One's Own Shadow (The Siúil Book 2)

by Randall P. Fitzgerald

  “I might vomit from the excitement.”

  Óraithe laughed. “Scaa, love, you’ve marked the occasion nicely.”

  “Oh, what does it matter. Songs never mention that sort of thing.”

  Borr came as Óraithe continued mocking Scaa for her indelicacy, however ironic that might’ve been. He took his place behind the horses and after the passing of a few more minutes, they began to roll. Óraithe looked up at the awning overhead, happy to be out of the sun. It was comfortable. A feeling she let herself enjoy, as she knew it would be gone soon enough. Whatever waited at the end of the road she had put them on, it would not be comfortable.

  R

  Rianaire

  The inn they had stayed at the night before was quaint but cozy. The walls were thin enough that Rianaire was sure she had managed to keep her temporary neighbors awake. It delighted her to no end that Inney was so vocal in bed. A stark change to Síocháin and with deeper meaning than what she could have in brothels. Brothels, as well, always left her wondering how much was simply playmaking by elves trained and paid to give pleasure. Inney could not help but be honest. Her body forced it from her in fits and jerks and half sentences screamed in pleasure.

  Rianaire was well-rested come the morning and for once took her time at breakfast. The stress of the world could be upon her when there were things to be done, but there were always hours in between such tasks and she could find peace there. A decision, once made, was not worth fretting over. The outcomes were finite and often dictated the next course of action by way of necessity. For now, there were problems enough in her province and in all the others, but the path forward was one that would have to be walked in course. The girl she would see in a few hours was either to be her next Binse of War or she would not. And that outcome would either send her looking or allow her to be done with bumpy roads and near death at the hands of horsefolk.

  The Bais clouds had returned to the sky when they left to make their way to Ainlag’s house. The sun of the day before had warmed the ground and sheets of ice sat over divots along the streets. Rianaire made constant detours to walk to them and tap the ice with her foot, cracking it and then giggling like a child. She insisted that Inney try as well. She seemed to enjoy it and Rianaire even caught Síocháin tapping a few bits herself. It was a pleasant morning. Cold and grey and beautiful as only Spéirbaile could ever be. It reminded Rianaire why she loved the place so much and why she must never let the weight of things drag her down to the level of the people who came before her. If she forgot how it felt to smile and to laugh, so would the people. Perhaps not as quickly, but dire faces beget dire faces. She had seen as much in the change from her mother’s rule to her own.

  Ainlag was in her side yard again, this time with the girl she had promised to bring. They were sparring with dulled swords. Neither noticed the three approach and so Rianaire took a place at the fence to watch. The casual glimmer was nowhere to be seen in Ainlag’s eyes nor a smile on her face. She struck at the girl fiercely, unrelenting. The girl matched her, blow for blow, striking intelligently low and then high hoping to push the old woman off guard. A minute passed in a stalemate of heavy slashes and near misses before Ainlag started to show fatigue. She gave ground for the first time and her ward relentlessly pressed the attack. Ainlag could do nothing but retreat and though she held off the charge she was slowing. A high strike was followed with a kick to the leg and Ainlag went to her knees, barking in pain. The girl spun to slash at Ainlag’s back. A block came, but too slow and the dull sword cracked against the leather chestpiece. Ainlag fell onto her hands and shouted “Yield!” The girl complied, pushing her sword into the dirt and offering her teacher a hand.

  “I should hate if that was a show for my benefit,” Rianaire said, only half-joking.

  Ainlag’s demeanor from the day before returned as effortlessly as rain fell to the ground and she laughed at the suggestion. “If my pride ever fell so low that I could allow a child to beat me for show, I’d put a sword through my chest. The Fires burn hot for warriors who fight with no intention of winning.”

  “I should hope they do.” Rianaire nodded toward the girl. “And this is to be my new Binse of War?”

  Ainlag put her hand to the girl’s back and pushed her toward the fence. She stumbled forward and immediately took a knee. Ainlag spoke.

  “Well, go on and introduce yourself, you dimpy twat.”

  “I am Eala. I am honored that you would consider me to serve so grand a position.”

  Rianaire looked at the girl for the first time. Her hair was just barely more red than brown and her skin was as white as fresh snow. She had a child’s face, soft and cheeks that begged to be pinched, with pale green eyes.

  “Stand, Eala. There’s no need to be so formal. Ainlag certainly understands that.”

  The old woman laughed. “Never seen her try to put together such a noble sounding set of words. Must be you got her scared, Treorai.”

  “I… sorry. I am not used to… this. Nobility and what not.”

  “Well, let’s get you used to it. Ainlag, do you keep anything resembling tea in this house?”

  “Might be I do. Door’s open, we’ll come in by the back door.”

  Rianaire moved first and then the rest went on their way. Inney pulled the door open and a rush of pleasantly warm air pushed past them. The inside of the place was fitting of Ainlag. Empty bottles and mugs strewn about with old war banners, many stained in blood, nailed haphazardly to the walls. She had more weapon racks than would likely have been found in Síoscuain’s armory. The sight of it certainly bred confidence in Eala as a choice. The house itself was small, utilitarian. A main room which held a bed, a fireplace, and most of the weapon racks sat just off the entryway and attached to a small kitchen on the other side. Ainlag and Eala awaited them in the kitchen, which itself was mostly filled with a dining table. She had a single stove which she placed a log into just as Rianaire entered. Eala was already sat at the table and when the log was lit, Ainlag insisted that the rest take the other chairs. They obliged and their host placed a kettle over the fire.

  “I have a question for you, Ainlag, before I ask Eala anything.” Rianaire turned in her chair to face Ainlag. “How is it you worked so closely with the Regent of Cnoclean and I did not know your name before yesterday?”

  “A long story. And one without much humor, I’m afraid.” Ainlag ran a hand through her hair. “I was disgraced and stricken from every record, as near as I know. The Regent of that time would lay with me as it pleased him, and sure enough his cock fit well inside me so I had no complaints. But I fell in love with a stable hand. Low born, to be sure, but handsome and strong and, by the Sisters, he made me come like hammers shatter stone.” The kettle whistled and Ainlag pulled it from the fire and set about making the tea. “The short of it is that the Regent figured he owned me and I figured he could fuck himself with a snapped branch and he didn’t agree. Must’ve loved me somewhere in his addled brain, though. He let the both of us leave. Stable hand left me for a ship captain some ten years later.” Ainlag laughed. “Abandoned a life of comfort for a man who only wished to be a fishwife. Shame I didn’t have a cock of my own, maybe he’d have stayed.”

  Rianaire laughed. “Well, another disservice done to our province by the wisdom of our noble lineage. At least the bulk of them are dead.” She turned to Eala. “So you. I hear you’ve killed before. Tell me the tale.”

  Ainlag placed the tea on the table, she chuckled under her breath as the question was asked.

  Eala looked to Ainlag and back to Rianaire. “It is no grand story, I fear. A thief cornered himself trying to flee with stolen ore from a goldsmith’s shop. He pulled a short sword and I ran him through before he could make use of it.”

  “And what do you know of war?”

  “War? I… have read treatises. Mostly on open field tactics in Abhainnbaile. There are few writings that
I could find about our own terrain or how to make best use of it.”

  “If you were forced into a battle tomorrow?”

  “The tactics of city defense would likely apply, if a bit differently. We should occupy the high ground and put archers to the fore. Delay a charge uphill as best we can and wear them down.”

  “What if the high ground is lost to us?”

  “I assume the enemy are hippocamps?”

  Rianaire nodded.

  “Then we retreat and seek better positions. They are the invaders, we have no cause to fight them on their own terms. They must win to gain ground. All we need do is not lose. Whether by delaying them or avoiding a fight all together, we pull food away from them. Though this is all hypothetical, I know. Reality may not be so kind.”

  “No need to equivocate, your answers were impressive. Have you fought them?”

  “Horsefolk? No, I’ve not so much as seen one in the flesh. Dead or alive.”

  “Most people have not. Though, that is a shortcoming, given the state of things. Not your fault, but something we must seek to remedy. Preferably without you being killed.” Rianaire took a drink of her tea. “Eala, how do you feel?”

  “Nervous. Confused. Excited.”

  “Physically. Are you tired from sparring with Ainlag?”

  “No. Not very, at least.”

  “Good.” Rianaire stood. “You will fight Inney. Any weapon you’d like. She will use her fists and nothing else.”

  Inney stood before the girl could protest and Eala looked up at her. Inney’s mask was smiling politely which seemed to make Eala uneasy. Rianaire was first out the back door into the yard. Teacup in hand, she drew in a deep breath of the cold Bais air. It was fresh and had just a hint of the sea to it. The rest joined her and Eala took her weapon up. This would prove an interesting test, Rianaire figured. It was easy enough to underestimate Inney. She seemed small and frail. Rianaire could not imagine Ainlag had taught the girl to go easy on someone who meant her harm, but teachers were not their students.

  Ainlag asked both if they were ready and received her affirmations. She shouted to begin and for a second there was no movement. Eala watched with hawk-eyed intensity but Inney stood firm. The girl lowered the tip of her sword just slightly and charged at Inney, stopping short to thrust. Inney moved herself to the side casually, stepping away from the blade and back. Eala shifted her weight and pulled the sword to the side but caught nothing but air. Her opponent had taken another step back to avoid the blow and now stepped forward causing Eala to leap away, regaining her defensive posture. She held firm this time, watching Inney, unsure of how to approach. It seemed Inney would not wait to give her another chance and ran forward. It was disturbingly quick. Eala moved her blade to the front of her body to block. The half-Drow slid around to her side and her cloak rustled as a fist pushed out of it. Rianaire had expected to hear the sound of a strike on leather but instead a metal ding played in the yard. Eala had just managed to block. Inney was smiling as wide as Rianaire had ever seen. She pushed away as Eala righted herself for another attack. The blade swung low, Eala clearly hoping to use the reach to her advantage. Inney moved forward and let Eala’s arms catch her in the shoulder. She still held the sword but as Inney’s cloak moved she dropped the blade and brought her forearm up to stop a blow that would have struck her temple and knocked her unconscious. Eala twisted and managed to wrap Inney’s arm in her own. An attack came with Eala’s other arm in one fluid motion toward Inney’s head. Had Inney not been in a cloak, what came next would have seemed to be some form of magic. A slap against leather sounded from Eala’s midsection and she huffed out her air. The arm holding Inney still drooped and lost its power. She yanked free the trapped hand and in an instant was fully at Eala’s back. Two more quick slaps sounded and Eala lurched, groaning. She fell to her knees and coughed hard, snot pouring from her nose and drool from her mouth.

  “Well,” Ainlag said, laughing. “If there were a way to train kidneys, she’d be begging to learn them after that.”

  Inney crouched down in front of Eala and offered her hand. Eala took it and Inney helped her up. Rianaire came up, clapping softly.

  “As much trouble as Inney’s ever been given. As least that I’ve seen. Inney?”

  She nodded politely. “Very capable for her age. She will only get better.”

  “A ringing endorsement.” Rianaire turned to Ainlag, Eala still wheezing and trying not to vomit behind her. “I do believe I will steal this one from you.”

  Ainlag nodded and laughed. “I’ll have her wrapped and delivered then, shall I?”

  “No, I think I shall take her with me.” Rianaire half turned back to Eala. “If you find it agreeable, that is?”

  “Y—” She hacked again, spittle flying to the ground. She righted herself and wiped her face on her sleeve. “Yes. Very much so.”

  “Good, then call me Rianaire from now on. We will be leaving in the afternoon on the morrow.”

  Eala nodded, clutching at her side.

  Rianaire returned her attention to Ainlag. She walked over to the old woman. “I have a proposal for you.”

  “The answer’s no if it means leaving Síoscuain.”

  “Then a fine thing it does not. I intend to send the army I raise here to be trained by you. Thousands, likely, in groups as large as you will allow.”

  “Well, it’d make me look a right arse if I said no to doing what it is I do. And no point in playing coy about it. I’ll do what I can.”

  “Good. My Binse of Coin should be in his seat now. He will supply you with whatever you need.”

  Ainlag shook Rianaire’s hand to affirm the deal and they took their leave. Eala walked with them for a while and talked of what would be expected of her. Rianaire assured her that she would not be left to her own devices so soon and that things would be much more easily explained when they returned to Spéirbaile. They parted some blocks before the inn. Rianaire was quick to make for the bath when they returned. Inney joined her and Síocháin set about writing notices for the plans that had been made and delivered them to be sent where they were needed. The hours passed quietly and Rianaire found herself well-relaxed when dinner came around. The inn had only a small dining room of two tables and it seemed the other patrons were unimpressed enough with it to seek food elsewhere in the city. Dinner was a tomato stew with seafood. It was serviceable, though Rianaire understood why dining out may have been the wiser choice.

  They had not finished their meal when a commotion rose outside and the sound of bounding armor clattered against the door. Inney stood as the door opened and in came a man, thin and tall and jittery. He shut the door behind and righted himself.

  “Treorai, th-the-there’s a s-s-satyr. Loose in the town. It—”

  A knock came at the door. The guard pulled his sword and swung around, pointing it shakily at the door. The knock came again and Síocháin stood. She walked calmly to the door and put her hand to the latch.

  “Some room, if you please, guardsman.” Rianaire said, shooing him back.

  He stumbled back in bewildered compliance and Síocháin opened the door. A tall, slender figure in a hood stood in the doorway, too tall to be seen completely. The figure ducked and stepped into the room, hooves clacking against the floor. A head was thrown on the floor in front of the guard who still had his sword pointed as best as he could manage at their new guest. It rolled to a stop and Rianaire glanced over to it. A satyr head, from the looks of it, with the eyes gouged out. The hood was removed and tossed aside.

  “Gadaí, it has been quite some time.” Rianaire smiled. “Come and sit.”

  Síocháin moved past her and returned to her seat.

  “I have a thirst.” Her voice was as unpleasant as Rianaire remembered but still, she had brought gifts. A welcome sight.

  “You heard her,” Rianaire called to the terrified onlookers.
“Bring us drink. And another plate of this tomato abomination.”

  She heard scuffling behind her and mumbled arguments from the innkeep and the cook. The guard beside her still had his sword aimed at Gadaí.

  “Guard, look at me.” Rianaire’s word pulled the guard’s panicked eyes to her. “You are staring at my guest. And it is very rude to stare. Do you understand?”

  He looked back at Gadaí and nodded wordlessly, mouth hung open and hands shaking.

  “Wonderful. We have no further need for you here. You may go.”

  He dropped his sword and scrambled out the door he had come in. When he was gone Rianaire burst into laughter.

  “You always make such a wonderful impression, Gadaí. I will never grow tired of it.”

  U

  Aile

  She had climbed onto the horse’s back before unhooking the chariot to keep it from fleeing right away. It had half worked. The animal bucked a few times but quickly tamed itself when the chariot’s yoke dug into its side over and over. There was some sense of training in them it seemed, and though it was uncomfortable with her on its back, it at least understood what was expected of it. She cut the yoke free and kept the long reins wrapped tight around her hand. The same instructions still sent her mount where she intended and before long she was en route to the Bastion City and making far better pace, far more comfortably, than had she been stood in the satyr buggy they insisted on using. In truth, a few hours into the ride, the horse seemed as though it had come to enjoy the freedom that came with only a light rider on its back. It ran faster and responded more readily to her pulls on the reins. Crucially, she could now avoid terrain obstacles. The horse even began to round them by its own volition. Another entirely incorrect aspect of horsefolk culture that they were unlikely to change for sake of their worthless honor. Thinking on it, Aile decided the more likely reason was that the size of the horses did not suit riding by the satyr. The largest among them towered over Aile. Even the cock that had been offered to her a few days’ past was easily the length of her torso. The horse was large for her. Larger than those the elves kept by four hands or more, but still it was manageable.