Edith Pattou - Fire Arrow

After several days they came to the town of Cerriw, which Brie remembered as the home place of Aelwyn, the wyll. Aelwyn was at the center of the village, waiting for them. She told Brie that after safely delivering her friend's healthy baby boy, she had made her way, without incident, through the Blue Stacks, reaching home in time for the harvest festival, Cynheafu. The Dungalan army received a warm welcome in Aelwyn's village. Not only were they supplied with fresh provisions, but also a cohort of recruits, twenty strong, including Aelwyn herself.

Brie thanked the wyll, who replied with a shrug, "A favor for a favor." Brie noticed Aelwyn's eyes stray to Collun as he helped a villager load provisions into his saddlebags, and the corners of the wyll's mouth went up, cadike.

Its ranks having swelled to more than a hundred, the army rode north.

When Collun was at the back of the group with Sago and Hanna (and frequently, Brie noticed, Aelwyn as well), Brie usually found herself riding with Maire, the tall girl with the stubborn chin. She was almost the same age as Brie and idolized her, which embarrassed Brie. Maire had snuck off to join the army to get away from an over strict father, who believed a girl's place was in the home. "He thinks we are good for nothing more than cooking and cleaning and minding children," Maire said, outraged. "I have long begged him to give me a chance on the fishing boat, but he has always refused. Each time I saw you go out on Jacan's boat, I envied you so," the girl confided.

Brie told Maire that her own father had been the opposite, demanding as much from her, or more, as from the boy he wished he had had.

Maire was silent, compassion in her eyes. "Then," she said with a sudden smile, "let us be to each other what our fathers were not. When we return to Ardara I will loan you all my cooking pots."

"Thank you just the same," Brie laughed, "but, if Jacan is willing, you shall have my place on the Storm Petrel."

"Agreed!" Maire replied with enthusiasm.

Brie looked up at the night sky, instinctively seeking the Bootes, seven stars making up a wheel of light. The farther north they went, the clearer and brighter was the wheel. They had left Ardara half a moon cycle ago and were camped by the Burren—a pair of graceful stone bridges beneath which the Tyfed River ran.

Hanna estimated they were a day and a half from Sedd Wydyr, so Brie formed a scouting party, resolving to lead it herself. Hanna and Collun would go with her, as well as Maire and her brother, Clun. Aelwyn, too, had volunteered, with a sideways glance at Collun. Lom would be in charge of the army, and Brie told him that if her party did not return in three days to move ahead without them.

As Brie stared up at the stars, Collun came to sit beside her. He offered a small skin bag. Brie took it and drank; the liquid lit the back of her throat and she began to cough. Collun patted her on the back.

"Sorry. I guess I should have warned you."

"What is it?" Brie sputtered.

"Aelwyn calls it neno. They make it in her village. Have another sip; it grows on you."

Brie tried another, and this time the drink was smoother, though still fiery going down her throat.

"Brie, may I ask you something?"

"Of course."

Collun took the skin bag and swallowed some neno. He cleared his throat. "Do you journey to face the man Balor so that you may complete your revenge?"

Brie was silent. She gazed down at her hands. The silence grew long.

"Brie," Collun commanded.

She looked up at him, meeting his gaze directly. "No."

Collun searched her face

"In the bog..." She halted a moment, then went on. "Well, after the bog I realized it was gone—the hatred—all of it had drained away, like pus from a wound, as if the bog itself swallowed it."

"Then why?" Collun asked simply.

"Why do I journey with the Dungalan army? I have told myself it is^ because Eirren is in as much danger from Balor as Dungal. But it is not enough. Perhaps it is the arrow that has ensorcelled me or whatever you call it..." She smiled. "Or because of my great-grandmother ... It was she who gave my mother the arrow to give to me. Perhaps I am doing Seila's will. I only know it is something I must do."

At dawn, before the scouting party was to depart, Brie went to find Sago. He was sitting peacefully by the river's edge. She was pleased to see a faint color in the sorcerer's cheeks. When he had first ridden up on his fat pony, he had looked more of death than of life, like a horse that had been ridden too long by too harsh a master.

Sago had made a rough fishing pole out of a length of rope attached to a stick. He had caught nothing with his makeshift pole, but there was peace in his face. And, for once, he did not burst into rhyme when Brie sat beside him.

"Look what I found today," he said, setting down his pole. Out of his amhantar he pulled a buckleberry nut, which gleamed a warm brown in his palm. Then he held out his other hand, and nestled in that palm was the moon shell.

"Not so very different after all," he said, tracing the whorls on the surface of each with his finger.

"No," Brie agreed.

"I have missed much," Sago spoke pensively, "being so much of the sea. Now I see why Yldir chose to live out his life in the bog. Oh, yes, I am enjoying this." He gestured at the trees, the river, the grass.

"I am glad, Sago," Brie responded, then added, "I take a scouting party north, but will return soon."

"And then it is off to battle-o, with a hey ho and a nonny nonny no!" He gave her a wink, then picked up his fishing stick and expertly cast the line.

Brie smiled and left him by the river.

The scouting party departed soon after and traveled through the day, moving stealthily and keeping watch for any sign of gabha patrols. They stopped late at night for rest and food, though they did not light a campfire. The others slept, but Brie was restless.

She had been avoiding the fire arrow for the past several days. She did not know if it was her imagination, but lately when she touched the arrow, the fire in her veins raged stronger and her eyesight blurred. And the effects seemed to linger longer. It made her feel more than ever as if the arrow was taking hold of her.

But tonight the urge to hold it was strong. She picked up her quiver and moved away from the campsite. The surface of the arrow was warm, hot even, the heat pulsing against her skin and traveling up her arm. She shut her eyelids against the heat.

Goat-men, a hundred of them, maybe more, marching through the mountains: the Mountains of Marwol, between Scath and Dungal. And just beyond the mountain pass they approached was the descent into Dungal, the sea glittering beyond. On the edge of the white shoreline lay a lovely sparkling jewel of a fortress. Sedd Wydyr. The crystal castle. Just beyond the bluff on which the fortress stood stretched the line of rocks that looked like a sea serpent.

To the north and the east of the castle was arrayed an army of goat-men, perhaps three times the size of the reinforcements marching toward them.

The pictures faded and Brie slumped against a tree, resting her flaming cheek against the rough bark.

So much for scouting parties, Brie thought dully, the fire still thrumming along her veins. She tried opening her eyes, but as had happened before, her vision was blurred. Breathing deeply, she blindly guided the now-cool fire arrow back into her quiver.

Balor has laid his plans nicely, Brie thought: sending sumog and the dry wind to break the back of the Dungalans' livelihood; then a murderous assault on the royal dun to remove the country's leaders; and finally a large army of killers to overrun the country. What kind of fight would there be left in the people of Dungal after a harsh winter and a summer of starvation and fear, especially with no ruler to rally them? Balor's army would sweep through Dungal like a deadly plague, picking off villages one by one.