by Edith Pattou
***
The next day as she and Collun labored to rebuild a stone wall separating pasture from crop-producing land, Brie felt edgy, her eyes prickly from lack of sleep. She worked hard, hoping to sweat out her unease. Collun tried several times to start a conversation, but Brie's responses were perfunctory. At midday, Kled came by to share their meal. He offered Brie a cup of peach mead, which she refused with a frown. Kled raised his eyebrows, then turned to Collun.
"You'll never guess what Renin came across this morning," he said, munching on a peach tart.
"What?" asked Collun, trying to coax some damp kindling into a fire for brewing chicory.
"A wyll."
"A what?"
"A wyll. A kind of witch-woman or fortune-teller. Haven't you heard of them? You find them mostly in the north, closer to Dungal. That's where they come from. Dungal."
Dungal was a small kingdom north of Eirren, separated from it by the Blue Stack Mountains, a formidable, almost impassable mountain range that began practically at the Western Sea then swept inland, curving northward until it crossed over into Scath and became the Mountains of Marwol. The mountain range provided a natural boundary between Dungal and Scath as well.
To the people of Eirren, Dungal was a place shrouded in myth. Dungalans were said to have more than a little Ellyl blood running in their veins, and it was not unusual to find at least one person in a village with the ability to perform magic of one kind or another, be it the curing of ills or weather-working. They spoke their own language and worshiped their own gods. Traditionally they were ruled by a queen, but in recent years a prince named Durwydd ruled the small kingdom.
"She's a tiny thing, the wyll; Renin thought her a child when he first came upon her. He found her sheltering in that broken-down dovecote," continued Kled. "She knows all sorts of things you can't figure out how she would. The others are all worked up. Renin has already given her his favorite torque because she told him he was going to marry the girl he fancies back in his birth town. The wyll knew the girl's name and everything. You two ought to come, have your fortunes told."
Brie was skeptical and her head ached with fatigue, but Collun was curious, so they accompanied Kled to the soldiers' quarters in what had once been the dairy barn.
When Brie and Collun entered, the soldiers were listening raptly as the wyll told a story.
She was indeed small and had long coppery gold hair. It was woven into dozens of braids that fell past her waist. Her forehead was broad, unusually broad for such a small face, which—coupled with her large amber eyes—kept her from being beautiful. She wore colorful clothing that seemed to consist of many layers, and bright earrings sparkled at her ears. The wyll took note of the new arrivals, but did not pause in her storytelling. She spoke with a lyrical, accented voice, and Kled whispered that her name was Aelwyn.
Despite her sore head, Brie found herself getting caught up in the story. She wished she had been there from the beginning. Then the wyll fell silent, her story finished. She turned toward Brie. A smile curved her small mouth, and she suddenly spoke in a tongue Brie did not know. At Brie's puzzled look, Aelwyn shifted back to Eirrenian. "Are you not from Dungal?"
Brie shook her head.
"I'm sorry. You have a look about you of home."
"They want their fortunes told, Aelwyn," Kled said. Brie started to demur, but Collun stepped forward. Aelwyn motioned for Collun to sit before her, and she took hold of both his hands, shutting her amber eyes. She was silent for several moments, her wide forehead ridged with concentration.
"I see a long journey. A monstrous creature. Burning pain. But then relief and peace." She paused, then opened her eyes. "You have learned something ill of a blood kin, yet where there was honor before, there will be honor again."
Collun stared at the wyll, his mouth open slightly.
"Didn't I tell you she was a marvel, Collun?" said Kled, breaking the silence.
Brie wondered just how much the soldiers had told the wyll of Collun's history, but she said nothing.
"It's your turn, Brie," said Kled.
"I really don't...," Brie began.
"Come," said Aelwyn with a smile. Reluctantly Brie sat before the wyll, who gathered up her hands. Aelwyn started to close her eyes then seemed to change her mind, opening them. She gazed straight at Brie. The wyll's amber eyes were glittery, like faceted gemstones.
Suddenly a shudder went through Aelwyn, and she tightened her grip on Brie's hands. Her eyes seemed almost to spin, and she began speaking in a rasp, unlike the voice that she'd used with Collun. But she spoke in the language of Dungal.
Brie felt cold, as if an icy hand had clamped on to the nape of her neck. She wanted to withdraw her hands but was mesmerized by the wyll's eyes. The wyll continued to speak, the strange words flowing out of her mouth, almost like a melody.
Finally Aelwyn fell silent. Brie heard one of the soldiers nervously clear his throat.
Aelwyn gently released Brie's hands. She blinked several times, then smiled at the assembled group as if nothing untoward had happened.
There was an awkward silence. Kled muttered to Collun, "Haven't seen her do that before."
Then the soldier Renin said, "So, did you see anything?"
"I did."
"By Amergin, are you going to tell us or not?"
Aelwyn turned her now-still eyes on Brie. "Do you wish to hear what I saw?"
Brie wanted to say no, but it seemed cowardly. Besides, it was all foolishness anyway. She nodded.
"I saw a brave man hewed down in a forest while a girl"—the wyll looked at Brie—"watched."
She could have learned that from the soldiers, Brie thought.
Aelwyn continued. "There were many, but two struck the most, the deepest. A man with broad pale arms holding a black spear, and another, tall with eyes like saffron, part morg. And last, one who led them, with a dark covering over one eye. Evil." The wyll shivered slightly. She stopped speaking.
Brie drew a deep breath. She had told no one what the killers looked like except Collun, and she knew he would never speak of it. "That was in the past," she said, her voice high and stretched thin. "What of the future?"
The wyll's amber eyes widened. "That which you seek lies in Dungal," she said.
Brie's pulse quickened, and the invisible cold hand at the back of her neck tightened its grip. "My father's murderers?" she asked, locking eyes with Aelwyn.
"If that is what you seek."
The wyll adjusted the torque on her arm. "It has been long since a seeing took such hold of me. Do you yourself have draoicht?" Aelwyn asked, curious.
"You mean magic?" Brie gave a short laugh. "Of course not."
Collun spoke up, his hand on his trine. "I carry a stone...?"
Aelwyn shook her head briskly, uninterested in the cailceadon. "No, it is from her." She turned back to Brie. "What is your name?"
"Breo-Saight. Or Brie."
"'Fire arrow...,"' the wyll said thoughtfully. "Listen, there is more." She drew Brie closer and spoke softly into her ear. "Shifting water and earth. Sacred standing stones covered with seabirds. A crippled man. And a man of power. Treachery. I saw hatred, the lust to kill. I saw death." Her breath tickled Brie's ear. "And ... an arrowhead pointed at your own heart."
Abruptly she resumed her normal voice. "There. That is all." She reached up and smoothed a coppery braid. "Now, does someone have a bauble for Aelwyn?" she asked, flashing a catlike smile.
Brie was too dazed to respond. Kled nudged Collun, who had been watching Brie with a worried frown.
Aelwyn crossed to Collun and said in a teasing voice, "Didn't you say something about a stone?"
"Uh, no ... I mean..." He stumbled over his words, reluctantly tearing his gaze from Brie. "That stone is, uh, too precious..." He trailed off.
"Not the cailceadon," laughed the wyll. "I have no interest in so potent a stone. I mean the one in your other pocket."
Puzzled, Collun felt in his pocket and drew out
a chunk of rock he had found while plowing several days ago. It had several large saphir gems embedded in it, and he had thought to dig them out and make a bracelet or hair clasp for Brie.
Kled gave him another nudge, and Collun offered the rock to Aelwyn.
She took the chunk of rock with a look of pleasure, holding it up to the light coming through the dairy door.
Brie had been sitting very still, unaware of the conversation around her. Abruptly she rose, a flash of blue from a saphir banding her cheek as she began to move across the barn.
"Will you go to Dungal?" Aelwyn called after Brie.
Brie paused. "Perhaps," she said, heir voice sounding muffled.
Startled, Collun gave Brie a sharp look.
"Be warned, Breo-Saight," said Aelwyn, rummaging in her colorful layers of clothing for a soft leather pouch. As she slid the rock into the pouch she continued, "Once you go to Dungal, it is not easy to leave."
"You left."
"Because I like pretty, shiny things, and your people will pay well for the skills I have. But the hiraeth, the heartsickness from being away, it is with me all the time, like a knife in the heart. Farewell, Breo-Saight."
"Farewell, Aelwyn," Brie said, and left the barn.
There was a roaring in her ears and her breath came short as she moved away from the barn. Her father's killers. In Dungal. She would have her revenge.
TWO
Dun Slieve
In the room next to Collun's, Brie was stowing her things, in her pack.
Collun entered. She glanced at him, then back at her pack. She did not want a quarrel but could read the mood in his eyes.
"What are you doing, Brie?"
"I am resuming my quest." She spoke tonelessly.
"Because of the words of a wandering fortune-teller with a weakness for shiny things?" His face held disbelief, as well as anger.
"As I recall, you were more than ready to believe in the wyll."
Collun's eyes flamed. "Even if she spoke truly, I cannot believe your blood lust so strong that you do not see the folly of such a quest."
Brie felt her own temper flare up. "I made a vow over my father's body. It is no folly to act with honor."
"It is no honor to seek death over life."
"I seek revenge, not death."
"And how will your revenge"—he said the word as if it were a foul thing—"profit you or your father?"
"Leave me," Brie said, her voice becoming quiet. "Before we say words we wish we had not."
Collun looked away, silent. When he spoke again, there was a stillness about him. He took a step closer, his eyes kindling as if from an overfull heart. "At least wait. Stay here at Cuillean's dun a few days more. Brie, I fear..."
Brie felt a rising panic. She could not hear what Collun was about to say. It frightened her. She closed her pack with a snap of the leather thong. "No."
"But..."
"I am not like you." She looked him full in the face. "I do not fear to act."
Collun whitened, at the words, his expression hurt, but then his jaw hardened and the brightness in his eyes went cold.
There was a long silence. Then Collun spoke. "You have made your choice. I will not journey with you, since it is clear you do not seek the companionship of a coward."
"Collun, I—"
He interrupted, giving her an odd cold salute, his face still transfigured with anger. "May you find what you seek, Brie."
And he was gone.
Brie was in the stable with Ciaran when Kled appeared. He carried something in his hands. "Collun asked that I bring you this," Kled said, holding something out.
Brie took it. It was the wizard Crann's map. Brie caught her breath. The map was one of Collun's most treasured possessions.
"I can't accept this," she said.
"He said that I mustn't bring it back." Kled's eyes were alight with curiosity.
Reluctantly Brie stowed the map in her quiver.
"Please thank him."
"I will. Do you journey forth for vengeance?"
"Yes," she said dully, thinking of the cost. "Kled, watch over Collun."
The young man nodded. "And good luck to you on your quest, Brie."
***
On the evening of the first day of Brie's journey, she spotted a rider heading toward her. As he drew closer, Brie recognized his saddlebags as those of a messenger.
He was a thin young man with a thatch of shiny sienna hair and, like most of the travelers Brie had come upon, he couldn't help gaping at the Ellyl horse. Reluctantly tearing his gaze away from Ciaran, he asked Brie if he was headed in the right direction for Cuillean's dun.
"Yes. I've just come from there. Who do you seek?"
The young man drew a parchment from his saddlebag. "Let's see ... Someone by the name of Breigit."
Brie was about to say she knew no one of that name when she stopped, startled. Breigit was her own childhood name.
"I am Breigit," she said.
***
The letter was from Brie's uncle at Dun Slieve. Masha, the serving woman who had helped run Brie's father's dun for him and was the nearest thing to a mother Brie had, was dying. Her uncle requested that Brie come at once. Masha was asking for her.
Masha. Brie realized with a pang of guilt that it had been some time since she had thought of the silent, gaunt woman. Masha had been wet nurse to Brie after Aideen, Brie's mother, died in childbirth. Masha had been with child at the same time as Aideen, but the serving woman's baby had been stillborn. Masha had been doubly laden with grief when, shortly after, her husband died in a hunting accident. As Brie was motherless and Masha childless, they were paired. When she recovered from childbirth, Masha put on her black clothes and became silent, though she watched over Brie diligently. The girl knew Masha was always there, solid and silent as a stone, but hard, too, with little in her of affection or laughter.
In the letter, Uncle Amrys said the sickness had come on Masha suddenly, and no manner of treatment had helped.
Brie felt a spasm of impatience. She did not want to delay her quest. Then she was suddenly uneasy. Was Collun indeed right? Was this thing, this hatred, poisoning her? Of course she must go to Masha.
Bidding the messenger farewell, Brie urged the Ellyl horse into a brisk trot. "Well, I guess we're going home, Ciaran."
At least, she thought with another pang of guilt, she would not be drawn far off course. Dun Slieve lay on the same northern road she had chosen to travel to Dungal.
***
When the fortifications of Dun Slieve came into sight, Brie felt a mixture of pleasure and apprehension. She knew that her aunt and uncle disapproved of her and felt that roaming the countryside was ill-befitting a highborn maiden of Eirren. Brie no longer affected the appearance of a boy, at least, having let her hair grow and return to its natural golden color, instead of staining it with black walnut leaves as she had before. She did, however, still wear breeches, finding them more comfortable than dresses.
After Conall's death, Brie's uncle Amrys had taken over Dun Slieve. Amrys and his wife, Rainne, had urged Brie to stay and make her home with them, but Brie had refused, explaining that she would have no ease until her father's murderers were dead. Periodically she had sent word through messengers to her aunt and uncle, letting them know she was well.
She could see the dun now, rising above the trees. She felt a twisting in her stomach at the sight of it.
Brie's had not been a happy childhood. She had lost her mother at birth and had been raised by a father who would have preferred a son. But here she was, and it was an odd feeling to be once more at the entrance to the home where she had grown from infant to girl. She guided Ciaran to the gate.
Brie was met by one of her uncle's serving men, who escorted her to her aunt. Rainne gave Brie a quick, affectionate hug, then hurried her along to Masha's room. "She's been asking for you, every day."
"What happened?" Brie asked her aunt as they strode through the halls.
"It was sudden. I found her lying on the floor of her room, clutching at her stomach and throat, in terrible pain. I thought she was dying. I got her to bed and called the healer.
"He worked over her and the crisis seemed to pass, but instead of healing, every day she seems to get a little worse. She does not speak—at least not in words we understand. Except your name, which she calls out insistently." Aunt Rainne opened the door to Masha's room, letting Brie go in ahead of her.
Masha's face had always been thin, but now, as she gazed down at it, Brie felt if she were to lay the palm of her hand over it, the whole of Masha's face would be covered. All of her body was shrunken, caved in on itself.
Masha's eyes burned bright in the wasted face. They stared up at Brie.
Not knowing if Masha was aware of her or not, Brie took the woman's emaciated hand in hers. Masha's eyes suddenly closed and she appeared to drift into sleep, a look almost of relief on her face.
Leaving Masha in peace, Aunt Rainne showed Brie to her old room. It felt strange to Brie: small and lifeless. And suffocating. As Rainne bustled about, stripping the bed of musty linens and calling to a serving maid for fresh, Brie crossed to the small window and pulled aside the tapestry. She wondered with a grin what her aunt and uncle would think if she slept in the dun gardens.
***
"What does the healer say? Can he not discover the cause of Masha's sickness?" Brie asked as they sat down to dinner.
Aunt Rainne shook her head. "I fear he is not as experienced as he might be."
"How long does he think she has to live?"
"He is surprised she is still alive at all," answered Aunt Rainne. "I wondered if she was waiting for you."
"Rainne has it in her head Masha has something to tell you," said Brie's uncle, "although it seems highly unlikely to me." He cleared his throat. "Now, Breigit, you have been away from Dun Slieve for a long time, and I hope now that you have returned you will settle in and make your home here. I fear your education has been sorely neglected, and I should be happy to take on the task of tutoring you in the many..."
