Edith Pattou - Fire Arrow

"Have you always had weather magic?"

"Yes. Thought it was quite a splendid thing when I was young. But I quickly found out it was not without its price." She gestured at her head, her face still pale. "Interesting thing is, each kind of weather I make or unmake has its own distinctive aftereffect, none of them pleasant. Lightning causes headache. Bringing on rain gives me a bad cold. Making a day warm and sunny invariably brings on fever. At any rate, I don't use it much, the weather making and unmaking. Only in emergencies. Most of the time the weather does a fine job all on its own."

"Don't you get people coming to you, asking for rain for their crops and such?"

"Not many know, these days. I prefer it that way."

Brie spooned stew into their bowls. "Hanna," she began, "the pictures on the fire arrow, you called them story bands?"

Hanna nodded. "Each one, unraveled, tells a story of Dungal's past. Only a wyll, or a sorcerer, can unravel the bands."

"In the mountains, during the storm, I saw one unravel."

Hanna raised her eyebrows.

"I was ill, half-dead, probably hallucinating. It does not mean that I have draoicht," said Brie defensively. "At any rate, what I saw was a girl with fair hair on top of a seawall and the water rising."

"That would be Fionna. There are many tales of Fionna. She was queen not so very long ago, perhaps fifty years. One of our greatest queens, in truth." Hanna paused, looking thoughtful. "The story band must have been about the great flood."

"Do you know the story?"

Hanna gave a look of disdain. "Every Dungalan knows that story."

"Will you tell it to me?" Brie asked humbly.

Hanna slowly lit her pipe. "Fionna was the middle of three sisters; their mother was Queen Ilior. Dungal is traditionally ruled by a queen, though if there is none alive, as now, then a prince may rule. Golden-haired and beautiful, Fionna was the most headstrong of the three sisters. After her elder sister, she was next in line to be queen, but she was little interested in her royal heritage. As a child she was a wild one, always off somewhere getting into mischief. She had a particular fascination with the sea, loved to mess about in boats and was always pestering the fishermen. As is true of most with royal blood, she had draoicht."

"She was a wyll?"

"Not exactly. The royal draoicht is more like that of a Sea Dyak sorcerer."

"All these different kinds of magic; I don't know how you keep track of them all," Brie said with a smile.

Hanna ignored her, intent on her tale. "Fionna was just six years old when the bad rains came. It was during the dark months, and it seemed that it would never stop raining.

"Now, the royal seat, or Sedd, as we call it, lies on the coast. Sedd Brennhin. That part of Dungal, in the center of the country, consists mainly of low-lying flatlands, rich farmland. There is a network of dykes and sluice gates that protect Sedd Brennhin and the nearby town of Mira from high water.

"Fionna loved rain and storms, as she loved all manner of wild things, and no matter the weather she would roam the land and seaside by herself. That was why she was out that day when most were snugged up warm in their houses. The watchman who was supposed to patrol the dyke was asleep in his armchair, his feet soaking in a bucket of warm water, for he had a bad chest cold.

"All around the town of Mira and the royal Sedd the creeks were swollen, and the River Caldew had risen beyond the top of its banks.

"Fionna saw the first crack in the dyke. She watched in fear as the thin web of lines grew thicker and longer. She knew at once there was not time to run for help, and she was frightened. But Fionna remembered a time she had made the earth open up when she wanted to see where a busy mole had gotten to. She wondered if perhaps she could close the crack in the dyke the same way.

"She concentrated very hard and quite soon the crack closed. Her head ached, but she felt very pleased with herself. Then she noticed another crack snaking along the wall farther up. She concentrated again and it worked again, but cracks kept appearing, faster than she could close them. By then her head was pounding until she thought it would burst, like the dam, but she kept all her energies focused on the cracks.

"Water had begun spouting. Fionna felt panic rise in her. She was too young, she should never have tried; she should have run for help. But it was too late. She began to picture the dam giving way and all the water she could feel pressing against it on the other side would pour through and the village of Mira would be overwhelmed and all its villagers drowned. And Sedd Brennhin, even that could well be washed away, with all her family: sisters, mother, and father...

"Fionna took a very deep breath and put all of herself, body and spirit, into holding, building, strengthening the dam. Light exploded in her head and she felt herself very near death, but she held on. And then the dam was whole and strong and unbroken. Fionna let out a small sigh and collapsed at the foot of the dam.

"They found her there after the storm, half-dead and half-witted. They took her to the local Sea Dyak sorcerer. He brought all his healing power to bear. Worked over her for fourteen days and nights. But it still took her a full year to recover.

"All her hair fell out, they say. When it grew back it was pure white, the gold was gone. She stayed inside her room at Sedd Brennhin for one entire year. After that, she did not use draoicht. No one knew if it was because the effort of holding back the flood had drained it all out of her, or if she simply chose never to use it again."

Brie was silent. "What happened after? How did she become queen?"

They had finished their meal, and Hanna moved to the fire, removing a coal to light her pipe. She pressed the hot ember into the tobacco with a calloused thumb. A perfect smoke ring emerged from her mouth.

"Well, as I said before, Fionna was beautiful, too beautiful for anyone's good, even with her pure white hair. When she grew older it was the kind of beauty men make fools of themselves over, fighting each other and such nonsense. Fionna hated all that. Tried to hide her beauty, wore plain clothes, shawls half over her face, once she even cut her white hair close to the head like a man's. None of it did any good. Finally she got fed up and ran off. Disappeared for more than five years. No one knew where she went. Some guessed Eirren. Others thought she'd disguised herself and actually become a Traveler, roaming about Dungal.

"She never told anyone where she had been during those five years. When she returned she seemed to have settled down a bit. She was still beautiful, but she didn't have that same wild beauty. She took a Dungalan husband before too long. A fisherman. They had a son—a wild lad he turned out to be. No one could rein that one in."

"But when did she become queen?"

"Oh, that was later. Her mother ruled for many years, but then was taken by a fever that also took Fionna's older sister, so the crown fell to Fionna. She lived a long life and was said to have been more than one hundred years old when she died.

"When she got too old to rule, she handed the crown to her nephew Durwydd; her own son had long since disappeared, run away to sea and was presumed to be dead. She retired to a small fishing village up north."

Innumerable smoke circles were spinning among the rafters. Hanna watched them with an air of satisfaction.

"She was a great queen, revered by the people of Dungal. I'm afraid her nephew Durwydd takes after Fionna but little."

"How is that?"

"He's weak-minded, afraid to make decisions. This summer there've been problems with drought, and the fishing is poor. Prince Durwydd sits in Sedd Brennhin, wringing his hands and hoping the problems will go away." Frowning slightly, Hanna refilled her pipe. "Ah well, I suppose there, could be worse rulers. He is a good man at heart."