Fire Arrow (13 page)

"Water had begun spouting. Fionna felt panic rise in her. She was too young, she should never have tried; she should have run for help. But it was too late. She began to picture the dam giving way and all the water she could feel pressing against it on the other side would pour through and the village of Mira would be overwhelmed and all its villagers drowned. And Sedd Brennhin, even that could well be washed away, with all her family: sisters, mother, and father...

"Fionna took a very deep breath and put all of herself, body and spirit, into holding, building, strengthening the dam. Light exploded in her head and she felt herself very near death, but she held on. And then the dam was whole and strong and unbroken. Fionna let out a small sigh and collapsed at the foot of the dam.

"They found her there after the storm, half-dead and half-witted. They took her to the local Sea Dyak sorcerer. He brought all his healing power to bear. Worked over her for fourteen days and nights. But it still took her a full year to recover.

"All her hair fell out, they say. When it grew back it was pure white, the gold was gone. She stayed inside her room at Sedd Brennhin for one entire year. After that, she did not use draoicht. No one knew if it was because the effort of holding back the flood had drained it all out of her, or if she simply chose never to use it again."

Brie was silent. "What happened after? How did she become queen?"

They had finished their meal, and Hanna moved to the fire, removing a coal to light her pipe. She pressed the hot ember into the tobacco with a calloused thumb. A perfect smoke ring emerged from her mouth.

"Well, as I said before, Fionna was beautiful, too beautiful for anyone's good, even with her pure white hair. When she grew older it was the kind of beauty men make fools of themselves over, fighting each other and such nonsense. Fionna hated all that. Tried to hide her beauty, wore plain clothes, shawls half over her face, once she even cut her white hair close to the head like a man's. None of it did any good. Finally she got fed up and ran off. Disappeared for more than five years. No one knew where she went. Some guessed Eirren. Others thought she'd disguised herself and actually become a Traveler, roaming about Dungal.

"She never told anyone where she had been during those five years. When she returned she seemed to have settled down a bit. She was still beautiful, but she didn't have that same wild beauty. She took a Dungalan husband before too long. A fisherman. They had a son—a wild lad he turned out to be. No one could rein that one in."

"But when did she become queen?"

"Oh, that was later. Her mother ruled for many years, but then was taken by a fever that also took Fionna's older sister, so the crown fell to Fionna. She lived a long life and was said to have been more than one hundred years old when she died.

"When she got too old to rule, she handed the crown to her nephew Durwydd; her own son had long since disappeared, run away to sea and was presumed to be dead. She retired to a small fishing village up north."

Innumerable smoke circles were spinning among the rafters. Hanna watched them with an air of satisfaction.

"She was a great queen, revered by the people of Dungal. I'm afraid her nephew Durwydd takes after Fionna but little."

"How is that?"

"He's weak-minded, afraid to make decisions. This summer there've been problems with drought, and the fishing is poor. Prince Durwydd sits in Sedd Brennhin, wringing his hands and hoping the problems will go away." Frowning slightly, Hanna refilled her pipe. "Ah well, I suppose there, could be worse rulers. He is a good man at heart."

***

The following day as Brie made new arrows for her quiver and Hanna fed a bottle to a newly born lamb that had lost its mother, Hanna said, "When you were sick, Biri, you called out a name, several times."

"What name?" asked Brie.

"Collun."

"Oh." She colored slightly. "He is a friend."

"Is he also Wurme-killer?"

"You know of the wurme?"

"Even in Dungal, songs have been sung of Wurme-killer. Remember, the Isle of Thule is not so very far from the northern tip of Dungal. There is a strong current and whirlpool, called Corryvrecken, which keep Scathians from our shores. But we did not know if even the strongest whirlpool would hamper the progress of Naid should it have chosen to leave Thule." She paused. "There was also word of a woman warrior who rode with the son of Cuillean." Hanna was looking straight at Brie.

"It was Collun who killed the Wurme," Brie said. "And bears the scars."

Hanna was not listening. "You have come to Dungal bearing a fire arrow. I wonder..."

"What?"

"I do not know. Perhaps you have come here for something beyond your own vengeance."

Brie shifted in her chair, uncomfortable. She leaned over to set her bowl of porridge on the floor for Fara to finish, wondering if Hanna, like Collun, disapproved of her quest.

Fara finished the porridge and went to the hearth, where the dogs lay. Brie was surprised to see her stalk over to Jip. With the air of one bestowing a great favor, she settled beside the dog. Jip stirred, lifted an eyelid, then returned to sleep.

 

The day came when Brie could wait no longer. Hanna frowned, saying her leg needed more time to heal, but Brie shook her head. She said it was because she feared losing Bricriu's trail, but, in truth, she did not; she was certain she would find him in the bog with her father's killers.

Because Hanna was a Traveler, she had journeyed through the bog and its surrounding area and so was able to tell Brie what she would find there. She also told Brie of the powerful sorcerer, Yldir, who lived as a hermit at the center of the bog.

"I am half-inclined to journey with you," said Hanna reflectively. "I have always wanted to lay eyes on the sorcerer Yldir. But I cannot. The farmer Tharda will be coming at the end of the moon cycle with his two sons and their dogs to guide the flock back to his sheep farm. I must stay until then. Then I go to the coastal village Ardara."

"Where the fisherman Jacan lives."

"Yes. And though as Traveler I have no home, I have a soft spot for Ardara for it is where I spent part of my childhood."

"Hanna, if I should not..."—Brie paused—"make it to Ardara, will you bear the news of his daughter to Jacan?"

"I will. You have done well with your lessons," Hanna added with an approving look. "You are beginning to sound almost like a native Dungalan."

"You are a good teacher," replied Brie, pleased with the compliment.

"But as for going into Bog Maglu, well, I've known sheep with more sense than that."

"I must."

Hanna shrugged. "Then we may or we may not meet again."

Brie nodded, but she could not see beyond Bog Maglu. She suddenly reached over and hugged Hanna, surprising the older woman. "Thank you, Hanna," she said softly. The dogs wagged their tails wildly, licking Brie's face as she bent down to give them an affectionate farewell pat. Fara touched noses with both dogs with an air of queenly forbearance, then flicked her tail in Hanna's direction. Brie and the faol left the havotty.

***

Hanna had told Brie that Bog Maglu was not one bog but many, stretching many leagues across the lower belly of Dungal. At the heart of the vast bogland did lie a single bog, which was called Maglu, its many layered blanket of peat covering ancient waters. The standing stones called the stones of memory thrust out of the water at the very center of Maglu.

Brie had left the crutch Hanna carved for her at the havotty, and during the early days of her journey- her leg ached; by the end of a day's walking she was exhausted, with barely the energy to start a fire. But with each day her strength began to return, and by the time she came to the bogland she limped only slightly.

She came across an occasional sheep carcass, the flesh mostly gone and the bones bleaching white in the summer sun. But though she kept a vigilant eye out for gabha, she saw no one.

She had been traveling almost a fortnight when Brie noticed the ground beginning to change. At first it grew softer, spongier. Then damp patches started to appear. The farther she went the more waterlogged the ground became, until she was sinking to her ankles in a combination of water and mud. The terrain was flat, treeless.

Brie could not imagine a more forsaken place. There was no animal life; indeed, the only sign of life at all, aside from herself and Fara, were the midges, clouds of them hovering around her face. They did not bite but made a low humming sound that began to prey on Brie's already taut nerves.

In the Blue Stack Mountains, Brie had felt alone, but there had been life all around: soaring kestrels, small brown hares emerging from their holes, an occasional deer, vibrantly colored wildflowers, and stately pine trees. Here in the bogland was nothing but the reek of death and decay.

There was nowhere dry to sit, so she ate her meals crouching on the soggy ground, her boots almost completely submerged in water.

Nor was there anywhere dry enough to make camp, so Brie slept little, catching brief catnaps in that same crouching position. She was continually bedeviled by a thorned plant with black berries, which tore at her damp leggings, and she often blundered into deep patches of brackish water, once sinking all the way to her waist. Fara was able to stay on the bog's surface, barely dampening her paws.

One night Brie was startled by occasional flashes of light from will-o'-the-wisps—small clouds of bog gas that would spontaneously light, burn a few moments, and then disappear. Brie had seen will-o'-the-wisps back in Eirren, but never so many and on such eerie terrain. Fara made a game of leaping at them and once almost slid into a large pool of water.

By the time dawn came, Brie was covered with mud and her nerves were strung tight. In the pale light she spotted a small cluster of buildings some distance away. The hamlet of Muckish, she supposed. Hanna had told her of this small enclave of farmers who harvested the delicate yellow cymlu-berries that thrived in bogs. Brie heaved a sigh of relief. She had begun to doubt the possibility of ever coming across human habitation.

Fara, who had loped ahead, let out a sound. Wearily Brie squelched over to her and saw that the faol had found a raised wooden walkway. In one direction the walkway stretched ahead of them toward the buildings and in the other it snaked away to the north. Brie clambered up onto the track.

It was a great relief to be able to raise her legs without the bog sucking at each footfall. She was sorely tempted to curl up on the wooden planking and go to sleep, but she kept moving, her eyes fixed on the nearest building.

She stumbled to the small wooden door of the house, and before she could knock, it was opened by a gaunt woman in a berry-stained overall. The woman's eyes widened, but she silently guided Brie around to the back of the building, gesturing toward a wooden screen, behind which stood a tub filled with water. She spoke several sentences in Dungalan.

From her lessons with Hanna, Brie recognized the word for wash, and she gratefully began stripping off her mud-encrusted outer clothing.

"I do not speak your language well," Brie said.

The woman shook her head, indicating she did not understand Brie. She handed Brie a clean cloth with which to dry herself and then disappeared.

Sleepily Brie washed off as much of the mud as she could. Dressed in clean clothes from her pack, she emerged from behind the screen. The woman reappeared and gestured Brie into the house, where she was given a simple meal of bread and cheese, followed by a small bowl of cymlu-berries and cream. Brie had never tasted the fruit before and found it delicious. She used her halting Dungalan to express her pleasure in the meal as Fara leaped into Brie's lap and finished the cream at the bottom of the bowl.

When Brie had finished, the woman pointed to a pallet in a corner of the room. Brie crossed to it and, placing her quiver, bow, and pack next to her, was asleep almost as soon as her head reached the small woven pillow. Fara settled herself at Brie's shoulder.

When she woke, Brie saw that the woman's husband had returned. It turned out that he spoke a little Eirrenian, and using an awkward mixture of the two languages, Brie was able to convey her gratitude for their hospitality. Then she asked about Bricriu. The man nodded and described an abandoned hut some distance from the berry farmers that had been occupied by five men. They were Scathians, the man thought, and he said he had seen a man fitting Bricriu's description join them at the hut.

With barely suppressed excitement, Brie described her father's murderers, the three Scathians she sought. Though the berry farmer said he had not seen them up close, he said none of the men wore an eye-patch, but two of the Scathians roughly matched Brie's descriptions.

"We know not why they came here. But they did not bother us, and we did not bother them," the man said in broken Eirrenian.

"How long have they been here?"

"Many moon cycles. Five perhaps. But they are gone now. With the man with bad leg, they left."

Brie rose, her body tense. "When?"

"Two days maybe, they go."

"What direction?"

"To the center. To Maglu."

Shouldering her pack and quiver, Brie was already at the door when she remembered herself and tried to offer silver coins to the couple for their hospitality. But they would not take them.

Brie made her way on the wooden planking for some distance, passing through the farmholds of the berry farmers. Stretching on either side of her were vast tracts of brilliant yellow cymlu-berries floating in water. Brie could see the farmers wading through the berries in their black hip boots.

When the berry fields were behind her, Brie had to leave the walkway. She plunged regretfully back into the mud and water.

She knew Maglu when she came to it. It was different from the bogland she had been traveling through. This was a raised bog, with a carpet of peat and humus that floated on top of deep water. The mat of peat was thick, an arm's length deep in some places, and it easily supported a man's weight. Dwarf larch and spruce trees grew out of the mat, reaching no higher than Brie's shoulder. It was like a floating miniature forest.