Blade of Fortriu

by Juliet Marillier

  Deord gazed up at him. He was a man whose relaxed grace of posture and calmness of eye made him seem far taller than he was. “He says it cannot, my lord. I would not have disturbed you otherwise. He’s seen something he says requires immediate—”

  “Didn’t you hear me? Later!”

  “Travelers,” Deord said quietly as the door began to close in his face. “A man and a fair-haired girl of unusual beauty. Their escort was set upon by the Blues at Breaking Ford.”

  The door stopped moving. “And?” queried Alpin.

  “Drustan can tell you,” said Deord. “It was not I who saw this. They’re in trouble.”

  Alpin cursed under his breath. Deord waited, silent and still. “Tell my brother I’ll be there shortly,” the chieftain growled.

  Deord bowed and moved away. The door closed.

  “Confounded servants,” Alpin said. “I must leave you, I’m afraid. Are we done here?”

  “Whether we are done or no, I must be gone,” said Odhar. “I want to be on the way south before nightfall. Your message, then, is unchanged? This offer from Bridei makes no difference to your decision?”

  Alpin smiled. His eyes were cold. “None at all, save that I will consider making my men available somewhat earlier than I intended. The fleet will be ready; they’ll work on the boats over summer. I expect there will be more information to be had before long. Indeed, its sources may be closer to home than I ever imagined.”

  “I don’t suppose we will meet again soon,” Odhar said, rising to his feet. “My sphere of influence is not the battlefield.”

  “Who knows?” Alpin’s tone was light. “Farewell. Safe journey.”

  His guest dismissed, the chieftain of Briar Wood made his way in long, impatient strides to the distant part of the fortress where his brother Drustan was housed. It was a lengthy walk through outhouses and narrow ways, all behind the locked entrance that opened from his own private chamber. Nobody was going to find Drustan’s quarters by chance. The final approach led Alpin down a deep path between high stone walls that were pierced by chinks of windows. Through each of these could be seen a glimpse of the world outside: a sliver of dappled green, a dark swathe of needled pines, a flash of water under the spring sun. Above the walls, Briar Wood’s tall elms presented their crowns to a pale sky. Birds passed over, crying. The sound of them made Alpin’s flesh crawl. He hated coming here. It filled him with memories. His hands began to tremble, and he clenched them into fists. If only he could do it; if only he could put an end to this. Move on, start anew. A wife. A beautiful young wife. That would be a powerful tool for change. But not with his brother hanging around his neck. Not with Drustan immured here, forever dragging him down. Why was he thus cursed? What had he ever done to anger the gods so?

  The walls curved around, carrying the path between them, and the iron gate came into view, the chained and bolted gate that led to the place where Drustan lived with his keeper. Alpin thought he had done well for his brother, all things considered. The indoor quarters were clean, private, and of reasonable size. Outdoors there was a patch of grass, a bench, a small pond. This area was securely walled, of course, and roofed with iron grillwork. That made the little garden dim. Drustan would never again see the Shining One in her perfect fullness, save quartered by the bars of this open cell. And just as well. At full moon he was at his most unreliable.

  Alpin knew he could have been far less generous. There were those who would have thrown his brother into a dungeon, never to see the light of day again. The crime he had committed warranted that. But Alpin had not done so; Drustan was kin, for all his ill-doing and his strangeness. Let him see the sky, as long as he could not fly away.

  Deord unlocked the iron door at Alpin’s call, and locked it again behind the chieftain.

  “Where is he?” Alpin was already restless. “I don’t have long.”

  “By the wall, there.”

  Alpin peered into the shadowy corner of the enclosure, following Deord’s pointing staff. “Is he chained?”

  A flicker of expression passed across the shorter man’s face. “We comply with your requirements, as always, my lord.”

  Alpin glanced at him sharply, suspicious of the blandly obedient tone, but Deord appeared calm and relaxed, as ever. For a man of such muscular build, a man whose every move spoke of harnessed power, Drustan’s guard displayed a remarkably even temper. Alpin considered this combination ideal in a keeper for his brother. He wondered, sometimes, if there were more to Deord than met the eye, but the fellow never gave much away.

  Alpin advanced toward the corner where, now, the figure of Drustan could be seen in the shadows, a tall man, as tall as his brother, but lean and wiry with none of Alpin’s bulk. A shock of tawny hair fell across Drustan’s shoulders. His hands were tightly clenched; he leaned against the stone wall, head tipped back, eyes closed. Nearby, up in a niche, three birds perched in a row, staring down at Alpin unwinking: a hoodie, a crossbill, a tiny wren. Alpin glared back. He loathed the creatures that seemed to haunt this place, coming in and out through the impossibly small openings in the grille; their preternatural stillness unnerved him. Drustan stirred as he approached, and there was a shiver of metal.

  “At last!” Drustan exclaimed, eyes snapping open to fix his brother with the bright wildness that never failed to send a chill down Alpin’s spine. “She’s in danger—lost and frightened—she needs help—”

  “Now, now.” Alpin attempted a placatory tone such as one might use toward a distressed infant or temperamental horse. “Let us take this slowly, Drustan. Come, sit here on the bench, take a deep breath and—”

  “The ford—Breaking Ford—they were caught by the Blues, and a man fell, and then the river snatched them away—”

  “Drustan!” The tone had changed; now Alpin spoke as to a disobedient hound, sharply commanding, and pointed at the bench. His brother moved; a metallic music followed him as the fine chain that linked the iron bracelets around his wrists, then ran to a ring set in the stone bench, snaked along beside him. Drustan would not sit down, perhaps could not, for a vibrant energy, a deep restlessness possessed him, and he shifted from one foot to the other, moving his hands, jangling the metal.

  “Stop it!” Alpin snapped in irritation. “Now what did you see? Tell me in simple words, as if it were a story. Who was there? A woman, Deord said. What woman? I need all of it. Slowly, Drustan.”

  “A party of travelers. An attack. I couldn’t help them. I couldn’t warn them, I tried but I couldn’t—the Blues came. One man dead, another wounded. A flood—a terrible, sudden wave, like the anger of Bone Mother—so many fallen, broken, scattered … all swept away, swept away down …”

  “And then?” prompted Alpin with a sigh.

  “She was brave. So brave. So beautiful. Like a princess in a song. She saved a man. Bone Mother nearly had him. The river nearly took him. She saved him. All gone, horses, men, baggage … nothing left. Cold … wet … lonely … You must help her, Alpin. Go now. Now!”

  “This woman. You say beautiful, like a princess. Was she young? Richly dressed?”

  Drustan had fallen silent. His eyes changed, warmed.

  “Drustan!”

  “A princess.” His voice was quieter now. “Hair like a stream of gold; eyes full of courage. Young, yes. And sad.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Coming to Briar Wood. Along the old path. A man, a woman, a tired horse. A little fire by night. You must go, brother, go and find her. She’s cold.”

  “A man. What man?”

  Drustan said nothing.

  “What man, Drustan? Black Crow save us, you have enough to say when it suits you, why can’t you give plain answers?”

  Deord shifted slightly. He was watching from a distance, expression impassive, staff in hand. Alpin welcomed that. He was never quite sure what his brother would do or which way he would move. And Drustan was quick. He had always been quick.

  “A dark man,” Drustan said. “Her co
mpanion.”

  “A guard?”

  “Her companion.”

  “Well dressed? Armed? A warrior? A courtier?”

  “A dark man,” Drustan said again. “Go now, Alpin! Help her!”

  “Oddly enough,” said Alpin, rising to his feet, “for once I can only agree with you. This must surely be the bride chosen for me by King Bridei of Fortriu. Young, beautiful, and headed this way—I can think of no other explanation. I’ll send a party to meet them. Or … why not? I’ll go and fetch her myself.”

  SIX NIGHTS THEY spent camping rough, six nights warmed by little fires and each other’s bodies under the shared blanket. Faolan had begun to regain his strength. His arm was healing well, assisted by the fresh bandages Ana insisted on applying each morning. That he no longer felt the sapping, draining despair of that first night was, in one way, an inconvenience. Once the exhaustion was gone, physical desire began to make itself apparent, and his efforts to conceal this from Ana as she lay half-asleep curled up against him kept him long awake. He could hardly refuse to lie close to her; the nights were chill. He could most certainly not explain to her. For all her almost nineteen years, she was an innocent, a real lady, and would be shocked and frightened, he thought, if she knew the truth. Under the circumstances it would be all too easy to take advantage of her. That he needed to consider such a thing at all showed how far his self-discipline had slipped.

  There came a morning when neither of them felt the compulsion to move on. The shocked numbness that had followed their losses at the ford had been gradually replaced, as they traveled, by a tolerance between them, an acceptance that what had befallen them had altered the rules and constraints of their mission entirely. There was a new easiness to their talk and a new trust in their sharing of the day’s responsibilities.

  They had camped in a grassy hollow above a small stream, and the sun had arisen on a day already full of spring’s promise: birds were noisy in the trees fringing the water, small, bright flowers bloomed in clumps here and there amid the grass, and the air was fresh with the scent of renewal. Yet Faolan’s heart was full of a new heaviness, a thing he did not wish to put into words, even for himself. By his calculations, they were close to Alpin’s stronghold. Within a day or two they should be there, and the major part of his mission would be achieved. He could never call it a success, not with such grievous losses. But he would deliver this bride to her husband. He would seal this alliance for Bridei and take the news of it back to White Hill. Looking across at Ana as she sat by the fire working the knots out of her long hair with the small bone comb he had carried in his bags, he recognized within him a powerful wish that he need not do so. He did not want to deliver her up to a man unknown to her, and leave her to live the rest of her life among strangers.

  She looked up, perhaps conscious of his scrutiny. “Faolan?”

  “Mmm?”

  “How long do you think it will be now? We are near the edge of Briar Wood, aren’t we?”

  He attempted a smile. “Getting hungry?”

  Ana looked at him. “I would welcome a meal other than those pieces of leather, most certainly. But that’s not why I ask.”

  “Perhaps two days,” he said. “We must travel through dense woods; the paths may elude us and make the journey longer. I’m sorry about the food. If I’d brought a bow—”

  “It wouldn’t be much use with that arm the way it is,” Ana said crisply. “I never expected you to provide me with sumptuous meals and a soft feather bed, Faolan. I grew up in the islands. It wasn’t a pampered existence.”

  “All the same,” he said, “I would wish to provide for you, at least. I’ve done a poor job thus far.”

  “If it helps,” Ana said, “I will tell you that, of all the people I know, you are the one I would choose to walk by my side and be my protector on such a journey as this. I would have no other.”

  He was mute.

  “It wasn’t like that when we set out from White Hill. I resented those riding lessons. You had such a disapproving air about you, and I dislike being judged by people who haven’t made the effort to know me. I’m sorry you cannot stay long at Briar Wood.”

  “I’m not sorry,” he said, feeling a strong distaste for the prospect of seeing her wed to a man who valued her only for her bloodline; thinking that perhaps this journey had sent him somewhat crazy, since such thoughts had no place in the head of a hired guard. And, having chosen to put his past entirely behind him, that was indeed all he was.

  “Oh,” said Ana, her head drooping like a wilting flower.

  “I didn’t mean—I meant—”

  “I understand, Faolan,” she said with careful courtesy, picking up the comb again. “You must get back to White Hill. You must take Bridei the news of our terrible losses, and tell him the alliance with Alpin is sealed.”

  “I’ll stay for one turning of the moon at the very least. Bridei’s instructions were precise. He doesn’t want a formal handfasting until I’m certain of Alpin’s loyalty.”

  To this, Ana had nothing to say.

  “Or if you … should you …” No, he would not put this into words.

  “If I don’t take to him? I don’t think that was ever a factor,” Ana said tightly.

  “Ana—”

  “What?”

  Faolan had a leaf between his fingers; he twisted and twirled it. “I’ve asked you this before, but I’ll ask it again. If you … if there were no duty, if you had free choice, what would you do now?”

  She was silent a little, pondering the question. Then she said in a whisper, “I can’t lie to you. I would ask you to take me home. Back to White Hill. I think I would rather grow old as a maiden aunt to Derelei than go through with this journey. At heart I’m a terrible coward. What about you?”

  “Me?”

  “Given free choice, what would you do?”

  “I can’t tell you,” he said. “Besides, I can’t have free choice. I sacrificed it long ago.”

  “You mean, to serve Bridei?”

  He shook his head. “Oh, no. That was a liberation of sorts. This was far earlier. When I was a boy.”

  “Will you tell me that story?”

  Her voice was very sweet to his ears; he felt the danger in it, and drew himself back from the brink. “It’s not worth telling,” he said. “We have two days; then you become Lady Ana once more, and I melt into the anonymity of Alpin’s household to do the work Bridei pays me for.”

  “I’m glad you will be staying,” Ana said, “if only for a little. Bridei said you were a good friend, and I told him I found it hard to believe. I believe it now.”

  “Bridei is all too ready to bestow the status of friend on those who are no more than loyal servants.”

  “That’s rubbish and you know it,” said Ana. “He relies on your good counsel, your strength, your support. He sees through the walls you build around yourself. And you, I think, have stood by him in his own times of self-doubt.”

  Faolan remembered the winter when he had first been assigned to Bridei; himself and his fellow guards keeping vigil with a shattered and sickened young nobleman after his first and only observance of the Gateway sacrifice at the Well of Shades. He recalled a desperate ride through the snow from Caer Pridne to Pitnochie, and a valiant old horse that had carried him to Bridei’s side in time for him to fish the future king, half drowned, from the seer’s pool. Ana was perceptive; she saw what he had believed well concealed.

  “I want to ask a favor,” Ana said.

  “What?”

  “If we’re going to arrive there in two days, I should make some effort to clean myself up. I’d like to appear presentable when Alpin first sees me. There’s a pool downstream, and it feels as if the day will be warm. I want to bathe and wash my hair and put my old clothes on. You can have these ones back; they’re cleaner than what you’re wearing. You could do with a wash yourself.”

  He looked across at her then, imagining himself in Alpin’s shoes as the travelers walked out of t
he woods and up to the gate of the fortress. She was lily-pale and her face was smudged with ash from the fire. In his tunic and trousers, with his belt tied around her narrow waist, she looked every corner a woman. The too-large garments failed to conceal the graceful curves of her body, the high, round breasts, the swell of her hips, the shapely thighs. She was replaiting her hair now; the dust of the journey had darkened its ashen flow to the color of honey and subdued its floating exuberance, but still it was a thing of rare loveliness, a silken waterfall, a swathe of living light, a cloak of springtime. He looked into her eyes, the honest, clear gray eyes that seemed to speak straight to his heart. “Your misgivings are groundless,” he said. “Alpin will be satisfied, believe me.” And he wanted to tell her, You are beautiful , but he silenced those words before they left his lips.

  A delicate blush rose to Ana’s cheeks; she held his gaze as if seeking to ascertain if he were, indeed, capable of lying merely to please her. “I would like to wash, all the same,” she said. “For my own sake as much as Alpin’s. To look my best—or at least to make a small effort toward it—would give me courage.”

  “You need courage for this, after all you have done? After what you did at the ford? You risked your own life to save me.” He was incredulous.

  Ana looked down at her hands. When she answered, her voice was like a child’s. “I’m very afraid of this, Faolan. I need all the help I can get.”

  They lingered by the stream. They spoke little, but rested quietly, content in each other’s company. The horse grazed unhobbled; here in this gentle cup of the land the grasses grew sweet and lush, and he found no reason to wander. It was, Faolan thought, a day he would put away in his memory and keep like a precious talisman to sustain him when this was over. He knew that, for him, there could never be another such day, a brief span of time that seemed to stand outside the ordinary life of a man or woman; a day that was not part of the turbulent flow of affairs but, quite simply, a gift.

  By midday it was warm enough for him to discard his boots and tunic and lie on the grass in his travel-stained shirt and trousers. Ana was sitting on the rocks by the stream, dangling her bare feet in the water and humming to herself. Faolan got up, intending to tell her that if she insisted on bathing, now would be a good time. He had taken one step toward her when a sound made him freeze in place. Ana went very still; she had heard it, too. Movement in the woods beyond their small sanctuary: voices, hoofbeats, a jingle of harness.