Warrior Daughter

by Paisley, Janet

  ‘I will accept the honour,’ he protested, ‘only if Skaaha wishes to give it.’

  Skaaha held up a hand to silence him. Her eyes had not left Terra's. This had nothing to do with what she wished. It was a test of power, a battle of will. Loving Ruan, she had paid the first honour easily, her hands arousing him. Equally easily, she paid the third honour, drawing him deep into her womanhood. But, since Beltane, she had avoided this. Her friend had guessed, or knew. Truly, she was a witch.

  The forfeit was not complete. Everyone except Terra held their breath, waiting for the third and final part. Skaaha, mesmerized by the Icenian's eyes, read the thought before Terra spoke the words.

  ‘You will pay the debt,’ she said, ‘where we can witness it.’

  Skaaha swallowed anger and panic. Already, her stomach heaved, remembering Cut-eye. But she wouldn't lose face. ‘I will pay the debt,’ she repeated grimly. ‘Move the table.’ Rapidly, the low table was whisked away. Skaaha stood, held out a hand to draw Hiko into the centre of the room. Cheering, the others quickly disrobed them and settled down, complete with ale or mead, and titbits, to watch. Out on the field, Hiko had been confident, certain of his role. Now he seemed discomfited. To put him at ease, Skaaha moved in close, putting her arms round his neck, glad of the familiarity of skin from that afternoon, smelling the faint tang of horse.

  ‘You don't have to do this,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘I can refuse.’ That was true. It would save face, but her humiliation would be great. He would be mocked, and Terra would just replace him with one of the others. There was only one way to proceed, begin as if the truth of intimacy was untainted and hope it became so.

  ‘I want to honour you,’ she murmured, letting her mouth brush his throat. ‘And I have ghosts’ – her lips touched his – ‘which you can help me lay.’ His mouth tasted of honeyed mead. Kissing soon sparked desire in them both. Urged on by raucous catcalls, Skaaha let her fingers track the bone of his shoulderblades and spine, the firm flesh of his buttocks. She allowed his hands, firm and warm on her skin, to explore at will, finding her responses, rousing his own.

  Again they were on the track, wheels spinning, hooves thundering in their ears, gripping on to each other. Passion flared. At the point where it must grow into coupling or fade, she put her palm flat against his chest, over his heartbeat. ‘Let me serve you now,’ she breathed, fingers tracing the groove between his pectoral muscles, mouth kissing nipple then abdomen as she dropped slowly on to one knee.

  Inside her, the voice of offence shrieked its rejection. Warring with it was the wish not to offend this beautiful man. Beautiful, he was, penis firmly erect, standing out from his pubis, vulnerable, strong and fine, very fine. A knot of revulsion grew in her gut, not at him, but from the memory of a slack jaw, sour flesh cramming her mouth. Fighting to stay in the present, with Hiko, she cupped both hands under his genitals, explored weight and shape with her palms and thumbs. His thighs trembled. Above her, he groaned. His fingers caressed the back of her head, played in her hair.

  Failing to blot out the remembered stench of Cut-eye, the choking fleshiness, she couldn't put mouth or lips or tongue against the charioteer's cock. She tried to force the images away by borrowing past joy, the delight of Ruan in the ring of fire. And still she couldn't, could not… A bowl slid across the floor, bumped against her knee.

  ‘Butter him up a bit first,’ Terra encouraged. Laughter erupted.

  ‘Or let Terra do it for you,’ Eefay shouted. More ribald hoots and giggles.

  ‘Honey-buttered man,’ another girl chuckled. ‘We'd all eat that.’

  ‘I'm ready to roll in a beehive,’ one of the watching charioteers offered, ‘any time you're hungry.’

  Skaaha giggled. They were all crazy. Her tension eased. Scooping up the smooth, sticky butter, she rubbed it into Hiko's scrotum, smeared his erection. Cheered on by crude and silly commentary, she began to lick it off, trying hard not to laugh. Absurdity made a game of the honour. Relaxed, she began to have fun, buttered fingers grasping his thighs and buttocks, nibbling his testicles, taking the sweetened shaft into her mouth, playing it with teeth and tongue. Tremors ran through the charioteer, his fingers clenched in her hair. Skaaha felt a rising sense of her own power. Mouth firm around his manhood, she rocked rhythmically, slipping it in and out. Delight howled from the warriors. With their hands, they drummed a matching beat on the floor. Eefay leaned over to place a horn of mead within reach.

  ‘To wash him down,’ she shouted above the din.

  ‘Aye-yie-yaa!’ The others shrieked with laughter, drumming a roll before resuming the rhythm.

  Drawing back, Skaaha kept the stroke of the beat with her hand, lifted the horn from its stand with her other hand and swallowed a mouthful of liquid. Then she filled her mouth with it, and then with man. Lips sealed around the hard flesh, she sloshed the drink back and forth around it. Drops of mead dribbled down her chin. Hiko groaned, moaned. Part-swallowing the mead in her mouth so she wouldn't choke or splutter, she gripped his backside with one hand, caressed his scrotum with the other, and resumed the rhythm, eager, now, for his release.

  He cried out, moaning her name. A shudder ran through him. Exulting in the pleasure she gave, Skaaha swallowed the last drops of liquid with his seed as it spurted out in absolute surrender to the honouring.

  ‘Aye-yie-yaa!’ the students bellowed, battering the floor. ‘Aye-yie-yaa!’ Eefay, and several others, rolled, hysterical with laughter. In the shadows beyond the firelight, two of them mounted charioteers.

  Gently, her jaw aching, Skaaha released the man's spent organ and rose from her knees to hug him, her face and hands sticky with honey-butter, mead and man. Laughter and joy trembled through her as she kissed his throat and face.

  ‘Blessings on you, Hiko,’ she said. ‘You're a beautiful man. The honour was mine.’ She couldn't believe, and had to believe, for she had done it. The curse of fear was lifted. She had recovered the right of woman to fully cherish man. Someone began to sing. Drums picked up the beat. A pipe played. The girls danced. Terra pulled Skaaha into her arms.

  ‘You did well, Danu warrior,’ she crowed, hugging her.

  ‘I did,’ Skaaha agreed, amazed. ‘I did, and you're a wicked woman.’

  ‘Worldly wise, fearful of nothing.’ Terra laughed, tossing back her long red hair. ‘Some day I'll pay for it.’ She pointed to the cauldron on the hearth. ‘And you better wash before you sticky up everyone else you touch.’

  Ladling water into a bowl, Skaaha rubbed her face and hands clean with a rag. The day had been long but rewarding. Her limbs ached as if she'd fought a dozen ghouls. Faintly, from above, she heard the watch-keeper on the walkway call out. Someone approached, and must have answered since no alarm followed. If it was Donal, she would learn tonight if her safety was assured or her peril increased. Hauling on her dress, she crossed the great room to the door. A robed figure climbed the stairs, carrying a druid staff. It was Ruan, the night chill still hanging round him.

  ‘Late, but early,’ she said. ‘We expected you tomorrow.’ He stepped into the lamplight. Before he spoke, his face told her all was not well.

  ‘I must speak with Eefay,’ he said. ‘There has been a death.’

  ‘And I want this man why?’ Mara asked Vass, as she stalked around the wounded captive. No hospitality had been offered, the broch frowzy.

  ‘He was their leader,’ Vass explained, ‘and might have information.’

  ‘If I can make him talk’ – she punched the man's wounded side, watched him fall, squealing, to his knees – ‘or understand him when he does?’

  ‘The druids will interpret,’ Vass reminded her. ‘They understood him well enough at Torrin. Nechta took a ransom message out to their boat under the white flag of Bride.’ The priests at Torrin had also dressed the man's wound, and cremated his headless colleagues. ‘He claims to be the son of their queen.’

  ‘Then the ransom demand was suitably high?’

  ‘It was. He's h
eld against their good behaviour for six moons when they can present terms to you.’

  ‘You did well.’ It was rare praise. ‘Take him down,’ Mara ordered Corchen and Gila. ‘Incarcerate him in the stockroom, where I don't have to see him.’

  When the raider was removed from the great room, Vass took his leave. He was a man short and had no wish to dally at Doon Beck. Mara knew Skaaha trained at Glenelg. Donal was dead for disobedience that Vass did not believe. His queen's unpredictability made a liar of him, by omission. He told her only what he must, sharing nothing that could be withheld. It was a poor way to secure the island.

  ‘Is Jiya still with you?’ Mara asked.

  The moon-crazed warrior was exempt from command, a free spirit. Why would Mara care? ‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘She waits with the others at Torrin.’ He had brought only a small escort with the prisoner. They hadn't come, exultant, to celebrate. That ought to concern her more than Jiya's whereabouts, that, and the poverty of household support from the clan. The tribe passed judgement on her worth. He was halfway down the stone steps to rejoin his men when she remembered.

  ‘We're sorry about Fion,’ she called down.

  Vass kept walking, desperate to be out in good, fresh air.

  Kya… Kya… Kya… a golden eagle shrieked and swooped overhead. Skaaha, searching the hill for Ruan, craned to watch it soar again. The moment stilled into eagle, she soaring with it, the weight of living and the forces of earth transcended. Seven days had passed since the chilling news of Donal's death, difficult, frustrating days. Ruan said little. The other druids returned to a wake, bringing word of the raid on Torrin, of Fion struck down. Mara crushed Glenelg but failed to protect the islands, harried by enemies. Out of respect for her father, Eefay refused to discuss the future till the wake ended and the school closed.

  High above, the bird glided effortlessly through the air, its great wings spread against a cold, sharp sky. It was circling. Skaaha scanned the rocky hillside, looking for its prey. Ruan stood, planted on a rocky rise, arm outstretched. A leather gauntlet covered his forearm to the elbow. In his gloved fingers, he held a piece of meat. Stunned, Skaaha glanced upwards, saw the eagle fold its wings, roll over, and swoop.

  Ruan held steady as the great bird dropped towards him. The risk was great. Eagles could kill a deer with one blow. As it approached and spread those great wings, the span as long as Ruan was tall, it seemed the bird might beat him to the ground. Instead, fluttering, it settled on his forearm, swaying to find balance, and began to tear at the meat. Immobilized with awe, Skaaha was certain Ruan spoke to the creature as it fed. When the food was done, the bird preened then spread its wings and rose, rapidly, into the autumn sky.

  ‘How did you do that?’ Skaaha ran to Ruan, calling as she went. ‘Can I try?’

  He removed the gauntlet. ‘She's an old friend,’ he said, ‘visiting from Kylerhea, and the food is gone. You should have come earlier.’

  ‘I would if I'd known.’ Perhaps this explained his solitary evening sessions on the beach back home. She felt peeved he would keep such a secret. ‘Wish I had.’

  ‘I doubt she'd come down for anyone else,’ he added. ‘They have strong loyalties.’ Together, they watched the soaring eagle vanish to a pinhead on the clouds. When it was gone, he pushed the gauntlet into his pouch. ‘They even mate for life.’

  ‘Do they? How strange.’ The image of light and air still filled her head, the power of those wings. ‘Why would they do that?’

  Ruan shrugged. ‘It must suit them.’ They began to walk back across the hill. ‘How well does Hiko suit you?’

  Skaaha stopped walking. Since the party, she'd taken Hiko to her bed twice. But the wake was over. Mara sent no tutor to replace Donal. The students prepared to leave. She had just kissed Terra and Misha goodbye, taken leave of the others. There were more pressing things to discuss than who occupied her bed. ‘Are you asking if I mean to marry him?’

  ‘I ask what I intend,’ Ruan said, turning to face her. ‘He's a charioteer.’

  ‘He's enjoyable, a fine man.’ It was her turn to shrug. ‘Fucking means we work the chariot better.’

  ‘You, and all the other seniors,’ he snorted. ‘Where's your pride?’

  ‘Set aside, as it should be.’ She frowned. ‘He's not mine.’ Something was amiss. All warriors, male or female, fucked with their charioteers. It helped them move well together, but didn't bind them. ‘A man can't be jealous,’ she said.

  ‘Can't he?’ the druid snapped. ‘Maybe we just control ourselves better than women.’ He stalked off towards the trees. Skaaha ran after him, grabbed his arm and spun him round.

  ‘This is foolish,’ she said. ‘Woman's capacity for pleasure is greater, that's all. Men are bound to one lover because they can't satisfy more. It's the way things are.’ As a druid, Ruan couldn't bind to anyone, or marry, though he might copulate from duty or for pleasure. Maybe that explained why he thought like a woman on this. ‘You didn't mind about Terra.’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘But you told me to take other lovers.’

  ‘It's what I have to say.’

  Skaaha was bewildered. ‘Women are not eagles,’ she said, ‘except in spirit.’ She wrapped her arms round him, feeling resistance. ‘I love you with all my being,’ she said. ‘This you know. Here’ – she placed his hand over her heart, spread his fingers – ‘you live in here, with all those I love.’ He began to soften. She nuzzled into his neck. ‘You also live here’ – she pressed her abdomen against him. His arms tightened round her. His cheek rubbed the top of her head. ‘I'm the woman you taught me to be,’ she murmured. ‘I work, eat, play and fuck with others, as you do. It takes nothing away from us.’

  ‘I know,’ he groaned. ‘Dear, sweet, blessed Bride, I know.’

  33

  They made love in the long grass as the day moved on and the creatures of the hill went about their business of hunting, feeding, drying or storing for the coming long nights. When the chill fingers of evening began to creep through their clothes, they rose, brushing off grass, and began to walk down the hill, hand in hand, through trees burnished with autumnal fire. Fallen leaves crunched underfoot. The twin delights of eagle and love-making slipped into memory.

  ‘I came to ask what I should do,’ she told him. ‘I need to train, and I need opponents. Eefay and I already outguess each other. Misha offered to return with a warrior from the Caledones. But Eefay refused.’

  ‘Rightly,’ Ruan confirmed. ‘The allegiance of Glenelg must be sworn to the Island of Wings. Unless Mara approves the tutor, the school can't operate.’

  Skaaha snorted. If Mara sent anyone, it would be an assassin. ‘Will Vass teach me, if I go to Ardvasar?’

  ‘You can't go there!’ The words exploded out of him, as if in anger.

  ‘What is this thing with you?’ She jerked her hand out of his. ‘If I want to fuck with warriors, I will. You're my priest, not my wife!’

  ‘It's not about that.’ He caught her arm. ‘You can't cross the water.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The danger.’ Her fury, already sparked, burst into flame. ‘Did Eefay tell you? You won't interfere in this, Ruan. I'll deal with Mara when the time comes, after I deal with my loose-tongued sister!’ She tried to tug her arm free, to charge down the slope through the trees and confront Eefay, but Ruan held her.

  ‘She told me nothing,’ he said. ‘Be still.’ They were close to the druid lodges. ‘Go in.’ He ushered her towards his. ‘We need to talk.’ He went to ask one of the other priests to fetch Eefay then returned to join her. ‘Sit,’ he insisted. ‘I have something to tell you, and it seems you have something to tell me.’

  Skaaha sat. His lodge smelled of herbs and perfumed oil, the same smell he had. Last time, it had stunk of vomit, hers, and then blood, as she writhed with pain. He'd held her, rubbed her belly and back with oils, apologizing over and over for the strong dose of abortifacient needed at that stage.
When the agony eased, he washed her clean, burned the messed blanket. Then he taught her how to mix the weaker herbal brew that would prevent further pregnancies without causing pain or sickness. She was to take it over the fertile days if she wanted to mate then. If she forgot, it must be taken from copulation till bleeding. She'd been careful not to need it yet, till today.

  ‘While we wait for Eefay,’ he said, handing her a steaming cup, ‘tell me the secret you've been keeping. I'll tell mine when she arrives.’

  So she told him about Mara's visit to the cavern of Bride, that Bartok and his men came to Kylerhea intending to take her head, and Ard's revelation that Mara knew them. ‘Now she's killed Donal,’ she concluded, ‘for disobedience, you said. I'd gamble my life it was because he told her I was here.’

  A frown had creased Ruan's face as she spoke. Now it deepened. ‘Why didn't you tell me this?’

  ‘I didn't know who sent them’ – she hesitated – ‘or who to trust. Once I knew it was Mara’ – she bit her lip – ‘I couldn't tell you. The law won't help.’

  He was silent for a few moments. ‘The pieces fit together,’ he said finally, ‘but they're not evidence.’

  ‘Exactly,’ she agreed, ‘and why would she want me dead? I was a blacksmith, an asset to the warrior queen, and no threat.’

  ‘Nor was my father,’ Eefay said, coming through the door. ‘The wake is over, Ruan. My school is closed.’ She settled herself beside Skaaha. ‘Now tell me why Donal died.’

  ‘Skaaha is right,’ the druid began. ‘The fault is her presence here.’ He didn't get much further. The telling of Mara's first claim prompted an outburst.

  ‘She lies,’ Eefay objected. ‘The first Donal knew was when Skaaha arrived here, with you, long after Beltane.’

  ‘I had no reason to train before,’ Skaaha protested. ‘Not till I was attacked, after you took me to Tokavaig, when Bride didn't let me die.’