He could hear the blood singing in his ears. He could taste change in the air. As the banners waved from the hilltop, Tolga leaped forward on the yoke, slapping the reins on the backs of the warhorses, and Altan’s chariot rushed forward down the hill and into the center of the battle.
Suddenly, Elia turned away from them, and the landscape shifted. Voada could barely hold her head up by the time the chariot whipped around at the sound of the new threat behind them. All was confusion, and people were dying around her, Cateni and Mundoa alike. The warhorses were trampling foot soldiers who pressed hard around them—dark faces under armored helms with open mouths—and she saw a spear glance away from Maol’s upraised shield, narrowly missing her.
Her eyelids were heavy, and every muscle of her body felt as if it had been pummeled. She could feel her anamacha nearby, and the thought of the Moonshadow entering her again made her sick and nauseated. She was weeping and didn’t know why, the tears cold against her fevered skin.
“Voada!” Maol was shouting, loudly enough that she lifted her head and tried to focus on his face. “We need you! A spell …”
“I can’t …” she said. Her voice seemed a whisper against the uproar of the battle. She shook her head. I can’t do any more. All I wanted was to have my children back, and all the lives I’ve taken in revenge for what was done to us have given me nothing. Nothing. I can’t do this anymore. It’s not what I want any longer. Fight if you must, but do it without me. Just let me sleep …
She wondered whether she’d said the words or only thought them.
She felt the cold press against her spine as her anamacha entered her without invitation, invading her body. The Moonshadow loomed like a thunderhead before her. “No …” she tried to say, trying to refuse them, but they slid inward, the black curtains of their storm-wracked world flowing into in her mind and overshadowing her vision of the battle.
“No,” she said again, but the word was weak and powerless, and she felt the Moonshadow driving deep into her. Lightning crackled, and she saw herself as the Moonshadow, cloaked in energy and power. Voada’s mouth opened, her hands began to move of their own volition in the pattern of a spell, and the channeling words spilled out of her, but someone else had taken control of her voice. She could feel the fire flowing through her veins once more, burning her from the inside but bringing her head up and forcing her to stand tall in the chariot. She was a puppet, part of her simply watching as her hands cupped the spell and the chant ended. She released the spell, heard it hiss and flare outward to rip into the Mundoan troops in front of her. Maol shouted, lifting his bloodied spear in response. Their chariot sped forward into the hole with Àrd Mac Tsagairt and Magaidh’s chariot behind it, now heading back up the slope toward the new threat to their flank.
Voada couldn’t even protest. She had no voice, had no control of her own body. Her hands began to weave the air once more; her voice spoke words she didn’t understand. The world of the anamacha was all she saw, and she lived in the center of that storm. Her body was a rag torn and shredded by a hurricane, holding desperately to life. Again, the Moonshadow and the other draoi around her filled Voada. It was as if she were alight with their power, their energy glaring through her skin as if it were paper, her bones casting long shadows into the anamacha’s world. She could not hold a spell so potent, couldn’t bear the pain as it ripped outward in fire and wind, indiscriminate and uncontrolled, destroying Cateni and Mundoa alike who stood before them.
“Voada, what are you doing?” Maol shouted at her, his face a rictus of battle-fury. She couldn’t answer. Her vision was dark, her body sagging and failing even as the anamacha started to fill her once again.
She could hear someone shouting from behind them, and in the confusion that was her vision she saw Maol looking back over his shoulder and pointing. Hùisdean turned the chariot hard, sending Voada slamming into the rail even in her bonds. The Moonshadow shrieked in response, and again Voada found herself helplessly taking in the energy. The chariot shuddered around her; she saw Maol grab a new spear and cast it, then grab for another.
Time seemed to have slowed. Voada managed to turn her head even as she desperately tried to weave the spell. She saw Savas in his chariot behind them, saw him deflect with his shield the spear Maol had flung and throw his own. She saw the weapon hurtling through the air—not toward Maol, but toward her. Maol saw it as well; he lunged toward Voada with this shield out, but the spear had already struck.
Voada felt a searing, jarring pain in her abdomen that sent the half woven spell spilling uselessly into the sky, a fountain that rained sparks and flame. She grunted, tasting salt in her mouth, the end of the spear jutting from her body. The voices of the anamacha wailed; she felt their world slip away from her even as she heard Maol cry out when a second spear from Savas sent him sprawling onto the floor of the chariot. Hùisdean screamed at the warhorses, and the chariot swerved sharply once more as Voada’s eyesight narrowed and closed in. Everything went black and silent around her as the world faded.
33
A Shattered Moon
MAGAIDH STROKED VOADA’S FOREHEAD with a cool cloth. She half expected the cloth to steam, considering the heat that radiated from Voada’s fevered body. The archiater her husband Comhnall had sent was seated on the other side of Voada, shaking her head, and an elderly menach muttered prayers to Elia. Comhnall stood behind Magaidh, silent and still attired in his bloody, dented armor, his face grim and solemn. Voada stirred, her eyes fluttering open to stare up at the night sky. “Magaidh …” she breathed. Her eyes rolled back, showing white, and Magaidh thought she’d lost Voada, but then the ceanndraoi blinked and her gaze returned. “Where … ?”
“We’re in the woods to the north of the road, Ceanndraoi. Comhnall has taken charge of the clans and those warriors we have left. We’re safe for now.”
“Ceannàrd Maol?”
“Dead,” Magaidh said flatly. She glanced up at Comhnall. “Hùisdean drove your chariot from the field, but the ceannàrd was already dead by the time we were able to stop our retreat. We left many of the people of the clans on the field, Ceanndraoi. Too many.”
“I’m sorry …” Voada breathed. “It’s my fault … I couldn’t hold her … I’m so sorry …”
Magaidh could hear the rattle in her breath, could see how the thick cloth bandage around the woman’s waist, changed not half a stripe ago, was again soaked with blood despite the ministrations of the archiater. Voada’s anamacha stood near them, watching, though neither the healer nor Comhnall noticed or felt its presence. Magaidh’s own anamacha watched as well from her side. Her anamacha had been no help; Magaidh had called it to her when they’d stopped to tend to Voada, and she’d pleaded for those draoi inside to give her a spell that could heal Voada’s terrible wound, but they had only laughed sadly at her.
“You’ve nothing to be sorry about, Ceanndraoi.” Magaidh glanced at the fires in the woods behind Comhnall: nowhere near as numerous as they should be, though at least Savas hadn’t pursued them far after their retreat from the battle. The Mundoa had suffered tremendous losses as well and had drawn back to lick their own wounds.
The battle had not been a victory for either side.
“Àrd Comhnall is leading us back across the Meadham into the Albann Bràghad, where we’ll be safe and can recover,” she said to Voada. The cloth on Voada’s head already felt hot, and she dipped it again in the basin of spring water the healer had brought, dabbing at the sweat on Voada’s pain-wracked face. “You accomplished so much, Ceanndraoi, and I’ll always be grateful to you for what you taught me.”
Voada coughed, her spittle leaving her mouth
flecked with blood, and Magaidh wiped the woman’s dry, cracked lips. “It wasn’t me, not at the end. The Moonshadow …”
“I know,” Magaidh told her. “I know. I felt that. I’ve felt her closeness to you ever since Pencraig.”
“Pencraig …” The word was a sigh. “I failed, Magaidh. I failed Meir. I failed Orla and Hakan. I failed you and Comhnall and Maol. I failed everyone. I failed Elia most of all. I thought I knew what She wanted of me …”
“You failed no one,” Magaidh crooned to her. “That’s not true, Ceanndraoi. You did so much.”
“This wasn’t failure, Ceanndraoi,” Comhnall added, his voice low and graveled. “You’ve brought glory and honor to all the clans. The bards will sing songs about you forever.”
Voada’s hand lifted and clutched at Magaidh’s, her skin nearly as hot as the fire crackling nearby. Voada’s eyes pleaded as she lifted her head from the ground, as her desperate voice grated out the words. “Magaidh, you have to find her for me. Find Orla. Tell her what happened. Tell her I tried to find her … that I loved her … that …” Voada sank back, her hand loosening around Magaidh’s and going to her own throat. She plucked at the leather thong there, lifting it so that the silver oak leaf at the end glittered in the firelight. The rattle in her throat grew louder as she spoke again, and blood stained her lips. “Give Orla this … Tell her for me …”
Voada’s eyes fluttered closed, though she still held the pendant loosely in her hand. Magaidh bent over her, closing Voada’s hand around the pendant with her fingers. The menach’s prayers grew louder. “I’ll find her,” she promised Voada, glancing up at Comhnall and wondering even as she spoke the words how she would keep that oath. “I’ll find her, and I’ll give her the oak leaf, and I’ll tell her how her mother inspired all Cateni to rise up with her and how she very nearly drove the Mundoa out of our land. I’ll tell her everything so she knows you and knows how you came back for her and how you loved her. She will never forget you, Ceanndraoi. Never. None of us will forget you …”
In the midst of Magaidh’s oath, Voada’s anamacha had glided closer to Voada’s prone body. Now it stood directly beside her, the faces of the draoi within flitting over its visage. Magaidh realized that Voada hadn’t taken another breath, that her chest was still and the hand Magaidh held was limp. The menach began the prayer for the dead, the archiater sighed, and Comhnall threw his head back and roared his grief to the night.
Around them, the other Cateni in the encampment took up the cry of mourning.
Magaidh saw Voada’s taibhse rise from her body as the Moonshadow’s anamacha spread its arms, the same gesture that Magaidh herself made when bringing her anamacha into her. Voada’s taibhse ignored everything around it except for the anamacha, flying swiftly toward its embrace. The anamacha enfolded the taibhse in its arms, and for a breath, Magaidh saw Voada’s features on the anamacha’s face. Then they were gone, and the anamacha turned and swiftly began to move away. Magaidh watched them go, vanishing into the darkness and moving northward with some purpose of their own. She wondered where they were going and whether she would ever encounter them again.
Magaidh lowered Voada’s hand softly to her body, then gently lifted the ceanndraoi’s head to slip the necklace from her neck. The silver oak leaf shone in the palm of Magaidh’s hand, and she placed it in the pouch on her belt. “I’ll find her,” she whispered to the empty body, then rose to her feet.
“Wrap the ceanndraoi’s body carefully,” she told the archiater and the menach. “We will bring her with us until we cross the Meadham, then we’ll give the body to the cleansing fire. We’ll remember her as we watch the flames take her. She hasn’t left us, for her taibhse has gone with the Moonshadow’s anamacha.”
Magaidh looked down at Voada’s face, serene and still. “She will return to us,” Magaidh said. “She will always be here for us.”
THE GHOST’S CLOSING SOLILOQUY
WE ARE HAND AFTER hand of souls, not merely one. We are Iomhar of the Marsh. We are Leagsaidh Moonshadow. We are Voada the Avenger. We are many, and in time we will be many more.
We recall our names again, lost for so long … We remember the oath we took so long ago.
We are the fiery spear of the Cateni, and our task is not yet done.
Perhaps we chose wrongly when we awoke from our slumber … Perhaps we should have taken the daughter, not the mother, as the stronger of the two. Almost, we did that.
Orla … yes, that is the new name that calls to us …
Orla… .
We will search, and we will find her, and we—all of us—will make her what she can be … what she must be.
We are coming to her. We are coming …
CHARACTERS
(in order of appearance)
PART ONE:
Voada Paorach (Voh-AH-dah POO-rahk)
Protagonist of the novel. Wife of Meir and Hand-wife of Pencraig.
Pashtuk (PASH-took)
Emperor of the Mundoa
Elia (Eh-LEE-ah)
The sun goddess of the Cateni
Ailis (AY-less)
Voada’s seanmhair (grandmother)
Meir Paorach (MEER POO-rahk)
Husband of Voada and Hand of Pencraig
Orla (OAR-lah)
Voada and Meir’s daughter
Dilara (Deh-LAR-ah)
Voice-wife of Pencraig, wife of Kadir
Maki Kadir (Mah-KEE Kah-DEER)
Voice of the village Pencraig, husband of Dilara
Hakan (Hah-KHAN)
Voada and Meir’s son
Bakir (Bah-KEER)
Head of Pencraig’s military garrison
Una (OO-nah)
Voada and Meir’s house servant, in charge of the children
Fermac (FERR-mack)
Meir and Voada’s dog
Boann (BOO-ahn)
The Voice’s archiater (physician), an elder Cateni woman
Ina (EE-na)
Voada’s mother, Orla and Hakan’s grandmother
Doruk (DOHR-Uk)
Son of a local merchant who admires Orla
Altan Savas (ALL-tan SAH-vahs)
Mundoan commander in charge of the war against the northern tribes
Tamar (Tah-MAHR)
The “One-Eye.” Leader of a failed rebellion by the northern Cateni tribes.
Lucian (LOO-shin)
Commander Savas’ chariot driver
Ceiteag (Kay-tig)
A female draoi and menach in the village
Seor (SOAR)
A man in the village
Anabia (Ah-NAH-bia)
A woman in the village
Isbeil (ISS-beal)
A woman in the village
PART TWO:
Vadim III (Vah-DEEM)
The Great-Voice of Trusa
Beris
Emperor of Mundoa when its armies conquered the Cateni tribes south of the River Meadham. His reign was followed by that of his son, Emperor Hayat, then by the brief reign of Hayat’s daughter, Empress Damla, who was deposed and executed by the current Emperor Pashtuk.
Greum (GRAY-umm)
The ceanndraoi, or head mage, of Onglse. Known as “Red-Hand.”
Bella (BELL-ah)
One of Lucian’s warhorses
Ardis (AHR-diss)
One of Lucian’s warhorses
Bora (BORE-ah)
One of Lucian’s warhorses
Jika (JEE-kah)
One of Lucian’s warhorses
Ilkur (ILL-curr)
An officer in the Mundoan army, one of Altan Savas’ sub-commanders
Musa (MOO-sah)
An officer in the Mundoan army, one of Altan Savas’ sub-commanders
Conn (KAHN)
A male draoi
Leagsaidh (LEGK-see)
Moonshadow
A long-dead draoi famous in Cateni history
Marta (MARR-tah)
A female draoi
Daibhidh (DYE-vee)
A draoi on Onglse
Iomhar (EYE-oh-var)
Also known as Iomhar of the Marsh, the ceanndraoi of the Cateni at the time of the initial invasion of the Mundoa, killed in the battle of Íseal Head.
Maol Iosa (MAHL EE-sah)
A warrior of the Cateni in Onglse
Haidar (HAY-durr)
An officer in the Mundoan army, one of Altan Savas’ sub-commanders
Cumhur (COOM-harr)
An officer in the Mundoan army, one of Altan Savas’ sub-commanders
Volkan (VOLL-kahn)
An officer in the Mundoan army, one of Altan Savas’ sub-commanders
Tolga (TOLL-gah)
Driver for Altan Savas, replacing Lucian after his death
Tadgh (TAHD)
Driver for Maol Iosa
Comhnall Mac Tsagairt (CAHN-ull Mack TAG-gert)
Àrd (head) of Clan Mac Tsagairt
Magaidh Mac Tsagairt (MAH-ghee Mack TAG-gert)
Wife of Comhnall Mac Tsagairt
PART THREE:
Tormod (TORR-mahd)
A young draoi of the clans
Hùisdean (OOS-den)
Eldest son of Comhnall Mac Tsagairt, stepson of Magaidh Mac Tsagairt
Adem Nabi
(A-DEM NAH-bee)
First officer of the Mundoan garrison at Pencraig
Cemal (Keh-MAHL)
Sub-commander of the Trusa garrison
Labhrann MacÀidh (LAW-renn MacKAY)
A farmer in Albann Deas, leader of a rebellious group
TERMS AND PLACE NAMES (in alphabetical order)
Albann Bràghad (AHL-pahn BRAWK-ahd)
The Cateni name for the region north of the River Meadham. The “r” must be rolled.
Albann Deas (AHL-pahn Deesh)
The southern portion of Bhreatain, below the River Meadham
Anamacha (Ah-nah-MAHK-ah)
Literally a collection of souls—the manifested ghosts of dead draoi who are the channels through which the living draoi gain their power.
Anail (AH-nahl)
Gust or gale
Archiater (ARK-ee-ate-err)
The title for the physician responsible for treating the head of a village or town
Àrd (ARHD)
A Fading Sun Page 33