Fire Arrow

SIX

The Mountains

Brie let go of the arrow with a cry of pain, realizing at the same moment that she smelled smoke. She heard crackling and was aware of a wild unnatural flutter of light in the barn. The hayloft at the other end of the barn was aflame. Brie leaped to her feet, shoving the arrow into her quiver.

The barn was filled with the grunts, yelps, squeaks, and howls of terrified animals, A squealing pig slammed against Brie's legs and she was almost knocked flat. The fire had snaked its way along the hay-strewn floor, cutting Brie off from the door. Although Brie had purposely left the barn door ajar before going to her pallet, it was now shut tight.

The heat and smoke thickened. Coughing, she rummaged in her pack for a kerchief, which she quickly clamped over her nose and mouth. Then she scanned the wall behind her. There was a small open window set just above the top of her head.

Brie shoved a bale of hay under the window, and climbed onto the straw; she lifted her pack and stuffed it through the opening. The heat of the fire beat against her skin and smoke clogged her throat. Maddened animals jostled against the bale she stood on as they tried desperately to escape the flames.

As Brie hoisted her body to the window, the bale underneath her feet ignited. Kicking out at the burning hay, she swung her body up and through the window. She dropped heavily, then darted around to the front of the barn to let the animals out. She had just lifted the wooden bar and begun to pull open the large door when a large, foul-smelling creature sprang on her from behind. Its fur-matted arm wound around her throat, jerking her head back in a choke hold. Gasping, Brie desperately groped for the quiver slung across her back. The arm was like iron around her neck, immovable, and Brie felt herself weakening. Suddenly a swarm of animals burst out of the flaming barn, and the creature's arm was knocked loose. Brie reached into her quiver and grabbed hold of the red-hot fire arrow.

The painful heat on her fingers startled her, but she held fast and swiftly plunged the arrow into the creature's neck. Her attacker let out a scream, falling heavily to the ground. There was the rank smell of burnt flesh. Brie pulled the arrow out of the creature's neck and quickly thrust it back into her quiver.

Brie had a fleeting glimpse of the goatish face and dead bulging eyes before she heard Rilla's voice calling her name. The girl was running toward her, blood flowing down the side of her face. When she reached Brie, Rilla's eyes rolled up under her eyelids and she collapsed. Brie dropped to her knees beside the farmwife. Rilla's copper-colored hair was soaked with blood. Brie found the wound and laid her hand on it as she tore off her tunic. Wadding it up, Brie held the cloth to the girl's head.

Rilla gazed up at her. "When you ... go to Dungal ... tell my father good-bye." Rilla's small hand pressed something into Brie's palm. "Pob hwyl," the girl said, smiling. Rilla's eyelids closed. She began, to speak softly. "Ladran ... the mountains...," she whispered, then stopped. Brie leaned closer; Rilla was dead.

Suddenly Brie heard guttural shouts and, hugging her pack to her chest, she sprinted across the yard. She spotted a large bag of feed leaning up against a feeding trough and she dropped to her stomach, squeezing herself into the small space between the bag and the trough. She could just barely see three figures run into the yard. They found their fallen companion and immediately separated to search for his killer. Brie's heart thudded unevenly against her ribs. Clutched in her hand was the small object Rilla had given her. It was a panner. Without looking at it, Brie stuffed the wooden disk into her pocket and made herself as small as she could under the bag of feed.

One of the gabha found Rilla's body. It leaned over the fallen girl, gave the body a kick to make sure she was dead, and then turned toward the house.

As the goat-man came closer to Brie, she could see its features clearly for the first time. Its face was a horrible mangled blend of man and goat: man-lips, jutting goatteeth, and a long black tongue that flicked in and out. The eyes were almost fishlike, set on the sides of its head, but they protruded, oval shaped and malevolent, with an enormous black iris and a clear white dot of a pupil in the center. And while most goats' faces are stupid, almost grandfatherly, this one bore a cunning and brutal expression. On its lower body the goat-man wore the skin of a goat; its arms, shoulders, and neck, as well as its face, were thickly covered with hair. Swinging from a belt at the creature's waist were what looked to be parts of a real goat—feet, ears, even an organ that could have been a heart. Brie shuddered. The goat-man walked past without seeing her.

Then she saw Ladran emerge from the house. Catching sight of Rilla's body, he let out a high keening sound and ran at the gabha.

The creature knocked Ladran down with a single blow. Brie watched as the farmer lay on the ground, tears running from his eyes. The goat-man put a foot—or was it a hoof?—on Ladran's neck and seemed to ask a question. Ladran shook his head. The gabha drew a blade and swiftly, brutally, stabbed Ladran through the heart.

The gabha was soon joined by his companions, and they proceeded to torch the remaining buildings, including the house. Brie lay very still under the bag of pig feed. She closed her eyes as the gabha chased down and slaughtered the terrified farm animals. Finally they rode off on their goatlike steeds, animal carcasses draped over the beasts' hindquarters, each gabha braying in triumph.

Brie rose and crossed to Rilla. Under the girl's arm was a small bundle. Brie gently removed it, and, carefully untying the strings, she looked inside to see hundreds of the little panners. The colors glittered jewel-like in the light of the burning buildings. Retying the bundle, she thrust it into her pack. The flames around her were getting higher and more fierce, so she swung her pack onto her back and ran.

***

Later, by a small stream, Brie splashed her face with cold water, shivering though the night was warm. She left her tunic soaking, Rilla's blood washing away in the clear flowing water.

Brie reached into her pocket and drew out Rilla's panner. Pictured on the small disk was a bow stave that was plainly Brie's, and flying from it, in an arc over what looked to be water, was the fire arrow.

Brie caught her breath. She had not shown Rilla the arrow. She had never left her quiver unattended, and, even if she had, she did not believe Rilla was the sort to look through her things.

Was Rilla perhaps a wyll? Aelwyn had not said so. But then why the picture on the panner? Was it a dream? Or a prophecy?

A faint rustling caught Brie's attention, and she looked up. Two gabha were not fifty yards downstream, running toward her.

Brie grabbed her wet tunic, pack, and quiver, and ran. The goat-men were swift, but Brie managed to keep ahead of them. She found herself pounding back along the path that bordered Lake Or, moving away from the mountains.

There was a tremendous boom and the ground under her shook. Just ahead a column of blue flame exploded upward, sending plumes of light into the still-dark sky.

Brie rounded a corner and there was the scree, behind which lay the porth into Tir a Ceol. Against the face of the scree danced large tongues of blue-white flame.

Then Brie stumbled, tripping over the bodies of two dead goat-men. Their faces were blackened as if from the fire. She jumped to her feet and continued to run.

The gabha who pursued Brie burst onto the path. They let out brays of rage on seeing their fallen comrades and lunged after her. She ran hard toward the place she had entered the porth, praying she would be able to slip through without Monodnock's help. But even as she came to the slit in the rock, a bony hand closed over her wrist and pulled her through.

"Stand away," came the Ellyl's whisper. His face looked even paler than usual in the gloom, and his limbs seemed to be trembling.

Breathing hard, Brie sank to her knees. She watched as the gangly Ellyl leaned toward the entrance. He rested his hands and face against the rock wall. Then there was another booming sound and Monodnock fell back onto his rear with a small whimper, his skinny legs flailing. Brie quickly crossed to him.

"You are most kind, dearest maiden," Monodnock said, in a voice that shook, his hand fluttering in Brie's direction. He drew out a large floral handkerchief to wipe his brow, but his hand was trembling so hard that he almost missed his face altogether.

"Dreadful creatures," he said. "Do you know what they sought to do?"

Brie shook her head.

"Seal the porth."

"Seal it?"

Monodnock nodded vigorously. "It is unheard of. And where they got the draoicht...! Gabha aren't supposed to have any draoicht. Well, I can't be expected to fight off hordes of goat-men with draoicht."

"I saw only two. And the two after me."

"Just the beginning."

"Perhaps you ought to send word to King Midir."

"Of course." Monodnock brightened a little. "And he will send reinforcements, though goodness knows I haven't the room to accommodate very many Ellylon in my humble dwelling..."

Brie crossed to the crack in the rock and tried peering out to see what had happened to the gabha who had pursued her. She thought she saw two more bodies lying on the path.

"Monodnock," she said, interrupting the Ellyl's ruminations on how he would house Ellyl reinforcements. "I must get to Dungal."

"Oh, no, most lovely maiden, you must not think of going to Dungal, not now, with the foothills crawling with those vile creatures. And I just had word yesterday, from a passing Ellyl, that there is something odd going on in Dungal. What was it? Oh dear, all this excitement has quite driven it out of my mind. Something to do with fish." He squinted his silver eyes shut in an effort to remember.

"Fish?"

"Yes, fish. I'm sure of it. Oh, oh, now I remember. It appears that something is killing off the fish in Dungal. No one knows what. And I have to say this is indeed a calamity. From what I've heard, fish is the only thing they know how to cook there. The rest is all quite hideous: meat with no sauce of any kind, potatoes, and stringy, limp vegetables.

And then there are those enormous mountains to get through. So, please, do not think of going to Dungal, not for one more moment."

"I'm afraid I must." She looked up at Monodnock hopefully. "I don't suppose there is a way to Dungal through Tir a Ceol?"

"As a matter of fact there is."

Brie's expression brightened.

"Though you would need to be a decent swimmer. It is all underwater. A hundred miles or so."

"I see."

"Now if that doesn't suit you, there is, at least, a very pleasant shortcut through the first mountain. Inside it, in fact. It is a bit cramped, but it takes you all the way through into Sura's Gorge, and well past those gabha I've observed watching the pathways into the Blue Stacks. But please, most charming, graceful, and highborn lady, rethink this absurdly dangerous quest."

"I would be very grateful for your help; Monodnock."

The Ellyl sighed. "Very well. Follow me."

***

To call this a "bit cramped," Brie thought some time later, was far too generous. She had been in small spaces before and had not thought of herself as particularly uncomfortable in them, but never before had she been crushed between two walls of cold, jagged rock. She tried to breathe slowly and evenly, convincing herself that there was sufficient air to keep her alive a little while longer. After all, Monodnock wouldn't take her where she would be likely to suffocate. That is, if he did not forget that Eirrenians need more air than Ellylon.

They inched forward. Brie willed herself not to ask if they were almost there. Better, perhaps, not to know.

There camera time, though, when she could not push down the panic any longer, when Brie realized that even if she turned back she would still be trapped, flattened between enormous slabs of crushing rock for hours to come. A cold sweat broke out on her skin.

"Monodnock," she whispered to keep from screaming. "How much longer?"

"Not much. Relaxing, isn't it? Nothing I enjoy better than feeling this good solid rock right up against me. Just look at the texture..." He held up a dim light. Brie tried to concentrate on the whorls and ridges of the rock surface. Her chest felt ready to explode.

"Uhp ... Here we are." Monodnock stepped down into an open space and Brie followed, sinking gratefully to her knees. She closed her eyes and took several deep draughts of air.

"Oh, my dear lady, you look quite peaked," Monodnock said with concern. "Shall we rest?"

"Perhaps a moment or two," Brie replied dryly.

"Very well. I could do with a snack." Monodnock pulled out a small wedge of brisgein—an Ellyl delicacy made of stalks of heather and silverwood—and offered one to Brie. She took it, her hand shaking only a little.

"Oh, dear maiden." Monodnock pressed a hand to his heart. "It makes me quite ill to think of you, with danger pressing on all sides. If only I were free to journey with you, be your champion, vanquish the devils who beset you!" Then he stood straight up, pulling his lanky frame into a heroic pose and rubbing his orange hair into a frenzy of spikes.

"Alas, you are not free," said Brie, casting her face down to hide the smile. "But I will always be in your debt for your many kindnesses."

"Ah, 'twas nothing, nothing at all," he said mournfully.

"You are needed here at your post. There may be further attacks on the porth by the gabha."

Monodnock's heroic pose suddenly sagged and he began muttering, "I must send word right away to King Midir. I wonder how many reinforcements he will send. I could fit no more than three and even then it would be quite cramped." He began walking away. "And what of my food stocks? Oh, I do hope they won't have large appetites..."

"Excuse me, Monodnock," interrupted Brie, "but how do I get out of here?"

"Oh, just go down that tunnel; it will lead into a cave, and out the cave's entrance lies Sura's Gorge. Now, I could fit two Ellylon in the parlor, provided they are small ... Oh, but will I have enough coverlets? The last time I checked..."

Brie watched him disappear into the rock and then turned and made her way down the tunnel.

She emerged into Sura's Gorge through a narrow rectangular passage, almost stumbling down a steep pitch that ended in a creek. Carefully she began to descend, but she ended up sliding most of the way down on her backside, landing with a splash in the creek.

Rising, she gazed back at the mountain through which she had passed with Monodnock. It was steep and forbidding, though she wasn't entirely sure the shortcut had been worth it. Ahead stretched a jagged mountainscape. According to Crann's map, the tallest peaks were called Beirt, or the Twins, and she could just see them in the far distance.

Aelwyn had told her that Beirt was really two spires standing side by side, like twins, almost identical in shape. Between the Twins lay Beirthoud's Pass. Taking a deep breath, Brie set out, following the creek through the gorge.

By twilight she had ascended the first mountain that lay between her and Beirthoud's Pass. The path had been an easy one, ascending in zigzags to the top. But the descent was trickier and steeper, and again she spent much of it sliding in a downpour of loose stones and scrub.

When she reached the valley, Brie made camp and spent the night there. So far she had seen no sign of any goat-men.

***

During the next few days, as she traversed a smaller range of mountains dense with pine trees, Brie occasionally looked at Ladran's map, comparing it to Crann's. As she had suspected, the farmer's map was a lie. He had sought to misdirect her; without Crann's map she would almost certainly have gotten hopelessly lost in the vastness of the Blue Stacks.

Brie quickly found that hiking up and down mountains taxed leg and back muscles she had used but little before. And she developed blisters the size of coins on her heels. But the grandeur of the mountains, their wildness and dignity and beauty, filled her with awe.

As the days succeeded each other, Brie found herself getting stronger, able to travel farther in a day. Still, it took her two days of backbreaking exertion to reach Beirthoud's Pass. She had several terrifying moments when she had to scale almost-sheer stretches of rock face, made even more treacherous by the occasional patch of icy snow, which at this high altitude never completely melted. But finally Brie reached the summit.

There was a small rock marker with beirt bealach faintly inscribed on it; "Beirthoud's Pass" in the old language. With a fresh mountain wind blowing across her face, Brie felt a surge of exhilaration. She gazed at the two snowcapped spires rising on either side of her—the Twins—and beyond, to the north, she could see the kingdom of Dungal, the sea glittering alongside it. After Beirthoud's Pass, she had only two summits of significant size to cross, and then she would be in the foothills of Dungal.

***

Two days later, Brie had just crested the second of the two peaks and was gazing down in some despair at what looked to be a sheer wall of rock when she was struck by an enormous blast of wind. She had been vaguely aware that the wind had picked up, but was unprepared for the strength of the gust. The force of the wind pushed her to the edge, her feet skidding off into open air. She grabbed at the path, but the weight of her body pulled her down and she was over the side of the ledge. One hand caught hold of a protruding rock and she hung against the face of the cliff, terrified. Gazing down over her shoulder she could see another ledge, perhaps thirty feet below. The toes of her boots scrabbled against the rock face. The wind tore at her. Suddenly the piece of rock under her fingers came loose and she lost her handhold.

She fell.