Edith Pattou - Fire Arrow

More than you thin\, Breo-Saight, came the Ellyl horse's response. And try washing your face. It's a mess, Ciaran added, looking sideways at Brie.

"Well, pardon me, but you're not exactly spotless yourself," Brie retorted.

Ciaran flicked her tail and went off in search of some brisgein.

Brie crouched down to soak her burnt hand in the cool water. Vaguely she was aware of someone—a fisherman, she thought, because of the indigo jersey and the braided criosanna he wore at his waist—coming to the stream near her. He limped and wore a large handkerchief bandage over half his face; Brie wondered if he had had his battle wound looked at. The sun was setting.

Suddenly the fisherman lunged at her. With a splash, she went sprawling facedown into the water. Before she could react, the man had grabbed the fire arrow out of her quiver. He let out a shriek of pain as the arrow burned his hand, but he was running, desperate, hobbling off on his crippled leg.

With an astonished sense of déjà vu, Brie scrambled up out of the water and took off after Bricriu. He was heading toward the bluff on which Sedd Wydyr stood. Despite her own fatigue, she had begun to gain on him and was sure she would catch him. But then she saw a small door in the side of the bluff, a thick wooden door striped with iron, no doubt with a lock or an iron bar on the inside. Panic rose in her. She did not think she would be able to reach him before he got to the door.

Then a gray blur swept past her. It was Collun astride the horse Fiain.

In moments Collun caught the man. He swung off Fiain, and in an instant his sword was at Bricriu's throat.

"Release the arrow," Collun said. Even from a distance Brie could hear the cold fury in his voice. Bricriu froze.

Her breath coming in gasps, Brie ran up. Neither Collun nor Bricriu moved as she reached them.

"There is very little that keeps me from running this sword through your evil neck, Bricriu," Brie heard Collun say. He pressed the tip of his sword deeper into Bricriu's throat.

The trembling man dropped the arrow onto the ground. Brie darted forward and picked it up. The arrow buzzed against her fingers. But Collun did not lower his sword.

Bricriu sank to his knees, his hollow eyes wild with fear. Then she saw his glance fall on Collun's sword.

"I know your sword, Wurme-killer." The words had come from Bricriu. With a shock Brie realized it was the first time she had heard him talk since being entertained by him in his dun, long ago; his voice was grotesque, a wheezing whisper, sounding as if someone on a previous occasion had run a sword through his voice box.

"My sword?" said Collun, distracted.

"It is fitting that you carry it," Bricriu croaked. Collun looked blank, and Bricriu's wrecked face shifted into a travesty of a smile. "Surely you know? It is Cuillean's, your father's sword. He has no need of it now. In Scath."

Collun went pale.

"Queen Medb gave him his choice of swords."

Collun took a step back, letting his sword drop from Bricriu's throat. In an instant Bricriu made a dash for the door in the bluff, with a frenzied scuttling movement like a wounded crab. Collun did not move, his eyes fixed on the sword. Brie thought to give chase, but Bricriu was already at the door, then through. She could hear the clang as an iron bolt dropped into place.

Brie went to Collun. He could not take his eyes off the blade in his hand.

"Did you know of this? My father and Medb?" Collun asked in a low voice.

Brie nodded reluctantly. "Balor told me."

"Why did you not tell me?"

"I..." Brie trailed off as no words came. Collun gazed at her a moment, then his eyes went back to the sword he held.

"Brie." Collun's voice was almost a whisper. "I could have killed Bricriu."

"I know."

"I looked into his eyes and the memory of all that he did to Nessa, the way he tortured her, starved her, it filled me, until..."

"I know," Brie said again. "But you did not kill him."

There was another silence between them. Then Collun's jaw relaxed a little. "Brie," he said, "the next time I start to lecture about revenge and arrows doubling back, promise you will stop me?"

"I promise." Brie smiled at him.

"Let me see your hand," Collun said. And carefully he applied mallow salve and bound her burnt hand with a length of muslin from his leather wallet.

***

The Dungalans had lost many. Of those who remained, fully two-thirds were injured, some grievously. And all were exhausted. Brie had assembled Lom, Hanna, Collun, Silien, Aelwyn, and Jacan by the remains of what looked to have been an ancient Sea Dyak sorcerer's mote.

Lom reported that roughly two hundred goat-men, perhaps more, remained. Hanna grimly detailed the state of the Dungalans, the extent of their injuries, how many lay near death and how many were already gone. And Silien, gray-faced with exhaustion, told them his draiocht was still unusable. As the others, bleak but dogged, began to discuss what Cernu's strategy might be, Brie's throat tightened with despair. She had led these people to their deaths, she thought, and suddenly she felt Balor again, inside her mind.

This time, of course, he knew where she was and he was laughing at her.

Anger flared in Brie, and she raised her eyes to the glittering fortress by the sea. Why did he not show himself?

Then, stifling her anger, Brie concentrated on the laughter. There was no trace of cowardice in it, or even a desire to remain unsoiled by the violence below. Indeed, what she sensed from Balor was more a feeling of irrelevance, as if all the mud and sweat and smoke and fear down there on the battlefield had little or nothing to do with him and his plans. It puzzled her. The laughter grew louder, flooding her head. Brie groaned and pressed her fists against her ears.

"Brie?" Collun said, worried. The others were watching her.

"I'm sorry," she replied. "It's nothing." Then, ignoring the ringing in her ears, she said, "Lom, if what you say is true, then the odds are, uh, not exactly even."

"No, they are not," he agreed.

"What say you?" Brie asked those gathered. "Shall we retreat? Or..." She paused.

"Or do we give our lives to put a mighty hole in the villain Balor's invasion?" Hanna said for her, matter-of-factly.

"Flight would sit ill with most in this company," suggested Lom.

"What of Sago?" asked Hanna. "Is he the same?"

Brie nodded grimly. While the Dungalans had been spilling their blood on the battlefield, the Sea Dyak sorcerer had stayed at the edge of the forest, astride his fat pony, weaving that pathetic little fishing net of his. Not surprisingly Monodnock had chosen to stay with the sorcerer.

And before calling this council Brie had sought out Sago. She had found him sitting cross-legged by a heap of rocks. The sorcerer had been unreachable, eyes glazed, nonsense words tumbling out of his mouth; he was lost in madness. As she stared down at him, Brie could not even picture the amazing sorcerer of light who had destroyed the sumog back in Ardara.

"Well, do not forget there is one among us who bears a fire arrow," Lom said, breaking into Brie's thoughts with a tired grin.

"The gabha will find it difficult to forget that," agreed Hanna.

Brie tried to smile, but there was still a buzzing in her ears where Balor's laughter had been, and that puzzle of his indifference.

There was a sudden commotion down near the white stone beach, a shriek that sounded like Monodnock, followed by an eruption of laughter, then a murmuring of voices. Jacan soon appeared, supporting a half-fainting Monodnock. The orange-haired Ellyl had a dusting of some odd white powder on his cheeks. He sneezed loudly.

"I was only seeking to bathe in the sea," Monodnock whined, "when I was suddenly attacked by them."