Skin (47 page)

She alone has been touched by the Singing.

She has a light that belongs to no other.

H
EKA
GREW
WHITE
and silent with shock.

I wrapped her in blankets. ‘Stay here and make no sound,' I whispered. ‘I will come
back for you.'

My legs trembled as I climbed the ladder.

First the smell. Of smoke and blood.

Then the quiet. The inhuman quiet.

But it was the sight that met me when I stepped out of the sleephouse that finally
told me we were lost.

The smoke wrought a sinister false darkness. Caer Cad was an underworld. Every hut
was burned to the ground. Smoke drifted from blackened stumps, from charred remains
of children and livestock scattered through the smouldering ash. Strewn across the
ground before me were the bodies of the stablemen and Ruther's servants.

I began to walk.

Ianna and Cah lay near the scorched ruins of the kitchen. Their chests and bellies
opened, skirts torn away, their bodies defiled before they fell.

I walked through the Tribequeen's gate into the central street of Cad. Here were
the men, women and children of Cad, hacked and slain.

I found Fraid. She was stabbed in the face beyond recognition. I knew her only by
the arms and feet I had washed and tended for many years. Near her lay Fibor, Etaina
and the other warriors who had fought close at her side. And Manacca, slain at her
mother's skirts.

I viewed it as though in a dream. As though it were not true.

Farmers, smiths, builders, musicians, weavers I had known since sucklinghood lay
scattered, staining the streets black. Their hands were shredded from lifting their
arms to shield themselves without weapons. Others lay face down, the wounds struck
to the backs of their legs as they had tried to run.

This Roman army had not come to fight. It had come to wipe us away.

I drifted, like a spirit, through the bodies, toward the shrine.

There were a few yet alive. Crouched on the ground, they rocked back and forth, singing
their low songs of mourning. They called to the Kendra as I passed. Would she help
them? Would she sing their dead to Caer Sidi?

I could not go to them. I did not even look at them.

I walked down the spine of Caer Cad. All around me was the smell of burnt flesh and
bowels opened in terror, the sound of wailing, and the fallen bodies like autumn
leaves on the ground.

If there were any dead among the Roman soldiers, they had been carried away.

This was no honourable battle. These Roman soldiers had slain
people who could never
have equalled them in strength or numbers. Babes. Old women. Even animal kin. This
was a massacre, as Ruther had forewarned it. What was their purpose in this? How
did they earn glory by this inhuman fight?

And yet I saw my hand in it. Because they had expected compliance, and found resistance,
the Roman soldiers had fought angrily, impatiently. The killing was worse because
I had told the tribe to fight.

Near to the bread house—the oven still standing—I found Uaine almost, but not completely,
beheaded. Bebin lay a few steps on, terror frozen in her face, the gash in her throat
bearing strings of white tendon.

Her injured boy child kneaded her breast, still seeking milk, his plump cheeks sprayed
with her blood.

I lifted him and saw the wound at his side. Too deep to treat, yet shallow enough
that he may have lived another hour or two. I pulled Bebin's knife from her hand,
stilled him quickly and walked on.

From the peak of Cad Hill, I saw the camp in the west, the soldiers gathering around
fires next to the Nain. Their work was complete.

At the door of the shrine was a pile of old man with pale robes and silver hair.
The sight of him ignited me and I ran the last few steps to his side. He was sliced
neatly beneath his left ribs, his face drained to the colour of chalk. He would not
have fought. He would have stood before them with the names of his beloved Mothers
on his lips. But what was this? Blood still seeped from the wound in a weak pulse.
He lived.

I dropped to my knees. ‘Journeyman?'

At the sound of my voice his eyes drifted open. In them, I saw the courage and faith
that had never wavered, and it broke me in half. ‘I was wrong, Llwyd.' My voice was
hollow. ‘I needed skin to protect you.' I paused, scarcely able to breathe. ‘I did
not transcend it…no one can—'

He frowned, his lips parting as blood welled at the corners. ‘And now?' he uttered,
searching my eyes. ‘Do you have skin now?'

‘Yes,' I whimpered, wincing at its uselessness. ‘But it came too late. I am sister
to the dog, Journeyman! The Mothers did not need it, but I needed it. Forgive me,
beloved Llwyd. I am no Kendra. I have betrayed you all.'

‘No,' he rasped. His face was greying, yet his gaze sharpened. ‘The failure is ours.
You have shown us the truth. Skin is the law of all life—' he paused, his chest rattling
as he laboured for breath, ‘—but it is something other than what we have known.'
His eyes closed. Then slowly he looked upon me once more. ‘You always had skin.'

I stared into his eyes. Even moments from death, his strength held me.

‘You were always the Kendra,' he whispered.

Then I heard his final breath and watched his life end.

I rose to my feet. With his death I was at last awakened to this slaughter. ‘Do you
know this man you have killed?' I screamed into the smoke-filled sky. ‘Do you know
his greatness? Do you know what you have destroyed?'

I ran to the outer wall of the township and looked down. Our most sacred part of
the river Nain was where they washed their knives and rinsed their dirty bowls. They
camped in the Mothers' place, the northwestern place, where my womb sister had been
slain. That death was a gift, offered with love and great reverence. That was how
we killed. Not like this.

Standing high above their smoking fires, I held my arms to the sky. With every part
of my being I drew spirit to set a geas against them. A sudden cold wind curled up
from the valley. The smoke clouds shifted and swirled. My Kendra's power was summoning
weather. I reached my fingers into the furious sky. ‘I curse you soldiers of Rome,'
I screamed down to them. ‘For this devastation that you
have inflicted, may you be
crippled by anguish and shame. May you be overcome with the weakness and suffering
of a woman raped. May this remain on you for every night and day of your lives.'

My curse echoed like thunder and the soldiers below looked up at its sound.

If I were caught I would be killed. I strode back to Llwyd and quickly whispered
the chants that would carry him to Caer Sidi, tucking his adder stone talisman into
the front of his robe. I pulled the knife from his belt so the Romans could not take
it, and ran back to the sleephouse, murmuring what blessings I could, as I passed,
to honour the dead.

Heka waited in the storepit just as I had left her.

‘Come,' I urged, pulling her gently to her feet. ‘Do as I say and we may be safe.'

She was weak and compliant as I fastened her robe.

I led her from the chamber and through the township to the northern gateway, steadying
her as she took in the sight of the slaughter.

We kept ourselves hidden by the hedges that lined the field lanes, but there was
a short distance where we would need to pass close to the legion's camp, if we were
to reach the river track.

I stood at the end of the hedge, Heka behind me, and peered around at the camp. The
men were so strange, so different from us, yet all dressed alike: one beast made
of many, like a swarm of wasps. I picked up only fragments of their Latin tongue,
but their laughter, the irreverence with which they sat on our sacred place, was
unmistakable. They were the mighty and all others must fall.

Some of the tribesmen of Cad sat at the camp's periphery, unwounded, but bound by
rings about their necks or ankles. One of them stood and, with what little movement
the chain at his leg afforded, took a few steps to the edge of the camp. He stared
southward
toward the hill. It was Ruther. He had been spared.

Despite my stillness, his eyes fell upon me.

With Heka's hand gripped in mine, I took a step forward.

His lips parted. Would he call my name? He glanced around at the camp, the soldiers
lulled and drowsy with their morning's kill, then looked back, nodding me on.

We moved lightly, with the rhythm of the wind.

The Mothers protected us. Ruther alone saw us pass.

The farmhouse was empty, but two grey horses still grazed the house paddock. We ate
bread and milk that we found inside, then I roped the stronger of the two horses
and helped Heka mount.

‘Ride to the north,' I told her, pushing the last of the bread into her belt pouch.
‘Head for Siluria, where Caradog hides. It may take some days, but his people will
give you refuge. Tell what has happened. Tell to all the nature of this enemy.'

‘And what of you?' she said. ‘There is another horse. Will you not come?'

‘No.' I handed her the head rope. ‘I am still needed here.' I untied Llwyd's knife
from my belt and gave it to her. ‘This will gain you much coin.'

She hooked her tangled hair behind her shoulders and gathered the reins. ‘Thank you,'
she said.

I looked up, my hand resting on the mare's smooth flank. ‘Thank you also,' I said.
‘Thank you for giving me my skin.'

‘It came too late,' she stated.

‘It came by its own course.'

‘Farewell, Ailia.' She stooped down to kiss my mouth. The first and only kiss I had
been given from kin.

‘Farewell, sister,' I whispered as she rode away.

Only when Heka was disappeared from view did I allow my legs
to weaken, my breath
to shudder in grief. I sank to the ground and lay on the grass. As much as I tried
to still it, the shaking would not cease. Too many had died. How did I deserve to
survive? Llwyd was wrong. I was no Kendra. There was nothing I could bring to my
people now.

As I curled in a ball, something rustled behind me. The soldiers had found me. I
buried my face in my arms. Let them come. Something nudged the back of my neck. But
it was not a sword or a soldier's foot. It was a whiskery snout and a cold, wet nose.
I lifted my face, disbelieving, then reached out and pulled her to my chest. Her
rough tongue scraped my cheeks.

‘Neha.' I breathed her warm fur. My sister dog.

We lay unmoving together, her heart whirring under my grasp, until I had the strength
to rise again. ‘Come.' I brushed the grass off my skirts. ‘It is time for us to get
Taliesin.'

She trotted beside me as I walked to the Oldforest. At least I would be safe there
from the soldiers. With every step I forced myself to silence the warning of the
Fire Mothers. I forced myself to hope that my sword would still cut.

At the mouth of the Oldforest, Neha stopped.

I turned back to face her. ‘Do not abandon me,' I whispered.

For the first time, she came.

Already the forest was lively with the dead, howling and unsettled, as they moved
among the trees. I sensed their panic in the shadows and in the bleats of the owls.
They were calling on me to give them their rites so they could passage in peace to
Caer Sidi.

I staggered among them, cycling the chants and poems that would free their souls.
There were so many. The light deepened. At last my voice was hoarse and my legs were
buckling, but the forest was quiet.

I returned to the path. There was one left still to save. My sword had killed. It
would need every shred of my strength, my knowledge, to bring Taliesin through.

As I walked onward, I thought on what we would do once he had been freed. We could
not return to Cad. We would have to stay forest-hidden for some time. Taliesin was
skilled in hunting arts and I could help us find our way northward until we reached
safer tribelands. There would be no hardship with him at my side.

We came to the pool. A fine mist rose off the water, coiling around the hazel branches,
staking, with its watery tendrils, the boundary between our place and the realm of
the Mothers.

Neha stood beside me at the water's edge.

Through the thickening veil, I sensed the presence of Tara, Steise, and all the women
who kept the knowledge in their magical otherworld. Their voices echoed over the
distance, mingling with calls and rustles of the forest.

The mist started to close in, heavy and wet.

‘Taliesin!' I cried.
Let him come. Let him come
. ‘Taliesin!' My voice was ugly with
fear. I stared hard into the whiteness, unsure if he would appear.

And then, just as it had rolled in, the mist began to thin before me, and he was
standing on the other side of the river. Thinner, weaker, beneath his rough shirt
and trousers, he seemed altered. But still it was
his
form that waited, hopeful,
before me. His beautiful spirit. ‘Ailia?' he called, his expression uncertain.

‘I am here!' I cried, laughing with relief. I could scarcely hold the sight of him
as the mist ebbed and surged with its own living force.

A smile broke over his face. ‘I can hear you!' he called. ‘But I cannot see you.
Can you cut the mist?'

Frantically, I tugged free my sword and plunged it into the space between us. The
air shuddered and rippled from where my strike had disturbed it, but no hole was
cut.

‘Ailia?'

‘Yes! I am here.' I slashed into the vapour, ‘Stay near!'

Neha stood beside me, her head thrust forward, hackles raised. She growled warily
at the eddying vision.

I stumbled into the shallows, stabbing at the veil. But the membrane did not yield.
Again and again I struck it, willing the skin to tear with all my being. It bent
and moved, yet held intact.