Fire Arrow (29 page)

The army circled east, away from the coast, and arrived at the far edge of the forest while the sun still shone, though because the days were getting longer it was well past time for the evening meal. Quickly they set up camp and Brie sent scouts ahead. When they returned they reported that it was just as Brie had seen: Beyond the forest lay the gabha encampment, which stretched to the east and north of the fortress Sedd Wydyr. The scouts said there were no sentries and no gabha scouting parties. Brie nodded, unsurprised. Though she believed Balor was now aware that she had escaped the bell tower, he clearly could not conceive of her being able to mount any kind of threat to him and his plans—not, at least, in such a short time.

Or maybe he could. The thought chilled her. Perhaps he knew of their presence here in the shadow of the forest, and cared not.

***

That night, after all had eaten, Brie spoke to the army. She laid out the battle plan that she, Collun, Lom, and Hanna had come up with. The company listened soberly. Lom went on to explain in greater detail, and, when he was done, the Dungalans dispersed to make a last check of their gear and to snatch what rest they could. Lom moved among them, checking a bowstring here, the sharpness of a blade there.

Silien still slept, while Hanna had recovered sufficiently to sit up, though she blew her nose frequently and drank great quantities of a healing borage tea Collun had brewed for her.

Monodnock sidled up to Brie as she was checking over her own weapons. "Excuse me, fair lady," he said, his voice ingratiating, "but I wonder if you have given some thought to Prince Silien? It seems to me you will need someone to stay here and watch over him as he sleeps. And much as it pains me to miss even a moment of the glorious battle, I would be willing to volunteer for the assignment; indeed, as a fellow Ellyl, I feel it is my honor-bound duty:"

"You are too generous," Brie said dryly. "But perhaps...," she began, thinking to herself it would be better if the Ellyl was kept out of the way during battle.

"That will not be necessary after all, Monodnock," came Silien's voice, "though your offer to sacrifice yourself is most admirable." When he saw Silien standing next to them, awake and alert, Monodnock staggered slightly, clutching at Brie's arm.

"But surely, Prince, you are not up to...," Monodnock stuttered. Stark terror moved across his pale face, and one hand began whipping his orange hair into a forest of spikes.

"When do we face the gabha?" said Silien to Brie, pointedly ignoring Monodnock, who let out a small whimper and quickly withdrew.

"You mustn't tease him," said Brie.

"I shall try to refrain," Silien replied with a slight bow. "As to the battle ahead, I regret having to tell you that my draoicht is inadequate; indeed, I would even say that, for the time being, the fire rain has completely depleted it. However, my sword arm, for what it's worth, is yours."

"We are indebted to you, Silien," Brie responded, "for what you have already done for us and for what you offer now." And she thought back to the Silien who in the old days would not have put himself into any kind of danger for a human. Impulsively, she leaned over and hugged him. Silien looked a little startled, but smiled his half smile.

***

As Brie worked on making more arrows for her quiver, Hanna told her that Sago now seemed alarmingly incoherent—more addled than she had ever known him to be. So, after filling her quiver, Brie went in search of the Sea Dyak sorcerer. She found him sitting cross-legged against a small willow tree. He looked as ethereal and wraithlike as ever, but, surprisingly, his eyes were alert and he seemed quite peaceful.

He gestured for her to sit beside him. "Tomorrow we hunt together again, yes?"

Sago
was
different, Brie thought, but he was not as Hanna had described. Rather, there was an eerie sort of saneness about him. She noticed he had with him the scrap, of fishing net he had been working on throughout the journey, but his fingers were still.

"Brie?"

The girl jumped slightly. She had been so startled by this new, placid Sago, she had forgotten he had asked her a question.

"Well, I would not call it a hunt exactly," Brie replied dryly, thinking of the army camped beside the crystal castle. "But, Sago, I think perhaps it would be best if you stayed here at camp during..."

"The fish is larger, perhaps," the sorcerer said, ignoring her words, "but not so very different. To fight the enemy, then perchance to sleep," Sago intoned, then smiled peacefully, tracing with his fingers the loops of his small net.

"But, Sago..." Brie tried again.

The sorcerer continued to speak, still smiling, a dreamy look in his eyes. "Do you know how I anticipate the after-place will be? Indeed, I am quite sure of it. A large lake, with a blanket of comforting, muffling clouds above, the very lightest of breezes. Ideal fishing weather, of course; fish will be jumping—gray, silver, speckled. Then a small boat, the image of Gor-gwynt, and a supple pole at hand..." A blissful smile played around his mouth.

The place Sago described was more real to him than the forest around them, Brie thought. His weird calmness suddenly frightened her much more than his riddling
songs
and flights of fancy had ever done. She felt a stab of alarm.

"By the by," the sorcerer continued, his tone suddenly confiding. "There is a boy in the village of Mira, a fishing enthusiast like myself, with unusual fingernails... thumbs to be precise. You catch my meaning, I hope." Brie stared at Sago. "His name is Thom. He lives with his mother, near the sea. You will find him, or the Traveler will." He rummaged in his amhantar. "Ah ... and this is for you." He held out his hand, then opened it with a mysterious smile, like a conjurer. In his palm lay the moon shell. "Remember what I told you about moon shells?" he asked, eyes twinkling.

Though she was still uneasy, Brie managed a smile and, nodding, replied, "That you can never have too many." She reached out and took the shell. She put it in a pocket of her tunic. "Thank you, Sago."

"Now," said the sorcerer, "I think I will have a spot of sleep. And you shall see; tomorrow this old sorcerer may still have a few fireworks up his raveled sleeve." He stood, gave Brie a wink, and then disappeared into the darkness.

***

Brie lay down, sure that she would not sleep. But she came awake with a start, the taste of stale cyffroi in her mouth. Dawn was almost an hour away, she guessed. She stood, stretching, and sniffed the air. An odd, thick-fingered fog had come up, shrouding their camp, but she could see figures moving about, preparing for the day ahead.

Collun had brewed a pan of chicory, saying if it was all the same to her he'd rather have it than cyffroi on this particular morning. As they sat together, sharing the chicory, Brie was reminded of another early morning, off the Isle of Thule. In preparation for meeting the Firewurme, Collun had layered himself with padding from head to toe to protect against the corrosive slime that came off the creature's body. He had looked lumpy and faintly absurd, but the padding had saved his life.

Collun was different now: older, leaner, and taller. And the sword lying across his knees, that was new for him. He was peering down, at some indecipherable hatch marks on the flat of the blade. Then he glanced up at her and smiled, and Brie's heart did a quick flutter kick. Nerves, she thought, blushing slightly. She stood.

"Shall we to battle?" Her voice was over loud.

"After you," Collun said politely. He also rose and somehow they managed to bump into each other.

"Sorry," they both mumbled, stepping apart.

"Brie," Collun began.

She turned to him, nervous.

"Well, uh, good luck," he said, giving her an awkward pat on the back.

"And you," she replied stiffly, her heart still making that odd flipping movement. She turned away abruptly and adjusted her bow.

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.