Edith Pattou - Fire Arrow

"By the by," the sorcerer continued, his tone suddenly confiding. "There is a boy in the village of Mira, a fishing enthusiast like myself, with unusual fingernails... thumbs to be precise. You catch my meaning, I hope." Brie stared at Sago. "His name is Thom. He lives with his mother, near the sea. You will find him, or the Traveler will." He rummaged in his amhantar. "Ah ... and this is for you." He held out his hand, then opened it with a mysterious smile, like a conjurer. In his palm lay the moon shell. "Remember what I told you about moon shells?" he asked, eyes twinkling.

Though she was still uneasy, Brie managed a smile and, nodding, replied, "That you can never have too many." She reached out and took the shell. She put it in a pocket of her tunic. "Thank you, Sago."

"Now," said the sorcerer, "I think I will have a spot of sleep. And you shall see; tomorrow this old sorcerer may still have a few fireworks up his raveled sleeve." He stood, gave Brie a wink, and then disappeared into the darkness.

***

Brie lay down, sure that she would not sleep. But she came awake with a start, the taste of stale cyffroi in her mouth. Dawn was almost an hour away, she guessed. She stood, stretching, and sniffed the air. An odd, thick-fingered fog had come up, shrouding their camp, but she could see figures moving about, preparing for the day ahead.

Collun had brewed a pan of chicory, saying if it was all the same to her he'd rather have it than cyffroi on this particular morning. As they sat together, sharing the chicory, Brie was reminded of another early morning, off the Isle of Thule. In preparation for meeting the Firewurme, Collun had layered himself with padding from head to toe to protect against the corrosive slime that came off the creature's body. He had looked lumpy and faintly absurd, but the padding had saved his life.

Collun was different now: older, leaner, and taller. And the sword lying across his knees, that was new for him. He was peering down, at some indecipherable hatch marks on the flat of the blade. Then he glanced up at her and smiled, and Brie's heart did a quick flutter kick. Nerves, she thought, blushing slightly. She stood.

"Shall we to battle?" Her voice was over loud.

"After you," Collun said politely. He also rose and somehow they managed to bump into each other.

"Sorry," they both mumbled, stepping apart.

"Brie," Collun began.

She turned to him, nervous.

"Well, uh, good luck," he said, giving her an awkward pat on the back.

"And you," she replied stiffly, her heart still making that odd flipping movement. She turned away abruptly and adjusted her bow.

TWENTY

The Battle

Brie swung herself onto Ciaran's back. Collun and Fiain came up beside them, and silently they entered the forest, Fara padding alongside. The fog had thickened and it eddied up around Ciaran's chest, making her skittish. The Dungalan army, with its ragtag blend of foot soldiers and those who were mounted, fell in behind them.

"I wonder if your Sea Dyak sorcerer has woven this mist for us," said Collun.

"The only weaving Sago is interested in is that little fishing net of his," Brie replied. And indeed she had seen him not long ago perched on his fat pony. The alarming calmness had gone and he was back to his old self, working on the ragged net and singing of oranges and gooseberries. She was glad, at least, to see that he had stayed at the rear of the army. Brie noticed that Monodnock had attached himself to Sago, most certainly because of his position at the back.

The company made its way through the woods in the predawn darkness. Brie marveled at how quietly this mass of people, horses, and dogs was able to move through the trees.

When they reached the forest's edge, Brie signaled to the archers to come up along her right side and spread out. Brie could just make out the beginning of the gabha encampment, a cluster of crudely built wooden huts, thatched with straw, scattered among the sedges and shrubs of the fields stretching to the east of Sedd Wydyr. With a satisfied nod, Brie again signaled, this time to the archers who bore the special arrows.

The incendiary arrows flew high, their arcs wavering slightly because of the wad of oil-soaked hemp lodged next to the arrowhead. Some plunged into the ground, igniting the dry grass and scrub; some plummeted down onto the thatched roofs of the gabha huts; one or two even found a sleeping goat-man. Plumes of smoke rose, mingling with the fog, and bursts of fire flared throughout the camp. The goat-horses began a frenzied braying, and there were guttural shouts from gabha throats.

Brie signaled to a man from the village Cerriw, and the melodic, high-pitched notes of a Dungalan war horn sounded.

She and Collun exchanged glances, then Brie laid her hand on Ciaran's neck. They broke forward, the two Ellyl horses neck to neck. Brie could hear the muffled thunder of hooves behind her.

Ciaran was a nose ahead of Fiain as they burst into the gabha camp, trampling flame and sparks under their hooves. A scattering of goat-men came running with snatched-up weapons.

At Brie's unspoken command, Ciaran halted and, digging her knees into the Ellyl horse's back, Brie shot off several arrows in quick succession. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Collun meet the charge of a large goat-man swinging a thick club. And Fara was a whirling mass of claws and teeth and fur.

Brie rained arrows on any goat-man who staggered out of the smoke. Ill-organized and dazed, the creatures were easy targets. Backed up by the Dungalan archers, Brie struck again, and then again. Sweat trickled into her eyes, and her arm began to ache. From beside her, around her, and over her head, arrows flew. Any goat-men that the archers missed were met by Dungalan soldiers with swords and spears.

Bodies lay thick on the ground. Then Brie heard the strident note of another horn; it made a sound different than the Dungalan horn—a raw, jarring series of notes. Ahead of her, a stone's throw away, she saw what looked like two large white corkscrews, spiraling up, splitting the smoke. It was the gabha leader, Cernu. The gabha horn sounded again, and the goat-men fell back, answering the call of their leader.

Dismounting, Brie found Collun in the fog and smoke. He, too, had dismounted. The Ellyl horses were, on their own, doing considerable damage with hooves and teeth to the gabha they met. Collun's sword blade was bloody and he looked pale, but he managed a grin of sorts when he caught sight of Brie. Brie felt something rub against her legs and looked down to see Fara, whose white coat bore streaks of blood.

Before Brie and Collun could exchange a word, the goat-men surged forward. Cernu had organized his forces and they were attacking. Brie and Collun advanced to meet them. The Dungalan horn sounded again, and from then on Brie was surrounded by the feral, snarling faces of goat-men. Her ears rang with a fearful noise—swords clanging, screams of the injured and dying, and the braying of the gabha. She swung her small sword, her mind gone somewhere else. She killed, over and over again, but it did not seem real.

There were only a handful of moments that pierced through the numbness, an occasional vivid glimpse of something familiar and startling, such as Collun's pale set jaw as he wielded the sword he had found in the passage grave; Aelwyn the wyll, small and fierce, her colorful layers of clothing swirling as she laid about her with a shining sharp knife, jewels sparkling in its handle; Silien, the Ellyl prince, nimble and deft, his silver eyes gleaming and the blue-tinged sword he held in his hand flashing; Maire, her face shining with fierce courage, fighting alongside her brother. Brie caught sight of the confused, tremulous look on the boy Dil's face when he felled his first goat-man with an arrow. And Brie saw flames reflected on Jacan's sword and on the swinging blade of a goat-man's ax as the fisherman thrust his blade into the creature's side. She had a moment of horrified disbelief as she saw the Ardaran fisherman Henle fall, his chest slit open by a gabha spear.