Fire Arrow

TWENTY

The Battle

Brie swung herself onto Ciaran's back. Collun and Fiain came up beside them, and silently they entered the forest, Fara padding alongside. The fog had thickened and it eddied up around Ciaran's chest, making her skittish. The Dungalan army, with its ragtag blend of foot soldiers and those who were mounted, fell in behind them.

"I wonder if your Sea Dyak sorcerer has woven this mist for us," said Collun.

"The only weaving Sago is interested in is that little fishing net of his," Brie replied. And indeed she had seen him not long ago perched on his fat pony. The alarming calmness had gone and he was back to his old self, working on the ragged net and singing of oranges and gooseberries. She was glad, at least, to see that he had stayed at the rear of the army. Brie noticed that Monodnock had attached himself to Sago, most certainly because of his position at the back.

The company made its way through the woods in the predawn darkness. Brie marveled at how quietly this mass of people, horses, and dogs was able to move through the trees.

When they reached the forest's edge, Brie signaled to the archers to come up along her right side and spread out. Brie could just make out the beginning of the gabha encampment, a cluster of crudely built wooden huts, thatched with straw, scattered among the sedges and shrubs of the fields stretching to the east of Sedd Wydyr. With a satisfied nod, Brie again signaled, this time to the archers who bore the special arrows.

The incendiary arrows flew high, their arcs wavering slightly because of the wad of oil-soaked hemp lodged next to the arrowhead. Some plunged into the ground, igniting the dry grass and scrub; some plummeted down onto the thatched roofs of the gabha huts; one or two even found a sleeping goat-man. Plumes of smoke rose, mingling with the fog, and bursts of fire flared throughout the camp. The goat-horses began a frenzied braying, and there were guttural shouts from gabha throats.

Brie signaled to a man from the village Cerriw, and the melodic, high-pitched notes of a Dungalan war horn sounded.

She and Collun exchanged glances, then Brie laid her hand on Ciaran's neck. They broke forward, the two Ellyl horses neck to neck. Brie could hear the muffled thunder of hooves behind her.

Ciaran was a nose ahead of Fiain as they burst into the gabha camp, trampling flame and sparks under their hooves. A scattering of goat-men came running with snatched-up weapons.

At Brie's unspoken command, Ciaran halted and, digging her knees into the Ellyl horse's back, Brie shot off several arrows in quick succession. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Collun meet the charge of a large goat-man swinging a thick club. And Fara was a whirling mass of claws and teeth and fur.

Brie rained arrows on any goat-man who staggered out of the smoke. Ill-organized and dazed, the creatures were easy targets. Backed up by the Dungalan archers, Brie struck again, and then again. Sweat trickled into her eyes, and her arm began to ache. From beside her, around her, and over her head, arrows flew. Any goat-men that the archers missed were met by Dungalan soldiers with swords and spears.

Bodies lay thick on the ground. Then Brie heard the strident note of another horn; it made a sound different than the Dungalan horn—a raw, jarring series of notes. Ahead of her, a stone's throw away, she saw what looked like two large white corkscrews, spiraling up, splitting the smoke. It was the gabha leader, Cernu. The gabha horn sounded again, and the goat-men fell back, answering the call of their leader.

Dismounting, Brie found Collun in the fog and smoke. He, too, had dismounted. The Ellyl horses were, on their own, doing considerable damage with hooves and teeth to the gabha they met. Collun's sword blade was bloody and he looked pale, but he managed a grin of sorts when he caught sight of Brie. Brie felt something rub against her legs and looked down to see Fara, whose white coat bore streaks of blood.

Before Brie and Collun could exchange a word, the goat-men surged forward. Cernu had organized his forces and they were attacking. Brie and Collun advanced to meet them. The Dungalan horn sounded again, and from then on Brie was surrounded by the feral, snarling faces of goat-men. Her ears rang with a fearful noise—swords clanging, screams of the injured and dying, and the braying of the gabha. She swung her small sword, her mind gone somewhere else. She killed, over and over again, but it did not seem real.

There were only a handful of moments that pierced through the numbness, an occasional vivid glimpse of something familiar and startling, such as Collun's pale set jaw as he wielded the sword he had found in the passage grave; Aelwyn the wyll, small and fierce, her colorful layers of clothing swirling as she laid about her with a shining sharp knife, jewels sparkling in its handle; Silien, the Ellyl prince, nimble and deft, his silver eyes gleaming and the blue-tinged sword he held in his hand flashing; Maire, her face shining with fierce courage, fighting alongside her brother. Brie caught sight of the confused, tremulous look on the boy Dil's face when he felled his first goat-man with an arrow. And Brie saw flames reflected on Jacan's sword and on the swinging blade of a goat-man's ax as the fisherman thrust his blade into the creature's side. She had a moment of horrified disbelief as she saw the Ardaran fisherman Henle fall, his chest slit open by a gabha spear.

Then the goat-men were falling back, and Brie had a brief, flaring sense of hope, but it flickered out when she saw the leader, Cernu, marshaling a fresh legion of gabha troops, directing them to circle the eastern flank of the Dungalan army.

The right side of the company turned to face the onslaught, and once more Brie was pulled into the vortex of straining bodies and plunging weapons. Her sword was knocked out of her hands by a goat-man with a spiked club. Her wrist went numb and she fumbled for her dagger, ducking the creature's next swing. She darted under his arm and plunged her dagger into the top of his stomach. He fell heavily, blood flowing over Brie's numb wrist. She peered and groped around on the ground, but could not find her sword.

Suddenly she saw Dil. A goat-man twice his size had pinned him to the ground, his fur-matted hands encircling the boy's throat. Like lightning Brie sheathed her dagger and reached for an arrow, but found that her quiver was empty, except for the fire arrow.

For a split second she hesitated, then realized she would not be able to get a clear shot; too many were lurching in and out of the arrow's path. Brie drew her dagger, muttered a curse under her breath, and ran at the goat-man.

She was lipon him before he saw her and she sank her knife into his neck. He let out a bray and jerked backward, surprising her. The dagger fell from her hand and she was thrown to the ground, the breath knocked out of her.

Suddenly the goat-man was on top of her and the smell of him was up her nostrils and in her mouth. Her face was buried in the thick foul hair of his chest and she could not breathe. She screamed soundlessly and pushed at the straining body. Then the goat-man abruptly went limp. With a great effort she heaved the inert body off her and lay still a few moments, gasping for breath. Hanna smiled down at her, a bloody blade in her hand. She offered Brie a hand up, giving her back her own dagger, then turned to meet the charge of yet another goat-man.

Somehow Cernu and his army had managed to turn the Dungalans around and were pushing them toward the sea, along the southern edge of the fortress Sedd Wydyr. Behind them, not a hundred yards back, was the white beach. The sun had risen and was now shining in the eyes of the Dungalans.

Then Brie saw Hanna go down, and the goat-man she had been fighting raised his club to crush her head. This time Brie did not hesitate. She quickly reached for the fire arrow. No one was in the way. She nocked the arrow to her bow, but as she pulled it back, the string broke. Brie let out a cry of frustration.

Hanna twisted away from the goat-man's club just in time, but the creature grabbed her by the hair, unsheathing a knife.

Brie grasped the arrow in her hand and sprang toward the goat-man. As she ran she realized this was the second time she had used the fire arrow as a knife and irrationally wondered if the arrow minded.

As if in response the shaft stung her fingers with heat, shocking her a little, but she maintained her grip. The goat-man saw her coming and, still holding Hanna by the hair, threw back his head and brayed.

Brie slashed at him with the fire arrow.

There was a smell of scorched hair, a flash of orange and blue, and the goat-man was. looking at his smoldering arm in surprise. He let go of Hanna, who crumpled to the ground, eyes closed. Brie struck again, and again there was the stench of burning animal flesh. The goat-man fell heavily, the hair on his torso aflame, dead before he hit the ground.

Brie's hand smarted, and she briefly glanced down at the webbing of tiny blisters already appearing on her palm. Then she crouched beside Hanna. The older woman had a knife wound in her side, but she was conscious. Quickly Brie pulled her a short distance from the fighting, to a clearing alongside a clump of sea grass.

Spotting Collun, Brie called out to him. He ran up and checked Hanna over, binding her wound. Hanna weakly protested that she was fine, ready to return to battle. Brie shook her head decisively.

Looking out at the ragtag Dungalan army, Brie's heart constricted. They were weakening. Most had borne at least one wound and all were exhausted, their faces pale under the blood and dirt. So far they had lost only a handful of soldiers, but it was only a matter of time, Brie thought, before it would be many more. Her own clothing was soaked with blood, though most of it gabha, and her body ached with fatigue. Ordering the older woman to stay put, she and Collun returned to battle. The sun was directly overhead.

Ciaran and the faol came to Brie. Wearily the girl mounted the Ellyl horse. Ciaran reared, letting out a whinny that sounded like a war cry. Brie heard the words "fire arrow" burn inside her head, and she was not sure if they came from Ciaran or from the arrow itself, but she drew herself up. She grasped the shaft of. the fire arrow and held it aloft. It still burned against her hand, but as she held it high the fire arrow began to send out a yellow light, like a sort of beacon.

Then Ciaran plunged into the ranks of the gabha army.

Brie wielded the arrow with a relentless, stupefied violence. The gabha were living creatures to her no more, merely targets to be burned and obliterated. The arrow was practically fused to her hand under a mat of blisters and oozing flesh. She marveled at the strength of the shaft, like a peerless war blade tempered in the finest forge.

The gabha were spooked by the arrow and fell away in droves. And the sight of their Bren-huan wielding the fire arrow gave the Dungalans new heart.

The heat from the arrow seemed to have set Brie's whole body aflame and her arm was desperately tired, yet propelled by flame and pain and sheer stubbornness, she fought on. At one point she remembered dismounting Ciaran, because she noticed a nasty slashing burn across the horse's right flank. Ciaran protested, but Brie ignored her. She sliced and torched with her arrow-sword, while Ciaran and Fara stayed beside her, fighting with their hooves and claws and teeth.

"Brie," she heard through the searing haze of flame and smoke. It was Lom; he had laid a hand on her arm. Brie stared back at Lom, barely recognizing him. Smoldering bodies lay around her in heaps.

"'Tis time for retreating," Lom said almost gently, his face gaunt with fatigue. "Come." He pulled Brie through the lines, Ciaran following. The sun was low in the gray-orange sky.

Only then did Brie realize that the gabha had retreated. Cernu was marshaling his troops, to reorganize and to calm the goat-men's fear of the maiden bearing fire in her hand.

In a daze Brie followed Lom to the shelter of some ruined buildings that lay at the edge of land and shore, perhaps once a small fishing enclave under the royal protection of Sedd Wydyr. Sea grass and reeds sprouted freely among the stones. Curlews circled above, and the air smelled of salt and seawater. Ghostlike, Brie walked among the Dungalans, searching their faces; she spotted Jacan, Ferg, and Gwil, but not Henle. She saw Maire and her brother, Aelwyn, Sago and Monodnock, Silien, the boy Dil, and finally Collun, crouched beside Hanna. They exchanged a few exhausted words. Hanna reassured Brie that the wound to her side was not serious and told her to tend to her own hurts. Brie nodded and, still dazed, walked to the side of a small stream, which meandered through the ruined buildings on its way to the sea. Fara materialized at her side. Brie washed gabha blood and charred flesh off her skin. Fara rubbed against her legs, lapped at the water briefly, then bounded to Silien, who was distributing bars of brisgein. Next Ciaran came up and drank thirstily. The Ellyl horse raised her head, and for a moment horse and girl stood side by side, Brie's shoulder resting against Ciaran's warm neck.

There is little left in me, Ciaran, Brie thought. She had never been so tired.

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."

"By what?" Brie asked.

"Moths, thousands of them," Monodnock sputtered. "Ghost moths!"

Brie stared at him with a faint stirring of alarm.

"Yes," confirmed Jacan in a calm voice. "There are white moths covering the beach. They fly up into your face when you step on the white stones."

Brie abruptly stood and, gesturing for Jacan to join her, began striding toward the shore.

"Has anyone been affected by the moths?" she asked, urgent.

"I am not sure what you mean," Jacan replied thoughtfully, "but no, other than terrifying Monodnock here and making a few men sneeze."

They had arrived at the beach. When she looked closely, Brie could see the scores of moths resting atop the stones. Their wings pulsed, making the beach look like a living thing. She took a step forward and a swarm of them flew up at her face. She hastily stepped backward. She dipped her finger into a trace of white powder left on her sleeve and sniffed it. It made her sneeze violently, but she felt nothing else, certainly nothing resembling the confusion and empty eyes of Yldir. If these were the moths Balor had used, then he must have added his own sorcery to them. Still, to be cautious, she advised the Dungalans to stay off the beach.

***

Sentries were posted to watch the gabha camp. The mist, which had been burned away by the sun during the day's battle, came up again during the night, ragged and drifting.

It was a queer night, at once edgy and deathly still. The moon hung in. the sky like a swollen yellow fruit. Many among the exhausted company slumbered with a deep-reaching exhaustion, but as many could not sleep, tossing restlessly. There were low-pitched murmurings of pain from those whose wounds bit deep, and the soothing voices of those who tended them. Friends walked together, exchanging words unsaid before; one or two found refuge in song, strains of which, elegiac and silvery, wafted over the ruined buildings with the fog.

Brie sat with Collun and Hanna, Fara curled at her side. She had seen Lom a short time ago walk off into the fog with the girl Maire. Though Hanna's side was heavily bandaged, Brie and Collun had long since given up trying to talk her out of fighting on the morrow.

Unless they were attacked first, the Dungalan army would move as soon as the sun rose.

From where she sat, Brie could see Sago, still cross-legged, by the small heap of stones.

Brie suddenly had horrible images of Sago blundering into the thick of battle, mistaking a gabha ax for a leaping silver kingfish. Resolutely she sought out Monodnock. She found him among the trees at the edge of the forest, secretly snacking on sweetmeats he had squirreled away in his pack. She dragged him back to the heap of stones and ordered him to sit on a rock several feet from Sago.

"I have something very important for you to do, Monodnock," Brie said to the apprehensive Ellyl. "Tomorrow morning, when the battle commences, I want you to ensure that Sago stays far away from the fighting. Do you understand, Monodnock? It is very important." Monodnock looked at her for a moment, uncomprehending. Then his face was split by an enormous smile, so unbelieving was he of his good fortune.

"You must stick to the Sea Dyak sorcerer like barnacles to a rock. Will you pledge to do this, Monodnock?" Brie's eyes bored into the Ellyl's.

"Of course, fairest of maidens. Much as I would have it otherwise, I shall keep the ancient sorcerer far, far away from the perilous battle," Monodnock simpered. "In jeopardy of my own life shall I ensure that your directive is followed!"

Brie turned to look at Sago. He was still bent over his webbing of string and hemp, his frail fingers moving slowly. She fervently hoped that when the battle began he would stay right where he was, lost in his private world.

But Sago suddenly raised his head and, with a deranged grin, gave Brie an exaggerated wink. Then he returned to his slow work. Brie felt a little sick. Hanna had dozed off, but Collun had seen the wink and said, as Brie returned to his side, "You are worried about the Sea Dyak sorcerer."

Brie sighed. "Well, if Monodnock has anything to say about it, they will be halfway to Tir a Ceol when the battle starts." Then she said abruptly, "You could return to Eirren, you know."

"I know." Collun calmly drank hot cyffroi.

"Queen Aine and King Gwynn ought to be warned."

"Yes," Collun agreed, his expression unchanged.

"You are not Dungalan," she persisted. "There is no reason for you to give your life."

"No more are...," Collun started to say, then stopped, a thoughtful look on his face.

Brie shook her head, nettled. "I do not know for certain that my great-grandmother was from Dungal."

"I was not thinking of Seila."

"Then...?"

"I was thinking of the Storm Petrel, of your dancing for the first time. And fishing the deep waters; shooting the arrow of binding; and even this cyffroi..." He gestured at the cup in his hand with a grimace.

Brie stared at him for several moments. "It is true," she replied slowly. "I was happy for a time in Ardara. But..." She paused, then said deliberately, "I was happy, too, at Cuillean's dun."

Brie thought Collun's eyes widened, but she could not read his thoughts.

"Brie...," he started.

"Excuse me," came Aelwyn's voice, "but Lom told me to tell you there is movement in the gabha camp." The sun was just rising, and the wyll's amber eyes glittered.