The Unicorn Hunter (22 page)

‘You're waiting for your wife, aren't you?' piped up Roisin. ‘Wait, let me think … I remember the story.' Finn frowned and Fachtna looked as if she would happily strangle Roisin. ‘You went hunting and Bran found a fawn that turned into a woman when you took her back to your castle. You married her, but one day when you were away fighting she was lured outside and
turned into a fawn again, and you have been looking for her ever since. Is that right?'

Finn's face darkened. ‘My wife, a faerie woman herself. Cursed to live as a fawn by a Tuatha de Dannan, because she refused to love him,' he growled. ‘But Bran knew her to be a woman in animal form and she will know her again. My wife is alive still, and Bran is the only dog that I can trust to bring her to me without a scratch on her. So we wait and we throw our thoughts out to her. The women of my court weep for her endlessly, shedding the tears that I cannot, and she will find her way back to us one day.'

Danny spoke up. ‘There are millions of lives depending on us finding the unicorn mare and we need Bran to do it,' he said. ‘Are you going to sacrifice all those lives for one woman?'

‘Yes,' said Finn, stroking Bran's head.

‘How can you sit and do nothing?' asked Danny. ‘I've heard the stories about you. You were the King Arthur of the Irish! The Finn mac Cumhaill I read about would never have turned his back on millions of people and left them to die.'

Finn mac Cumhaill fixed him with his dark gaze and Danny took an involuntary step backwards. ‘I was like you once, boy,' he said. ‘I gloried in the fight and I stained the ground with the blood of my enemies. I
basked in the love of my men and my wife and my child. I felt strong and alive and as if the world was mine.' He looked now at Fachtna. ‘Then faeries took my wife and lured away my son to their lands and to his death and all was darkness. There was no more laughter, no more joy in the midst of battle, no taste in food and drink. I died in my heart long before my story brought me here and I live now only to set eyes on my love once more. The mortal world is but a faded memory; I have not shared its concerns for centuries. I wait for my love to return, and Bran and my court wait with me. That is all we live for now. I will not give her up for even a second.'

Danny looked over at Maddy and widened his eyes. She knew what he was thinking. She frowned. Yet hadn't Granda made the same decision over her? Didn't he love her enough to be as monstrously selfish as Finn and hadn't it made her glad, made her ignore the cost? Finn had been waiting here for centuries for the chance to see his wife again. Maybe he was mad. Maybe waiting and hoping for so long with no end in sight would send you a bit bonkers. She looked at the weeping women, whose tears seem to streak down their faces of their own accord. They did not sob or sigh but simply sat there limp and hopeless as their eyes leaked. Maddy shuddered. It seemed that Finn mac Cumhaill had manipulated the magic of Tír na nÓg to make these women grieve every
second of their long existence as a tribute to his missing wife. She could only imagine what it must feel like to be weighed down by another's grief and forced to suffer it.

‘But the mist also tells me you bring the Hound,' said Finn. ‘Yet all I see is a skinny, bruised and battered girl, hardly able to walk with the size of the sword she carries.' Maddy held her breath as his gaze settled on her.

‘What of it?' asked Fachtna.

‘If we had the Hound here, then her blood would call every faerie in the land, every creature under an enchantment, to this castle,' said Finn. ‘You can taste the way the air crackles around her. They won't be able to resist, and perhaps my love might be one of them. If I had the Hound, I would surely see her again.'

‘Um, hang on a second …' said Maddy.

‘You cannot have her,' said Fachtna.

Finn stood up and flexed his shoulders, his sword in one hand. ‘You are in my stronghold, faerie,' he said as he walked down the steps of the dais toward them. ‘And I say I can.'

Maddy took a step back as Fachtna drew her own sword. ‘You abuse your rights as a host,' she said. ‘This child's destiny does not lie with you.'

Finn grinned at her. And then he charged.

Fachtna dashed forward to meet him and their
swords rang out as they clashed. Finn was a big bear of a man but Fachtna easily topped his height by a foot, giving her sword arm a longer reach. Maddy realized how much Fachtna had been holding back when she had mock-fought with her. The faerie moved so fast it was impossible to follow what her hands were doing. She blocked, parried and stabbed at lightning speed, shifting her weight like a dancer, even bending over backwards until her hair touched the floor at one point to duck a wild swing from Finn that would have taken her head off. She was toying with the man, fighting him with a sword and a dagger, getting close enough to leave teasing nicks all over his body that stained his clothes with blood, but never deep enough to really cause him harm. His face flushed – by refusing to inflict a serious wound every time she got the chance Fachtna was embarrassing him, showing Finn's men she did not think him enough of a threat to finish him quickly.

But of more immediate concern to Maddy and her cousins was the fact that the rest of the Fianna, who up until then had been doing a really good imitation of zombies, were choosing this moment to take a renewed interest in life. As Fachtna and Finn battled each other along the length of the hall, they got up from their benches and began to sidle toward Maddy, fingering their sword hilts as they did so. More men were creeping
in through the double doors at their back, and Fachtna wouldn't be able to handle them all.

Maddy drew her sword and pointed it toward the ground, keeping it loose and relaxed in her fingers, the way the faerie had shown her.

‘I think we should stand with our backs to each other,' she said, as Fenris and Nero peeled their black lips back from their teeth in a full-throated snarl at the men, who had begun to close in around them.

‘I really hope that lesson Fachtna gave you was a good one,' said Roisin as George struggled free of her jacket and leaped down to join the wolves, stiff-legged with aggression.

‘We're about to find out,' said Maddy.

‘Touch the Hound and I'll rip your throat out,' said Fenris to one of the warriors, who had got too close. The man jumped back with surprise as he realized the wolf could talk. Fenris snapped his teeth menacingly as Nero crouched to leap. ‘I'm eager to find out if there is still blood in the Fianna veins,' the black wolf growled. A loud boom ripped through the hall, the force of it lifting everyone off their feet and throwing them to the ground. Maddy lay stunned, her ears ringing, and then she heard a faint crackling overhead as lightning stabbed down from the rafters and shattered the long tables, filling the air with splinters. She climbed to her feet and watched
as men staggered around, some with blood leaking from their ears. She could make out their shouts and cries faintly over the ringing in her own ears and she could see Danny and Roisin mouthing something at her. Roisin pointed and Maddy turned to look past Finn and Fachtna, who were getting to their feet, weapons still clutched tight, with a bemused expression on their faces, to the throne at the far end of the hall.

Meabh sat on Finn's throne, her hair puddling around her feet and her ruby crown glowing on her brow. In her lap she held a struggling fawn, which twisted and turned in her hands, its beseeching eyes looking for Finn. The Pooka lay at her feet and her storm hags guarded the back of the throne. The weeping women had been scattered by the blast and they lay unconscious, their eternal tears still welling up beneath closed eyelids to streak down their dusty cheeks.

Meabh locked one arm around the fawn and snapped the fingers of her free hand. The ringing in Maddy's ears stopped and she could hear every sound in the hall clearly.

‘My wife …' said Finn, taking a step toward the throne. ‘Is it really …?'

Meabh looked down at the fawn in her lap as it bleated piteously. ‘Is it? I don't really know. I just saw it on my way here and thought how sweet it looked.' She
threw a sly glance at Finn. ‘But I could cut its throat and see if it changes into your lovely wife once it's dead?'

‘NO!' cried Finn. ‘I beg you …'

‘You beg me?' said Meabh, all pretence at good humour gone from her face, which twisted in anger. ‘Then give me what I WANT!' she screeched.

‘I will not deal with your kind,' said Finn, raising his chin in defiance. ‘Especially with you, Meabh, the wellspring of all my sorrows.'

‘Fool!' spat Meabh. ‘There is nothing more unreasonable than a hero who refuses to live
or
die. Fine – sit here and twiddle your thumbs while the worlds burn, but your fortress will burn with them as will your wife. In fact, that sounds rather cruel. Perhaps I will do you a kindness and put your wife out of her misery once and for all …'

Finn trembled as he stared at the fawn. ‘No!' he said.

‘Then give Bran to the Hound for as long as she needs her,' said Meabh. ‘She will be returned to you, you have my word.'

‘Your word means nothing!' said Finn.

‘Now, that isn't true and you know it,' said Meabh. ‘I cannot lie. You, on the other hand, can. So give Bran to the Hound and you can pretend I was never here. Soothe your delicate conscience by telling yourself you never helped the Tuatha, only the mortals. Think on it, mac
Cumhaill. If your answer is to condemn us all to death, then I will make sure this fawn is the first to die.' She tightened her grip on the throat of the little deer, which squealed and kicked in terror.

‘I yield, I yield!' shouted Finn. ‘Peace, Queen Meabh. I will give you what you desire.'

Meabh narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Bran goes with the Hound?'

‘Yes, yes,' said Finn, his eyes still fixed on the fawn. ‘Anything.'

Meabh smiled beatifically. ‘See how easy that was?' She glared at Fachtna. ‘I don't see why you couldn't have handled this without me.' Fachtna lowered her eyes. ‘The whole point of sending the Hound was so that I didn't have to do this myself. Do you know how revolting it is to walk through that mist with all those filthy souls trying to touch me?'

‘Please,' said Finn, stretching his arms out to the throne. ‘Give me the fawn.'

Meabh looked down at the little creature, which lay silent now, trembling with fear in her lap. ‘I think not, mac Cumhaill. I will keep this one as surety for your good behaviour. Don't let her down.' There was a crack of thunder and Meabh, the fawn and her escort disappeared.

You could have heard a pin drop in the silence Meabh
left behind. Finn refused to look at Maddy, his shoulders slumped and dejected. He looked like a beaten man.

A Fianna stepped forward. ‘Do you have something that will give Bran a scent of the unicorn mare?'

Maddy dug around in her pocket and pulled out the handful of mane that Meabh had given her. It shone bright as a fallen star in the palm of her hand.

It took a while for the Fianna to saddle up ready to move out. Maddy, Roisin and Danny were left to fidget and worry in the great hall while all around them the stronghold of Finn mac Cumhaill burst into life.

‘Can they even leave this place?' she asked a brooding Fachtna, who sat sharpening her sword blade with a stone.

‘I think they could go anywhere they liked, if they wanted to,' said Fachtna. ‘But they sit here, wrapped in Finn's despair, and they sink into its mire.'

‘He's only helping us because he's frightened,' said Roisin.

‘If it quickens his blood and helps him to remember that he is a man, what harm?' said Fachtna.

‘Will he get his wife back, for helping us?' asked Maddy.

Fachtna let out a bark of laughter. ‘She hasn't been seen for centuries.'

‘So that deer wasn't her?' asked Danny.

‘Meabh good as said she wasn't, and faeries can't lie, remember?' said Fachtna. ‘It was Finn that wanted to believe it was her. He tricked himself.'

They all fell silent at that. Roisin sent a glare Maddy's way as if to say,
Can't you see what they're like?

Maddy did see. It didn't exactly give her a warm, fuzzy feeling inside to exploit a man's grief and pain, but she needed Bran. A lot of people were depending on her getting that dog.

The mist parted before them as they rode out of Finn's stronghold. The Fianna had offered to let them all ride pillion, but Maddy, Danny and Roisin preferred to walk until they got back to the white horses Meabh had lent them. None of them mentioned it, but Maddy guessed her cousins were as uncomfortable as she was at getting too close to men that seemed like ghosts.

Fachtna had protested when Finn had made it clear that he and the Fianna were going with them.

‘This is Tuatha business,' she had said. ‘We need no interference.'

‘While Bran is this side of the mound, I will stay with her,' said Finn.

‘That was not your agreement,' Fachtna objected.

‘I only agreed to let you use Bran, faerie,' Finn warned. ‘I did not say I would not stay near her. Besides, you might need the help when you find whatever is hunting these unicorns. You would certainly be foolish to refuse it.'

Walking among the Fianna and listening to the weeping and wailing in the mist, Maddy was glad Fachtna had finally given in. As the mist parted ahead of Finn mac Cumhaill to give him and his men a clear route to the sun-bathed lands of Tír na nÓg, it was obvious he was still a force to be reckoned with. With the mist pressing around them and above them and the whispering voices brushing against her ears, it took all of Maddy's willpower not to run toward the sunlight that glowed at the end of the tunnel created by the movement of the Fianna. Wispy shreds of the mist seemed to reach out and touch the hem of mac Cumhaill's cloak, but he rode with his eyes fixed straight ahead and did not seem to notice the souls that paid him fealty. Maddy did, and she shrank close to the Fianna who rode next to her and was grateful for the warm smell of horse and the creak of leather. The man looked down at her and chuckled. It could be her imagination, but she thought the Fianna were getting a bit of colour in their faces and some spark in their eyes as they left the mist. Finn mac Cumhaill
was a brooding hunched figure alone on his horse though.