“There’s a man at the gate who says that he must talk to Bard Cricket, my lord, a man who is most insistent.”
Cricket’s suddenly felt his stomach go hollow. “Who is it?”
“Chieftain Kai, my lord.”
Mannath and Cricket met the chieftain at the gate, and were surprised to see most of the dun with him. Their feet were wrapped in rags, and their clothes hung on wasted frames. “What happened?”
“The queen leveled the dun,” Kai said. His eyes had a certain steel that Cricket had not seen before.
“But why? What did she hope to accomplish?”
“She wants you!” Agnes said.
Kai nodded. “She said that our homes would be rebuilt, and our land restored once you had been executed as a traitor to the country. But we don’t believe her.”
“Why not?”
Brother Eochaid shifted his grip on the small girl he carried. “Because she sent us across the country, with no food and no help. Anyone who does that is not going to just make everything the way it was before.”
“She didn’t even let us take a wagon for the children,” Golias spat. “She’s got no honor.”
Mannath turned to Asaph. “Get these people food,” he said. “Do we have any room for them in the Caer?”
“Not really, lord.”
“Can we find a barn, or something nearby? They need to rest.”
“I’ll get Essa,” the steward said with a smile. “We’ll work something out.”
“Thank you, Lord Dyfed,” Kai said.
Cricket put a hand on the chieftain’s shoulder. “Just tell me: how many have you lost?”
“Three during the attack. Another ten during our travels.” He looked at the ground with a heaving sigh. “We should have fought, but it happened so fast.”
“You will get a chance,” Mannath promised. “We are going to war. The only thing left to decide is when.”
Cricket opened his mouth to protest, but finally just nodded.
More refugees arrived after that, mostly from poor duns and small caers that the queen had razed. Kai organized them, working with Essa and Asaph to get them fed and sheltered. “Why is the queen doing this?” Cricket demanded one afternoon. He walked along with the chieftain on one side and CuChulainn on the other.
“She has two goals, I think,” Kai answered. “One, she wants to drain our resources, and two, she wants us to be so angry that we start making mistakes. Either way, she gets us moving out of Dyfed, just as Brigit expected.”
Cricket looked at the young man sideways. “You are learning the ways of war awfully fast.”
Kai nodded absently. “Brigit is a good teacher.”
Cricket had heard the stories of Brigit’s training: hardened warriors often collapsed by noon, before Brigit had even broken a sweat. True to her word, she responded by demanding more, and the many of them rose to the challenge.
But Kai was something else again. Within two days, he had the stamina to keep up with the faerie woman all day, and his skill with the sword and the spear grew almost as fast. Brigit even praised him, and yet he swore he had never touched a weapon before except to hunt; he seemed as surprised as anyone about his abilities. Cricket probed him gently with both magic and words, but the chieftain knew nothing about how special he was.
Not all of the arrivals saddened Cricket. One afternoon, as Cricket worked with the bards outside the caer, the sound of a fiddle and a woman singing interrupted him. Turning around, he spied his two dearest friends, and with a whoop of joy, he ran to meet them with CuChulainn following closely.
Everyone talked at once for a moment, hugging and dancing together, while the wolfhound sniffed around their ankles. “What are you doing here?” Cricket demanded.
“Lord Elnsbruck has brought almost the entire caer,” Asael answered proudly. “As soon as he heard that song you spread, nothing would stop him.” Looking at his friend’s shining hands, he added, “It seems that there’s even more to the story now.”
“And you will hear it all, I promise,” Cricket said.
“How’s Serca?” Leann asked.
“Fine, just fine,” Cricket said. “See? She’s over there working with the other bards.”
“Are you married yet?”
“Well...”
Essa came up just then and slipped her arm around her husband’s waist. “I heard you had company, my love.”
“You’ve heard my stories of Asael and Leann.”
“This is them?”
“Truly.” Cricket took a deep breath and said, “And this is my wife, Essa.”
Asael and Leann greeted her warmly, and they talked together for a few moments before Cricket said, “Now, before my lovely wife says something about my lack of hospitality, I must invite you inside where we can all be more comfortable.”
“Sounds good,” Asael said.
His wife elbowed him. “What about the children? We can’t leave them with Naussa all day.”
“How many do you have now?” Cricket asked.
“Four,” Asael answered with pride. “Dyvan, Diedre, Coinche, and Seamus. How about you?”
“Three,” Cricket said smugly. “Four, if you count this great shaggy beast. His name is CuChulainn.”
“You’ve been busy.”
“I doubt that he did all of the work,” Leann said.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Essa said. “The first two were twins.”
“That must have been rough,” Leann said sympathetically.
“It wasn’t too bad,” she replied. “At least, not until they were both two, and then with a new baby...”
The two men shared a glance, and simply steered their wives towards the caer, talking all the way.
Throughout it all, Cricket tried to spend as much time with his family as possible, but Essa’s talents had finally been recognized, and she had thousands of details to work out in order to procure food and tents, clothes and blankets. The twins had Asael and Leann’s children (their “cousins”) to play with, and a fascinating array of new experiences to discover. Emmeline, although quiet and calm, was not welcome in the frequent planning sessions that Mannath and the other leaders wanted Cricket to attend. Between trying to train the bards and help form a plan of attack, he could feel the tension inside his stomach like a spring. One afternoon, after an endless round of councils and questions, he managed to break away from everyone and retreat to his rooms with only CuChulainn for company, where he sat and played Brenlyn for himself for a change. He really wanted to spend some time with Essa, but he hadn’t been able to find her, so he shaped a song that reminded him of her freckles and her smile. Just as the music began to relax him, Asaph knocked on the door.
“Bard Cricket, you are needed—”
“I am not.”
“But Mannath needs to know—”
“Does it involve the Bardic code? Or music in any way?”
“No, but he said that only you—”
“He can figure it out himself.” The song under his silver fingers took on a menacing tone.
Asaph’s eyes widened, and he quickly ducked out of the room. Cricket sighed in relief, and settled back to continue playing. He was working on a new melody when Brigit stormed in. “I’ve been lenient with you long enough, but it’s time for you to start attending sword practice.”
Cricket felt the notes evaporate, and he looked at the warrior woman. “It is not,” he said. “I am a bard.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but something in his face made her check herself. “Well, if you lose your harp, don’t blame me when you can’t defend yourself,” she muttered on her way out.
Not ten minutes later, another knock sounded, and Lord Dyfed walked in. “I know you wanted a break, but there’s a situation that needs your attention.”
Cricket did not stop playing. “Someone else can handle it.”
“We want your opinion, though.”
The sub-harmonies suddenly clicked in his mind, and Cricke
t stood up, still playing. “Mannath, I am a bard, and I know my part in this war.” The power flowed easily, and Cricket could see the bridge form right under the unknowing nobleman. “I must have time to practice my skills, else when the time comes, I will not be prepared.” He put one foot on the glowing span, and the caer began to dissolve around him. He thought he heard CuChulainn whine, so he expanded his magic to include the dog. As they passed through the pale, he said, “I will be back later tonight. I promise.”
Cricket found himself on the crest of a low hill, overlooking an endless plain of waist high grass. A herd of large black animals, like oxen with curly hair, grazed contentedly nearby; a few looked up at the sound of harp music, but soon lowered their heads after dismissing the small bard as unthreatening. CuChulainn growled at the beasts for a moment, but then dismissed them as unimportant, and began exploring, nose to the ground. Cricket saw nothing else except for a few buzzing grasshoppers.
The sky had a pale cast to it that did not feel like either faerie or Annwn, and he wondered suddenly where he might have ended up. He widened his perceptions, but could not find the end of the rolling grasslands, or any evidence of people. The afternoon sun warmed him, and the dusty smell of summer filled his head. Sighing, he sat down and concentrated on his music. CuChulainn soon laid down beside him.
For two hours he reveled in the music, and the peace it brought him. He wrote a love song for Essa and a lullaby for Gerralt, enjoying the familiar challenge of simply putting the notes together. Despite what he had told Mannath, he did not use any magic, preferring just to enjoy each note as it came.
Cricket put a hand on CuChulainn when he felt the pale begin to shift, preparing for the appearance of someone, but who actually materialized surprised him. “Welcome, Dagda,” he said.
The huge man leaned on his rowan staff. “They sent me to find you.”
“I expected someone from faerie, but why did you come?”
“Your wife actually requested that I be the one.”
“You know Essa?”
The Dagda shook his shaggy head. “Not really. I only met her once, when you got your silver hands.” He sighed and sat down on the other side of CuChulainn. The dog gave him a cursory inspection, then settled back into his nap. “I don’t know why she picked me. I’m mostly just a warrior, and even then, I don’t have the subtlety of someone like Brigit.”
Cricket smiled. “My wife is a very wise woman, especially when it comes to me. I’m sure she had her reasons.”
The Dagda grunted, and stared out across the prairie. “I’ve always loved this world. I come here sometimes when I want to be alone, like you did. But I don’t just sit. I like to hunt the bison.”
“Like you said, I just wanted to be alone.”
The big man did not say anything, but just sat and tugged at his beard occasionally, listening to Cricket’s music. “You play well,” he said after a while.
“Thank you.” Cricket stilled the strings and said, “It’s time to go back now, isn’t it?”
“We all have our responsibilities. Truth be told, I avoid mine more than I should.”
“Really? In the stories I’ve heard about you, you always seem so eager to tackle the impossible.”
The Dagda reached under his beard and scratched his chest. “Not really eager,” he said. “More like dragged into it kicking and screaming. And Oengus isn’t above fooling me into to doing something I don’t want to do, either.”
“I keep finding out things about faerie that force me to think about you in a new way,” Cricket said.
“Well, since you’ve learned how to bridge the worlds, perhaps you will be the first human to get to know us.”
“If I survive.”
“That’s what you’re worried about, isn’t it?”
Cricket touched a silver string with a silver fingernail. “I’m worried about losing this war, yes. I don’t want this all to be for nothing.”
“You know, Gwydion was like that somewhat, too.”
“He was?”
The Dagda nodded. “Oh, yes. He scowled and sweated, always concerned that everything he ever loved would be destroyed.”
“I wish I had known him. I could use a mentor.”
The Faerie champion shrugged. “You seem to be doing pretty good so far.”
“But will we win?”
“There’s only one way to find that out.”
Cricket crossed the pale to find Essa waiting for him. “Welcome back,” she said, laying aside her book.
“It’s good to be home, my love,” Cricket said as CuChulainn disappeared into one of the other rooms. “But I shouldn’t have left, should I?”
Essa stood up and put her arms around his neck. “All I ask,” she said, “Is that you take me with you next time.”
“I promise.” He held her tightly for awhile, and then kissed her deeply. “Where are the children?” he asked casually while his heart raced.
“With Asael and Leann, of course.”
“And nobody knows I’m back?”
“I told them I would let them know.”
He smiled. “So if I don’t let you go...”
“No one will be the wiser.” She pulled him into a deep kiss.
When he could breathe again, he said, “I don’t think I’m ever going to let go of you.”
“Good.”
Chapter 29: Battle
Two and a half weeks after Cricket’s return, the army was formed and ready to move. The scouts reported that Elhonna’s army was camped in Glyn Rhosyn, and seemed to have been for some time. Kai shook his head at the news. “She’s waiting for us, planning something.”
Looking over the lines of chariots and kerns one last time, Mannath grunted. “We don’t have much choice. Drawing her out to another location would mean going through the mountains on one side and the marshes on the other. Or going all the way around and trying to catch her from behind. Any way, she’s going to exhaust us if we don’t meet her where she wants. I’m just glad that it’s still within Cairnecht.”
“I just don’t like it, that’s all.” Kai stepped into his chariot and gripped the reins. “But as you said, we don’t have much choice. So let’s go.”
Glyn Rhosyn dipped into a green bowl between two low mountains. The Dyfedian army arrived late in the afternoon on the south ridge, and began forming up into ranks, but the Queen’s forces seemed content to wait, so Mannath gave the order to make camp. After Brother Aled, Brother Eochaid, and the other priests blessed the army and prayed, Cricket wandered off to a nearby dell by himself. He played soft songs of peace until the sun went down, and then tossed and turned in his bedroll all night, thinking of his family back in Caer Arberth.
Cricket met with the bards one last time before the dawn. “I’m going to be going after Elhonna and Ewan, but I want everyone to be careful out there. We don’t know what those two have taught the others.”
Most just nodded, but Serca said, “Feeling a little nervous?”
“Of course. Aren’t you?”
She shrugged. “It will be different. And I do like to try different things.”
Cricket shook his head. “I think this will be the worst thing you’ve ever been through.”
“Then the rest of my life will be pretty good, won’t it?”
Emerain said, “Would you two shut up already? Some of us aren’t up to being so glib right now.”
“I’m sorry, ollave,” Serca said. “I guess I’m nervous, too.”
“Well, go be nervous somewhere else. I want to warm up a little.”
Many took the cue and began to disperse, checking strings and tuning as they went, although a few groups remained, talking quietly. Serca followed Cricket, and touched his shoulder. “Luck,” she said.
“You too.” He gave her a lopsided grin. “You know I would have left you back at Caer Arberth with Essa and Leann if I thought you would stay.”
“You would have left everybody behind,” she answered easily. She looked a
cross the valley, and gestured at the enemy army becoming visible as the sun rose. “But I don’t think the queen would be here without a single one of them.”
“I suppose not.” Cricket stared at the tent flying the queen’s banner. “I’m just scared for everyone, I guess.”
“I know.” She quickly kissed him on the cheek, and then hurried off.
From behind him, Cricket heard a familiar voice say, “I’m telling Essa when we get back.”
He started to make a smart reply, but when he saw all the armor that Asael was wearing, he choked on his words. “You look silly,” he finally managed.
Asael shifted his grip on his spear and said, “I think I look very noble.” Shrugging his shoulders, he added, “This mail is going to get pretty uncomfortable pretty fast, though.”
“I still think you should be with the bards.”
“If I had more than a fortnight to learn magic, maybe I would have.” A horn sounded nearby. “Well, I need to go join my company.”
The two men embraced and then stepped back awkwardly. “Luck,” Cricket finally said.
“You too.”
Cricket turned away and headed for Mannath’s pavilion, almost bumping into Brigit before he saw her. “Just said goodbye, didn’t you?” she asked.
“No, I—” The look in her eyes made him stop. “Is it always like this?” he asked quietly.
“Always. Which may be why I don’t have many close friends.”
“You must be very lonely.”
“It’s the way I am,” she answered. “Now, come on, if I’m going to be your charioteer, then we’re going to lead this pack of babies.”
“Thank you. For everything.”
“Save it until we’re back at Caer Arberth eating the victor’s feast.”
The two armies formed up before the day was an hour old, facing each other across the soft green valley. Three chariots bearing a green branch of truce broke away from the opposite side and approached the middle, and Mannath said, “Cricket, Kai, come with me.”
As they drove towards the meeting, Cricket’s vision shifted, and he saw a sky dark with ghostly crows. “Brigit,” he said. “Be ready for anything.”
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