Fire Arrow

FIVE

Monodnock

Then she must return to Tir a Ceol at once," Brie said without hesitation. "Is she strong enough to journey there?"

"I believe so. I know of a porth—or a portal as you call it—into Tir a Ceol that is not far from here, by Lake Or. But she does not want to go."

Brie looked puzzled. "But you said..."

"She needs to go, but she will not leave you."

"She must."

After swiftly dressing Aelwyn's cut face and cutting loose the disagreeable goat-horse from its tether (for which kindness Brie received a glancing blow to her shin), they set out on foot for Lake Or. Ciaran walked slowly, head down.

They walked until the moon was directly overhead. By then Ciaran was barely able to raise her head, and Aelwyn said her own head was pounding as if from a thousand blacksmith hammers. Brie spotted a small stream and suggested they rest there.

She lit a campfire and went to fill the skin bags. When she returned Aelwyn had already brewed a pan of brownish liquid she called cyffroi. She offered Brie a cup.

Brie tasted it and grimaced.

Aelwyn chuckled. "If you go to Dungal you will get used to it. It is what we drink instead of chicory. I am slightly mad in the morning until I've had my cup of cyffroi. Of course, there are those who say I am mad most of the time, being a wyll."

"What's it like?" asked Brie.

"Being a wyll?" Aelwyn smiled her cat-smile at Brie. "It is not so very different from not being a wyll. Eirrenians think that we are always being bombarded with visions and portents. But seeings come only when I ask for them, when I deepen my thoughts, turn inward. In Dungal they say of us that we have a fire in the head, and I suppose it is so, although it is a fire we kindle ourselves—it is gentle, and, for the most part, without fear. I find it rather pleasant, a hearth fire, if you will." She took a sip of cyffroi, looking thoughtfully at Brie. "I should not be surprised if there was a little of wyll fire in you."

Brie laughed. "That's absurd."

"Why?"

"Because I am Eirrenian and have shown no particular gift for fortune-telling in all my years. No, I have fire in my bow, my arrow, even in my name. That's quite enough fire for me."

"Perhaps, but perhaps not. I have not had a trance that took such hold of me since I was in Dungal, with a fellow wyll who sought the heart of an unbending fisherman."

"Would I not have felt it, if I did have magic or draoicht of some kind?"

"It is usually so. But there have been cases when it lay dormant for many years..."

"Well, I have no wyll fire, nor any draoicht, and that is that." Brie took another sip of the cyffroi. As she got used to the Dungalan beverage, she was noticing that under the bitterness was a subtle taste of nuts and vanilla. "Are there many wylls in Dungal?"

"Not so many as there once were. There used to be at least one in every village. But now many villages have none. The coastal villages had their own kind of wyll; they are men, called Sea Dyak sorcerers. There are also only a very few of these left in Dungal.

"In fact, there is a Sea Dyak sorcerer in Bog Maglu. Perhaps he is the man of power I saw, which could account for the seabirds..." Aelwyn paused as though to examine this train of thought. Then she continued. "He was once the most powerful sorcerer in Dungal; Yldir is his name. I cannot tell you how old he is for no one knows, but there are stories of him alongside heroes who lived hundreds of years ago. Before my parents were born he became a hermit, went off by himself to live in Bog Maglu. There are a few who have made pilgrimages to see him there, and they say he is quite mad, but still powerful. He lives near the stones of memory."

"Why are they called stones of memory?" Brie asked.

"Because they are thought to hold the entire history of Dungal inscribed on their surfaces. Only one of great power, such as Yldir, can read the ciphers and pictures etched in the stones." Aelwyn paused. "I see a Dungalan arrow in your quiver. Is this the arrow of fire you spoke of?"

"Yes. How did you know it to be Dungalan?"

"The fletching feathers are goldenhawk."

"It was my mother's. The man Bricriu tried to steal it. It has bands of color I cannot make out. Perhaps you..." Brie reached for the arrow.

"No," said Aelwyn definitely, raising her hand to arrest Brie's movement. "I prefer not to hold the arrow. Fire magic can be unpredictable."

Brie nodded, thinking of her blistered fingers. "Yet it is cool most of the time." She paused. "Sometimes I feel it is drawing me to Dungal."

"It could be," answered the wyll, smiling. "Take care it does not kindle in you more than you bargained for."

Brie uneasily asked what the wyll meant, but Aelwyn ignored her, saying her head was still pounding and she needed to rest. She finished her cup of cyffroi and settled herself on the ground, pulling her cloak over her face.

***

When dawn came, Brie woke a cranky Aelwyn. Ciaran was already awake, grazing nearby.

While Aelwyn brewed more cyffroi, Brie consulted her map.

"That looks to be a wizard's map," observed Aelwyn.

"It belonged to Crann, the wizard of the trees."

"I have heard of him."

"Where is the village where your friend lives?"

Aelwyn leaned over the map. "Here," she said, pointing to a spot a short distance east of Lake Or. "And this is the way to Beirthoud's Pass." The route through the mountains lay directly north of the lake.

Aelwyn suddenly laughed, her good spirits restored by the cyffroi. "A fire arrow and a wizard's map. And you say there is nothing of wyll fire in you."

***

As they came to the top of a ridge, they saw Lake Or stretched out below them. It was a large lake that glowed golden in the late afternoon light. The lake was bordered on its right side by a gentle rolling terrain of grass and heather, but its left side was dominated by a large fell with sheer screes of loose rock plunging Straight into the water. Beyond Lake Or a fertile green valley with a scattering of farmholds could be seen, and beyond the valley loomed the Blue Stack Mountains. So high did they rise that some were peaked with white, though it was late summer.

Aelwyn led them down the ridge and onto a path leading toward the scree side of the lake. They followed the path until it ended, directly at the foot of a silab of stone. Aelwyn laid her two palms against the rock face and a handful of pebbles cascaded down, splashing into the water. Then she turned to Brie. "Now we wait."

"What did you do?"

"The draoicht equivalent of knocking. I let him know there was an Ellyl here. They don't usually open porths for anyone but Ellylon. They don't mind us Dungalans in general, especially wylls, but they still do not choose to invite us into Tir a Ceol."

They waited in silence. Aelwyn made herself comfortable on a boulder, while Brie stood beside Ciaran, her hand resting lightly on the horse's warm flank.

Suddenly there was a person standing at the foot of the path.

He was tall for an Ellyl, and his body was long, sitting atop two gangly, storklike legs. He had long, skinny arms from which dangled two large hands. His hair was more orange-red than gold, and instead of curling down his neck like the hair of most Ellylon, his was cut short and stood up straight, giving him a slightly demented look. But the eyes were unmistakably Ellyl, a startling silver color that gleamed at Brie and Aelwyn in the twilight.

"I beg your pardon, fair maidens, but I understood there to be an Ellyl at the porth," he said in his thin, somewhat reedy voice.

Ciaran raised her head at the sound of the Ellyl's voice.

"Oh, yes, I see. Come," the Ellyl said. He beckoned and they moved toward him, though Brie did not see where there was a doorway of any kind. Then the Ellyl was gone, and as Brie watched, Aelwyn moved right up to the scree wall, where the path ended, and she was gone, too.

Ciaran suddenly broke into a trot and disappeared as neatly as the others. When Brie came to the end of the path she saw a sliver of a crack in the rock face, and while she was thinking that she would never fit through it, a bony hand closed over hers and she was through, standing in a large, dimly lit cavern.

The Ellyl dropped her hand and strode to Ciaran. He laid his head beside Ciaran's and seemed to be listening attentively.

Aelwyn was moving about the cavern, closely inspecting their surroundings. The Ellyl stood up, running his hand through his spiky orange hair. "My dear young lady," he said, "you will find no gems or trinkets here. Indeed there is little of value here at all. I am afraid this is a remote porth. A lonely posting, especially for one as fond of society as I, yet I endeavor to do my duty with a stout heart. But first things first. Which of you is called Brie? The wyll perhaps?"

"No. I am Brie."

"The horse Ciaran must proceed to Tir a Ceol at once. Will you journey with her?"

Brie hesitated. She felt Ciaran nudge faintly into her thoughts. Come. Brie was suddenly filled with a sharp yearning to revisit the land of Ellylon: to see Ebba, the artist with brindled hair; to visit Slanaigh, who had brought Brie back to life with the healing waters after Brie had been bitten by the demon creature Nemian; and to see Silien, the Ellyl prince and a companion to Brie and Collun when they had traveled to find Collun's sister.

"I cannot," she heard herself say. She crossed to Ciaran, resting her cheek against the horse's warm skin. "Our paths must divide here, Ciaran," she said softly.

There was a buzzing sound in Brie's ears that sounded almost like tears, then the words, Your face needs washing. Brie smiled broadly, saying, "I know."

Fly high and true, Breo-Saight. Ciaran abruptly reared up on her hind legs, broke into a gallop, and was quickly lost to sight.

"Well, very good then, that's done. Allow me to introduce myself. Monodnock is my name, and I am at your service, exceedingly kind damsels." He bowed low from his long waist.

"I am Brie, as you already know," replied the girl, suppressing a smile, "and this is Aelwyn."

"Charmed, without a doubt. Now I hope you fair maids will do me the honor of being my guests for a simple repast at my oh-so-humble dwelling."

Brie and Aelwyn exchanged glances. Then the wyll spoke, her expression demure. "You are very kind."

The Ellyl flushed with pleasure. "Not at all. This way, if you please." He led the way through a dimly lit tunnel.

"Pray do keep in mind that we are at the very back of 'beyond' here. If you are the Breo-Saight of whom even I have heard tell out here in the hinterland, then you have had the pleasure of being entertained by King Midir himself. Most certainly my abode will seem quite squalid in comparison."

But when the Ellyl ushered them into his suite of caverns, Brie saw that they were quite comfortable, even elegant. Monodnock sang softly in his thin voice and several lights kindled in their golden wall sconces, revealing deep pile rugs and a scattering of soft pillows. A large tapestry dominated one wall, depicting a knight in the act of slaying a formidable red-scaled dragon. Shelves of books lined the walls.

As they gazed about in appreciation, Brie noticed that Monodnock's long nose was twitching, and he was darting sidelong glances at the two travelers.

"Well now," he said in a high, rather artificial voice, "perhaps you fair maidens would enjoy a nice hot bath? It must be simply ages since you have been able to pause in your travels to enjoy, uh, the pleasures of, uh, abluting." Monodnock pressed bars of sweet-smelling soap into their hands, his upper lip contorted from the effort of keeping his nose stopped up. He led them to a chamber, where he sang up some hot water in a large and elegant porcelain bathing tub.

Brie and Aelwyn again exchanged looks, but lost no time in availing themselves of the Ellyl's facilities. Each had a long luxurious soak and, after drying with feathery soft towels and dressing in fresh clothing, they rejoined Monodnock in the central chamber. His nose no longer twitching, the Ellyl greeted them with glad cries. "Isn't that ever so much better! Why you both smell—uh, I mean—look perfectly refreshed and splendid."

Then he served them Ellyl tea, which he poured from an elegant white teapot with gold-leaf trim into delicate white teacups of the same design, along with airy white cakes frosted with rich clotted cream and fresh strawberries.

"Now, ladies, pray tell me of your exploits. Nothing of import ever happens here." He sighed. "It is a terrible trial for one who yearns so to answer, the call to adventure." Monodnock ran his hand over his upright hair in a gesture meant to smooth, but the orange spikes only stood up straighter. "I fear you have been ill-used, Miss Aelwyn," he said, eyeing her face.

The wyll raised her hand to her cheek. "Oh, I'd forgotten. Have you a mirror by chance?" she asked with a trace of anxiety.

As Aelwyn critically studied the bruises on her face in a gilt-edged mirror, Brie told the Ellyl of the wyll's ambush by the morgs and goat-man.

"Ah yes. The gabha."

"You have seen them?" asked Brie.

Monodnock nodded. "I saw the first several moons ago. And since then there have been more. I do not know their business. So far they have not made themselves known to the people living along the Blue Stack Mountains, save for the occasional loss of a farm animal, which the Eirrenians attribute to wolves. The gabha have a disgustingly voracious appetite for uncooked flesh." Monodnock shuddered.

"They did not seem to want me to go to Dungal," said Aelwyn, adjusting one of her braids.

"There are not many travelers through the Blue Stacks to Dungal, but I've noticed that the gabha are keeping a close eye on those who do travel there. Still, I have not heard of any attacks on travelers before now. Oh, my dear ladies! The more I ponder the prospect, the more I am convinced that you must not even thin\ of journeying on to Dungal."

"I will go to Dungal," Brie responded firmly.

"And I, too, though not right away," said Aelwyn. She finished the last of the cakes and drained her cup of tea. A mischievous look appeared in her eye as Monodnock refilled her cup.

"I have a splendid idea," she said. "Why do you not journey with Brie to Dungal? She could use a stalwart and brave champion such as yourself." Monodnock's face took on an expression that was half swaggering and half unsure. "Brie is headed on a quest of vital importance, which may even take her deep into the heart of Bog Maglu."

"Ah, to travel," Monodnock began, his eyes wearing an exalted look, "to sally forth, to ... to Bog Maglu?!" He sputtered, raising a trembling hand to his mouth. The Ellyl's face had gone a distinct shade paler, making his hair look even more orange. The hand holding his teacup was shaking so that the cup rattled in its saucer.

"You, uh, didn't actually say 'Bog Maglu,' did you?"

Aelwyn nodded.

"Why, uh, of course, quest and all ... It sounds perfectly, immeasurably thrilling of course ... Bog Maglu, are you sure? I am sure I should be delighted, under other circumstances, but there are penalties for deserting a post, rather severe and all. Desperate as I am to come to the aid of a damsel in distress, it is a terrible crushing disappointment to have to decline ... More cakes, ladies?" he finished brightly.

After that Monodnock seemed to hurry them through the rest of the meal, looking quite pink around the ears. He brought out several fur-lined blankets and more feather pillows, made sure Brie and Aelwyn were quite comfortable, and bade them an abrupt good night. Then he disappeared into his adjoining room.

Brie and Aelwyn took one look at each other and were overcome with giggles. They desperately tried to smother their laughter so Monodnock wouldn't hear. Fatigue soon overwhelmed them, however, and they nestled into their luxurious bedding and fell fast asleep.

***

Brie woke suddenly, something hard digging into her back. She opened her eyes to find herself sitting on the lake path, her back against the hard rock of a scree. Her pack, quiver, and bow were placed neatly beside her. Aelwyn was nearby and she, too, was just waking up.

"We seem to have been rather unceremoniously dismissed from the porth," Brie said.

"Perhaps Mr. Monodnock is not at his best in the morning," said Aelwyn, stretching her body.

"You shouldn't have teased him like that," Brie grumbled, rubbing her back.

"I suppose you're right, but wasn't his expression priceless?...'To sally forth, to Bog Maglu?!' Still, I wish he had saved us some of that strawberry cream cake."

But when they opened their packs they discovered that Monodnock had indeed given them each a hefty portion of cake, as well as a piece of medlar fruit and a big hunk of cheese. They also found that all their clothing had been freshly laundered. And tucked discreetly in with the rest were two bars of sweet-smelling white lilac soap.

"At least his heart is in the right place," said Aelwyn, biting into a strawberry. "You know, I've been meaning to tell you what a great fool you are."

"Oh?" Brie raised her eyebrows.

"To leave behind that handsome young man who cares •for you at Cuillean's dun."

"Indeed." The color rose in Brie's face.

"I saw the way his eyes stayed on you. Collun, that was his name, was it not?"

Brie nodded. "We are friends."

"Of course." Aelwyn yawned, then gazed critically at Brie. "It is not as if you were pretty."

Brie was surprised into laughing out loud.

Aelwyn ignored her. "Although if you took a little trouble..." She reached under several layers of her colorful clothing and retrieved the soft leather pouch that contained her treasures. As she removed her hand, Brie saw something sparkling in her fingers. The wyll leaned over and fastened a pair of earrings to Brie's ears. They were spiral mosaics of differently colored iridescent stones. Aelwyn then unplaited Brie's hair and caught it loosely with a bioran that also glimmered with iridescent gems.

Aelwyn settled back into her place and gazed critically at her handiwork. "Yes. You could do better with what you have."

"Thank you," Brie responded with a smile.

"Still, it is not often one wins that kind of loyalty, especially from one so fair."

Brie's forehead furrowed in puzzlement. "It is Collun we are talking of?" she asked.

"Of course. He must be powerful, as well, to live in such a large dun."

Brie almost laughed again, but refrained, removing the wyll's ornaments from her hair and ears. "It was his father's dun. Collun is a gardener, not a lord."

"So you say," responded Aelwyn, accepting the shiny things from Brie. "But you ought to think about taking more care about your appearance, perhaps wear a skirt every so often; that is, if you do not wish to end up old and unwed."

"Unwed?" Brie replied with some measure of astonishment in her voice.

"Surely the prospect is not an appealing one?"

"I have never thought of it, one way or another," Brie responded. And indeed she had not.

Aelwyn gazed at her with a look of incomprehension. "I believe you speak truly."

"Of course."

Aelwyn stood, shaking out her skirts. "Well, you reap as you sow," she said briskly. "It is time for me to go. My friend's time is near."

They walked back the way they had come, and Aelwyn pointed out a path that followed the lake's edge on the opposite bank. "In the first farmhold you come to beyond the lake lives a Dungalan woman married to an Eirrenian farmer. I do not care for the farmer, but the girl is kind. She will give you a welcome, as well as fresh supplies. They can direct you to the path leading into the mountains and Beirthoud's Pass. And, Breo-Saight, if you should journey into Dungal, to the hill country, and your way takes you near the village Cerriw, know that you will receive a welcome at the home of my family. I may be there as well by then. Farewell."

***

It was midday when Brie arrived at the first farmhold. A heavy, soaking rain had begun to fall, and Brie was welcomed into the snug farm kitchen, where a fire burned cozily on the hearth. Bread was baking and a large well-fed cat rubbed against Brie's legs.

The farmer Ladran was warm enough in his welcome, though Brie thought there was something sly in his eyes. It was his wife, Rilla, who urged Brie to stop with them for the rest of the day and overnight, as well.

"We get so few visitors," she said with a shy smile.

Rilla was a small, pale girl, with copper hair cut short and a voice as soft as ash. When the farmer gazed at his wife, his slyness disappeared; to even the least observant it was plain he was devoted to her.

Brie described Bricriu and asked if the farmer and his wife had seen such a man. Ladran quickly shook his head. "No, no travelers through here, not in a long while."

Rilla looked at Ladran, puzzled. "I thought I saw you talking to, a man a few days ago."

"Ah, no," Ladran responded glibly. "That was Farmer Gluhn. You haven't seen him since he shaved off his beard. He had a sheep go missing, second one in a fortnight, and was asking if I'd seen it about."

Rilla nodded, though said nothing.

She invited Brie to share their meal and served a soup thick with corn and potato, along with bread that was crusty on the outside and melting-soft on the inside.

During the meal Ladran asked Brie where she journeyed. When she replied, "Dungal," a look of the most appalling emptiness came over Rilla's face, the look of one who has lost a part of her body and can still feel the ache of it.

Ladran, paying no heed to his wife's discomfort, advised Brie against the journey. "It's a nice little place," he said, "but there's nothing on that side of the Blue Stacks that you can't find on this side, and then some. And who in their right mind would want to go to all that trouble getting over Beirthoud's Pass? That's my opinion, anyway. And I say that even though I found the treasure of my own life there." His eyes softened as he gazed toward Rilla.

Brie said she was set on going, and Ladran replied that in that case he'd be more than happy to show her the best way through the Blue Stack Mountains.

After dinner Rilla took out a box of paints. She began painting on small circles of wood. "Panners, they're called," explained Ladran. Each was no bigger than a small locket. "No one makes a lovelier panner than my Rilla. It's a craft native to Dungal."

Brie went around behind Rilla and saw that she was painting a miniature portrait on the small wooden disk. The face was that of a man, with a beard and keen blue eyes.

"My father," Rilla said softly. It was extraordinary, Brie thought, how the girl used tiny dots of color and hatch marks to create a face so alive it looked as though it might speak.

"It's exquisite," Brie said.

Rilla flushed slightly then smiled.

***

It rained through the night and into the next day. Rilla shyly invited Brie to stay on with them for the day and, as it was not the most inviting weather to travel in, Brie found herself accepting. Rilla offered her a pallet in the farmhouse, but catching a frown on Ladran's face, Brie said she preferred to sleep in the barn.

Ladran was gone on an errand to a neighboring town from late morning until sundown. As she helped Rilla with chores around the farmhold, Brie found the young farmwife to be very reserved, but then she asked her about Dungal and Rilla's reticence evaporated. Her soft voice became animated as she spoke of her family in the fishing village of Ardara; of the fishing boat called Storm Petrel, on which her father would go out every morning; and of the times, remembered with an acute longing, that Rilla had joined her father on the boat. As Rilla spoke, Brie could almost feel the rough wooden planks of the Storm Petrel under her bare feet and the spray on her face.

"Why did you leave?" Brie asked.

Rilla's face closed. "I married Ladran. He has been a good husband to me," she said tonelessly, and after that she would not speak more of Dungal.

Later, as Brie swept the hearth and Rilla made preserves out of gooseberries, Brie felt as though she was being watched. She turned to find Rilla gazing intently at her. The look on her face was strange, as if she were watching a story unfold. Then she gave a little nod and a smile, and returned to the stirring of the simmering berries.

When Rilla took out her panner work that night, she set aside the one of her father and began a new miniature. She worked on it with great concentration, seemingly unaware of the conversation going on around her. And she placed her hand over it whenever anyone came near.

Ladran also seemed distracted that night, though he made a great commotion about giving Brie directions through the Blue Stacks. After making sure the wooden table was free of crumbs, he laid out a square of muslin. Carefully he drew a map of Beirthoud's Pass on the cloth. His directions were clear, and he went slowly to make sure Brie followed as he traced the way through twisting mountain paths.

He didn't offer to walk Brie to the barn as he had the night before. Brie thanked the couple for dinner, saying she would stop in to bid them farewell in the morning before she left.

As Brie crossed to the barn she was startled by a sudden loud bray. It sounded like a goat. She couldn't remember seeing goats among the animals in Ladran's farmhold. Apprehensively, she looked around in the darkness but saw nothing.

Brie slept fitfully. After several hours she woke. The animals in the barn were restless; a cow lowed uneasily. Brie was filled with a strong desire to see the fire arrow. She pulled her quiver toward her and encircled the shaft with her fingers. It was warm. She fell asleep again, her hand still on the arrow.

She awoke suddenly what seemed a few minutes later. The arrow was white-hot on her fingers.