Fire Arrow

THREE

The White Stag

Feeling jumpy from the sleepless night, Brie descended to the kitchen for the morning meal. Rainne told her tersely that Masha had taken a turn for the worse in the early hours of the morning. The dun healer could not explain it. Brie went directly to Masha and spent the day at her bedside. The older woman's breathing was labored and her words incoherent. She spoke again those strange words, which sounded this time like "caroo tree ra eeth."

The words sounded, faintly familiar to Brie, and as she listened to them, repeated again and again, she suddenly thought they sounded Dungalan, like something Aelwyn would say. But that was absurd; she was beginning to see Dungal in everything.

When Brie heard the gong for dinner, she realized she had not eaten all day. She left Masha with the dun healer and went down to dinner.

"Uncle Amrys, have you a Dungalan dictionary by chance?" Brie said abruptly, as she helped herself to some minted red potatoes.

Surprised, he replied, "Why, yes, I do. It is very old and very valuable, one of the prizes of my collection, in fact. Traded for it with an old vendor from—"

"May I look at it sometime? Tomorrow, perhaps?" Brie interrupted.

"Well, I don't know ... I suppose so, but—"

"Thank you, Uncle Amrys."

After dinner Brie stopped by the kitchen for a fresh basin of hot water to take up to the sickroom and was surprised to see the dun healer there. "Who is with Masha?" she asked.

"The man Crin. I needed some herbs—"

Without knowing why, Brie was suddenly alarmed. She bolted out of the kitchen and up the stone stairs. The ragged man was just leaving Masha's room, his face hidden. He spotted Brie and scurried down the hall in the opposite direction.

"Stop!" Brie called. She swiftly caught up with him on the winding stairway and grabbed his arm. He kept his face averted, pulling away from her, but Brie held fast to the fabric of his sleeve. The man then deliberately turned his face toward Brie.

It was a ravaged face, ridged with scars and gaunt with suffering. Brie stared. She knew the face. Then the ragged man violently wrenched his arm from her. There was a tearing sound and he catapulted away, down the stairwell. Brie stood still, looking at the torn fabric in her hand. It was stained and dull with wear, threads unraveling, but once upon a time it had been velvet, from a lustrous scarlet cloak. And she knew whose cloak it was; it belonged to the traitor Bricriu, who had been responsible for the kidnapping and torturing of Nessa, Collun's sister.

Masha. Brie ran back to the sick woman's room. Masha was in her death throes, her back arched up off the pallet, her face distorted by pain.

"Masha, it's all right. I'm here," Brie murmured soothingly in Masha's ear.

The wild eyes turned toward her. "Breigit. From Aideen. Caroo tree ra eeth," she said one last time, then died, her body rigid and contorted. Brie took Masha in her arms and awkwardly tried to lay her down. She felt something wet. A brownish liquid had run out of Masha's ear onto Brie's hand. Brie raised it to her nose and sniffed. Bitter, like a root: mandrake perhaps. Bricriu had murdered Masha by pouring poison in her ear.

Brie recalled Collun telling her about mandrake, how in small doses over time it can take away a person's wits, and how a large dose is lethal, squeezing the heart until it stops beating.

Brie drew a blanket over the dead woman and then went downstairs to raise the alarm. A search for Crin was quickly mounted. Brie wanted to go with the search party, but her aunt reminded her of Masha and of the night-vigil. Aunt Rainne was a strong believer in the old traditions, so Brie sat with her aunt in Masha's darkened room, lit by a single beeswax candle. In contrast to the still body lying on the pallet and the quiet of the room, Brie's thoughts were like a stream rushing headlong, veering from the ruined figure of Bricriu to the prophecies of Aelwyn the wyll to Masha's strange final words.

Sometime before dawn, the two women left the room. They joined Uncle Amrys at the morning meal. He told them that the searchers had found no trace of the ragged man. Then Brie related to her aunt and uncle all she knew of the traitor Bricriu. They listened, horrified, to Brie's tale.

"No one knew what happened to Bricriu after his attempt to destroy us failed. But we thought perhaps he went to Medb. If so, she must have dealt with him harshly," Brie said, thinking of the once handsome nobleman's shattered face.

"But why here? Why Masha?" Aunt Rainne asked in confusion.

"I do not know," Brie replied. "Uncle Amrys," she said abruptly. "May I see that dictionary of Dungal?"

"Now?"

"Yes."

"You must be exhausted."

"Please."

"It is very delicate, one of a kind..."

"I will be careful."

Aunt Rainne was giving Amrys a direct look. He sighed. "Very well."

Uncle Amrys led Brie to his library. It was located halfway up one of the dun's highest turrets. Silently he lit several oil lamps.

The last time Brie had been in this room it had been her father's. Gone were the animal-skin rugs, hunting trophies, and sundry bows, arrows, swords. Instead, the floor was covered with woven rugs of muted colors and shelves crammed with books lined the walls.

Uncle Amrys found the Dungalan dictionary, took it off its shelf, and handed it to Brie with an expression of profound reluctance.

"I promise to treat it with the greatest of care," Brie said.

Looking only slightly reassured, and with several backward glances, Amrys left Brie alone with the fragile volume. It was bound in blue leather, and on the cover, embossed in gold, were the figures of a fish and a bird. Brie gingerly leafed through the brittle pages.

"Caroo tree ra eeth," she muttered under her breath. And laboriously she pieced the gibberish together. She had been right. The words were Dungalan. One by one she found them. Carew was "stag." Tri, "three." And rhaidd, "horn" or "antler." Stag, three, antler. Stag of three antlers.

Brie closed her eyes. Stag. Memory washed over her: a memory from many years ago—she and her father at the top of Dun Slieve, her father holding her up, looking down at the bonfires, the white stag lit by the flames. Abruptly Brie stood, leaving the book on her uncle's desk.

She ascended the winding stairs of the turret, taking them two at a time, and came up into the battlements. A steady rainfall hampered her vision, but peering through the castellations she could just make out the White Stag of Herge. And the stag had three horns.

She turned and descended to her uncle's study. Carefully she put the Dungalan dictionary back in its place and blew out the oil lamps.

***

Brie exited the dun, pulling her cloak over her head against the rain. She began climbing the slope of the hillside on which the stag lay.

The wind blew rain into her face and the grass was slippery. Finally she came to the top of the moor, where the stag's antlers crested. Not knowing why she was there or what she was looking for, Brie gazed down at the wet grass and white chalk-stone. Three antlers. Slowly she walked along the length of the first antler, then, rounding the top, walked back down to the head. She did the same with the second and third antlers. When she got to the tip of the third antler, Brie noticed a jagged gray rock sticking up out of the grass. She knelt beside it, then dug her fingers into the soggy earth around it. Despite the cool rain her skin felt hot, and there was a faint humming in her ears.

The piece of rock was firmly embedded in the ground, going down the length of a forearm. Brie kept digging. The rock finally came loose and she pulled it out. It was an ordinary bit of stone, though long and narrow. Brie put her hand into the hole and pressed her fingers further into the earth. Her fingertips hit something solid.

Using the rock as a shovel, Brie enlarged the hole and worked her way around the buried object until she could grasp it. It wouldn't budge. She dug and loosened soil for some time, rain saturating her cloak until water dripped through to her neck and trickled down her back. Finally, tugging hard, she pulled the object out of the ground.

It was a long thin packet, wrapped in some sort of waterproof material that reminded Brie of the material used by fishermen to line their curraghs, the small boats they went to sea in.

Her fingers shaking, Brie started to unwrap the packet.

Suddenly a hand reached out and grabbed it from her. Brie jumped up, but she slipped on the grass and fell awkwardly on her side. Rising, she took off after the hobbling figure of Bricriu as he scrambled up the hill. He was headed toward the nearby forest. Brie could see a horse tethered at the edge of the trees. She ran faster. Then her foot hit a mossy patch and she slipped again. Letting out an oath, she clumsily regained her footing. She was slathered with mud and grass but kept slogging toward Bricriu. He was just mounting his horse when Brie reached him.

Bricriu savagely whipped the gray horse. Brie thrust out a muddy hand and caught him by the leg and stirrup as the horse began to bolt. She was dragged several yards before the horse halted, unnerved by the extra weight. Bricriu again beat the horse's flank with a leather whip. This time the horse reared. But Brie held fast.

Bricriu let out a grunt, trying to pry Brie's hand loose while he continued to flail at both Brie and the horse with his whip.

Keeping her head low to avoid the lashes, Brie lunged up. She grabbed Bricriu by the neck and pulled him off the horse.

They landed hard in the muddy grass and for a moment neither moved, the wind knocked out of them. Then silently they began to struggle, face-to-face. Bricriu's ravaged face was distorted by a look of naked desperation; Brie almost felt pity for him. All of the man's strength was concentrated on getting free of Brie and he barely seemed to see her, though her face was inches from his own.

But because of Bricriu's ruined body, Brie was the stronger of the two, and inexorably she gained the advantage. She deftly pinned him facedown in the mud, his hands twisted behind his back. Then she quickly dislodged the packet from his grasp. Bricriu let out an animal-like howl. Brie rolled him over onto his back.

"Who sent you?" Brie asked. "Medb?"

Bricriu's body shuddered and a look of fear creased his face. He shook his head violently.

"Then who? And why?"

Bricriu's hollow eyes stared up at her.

Brie heard a noise from the dun and, distracted, slightly eased the pressure on Bricriu's arms. Swiftly he twisted away from her and leaped up. With a berserk speed that astonished Brie, Bricriu darted into the forest. She heard a shrill whistle and saw Bricriu's horse plunge after him through the trees. She could just make out Bricriu swinging himself onto the animal, then they vanished from sight.

Several of Amrys's men rode up. Two went in pursuit of Bricriu while the third bore a muddied, drained Brie back to the dun.

Aunt Rainne took one look at her and ordered hot water and clean towels sent to her room immediately.

Blissfully Brie lowered herself into the large tub of hot water. She sat there, eyes closed, savoring the sensation. When she opened her eyes she caught sight of the packet, still unopened, lying on the table where she'd placed it. Quickly she finished her bath.

After she had dried herself and dressed in clean clothing, Brie reached for the packet. It, too, was caked with mud and the oilskin material was several layers deep. She peeled off the layers until she came to a stiff leather case. It was tooled with a graceful spiral design and was fastened with a leather cord. With some difficulty she untied the cord and opened the case. Inside was a pristine white velvet cloth. Amazed at how well the waterproof material and leather case had protected the cloth, she washed the mud off her hands again; then, carefully, she unwound the cloth, marveling at its whiteness.

Inside several layers of the soft, rich material was an arrow. Brie stared at the slender, perfectly straight object. For a moment she was afraid to touch it. Then she wrapped her fingers around the shaft. A sudden strong heat pulsed against her hand, going halfway up her arm. She let out a small cry but did not drop the arrow. Slowly the heat faded to a gentle, barely perceptible warmth.

Gingerly Brie held the arrow up into the faint light coming in the window. The shaft was ringed by dozens of colorful bands. She peered more closely. It seemed to her that if her eyes could see differently, if they were somehow stronger, she would be able to see tiny pictures on those bands, pictures that told a story. As it was, the designs were too small, just a blur of color and line. The arrow was fletched with deep golden feathers.

It was an extraordinary arrow and Brie suddenly felt a keen desire to notch it to her own bowstring and let fly. But she wrapped the arrow back up in the white cloth, discarding the tarred oilskin fabric. She pulled the blue box to her and placed the arrow inside. A perfect fit.

Then she took the arrow back out of the box and unwrapped it. She stood, flinching slightly at the stiffness in her legs, crossed the room, and slid the arrow into her quiver. For some reason it looked right, as though it belonged there. Brie suddenly recalled Aelwyn's words: "An arrowhead pointed at your own heart..."

There was a knock on Brie's door. One of the serving women entered, saying that Aunt Rainne would like to see Brie as soon as it was convenient.

"The burial will be at midday today," said Rainne in her practical dry voice. Brie nodded. "The man Crin ... that is, Bricriu, has disappeared without a trace."

"I believe I know what he was after, perhaps even why he killed Masha." Brie held up the bundle of white linen cloth.

"What...?"

"Masha told me where to find it before she died. It is an arrow," she said unnecessarily as the cloth fell away.

Uncle Amrys took a step closer. "May I?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Brie handed him the arrow, watching to see if he felt the same heat that she had when she had first held it. But his expression did not change as he took the arrow.

"I believe my great-grandmother Seila gave this to Mother on her wedding day," Brie said.

"The blue box!" exclaimed Rainne. "An arrow; now that's one we didn't think of."

"And no wonder Conall was displeased," added Amrys.

"Why?" asked Brie.

"It is unlucky to receive a sharp object, such as a knife or a sword—or even an arrow—as a wedding gift. It is believed to be an omen that the union will be severed. Interesting design," Amrys commented, examining the shaft of the arrow. "Can't quite make it out. Almost Ellyl-like..." Then his eyes narrowed. He brought the arrow closer to his eyes. "Curious..."

"What is it?" asked Rainne.

"May I take this to my study?" Amrys asked Brie abruptly.

"If I may come with you."

"Of course." Brie followed her uncle out of the room, while Rainne stayed behind to attend to the plans for Masha's burial.

***

Amrys set the arrow down on his desk and crossed to his bookshelves. Taking out a large dusty book, he thumbed through the pages.

He replaced the volume, then took out another. Bringing the book back to the desk, he set it down next to the arrow. He riffled through the pages and began muttering, "No, it's not a peregrine..." Then he retrieved yet another book. "By Amergin, this is most fascinating..."

Impatiently Brie circled the desk and peered at the open books. They were books about birds.

"There it is, a goldenhawk," he said finally in triumph, stabbing at a picture with his finger. The bird was a deep gold color with dark markings on its outstretched wings and had the curved beak and proud stare of a bird of prey.

"The fletching feathers?" Brie asked.

Her uncle bobbed his head excitedly. "Extremely rare. And found only in Dungal. Quite extraordinary."

Brie felt a quickening of excitement. Dungal again. Seila had brought the arrow from Dungal. And Aideen had told Masha where it was hidden, so that one day it would come to Brie.

"Uncle Amrys," Brie said suddenly, "when you first touched it ... did the arrow feel hot to you?"

"Eh? Hot, you say? No, not particularly. Why?" He looked at her with a puzzled expression.

"Uh, no reason."

That afternoon Brie helped her aunt prepare Masha's body for burial. They wrapped her in an ivory linen cloth. The border of the cloth was woven in brown thread and depicted the three faces of Solas, the goddess of birth, death, and rebirth.

Dun Slieve had its own burial ground, a traditional passage grave built on a nearby hilltop. Carved inside the hill was a large vaulted inner room, which was entered through a long cruciform passage. Masha's conra, the wooden box in which she was placed, was interred beside that of Aideen.

Brie stayed behind in the passage grave after the others had returned to the dun. Standing silently beside the graves of her father, her mother, and now Masha, Brie tried to think of some last words to say to them, but she could not. Her breathing loud in her ears, she abruptly turned and left the burial place.

***

"I go tomorrow," Brie announced that evening at dinner.

Her aunt and uncle looked stunned.

"Where?" said Amrys.

"Why?" Rainne asked simultaneously.

"I go to the Blue Stack Mountains and from there, most likely, to Dungal, in pursuit of the traitor Bricriu," Brie replied calmly. And my father's murderers, if he should lead me there, she thought to herself.

"This is absurd! I will not have my niece wandering about the country on foolish and dangerous missions," sputtered her uncle. Brie saw her aunt shoot him a warning glance.

Brie's gaze fell to her plate. Uncle Amrys continued to speak, his cheeks flushed. "No one in their right mind would even think of venturing across the Blue Stack Mountains. I will not allow it."

Brie's chin went up and she gazed defiantly at her uncle.

"Amrys, would you please pass me the bittergreens?" interrupted Aunt Rainne. Brie's uncle turned to Rainne with a look of irritation. Then he glanced around the table vaguely. Finally locating the platter at his elbow, he handed it to Aunt Rainne.

Before he could resume his lecture, Rainne spoke, her tone direct and gentle. "Breigit, you lost your mother before you even knew her, and then, at a young age, witnessed the murder of your father. And now Masha. If this man Bricriu murdered her, then it was a vile act and he should be punished. But it is not up to you to render justice."

Brie opened her mouth to speak, but Rainne continued. "I know you wish to pursue your father's killers, but do you not think it better to return to the business of living your own life? What good can such a journey do you?"

"I do not wish to speak of this anymore, Aunt Rainne," Brie interrupted, her voice implacable. "I leave tomorrow."

"It is preposterous!" exclaimed Amrys.

But Rainne bowed her head and said softly, "Very well. I understand that you are seeking answers, Breigit, and your uncle and I want you to know that if you discover that these answers lie at home, at Dun Slieve, we are here and always will be."

"Thank you," Brie replied, her own voice softening.

"But Rainne—," interjected Uncle Amrys.

"My dear, do you not have a map of Dungal somewhere about? I remember you telling me you found it among those documents you purchased from that vendor in Temair."

"Why, yes, I do believe you are correct. Got it at the same time I received the Vetigullian manuscript. I'm quite sure the vendor had no idea of its true worth." Amrys's eyes brightened at the memory, his anger at Brie vanishing. "Indeed, it was quite an extraordinary find..."

***

That night Brie had the dream again. This time the bird came so close she could almost feel the powerful yellow wings beating against her face. When she woke she was gasping for breath and covered in sweat. At least I didn't scream, she thought grimly.

She rose, still shaky, and crossed to a small basin of water. She rinsed her face in the cold water. Wiping her face with a towel, she glanced at her quiver. Suddenly she wanted to see the arrow.

Quickly she pulled it out. The arrow was warm; it gave off a reassuring warmth that felt good against her skin. She ran her fingertips over the soft feathers. A goldenhawk, she mused, then her body went rigid. Was it possible...?

She put the arrow back in the quiver, donned a jersey for warmth, and exited her room.

Brie impatiently ascended the stairway to her uncle's study, thinking she must be losing her mind. She entered, lit an oil lamp, and began scanning the shelves. Finally she found the book with the picture of the goldenhawk. She stared at the bird. Except for the coloring, it was exactly the same as the bird in her dream.