Authors: Juliet Marillier
Blade of Fortriu (62 page)
“What’s wrong?” asked Faolan, glancing at her as he balanced
the skewered bird over the fire.
the skewered bird over the fire.
“Nothing,” Ana muttered. In the distance a cry rang out over the woods, a greeting and challenge: the uncanny music of wolves. From time to time, during the last few days, Ana had had the sense of being tracked; watched. She had not heard the pad of feet, nor cracklings in the undergrowth, but she had felt it nonetheless. She hoped Faolan would make one of his
reassuring comments, such as, “They’re farther off than they sound,” but he said nothing.
reassuring comments, such as, “They’re farther off than they sound,” but he said nothing.
On these summer nights the hillsides were bathed in a pale, cool light until nearly midnight, and the time of darkness was brief. Usually Ana was so exhausted by the end of the day’s walking that she fell asleep soon after they had made fire and eaten. The discomfort of a bed made on rock or earth or forest
floor was no longer enough to hold back the dive into a dark well of sleep. She knew she was much thinner; she felt the pressure of her hard bed on knees and elbows, on hips and shoulders that had lost the protective padding of their healthy flesh, and she was glad there were no mirrors here. She saw in Faolan something of the same. Hollow-cheeked, dark-bearded, he had acquired an edgy, dangerous
look, the look of a man who fears he is losing control of the situation.
floor was no longer enough to hold back the dive into a dark well of sleep. She knew she was much thinner; she felt the pressure of her hard bed on knees and elbows, on hips and shoulders that had lost the protective padding of their healthy flesh, and she was glad there were no mirrors here. She saw in Faolan something of the same. Hollow-cheeked, dark-bearded, he had acquired an edgy, dangerous
look, the look of a man who fears he is losing control of the situation.
Tonight sleep was not going to come. The bones of their meager supper gnawed clean, they sat close to their fire and listened to the howling. There was a pattern in it: a call, an answer. A summons, a consent. The pack was drawing nearer. The moon hung low in the sky, near full, a pale presence more guessed at than seen
against the cold gray-blue of the summer night. The pines seemed darker, taller, more ominous than any Ana had seen before; the spaces beneath them were secret hollows, gaping mouths tenanted by unknown presences ready to swallow any intruder. Ana glanced up at the birds. The hawk perched high; he was restless tonight, moving about on the branch, a pair of eyes, a shadowy swathe of feathers. Hoodie
and crossbill huddled close together like a pair of nestlings. From deep in the woods she imagined she could hear rustling, growling, the pad of many feet.
against the cold gray-blue of the summer night. The pines seemed darker, taller, more ominous than any Ana had seen before; the spaces beneath them were secret hollows, gaping mouths tenanted by unknown presences ready to swallow any intruder. Ana glanced up at the birds. The hawk perched high; he was restless tonight, moving about on the branch, a pair of eyes, a shadowy swathe of feathers. Hoodie
and crossbill huddled close together like a pair of nestlings. From deep in the woods she imagined she could hear rustling, growling, the pad of many feet.
“We should build up the fire.” Faolan’s tone was commendably steady. “We need enough wood to keep it burning until first light. You’ll need to stay awake and help me keep watch.”
Without a word, she got up to help him gather fuel, not venturing
too close to the forest’s edge. As they moved about, their boots making twigs crack and undergrowth rustle, the woods seemed to hush and the wolf voices fell silent. When Ana and Faolan returned to the fireside, their task complete, the creatures took up their hunting song again, and it was closer.
too close to the forest’s edge. As they moved about, their boots making twigs crack and undergrowth rustle, the woods seemed to hush and the wolf voices fell silent. When Ana and Faolan returned to the fireside, their task complete, the creatures took up their hunting song again, and it was closer.
“What if they—” Ana’s teeth were chattering; she clenched her jaw to stop them.
“The fire will
hold them back.”
hold them back.”
“But if they come; if they attack.”
“Knife in one hand, fire in the other—grab hold of a brand, like this—” He snatched a flaming stick, gripping the unburned end. Ana saw that he had laid the fire in a way that provided a ready supply of these. He was expecting it, then, for all the calm demeanor. He, too, thought they would move in tonight.
“I suppose we could climb a tree,”
she said, not altogether joking.
she said, not altogether joking.
Faolan eyed the tall pines, their trunks devoid of useful branches to a point well above his head. “From the looks of this forest,” he said, “I think I might prefer to take my chances with the wolves. Ana?”
“What?”
“Something’s moving down under the trees, behind you. Stay calm. Reach down for a brand; when you turn, hold it up in front of you. Remember, it’s
the barrier between you and the wolf. Don’t be tempted to run. Keep the campfire at your back. Don’t use the knife unless there’s no other choice. Ready?”
the barrier between you and the wolf. Don’t be tempted to run. Keep the campfire at your back. Don’t use the knife unless there’s no other choice. Ready?”
Ready? How could one ever be ready for this? “Yes,” she said, and turned, and saw them. Moving warily under the trees, not twenty paces away, they could be discerned as eyes touched to shining points by the firelight, forms merging with the
layered darkness of the night wood, a hundred shades of gray. She tried to count them and, sickened by terror, found that there were too many to number, shifting, passing, grouping, and separating like so many dancers in an elegant parade of long-limbed, sharptoothed grace. The hawk gave a harsh scream in the branches above them and the wolves retreated a pace or two, then moved forward again in
silent, expectant concert. The hawk swooped, a blur of sudden movement, and swept a handspan before the leading creature’s startled eyes, talons extended. The wolf snapped its jaws; feathers flew. The bird went up and out of reach, then dived again.
layered darkness of the night wood, a hundred shades of gray. She tried to count them and, sickened by terror, found that there were too many to number, shifting, passing, grouping, and separating like so many dancers in an elegant parade of long-limbed, sharptoothed grace. The hawk gave a harsh scream in the branches above them and the wolves retreated a pace or two, then moved forward again in
silent, expectant concert. The hawk swooped, a blur of sudden movement, and swept a handspan before the leading creature’s startled eyes, talons extended. The wolf snapped its jaws; feathers flew. The bird went up and out of reach, then dived again.
“They’re moving around behind us.” Faolan was by her side, his own fire stick in his hand. “Just remember—”
“Keep the fire at my back,” Ana muttered,
fear clawing at her gut. An instant later, one of the long, gray forms made a feinting run toward her and she thrust forward with her firebrand, the knowledge that she actually was going to have to fight for her life warring with the unreality, the nightmarish quality of it all. The bird swooped, and this time its talons found a mark. There was a scream of pain and the wolf that had attacked
her fell back.
fear clawing at her gut. An instant later, one of the long, gray forms made a feinting run toward her and she thrust forward with her firebrand, the knowledge that she actually was going to have to fight for her life warring with the unreality, the nightmarish quality of it all. The bird swooped, and this time its talons found a mark. There was a scream of pain and the wolf that had attacked
her fell back.
She couldn’t see Faolan. Behind her, on the other side of the fire, she heard him stumble and curse, and then he began to shout, as if he might keep the creatures at bay with his voice. Another made a dart at her, jaws snapping, and she swung the brand across, fighting to keep her balance and to maintain her position so they could not slip between her and the fire. The hawk had
flown up out of sight. Hoodie and crossbill were nowhere to be seen.
flown up out of sight. Hoodie and crossbill were nowhere to be seen.
Ana yelled something, anything, stabbing forward with the fire stick and hearing how small and shrill, how utterly ineffectual her voice was. It was the little squeak of a mouse before the owl swallows it; the squeal of a rabbit as the jaws of the hunting dog fasten on its fragile skull. Whirl, jab, shout; dodge, lunge, scream.
First there was one, then two, then three of them coming in turn against her, quicker and quicker, a snap, a run, a bite, a jump … Gods, if one of them went for her throat this would all be over in an instant. The rank, wild smell of the creatures was all around her, their growling filled her ears. She could feel the thundering of her heartbeat in every part of her body; her knees were weak as
water. Duck, turn, thrust, shout …
First there was one, then two, then three of them coming in turn against her, quicker and quicker, a snap, a run, a bite, a jump … Gods, if one of them went for her throat this would all be over in an instant. The rank, wild smell of the creatures was all around her, their growling filled her ears. She could feel the thundering of her heartbeat in every part of her body; her knees were weak as
water. Duck, turn, thrust, shout …
A great roar, and Faolan was at her side, sweeping his own fiery brand across and sending three of the wolves cringing back as the trail of flame singed them. Then he was gone, and she heard the sounds of his own particular game of attack and defense behind her. Ana drew a gasping, choking breath and shifted her grip on the wood. It was burning fast; soon, somehow,
she’d need to find a moment to snatch another. Already the three were advancing on her again, slowly, their every movement a masterpiece of harnessed tension. Their voices united in an eldritch, snarling growl.
she’d need to find a moment to snatch another. Already the three were advancing on her again, slowly, their every movement a masterpiece of harnessed tension. Their voices united in an eldritch, snarling growl.
Faolan made a sound, a strangled curse, and she knew immediately that he had been hurt. She couldn’t turn; she couldn’t even look, let alone help him. She poked her brand at one, then
another, and slashed wildly with the knife. On the outer edge of the circle wolves were running now, many wolves; the trap was closing. Ana could hear the sound of her own breathing, shallow, rasping, no longer strong enough to support a shout of defiance. No longer even enough for a last desperate prayer. She dropped to one knee, knife point held outward, and snatched a new brand from the fire. The
leading wolf bunched its hindquarters, ready to spring.
another, and slashed wildly with the knife. On the outer edge of the circle wolves were running now, many wolves; the trap was closing. Ana could hear the sound of her own breathing, shallow, rasping, no longer strong enough to support a shout of defiance. No longer even enough for a last desperate prayer. She dropped to one knee, knife point held outward, and snatched a new brand from the fire. The
leading wolf bunched its hindquarters, ready to spring.
“Drustan! Get out here and help us!” roared Faolan, moving into sight again and hurling something—a rock?—in her attackers’ direction. “Be a man!”
There was no time to ponder the oddity of this. He had won her the moment she needed to get up, to face the wolves with new fire. She waited, brand before her, as they jostled and dodged and
moved again into pose of readiness.
moved again into pose of readiness.
“Drustan!” Faolan’s voice was a powerful shout from deep in the belly. “Do it! Do it now! Come out and help us or we’re both dead! What price your scruples then, you fool?”
And then, oh, then … Suddenly from nowhere there was a third figure running, swerving, turning, a firebrand in each hand, dazzling the wolf pack into open-eyed stillness with his rapid,
fluid sequence of movement, a tall, broad-shouldered figure with a mane of hair as wild and red as the fire he bore in his hands. Faolan’s words had conjured him out of nothing. Ana’s heart turned over; her breath stopped in her throat. Drustan was here. He had come back, and the world was made anew.
fluid sequence of movement, a tall, broad-shouldered figure with a mane of hair as wild and red as the fire he bore in his hands. Faolan’s words had conjured him out of nothing. Ana’s heart turned over; her breath stopped in her throat. Drustan was here. He had come back, and the world was made anew.
He did not halt the creatures long. They moved again in their circling ritual, teeth bared,
voices a rumble of menace. But with three by the fire, it was much harder for the wolves to choose a target, to feint and to strike. Before the onslaught of whirling fire, of changing forms in the flickering light, the hunters drew back, some slinking up the hill to crouch beside an outcrop of shadowy stone, some moving down into the first shelter of the pines where they spread out in a line, waiting.
voices a rumble of menace. But with three by the fire, it was much harder for the wolves to choose a target, to feint and to strike. Before the onslaught of whirling fire, of changing forms in the flickering light, the hunters drew back, some slinking up the hill to crouch beside an outcrop of shadowy stone, some moving down into the first shelter of the pines where they spread out in a line, waiting.
“Take a new brand.” Faolan’s voice was tight. He seemed to have been injured in both leg and shoulder. “They’ll be back soon.” He glanced at Drustan, who was standing a little way off, bent over, catching his breath. “You took your time,” Faolan said.
Ana’s heart was so full she had no room left for fear. No time now for questions: where had he been? How had Faolan known he was close by? Drustan
was alive, and he was here. Nothing else mattered. She moved to his side; he straightened. She reached up a hand, a curious shyness overtaking her, and touched his cheek. Drustan brought her fingers to his lips, a moment only, then released her and stepped back. In the unsteady light from the fire, it was not possible to confirm her suspicion that he was blushing.
was alive, and he was here. Nothing else mattered. She moved to his side; he straightened. She reached up a hand, a curious shyness overtaking her, and touched his cheek. Drustan brought her fingers to his lips, a moment only, then released her and stepped back. In the unsteady light from the fire, it was not possible to confirm her suspicion that he was blushing.
“More wood,” Faolan snapped.
“Build up the fire. If you can find anything else that will burn, bring it. Ana, stay by the fire; don’t present yourself as a target.”
“Build up the fire. If you can find anything else that will burn, bring it. Ana, stay by the fire; don’t present yourself as a target.”
“I want to help.”
“Rest while you can, Ana,” Drustan said. Her name on his lips was the sweetest balm to the heart. She met his eyes and smiled. His mouth curved in an oddly tentative response before he turned away to help Faolan in the search for fuel. The
two men together were able to drag a heavy pine branch up to the fire; it would burn long. They set more sticks ready for use as brands; they cleared the ground nearby of obstacles that might cause a man or woman to trip and become vulnerable. Wolves target the weakest; in Ana’s mind there was no doubt at all that this was herself.
two men together were able to drag a heavy pine branch up to the fire; it would burn long. They set more sticks ready for use as brands; they cleared the ground nearby of obstacles that might cause a man or woman to trip and become vulnerable. Wolves target the weakest; in Ana’s mind there was no doubt at all that this was herself.
“Now we wait,” Faolan said, returning to her side. He had a
hand clasped over his shoulder, and he was trying to disguise a limp.
hand clasped over his shoulder, and he was trying to disguise a limp.
“Faolan, you’re hurt! Let me see—”
“It’s a scratch. I won’t die of it. But they’ll have scented blood. That will keep them here, fire or no fire, until the sky begins to lighten. Just stay calm and be alert. Now that our friend here has decided to grace us with his presence, we have some chance of surviving until morning.”
His manner was strange, almost offensive. “You called him here yourself,” Ana said.
“I see them moving,” Drustan murmured. “Ana, I don’t want you trying to fight. Stay behind me; I’ll make sure they don’t harm you—”
“Don’t give her orders.” Faolan’s voice was cold as stone. “She’s capable of helping us; let her do it.”
A little silence. Ana peered downhill in the half-dark. The shadowy forms
had made ground; she could see the red glint of the flame in their eyes. Fear flooded back. It was a long time until morning. “Please don’t argue,” she said in a small voice, and stooped to take another stick from the fire.
had made ground; she could see the red glint of the flame in their eyes. Fear flooded back. It was a long time until morning. “Please don’t argue,” she said in a small voice, and stooped to take another stick from the fire.
The leader of the pack surged forward, baying, and it all began again. She lost the awareness of time passing. It felt endless: a cacophony of growling and whining, the curses
and shouts of the two men, her own pathetic attempt to deter the attackers with a voice grown hoarse and breathless. The heavy, splintery feeling of the fire stick in her hand, the heat scorching her face, the sight of Drustan, not far off, a brand in each hand, tossing them up and catching them in a whirling display that seemed to send the animals around him into a daze. Of the three, he seemed
least in danger of attack. Ana edged around to Faolan’s side of the fire. Three wolves confronted him, long muzzles, bared teeth, slavering tongues and tense, anticipatory bodies. Faolan was standing awkwardly, favoring one leg, sweeping his firebrand two-handed before him. The wolves watched it closely; they seemed to be calculating the moment for a strike. Ana thrust her own brand forward, squinting
against a shower of sparks. Her nose hurt, her eyes stung, her vision was blurring.
and shouts of the two men, her own pathetic attempt to deter the attackers with a voice grown hoarse and breathless. The heavy, splintery feeling of the fire stick in her hand, the heat scorching her face, the sight of Drustan, not far off, a brand in each hand, tossing them up and catching them in a whirling display that seemed to send the animals around him into a daze. Of the three, he seemed
least in danger of attack. Ana edged around to Faolan’s side of the fire. Three wolves confronted him, long muzzles, bared teeth, slavering tongues and tense, anticipatory bodies. Faolan was standing awkwardly, favoring one leg, sweeping his firebrand two-handed before him. The wolves watched it closely; they seemed to be calculating the moment for a strike. Ana thrust her own brand forward, squinting
against a shower of sparks. Her nose hurt, her eyes stung, her vision was blurring.
“Leave him alone!” she screamed at the attackers. “Get away! Go! Go!” and swept the fire stick across one way and the other. The eyes of the wolves moved to her, intent, thoughtful, and quite without pity.
“Best do what he said.” Faolan’s voice was a gasp. “Let him defend you … best chance …”
“You’re injured,”
Ana muttered. “You can hardly stand up.”
Ana muttered. “You can hardly stand up.”
“Go … other side … Drustan …”
“Stop it!” she snapped. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Partners. Just keep going. The sun has to come up sometime.”
For a while it seemed as if they might perhaps do that, maintain the fight until dawn came to their rescue. Sometimes the wolves fell back and there was a chance to catch the breath, to push the log farther into
the fire, to snatch a new brand. But those brief respites grew shorter and less frequent. Faolan was struggling more and more, his breathing harsh and labored, his injured leg less steady as each wave of assailants came forward. Drustan looked weary; his face was chalk-white in the moonlight, his eyes shadowed. Ana felt exhaustion dragging through every part of her body. It was an effort to breathe,
hard to stand up, a trial to summon the strength even to lift a stick from the fire. Beyond the circle of light cast by their small blaze, the number of wolves seemed greater every time she looked. Was the sky beginning to lighten? She told herself there was a tinge of warmer color in the slate-gray of the summer night. She knew it was not true.
the fire, to snatch a new brand. But those brief respites grew shorter and less frequent. Faolan was struggling more and more, his breathing harsh and labored, his injured leg less steady as each wave of assailants came forward. Drustan looked weary; his face was chalk-white in the moonlight, his eyes shadowed. Ana felt exhaustion dragging through every part of her body. It was an effort to breathe,
hard to stand up, a trial to summon the strength even to lift a stick from the fire. Beyond the circle of light cast by their small blaze, the number of wolves seemed greater every time she looked. Was the sky beginning to lighten? She told herself there was a tinge of warmer color in the slate-gray of the summer night. She knew it was not true.
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