Son of the Shadows (44 page)

Bran is here, and Eamonn is back. If Eamonn kills him, it will be my fault

. Terrible possibilities flooded my mind as we spiraled down the precipitous steps, I just below Niamh, leading her as she wailed in panic: "Liadan! Liadan, I don't think I can do this! It's so dark, and small!"

"Be quiet!" I hissed, and gripped her hand harder. "Keep your promise and do as I say." She seemed unaware of what was happening in the courtyard and I did not enlighten her; she was already near-paralyzed with fear, and her journey had barely begun. Best that she did not know how close pursuit might be.

We were very slow.

Come on, come on, Niamh

. At last we reached the foot of the steps and began to move along the short passageway.

"Careful here," I whispered. "The ground's wet. Don't slip." With any luck, nobody would look for us so early. The men would want to eat and rest first. There might still be time.

It was quiet outside. There were no voices save those of marsh birds calling as the day began to wake. A

blanket of mist, sickly yellow-gray, hung above the boglands and touched the stony shore. You would think even the Painted Man could not find a way through such a heavy veil. We reached the safe spot below the frieze of pointed stones. High above us on the wall, the sentries patrolled steadily to and fro.

Then Niamh gave a little sharp squeal and I whipped a hand up across her mouth. "Ssh," I hissed. "Do you want to get us all killed? These men are here to help us."

"Oh ... but ... but .. ."

"Keep her quiet, can you?"

My sister's frightened eyes stared first at the man who had spoken, the man who had loomed up suddenly before her with his shaven head and patterned skin, and then at the man behind him, whose flesh was black as night and whose white teeth were bared in a ferocious grin as he greeted me with a nod. Clearly, Niamh could not decide which of them was the more fearsome.

"Bran." I drew him slightly aside, speaking in an undertone. "Eamonn is returned, not long ago,
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with my sister's husband. The place is full of armed men."

"I know."

"You should go now and take the utmost care. Eamonn has vowed to destroy you and would carry it out with the least excuse. Please go quickly."

He frowned at me. "Don't concern yourself with me, I am not worth it. Besides, you'll have enough to worry about."

"I do concern myself with you. Why can't you listen to good advice for once in your life?"

"Come on," called Gull softly. He had taken Niamh's hand and was leading her, gently enough, across the exposed ground to the edge of the marshland, where the fog would conceal them.

"You think me a mercenary without conscience, a man without human feelings," whispered Bran, and his fingers came up to lie against my cheek, warm and alive. "And yet you wish me to be safe. That is not consistent."

"You have a low opinion of women, and you despise my family," I replied with tears in my eyes, for his touch set off an aching deep within me that was joy and pain rolled into one. "And yet, you risk your life to come here, just so you can tell me to go home. You risk it again to save my sister. Another woman.

You can hardly call that consistent."

We looked at each other, and despite myself, I felt a tear spill down my cheek.

"Don't. Don't," said Bran fiercely, and his thumb moved against my skin, as if to stem the flow.

"Thank you for coming," I whispered. "I don't know how I would have managed without you."

He said nothing, but as I looked at him I saw his eyes unshielded, deep, steady gray eyes. In them were the words he would not allow himself to speak. I put my hand up over his own.

There was a shout from above, and a twang, and an arrow whirred over II

I!

our heads to land just behind Gull where he guided the stumbling Niamh down to the concealment of the mist. Gull let out a curse, and Niamh a little shriek; and then it seemed she froze in fear and would go no farther.

"Brighid help us," I muttered, and picked up my skirts, ready to run down and push her bodily to safety, the stupid girl. Bran's voice halted me.

"No," he said. "Stay here where they cannot see you. Good-bye, Liadan."

Then he turned and ran out into the path of their arrows, a plain target to draw their fire from my sister;

and I stood and watched him because I had promised. I had bought his services, and that meant he made the rules. Up above on the walkway there was shouting, and I heard Eamonn's voice.

The arrows began to come with speed, and they were well aimed; but the running man was swift and clever, dodging and weaving, turning around to make a quick, vulgar gesture of defiance in the direction of his attackers. He could have covered the distance in half the time; but he made sure both Gull and the struggling, terrified

Niamh, whose dark hood had fallen back now to reveal clearly her cropped auburn locks, had vanished entirely into the clinging blanket of mist, before he bolted at full speed after them. The vapor swallowed them up, and they were gone.

Several things happened quite fast. Orders were given up above. Then men with swords and daggers and with spears and axes came around below the walls, running, and halted by the edge of the marsh near where I still stood motionless just below the rock barrier. Eamonn was among them, and it was he who

turned first and saw me. There was no need to school my features; I imagine I already wore a
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convincing look of shock and fear.

"Liadan! Thank the goddess you are safe!" I could see the fury in Eamonn's eyes, scarcely masked by his relief and concern. "I thought— what happened, Liadan? Tell me quickly, we must go after these men straightaway."

"I-I—"

"It's all right, you are safe now. Take a deep breath and try to tell me." He was gripping me by the shoulders, quite hard, his hands communicating the urge to pursue, punish, and destroy.

"Niamh—Niamh is gone," I gulped. "She's gone."

"Where?"

"I—I don't know." So far I had not had to lie. I was not very good at lying. And Eamonn knew me better than many. I would have to hope his fury might blind him to any deficiencies in my story. A story that must now be told rather differently since not only Niamh but both Gull and Bran had been in clear sight before they fled.

"Across the marshlands to the north. I don't know where or why."

Eamonn scowled. "Tell me everything you know, Liadan. As quickly as you can. Every moment counts.

How could you and Niamh come down here without my guards seeing you?"

"There's a hidden way. Didn't you know? A spiral staircase, a concealed door. In the alcove."

He swore under his breath. "You mean—but that way has been sealed as long as I can remember. There is no key. How could you get in?"

My hand touched the key where it lay in my pocket. It became necessary to lie. "I don't know. I woke up early this morning, and Niamh was gone. She left the secret door open, and I followed her. When I

came out, she was—she was—"

"All right, Liadan," he said with grave kindness. "You need not tell that part. How many men did you see?

Only two?"

I nodded mutely.

"You know what they were, I suppose?"

I nodded again.

"Why, that's what I ask myself," Eamonn muttered, pacing restlessly. "Why would he take her except in some gesture of insane defiance? What can he hope to gain by this? There's no reason to it."

I swallowed hard. "Do you think—do you think you can track them down and bring her back?"

It seemed to me the mist was starting to dissipate as the sun rode higher; I could see a short way across the marsh now, the dark, sucking mud punctuated here and there by low clumps of vegetation. They were too far apart for a man to make his way by leaping from one to the next.

Sooner or later he must put his foot on that black-brown spongy surface and trust it to carry his weight. A man who was unable to trust would only get over by knowing the way with total accuracy. Still, they were the best. If they said they could lead Niamh across, they could.

"Eamonn! For God's sake, what has happened? They said Niamh—" Eonn came up at a sprint, boots crunching on the rocky hillside. His hard features were set grimly, his face white.

"I regret this greatly," Eamonn said with formality, and I realized it Would, indeed, reduce his status among his allies that such a slip in security could occur on his very doorstep, almost under his nose. No wonder the Painted Man had the reputation he did for sheer effrontery. "It appears she

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has been abducted, and there is no doubt who is responsible. My guards saw them clearly. A
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man with coal black skin, and another who bore an unmistakable pattern on face and arm. These are the same fianna who slaughtered my warriors before my eyes. It is fortunate my archers drove them off before

Liadan, too, was taken."

"Which way?" demanded Fionn, and his expression reminded me that he was an Ui Neill and a leader of men. "I will cleave this fellow's limbs from his body when I find him! Which way?"

"You cannot go," said Eamonn bluntly. "This task is for me and those of my men who know the art of making such a crossing safely and with speed. I will do my best to bring your wife back, and I swear I

will not rest until the perpetrators of this outrage are brought to justice. Now I must go, and quickly."

"Justice?" Fionn's tone was savage. "Justice is too good for them. Give me a moment alone with those scum and an axe in my hand, and I'll carve a few more pretty patterns on their outlaw hides. Don't speak to me of justice or to Niamh's sister here."

"Go inside, Liadan." Eamonn was making his way down to the marsh's edge now. Two of his men were waiting, their green tunics replaced with garments of a mud-brown shade, their riding boots with softer, more pliable footwear. They were closely hooded, and they bore dagger and throwing knife at the belt.

They stood by as Eamonn stripped off his outer garments and quickly dressed in the same way.

Each man bore a strong staff, taller than his own height.

"All right," said Eamonn. "I'll lead the way; stay close behind and be ready to strike at short notice.

They've not so much of a start on us that we cannot make up the distance before they reach dry land.

The lady will slow them. Oran, your job is to get her safe away. Once you have her, turn back and leave the rest to us. Go carefully, she'll be frightened. Conn, you'll take the black man. The other is mine."

It is no wonder women have a reputation for patience that is not shared by men. We spend so much of our time waiting. Waiting for a child to be born. Waiting for a man to come home, from the fields, from the sea, from battle. Waiting endlessly for news. That can be the worst, as fear bites deep at the vitals and seizes the heart with chill fingers. The mind can make strange and terrible pictures while you are waiting.

Aisling was a kind girl, and I came to appreciate it through that long day. It was impossible to settle to anything. She provided mead and spiced fruits and a comfortable, private corner by a small ashwood fire, and words of sympathy. There was no need at all for me to feign distress.

"Sit down, Liadan," Aisling urged anxiously, her round, blue eyes full of concern. "Come on, sit by me.

I'm sure Niamh will come back safe. Eamonn knows those tracks like the back of his hand. He's very capable. If anyone can find her, he can."

Little did she know how her words made my heart sink. "I can't help it," I said. "It's so easy to make a

mistake, everyone say so, in the mist, trying to cover ground quickly—they could go off the track so easily, Aisling. How long, how long before we get a message?" My hands were shaking, and I clasped them tightly together.

"It could be awhile," Aisling said gently. "Fionn has sent his men around by the road to cut them off on the other side. Eamonn will go cautiously; there's no room for error on that path. One way or another, the outlaws will be trapped."

As we waited, Fionn paced up and down, grim faced and silent. He had opted to remain here at Sidhe

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Dubh, waiting for the first news, rather than ride with his men. Now he was like a caged beast, his eyes burning with anger, his hands balled into tight fists. I wondered whether he felt fear for his wife, if his spirit ached for her as mine did for Bran, knowing the men in green were close behind him with death in their eyes. Or was Fionn simply angry at the brazen theft of a prized possession, albeit one he had treated with contempt?

Time passed and there was no word. I found I could sit still no longer, and begged a respite to return to my bedchamber for a while. As I passed Fionn, he put a hand on my shoulder.

"Take heart," he said quietly. "All may yet be well."

I glanced at him, gave a nod, and walked away. There was nothing to read on his face but the look of a sorrowing husband waiting anxiously to learn if his wife lived or died. If it were not for the bruises, fading fast, there would be no evidence at all of what Niamh had endured, none but the testimony of the mind, and that I was forbidden to share. Dana help us all; what if they did not manage to get away? What if the

Painted Man was not the best after all, and Eamonn caught him? It was unthinkable. If that happened, I

would have no choice but to break my promise to my sister and tell the whole truth.

I!

I!

Trust. That's the price

. I could hear Bran's voice in my head as I went into the bedchamber and closed the door behind me. There was no room for doubt. I must have faith in him. I did have faith in him. So why was my heart still hammering, why was my skin sweaty and cold, why did I feel hollow and drained, as if I had lost a part of myself?

I lay on my bed for a while, gazing at nothing, and as I grew quiet I could feel the slight movements of the child inside me.

You will be a father before Beltaine

. I had not told Bran. How could I tell him? To know this would be nothing but another burden.