Blade of Fortriu (66 page)
Authors: Juliet Marillier
She nodded. It had been the only time the two of them had shared any sort of understanding in all the years of Tuala’s growing up in Broichan’s house at Pitnochie.
“You want me to do it again.” She heard the fear in her own voice, and the longing.
“It will be
quite safe here,” Fola said. “You’re in a place of sanctuary, behind closed doors, with old friends. Powerful old friends. Nothing of this will be spoken by either of us outside these walls. If we need to tell Aniel or Tharan, if we need to dispatch a messenger, we will say the vision was Broichan’s. I know you haven’t attempted this since the day Bridei rode to Pitnochie to fetch you back. I think
the time has come when you must attempt it again.”
quite safe here,” Fola said. “You’re in a place of sanctuary, behind closed doors, with old friends. Powerful old friends. Nothing of this will be spoken by either of us outside these walls. If we need to tell Aniel or Tharan, if we need to dispatch a messenger, we will say the vision was Broichan’s. I know you haven’t attempted this since the day Bridei rode to Pitnochie to fetch you back. I think
the time has come when you must attempt it again.”
Tuala nodded, eyes pricking with tears. “I saw that there was danger for him,” she said. “Before he left, when Broichan cast the augury. Victory or death: those were the possibilities. I explained it to him. He chose to go.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Broichan’s voice was a shocked whisper.
Tuala looked at him. “There was no need for both of
us to shred our hearts with worry,” she said. “What the augury told was like your visions, fragmentary, unspecific. He will take extra care. He’ll make sure his guards are vigilant. I could not tell him what the danger was, the source of the threat or when it might come. There was nothing any of us could have done.”
us to shred our hearts with worry,” she said. “What the augury told was like your visions, fragmentary, unspecific. He will take extra care. He’ll make sure his guards are vigilant. I could not tell him what the danger was, the source of the threat or when it might come. There was nothing any of us could have done.”
“I should have gone with him,” Broichan muttered.
“No,” Tuala said gently. “Your
best place is here with Derelei; and with me.” She took a deep breath. “All right, I’ll do it. Just this once. It’s so long since I’ve tried, I may have no more success than you, but …” She drew the cloth away from the bowl, which was already full of clean water. The chamber seemed to darken further, but the vessel itself was filled with light, with color, with a dazzling confusion of images.
Tuala bent to look.
best place is here with Derelei; and with me.” She took a deep breath. “All right, I’ll do it. Just this once. It’s so long since I’ve tried, I may have no more success than you, but …” She drew the cloth away from the bowl, which was already full of clean water. The chamber seemed to darken further, but the vessel itself was filled with light, with color, with a dazzling confusion of images.
Tuala bent to look.
The vision consumed her immediately. She was barely aware of the others moving to stand by the table, each of them taking one of her hands and joining their own to make a circle around the copper bowl. Fola’s hand was small, warm, and relaxed; Broichan’s long fingers were cold, the joints bony, but his grip was reassuringly strong. In the water Tuala could see him in a younger
form, a dark-haired druid in his prime, walking deep in the forest with his oak staff in his hand and his eyes distant, as if he were in trance. Tuala could not be sure if what she witnessed was a spirit journey, a voyage of the mind carried out during long meditation, or a physical venture into the wildwood.
form, a dark-haired druid in his prime, walking deep in the forest with his oak staff in his hand and his eyes distant, as if he were in trance. Tuala could not be sure if what she witnessed was a spirit journey, a voyage of the mind carried out during long meditation, or a physical venture into the wildwood.
She knew the place. It was above Pitnochie, near a waterfall called the Lady’s Veil.
The season was early spring; the freshest of green leaves sprouted on the bending boughs of the beeches, and on the great oaks buds were still swelling, awaiting the releasing touch of warmer days. The light slanted down between the trees, dappling the druid’s white robe and setting a gleam on his dark plaited hair. White. When had Broichan ever worn white? This must be the time of Balance, and the
druid going off for his three days of lonely vigil under sun and stars, the secret days of his spring equinox observance. Broichan had done this faithfully for year after year. Exactly what the practice entailed, none but druids knew. Privation, fasting, endurance: all would likely be part of such a solitary rite.
The season was early spring; the freshest of green leaves sprouted on the bending boughs of the beeches, and on the great oaks buds were still swelling, awaiting the releasing touch of warmer days. The light slanted down between the trees, dappling the druid’s white robe and setting a gleam on his dark plaited hair. White. When had Broichan ever worn white? This must be the time of Balance, and the
druid going off for his three days of lonely vigil under sun and stars, the secret days of his spring equinox observance. Broichan had done this faithfully for year after year. Exactly what the practice entailed, none but druids knew. Privation, fasting, endurance: all would likely be part of such a solitary rite.
But in this vision, Broichan was not alone. From behind the beeches, half concealed
in that pattern of light and shade, someone was watching him. Tuala caught a glimpse of a pale gown, a delicate white hand, a drift of dark hair; there was a shimmer, a ripple, a shifting of the air. The druid was suddenly still, halted in his tracks, listening. After a moment he went on and, as he vanished along the path under the trees, someone darted after him, someone small and slender yet
womanly in shape, someone with locks as black as soot and eyes wide and light as the touch of the sun on a forest pool. Someone who bore a disconcerting resemblance to herself.
in that pattern of light and shade, someone was watching him. Tuala caught a glimpse of a pale gown, a delicate white hand, a drift of dark hair; there was a shimmer, a ripple, a shifting of the air. The druid was suddenly still, halted in his tracks, listening. After a moment he went on and, as he vanished along the path under the trees, someone darted after him, someone small and slender yet
womanly in shape, someone with locks as black as soot and eyes wide and light as the touch of the sun on a forest pool. Someone who bore a disconcerting resemblance to herself.
Before Tuala had a chance to blink, let alone begin working out the implications of what she had just been shown, another set of images took the place of the first. The bowl was suddenly full of twisting, tangling bodies,
of cutting and thrusting, blocking and evasion, of mouths stretched wide in scream of agony or primitive challenge, of sword and spear and club, swift arrow and deadly knife. A great battle; the pattern of it was ever-changing, a swirling, capricious, devouring tide, and the most able strategist in all Fortriu would have been hard put to say what orders the men followed, or which of these two
armies had the upper hand.
of cutting and thrusting, blocking and evasion, of mouths stretched wide in scream of agony or primitive challenge, of sword and spear and club, swift arrow and deadly knife. A great battle; the pattern of it was ever-changing, a swirling, capricious, devouring tide, and the most able strategist in all Fortriu would have been hard put to say what orders the men followed, or which of these two
armies had the upper hand.
Tuala was in no doubt that she was witnessing the great culmination of Bridei’s venture, an engagement of massive scale and decisive strategic importance. She had asked the goddess to show her a true picture and to reveal the nature of the threat to Bridei. Past experience told her the Shining One would show her what she needed or nothing at all.
There were familiar
faces to be glimpsed here and there in the melee: Uven with a bandage around his arm; Carnach on horseback, shouting orders; Talorgen wielding a great sword two-handed, with blood on his tunic. Enfret lying wounded and Cinioch trying to drag him to the shelter of a small grove of willows. The battle raged up and down the banks of a broad, shallow stream; many of the struggling, grappling men were
up to their knees in the water. Tuala saw at least one man finished off when his opponent simply held his head under. The stream flowed red. The warriors fought on a carpet of fallen comrades. Later, there would be great fires. Tuala muttered under her breath,
Bone Mother, take their hands. Grant them peace,
although there was no knowing if what she saw had already taken place, or was even now
unfolding. Perhaps it was yet to come.
faces to be glimpsed here and there in the melee: Uven with a bandage around his arm; Carnach on horseback, shouting orders; Talorgen wielding a great sword two-handed, with blood on his tunic. Enfret lying wounded and Cinioch trying to drag him to the shelter of a small grove of willows. The battle raged up and down the banks of a broad, shallow stream; many of the struggling, grappling men were
up to their knees in the water. Tuala saw at least one man finished off when his opponent simply held his head under. The stream flowed red. The warriors fought on a carpet of fallen comrades. Later, there would be great fires. Tuala muttered under her breath,
Bone Mother, take their hands. Grant them peace,
although there was no knowing if what she saw had already taken place, or was even now
unfolding. Perhaps it was yet to come.
At last she saw Bridei and her breath stopped in her throat. He was down; wounded, perhaps already dying. The conflict swirled around him, but there was a little space where he lay, as if the king of Fortriu had fallen unnoticed and might perish in the midst of the field of war, the goddess taking him with no more ceremony than she did any other combatant.
But Bridei was not quite alone. A young man with a look of the Caitt, a very big young man with piercing blue eyes, was kneeling over him, an arm behind Bridei’s shoulders. His guard, helping him up. Or holding him as he died. It was hard to remember this was only a vision, both less and more than simple truth. She must breathe; she must concentrate. She must not lose sight of him.
But Bridei was not quite alone. A young man with a look of the Caitt, a very big young man with piercing blue eyes, was kneeling over him, an arm behind Bridei’s shoulders. His guard, helping him up. Or holding him as he died. It was hard to remember this was only a vision, both less and more than simple truth. She must breathe; she must concentrate. She must not lose sight of him.
The water
seemed to swirl, and suddenly Tuala was looking at the two of them from the other side. Bridei was white as chalk, his hands clutched at his chest, and the young man was trying to move the tight fingers, he was trying to check the king’s injury, he was … Tuala turned cold. The youth had a knife gripped in his own hand, and the point was at Bridei’s breast. The guard was not helping his patron, he
was killing him. Bridei’s fingers were clutched around the other’s wrist; the pallor, the strained expression were those of a man pushing back against certain death. The moment his grip weakened, the knife would pierce his heart.
seemed to swirl, and suddenly Tuala was looking at the two of them from the other side. Bridei was white as chalk, his hands clutched at his chest, and the young man was trying to move the tight fingers, he was trying to check the king’s injury, he was … Tuala turned cold. The youth had a knife gripped in his own hand, and the point was at Bridei’s breast. The guard was not helping his patron, he
was killing him. Bridei’s fingers were clutched around the other’s wrist; the pallor, the strained expression were those of a man pushing back against certain death. The moment his grip weakened, the knife would pierce his heart.
Tuala gasped in horror, and the image on the water began to fragment and disappear. “No …” she whispered. “Not yet …” She sought desperately to fix on something, anything
that would give her the
when
and
where
and
who
without which there would be no way at all to save him. A group of trees, a contour of distant peaks, a cloak, a banner, the color of eyes, of hair … The water settled once more, and the vision was gone.
that would give her the
when
and
where
and
who
without which there would be no way at all to save him. A group of trees, a contour of distant peaks, a cloak, a banner, the color of eyes, of hair … The water settled once more, and the vision was gone.
The others released her hands. Without a word, Broichan set the dark cloth back over the scrying bowl. Fola slid a stool in place behind Tuala and
helped her to sit. Broichan set a cup of water before her. Then they waited. Each had long experience in this craft and knew not to rush the seer, even when the knowledge she had to impart was of vital importance.
helped her to sit. Broichan set a cup of water before her. Then they waited. Each had long experience in this craft and knew not to rush the seer, even when the knowledge she had to impart was of vital importance.
Tuala could not stop shivering. After a moment she blurted out the tale, not the earlier part with Broichan, for that could wait, but all she had seen of battle, blood and murder. She
forced herself to recall the scene in as much detail as possible, for if they could at least fix on the place, that might provide a clue to the time. As for the man who had held a knife to her husband’s heart, the youth with strange light eyes that hardly seemed to see his victim, she would remember him for the rest of her life.
forced herself to recall the scene in as much detail as possible, for if they could at least fix on the place, that might provide a clue to the time. As for the man who had held a knife to her husband’s heart, the youth with strange light eyes that hardly seemed to see his victim, she would remember him for the rest of her life.
“He looked like a bodyguard,” she said. “He wore a tunic with the
royal colors, just as Breth and Garth and Faolan do when they go into battle by Bridei’s side. It seemed … it seemed to me that he was someone Bridei trusted. That would explain how he had got so close. And then …”
royal colors, just as Breth and Garth and Faolan do when they go into battle by Bridei’s side. It seemed … it seemed to me that he was someone Bridei trusted. That would explain how he had got so close. And then …”
“You say this young man was of the Caitt? One of Umbrig’s men?”
“He had that look. He was certainly young, but powerfully built. He looked very strong. Bridei has immense strength
of will, but I don’t think he could …”
of will, but I don’t think he could …”
“This may well be yet to come,” Fola said quietly. “It’s early yet for Bridei’s forces to be engaging in such a major battle. Did you say Talorgen was there? That must surely not come yet, but a little later, for Talorgen was to move in by sea. Bridei must first take Galany’s Reach and another settlement to the south. I think we do have a little time.”
“If they kill him,” Tuala said with a feeling like a heavy stone in her belly, “the armies will lose their spirit. Carnach is an able leader; so are Talorgen and the others. But you know, and I know, that none of them can take Bridei’s place. He is the Blade of Fortriu. He is their hope and their inspiration. They trust him. They will ride into the jaws of death for him.”
“So,” Broichan said,
“we have an enemy who is either highly intuitive, or who has been given some intelligence that he’s putting to effective use. Someone’s decided the simple way to defeat the Priteni is to remove their leader. Someone’s recognized just what Bridei is. The Caitt, you say. I don’t see Umbrig letting a traitor slip into his ranks. The fellow’s astute. A bodyguard. Surely Bridei wouldn’t put a new man in
at such a critical time. Where was Breth, I wonder?”
“we have an enemy who is either highly intuitive, or who has been given some intelligence that he’s putting to effective use. Someone’s decided the simple way to defeat the Priteni is to remove their leader. Someone’s recognized just what Bridei is. The Caitt, you say. I don’t see Umbrig letting a traitor slip into his ranks. The fellow’s astute. A bodyguard. Surely Bridei wouldn’t put a new man in
at such a critical time. Where was Breth, I wonder?”
Neither of the women offered an answer, for the likeliest explanation was one nobody wanted to voice.
“Can we reach him in time?” Tuala’s mind was racing, searching for possibilities. It was a long journey down the Glen, and the place of this engagement seemed beyond King Lake. She thought she had glimpsed a great body of water in the distance,
a wide shining that must be the western sea. The scene in the vision did not match what Bridei had told her of Galany’s Reach, which would be the place of their earliest encounter with the enemy. “I know a man cannot walk or ride there easily, and that finding them could be difficult. And dangerous. But perhaps there is another way.” She glanced at Broichan.
a wide shining that must be the western sea. The scene in the vision did not match what Bridei had told her of Galany’s Reach, which would be the place of their earliest encounter with the enemy. “I know a man cannot walk or ride there easily, and that finding them could be difficult. And dangerous. But perhaps there is another way.” She glanced at Broichan.
“Curse this weakness!” the druid said
bitterly. “There was a time when I could have made the journey in the space of a day; traveling by paths unknown to ordinary men. I could have employed charms of concealment and transformation. Now I am reduced to a powerless shell of what I was. I cannot even attempt it, Tuala; I doubt such skills will ever be within my reach again. And Uist, alas, is no longer with us. Of all the brotherhood,
the two of us were the only men who ever achieved mastery of such journeys, save for the one who taught us, and he is long departed.”
bitterly. “There was a time when I could have made the journey in the space of a day; traveling by paths unknown to ordinary men. I could have employed charms of concealment and transformation. Now I am reduced to a powerless shell of what I was. I cannot even attempt it, Tuala; I doubt such skills will ever be within my reach again. And Uist, alas, is no longer with us. Of all the brotherhood,
the two of us were the only men who ever achieved mastery of such journeys, save for the one who taught us, and he is long departed.”
“Fola?”
The wise woman spread her hands helplessly. “I may be quick for an old crone, but not so quick as that. Ordinary walking is the best I can manage, and I don’t have the ear of wild creatures as some do. If we had Uist’s mare, now that would be a solution.
But Spindrift vanished when the old man left us. Wherever she went, she’s beyond our summoning.”
But Spindrift vanished when the old man left us. Wherever she went, she’s beyond our summoning.”
“Tuala,” Broichan said, “have you any source of help you can call on that we might not know of? This is beyond the abilities of men. The quickest message Aniel or Tharan could dispatch would not reach Bridei in time unless this is to occur much later than I believe it will. We must act immediately.
If you know any other solution, I hope you will tell us.”
If you know any other solution, I hope you will tell us.”
Tuala swallowed. “I hadn’t planned to speak of it,” she said. “But I see that now I must. I did have some … visitors … when I was younger. Two of them; folk from beyond the margins, a girl and a boy. They came often, but not at my bidding. They played a dangerous game with us, me and Bridei; both of us came close to death that night at
Pitnochie when Bridei and Faolan brought me home from the forest. We talked about it later. We thought maybe it was all for the purpose of testing our strength: his fitness to be king, mine to stand by his side. I suppose we passed the test.”
Pitnochie when Bridei and Faolan brought me home from the forest. We talked about it later. We thought maybe it was all for the purpose of testing our strength: his fitness to be king, mine to stand by his side. I suppose we passed the test.”
Broichan said not a word, only watched her, his dark eyes unreadable. After a little, Fola said, “And now? Do they still visit you? Would they help you,
if you asked?”
if you asked?”
Tuala felt her lips twist in a bitter smile. “They’ve never done my bidding before. I think they are more friends than foes, to the extent that their kind can understand such concepts as friendship. I haven’t seen them for years. Sometimes I hear whispers. They were in the oak tree, just before. But perhaps that was only my memory playing tricks.”
“They no longer come to you,
you say.” Broichan’s tone was almost hesitant. “But they visit Derelei.”
you say.” Broichan’s tone was almost hesitant. “But they visit Derelei.”
Tuala nodded, a lump in her throat. “I think so, yes. I’ve heard him trying to say their names. How did you know?”
“My powers of observation are not so dulled that I cannot detect what is clearly one half of a conversation, even if the speaker has not quite mastered language. The invisible presences to whom your son speaks
are not imaginary friends, but real ones. At least, one hopes very much that they are friends.”
are not imaginary friends, but real ones. At least, one hopes very much that they are friends.”
Other books
The Devil's Redhead by David Corbett
Danger Guys and the Golden Lizard by Tony Abbott
Summer at the Shore (Seashell Bay Book 2) by V. K. Sykes
When We Were the Kennedys by Monica Wood
Fortnight of Fear by Graham Masterton
Abandon by Carla Neggers
The Fortress in Orion by Mike Resnick
Beauty and the Beast (an erotic re-imagining) by Evers, Shoshanna
Cajun Gothic (Blood Haven) by Rawlyns, Nya
B-10279 Sobreviviente de Auschwitz by Enrique Benkel
