Fire Arrow (12 page)

Hanna asked Brie many questions about herself, and about Eirren. She was curious about Brie's great-grandmother, Seila, though Brie could tell her little.

In turn Brie asked Hanna about Dungal. She had a deep curiosity about the small kingdom so close to Eirren, yet so apart from it and so unknown. If her great-grandmother was from here, it meant that Brie herself perhaps had Dungalan blood.

Brie asked Hanna how she knew the Eirrenian language so well, and if this was true of all Dungalans. Hanna shook her head. "Travelers often do," she said, but did not elaborate.

"Would you teach me Dungalan?" Brie asked.

"If you wish."

And as they roasted meat or cut vegetables or baked bread together, Hanna began to teach Brie to speak Dungalan.

Hanna was a gifted wood-carver, something she did to pass the time while watching over the sheep. She fashioned a crutch for Brie, sturdy and quite beautiful, with the semblance of an ivy vine climbing the stem.

***

One morning while Hanna was out, Brie retrieved her quiver from the corner of the havotty where Hanna had placed it. Gingerly she removed the fire arrow. She had not looked at it since yanking it out of the goat-man, and there were still traces of charred skin and blood on it. Again she remembered the goat-man's chest splitting open and the smell and the flames.

The arrow felt cool and dull in her fingers, almost as if reproaching her for neglecting it so long. She carried it outside with a bowl of soapy water and a clean rag. As she washed away the blood and hair, the arrow, very faintly, began to hum against her fingers. Brie smiled. "You're welcome," she said, then looked around in embarrassment. Only Fara was nearby, lying in the sun with her eyes shut.

When the arrow was clean, Brie gazed closely at the picture bands. She found that by squinting she could just make out the one she had seen in the mountains, the one that had unraveled, showing the girl child with yellow hair and the seawall. But the rest were just as blurred as before.

"You're a fickle one, aren't you?" she said in a teasing voice.

"Talking to arrows now, eh?" Hanna said, crossing to Brie, her dogs at her heels and a bleating lamb in her arms.

Brie flushed slightly but retorted with a smile, "And this, coming from one who spends her days conversing with dogs and sheep..."

"That's a Dungalan arrow, isn't it?" Hanna said, setting down the lamb. She lifted one of its back legs and began to pry out a small stone that had lodged in the hoof.

"So I've been told."

"It wouldn't be the one killed the goat-man, would it?" Hanna said, glancing up from her task.

"It is."

The stone popped out and the lamb struggled out of Hanna's arms, bleating furiously. Jip quickly herded it back in the direction of the flock.

Hanna sat back on her heels. "May I?" she said, holding out her hand.

Without hesitating, Brie handed her the arrow.

"As I thought. Saeth-tan. Fire arrow," the older woman said softly.

Brie started, hearing Hanna say the name she herself had been calling the arrow. "What is a fire arrow?" she asked.

"Rare thing, never seen one myself, except a picture drawn in a book. Goldenhawk fletching, story bands, and the arrowhead made of black flint. How did you come to acquire a fire arrow?"

Brie explained about the wedding gift and Masha's last words. "The man I followed here sought to steal it from me."

"I shouldn't wonder. Fire arrows are extremely powerful."

Brie smiled wryly. "Indeed. And I've had the blistered fingers to show for it."

"Pardon me, Biri, but if all you've suffered are blistered fingers then either you are extraordinarily lucky or you yourself have something of draoicht in you."

Brie shook her head decisively. "I spoke of this with the wyll Aelwyn. I have no magic."

"No? You travel with an Ellyl animal; most would find that unusual."

"Fara and I are old friends."

"Perhaps the Dungalan Seila was a wyll, or had Ellyl blood."

Brie suddenly remembered the hatred her father had for Ellylon. Perhaps this was why he had disliked Seila so.

She said absently, "I thought I saw her in the mountains, when I lay near death. Her voice kept me alive. And she found the arrow for me when I thought it was lost. But she did not have silver eyes. At any rate, I have no draoicht." Brie's tone was final, signaling an end to the discussion.

***

Later that day, when Hanna had gone off with the dogs to check on the flock, Brie set about making a cord out of an old piece of leather Hanna had found for her. She had decided to string Rilla's panner and wear it as a necklace.

When she had finished whittling a hole at the top of the small disc, Brie stared at the image of the arrow. Were all the women of Dungal possessed of magic powers? she suddenly wondered. And if Brie's great-grandmother had indeed been some kind of wyll, then perhaps Brie herself did have a trace of draoicht thrumming along in her veins. The thought made her uneasy.

She slid the homemade necklace over her head, and the panner settled against her chest as if it belonged there.

***

On her eleventh day at the havotty, though she was still weak and her leg ached, Brie grew restless, frustrated by the forced inactivity. She decided to hike up to Simla's Tor, where Hanna had taken the sheep for the day.

Fara stalked along beside Brie, occasionally loping off to chase down an unsuspecting squirrel. The sun was warm on Brie's hair, and at first she felt good, glad to be doing something and pleased that her strength seemed to be coming back. She would be able to continue her journey soon.

But as the morning wore on, the uphill walk grew more difficult and she began to falter, leaning more and more heavily on the crutch Hanna had made. By the time she reached the tor, her breathing was labored and her face pale and clammy.

"That was a fool thing to do, to come so far," Hanna said, frowning at Brie, who had settled thankfully on a large, flat rock. The dog Jip bounded up to greet Brie, then backed away when he saw the faol. Fara had not yet decided to trust the two sheepdogs.

"I needed the exercise," Brie gasped.

Hanna only snorted. "Where's your skin bag?"

Brie felt at her side. "I forgot it," the girl replied shamefacedly.

"Here," Hanna said gruffly, thrusting her own at Brie. "Now, drink. And stay put."

The older woman moved away, shouting at Maor, who was enthusiastically redirecting a large sheep that had strayed too near an incline.

Brie made herself comfortable on her rock and watched Hanna and the two dogs move among the longhaired, black-faced mountain sheep. Like Brie, the animals seemed restless. She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of barking, bleating, and Hanna's calling voice as they blended and wafted back to her on the warm wind. Brie dozed.

She woke to a flash of light. Confused, she gazed around. The sky had darkened and small splinters of lightning danced among the looming clouds. But there were only faint rumblings of thunder and no rain. Brie could not see Hanna or the dogs.

All of a sudden a small shaft of lightning knifed the air not twenty feet from Brie. She let out a cry and had started to her feet when another crackling dagger of light struck the ground on her other side. Startled, Brie was knocked off balance and she fell, landing on her injured leg. The jolt of pain stunned her and she rolled into a ball, cradling her leg with her arms.

Hanna appeared, at a run, and leaned over Brie. Flashes of white light continued to dance about them.

"Blasted summer storms," Hanna growled. "Can you walk?"

Brie nodded, but it was a struggle just to sit upright. All the sheep seemed to be bleating at once, making a deafening noise.

■ "Uffern!" Hanna exclaimed. Brie recognized the word as a particularly potent Dungalan expletive Hanna had taught her. The older woman's eyes were the color of the gray-black clouds above.

Brie tried to get to her feet. Suddenly Hanna put a restraining hand on Brie's shoulder, holding her in place. Then she closed her eyes and, standing very still, began to move her lips, though no sound emerged.

The flashes of lightning abruptly disappeared and, with an astonishing swiftness, the gray-black clouds rolled across the sky, fading in the distance and leaving bright blue skies in their wake.

Hanna opened her eyes. They were now mirror images of the sky, brilliant blue. Her face, though, was drawn and etched with pain. She lowered herself into a sitting position on the flat rock.

"You did that," Brie said in amazement.

Hanna did not reply.

"I thought you said you were not a wyll."

"I am not."

"Then...?"

"Weather making and unmaking is different from the wyll's hocus-pocus of trances and seeings," Hanna replied in a gruff voice. Then she got heavily to her feet, letting out a faint groan.

"Are you ill?" Brie asked, concerned.

"Headache," Hanna replied curdy. "Blinding thing. Comes from lightning. Either making it or getting rid of it."

"I see. Can I help?"

Hanna glowered at her. "Next time you can stay put until you are ready for a hike to Simla's Tor."

"I'm sorry." Brie pulled herself painfully to her feet.

Hanna grunted. "Just look at the pair of us. Well, I'd best check on the flock, then the dogs can bring them in. I'm hoping we lost none during the lightning storm."

Somehow they made it back. At the havotty Hanna immediately lit a fire and brewed some wood betony tea, her face screwed up with pain.

"Helps the headache," she muttered. She drank off a full cup and then sank into her pallet of straw. She was soon asleep.

***

"We've been having strange storms this summer," Hanna said as she sliced a loaf of brown bread. Brie sat by the hearth, stirring the mutton stew. "Either sudden wind squalls like the one you met in the mountains, or lightning only, with dozens of small bolts and no rain and very little thunder. There's not been much rain at all since early spring. Unusual for Dungal. Likely as not there'll be a big fire one of these days, things being as dry as they are."

"Have you always had weather magic?"

"Yes. Thought it was quite a splendid thing when I was young. But I quickly found out it was not without its price." She gestured at her head, her face still pale. "Interesting thing is, each kind of weather I make or unmake has its own distinctive aftereffect, none of them pleasant. Lightning causes headache. Bringing on rain gives me a bad cold. Making a day warm and sunny invariably brings on fever. At any rate, I don't use it much, the weather making and unmaking. Only in emergencies. Most of the time the weather does a fine job all on its own."

"Don't you get people coming to you, asking for rain for their crops and such?"

"Not many know, these days. I prefer it that way."

Brie spooned stew into their bowls. "Hanna," she began, "the pictures on the fire arrow, you called them story bands?"

Hanna nodded. "Each one, unraveled, tells a story of Dungal's past. Only a wyll, or a sorcerer, can unravel the bands."

"In the mountains, during the storm, I saw one unravel."

Hanna raised her eyebrows.

"I was ill, half-dead, probably hallucinating. It does not mean that I have draoicht," said Brie defensively. "At any rate, what I saw was a girl with fair hair on top of a seawall and the water rising."

"That would be Fionna. There are many tales of Fionna. She was queen not so very long ago, perhaps fifty years. One of our greatest queens, in truth." Hanna paused, looking thoughtful. "The story band must have been about the great flood."

"Do you know the story?"

Hanna gave a look of disdain. "Every Dungalan knows that story."

"Will you tell it to me?" Brie asked humbly.

Hanna slowly lit her pipe. "Fionna was the middle of three sisters; their mother was Queen Ilior. Dungal is traditionally ruled by a queen, though if there is none alive, as now, then a prince may rule. Golden-haired and beautiful, Fionna was the most headstrong of the three sisters. After her elder sister, she was next in line to be queen, but she was little interested in her royal heritage. As a child she was a wild one, always off somewhere getting into mischief. She had a particular fascination with the sea, loved to mess about in boats and was always pestering the fishermen. As is true of most with royal blood, she had draoicht."

"She was a wyll?"

"Not exactly. The royal draoicht is more like that of a Sea Dyak sorcerer."

"All these different kinds of magic; I don't know how you keep track of them all," Brie said with a smile.

Hanna ignored her, intent on her tale. "Fionna was just six years old when the bad rains came. It was during the dark months, and it seemed that it would never stop raining.

"Now, the royal seat, or Sedd, as we call it, lies on the coast. Sedd Brennhin. That part of Dungal, in the center of the country, consists mainly of low-lying flatlands, rich farmland. There is a network of dykes and sluice gates that protect Sedd Brennhin and the nearby town of Mira from high water.

"Fionna loved rain and storms, as she loved all manner of wild things, and no matter the weather she would roam the land and seaside by herself. That was why she was out that day when most were snugged up warm in their houses. The watchman who was supposed to patrol the dyke was asleep in his armchair, his feet soaking in a bucket of warm water, for he had a bad chest cold.

"All around the town of Mira and the royal Sedd the creeks were swollen, and the River Caldew had risen beyond the top of its banks.

"Fionna saw the first crack in the dyke. She watched in fear as the thin web of lines grew thicker and longer. She knew at once there was not time to run for help, and she was frightened. But Fionna remembered a time she had made the earth open up when she wanted to see where a busy mole had gotten to. She wondered if perhaps she could close the crack in the dyke the same way.

"She concentrated very hard and quite soon the crack closed. Her head ached, but she felt very pleased with herself. Then she noticed another crack snaking along the wall farther up. She concentrated again and it worked again, but cracks kept appearing, faster than she could close them. By then her head was pounding until she thought it would burst, like the dam, but she kept all her energies focused on the cracks.