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Authors: Juliet Marillier

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BOOK: Blade of Fortriu
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“A desire for love, I think it was,” Bridei said quietly, feeling his
own failure as an ache in the chest. “I tried to help him. I could have done much for him, if he’d given it time. Hargest had promise; all he needed was good guidance until he recognized his own strength and his own humanity.”
“I did try, Bridei,” muttered Umbrig, wiping his face on the cat-skin border of his massive cloak. “I tried over seven years. There’s bad blood in that family. Strange
stories; dark history.”
“You know the boy’s uncle, Drustan, is here? That it was he who brought the news of Alpin’s death?”
Umbrig stared at Bridei. “The mad uncle? Really? What side was
he
fighting on?”
“He intervened to save my life. You’ll see wounds on your foster son’s face. His uncle inflicted those. But the mortal injury was my own doing. I didn’t mean to kill him, Umbrig. I sought only
to prevent him from piercing my heart with his knife. I would give much to have that time again, to turn him from his mission and to guide him into a future of bright possibilities.”
“You’re not a god, Bridei, for all so many folk come close to thinking so. You can’t get it right every time. Maybe it was meant for Hargest to go now, today. The lad was eaten up by rage and frustration. Perhaps
he’d never have been satisfied. Perhaps he’d never have accepted the fact that he wasn’t Alpin’s legitimate son and heir. Who knows? We lost scores of good men on this field today. In the long run, the boy’s just another casualty of war.” Tears were flowing freely down the broad, tattooed features.
“Thank you, Umbrig,” Bridei said, bowing his head. “This places me in your debt, and I will honor
that when you need it. Just tell me quickly: this mad uncle we spoke of, has he earned that description through temperament or infirmity? Drustan does not seem to me addled in his wits.”
Umbrig grimaced. “Haven’t seen him for years,” he said, “not since the lot of us were children. He was all right then, bit of a dreamer, but nothing unusual. Tale goes that he killed Alpin’s wife and child, and
his brother declared him a danger and locked him up for safety. Seven years ago; that’s just after Hargest was sent to me. So he’s out, is he? That’ll be interesting. You realize Drustan owns the anchorage in the west? The one Alpin’s been using for his seaborne forces? And I suppose Briar Wood will go to him now as well. That’s going to make him one of the most powerful chieftains in the north.”
“Interesting,” said Bridei. “I must ask Talorgen if there were Caitt ships among those he sank on the way here. But first, I will seek out this uncle and put some questions to him. Farewell, Umbrig. Again, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about the lad.”
“You don’t need to,” Umbrig said. “It’s written all over your face. Go on, then. I’ve men to bury. I’d best start now and get it done with.”
 
 
DRUSTAN WAS ALONE, standing at some distance from the campfire Uven had made. It had been a very long day. Dusk was falling now and the breeze had dropped to a gentle westerly, bearing the salt smell of the sea. Many birds flew overhead, calling to the coming night, and the red-haired man was gazing up at them. His arms were wrapped across his chest. As Bridei approached, he saw that Drustan
was shivering and that his jaw was set tight as if to keep his teeth from chattering. A metal bowl of food had been set on a flat rock nearby; it appeared untouched.
“Drustan?” Bridei kept his tone soft. He had not come alone; Cinioch and Uven were close by and watching out for him. While he had never quite shed his desire to be able to move about without constant protection, he accepted that
today was somewhat exceptional. He had chosen to trust Hargest, and Hargest had almost killed him. Today, his army had won Dalriada back; the peace depended on him.
“My lord king.” Drustan unfolded his arms and inclined his head courteously. His voice was not quite steady.
“You seem unwell. Shall we sit?”
“I am well enough. To change my form takes some toll on me; to ride straight into a conflict
after what had occurred tested me severely. Besides …” Drustan hesitated.
“Come, sit.”
They settled on the ground, side by side. This field provided few comforts.
“As you doubtless saw, I have been trained to fight,” Drustan said, “and to do it capably. I’ve been a prisoner, seven years locked up with just the one guard. To pass the time and to keep me from madness and despair, he taught me
what he knew. The moves, the skills, those I enjoy. It is good to exercise body and mind. Riding into battle and employing those skills to maim and kill is alien to my nature. It troubles me. And I am unaccustomed to being among folk. I offer my apologies. Your men must have thought me churlish and ungrateful.”
Bridei absorbed this speech, which had contained several surprises. Things being as
they were, he was unlikely to have time to get to know this intriguing man very well, for a while at least. “Drustan,” he ventured, “I have a number of questions to ask you. Indeed, I scarcely know where to begin. Umbrig told me you were locked up by your brother for a serious crime. A heinous crime.”
“You wish to ask if this is true? Why would you believe me over Umbrig, whom you already know?”
“Umbrig tells only what he has heard. You are in a position to tell the truth.”
“I am innocent of that crime.” Drustan turned his lambent eyes on Bridei. “Do you trust your man Faolan?”
This was unexpected. “With my life,” Bridei said.
“He knows I am innocent. He will speak in my support. So will Ana.”
Something in Drustan’s tone caught Bridei’s attention. “You refer to the royal hostage,
Ana of the Light Isles, whom we sent to wed your brother?”
Drustan lowered his eyes. A little smile curved his lips. “She never doubted me,” he said. “Even when I myself was unsure, she trusted in my innocence. They have been true friends to me, the two of them.”
“You surprise me. According to Faolan, he doesn’t have friends.”
“You and I know that he does.”
“I think you’d better tell me the
whole story,” Bridei said. “We don’t have much time; in the absence of my druid, I must conduct a ritual before nightfall. And I have a request to make of you, but it depends on your answers to my questions.”
“I wish to ask a question of you, before I tell our tale: mine and Faolan’s and … Ana’s.” There it was again, the name spoken with such delicacy and passion that one could not hear it without
a jolt to the heart.
“Ask, then.”
“You fought and killed today as we all did. You took your place among your warriors and led by example as a true king should. Indeed, it seemed you chose to set yourself at hazard; to conceal the signs of your royal status until the very end, taking your chances with the rest of your men. You were courageous, decisive. Now you appear calm and controlled. But
I saw in your face that you relished the shedding of blood no more than I did. This interests me. Your Faolan speaks of you almost as if you were a god … No, that’s wrong, he is not a man who places much trust in things spiritual. He sees you as a leader without peer, and as a man whose example is outstanding in every way. He sees you also as a friend, although he will not acknowledge it.”
There
was a silence. Then Bridei said, “What is the question?”
“How do you reconcile these things?” Drustan asked, placing his arms around his knees. “How can you bear it?”
Bridei managed a smile. “At times like this,” he said, “with considerable difficulty. I was raised by a man who understood what a king must be; he prepared me well. I have folk at White Hill, and chieftains here in the field, who
support me with all they have to give. And there’s my wife. Without Tuala I couldn’t make sense of any of it. She is my anchor, my still center, my heart and my gift.” It felt odd, yet strangely right, to be confiding this to Drustan, whom he had known for so short a time. In a curious way, the bird-man reminded him of the old druid Uist, who had ever seemed full of an Otherworldly radiance and
wisdom, even in the darkest times, as if he stood outside the ordinary rights and wrongs of human business.
Drustan was smiling. “Thank you,” he said. “I honor you, and I pity you. Each of us has his own shackles. I escaped mine with the help of remarkable friends. But you can never escape.”
“You misunderstand me. I love the gods and I love my country. The duty of leadership has called to me
from the first, and I follow this path willingly.”
“Love sustains you. Tuala is a remarkable woman. I will tell my story now.”
His account was long, dark, and stranger than anything Bridei could have anticipated. Ana’s role seemed utterly out of keeping with what he knew of her nature, and some of Faolan’s choices surprised him, but the tale was compelling and he believed it. He listened in
total silence until Drustan brought his story to a close with Tuala’s request that he act as messenger. “And I knew,” the red-haired man said, “I knew in my heart that this assassin was none other than my brother’s son. As soon as the queen spoke of his eyes, I knew. I did not tell them. For Faolan in particular, asking me to intervene in such a situation would have sat very ill.”
“Why for Faolan
especially?”
“There is an event in his own past, an experience I cannot share with you, for the account of it was given in confidence. Faolan would be loath to ask a man to put the life of a kinsman at risk. That was always possible, even though, as far as we knew, all I had to do was deliver a warning. I did not wish to reveal my blood bond with Hargest to him.”
“I’m sorry. Had I known—”
“It could have made no difference, my lord. I made a choice. Your survival outweighs Hargest’s many times over. You are the Blade of Fortriu. He was—”
“Just a confused and angry boy? I can’t see it that way, Drustan. It seems to me a man is a man, and each small passing deserves an equal share of tears. I could have helped that lad; he could have been something, I know it. Now another friend has
entrusted his son to me, and I fear I will botch the task all over again. Outstanding example? At times like this, I feel as if I’m blundering along in the dark.”
“You need your wife beside you. You need to shed your tears, as we all must, and recognize your own weaknesses, and take time to recover your courage. But you have no time.”
Bridei stared at him. “How can you know this? How can you
understand so well?”
“Perhaps because I came close to despair myself, despair, violence, self-destruction … Without Deord, I could not have survived that. Without Faolan, I would not have escaped. Without Ana …”
The flow of words ceased. From beyond the campfire, someone was calling Bridei’s name. “Go on,” he said. “I imagine you wish to make this request of yours.”
Drustan gave a sigh. “I
will not ask you. Not now. Let it wait until your work is done here and you are returned to your home hearth and the ones you love. Such matters are best not spoken of in such a place of death.”
Bridei nodded. He was reluctant to make his own request, for it seemed too much to ask. Drustan, for all his openness and understanding, looked drained by exhaustion. He said instead, “What are your plans
for the future? White Hill is open to you, if you wish to remain with us a while.”
Drustan smiled. “Thank you, my lord. The queen also offered the hospitality of your court. I need time to come to terms with what has happened. But I must return to Briar Wood before too long, and then to the west. I wish to clear my peaceful waterway of my brother’s fighting ships.”
“Drustan—”
“I will bear the
news of your victory home in the morning,” said the red-haired man, forestalling Bridei’s question. “At dawn I will go. By evening your people will know that you are safe.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say nothing. I saw the look in your wife’s eyes. With every breath, she was willing your survival. Besides, I have my own powerful reason for a swift return to White Hill.”
“Drustan?”
“Yes,
my lord?”
“There’s more to this than you’ve told me, isn’t there?” Drustan was silent a moment. Then he said, “The facts, as I know them, I have set before you in full. But there were three of us on this journey. Each of us has a tale to tell. Seek Faolan’s accounting of it when you return home. That’s if he has not departed by then.”
“Departed? Where?”
“I believe you will find him much changed,
as indeed are Ana and I. He has unquiet spirits to set at rest before he can move forward, and a broken heart to mend. He does not wish you to see him thus unmanned. Ana bound him to stay until your return, but he may not have the strength to abide by that promise.”
“You alarm me, Drustan. Are you sure we’re both speaking of the same man?”
Drustan nodded. “It is the same, only changed. He will
try to flee from his friends; even from you. Tread carefully with him. We don’t want to lose him.”
“We?”
“Ana and myself.” This spoken softly and with pride.
“I see,” Bridei told him, guessing that there was at least one fact Drustan had not yet shared with him, and that it closely concerned the princess of the Light Isles. “I hope I will be home within a turning of the moon, but there is much
to be done here in the west. If you can, please ask Faolan to wait for me. Tell him it’s important. There’s a matter I wish to put before him, one on which he is better qualified than anyone to advise me.”
BOOK: Blade of Fortriu
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