the farther away from him they traveled the happier Faolan would be. It wasn’t that he wished Drustan ill. He just hoped the fellow would fly away in the opposite direction, home to his estates in the west. Faolan glanced skyward through the green canopy
of the spreading oaks.
the brunt of his brother’s first fury. Faolan could not bring himself to wish the bird-man would join them, for all that. Following Deord down the slope to a shallow stream, grimly wading in to walk in the other man’s steps—with luck this would put the dogs off their scent—he was seeing in his mind Drustan’s hands on Ana’s body, Drustan’s lips pressed to her golden hair; he was hearing Ana’s defiant
voice: “
I’m not going
.” It was ridiculous, impossible. The man might not be crazy, but he was—he was what he was, an oddity, one of a kind, and the farther away from him they traveled the happier Faolan would be. It wasn’t that he wished Drustan ill. He just hoped the fellow would fly away in the opposite direction, home to his estates in the west. Faolan glanced skyward through the green canopy
of the spreading oaks.
“No sign,” Deord said, pausing to shift Ana’s weight on his broad shoulders. Her hair, which they had tucked into the cloak, was coming loose now; the long locks dipped into the stream, pale as summer wheat. The guard was calm as ever, but there was a bleakness in his eyes.
“It’s his choice.” Faolan came up behind him, reaching to help the other man. He gathered Ana’s
hair and stuffed the strands as best he could under the cloak fastening. “He wanted, you to do this. And he’s a grown man.”
hair and stuffed the strands as best he could under the cloak fastening. “He wanted, you to do this. And he’s a grown man.”
“We need him,” Deord said. “Alpin has the advantage unless we can find paths he doesn’t know. Pray that Drustan reaches us before his brother does. Are you done?”
“Mm,” grunted Faolan. It was his ill luck, he thought as they splashed on up the stream, that where Drustan’s
hands had stroked and caressed those silken strands, his own were limited to bundling them out of the way with clumsy speed. Ana was ill-dressed for this venture; the borrowed tunic and trousers of their outward journey had been far more suitable. He must try to obtain things for her on the way; borrow or steal from farm or settlement. She couldn’t run in a wedding dress. And the nights were cold.
To offer to keep her warm as before, with his own body, now seemed unthinkable.
hands had stroked and caressed those silken strands, his own were limited to bundling them out of the way with clumsy speed. Ana was ill-dressed for this venture; the borrowed tunic and trousers of their outward journey had been far more suitable. He must try to obtain things for her on the way; borrow or steal from farm or settlement. She couldn’t run in a wedding dress. And the nights were cold.
To offer to keep her warm as before, with his own body, now seemed unthinkable.
Deord was out of the water, starting to climb a wooded slope where oak gave way to silvery birch. Small birds were darting about up above, calling to one another in chattering voices. Fragments of bark or twig, dislodged by their activity, fell to the forest floor by the men’s feet. Something rustled in the undergrowth;
only a creature foraging. Then, from a distance, came a new sound: the baying of hunting hounds. Deord paused, looking back at Faolan. “It might need to be back in the water,” he said. “Can you swim?”
only a creature foraging. Then, from a distance, came a new sound: the baying of hunting hounds. Deord paused, looking back at Faolan. “It might need to be back in the water,” he said. “Can you swim?”
“If I have to. I can’t speak for Ana.”
“Where’s Drustan when we need him?” muttered Deord as they moved across the rise, finding a place where they could scramble up supporting Ana between them.
By the time they reached the top the wedding dress was more mud-brown than cream. Her hair was loose again and catching in everything. Deord took his knife from his belt and, with three swift, expert slashes, cut the long fair locks off level with her shoulders. Faolan was speechless.
By the time they reached the top the wedding dress was more mud-brown than cream. Her hair was loose again and catching in everything. Deord took his knife from his belt and, with three swift, expert slashes, cut the long fair locks off level with her shoulders. Faolan was speechless.
“Put this in your pack,” Deord said. “We may not outrun the dogs, but we can at least avoid laying a trail for
them. Don’t just stand there, do it. Now come on. Pick up the pace.”
them. Don’t just stand there, do it. Now come on. Pick up the pace.”
They ran. Deord found ways Faolan could barely see, muddy channels overgrown with clinging foliage, narrow divides between great stones, precipitous tracks more suited to goats than men. They picked paths across stepping stones and, where there were none, waded knee deep through gushing streams. They squelched across boggy hollows
and balanced on tenuous log bridges. Deord had not been joking when he ordered a faster pace: even with Ana on his shoulders, his speed and endurance were formidable. Faolan closed his mind to distractions and concentrated on keeping up.
and balanced on tenuous log bridges. Deord had not been joking when he ordered a faster pace: even with Ana on his shoulders, his speed and endurance were formidable. Faolan closed his mind to distractions and concentrated on keeping up.
They reached the shore of an isolated lochan, beyond which sheer slopes rose to a formidable line of peaks. Their crowns were pale, bare stone; they seemed as
implacable as a brotherhood of ancient gods. On the near side, the lake was fringed by pines; the water sparkled in the sunlight. Not far from where the two men had emerged from the trees, a high waterfall tumbled in a graceful ribbon of white to spill across stones to the lochan. The roaring of the fall did not quite drown the insistent voices of Alpin’s hounds; they were closing fast, no doubt
followed by men on horseback.
implacable as a brotherhood of ancient gods. On the near side, the lake was fringed by pines; the water sparkled in the sunlight. Not far from where the two men had emerged from the trees, a high waterfall tumbled in a graceful ribbon of white to spill across stones to the lochan. The roaring of the fall did not quite drown the insistent voices of Alpin’s hounds; they were closing fast, no doubt
followed by men on horseback.
Picking a way along the stony shore would be too slow. Where a man could go, a dog could follow; besides, any track around this expanse of water was destined to end in a slope too steep to be climbed. The lake lay in a deep bowl of rock, with only one approach: the way they had come. The way Alpin was coming.
“Now where can a man go that a dog can’t?” muttered Deord.
There was a moment’s pause, punctuated by a moan from Ana. The two men looked at each other. Together, they turned to the waterfall.
“Halfway up a cliff,” Faolan said as the bray of a hunting horn sounded in the forest behind them. “Or better still, halfway up a cliff and underwater.” The two of them began to run. “By all that’s holy … if this story ever gets told there’ll be two madmen in it,
and neither of them will be Drustan …”
and neither of them will be Drustan …”
“Save your breath,” grunted Deord.
Ana was regaining consciousness; she was making weak attempts to struggle and groaning as if her head were on fire. Deord clamped his arms firmly around her knees and back as she lay across his shoulders. Pretty soon, Faolan thought, it wouldn’t matter how much noise she made. By the sound of that barking, the hounds would
have them in sight before a man could count to five times fifty.
have them in sight before a man could count to five times fifty.
They fought their way over stones and through thick grasses. The noise of the waterfall was deafening; its voice sang a powerful challenge:
Don’t meddle with me!
At the base was a pool and, for all the remoteness of the place, offerings had been tied to the bushes there, strips of linen, tattered ribbons, fraying lengths of wool.
Who would not wish to placate whatever savage deity claimed this violent flow of water as its own? Faolan shivered. The memory of Breaking Ford stirred in his blood. For Ana’s own sake, he prayed she would remain oblivious yet a while.
Don’t meddle with me!
At the base was a pool and, for all the remoteness of the place, offerings had been tied to the bushes there, strips of linen, tattered ribbons, fraying lengths of wool.
Who would not wish to placate whatever savage deity claimed this violent flow of water as its own? Faolan shivered. The memory of Breaking Ford stirred in his blood. For Ana’s own sake, he prayed she would remain oblivious yet a while.
“Up,” said Deord. “Up and under cover before they come out into the open. Here, take her.”
Faolan looked upward. High on the cliff, partly obscured by a swirling
mist of water droplets, he could see birds flying in and out; there was, perhaps, a cave or hollow behind the plunging torrent. The way up was precipitous, the rocks slick and moss-coated. He could hardly refuse to carry Ana in his turn. But up there? What did Deord think he was, a squirrel?
mist of water droplets, he could see birds flying in and out; there was, perhaps, a cave or hollow behind the plunging torrent. The way up was precipitous, the rocks slick and moss-coated. He could hardly refuse to carry Ana in his turn. But up there? What did Deord think he was, a squirrel?
“Quick! Go!” Deord eased Ana’s body onto his companion’s back. Faolan raised his arms to hold her steady;
how was he going to climb? “I’ll help you up the first bit,” Deord said. “Hold her with one hand, climb with the other. You can do it.”
how was he going to climb? “I’ll help you up the first bit,” Deord said. “Hold her with one hand, climb with the other. You can do it.”
It seemed impossible. Faolan gritted his teeth, adjusted Ana’s limp form to lie across one shoulder, her head hanging down behind, and began a slow ascent. It was insane. The whole day was insane. There was one moment when his foot slipped and his weight and
hers skewed sideways, leaving him teetering over the precipice, water gushing, his heart pounding. Deord’s hand came from behind, balancing Ana and correcting Faolan’s own position in one sure push. They reached a ledge and Faolan drew breath.
hers skewed sideways, leaving him teetering over the precipice, water gushing, his heart pounding. Deord’s hand came from behind, balancing Ana and correcting Faolan’s own position in one sure push. They reached a ledge and Faolan drew breath.
“Go on,” Deord shouted over the roaring of the falls. “Up there. Should be a cave. Hide and wait.”
“Till they starve us out?” Faolan joked grimly, peering
upward and trying to convince himself he could see a cave somewhere beyond the mass of flying water.
upward and trying to convince himself he could see a cave somewhere beyond the mass of flying water.
“No need for that.” Deord had let go and was heading back down. “I’ll lead them astray; give the dogs a different scent. If I’m not back by sundown, go on without me. My advice would be to head on up and look for a track across those hills.”
“What—” It was suicide. The fellow was completely crazy.
“Go on, Faolan.” Deord looked back, his eyes steady, his expression calm. “Without this, we’ll be stuck here like rats in a trap while they wait for us to give up. Now get up there before they see you. You can do it Look after her well, bard. And give Drustan my greeting, if he comes.”
Faolan was dumbstruck. Before he could summon a response, Deord had disappeared down the cliff, and it was too
late to say thank you, or farewell, or anything at all.
late to say thank you, or farewell, or anything at all.
Faolan executed the remaining climb almost unaware of what he was doing. He had no room in him for fear of falling, or for anything save the automatic adjustment of balance or grip or position that would move him upward without dropping Ana or losing his hold. He did not look down. He did not look to see what Deord was doing, nor did he
listen for hounds or horses or men out hunting. At a certain point, considerably higher, there was a broader ledge that curved around into a deep hollow beneath a sharp overhang. The water fell across this jutting stone, and the cave beneath was filled with the sound of its falling. The space was rock floored and not entirely wet. Within, Faolan looked out on the white sheet of descending water, sunlit
from beyond. The voice of the falls was deafening. He lowered Ana to the ground, wincing at the pain in his back, his knees, his abraded hands. The light in the cave was ghostly, a pale gleam through moving water, it turned Ana’s wan features sickly white. She was stirring; shivering. Her gown was soaked, his own clothing no drier. He went through what practical steps he could: undoing his pack,
looking for something warm and dry—what had Deord put in here, a cloak? Ah, a tightly folded blanket—and wrapping her in it. He made sure she was positioned safely so she would not roll straight over the edge if she woke confused and afraid. All the time the image of Deord was in his mind, Deord going back down, Deord hunted through the forest, Deord, in effect, giving himself up so they could
be safe. Why? The man hardly knew them. The Breakstone code stopped short of demanding such sacrifice. He shouldn’t have let Deord go; he should have insisted … But then they would all have been taken; even Ana. Perhaps Deord knew what he was doing. Wait until sundown, he’d said. Sundown was still a long way off. They could have done with some help. Where in the name of all the gods was Drustan?
listen for hounds or horses or men out hunting. At a certain point, considerably higher, there was a broader ledge that curved around into a deep hollow beneath a sharp overhang. The water fell across this jutting stone, and the cave beneath was filled with the sound of its falling. The space was rock floored and not entirely wet. Within, Faolan looked out on the white sheet of descending water, sunlit
from beyond. The voice of the falls was deafening. He lowered Ana to the ground, wincing at the pain in his back, his knees, his abraded hands. The light in the cave was ghostly, a pale gleam through moving water, it turned Ana’s wan features sickly white. She was stirring; shivering. Her gown was soaked, his own clothing no drier. He went through what practical steps he could: undoing his pack,
looking for something warm and dry—what had Deord put in here, a cloak? Ah, a tightly folded blanket—and wrapping her in it. He made sure she was positioned safely so she would not roll straight over the edge if she woke confused and afraid. All the time the image of Deord was in his mind, Deord going back down, Deord hunted through the forest, Deord, in effect, giving himself up so they could
be safe. Why? The man hardly knew them. The Breakstone code stopped short of demanding such sacrifice. He shouldn’t have let Deord go; he should have insisted … But then they would all have been taken; even Ana. Perhaps Deord knew what he was doing. Wait until sundown, he’d said. Sundown was still a long way off. They could have done with some help. Where in the name of all the gods was Drustan?
As if in answer to the unspoken question, a small, neat form appeared, flying in through the curtains of water to land, shaking the droplets from its red feathers, on a protruding stone. Not the hawklike creature they needed; only the crossbill. Faolan glanced at it inimically.
“Faolan?” Ana’s voice was weak, but he heard her through the water’s powerful music. “Faolan, where are we?”
As simply
and clearly as he could he explained, while Ana sat with pinched features and shadowed eyes, huddled in the blanket. He did not tell her how much it had hurt that she had believed he would betray Bridei. He did not speak of that at all, only of the treaty scorned and the need to get away before she was committed to her mockery of a marriage. He apologized for rendering her unconscious. He explained
that Deord had helped them, and that now Deord was gone.
and clearly as he could he explained, while Ana sat with pinched features and shadowed eyes, huddled in the blanket. He did not tell her how much it had hurt that she had believed he would betray Bridei. He did not speak of that at all, only of the treaty scorned and the need to get away before she was committed to her mockery of a marriage. He apologized for rendering her unconscious. He explained
that Deord had helped them, and that now Deord was gone.
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