Icefall (31 page)

‘Brute,' said Seth fondly, caressing the roan's shoulder, bending his face to its neck. ‘I thought you'd eat that poor bloody mare of Grian's.'

‘Hah. I didn't like how he was looking at Grian.' I trickled the black's silky mane through my fingers, and aimed a dark look at Seth. ‘And speaking of merciless predators, I'll tell you something that's worrying me. There haven't been any Lammyr.'

‘Yet.' He avoided my eye, caught Branndair's yellow one instead, and smiled.

‘You've made a deal. With that … minister.'

‘You knew I had. You knew, Finn. What else could I do?'

‘All right. But a deal with Lammyr's never simple. I don't know what you agreed.'

He just shrugged.

‘The things you think it's fine to keep from me. So is it a good deal?'

‘I don't know.' He sighed, and I took it no further. I didn't want to break his mood.

Silly me.

The horses were calm enough by now to descend the steep hillside at an easy walk, and spare us a couple of broken necks. Beyond the trees the slope was drenched in bluebells. I'm not sure it registered, till I saw the drifts and shoals of them, that the summer was younger on this side. You'd think the sky had too much blue in it, that raw pigment of sky had leaked into dark puddles on the earth. We stayed silent as we rode down through them, leaving the oakwood to the south and east.

‘What are we looking for?' I asked after a while.

He gave me a sidelong smile. ‘A good place.'

‘And what makes a good place?'

He turned away to stare westwards, and the impatient roan scraped the ground with a hoof. Laying a hand on its neck, he took a breath.

‘Wild running water,' he said.

*   *   *

It turned out that he knew the place he wanted, and we rode around the perimeter of it. It was a broad stretch of flowering machair, hemmed in, but not too tightly, by cracked grey rocks that lurched out of the turf and ridged the skyline. And yes, there was water. A stream from the craggy northern hillside broadened to a tumbling river, broke into a meandering delta beyond the dunes, and met the sea. Wild water, running water.

Plenty of space for a fight.

‘The ground's good,' he said.

‘So I see.' I was too angry to say more.

‘Finn, give me a break.'

‘Yeah,' I said. ‘Yeah, I know.'

I reached for his hand, brought it to my lips and kissed it. Then thrust it away quite sharply, and lifted my arm for Faramach. I was still angry, after all.

He grinned. Nodded at the roan, who had angled his black head to give me a supercilious look.

‘He wants a run.'

‘He's a spoilt brat.' My black nipped fondly at the roan's muzzle.

‘But he's lovely really.'

I rolled my eyes.

‘Oh, what the heck. I think I want a run too.'

*   *   *

The black and the blue roan plunged down the dunes, furrowing the soft sand. They were already straining at their bits, flinging their heads up, dancing their hindquarters sideways, and when we reached firm sand we let them rip. There was a mile and a half at least of open beach, and the tide was out. All I knew for a while was the salt wind in my ears and nostrils, and the sharp air filling my lungs to bursting, and the limitless strength of the black horse, the deafening reverberation of its hooves.

I was laughing as I reined it in—just—beneath a black sheer rockface. Its massive hooves plunged in dry sand, sending tiny sandstorms flying. My laughter had a hysterical edge of ecstasy, and I leaned forward to embrace that familiar neck. How long had it been since we'd last done this? I didn't care to remember. I didn't care to remember how long he'd run wild without me. It had made him rebellious, and he'd played sillybuggers with me that night when I called him. Well, of course he would. But I'd never been afraid that he wouldn't come to me.

I twisted to jeer at Seth. ‘Beat youse! You pair of old ladies.'

The blue roan canted sideways as he dragged it to a halt beside me. Seth's eyes were dark and almost as sinister as the horse's. Faramach was ahead of us all, Branndair several lengths behind and sulking.

‘You'll be sorry you said that, Caorann.'

‘Hah!' ~
Make me sorry, Murlainn!

‘You asked for it!' Grinning, he leaned out of the saddle to snatch the black's reins.

I shrieked as his arm went round my waist, dragging me towards the roan. I shouldn't be so happy in the face of war, and the endgame. But just for those moments, I was. I was high on adrenalin, on speed, on love, and on the world where I belonged.

‘Finn! FINN!'

My head was spinning. It didn't occur to me that my horse was trying to spin too, thrashing wildly, until Seth finally stopped yelling at me and spoke straight into my mind.

~
Finn!

There was desperate shock in his yell as he lost his grip on my waist. The blue roan was bucking and plunging and it was all he could do to stay astride it as he reached hopelessly out for me. Branndair yelped with fear.

~
FINN!

‘Seth!' I was too shocked to be frightened as the black went back on its hind legs and screamed like a ban-sithe. Reflexively I leaned low on its neck, tightening my grip. It shook its neck and roared, then shot forward across the hard sand like a bolt from a crossbow.

It was going back to the sea.

I knew it like a bolt of electricity to my brain. It was going into the waves, because it had as good as forgotten I was there. It had as good as forgotten
me.
It was going into the sea whatever I did, and it did not know or remember or care that it would kill me.

What?
It was wearing its bridle, but I knew that the bridle was going with it, and that if I didn't remove its bridle, so would I. The horse wouldn't break its contract: it would simply take me too.

So why was I suddenly so ambivalent about ripping the damn thing off?

No point trying to get off the horse. I let go of the reins and flung my arms around it, pressing my cheek to its sweat-soaked neck.
‘What is it, eachuisge? What's wrong?'

The shouted words were almost inaudible, flung back into my throat by the speed of the wind, but its black eyes rolled back in its fearsome head, and I saw a spark of recognition there. It scrabbled to a halt, still tossing its head wildly.

‘STAY!' I screamed. Suddenly I'd rather go into the waves than lose it.

It froze, its entire body shuddering and jerking.

‘No!'
The grip of my legs began to fail, and I felt myself slide sideways even as the blue roan galloped foaming to my side. An arm went round me, and I smelt horseflesh and sweat, and leather, and Seth. It was all so real and primeval that my fuddled brain swayed in my skull, locking it down to sand and rock and the solid earth.

Seth pulled with all his strength and I was in his arms, astride the blue roan in front of him. By that time the black horse was ten metres away, hooves slamming through the shallow waves. It swung its head, fixing me with those black emotionless eyes, but its breath came in fiery snorts, and its scream was a tormented one.

‘DON'T GO!' I howled.

It tilted its head so far back on the black muscular neck it looked double-jointed, its jaws open in a scream at the sky.

‘Finn!' shouted Seth in my ear. ‘The bridle!'

‘What?'

His voice quietened. ‘It can't go if you don't take the bridle off.' He hesitated. ‘Not without you.'

Instantly the blue roan stilled, its entire body trembling as it stood foursquare before the black. The black calmed too, almost unnaturally quickly. It did not come towards us but watched me, head lowered, foam dripping from its bit.

‘Aw, no,' I moaned.

Seth's arms tightened around me, but I pushed them away. Swinging my leg over the roan's neck I slid to the ground, Seth's fingers around my arm. I hardly knew if he was trying to help me down or trying to hold onto me, and I had the feeling he didn't know either. But as my feet touched the ground, he let me go. Tentatively I took a few steps towards the black.

I reached out a hand, and it put its warm muzzle in my palm. Hot breath jetted out of its nostrils. Shaking, I unbuckled its throatlash and pulled the headstrap over its ears.

The horse lifted its head, black eyes fixed on mine as it opened its jaws and let the silver bit fall into my hand. The bridle fell across my arm, a tangle of leather straps, the bit cold and heavy against my palm. I found I was crying.

‘But you're all I've got,' I whispered in its ear. ‘You're all I have of him.'

The black horse nuzzled my hair, nibbling with its blunt teeth and giving it a rather sharp tug. Then it lifted its head and whinnied towards the west and the islands. The glare it gave me, as it glanced back, was devoid of all affection.

Behind me I heard a soft thud as Seth dismounted, then his footsteps on the firm sand. In an instant he was beside me, but he was looking at the black horse.

From across the years I remembered something Iolaire once told me:
You know these beasts, Finn. We call ourselves their masters, but they're nobody's servants.
Not since that day, the day Iolaire had said that, had I seen Seth look at a kelpie with that strange minatory kinship, that funny mixture of aggression and humility.

And look how that had ended: with Seth nearly eaten by a rogue. A chill rippled down my spine.

Without looking at me, Seth held out his hand but stayed motionless. Reluctantly, so reluctantly, I passed the bridle into his hand.

He didn't hesitate, but turned on his heel and flung the bridle as he'd flung it before, far into the roiling sea. Then he stepped back.

‘Go if you must,' he whispered.

The black horse reared and starfished, screaming with unearthly excitement. My own heart was brimming with that excitement, and the dread of separation. The horse wasn't gone yet. It was turning on its hind legs, yearning back at me. I was half-aware of Faramach dancing in the air above us, watching the scene, uninvolved, transfixed.

I could still go. If I ran to the horse now, threw myself onto its back, I'd go with it and I'd never be parted from it. It was going somewhere I wanted to be, somewhere I'd
always
wanted to be, and there I'd have a happiness I'd only ever dreamed of. An ecstatic, heartless happiness that no-one could take from me.
No-one.

Seth had not moved, and I realised he had barely even breathed. But his mind brushed against mine, tangled achingly inside it, and I knew he wasn't speaking to the horse. He never had been.

~
It isn't time, but go if you must. I'll follow. But not now.

I didn't turn. I didn't even glance over my shoulder. But I took a step back, then two. I stretched back my hand, very hesitantly, and felt his fingers lace into mine. I was touching blood and bone and skin and sinew once more, and I closed my eyes and breathed, sliding my fingertips up his wrist to feel the throb of his pulse. I didn't open my eyes again.

I heard the guttural scolding cry of a raven. Through the soles of my feet I felt the hoofbeats of the black horse as they thudded across hard sand, the vibration altering with the distance, then deepening and echoing dully as the kelpie went into the water. I didn't even see it disappear.

~
Love of my heart,
said Seth into the terrible silence.

I twisted into his arms, my tears damp against the skin of his neck. His pulse jerked unevenly.

‘He's gone,' I said bleakly. ‘Forever this time.'

~
You let him go.
Seth stroked my hair, relief and gratitude spilling out of him. ~
Love of my heart. You let him go.

*   *   *

I think I might have stared into the ocean, addled with confusion and grief, for hours if I'd had the chance. Seth was calming the roan, or at least pretending to; he rubbed its nose and spoke to it softly, letting me walk to the water's edge and try to understand why the black had left me. Left me
now,
of all times. I hated it for that, and I loved it, and I missed it already like a chunk of my heart.

‘Why hate it?' crooned a thin mocking voice. ‘It would have taken you, after all. It's hardly the animal's fault if your heart's onshore. Locked down in dullsville.'

I lifted my head and stared. Only a few feet away from me the lanky thing stood, skeletal hands in its coat pockets, a flat tweed cap tilted rakishly over one hairless brow. It stirred the sand coyly with bare webbed toes. The coat hung open to show ribs and cratered skin, and a belt of elaborately curved blades.

I gave a cry of disgust and drew one of my own daggers. The Lammyr didn't move, and I'd have let the blade fly into its heart if a hand hadn't closed round my arm, stopping me.

‘No, Finn.'

I swung round in disbelief. ‘Seth!'

‘No,' he said, and looked from me to the Lammyr, and back to me. He nodded at the thing, and watched its yellow teeth grin wider.

‘Leave it, Finn,' he said. ‘It's time.'

*   *   *

I don't like to describe Grian's face when we rode back into the camp, two of us on the roan and a Lammyr walking nonchalantly at its side. Branndair hung back fifty yards; he seemed incapable of lowering his hackles. Faramach rode on his back again, pecking at them, but Branndair couldn't even spare enough aggression to shake him off.

One by one the clann were rising to their feet, reaching for weapons, some of them simply gaping. The newer recruits didn't seem so fazed. They raised a few eyebrows, exchanged glances, but maybe under Kate's reign they were too used to Sithe and Lammyr acting as one.

Seth didn't dismount till he was right in the centre of the crowd. That meant the Lammyr could walk protected at his flank, bestowing its eerie grin on fighters whose fingers visibly itched on their sword hilts. When the blue roan stopped before Grian, Seth slid from its back and faced the seething healer. I jumped down behind him. The silence was ghastly.