Then the clouds returned, covering the moon. Taking Tae by the arm Connavar led her further into the trees, coming at last to a thick section of bramble bushes. Dropping to their bellies they wormed their way into the thicket. Tae's heart was beating wildly, and it seemed to her that her breathing was so loud it must be heard. She tried to control it. Raindrops began to fall around them, then lightning flashed to the south. A few seconds later a great roll of thunder burst over the woods, and the rain became a torrent. Partly sheltered in the brambles the two fugitives lay very still.
Time drifted by. Tae slept for a while, and when she woke she saw that Connavar was sleeping beside her. He awoke as she moved, and smiled at her. 'Have they gone?' she mouthed.
'I don't think so. But they'll be cold, wet, and very anxious by now. Stay silent.' He closed his eyes once more, resting his head on his arm.
Moments later, as the rain eased, they heard men moving through the woods, heading back towards the bay. Then a voice called out.
'I will find out who you are, Rigante. And when I do I will come for you. I swear, by the blood of Wotan, I will not rest until your head sits on a lance outside my brother's house.'
Tae glanced at Connavar, and saw that he was smiling.
'What is there to smile about?' she whispered.
'A man should always have good enemies. It keeps him strong.'
They hid for another hour; then, just as dawn was tinting the sky, they emerged from the brambles. The woods were silent and they made their way back towards the north.
They were met on the hillside by Fiallach and fifty riders. Parax was with them. Fiallach leapt from his horse and ran to Tae. 'Did they harm you?' he asked.
'They did not have time. Connavar was there. He killed the men who held me.'
'I am grateful to you, Connavar,' said the big man, 'for saving my future wife.'
'I will not be your wife, Fiallach,' said Tae, gently. 'I adore you as my friend and my mentor. But I will not walk the tree with you.'
Fiallach licked his lips and stood silent for a moment. 'But I love you,' he said, at last.
When she spoke there was no trace of the girl she had been. Her words carried quiet authority, and even regret. 'And I love you, my friend. If it was in my power to love you the way you desire I would do so. But it is not. Now I must get back to Seven Willows. There is much work to be done.' She walked away from him. A rider offered her his pony and she accepted with a smile, vaulting to the saddle and riding down the slope.
Fiallach turned to Conn, and sighed. 'Should have listened to you,' he said.
'It would have changed nothing,' said Conn. 'Gate towers cannot be built in a day. The man who caused this was Phaeton.' Conn told the giant how Parax had found the keel marks and the tracks. Fiallach's face turned pale with fury.
'He it was who told us of the lion, which drew me and my men from Seven Willows.'
'With fresh horses you should be able to catch him,' suggested Conn.
'And catch him I will,' swore Fiallach. But he did not move. His pale eyes held Conn's gaze. 'Tell me there is nothing between you and Tae, and I will offer you my hand in friendship.'
'I shall ask her to walk the tree with me,' said Conn, and, though he disliked the man, he was saddened by the pain his words caused. Having lost Arian he knew what Fiallach was suffering.
'Aye, I thought it was you at the root of my trouble. You have robbed me of the one joy in my life. One day we will have a reckoning. Not today. My heart is too heavy. I will find Phaeton, and bring him back for trial.'
'Just kill him,' said Conn. 'I don't want to see his face again.'
The raiders had killed thirty-one of the villagers: twenty-two men, five women and four children. Their bodies were laid out in a line, their faces covered by cloaks or blankets. The fire had been brought under control, mainly by the powerful rain of the night before, and people were picking their way through the scorched remains, seeking items that might have escaped the blaze.
Standing at the main gates Conn scanned their faces. All wore the same blank, resigned expression. Raiders came, and raiders went. Life had to go on. But it would move on now, heavy with sorrow. Conn saw Tae organizing people, giving out orders. He moved across to her. 'You should rest a while,' he said.
'I will rest later. This is my settlement now, Connavar. I answer for it.'
'I know.' He saw her glance at the line of bodies. The first in that line, her face covered by a gold-edged cloth, was the Lady Llysona. Tae swallowed hard, and for a moment he thought she would weep. Instead she strode away to a group of waiting men. 'We need fresh timber,' she told them. 'Oras, you organize work parties.'
'Yes, my lady.'
She turned to another man. 'Garon, I want you to see that those who have lost their homes have somewhere to sleep tonight.'
'It will be as you say, Lady.' He bowed and backed away.
'What can I do to help?' asked Conn.
'There is a druid who lives in the northern hills. In a high cave close to an oak grove. Fetch him here so that we may bless our dead.'
Conn bowed and moved out towards the gates. Parax rode in, followed by several of Fiallach's men. Conn asked one of the riders if he could borrow his mount. The man nodded absently and slid from the saddle. Then he wandered off to one of the burnt-out buildings. Before he reached it he paused before the line of bodies. He gave a great cry and ran to the corpse of a young woman, pulling the cloak from her face and hugging the body to him.
Conn mounted his pony and gestured to Parax to follow him. The old man rode alongside and Conn told him their mission. 'Shouldn't be hard to find,' said Parax. Then he sighed. 'A black day, Connavar.'
'Aye. Yet it could have been worse.'
'What happened in the woods?'
'I found her and brought her out,' answered Conn, simply.
'I think there's more to it than that.'
'Only blood, Parax. And death. How could a cultured man like Phaeton bring such casual destruction on a people he had lived among? Did you see evil in him?'
'No. But then who could? He was friendly and kind to us. I saw a golden goblet once that the old king bought. Beautiful thing. One day he dropped it, and it struck the edge of the table. Underneath a thin layer of gold it was lead. Almost worthless. I guess Phaeton is like that. Seems a shame. I liked him.'
'So did I.'
As they rode they saw the druid walking down towards them, his white robe glinting in the sunlight. He was an elderly man, with long, white wispy hair and a drooping moustache.
'I saw the fires,' he said. 'Are there many dead?'
'Around thirty,' said Conn. 'They killed the Lady Llysona.'
The druid nodded. 'A hard woman. I did not take to her. Is her daughter safe?'
'Yes, she is organizing the rebuilding.'
'Go back and tell her I am on my way.'
'You can ride behind me,' Conn offered.
'I'll walk,' said the druid. 'It will give me more time to pray for the dead.'
Throughout the long day Conn worked alongside the people of the settlement, dragging away half-burned timbers, bringing in fresh wood from the northern woods. He rested briefly with a score of men at noon, and sat silently as they talked around him. 'Why us?' was the most common comment. Conn was wise enough to know that this was not the time for an answer. Ten years of relative safety had made them complacent. When the raiders attacked there was no sentry on the wall and the settlement gates were open.
Would they learn, he wondered?
For a while. Then the years would pass ...
It is not worth thinking about, he decided.
He found his mind wandering to his last conversation with Ostaran. The Perdii had been defeated, and were about to be annihilated. 'Will it be the Gath next?' Conn had asked him.
'Of course not. We are allies to the people of Stone.'
'Were the Perdii not Jasaray's allies last year?'
'You make for depressing company, my friend.
What would the people of Stone want from us?'
Ostaran could not see it, though it lay revealed before him like a blood-drenched map. The people of Stone wanted it all. They would not be content until all the inhabited lands were under their sway. 'Look,' said Conn, taking a stick and sketching a line on the damp earth. 'These are the lands of the Gath and Ostro. They are too far from Stone, and the areas they control, for an invading force to be equipped and supplied for a push towards the sea. But here, nestling between them like an arrowhead, are the lands of the Perdii. Rich farmland, thousands of cattle and horses. They will move into this land, establish towns and fortresses. From here they can strike out where they will.'
'But why should they?' asked Ostaran.
'Because they must. It is, for them, an economic necessity. They have a huge standing army. The soldiers need to be paid. Conquest supplies the plunder that makes the generals rich and secures the loyalty of the soldiers. In Gath there are . . . what? . . . ten gold mines?'
'Fourteen now,' said Ostaran. 'And five silver.'
'Then the people of Stone will take them. And who will come to your aid now, Osta? The Addui are destroyed, the Perdii finished.'
'We will need no aid,' said Ostaran. 'We will smash any invading force. The Gath are not like the Perdii. Our fighters are twice as powerful.'
'You can still believe this, after all you have seen? Jasaray's Panthers are well armed and armoured, disciplined and motivated. They will not be broken by a sudden charge, no matter how brave the warriors.'
'You are gloomy today,' put in Ostaran, with a sudden smile. 'We have just won a great victory. Jasaray has given you chests of gold, and the stallions you so desired. My men and I have been paid, and the sun is shining. And let me tell you this, my doom prophet: Jasaray himself assured me he has no plans for further campaigns. He wants to return to Stone and become a scholar again. He says he misses the quiet charm of the university. There! What do you say to that?'
'I will say only this: when the end comes, bring as many warriors as you can to Goriasa. Seek out Garshon the merchant. Remind him of the promise he made to me. Then with his help sail across the water, and ride up to the lands of the Northern Rigante.'
'I tell you what I will do, my friend,' said Ostaran. 'If Jasaray comes, then when we have defeated him, I will send you his head.'
Conn's mind was jerked back to the present as the men around him rose and continued their work. Conn stayed with them until dusk, then sought out Parax. The old man had spent much of the afternoon asleep in Phaeton's house. Conn did not berate him. Parax was not young, and the exertions of the night before had taken their toll on him.
When Conn arrived at the house Parax was frying two large steaks. 'Where is the fat woman?' he asked.
'She was one of the dead,' said Parax, gloomily. 'Phaeton's revenge, eh?'
'I think he liked her,' said Conn. 'She was probably just in the wrong place at the wrong time.'
'As were we - for a while,' said Parax, turning the steaks.
The two men sat in silence and ate the steaks which, though they looked fine, were tough and hard to chew. 'Should have been hung for a few days,' muttered Parax. 'But the meat came from a bull killed by the raiders.'
After he had finished his meal Conn strolled out through the back of the house and washed in a stream that flowed from the north. The water was cold and refreshing. Leaving his weapons at the house he rode back to the remains of the Long Hall. Most of the roof had fallen in, but the storm rains had saved the western section of the hall. He found Tae sitting at the old stone hearth, a fire blazing. She had a blanket around her shoulders, and was staring into the dancing flames.
Conn walked into the ruin and sat opposite her. Her face was streaked with dirt and soot, and the marks of tears showed on her cheeks. 'I am sorry for your loss, Tae,' he said. She nodded, but did not answer. The fire began to die down. Conn added wood.
'You will be leaving tomorrow?' she asked.
'Yes. I will report to the Long Laird. He will send men with seasoned timber for the rebuilding.'
'Safe journey,' she whispered.
'I love you, Tae,' he said suddenly, the words shocking him, for he had not intended to say them.
'I know,' she replied. 'But this is not the time to speak of it.'
'Would you rather be alone now?' he asked.
She shook her head and gave him a wan smile. 'I am alone, whether you are here or not. We are all alone. We are born alone and we die alone. In between we may be touched by love, but we are still alone.'
'Aye, there is truth in that,' he told her. 'But not the complete truth.' Reaching out he took her hand, and gently squeezed it. 'I am here, and with this touch we are one.' Moving alongside her he put his arm around her shoulder and drew her into an embrace. Kissing her head he hugged her to him. 'Not one of the creatures of blood can escape death,' he said. 'We all face it, and succumb to it. It follows us like a dark shadow. Yet if we live in terror of it, then we do not live at all. Yes we are born alone, and yes we will die alone. But in between, Tae, we live. We know joy. I am a lonely man. I think I always have been. But I am not lonely now. Not at this moment.'
Tae said nothing, but he felt her snuggle into him, and he sat quietly, stroking her hair. She fell asleep against his chest. Conn remained, unmoving as time slid by and the fire faded. At last he gently lowered her to the floor, made a pillow of his cloak, and covered her with her blanket. Then he banked the fire and rose, turning towards the door.
There stood Fiallach, a towering figure, his face expressionless.
Conn moved across to him and the two men walked out into the night.
'You found him?' asked Conn.
'Aye, I found him,' answered Fiallach. Lifting a blood-drenched pouch he opened it. He tried to tip the contents into his palm, but they were stuck to the leather. Dipping his fingers into the pouch he pulled forth Phaeton's eyes. They had already begun to shrivel. 'The bastard will be blind in the Void for eternity,' he said.
'He deserves it,' said Conn.
Fiallach put the eyes back into the pouch, then wiped his hand down his leggings. 'How is Tae?'
'Suffering. But she is strong.'
'She is a fine woman, Connavar. Perhaps the finest. She deserves the best of men. Are you the best of men?'
'Who knows?' answered Conn.
'Let us find out,' said Fiallach.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
fiallach looked into the face of his rival and saw no fear, only surprise. 'You want to fight me? Now?' asked Connavar.
'Unless you are too frightened,' Fiallach replied. Ever since the last day of the Games Fiallach had dreamed of pounding the arrogant youngster to the ground. Everything had gone wrong since then. Tae had turned against him, and now the settlement he was expected to protect had been sacked by raiders. He had never forgotten that one moment, when the cold voice had warned him: 'If that blow lands I'll kill you.' It had chilled him to the bone. He should have turned and beaten Connavar to his knees. Instead he had frozen, and been forced to watch his tormentor walk off with Tae.
He had felt her loss in that moment, like a cruel premonition. He remembered a shiver crossing his skin, and the beginning of sorrow weighing on his soul. His love for Tae had been the one constant in his turbulent life. At first he had adored her as a child, his feelings paternal and platonic. He taught her to ride, to shoot a bow, even to handle a longsword. Strong? Of course she was strong. Fiallach had helped to make her that way. And as she came to womanhood his love for her grew even stronger. When she continued to seek out his company, to ride and to hunt, he had believed her feelings for him had grown along with his own for her.
But ever since the Games she had been different, contrary and argumentative. He had heard from his men that Tae was asking questions about Connavar, the Boy who Fought the Bear, the Man who killed the King. Connavar the Warrior.
Connavar ... Connavar ... Connavar ...
What had he ever done that Fiallac
h himself could not have achieved? The answer was nothing at all.
Yet it did not matter. Connavar was distant. She would, in time, have lost her interest in him. But no, the Long Laird saw fit to send the warrior to Seven Willows, and Fiallach had seen the light in Tae's eyes. In truth he had also seen the spectre of his own defeat highlighted there. At thirty-one he was almost old enough to be Tae's father, and he had then begun to realize that she saw him as a paternal figure. A powerful protector, but a man to lean on, never lie beside. The knowledge was almost too painful to bear. It clung to him like an angry dog, sharp teeth in his heart.
Now it was Connavar who had ridden into the woods to rescue Tae from the raiders. And Fiallach was finished. He had never loved another woman. Had he not been drawn off on that lion hunt it would have been he, Fiallach, standing before Tae, sword in hand, to protect her from evil. She might then have seen him in a better light.
But no, even the gods had turned against him, haunting his footsteps with ill luck.
He had returned to Seven Willows, having killed Phaeton, and walked into the ruins of the Long Hall, and there, silhouetted by the dying fire, he saw Tae asleep in the arms of Connavar. Truth to tell they looked perfect together, and Fiallach's heart had finally broken. He had stood silently for almost an hour, watching them, seeing at the last how tenderly Connavar laid her down, making of his cloak a pillow.
There was no way now that he could kill Connavar. Tae was lost to him regardless.
Yet inside him raged a burning desire to hammer his fists into the face of his rival, to knock him to the ground and stand over his unconscious body; to prove to himself that he was superior to the man who stole his love.
His hands were trembling with the need to strike. 'Unless you are too frightened,' he heard himself say.
Connavar smiled. And hit him. The force and speed of the blow surprised Fiallach, but he absorbed its power and moved in, sending a thunderous left into Connavar's cheek. The smaller man did not give way, and the fight commenced.
Sword in the Storm Page 33