Fire Arrow

by Edith Pattou

  Around them the battle continued to rage. The Dungalans who had crawled out from under Sago's net were, now fighting the goat-men who remained. But Brie was unaware of anything save the Sea Dyak sorcerer. His eyes flicked open.

  "Hand me my pole," came a faint whisper, light as a puff of air. "Fish are biting." A smile curled his lips. Then his eyes sought Brie's, his thin fingers wrapping around her hand. "Remember the boy Thom. Watch his thumbnails as he grows," he said clearly. Then his eyes closed and he was dead.

  "Brie," said Hanna, who stood behind her. "Help me with Collun." And as she and Collun had done for Hanna the day before, Brie and Hanna lifted Collun and carried him to a safe place.

  Brie bent anxiously over Collun, her fingers finding his wrist again. "Will he...?" she asked Hanna.

  "It is early to say," said Hanna, but she did not look hopeful.

  "Stay with him," said Brie. Wearily she once more mounted Ciaran. Because of Sago, more than half the gabha army lay dead, and the rest were in disarray without their leader. But the battle was far from over, and Brie and Ciaran went to rejoin the Dungalan army.

  As she rode, Brie heard the high pure call of a battle horn. She looked around, afraid. A small army was emerging from the forest, the sun reflecting off its shields and swords, blinding Brie for a moment. Then she saw the Dungalan standard raised high above them. Brie blinked in amazement. As the army came closer she recognized the man leading it—Ralfe, Prince Durwydd's adviser. The new army merged with the battle-weary old, and soon the remaining goat-men were in full retreat. It was not long before the last of the gabha were fleeing into the foothills.

  ***

  By early evening the battle was over and the heartbreaking task of finding and burying the dead had begun. Most had lost close friends or family, and there was little of celebration in those who remained. Of the Dungalans who had journeyed from Ardara, fourteen had survived the battle, among them Lom, Jacan, Ferg and Gwil, Maire and her brother, and the boy Dil. Along with Sago and the fisherman Henle, the boy Marc, brother to Beith, had fallen, as had four fishermen.

  Monodnock had disappeared, and Brie sent a small search party to look for him. The Ellyl was found in the forest, apparently hiding in a tree. He came down only because he overheard two of the searchers speaking of the enemy's defeat.

  He appeared before Brie disheveled and exhausted, twigs sprouting from his orange hair. At first he could not meet her eyes.

  "Most gracious and generous maiden," he said, gazing at her left shoulder, "allow me to offer my most heartfelt laudation and homage to your stunning rout of a most fearsome and multitudinous foe." Monodnock's eyes shifted to Brie's forehead. "It was a vast and irreparable disappointment to me that I could not stand shoulder to shoulder with you as you swept aside the evil tide."

  "Monodnock...," Brie began, stone-faced.

  "And alas, as it turned out, I could not, uh, I was not able to, uh, obey your mandate, wise as it was, or rather, uh, appeared to be..." The Ellyl suddenly brightened. "However, as Sago did mount his steed, I, uh, had a flash, a vision if you will"—Monodnock warmed to his theme, newly confident—"that this ancient man of power had within him one last burst of magnificence and that to hold him back from his heroic errand would be an incalculably grave error."

  "I see. And did this 'vision' also tell you not to accompany Sago on his 'heroic errand,'" Brie asked, "in spite of the fact that I had ordered you not to leave his side?"

  Monodnock reddened, but blustered on. "Of course, I intended to do as you directed, and was in the process of attempting to procure a steed of my own, when I suddenly sensed that my presence would almost certainly interfere with the, uh, spheres of power encircling the sorcerer. You can see, then, that I did not dare cause any obstruction between him and his desired goat, uh, goal..." Monodnock trailed off. His hair was a spiky jungle and his lanky form trembled with exhaustion from his lengthy vigil in the treetop.

  Brie found herself veering between the urge to laugh out loud and the desire to give Monodnock a severe scolding. However, compassion won out, and she sent the Ellyl, sagging with relief, to find a bite to eat.

  The Dungalan survivors gathered the slain gabha into large heaps and, as was the Dungalan custom with the remains of an enemy, set the mounds aflame, although as the smell wafted over their camp, Brie rather wished they hadn't. She had had enough burning goat flesh to last a lifetime.

  The frayed remnants of Sago's net lay everywhere. Lom saved the largest intact piece he could find to take back to Ardara. The new arrivals listened in amazement to the tale of the Sea Dyak sorcerer's miraculous net.

  Prince Durwydd's adviser Ralfe approached Brie as she helped with the digging of a grave, asking for a private moment of her time. As they walked in the direction of the mountains, Ralfe confided in Brie that just prior to the newly mustered army's departure for the north, he had received a message from Prince Durwydd in Tir a Ceol.

  "Our prince, in so many words, stated that he was abdicating the throne; that he had chosen to make a life for himself in Tir a Ceol and would not be returning." Brie could see that Ralfe was in the grip of some powerful emotions, and she realized that the strongest was a deep shame for the actions of his prince. "I took it upon myself to delay imparting this distressing news to anyone until this moment. It was an egregious act of deceit; still, I have no regrets," he said stoutly. "Furthermore, I now consider myself under arrest for high treason, and do place myself in your custody."

  Brie gaped at the grizzled man. "That's nonsense," she said bluntly. "You acted in the best interests of your army and your country."

  "Notwithstanding, I did not have the authority to mount an army..."

  Brie waved his words aside. "Tell me, Ralfe, is it not unusual for Ellylon to allow a human to live with them?"

  "Prince Durwydd has royal blood, and the Dungalan royal family is known to have some amount of draoicht within them. Perhaps this is why."

  "I see."

  Between them, Brie and Ralfe agreed that now would perhaps not be the best time to tell the Dungalans of their prince's decision.

  "What will happen?" Brie asked. "Who will rule in Durwydd's absence?"

  "There is a young cousin, a boy who lives in the village Pennog. He is young yet to rule," said Ralfe.

  "But he will not lack for loyal and farsighted advisers, of that I am certain," Brie replied with a smile.

  ***

  Throughout the day, as Brie helped dig graves, kindle pyres, and—when she got the chance—care for a still unconscious Collun, she often found herself casting uneasy glances at Sedd Wydyr, which stood glittering against the blue sky. She knew, as they all knew, that although the gabha had been defeated, Balor still lived. Even if he did not show himself, he lived.

  Lorn suggested that Balor must have fled once he saw the battle was lost. Brie said nothing, but she knew that was not true. On the other hand, she could feel no trace of Balor, even when she held the fire arrow and boldly sought him with her mind. All she got was a bad case of blurred vision for her efforts.

  "He must have returned to Scath, taking the man Bricriu with him," Hanna suggested, sitting with Brie while she waited for her eyesight to return to normal. Collun lay nearby, his condition unchanged, and Fara was seated beside Brie, trying to dislodge the bandage Hanna had fashioned for the gash on her neck.

  Brie shook her head, dissatisfied. "We will have to search Sedd Wydyr," she said.

  Leaving Aelwyn to watch over Collun, Brie led the search of the crystal fortress. Using makeshift ladders to scale the outer wall, several Dungalans opened the gate from the inside for the rest of the search party. The inside of the castle was as opulent and shining as the outside, yet it was cold, devoid of any humanity. They searched the entire structure, every room, every twisting corridor, even out through the underground tunnel that exited through the door in the side of the bluff, but they found no trace of life. They did find another tunnel, a long one that led them to an entrance hidden d
eep in the foothills, and most were satisfied that Balor must have escaped through this route.

  But Brie was not. She alone had felt Balor's power and could not conceive of him fleeing in such a way.

  They buried Sago where he had fallen on the battle plain. First, as Hanna and Brie had done for Yldir, they crafted a small boat-shaped casket. They laid the fallen sorcerer in the boat, along with his empty amhantar, a makeshift fishing pole Brie had made, a small piece of the fishing net, and a skin bag of wine. The small piece of wood from the boat Gor-gwynt they placed in his open palm. Someone had gone out on the white stone beach, in spite of the white moths, and found a large smooth rock to use as a memory stone for Sago. As Hanna etched words onto the stone, Brie noticed a number of seabirds clustered overhead, some just hanging there, others gliding in tight circles. When they lowered the boat-casket into the earth, a fisherman from Ardara brought out a small pipe and played a short melody that Brie recognized as one of Sago's favorite nonsense songs, about a whitebelly and a plover. The seabirds above had grown in number, a large hovering cloud of whites and blacks and browns.

  As the music ended, the seabirds cried out and then, almost as a solid mass, they flew away.

  As the birds disappeared over the sea, Brie heard someone say with a sigh, "With Yldir and Sago gone, I'm thinking that's the last of the Sea Dyak sorcerers."

  "Actually, no," Brie found herself saying, "I don't think so."

  Several faces turned to her, questioning.

  And Brie told them what Sago had said to her about the boy Thom who lived in the town of Mira, and about his thumbnails.

  "I know the lad," said a fisherman from Mira in wonderment, "and a fine young fisherman he's already showing himself to be. Father's that proud of him. Wait until he hears of this..."

  Because many of the Dungalans were uneasy near the moth-infested white beach, not to mention the looming, empty fortress of Sedd Wydyr, Lom suggested they move camp to their old site on the other side of the forest.

  And so they finished their burying and burning and wearily traveled back through the trees, glad to see the last of Sedd Wydyr and its bloodstained battlefield.

  The newly arrived Dungalan army had brought with them fresh provisions, and that night Hanna oversaw the cooking of an impressive feast. There was also a new supply of good Dungalan mead, and as the evening wore on the somber mood of the Dungalans began to lighten.

  They were just finishing a delicious medlar comfit when a Dungalan who had ridden with the original army rose to his feet, his cup of mead upraised. Brie couldn't remember his name, but she knew he was a fisherman from the small town of Clibden with a boat he called Bream. The flames from the cooking fires lit his face and he called out, loud, "To Bren-huan!" And there came a great yelling and clapping.

  Brie blushed. For a mortified moment she was afraid they were going to ask for a speech, but then Hanna stood and added her own toast to that of the fisherman from Clibden. She compared Brie's bravery to that of Queen Fionna and said that when Brie had led them to battle she had looked like a Dungalan war goddess, her braids flying behind her like bolts of golden lightning. When Hanna finished, there were more cheers and cups being refilled. After that came many rounds of toasts to all the many acts of bravery and comradeship during battle. Monodnock tipsily even offered a toast to himself, taking credit for dispatching Sago on his miraculous errand. It was late by the time the assembled companions began drifting off to their bedrolls.

  Brie, Hanna, and Silien remained sitting by their campfire, Collun lying an arm's length from them. He was still unconscious, though Hanna said the wound to the side of his head looked better. But she could not say more.

  "The truth, Hanna," said Brie, her face intent. "Is Collun going to recover?"

  "I wish I had an answer, Biri. But even if his body heals, head wounds are difficult. It may be that his wits will be affected."

  Brie's stomach tightened.

  "He may be as a child, Biri," Hanna said gently.

  Like a kesil, Brie thought, thinking of the handful of wandering wild forest men in Eirren. She stared at Collun's bandaged head. "Can we do nothing? Silien?"

  The Ellyl shook his head. "The healing waters of Tir a Ceol cannot help hurts of the mind. I am sorry."

  "Biri," Hanna said, her voice brisk, "your hand needs more of that mallow salve." Brie looked down at her blistered, oozing palm, the one that had wielded the fire arrow. The strip of cloth with which Collun had bound her hand had come loose.

  Hanna had Collun's wallet of herbs and, with Brie's help, soon had made a small amount of the salve, which she applied to Brie's hand. The salve stung and soothed at the same time. But Brie noticed that Hanna's eyelids were drooping and that Silien had already dozed off.

  "Get some sleep, Hanna," Brie said. "I'll watch Collun."

  "Only if you promise to wake me in a few hours," Hanna murmured.

  Brie brewed a pan of cyffroi, then reached for her bow with its broken string. She restrung it with a string she had borrowed from one of the Dungalan archers. Her quiver was empty except for the fire arrow; when her hand was better she would make new arrows. Idly, she took out the fire arrow. It hummed lightly against her unburnt hand. Then she looked at the story band at the very bottom of the shaft.

  Brie caught her breath. The story band slowly unraveled itself, revealing the story of the Dungalan battle against the gabha. Hypnotized, Brie watched the events unfold in moving, vivid pictures. When she came to the part where Sago was run through by the gabha general's horns, tears welled in her eyes. And when Collun fell, his head crushed, the tears spilled over, wetting her cheeks. Then came the grave digging, the smoke from the pyres and the uneasy waiting by Collun's unconscious body.

  "Where is Balor?" Brie whispered through her tears, clutching the arrow.

  The white stone beach flashed in front of Brie's eyes, luminous in the moonlight, pulsing faintly.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The Fire Arrow

  Brie abruptly stood, then realized she could not see. Stuffing the arrow in her quiver and feeling for her bow, Brie called out softly, "Fara?"

  She felt the furry body of the faol brush against her legs. "Guide me, Fara. I cannot see. I wish to find Ciaran, to watch Collun. And then I need to go to the stone beach."

  Fara began to move forward and Brie kept near the faol by resting her hand on the animal's back. Fara had long since rid herself of the bandage on her neck and Brie could feel the puckered edges of the faol's wound.

  "Brie?" It was Aelwyn's voice.

  Brie stopped short, turning her face toward the voice.

  "I could not sleep. How is Collun?"

  "The same," Brie answered, keeping her voice casual. "Aelwyn, would you do me a favor and sit with him? I, uh, need to look for mallow, in the forest. It's for burn salve..." She trailed off weakly, hoping Aelwyn would not ask questions.

  "Yes, of course. But..." There was curiosity in the wvll's voice.

  "It should not take long. Thank you." Brie walked forward, her hand still on Fara's back, trying to move with the assurance of one who can see. "To the beach, Fara," Brie whispered.

  Brie felt the branches of the trees around her as they entered the forest, but Fara guided her surely, and she did not stumble or fall.

  She could tell the moment they emerged from the forest: the moonlight brightening the dimness of her sight, the air on her face, and the strong smell of the sea. They moved quickly across the battlefield, and as they were making their way through the ruins near the shore, Brie's sight began to return. By the time they stepped onto the white stone beach her vision had returned to normal. She could clearly see the moths that swarmed up with each step. There were more than she remembered, and she had to keep waving her hand in front of her face to keep them from lining her lips and closing her nostrils. Fara playfully swatted at a few, but because there were so many she soon tired of the game.

  Suddenly unsure, Brie gazed around, still waving away the moth
s. The moon was so bright that except for the dun color of the sky it might have been day. Brie saw no sign of Balor.

  She moved closer to the water and the number of moths began to diminish. Restlessly her eyes scanned the bluff, the glittering fortress, the battlefield, and then the beach and across the sea.

  Squinting, she took several steps closer to the water, until it was lapping the tips of her boots. There was a long jagged line of darkness resting on the horizon, a deeper dark than the murky night sky, and Brie stared at it until her eyes hurt. The darkness stretched left and right almost as far as she could see. At first she was puzzled; then vague, uneasy fears began stirring in her.

  She stood very still, her body rigid. Fara had seen the darkness, too, and let out a low sound. Together they watched as the darkness grew larger and moved closer.

  Boats. Hundreds and hundreds of boats. The swollen moon shone on them as brightly as a sky full of torches. Brie could make out the arching long necks of the prows of long boats with bloodred sails billowing above. They looked like a fleet of winged sea serpents splitting the waves, bearing down on the coast of Dungal.

  She had a sudden tingling sensation on the skin of her neck and arms. Someone was nearby. Almost involuntarily Brie looked up, and there, standing at the tip of the bluff above, was Balor. He gazed straight out to sea, at the approaching boats, and he wore golden armor, burnished, dazzling in the full moon. His head was covered by a resplendent war helmet with the guise of a bird of prey rising in radiant gold from his forehead. Because of the way he stood, Brie could see that across the torso of the golden mail was a black tunic. In the center of the tunic, woven of impossibly bright threads, was a goldenhawk.

  He did not turn his face toward Brie, but he knew she was there.

  Brie looked back at the boats. They had dropped their sails and were now being rowed. Each boat was crowded with morgs—there were more standing than sitting at the oars—a ghastly silent horde, some hooded, some baring their skeletal heads. She suddenly remembered that the morgs who attacked Collun at Cuillean's dun had come by boat.