Fire Arrow

TWENTY-THREE

Leave-taking

The company finally departed the north of Dungal a week later. At their camping place by the forest, they left behind several fresh burial mounds topped with memory stones for those whose battle wounds had finally overtaken them. There was a sense of loss among those who departed, but the enemy had been destroyed and they were returning home.

Collun was still weak but able to ride on his own. Hanna's wound was healing nicely, and Monodnock rode right up at the front of the company telling anyone who would listen of his brilliance in the final battle, as if he himself had woven and wielded the magic fishing net.

Brie wore bandages over her eyes, to give them a chance to rest and heal. But when she lifted the bandages and looked toward the sun, the blackness was not quite so black. Both Hanna and Aelwyn had said that, with time, her eyesight would return to normal.

Before departing their campsite, Brie had insisted on returning to the beach to give a proper burial to Balor. A handful of companions, including Hanna, Collun, and Silien, accompanied Brie, and despite what she had told them of the size of the morg fleet, they were stunned by the enormous amount of debris that had been washed up on the white stones. Brie listened silently as Collun described the grisly scene to her.

They buried Balor on the bluff, building a small cairn of white stones to mark the place. Hanna found a smooth stone and, though sightless, Brie managed to etch on it the name Balor. The single word and the small heap of stones seemed enough.

At her request the others left her alone at the cairn. She knelt there, thinking of the lifeless body underneath, drained of the power he had once wielded so effortlessly. Balor had taken much from her—her father, her childhood—until finally the balance had come undone. And it had taken the fire arrow and the small shell of a sorcerer to set it right again.

As they crossed the battlefield where so many had fallen, Brie thought of Sago. She tried to summon up a picture of the Sea Dyak sorcerer sitting by his perfect lake, a basket full of fish beside him, a smile on his face, and a riddling song on his lips. For a moment she could make out a hazy image, but it faded quickly.

Brie thought of the vivid pictures the fire arrow had once shown her. But ever since the arrow had washed up on the beach, emptied of its draoicht, Brie had also felt an emptiness in herself. There was no more tingling on the skin of her fingers, no more dreams or seeings. Whatever draoicht the fire arrow had stirred in her was gone. She felt a grief, akin to losing a close-bound friend, yet it had been an unruly, sometimes uncomfortable friend.

***

It rained a good deal as the survivors wound their way south, as though making up for the drought of the summer. The army dwindled as the Dungalans returned to their villages and families. Word of the battle and of Balor's defeat spread quickly. By the time they reached Cerriw, Aelwyn's village, the story of Bren-huan and her fire arrow destroying the morg fleet was already known by most of the villagers. The company was given a warm welcome and was urged to stay for feasting and celebration, but they remained only one night; most among them were eager to return to their own families and loved ones.

In Cerriw, Brie took the bandages off her eyes. Her vision was still blurred, but color had returned.

When Aelwyn the wyll bid Collun a lingering, over-enthusiastic good-bye, Brie could see well enough to notice the faint blush in Collun's cheeks. But when she stepped forward to bid her own farewell to the wyll, Aelwyn slipped a small pouch into Brie's hand. The wyll whispered in her ear, "Take these. You don't want to die unwed after all." Inside the pouch was a pair of glittering saphir earrings.

Brie smiled. "Thank you, Aelwyn."

Silien and Monodnock had decided to journey together to Tir a Ceol, though Brie could tell Silien was less than enthusiastic about his companion. Indeed, as they headed off together, Brie overheard Monodnock say, "Perhaps your father might see fit to grant me a posting that is less remote, something closer to the epicenter, if you will, of King Midir's court?"

Silien replied, straight-faced, "Oh, undoubtedly, my father will indeed wish to reward you, Monodnock; for example, he may even place you as one of the leaders of the Ellyl army, to lead Ellyl troops on missions of the utmost danger."

Monodnock paled. "Oh, well, I was not exactly thinking of so great an honor. Indeed, I should be happy with just a modest dwelling, not too terribly far from court..."

"Or perhaps he will make you a spy, sent undercover into Rathcroghan to ferret out Queen Medb's latest plottings. There is no higher honor than the position of spy."

"That would indeed be a great accolade," Monodnock stuttered, his hands frenziedly plucking at his spiky hair, "but the more I think on it, I believe I should miss my little home in the Blue Stack Mountains too much. And indeed, it is an important posting; you never know when the gabha might start stirring up trouble again..."

Brie laughed as the two Ellylon rounded a bend and their voices passed out of hearing.

***

They left Ralfe at Sedd Brennhin. Though rumors were circulating that Prince Durwydd would no longer rule (this did not appear to be ill news for the majority of Dungalans, who thought a great deal more highly of Ralfe than they did of their prince), the grizzled adviser still held off confirming the news.

"I wish to ensure that the succession goes smoothly," Ralfe explained. "Messengers will be sent at once to the village of Pennog, where Durwydd's royal cousin lives. Indeed, if you stay in Dungal, Bren-huan, I am certain that the boy prince would welcome you as a member of the court."

Brie thanked Ralfe, but told him that she planned to return to her home in Eirren. He nodded his understanding, invited her to the new prince's coronation should she still find herself in Dungal, and wished her luck.

Now why did I say "home," Brie thought wryly as she rode off, when I have nothing of the sort?

Tir a Ceol, came Ciaran's voice in her head.

"I'll thank you not to eavesdrop," Brie retorted with a grin. "And last time I looked, Tir a Ceol was your home, not mine."

***

They arrived in Ardara to find that the sumog had vanished, along with the innkeeper of the Speckled Trout. Again they were urged to stay by the grateful villagers, but Brie said they must move on. Despite the warmth of their welcome, she felt uncomfortable in Ardara. It was almost too painful to stay in this place where she did not belong but loved so well. The Storm Petrel lay on the shore, in need of repair after Jacan and Ferg's long absence, and though she would have given much for one last time on its decks, Brie thought it was probably just as well if she didn't return to the sea.

Before they left Ardara, Brie went to Sago's mote with Hanna. The villagers had decided to keep it as it was, a haven for seabirds and a memorial for the fallen Sea Dyak sorcerer.

Someone—Hyslin, no doubt—had tidied up the inside of the mote, and as Brie gazed around at the dim, wavery green interior, sorrow gusted up in her. Hanna put a strong arm around her shoulders. "Why do you not take something of his, as a remembrance?"

Brie gazed around at the shelves full of his sea treasures. She spied a large cluster of moon shells. "You can never have too many moon shells" echoed in her head. She reached out her hand, then hesitated, remembering the feel of the moon shell lodged in Balor's white eye.

"'Oona, moona, mollopy, mite...,"' came Hanna's voice, chanting the counting-out rhyme, "'bimini, jimini, reena..."' Brie smiled and instead remembered the moon shell in Sago's palm as he presented it to her. She picked out a small shell and placed it in her pocket.

As they left the mote, Brie spotted Hela, Lom's boat, out on the water. Lom was at the tiller and Brie could just make out Maire standing near the prow. Brie felt Hanna's eyes on her. "I'm thinking there may be another wedding in Ardara before Cynheafu," Brie said, her voice level.

***

Brie and Collun traveled with Hanna to the havotty where she was to meet the sheep farmer Tharda. When the time came to say good-bye to Hanna, Brie felt sorrow settle on her like a mantle; it made her feel heavy and stupid, without words. She looked into Hanna's face and saw that the older woman's eyes were a deep, bottomless gray. Tears pricked Brie's eyelids and she looked away. Her glance fell on Collun, who had stepped away while they said their good-byes. He was being butted rather forcefully by a black-faced mountain sheep, who mistook him for a rival, and Collun was unsuccessfully trying to fend the animal off, an aggrieved look on his face. Jip bounded at the sheep on one side, and Fara jostled it from the other side. The hapless sheep began bleating frantically. Brie suddenly smiled.

"Biri," came Hanna's voice. She was holding out a book for Brie. "Take this with you."

"But this is your havotty book," Brie protested, glancing at the title. It was a book about Fionna.

"I do not need it. I have enough books here," she said, gesturing at her head.

"Thank you," said Brie, taking the book. Hanna leaned, over and they held each other tightly for a moment. "I will miss you, Hanna."

"And I you," Hanna said gently, releasing Brie. "But you will be back, Bren-huan."

"Perhaps," Brie replied, doubtful.

"No. You will return."

"The hiraeth?" Brie asked. She recalled the long-ago conversation with Aelwyn about the heartsickness that exiled Dungalans feel. "Like a knife in the heart," Aelwyn had said.

"Yes, hiraeth, and because you are queen."

Brie smiled. "Little queen. It is just a name, Hanna."

Hanna shook her head, face serious. "No. You are queen. Sago knew. And Yldir. Seila is Fionna."

Brie stared at Hanna. "No."

"When Queen Fionna disappeared, she must have gone to Eirren and had a family. There is a story there. When you return, you will tell it to me."

Brie shook her head.

"Yes, Biri," responded Hanna matter-of-facdy, "when the time comes, you will return to Dungal, as queen."

***

As they rode through the foothills of the Blue Stacks, Collun gazed sideways at Brie. "You are quiet. What did the Traveler say to you?"

"Nothing of importance," Brie replied absently. She sifted through Hanna's words with wonder. She had never known the Traveler to tell an untruth. And yet, queen?! It was not possible. She would tell Collun later; perhaps they would laugh over it together at the campfire tonight.

They rode in silence for a time, comfortable, easy in each other's company.

"Where do we go now, Brie?"

"Cuillean's dun?"

"Perhaps," Collun said, but he did not sound enthusiastic.

Brie wondered if he was thinking of Renin's burial mound.

"We could visit Talisen at his bard school," Collun suggested.

"Or Nessa in Temair."

Neither one said anything for several minutes.

Tir a Ceol, Brie heard in her head, and laughed.

"What?" asked Collun.

"There is one among us," Brie said, "probably three, who would enjoy a journey to Tir a Ceol."

Fiain let out an enthusiastic whicker, and Fara came loping up next to Ciaran.

"I always said I would return to Tir a Ceol for my father's bow when my journey was done," Brie mused.

"You gave it to the Ellyl Ebba to keep?"

Brie nodded.

"Then let it be Tir a Ceol," responded Collun with a grin. "We can see what torments Silien has devised for Monodnock. And perhaps we could return to Cuillean's dun by harvesttime, not that there will likely be much to harvest..."

They passed a shepherd whose dogs set up a frenzied barking at the sight of the two Ellyl horses and the faol. Waving a greeting, Brie and Collun rode on.

"I was just thinking, Collun, of all the names I have had."

Collun nodded.

"Brie, Breo-Saight, Bren-huan, Breigit, Biri..." She ticked them off on her fingers. "'Oona, moona, mollopy, mite...' I hardly know which of them I am anymore. Oh well. Perhaps I shall be nameless," she said with a grin. "I am without a home, after all; I might as well be without a name."

Collun was silent and his face was unreadable. Finally he spoke. "Brie is a very good name," he said slowly. "And you shall have a home at Cuillean's dun for as long as you wish."

Brie flushed. "Even if I do overwater the harebell and pull up the sweet william thinking it a weed?"

"Even then," Collun said, his voice level. Then Ciaran, with an innocent sidelong glance over her shoulder at Brie, suddenly swerved in very close to Fiain. Smiling, Brie reached out her hand and Collun took it in his.