Gavin Smith - The Age of Scorpio

The deer could have fed many. Britha had thought it too much for the three of them, but they had torn into it ravenously. There would be little left for the wolves and the crows. Teardrop was cutting off the remaining meat and putting it into a leather bag. She could see that it contained salt.

‘That’s no way to salt meat,’ Britha said.

Teardrop just smiled. ‘We have a way.’

‘What did you see? When you ate of his flesh?’ Fachtna asked, spearing another piece of meat with his dirk and dipping it into the wooden bowl containing the preparation of wine and berries that Teardrop had made. Britha didn’t answer.

‘Those are dark magics,’ Teardrop said.

‘We can eat what we kill,’ Britha said haughtily, meeting Teardrop’s stare until he turned from her. Britha turned to Fachtna and stabbed her dirk point towards Teardrop. ‘I saw his real face, what he is.’

‘That is not my real face,’ Teardrop said quietly. ‘Only what I must be to serve…’ His voice trailed away. He sounded sad. Fachtna was watching him thoughtfully.

‘What are you then?’

This time Teardrop met her gaze unflinchingly.

‘Would you tell me all your ways, your secrets?’

This time it was Britha who looked away.

‘I felt the demon, burning in me, trying to consume me, make me a slave like all the others. I saw people who thought they were dead, who chose to be slaves and a dark man.’ Fachtna and Teardrop exchanged looks. Britha did not notice. Tears sprang to her eyes. ‘I saw my people caged, in the sea, and felt their fear and their pain as they died by fire…’

Fachtna was looking at her sympathetically.

Teardrop looked angry. ‘To come here…’ he muttered.

‘Was there anything else?’ Fachtna asked gently.

Britha’s head snapped around to look at him. She had disliked the sympathy in his voice. She was angry through her tears.

‘There was something under the water,’ she said. Fachtna and Teardrop exchanged looks. ‘What does it mean?’

‘We’re not sure,’ Teardrop said.

Britha could tell he was lying. If he was a dryw then he could lie for what he thought was the best. She ignored him and turned to stare at Fachtna. He felt like her stare was burrowing into his head. Good , Britha thought. They obviously had their own dryw and knew to obey them or face serious consequences.

‘We think that Bress has found an aspect of the sleeping goddess, the Mother to us all, and he seeks to pervert or corrupt her somehow,’ Fachtna told her.

‘And he will do this by offering those he has taken as sacrifice?’ Britha asked.

Fachtna nodded. Teardrop was not looking happy.

‘Will you swear by blood that you are here to stop this?’ she asked.

Fachtna did not answer. Instead he produced his finely wrought, silver-bladed dirk and drew a line in red across his palm with the blade.

‘Wait,’ Teardrop said, but he knew it was pointless.

Britha took her iron-bladed knife.

‘Use mine,’ Fachtna said. But it was too late. She had made a ragged gash in her hand. The leather tube that lay on top of Fachtna’s pile of armour seemed to move and make sounds as she did this.

‘Look, don’t…’ Teardrop started but Fachtna and Britha clasped hands.

‘This oath will bind,’ Britha warned him.

‘By my blood, I bind myself. I, Fachtna ap Duin, swear that I am here to stop Bress from corrupting the Muileartach and to kill Bress and his servant.’

Britha felt a flutter in her stomach when he said he meant to kill Bress.

‘Then I will travel with you to get my people back,’ Britha said. In the back of her head she heard a voice asking when she would learn to leave the Otherworld well enough alone. Britha looked into Fachtna’s eyes looking for falseness. All she found was desire. She let go of his bloody hand and walked down towards the small dark waves of the Black River lapping on the pebbles.

‘What is it with you?’ Teardrop asked Fachtna.

‘I meant what I said. What they are doing is an abomination.’

‘I know you thought that was what you were doing, but you always have to try and impress, don’t you?’

‘I’m an impressive person,’ Fachtna said, smiling. Teardrop felt like slapping him for never taking anything seriously.

‘In this world, yes…’

‘And in the Ubh Blaosc ,’ Fachtna said more quietly. Teardrop sighed. He hated having to deal with prickly warrior pride.

‘I’m not doubting your prowess, but she cannot do the things we do.’

‘She has the blood of the Muileartach and the blood of the Red Chalice. That is powerful blood magic and with your help she should be able to harness it. She will keep up.’

Britha was walking back towards them again. Teardrop did not like the look on her face. She was staring at him again. ‘Besides, she’s too much woman for you,’ he said quietly.

Fachtna grinned. ‘Such a creature would be a like a dragon. They may exist, but nobody’s ever seen one.’

‘I am beginning to understand why Uathach beat you so often.’

‘She wanted me.’

‘There was something else from my dream,’ Britha said. Fachtna noticed that as she came to a rest by the fire, she pushed her foot under the haft of her spear. ‘I saw them push a seed, like the crystals that grow in the caves, into the heads of my people. These things just seemed to sink through their skin.’ Britha waited for either of them to speak. They just watched her. Teardrop could see what was coming. ‘It looked like what I saw under the skin of your head when I bashed you.’

‘It is similar magics. From the Otherworld,’ Teardrop said.

Britha could not decide if she wanted to believe him or not.

‘It’s a fungus that they grow in his head,’ Fachtna said. Teardrop looked furious. Britha had to stifle a smile. If one of her warriors had given away a secret like that to a stranger she would have cursed them until their manhood dropped off. Not that she ever allowed the warriors to learn her secrets. She could tell that Teardrop would be having words with Fachtna in private.

‘A fungus inside the head. That makes no sense,’ she told them. ‘What would this seed do?’

‘Enslave them,’ Fachtna said.

‘No, Ettin makes them drink from a cup of demon’s blood for that,’ Britha told him.

‘It’s to hear their mindsong,’ Teardrop said quietly.

Britha turned to stare at him. ‘When they are afraid, when they are suffering, when they die in torment,’ she said. Teardrop looked at her across the fire. She could see new respect in his eyes. She did not care, though she was beginning to think that she wanted his magics. Either learned or taken, they would make her tribe stronger, if she ever found them.

‘Now you know my secrets, will you tell us one of your own?’ Teardrop asked.

‘Unlikely, but you may ask,’ Britha told him.

‘You have the blood of the Muileartach in you. How?’

Fachtna turned to look at her expectantly.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Britha said. ‘The gods are cold and cruel and do not mean us well. My people forsook them when my farthest ancestors were young.’

‘Have you drunk blood?’

‘No,’ she said uneasily. She remembered the fevered dream as she lay dying on the beach. The pool in Cliodna’s cave. Teardrop was staring at her. It was the truth-finding look; she had used it herself before. He knew.

‘Eaten flesh of the Otherworld?’

‘No!’

‘Some kind of fluid must have been exchanged,’ Fachtna said with a leer.

He was too confident of his own abilities to think that Britha would attack him. The punch was a solid blow that spread his nose across his face and squirted blood over his mouth and down his chin. The blow had been quick and delivered with a surprising amount of force. Fachtna staggered back, and Britha turned and stalked off, pulling her hood up and wrapping her robe tighter around herself.