Authors: Juliet Marillier
Blade of Fortriu (55 page)
In the midnight shadows of Briar Wood he blanketed Deord’s still form with earth then searched for stones by moonlight and laid them in a rough cairn to keep scavengers from the body. He stood guard over the makeshift grave, waiting for first light so he could
begin the long walk back to the waterfall; to Ana, whom he had entrusted, all night, to the mercurial, the impulsive Drustan. In the long, long time from deep of night to first whisper of dawn, Faolan thought of loyalty and honor; of choices made and chances taken; of blood and betrayal. With sheer terror in his heart, he thought of home.
begin the long walk back to the waterfall; to Ana, whom he had entrusted, all night, to the mercurial, the impulsive Drustan. In the long, long time from deep of night to first whisper of dawn, Faolan thought of loyalty and honor; of choices made and chances taken; of blood and betrayal. With sheer terror in his heart, he thought of home.
FOLA HAD RETURNED to the house of the wise women
at Banmerren. Bridei was far beyond reach. Uist no longer wandered in the same world as his old friends, but had gone on before them to the place beyond the margins. Aniel, astute as he was in matters strategic, had no grasp of the stuff of visions and portents. There was nobody Broichan could talk to. There was nobody he could tell. The urge to share what he had seen was great. Indeed, it was
his duty to do so, if those images of a man enduring an unspeakable death with god-given courage might prove in any way helpful to the future endeavors of Fortriu’s king and his army. But he could not tell; not until the interpretation became clear to him. It boded poorly for the alliance with Alpin of Briar Wood. It seemed disastrous for the royal hostage, and perhaps also for Bridei’s right-hand
man. But Broichan knew well enough the deceptive nature of such visions, their skewing of time and place, their jumble of the real and the symbolic.
at Banmerren. Bridei was far beyond reach. Uist no longer wandered in the same world as his old friends, but had gone on before them to the place beyond the margins. Aniel, astute as he was in matters strategic, had no grasp of the stuff of visions and portents. There was nobody Broichan could talk to. There was nobody he could tell. The urge to share what he had seen was great. Indeed, it was
his duty to do so, if those images of a man enduring an unspeakable death with god-given courage might prove in any way helpful to the future endeavors of Fortriu’s king and his army. But he could not tell; not until the interpretation became clear to him. It boded poorly for the alliance with Alpin of Briar Wood. It seemed disastrous for the royal hostage, and perhaps also for Bridei’s right-hand
man. But Broichan knew well enough the deceptive nature of such visions, their skewing of time and place, their jumble of the real and the symbolic.
Curse this illness! His head was fogged with uncertainty and his limbs ached from so long keeping still, holding the vision. Once, he had been able to kneel through the night, arms outstretched in pose of meditation, and arise at dawn with not a
trace of cramp. Once … that was before the malady began to overtake him again. The Shining One aid him, he felt like an old man in his dotage, weak and sore and confused. It was not to be endured. Had this vision been sent solely to tell him he must accept death gladly? That he must face it without regret, as that lone warrior had seemed to do?
trace of cramp. Once … that was before the malady began to overtake him again. The Shining One aid him, he felt like an old man in his dotage, weak and sore and confused. It was not to be endured. Had this vision been sent solely to tell him he must accept death gladly? That he must face it without regret, as that lone warrior had seemed to do?
Suddenly desperate to fill his lungs with fresh
air, Broichan unbolted his door and walked out into the garden. It was a shock to find the sun shining, to see its light touching the orderly rows of vegetables, herbs, and medicinal flowers with warm benevolence. On the patch of grass beside the lavender bed, Derelei sat playing with his little stone horse, his infant features solemn with concentration. Opposite him sat his mother, cross-legged and
straight backed, watching the child with eyes as big and mysterious as an owl’s. She might have been a sister to Derelei, Broichan thought, so young did she look and so slight. A frisson passed through him, a fleeting, unwelcome chill that was part memory, part foreboding. What Fola had said about the child was nonsense; nobody with any intelligence could credit such a notion. Derelei’s parentage
was evident in his curling brown hair and candid blue eyes—Bridei’s, both—and, a more mixed blessing, the pallor and the unusual talents he had inherited from his mother. And if it were Bridei’s own parentage that was in question, that, too, was beyond dispute. Anyone who had known Maelchon of Gwynedd would read his imprint in Bridei’s strong-boned features and upright stance, and see something
of Maelchon’s powerful presence in his son’s mastery of men. The king of Gwynedd had been a born leader; Bridei was that and more. Besides, Anfreda was not the kind of woman to betray her husband. All the same … all the same, there was a deep unease in Broichan’s mind as he walked toward Tuala and her son and saw both faces alter as they turned toward him. Tuala’s features became wary, guarded; Derelei
held up his arms, beaming.
air, Broichan unbolted his door and walked out into the garden. It was a shock to find the sun shining, to see its light touching the orderly rows of vegetables, herbs, and medicinal flowers with warm benevolence. On the patch of grass beside the lavender bed, Derelei sat playing with his little stone horse, his infant features solemn with concentration. Opposite him sat his mother, cross-legged and
straight backed, watching the child with eyes as big and mysterious as an owl’s. She might have been a sister to Derelei, Broichan thought, so young did she look and so slight. A frisson passed through him, a fleeting, unwelcome chill that was part memory, part foreboding. What Fola had said about the child was nonsense; nobody with any intelligence could credit such a notion. Derelei’s parentage
was evident in his curling brown hair and candid blue eyes—Bridei’s, both—and, a more mixed blessing, the pallor and the unusual talents he had inherited from his mother. And if it were Bridei’s own parentage that was in question, that, too, was beyond dispute. Anyone who had known Maelchon of Gwynedd would read his imprint in Bridei’s strong-boned features and upright stance, and see something
of Maelchon’s powerful presence in his son’s mastery of men. The king of Gwynedd had been a born leader; Bridei was that and more. Besides, Anfreda was not the kind of woman to betray her husband. All the same … all the same, there was a deep unease in Broichan’s mind as he walked toward Tuala and her son and saw both faces alter as they turned toward him. Tuala’s features became wary, guarded; Derelei
held up his arms, beaming.
“May I join you?” Broichan settled on the grass, dark robe spread around him. Then, following a sudden, unlikely impulse, “Tuala, I’ve a favor to ask you.”
“Me?” she queried, clearly taken aback. “Of course, if I can help.”
Without stopping to think too hard, he gave her an account of what the gods had shown him. She sat quietly, grave eyes fixed on him as he spoke
of the running man, the hunt, the impossible last stand. Derelei was making the little horse jump over his outstretched arm.
of the running man, the hunt, the impossible last stand. Derelei was making the little horse jump over his outstretched arm.
Tuala did not speak until the tale was finished, the warrior sprawled, dying, alone in the forest. Then she said, “A grim vision indeed; it is no wonder you look so pale. I had thought you ill. This is deeply disturbing. Alpin, you said? And he spoke of Ana. This cruel
hunter who mutilates dying men is the chieftain we sent her away to marry. Can it be a vision of the present, do you think? Or is it perhaps what might be if we do not take steps to forestall it?”
hunter who mutilates dying men is the chieftain we sent her away to marry. Can it be a vision of the present, do you think? Or is it perhaps what might be if we do not take steps to forestall it?”
“I would welcome your own interpretation.”
“I … if you wish.” The reason for Tuala’s hesitation was plain; in all the years since she had been placed in his household as a newborn babe, Broichan had
never once asked for her opinion on such a matter, although he knew well what talents she possessed. “Of course,” she said, “I did not see these images myself. That means I must interpret at secondhand, through your eyes. Had I been by your side, using the same scrying tool, my eyes would perhaps have given me the same vision, but in the way the gods intended me to see it. That would be more useful.”
never once asked for her opinion on such a matter, although he knew well what talents she possessed. “Of course,” she said, “I did not see these images myself. That means I must interpret at secondhand, through your eyes. Had I been by your side, using the same scrying tool, my eyes would perhaps have given me the same vision, but in the way the gods intended me to see it. That would be more useful.”
“Tell me anyway.” Broichan clicked his fingers; the stone horse turned its head toward him.
Still Tuala hesitated.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I must say this, even if I offend you. If I speak, you would not … you would not use it against me? There are folk here at court, and beyond, who would grasp at any means available to undermine Bridei’s power, especially now, while he is away. I need to
be careful, Broichan.”
be careful, Broichan.”
“I ask this only for myself, Tuala.”
“Fola would do it better.”
“You are here and Fola is not.”
She cleared her throat nervously. Could it be that, grown woman and queen as she was, she was still afraid of him? Derelei had moved over to Broichan’s side now and the little horse had followed, lifting its stone hooves in orderly sequence.
“It sounded very—immediate,” Tuala
said. “The forest, the light, that seemed akin to the place where Ana was going and to the current season. I don’t know who this warrior was. Perhaps he is not a real person, more of an embodiment of the ideal of manly courage. After all, the Priteni ride to war this summer. The gods may be telling us many must fall before we gain our victory. But … you heard this chieftain, Alpin, speak of Ana;
that she had run away or been abducted … That she had betrayed him with his own brother … That cannot be true. I know Ana. She holds duty and propriety above all things. She is the last person to act so impulsively and in such disregard of the conventions of society. Alpin mentioned a Gael. That could be Faolan, though surely the escort would be well on the way home by now …”
said. “The forest, the light, that seemed akin to the place where Ana was going and to the current season. I don’t know who this warrior was. Perhaps he is not a real person, more of an embodiment of the ideal of manly courage. After all, the Priteni ride to war this summer. The gods may be telling us many must fall before we gain our victory. But … you heard this chieftain, Alpin, speak of Ana;
that she had run away or been abducted … That she had betrayed him with his own brother … That cannot be true. I know Ana. She holds duty and propriety above all things. She is the last person to act so impulsively and in such disregard of the conventions of society. Alpin mentioned a Gael. That could be Faolan, though surely the escort would be well on the way home by now …”
“He said the Gael
was a bard,” Broichan mused.
was a bard,” Broichan mused.
“So, not Faolan then. If this was a true image of present or near-present, something has gone terribly awry for Ana. I fear for her; for all of them. And … if the marriage has not taken place, that could mean Bridei’s treaty has not been signed. That Alpin of Briar Wood never agreed to it. That is dangerous news for Bridei.”
“You do not see the vision as purely symbolic,
then?” Broichan felt the tension in his own body, and made himself breathe more slowly. “A message about, say, the nature of death and dying?”
then?” Broichan felt the tension in his own body, and made himself breathe more slowly. “A message about, say, the nature of death and dying?”
There was a long silence while Tuala’s wide, strange eyes regarded him solemnly. “Why would the Shining One send you such a message?” she asked eventually.
The answer came out against his better judgment. “To instruct me that I should accept what is in
store for me,” he said. “That I should not continue to beg her for more time. Pain, I can endure; I’ve taught myself how to disregard it. But this is too soon. I’ve so much more to duo …” Derelei had climbed onto Broichan’s lap and was playing with the long braids of the druid’s hair, twisting and knotting them together. Broichan curved his arm around the child’s slight form and looked across at
Tuala. What he saw on her face was not shock or sorrow, nor even the satisfaction of observing an old enemy weakened. Instead, her fey eyes now blazed with determination and her delicate jaw was set as firmly as any warrior’s.
store for me,” he said. “That I should not continue to beg her for more time. Pain, I can endure; I’ve taught myself how to disregard it. But this is too soon. I’ve so much more to duo …” Derelei had climbed onto Broichan’s lap and was playing with the long braids of the druid’s hair, twisting and knotting them together. Broichan curved his arm around the child’s slight form and looked across at
Tuala. What he saw on her face was not shock or sorrow, nor even the satisfaction of observing an old enemy weakened. Instead, her fey eyes now blazed with determination and her delicate jaw was set as firmly as any warrior’s.
“It is a vision of true things,” she told him, “and most probably taking place now, which is bad news for the fallen warrior, but better news for you. The Shining One entrusted
you with Bridei’s upbringing and, in a sense, with mine. The goddess considers you a favored son and a conduit for her wisdom. You should not forget that, as a druid, you are the servant of the gods. And since we are speaking of trust, I have entrusted you with my most precious treasure: my son. You owe it to the gods and to me to survive until you have taught Derelei those things he needs
to know. Without that learning, his path in life will be perilous indeed. It was very hard for me to give you that trust. You need to play your part in the bargain.”
you with Bridei’s upbringing and, in a sense, with mine. The goddess considers you a favored son and a conduit for her wisdom. You should not forget that, as a druid, you are the servant of the gods. And since we are speaking of trust, I have entrusted you with my most precious treasure: my son. You owe it to the gods and to me to survive until you have taught Derelei those things he needs
to know. Without that learning, his path in life will be perilous indeed. It was very hard for me to give you that trust. You need to play your part in the bargain.”
She had surprised him; she was tougher than he had believed. It could have been Fola speaking. “Unfortunately,” he said as Derelei’s arms came up around his neck and the child snuggled his head against the druid’s shoulder, “I cannot
hold back the effects of a poison that was administered to me years ago, and which has damaged me. It works in me now; my days are indeed numbered.”
hold back the effects of a poison that was administered to me years ago, and which has damaged me. It works in me now; my days are indeed numbered.”
“What help have you sought for this malady?” Tuala asked. “I know you are sick and in pain. It has become ever clearer to me as the season progressed. You wanted to go with Bridei, I could see that. I tried to ensure he did not know the truth, since
that would have weighed heavily on him during the campaign. He would have liked you to go.”
that would have weighed heavily on him during the campaign. He would have liked you to go.”
Broichan held the child close and did not speak.
“Has Fola offered help? Or the druids of the forest?”
He did not answer.
“Very well. You asked me for help, and I will help. But you must accept that, in this case, you may not be your own best physician.”
“I asked for help in the interpretation of a
vision. Not for this.”
vision. Not for this.”
“You are the king’s druid. Why would you need me to explain the messages of the scrying bowl to you?” Her tone was gentle; he heard in it that she already knew the answer. Suddenly it became possible to speak truly, and it all came flooding out: the headaches, the temporary blindness, the gradual dulling of his powers so that even the simplest tasks of the craft often seemed
beyond him. The terror that, all too soon, he would lose his gift entirely.
beyond him. The terror that, all too soon, he would lose his gift entirely.
Tuala listened quietly; he realized how good she was at that. There was no judgment in her eyes. When he was quite finished, she drew a long breath and said, “How frightening for you. You must have felt so alone.”
“I’m accustomed to being alone.”
“All the same. Now, will you let us help you?”
“Us? I don’t want this
to become public knowledge, Tuala. That can only alert Bridei’s enemies to a weakness in his court. It must be believed that I am still capable of exercising my full role here.”
to become public knowledge, Tuala. That can only alert Bridei’s enemies to a weakness in his court. It must be believed that I am still capable of exercising my full role here.”
“Only those you trust need know. Fola, certainly, and her expert healers. Aniel, perhaps, since he can cover for any absences. And me. I know you’ve never trusted me. But you’ve told me now, and Bridei would want me to
help you.”
help you.”
He scrutinized her small, heart-shaped face with its snow-white skin and large, lustrous eyes. “You offer this on Bridei’s behalf?”
“And on my own,” she said. “You saved Derelei’s life. He needs you. We all need you, Broichan. If we put up the best fight we can, all together, maybe this malady can be defeated. Today’s vision is a good sign, surely. Your account of it was lucid and
detailed.”
detailed.”
“It is a long time since such images last visited me; longer still since the interpretation sprang to my mind promptly and truly. I’m the most skilled healer in all the lands of the Priteni, Tuala. If I haven’t been able to hold back the course of this illness, who can?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Perhaps what you need lies beyond the efforts of one man, whether he be king’s druid
or no. I just know you are worth saving, and that if we can, we will do it. Maybe the vision was telling us simply that: be strong, be brave, be the best you can be. And not to give up hope, even in the darkest moment.”
or no. I just know you are worth saving, and that if we can, we will do it. Maybe the vision was telling us simply that: be strong, be brave, be the best you can be. And not to give up hope, even in the darkest moment.”
His heart was beating fast; he felt as if he had leaped from a high cliff and landed, to his astonishment, in safe hands. He could feel the blood coursing in his veins; beyond
the sward where they sat, druid, young woman, and child, the flowers of White Hill’s garden bloomed in colors that seemed, all of a sudden, brighter and more real than any he had seen before.
the sward where they sat, druid, young woman, and child, the flowers of White Hill’s garden bloomed in colors that seemed, all of a sudden, brighter and more real than any he had seen before.
“All the same,” Tuala added soberly, “we should send a message to Bridei. He needs to be warned that all is not well in the north.”
“You think of everything.”
“Not quite,” she said. “As the king’s wife,
I am still learning. Now, I’m going to send for Fola. Or, better still, I think we’ll go to Banmerren and pay her a visit.”
I am still learning. Now, I’m going to send for Fola. Or, better still, I think we’ll go to Banmerren and pay her a visit.”
ANA HAD BEEN wreathed in a wonderful dream, a dream in which she had lain in Drustan’s arms, his body warming hers, his hands moving on her skin with a passion and tenderness that awoke sensations of surprise and delight, soon followed by an urgent, throbbing desire.
The aching unfulfillment of this remained with her now as she awoke at first light in the little cave with its curtain of rushing water. The power of her physical feelings astonished her. Surely, if the body teetered thus on the brink of release, something of it must show on one’s face, in the eyes or in the flushed cheeks. Thank the gods Faolan was not here to read her thoughts. There were
only the three birds on the rock ledges of the cave, the crossbill preening its scarlet feathers, the hoodie using its beak to probe some small creature out of a crevice, and the other one, the one that was some kind of hawk, though unlike any species Ana had seen before, simply fixing her with a bright, unwavering stare.
The aching unfulfillment of this remained with her now as she awoke at first light in the little cave with its curtain of rushing water. The power of her physical feelings astonished her. Surely, if the body teetered thus on the brink of release, something of it must show on one’s face, in the eyes or in the flushed cheeks. Thank the gods Faolan was not here to read her thoughts. There were
only the three birds on the rock ledges of the cave, the crossbill preening its scarlet feathers, the hoodie using its beak to probe some small creature out of a crevice, and the other one, the one that was some kind of hawk, though unlike any species Ana had seen before, simply fixing her with a bright, unwavering stare.
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