Authors: Juliet Marillier
Blade of Fortriu (68 page)
In the half-dark by the small fire Carnach’s man Gwrad had made for them, Bridei’s chieftains avoided one another’s eyes, and the silence drew out as each of them sought a solution. An open plain, limited cover, the Gaels now forewarned of their coming and of the size and makeup of their combined force, assuming Gabhran’s spies were doing their job: it added
up to a significant challenge.
up to a significant challenge.
“Ah, well,” Ged said after a little, “the Flamekeeper delights in setting tests for us, each one a little harder than the last. I hear the Gaelic archers aren’t bad. Given enough warning, they’ll pick us off before we get near enough to touch them.”
Fokel of Galany gave a little cough. The others fell silent. All eyes turned in his direction. Unlike Ged, Fokel
rarely spoke in jest; in fact, he did not speak at all in such councils unless he had a vital and usually startling contribution to offer. “One of my fellows happened to go out that way a couple of nights back,” he said casually. “All being well, he should slip back later tonight with information for us: Gabhran’s location and the possibilities for getting in behind him or, at least, finding a position
from which we can launch a flanking strike. With your agreement, Umbrig and I will take our men forward under cover of darkness and go to ground in readiness. I’ve other people out there with the express purpose of disabling the Gaels’ forward scouts and sentries just before we move. I may not be able to get word back to you of precisely where we are, but we’ll be in place to assist your frontal
assault, you have my promise on that.”
rarely spoke in jest; in fact, he did not speak at all in such councils unless he had a vital and usually startling contribution to offer. “One of my fellows happened to go out that way a couple of nights back,” he said casually. “All being well, he should slip back later tonight with information for us: Gabhran’s location and the possibilities for getting in behind him or, at least, finding a position
from which we can launch a flanking strike. With your agreement, Umbrig and I will take our men forward under cover of darkness and go to ground in readiness. I’ve other people out there with the express purpose of disabling the Gaels’ forward scouts and sentries just before we move. I may not be able to get word back to you of precisely where we are, but we’ll be in place to assist your frontal
assault, you have my promise on that.”
Bridei looked at him, brows lifted. Such enterprise was typical of Fokel; nobody could call him anything but bold. If he did not quite respect the rules of team play, his tactical flair was brilliant. Umbrig was beaming with satisfaction.
“Well done,” Bridei said. “I don’t need to tell you that the enemy must not be allowed to detect your presence so close
to his final position, since that would endanger not only your men but ours as well. Surprise has been at the heart of our success thus far. I know also that your men are highly skilled in what they do, able to undertake this independently and to endure days and nights on scant supplies and little rest. You drive yourselves hard. The Flamekeeper smiles on your courage. Let me know when the messenger
comes and when you are ready to leave. Gods willing, this will be the last battle of this campaign. Your men should go forward with the blessing of the gods in their hearts and the exhortation of their king fresh in their minds.”
to his final position, since that would endanger not only your men but ours as well. Surprise has been at the heart of our success thus far. I know also that your men are highly skilled in what they do, able to undertake this independently and to endure days and nights on scant supplies and little rest. You drive yourselves hard. The Flamekeeper smiles on your courage. Let me know when the messenger
comes and when you are ready to leave. Gods willing, this will be the last battle of this campaign. Your men should go forward with the blessing of the gods in their hearts and the exhortation of their king fresh in their minds.”
When the time came, he spoke to them as king of Fortriu and as comrade-in-arms. In the darkness they gathered around him, the lean, sharp-eyed fighters of Fokel’s troop
and the hulking Caitt warriors, all spiked weaponry, shaggy beards, and skin cloaks, and he spoke to them as he would to a brother, honestly and with passion. Their wild appearance no longer gave him pause; it had become familiar on the long marches, the tense, uncomfortable nights and grueling, bloody days. Bridei had seen the men-at-arms from Pitnochie and Raven’s Well and Thorn Bend grow more
gaunt and disheveled themselves as the campaign drew on. He knew that if he bent to examine his reflection in pond or stream he, too, would have something of the same look. His chin bore an unkempt beard, his hair was down to his shoulders, and he smelled no better than the rest of them. Discipline kept weapons sharp, blades clean, arrows in good repair. It kept boots maintained and leather armor
supple. Such niceties as combing, shaving, and donning fresh smallclothes must be set aside for the time when this army might once again cross the home threshold and embrace wife, sweetheart, or children.
and the hulking Caitt warriors, all spiked weaponry, shaggy beards, and skin cloaks, and he spoke to them as he would to a brother, honestly and with passion. Their wild appearance no longer gave him pause; it had become familiar on the long marches, the tense, uncomfortable nights and grueling, bloody days. Bridei had seen the men-at-arms from Pitnochie and Raven’s Well and Thorn Bend grow more
gaunt and disheveled themselves as the campaign drew on. He knew that if he bent to examine his reflection in pond or stream he, too, would have something of the same look. His chin bore an unkempt beard, his hair was down to his shoulders, and he smelled no better than the rest of them. Discipline kept weapons sharp, blades clean, arrows in good repair. It kept boots maintained and leather armor
supple. Such niceties as combing, shaving, and donning fresh smallclothes must be set aside for the time when this army might once again cross the home threshold and embrace wife, sweetheart, or children.
He kept his address simple, and the men welcomed it. When it was done, he made a prayer, asking the Flamekeeper for victory. On the men’s behalf, he prayed also for survival, and for those to
whom that could not be granted, an honorable and merciful death. Then, in the firelight, each man came forward to a place Bridei had designated, and each set down a small stone. By the time all of Fokel’s men had stepped up as well as those of Umbrig’s force who were to take part in this covert sortie, a cairn had been erected in the clearing where they were assembled. When the main force moved
on they, too, would place markers here, each man in his turn. Later, on the homeward journey, those who had survived would each take back a stone. All knew that, when this was done, a smaller cairn would still remain. Each stone left behind would be a son of Fortriu. This glade would hold their memory through summer and winter, until the sapling birches grew up to shade the monument and moss and fern
crept gently over to blanket it in soft green. When men ceased to tell of these losses, when the story of them was forgotten, the trees would shiver, remembering. The little stones would hold it deep within them, each to its heart.
whom that could not be granted, an honorable and merciful death. Then, in the firelight, each man came forward to a place Bridei had designated, and each set down a small stone. By the time all of Fokel’s men had stepped up as well as those of Umbrig’s force who were to take part in this covert sortie, a cairn had been erected in the clearing where they were assembled. When the main force moved
on they, too, would place markers here, each man in his turn. Later, on the homeward journey, those who had survived would each take back a stone. All knew that, when this was done, a smaller cairn would still remain. Each stone left behind would be a son of Fortriu. This glade would hold their memory through summer and winter, until the sapling birches grew up to shade the monument and moss and fern
crept gently over to blanket it in soft green. When men ceased to tell of these losses, when the story of them was forgotten, the trees would shiver, remembering. The little stones would hold it deep within them, each to its heart.
TWO DAYS LATER the main force moved on toward its final battle. The weather was fair and the signs were good. One of the swiftest of Fokel’s men had run back
to inform them that the Gaelic army was moving up to position itself just where Talorgen had predicted, and that the Dalriadan numbers were considerably more substantial than Bridei and his chieftains had believed likely. Had intelligence somehow come to Gabhran early enough for the Gaelic king to summon aid from his Uf Néill kinsmen across the water? Bridei could have sworn Dalriada knew nothing
of the timing of his advance until the first Priteni attack on a Gaelic settlement not so very long ago. Faolan had been expert in the spreading of false information at the court of Dunadd. How could they have known?
to inform them that the Gaelic army was moving up to position itself just where Talorgen had predicted, and that the Dalriadan numbers were considerably more substantial than Bridei and his chieftains had believed likely. Had intelligence somehow come to Gabhran early enough for the Gaelic king to summon aid from his Uf Néill kinsmen across the water? Bridei could have sworn Dalriada knew nothing
of the timing of his advance until the first Priteni attack on a Gaelic settlement not so very long ago. Faolan had been expert in the spreading of false information at the court of Dunadd. How could they have known?
It was too late to ponder this at length. The army of Fortriu was committed to battle, deep in enemy territory, with such great gains behind them that they must now dare all and
finish this one way or another. The men were full of spirit, their eyes alight with the anticipation of triumph even as their faces betrayed the exhaustion of the long, hard campaign. They had rested well, camped for two nights in the shelter of birch woods. They were as ready as they’d ever be, and Bridei knew in his heart there was no choice but to go on.
finish this one way or another. The men were full of spirit, their eyes alight with the anticipation of triumph even as their faces betrayed the exhaustion of the long, hard campaign. They had rested well, camped for two nights in the shelter of birch woods. They were as ready as they’d ever be, and Bridei knew in his heart there was no choice but to go on.
He rode surrounded by the Pitnochie
men, Uven with his arm still strapped, Enfret and Cinioch watchful. At the rear, Hargest sat straight and proud. All of them, Bridei knew, could feel the presences of Breth and of Elpin like shadows riding beside them. The survivors wanted vengeance. They wanted Gaelic heads in payment for their slain comrades. At such a time, the place for a true son of Fortriu was out there in the thick of it,
striking his blows for the Flamekeeper and the return of the ancestral lands. Bridei knew he should not deny them that opportunity in what might be the final conflict. He would let them fight alongside Carnach’s mounted men, each in turn. It would be foolish to take only Hargest into battle at his side, but the lad could surely share that duty with either Enfret or Cinioch. It was time to give him
his chance.
men, Uven with his arm still strapped, Enfret and Cinioch watchful. At the rear, Hargest sat straight and proud. All of them, Bridei knew, could feel the presences of Breth and of Elpin like shadows riding beside them. The survivors wanted vengeance. They wanted Gaelic heads in payment for their slain comrades. At such a time, the place for a true son of Fortriu was out there in the thick of it,
striking his blows for the Flamekeeper and the return of the ancestral lands. Bridei knew he should not deny them that opportunity in what might be the final conflict. He would let them fight alongside Carnach’s mounted men, each in turn. It would be foolish to take only Hargest into battle at his side, but the lad could surely share that duty with either Enfret or Cinioch. It was time to give him
his chance.
His instincts told him the lad would survive; if anyone was big and fierce enough to frighten off a Gael or two it was this formidable young warrior. Once they got through this, once they were back at White Hill, Bridei planned to put the boy’s training in Garth’s hands. Garth would add self-discipline to the strength and skill Hargest already possessed. He himself would try to educate
Hargest in the art of considered debate and in the many shades of gray that existed between black and white. He’d ask his old tutor, Wid, to help with that.
Hargest in the art of considered debate and in the many shades of gray that existed between black and white. He’d ask his old tutor, Wid, to help with that.
“You’ll ride with me tomorrow,” he said now as Hargest, mounted on one of Umbrig’s solidly built hill ponies, came up alongside him. “Enfret and Cinioch will be part of the mounted charge. We need their skills on horseback. After that they’ll
take turns backing you up as my personal guard, depending on how the course of battle unfolds. You know your role: stay close, warn me of the unexpected, put my survival before the opportunity to take Gaelic heads yourself. We’ll both be part of the fighting, nonetheless. I’ve been through many battles with Breth and my two other personal guards, and we’ve accounted for a respectable number of
opponents between us. I don’t stand back and let my men die in my place. Yours is not an easy job. You’ll be wanting to charge in and forget all about me. You can’t do that, however strong the urge. There’s a symbolic importance attached to the king’s survival.”
take turns backing you up as my personal guard, depending on how the course of battle unfolds. You know your role: stay close, warn me of the unexpected, put my survival before the opportunity to take Gaelic heads yourself. We’ll both be part of the fighting, nonetheless. I’ve been through many battles with Breth and my two other personal guards, and we’ve accounted for a respectable number of
opponents between us. I don’t stand back and let my men die in my place. Yours is not an easy job. You’ll be wanting to charge in and forget all about me. You can’t do that, however strong the urge. There’s a symbolic importance attached to the king’s survival.”
“Yes, my lord king.” The look on Hargest’s broad face was arresting. His eyes, ever striking in their odd, light color, were now full
of a strange exaltation that seemed out of proportion with the opportunity Bridei was offering him. What young warrior would not prefer to be let loose in the battle proper, to test himself fully against the Gaels as Cinioch and Enfret would be doing? Bridei was struck by those eyes, which seemed almost blind in their fervor; by the fierce determination in the set of mouth and jaw. The boy was not
even of Fortriu itself, but of Caitt descent; his devotion was almost frightening.
of a strange exaltation that seemed out of proportion with the opportunity Bridei was offering him. What young warrior would not prefer to be let loose in the battle proper, to test himself fully against the Gaels as Cinioch and Enfret would be doing? Bridei was struck by those eyes, which seemed almost blind in their fervor; by the fierce determination in the set of mouth and jaw. The boy was not
even of Fortriu itself, but of Caitt descent; his devotion was almost frightening.
“Relax, Hargest,” Cinioch said. “Save that look for the Gaels, it’ll have them in screaming retreat before they get a chance to draw their swords.”
“I’ll do what I’m called to do.” Hargest’s tone matched his look; he sounded as if he’d as likely take to Cinioch himself with his knife as he would a Gael. “Pay attention
to your own mission and leave me to mine.”
to your own mission and leave me to mine.”
Bridei did not intervene. The men were keyed up, on edge. The Flamekeeper filled their veins not simply with surging blood, but with an excess of burning aggression that would carry them into battle with the name of Fortriu on their lips and in their hearts. Some would never leave the field of combat, save borne in the merciful embrace of Bone Mother.
Others would limp away, broken shells of brave warriors, blinded wrecks of Fortriu’s finest sons. Some would live to take their stones back from the cairn and to march home in triumph.
Others would limp away, broken shells of brave warriors, blinded wrecks of Fortriu’s finest sons. Some would live to take their stones back from the cairn and to march home in triumph.
Triumph: it must be that. Had he not longed for such a day since the Dark Mirror first granted him its wrenching vision of cruelty and courage? Tomorrow Gabhran of Dalriada might kneel to him on the field of war
and forfeit his territories in the west.
Fix on that,
Bridei told himself as Snowfire carried him steadily southward, and around him his longest-serving and most trusted men and his newest and youngest guard rode in stern-eyed formation.
Triumph. Victory. The will of the gods.
But what he saw was that cairn, and a silent line of warriors, bloodied and bruised, filing past, each to take one stone
in his hand; men whose eyes were full of the memory of comrades lost, of desperate small struggles, a hundred moments of fear and horror and helplessness, a hundred blows to heart and mind and spirit. Their fingers reached to touch other stones:
This was set here by my brother, this by my friend; the man who laid this down is never coming home
. Bridei closed his eyes a moment, bringing Tuala into
his mind, Tuala who had told him with grave calm that for himself, death would hover so close he would feel the beat of its dark wings. He heard her voice:
Do not lose faith, dear one. The gods smile on you. Go on bravely and win your war for Fortriu. A candle burns for you at White Hill. When this is done come home, and weep your tears, and be comforted
.
and forfeit his territories in the west.
Fix on that,
Bridei told himself as Snowfire carried him steadily southward, and around him his longest-serving and most trusted men and his newest and youngest guard rode in stern-eyed formation.
Triumph. Victory. The will of the gods.
But what he saw was that cairn, and a silent line of warriors, bloodied and bruised, filing past, each to take one stone
in his hand; men whose eyes were full of the memory of comrades lost, of desperate small struggles, a hundred moments of fear and horror and helplessness, a hundred blows to heart and mind and spirit. Their fingers reached to touch other stones:
This was set here by my brother, this by my friend; the man who laid this down is never coming home
. Bridei closed his eyes a moment, bringing Tuala into
his mind, Tuala who had told him with grave calm that for himself, death would hover so close he would feel the beat of its dark wings. He heard her voice:
Do not lose faith, dear one. The gods smile on you. Go on bravely and win your war for Fortriu. A candle burns for you at White Hill. When this is done come home, and weep your tears, and be comforted
.
IT WAS CLOSE to the festival
of Measure when Ana and her companions walked into Abertornie, a trio of weary and disheveled wayfarers brown from the sun and worn to the bone with long journeying on scant supplies. They had obtained this and that along the way. Ana was clad in the serviceable homespun garments of a farmer’s wife. She had been relieved to discard the threadbare remnants of what had once been a delicately embroidered
wedding gown. Ged’s household was shocked enough at her reappearance and the tale she had to tell. At least she need not make her entrance in rags.
of Measure when Ana and her companions walked into Abertornie, a trio of weary and disheveled wayfarers brown from the sun and worn to the bone with long journeying on scant supplies. They had obtained this and that along the way. Ana was clad in the serviceable homespun garments of a farmer’s wife. She had been relieved to discard the threadbare remnants of what had once been a delicately embroidered
wedding gown. Ged’s household was shocked enough at her reappearance and the tale she had to tell. At least she need not make her entrance in rags.
At Abertornie she borrowed a somewhat better gown at the insistence of Ged’s wife, Loura, and submitted to being thoroughly bathed by a pair of energetic maidservants. It felt odd to be clean again. Her hair had grown back to below shoulder length.
After rinsing with chamomile water and strenuous, painful brushing, it turned to a wild nimbus of gold threads. She looked at her reflection in Loura’s bronze mirror and did not recognize the strange woman who looked back, skin tanned, figure so lean the gown hung in loose, folds around her, eyes wary and quizzical. This capable-looking person was not the bride who had ridden out from White Hill
in springtime. Ana thanked the servants and went out into the garden. After so long living in the open, she felt uncomfortable to be long indoors.
After rinsing with chamomile water and strenuous, painful brushing, it turned to a wild nimbus of gold threads. She looked at her reflection in Loura’s bronze mirror and did not recognize the strange woman who looked back, skin tanned, figure so lean the gown hung in loose, folds around her, eyes wary and quizzical. This capable-looking person was not the bride who had ridden out from White Hill
in springtime. Ana thanked the servants and went out into the garden. After so long living in the open, she felt uncomfortable to be long indoors.
The household was subdued, for it had been necessary to break the news of the loss of her escort, the girl Creisa among them, and a family was in mourning. Ged himself was long gone, and his fighting men with him. Bridei’s army would be well into Dalriadan
territory by now. If everything had gone to plan, the war would be all but won.
territory by now. If everything had gone to plan, the war would be all but won.
Ana felt a certain reluctance to reach the journey’s ending, now they were so close. At White Hill she would have to explain what had happened in full. She would have to tell Broichan and Aniel and Tharan that the mission had failed and that there was no alliance with Alpin. She would have to face the strong possibility
that the powerbrokers of Bridei’s court would hatch new plans for her, plans that would involve another chieftain, another marriage. Perhaps she had acquired some courage on the journey; perhaps she had learned to stand up for herself. All the same, the temptation to put off the day when she must tell them she would no longer do their bidding was strong. She longed to stay here a while and
rest. She longed for time alone with Drustan.
that the powerbrokers of Bridei’s court would hatch new plans for her, plans that would involve another chieftain, another marriage. Perhaps she had acquired some courage on the journey; perhaps she had learned to stand up for herself. All the same, the temptation to put off the day when she must tell them she would no longer do their bidding was strong. She longed to stay here a while and
rest. She longed for time alone with Drustan.
Ana walked under the shade of a double row of pear trees, the sward soft under her borrowed slippers. The day was warm, the sky cloudless; the song of birds filled the garden, and insects chirped and buzzed in every corner. A hoodie poked about in the roots of an ancient tree, fossicking for beetles. A scarlet-throated crossbill perched in the branches,
watching Ana with its head to the side. The men had been shepherded away by an ancient servant when she was conveyed to her bath; they should be ready by now.
watching Ana with its head to the side. The men had been shepherded away by an ancient servant when she was conveyed to her bath; they should be ready by now.
Other books
Taste (Sense Series Book 2) by Lake, Ellen
The Secret Book of Grazia dei Rossi by Jacqueline Park
The Golden Bell by Autumn Dawn
Marea viva by Cilla Börjlind, Rolf Börjlind
The Brontë Plot by Katherine Reay
The Love-Charm of Bombs by Lara Feigel
A Little Time in Texas by Joan Johnston
Drawn to Life by Wagner, Elisabeth
Dragon Knight's Ring (Order of the Dragon Knights Book 5) by Mary Morgan