Edith Pattou: Fire Arrow

"I know the lad," said a fisherman from Mira in wonderment, "and a fine young fisherman he's already showing himself to be. Father's that proud of him. Wait until he hears of this..."

Because many of the Dungalans were uneasy near the moth-infested white beach, not to mention the looming, empty fortress of Sedd Wydyr, Lom suggested they move camp to their old site on the other side of the forest.

And so they finished their burying and burning and wearily traveled back through the trees, glad to see the last of Sedd Wydyr and its bloodstained battlefield.

The newly arrived Dungalan army had brought with them fresh provisions, and that night Hanna oversaw the cooking of an impressive feast. There was also a new supply of good Dungalan mead, and as the evening wore on the somber mood of the Dungalans began to lighten.

They were just finishing a delicious medlar comfit when a Dungalan who had ridden with the original army rose to his feet, his cup of mead upraised. Brie couldn't remember his name, but she knew he was a fisherman from the small town of Clibden with a boat he called Bream. The flames from the cooking fires lit his face and he called out, loud, "To Bren-huan!" And there came a great yelling and clapping.

Brie blushed. For a mortified moment she was afraid they were going to ask for a speech, but then Hanna stood and added her own toast to that of the fisherman from Clibden. She compared Brie's bravery to that of Queen Fionna and said that when Brie had led them to battle she had looked like a Dungalan war goddess, her braids flying behind her like bolts of golden lightning. When Hanna finished, there were more cheers and cups being refilled. After that came many rounds of toasts to all the many acts of bravery and comradeship during battle. Monodnock tipsily even offered a toast to himself, taking credit for dispatching Sago on his miraculous errand. It was late by the time the assembled companions began drifting off to their bedrolls.

Brie, Hanna, and Silien remained sitting by their campfire, Collun lying an arm's length from them. He was still unconscious, though Hanna said the wound to the side of his head looked better. But she could not say more.

"The truth, Hanna," said Brie, her face intent. "Is Collun going to recover?"

"I wish I had an answer, Biri. But even if his body heals, head wounds are difficult. It may be that his wits will be affected."

Brie's stomach tightened.

"He may be as a child, Biri," Hanna said gently.

Like a kesil, Brie thought, thinking of the handful of wandering wild forest men in Eirren. She stared at Collun's bandaged head. "Can we do nothing? Silien?"

The Ellyl shook his head. "The healing waters of Tir a Ceol cannot help hurts of the mind. I am sorry."

"Biri," Hanna said, her voice brisk, "your hand needs more of that mallow salve." Brie looked down at her blistered, oozing palm, the one that had wielded the fire arrow. The strip of cloth with which Collun had bound her hand had come loose.

Hanna had Collun's wallet of herbs and, with Brie's help, soon had made a small amount of the salve, which she applied to Brie's hand. The salve stung and soothed at the same time. But Brie noticed that Hanna's eyelids were drooping and that Silien had already dozed off.

"Get some sleep, Hanna," Brie said. "I'll watch Collun."

"Only if you promise to wake me in a few hours," Hanna murmured.

Brie brewed a pan of cyffroi, then reached for her bow with its broken string. She restrung it with a string she had borrowed from one of the Dungalan archers. Her quiver was empty except for the fire arrow; when her hand was better she would make new arrows. Idly, she took out the fire arrow. It hummed lightly against her unburnt hand. Then she looked at the story band at the very bottom of the shaft.

Brie caught her breath. The story band slowly unraveled itself, revealing the story of the Dungalan battle against the gabha. Hypnotized, Brie watched the events unfold in moving, vivid pictures. When she came to the part where Sago was run through by the gabha general's horns, tears welled in her eyes. And when Collun fell, his head crushed, the tears spilled over, wetting her cheeks. Then came the grave digging, the smoke from the pyres and the uneasy waiting by Collun's unconscious body.

"Where is Balor?" Brie whispered through her tears, clutching the arrow.

The white stone beach flashed in front of Brie's eyes, luminous in the moonlight, pulsing faintly.

TWENTY-TWO

The Fire Arrow

Brie abruptly stood, then realized she could not see. Stuffing the arrow in her quiver and feeling for her bow, Brie called out softly, "Fara?"

She felt the furry body of the faol brush against her legs. "Guide me, Fara. I cannot see. I wish to find Ciaran, to watch Collun. And then I need to go to the stone beach."

Fara began to move forward and Brie kept near the faol by resting her hand on the animal's back. Fara had long since rid herself of the bandage on her neck and Brie could feel the puckered edges of the faol's wound.

"Brie?" It was Aelwyn's voice.

Brie stopped short, turning her face toward the voice.

"I could not sleep. How is Collun?"

"The same," Brie answered, keeping her voice casual. "Aelwyn, would you do me a favor and sit with him? I, uh, need to look for mallow, in the forest. It's for burn salve..." She trailed off weakly, hoping Aelwyn would not ask questions.

"Yes, of course. But..." There was curiosity in the wvll's voice.

"It should not take long. Thank you." Brie walked forward, her hand still on Fara's back, trying to move with the assurance of one who can see. "To the beach, Fara," Brie whispered.

Brie felt the branches of the trees around her as they entered the forest, but Fara guided her surely, and she did not stumble or fall.

She could tell the moment they emerged from the forest: the moonlight brightening the dimness of her sight, the air on her face, and the strong smell of the sea. They moved quickly across the battlefield, and as they were making their way through the ruins near the shore, Brie's sight began to return. By the time they stepped onto the white stone beach her vision had returned to normal. She could clearly see the moths that swarmed up with each step. There were more than she remembered, and she had to keep waving her hand in front of her face to keep them from lining her lips and closing her nostrils. Fara playfully swatted at a few, but because there were so many she soon tired of the game.

Suddenly unsure, Brie gazed around, still waving away the moths. The moon was so bright that except for the dun color of the sky it might have been day. Brie saw no sign of Balor.

She moved closer to the water and the number of moths began to diminish. Restlessly her eyes scanned the bluff, the glittering fortress, the battlefield, and then the beach and across the sea.

Squinting, she took several steps closer to the water, until it was lapping the tips of her boots. There was a long jagged line of darkness resting on the horizon, a deeper dark than the murky night sky, and Brie stared at it until her eyes hurt. The darkness stretched left and right almost as far as she could see. At first she was puzzled; then vague, uneasy fears began stirring in her.

She stood very still, her body rigid. Fara had seen the darkness, too, and let out a low sound. Together they watched as the darkness grew larger and moved closer.

Boats. Hundreds and hundreds of boats. The swollen moon shone on them as brightly as a sky full of torches. Brie could make out the arching long necks of the prows of long boats with bloodred sails billowing above. They looked like a fleet of winged sea serpents splitting the waves, bearing down on the coast of Dungal.

She had a sudden tingling sensation on the skin of her neck and arms. Someone was nearby. Almost involuntarily Brie looked up, and there, standing at the tip of the bluff above, was Balor. He gazed straight out to sea, at the approaching boats, and he wore golden armor, burnished, dazzling in the full moon. His head was covered by a resplendent war helmet with the guise of a bird of prey rising in radiant gold from his forehead. Because of the way he stood, Brie could see that across the torso of the golden mail was a black tunic. In the center of the tunic, woven of impossibly bright threads, was a goldenhawk.