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Lunasa approached. The sun burned a hole in the sky. The Island of Wings sweltered in heat. Inside the squat fort, in the cooler shade of his quarters, Vass handed his newly arrived guest a horn of ale.
‘This is a rare honour,’ he said. ‘The first time since Kerrigen that Ardvasar has been favoured by its queen.’
Mara swallowed a mouthful of the drink before she answered. ‘Your tongue and tone don't please me, Vass,’ she said. ‘If you lose the first, the second might change.’ While he apologized, she walked to the cold hearth, staring into dead ashes. A boy scurried in with a tray of food. ‘I heard Kylerhea had a problem with intruders, again.’ Her eyes rose to meet his. ‘Maybe the great warrior, Vass, grows too old and slow to defend this corner.’ She held his gaze as the threat struck home. The placement of warriors, and their command, was for her to dictate. ‘Explain.’
So he told her, including what she already knew, that robbers had come during Beltane, the harm done was to Skaaha, everything taken was retrieved, the men killed. She made him repeat every detail of the court, the punishment, every word he could recall that the men had said in their defence, the manner of their dying.
‘So Ard pulled the leader's tongue before the branding?’
‘First, before castration. I held the man's head myself.’
Mara chewed on a piece of fruit. The agony of crushing was great. Bartok would have bartered her for a quick death if he'd been able to speak. ‘That was unduly hasty. Pain loosens tongues. You might have learned more than you did.’
‘I doubt there was more.’ Vass shrugged. ‘They were outsiders, taking advantage of empty homes. The other two said nothing different.’
‘Then they deserved every pain-filled moment of their deaths,’ she said, settling on the cushions, ‘for their stupidity in being caught, if nothing else.’ She'd cursed herself for carelessness since word had come to Doon Beck. The druids would have ordered her head if Bartok had breathed one word of her involvement. ‘Come, sit.’ She patted the goatskin next her, waited till he settled. ‘I take it our little blacksmith is none the worse for her ordeal.’
‘I don't know.’ Vass wiped ale from his long moustache with the back of his hand. ‘She's gone.’
‘Gone!’ The exclamation was too sharp, so she took a breath, lowered her pitch to normal. ‘From Kylerhea? Gone where?’
Again, Vass shrugged. ‘The druid took her. To Tokavaig, I think.’
Mara quelled her reaction. Beads of sweat prickled on her upper lip. The sanctuary was not a place she could go, nor one she could easily gain information from. But Skaaha's presence there meant she did not recover. Like her moon-crazed aunt, perhaps her mind had gone. ‘Good,’ she said, letting her mouth curve in a smile. ‘At least she'll get the best of care.’ The girl had distracted her long enough. The younger one, the warrior, was now the greater threat. But, as each sun passed, she grew easier to reach. Patience was all that was required. Mara stood to go.
‘Stay the night,’ Vass offered. ‘The ride home will be cooler come morning. Give my men and your women the chance to be reacquainted.’
‘Better your warriors spend time training,’ Mara said, as he followed her out to the sunny forecourt. Brightness narrowed her eyes, the midday heat intense. ‘The standards of this chapter have slipped. Be careful they don't slip further.’ She mounted her waiting horse, called the women to order and rode off, hooves clattering over cobbles and out through the gates.
Vass shrugged sympathy to his bewildered men and went back inside. Jiya had emerged from the room she'd vanished into to avoid the warrior queen. She stood by the hearth, staring down at the half-drunk ale, the barely touched food. Her head came up when he entered.
‘Touching,’ she snorted, ‘her concern for Skaaha.’
‘It's a first,’ he agreed. Long ago, as Glenelg tutor, he'd trained both Mara and Kerrigen, and later, Jiya. ‘Cunning and jealous, that's Mara. I brought her to womanhood, but even in the ring of fire it was Kerrigen's reception the previous Beltane that consumed her.’ He'd felt sorry for the young warrior, unable to enjoy her triumphs, always watching her rival, while Kerrigen, focused on the task, streaked ahead. In the end, despite considerable talent, Mara had defeated herself. Now, by force of accident, her desire was achieved. ‘I doubt she cares for Kerrigen's daughter, but that rivalry is dead and gone.’
‘Until she threatened Skaaha in Bride's cavern. And there's something else, something more.’ Jiya gripped her head. ‘When the druids put this hole in my skull they took it from me.’
‘Don't push, Jiya.’ Rebellion against the chain of command couldn't be countenanced. ‘Bracadale upholds Mara. No man can lead against the queen.’
‘Yet you didn't tell her Skaaha was at Glenelg.’
‘Must've slipped my mind.’ Vass stroked his moustache. ‘Put it down to being old and slow. Everything goes, like my standards.’ He tipped the tray of food into the dead hearth. ‘She'll find out soon enough.’
At Glenelg, the final night of Lunasa was dedicated to gambling and drink. Around the low table in Doon Telve's great room, Donal raised the last drinking horn of the night.
‘Who lives for ever?’ he shouted.
‘We do!’ the students roared back, raising their drinks.
‘What do you seek?’ Donald called again.
‘Death in glory!’ The toast was drunk by draining the horns. Everybody struggled to their feet and set off for their respective quarters.
In her chamber, Skaaha stripped for bed. She'd done well in the festival games, except for riding chariots. The school had four, one of which was Eefay's, inherited from Kerrigen, and four charioteers – strong young men who drove while the girls took turns on board, throwing javelins at straw targets. Skaaha's inexperience had gone against her, the difficulty of working with a partner. The curtain on her chamber shifted. Terra came in.
‘Shouldn't you be back in Doon Trodden?’ Skaaha asked.
‘Donal sent me.’ The redhead pulled off her tunic. In the gloom her breasts looked even whiter than they did outdoors. ‘To teach you the rules.’
‘What rules? I'm going to bed.’
‘Those rules.’ Terra wriggled out of her leggings. ‘The rules of fucking for warriors.’ She paused to grin widely up at Skaaha. ‘He said you shied away from the charioteers, even while drinking, so I should work my magic instead.’ She stood up, ran her hands over her bosom and down her belly. ‘Nice, huh?’
‘Your body's beautiful, Terra, but I don't want pleasure. I'm here to work.’
‘Ah, but that's the first rule. Warriors drink and fuck as hard as they fight. We don't live long. There's a lot to fit in.’ She sat down on the bed, rolling over to leave space for Skahaa beside her. ‘Don't worry. I won't force you. We can just sleep. It's not like you owe me a forfeit.’
‘What, then I'd have to?’ Skaaha eased herself on to the edge of the bed, stretching out, the girl's arm a ridge behind her neck.
‘'Course. Is there some kind of forfeit you don't have to pay?’ She put her hand round Skaaha's waist, yanked her properly on to the bed. ‘You'll fall out.’
Their skin touched all the way down the length of their bodies. The redhead's breast lay on Skaaha's arm. The still air stifled, the broch too warm.
‘Go home,’ Skaaha said. ‘It's too hot.’
Terra's head tucked on to her shoulder. ‘Hot's good,’ she said. ‘Donal wants you warmed up. Cuddling would be a start.’ Her fingers traced the pale white scars on Skaaha's left breast, round and round. ‘That's pretty, you know.’
‘The scar?’ Skaaha gazed down at Terra's hand. Anger grew in her. ‘Don't you know how I got it?’
‘Mostly. I was there when you had their heads off. We all were.’ Between comments, she kissed Skaaha's other breast, playing the nipple with her tongue. ‘You're our hero, don't you know?’ Her hand caressed Skaaha's ribs, her belly. ‘There isn't anything we wouldn't do for you.’
‘Except stop t
ouching me?’ It was strange, because she didn't really care. Her body was just that – a body, not her, nothing to do with her.
‘All right.’ Terra wriggled up the bed a little, reached over and pulled Skaaha's arm around her. ‘You touch me then.’ It was their noses that touched, bodies pressed together, the heat creating beads of perspiration between them.
‘I can't.’ The words came out like a cry for help. She couldn't move away either. Breasts pressed against hers. Hands stroked her shoulders, spine. Another heart beat on her ribs. The soft skin of their bellies touched, rising and falling with each breath, sticking together then peeling away. Her arms went round the other girl's neck. Their faces touched. Cheeks rubbed together. Her mouth made little kisses on Terra's, wanting something human to happen, to reach her.
‘You can't die either,’ Terra whispered, meeting each small kiss, ‘with your body remembering those men. Make better memories for it.’
A groan that might have been despair welled up from Skaaha's throat as she rose above the girl, deepening the kiss, lips parting, pressing into, tongues touching, tasting. Her body covered Terra's. Under her, the redhead eased on to her back. It became the most urgent need to touch and stroke and kiss, to explore the smooth, warm skin of this excited and exciting lover, to spread those pale thighs and let her fingers discover how the flesh of a woman felt to touch, to enter and be enveloped by.
‘Am I like this?’ Amazement filled her, feeling moist muscled strength, the clenching tremor. The need to give of herself into this woman rose, irresistible.
‘You bet,’ Terra murmured. Threading her fingers through Skaaha's, she moved their two hands, linked, between Skaaha's thighs, parting the lips of her vulva, playing around the damp, swollen clitoris. ‘See,’ she breathed, and eased their joined hands back till both middle fingers pushed gently into the firm wet warmth of Skaaha's cunt. ‘Feel for yourself. As beautiful as I am.’
In his chamber on the other side of the broch, Donal lay uncomfortably awake, aroused and wishing he'd had the foresight to fill his own bed for the night. Skaaha promised to be the most talented student he'd ever taught. She'd come with physical strength honed from long hours in the forge and, like Eefay, a lifetime's practice in dexterity of movement on the ground and in the air. All he need do was translate those into battle skills. But tension made her rigid, not caring who touched her but not participating, not freely, fully engaging her body. From the sounds he couldn't help but hear, Terra was making the first steps towards loosening that grip.
Skaaha woke at dawn, legs tangled with the other girl's, the taste of sex still on her lips. A lover's sense of power lifted her spirit. She, with her hands, mouth and body, had brought a woman to the peak of ecstasy, holding her through that extraordinary intimacy. In the gloom of the broch, she stared at the sleeping face beside her. Wonder lit her mind. Her body had felt pleasure, and survived. There was nothing ugly inside her. The shame of being female was gone. Sliding out of bed, she grabbed her shift, tiptoed downstairs and ran outside to tumble and cartwheel over dew-wet grass. The mauve mist of morning rang with birdsong. She was a woman in a woman's body, beautiful and alive.
As the students began to arrive, Terra appeared. Skaaha hurried to her side.
‘Will you come back tonight?’ she asked.
‘Can't.’ Terra yawned. ‘I promised to fuck with Donal. My reward, or his, I'm not sure which.’ She grinned. ‘Good, weren't we? Now get yourself a man. Rub out all that stuff you didn't want. Oh’ – about to cross to the park, she turned back – ‘except in the middle of your moon, when you're truly desperate. That's when women are best. You don't get with child then.’
Skaaha stared after her as the redhead went to warm up for the morning routines. Then she ran back to snatch up her shift from the grass, hauling it over her head, all fingers and thumbs. Donal called as she ran away from the broch. He could wait. She needed Ruan. He might be up and gone, and she didn't know where he did his morning practice now. He hadn't joined the school again since their first day. Running towards the druid huts among the trees, she shouted his name, repeatedly.
The door of the middle lodge opened, and he stood looking at her, tousle-haired from sleep.
‘Ruan,’ she gasped, running up to him. ‘You need to do something for me.’ She pulled him back inside, and stopped. There was someone in his bed.
‘What is it?’ Ruan asked.
It was Lana, the female druid, awake, beginning to rise.
‘I didn't know you were busy.’ Skaaha turned to go. ‘I'll come back.’
‘It's all right.’ He was quite unperturbed. ‘What's wrong?’
Lana, equally unperturbed, pulled her robe on. She was very pretty, more rounded than a warrior. ‘I'm going anyway,’ she said pleasantly. ‘You'll have peace to talk.’ She smiled at Skaaha. ‘We're honoured to have you with us.’ Her hand squeezed Ruan's arm as she walked past. The door closed behind her.
‘Skaaha?’ Ruan prompted.
‘What was she doing here?’ Skaaha's thumb jerked towards the door. ‘Is this your morning practice now?’ Fury, real, burning fury, raged in her gut.
‘So that's what you're here for.’ He went to the hearth, and ladled hot liquid into two cups. ‘To discuss who shares my bed?’ He offered one of the cups. ‘I stopped being celibate when you came of age.’
Skaaha smacked the cup away. Steaming liquid arched through the air. The cup clattered into shelves of potted herbs. It wasn't allowed to rip the head off a druid. Not his, and not hers. ‘I came because I haven't bled since before Beltane.’ Her teeth grated together. Fists clenched, her breath came hard.
‘You're certain?’ He looked puzzled, as if he couldn't understand the terror of that. ‘You were given something at Tokavaig to make sure you did.’
‘Then it didn't work! What kind of fool do you think I am?’
‘Not any kind.’ He was smiling, tried to hide it by taking up his own cup. As he turned with it in his hand, she swatted it away to join the other.
‘Three moons,’ she said. ‘Be grateful I'm not allowed to kill you!’
‘Your restraint is remarkable,’ he said, but his grin widened and he began to chuckle then to laugh. ‘If I'm to help you,’ he got out, ‘we'll need cups.’
She spun round him, pushed her foot into the back of his knee then raised it to stamp his back as he dropped, but he turned as he fell, caught her ankle and brought her down. Her weight landed on top of him. Throwing her leg across him, she lunged to grab his head. Her teeth grazed his cheek as he rolled them over, bodyweight heavy on her chest, his legs between hers, hands pinned either side of her head.
‘How did you ever think you were not a warrior?’ he asked. Risking being bitten, he dropped a kiss on her nose, then her mouth. ‘You were with a woman yourself last night.’
‘How do you know?’ she snapped, moving her hips to shift the clothes that were between them, the skin of his thigh touching hers.
‘I can taste her.’
How easily she might throw him off. ‘I don't want to hurt you!’ she yelled. Her body writhed, arching against his.
‘If there's something you do want’ – he struggled to hold her – ‘ask.’
‘I want to fuck!’ she screamed into his face.
His mouth came down on hers. Hands released, she grabbed his head, meeting the brutality of his kiss as if starved for it. Fire surged through her, flaring, hot waves. Hungry to be filled, her cunt swelled, ached, body urging him into, breath gasping at the ferocity of the thrust.
‘This won't help,’ she groaned, her voice cracking, arms holding tight in case he should go, or stop, rocking to draw him deeper, deeper, deeper in.
‘It will’ – his voice hard – ‘help us both’ – husky, at her ear – ‘a lot.’
When the wildness subsided, they lay, wrung out, on cushions by the hearth, hands still finding skin to speak through touch, murmuring nonsense words till they returned to themselves.
‘You see?�
�� he asked. Some moments were for ever, and this was one, already passing. ‘We can feel too much.’ The weight of her head lay on his shoulder. ‘Now the balance is restored.’ Her fingers pressed into the grooves of his ribs.
‘There's more, Ruan.’ Her head shifted against his arm to look at him. ‘I'm not safe.’
‘Here’ – he frowned – ‘or with me?’
Her eyes searched his, as if she looked for an answer in him. ‘With myself.’ She moved her head to rest her cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.
He kissed the crown of her head. The distance between them returned. Some part of her, unreachable, closed off. ‘Good or bad, we make our own feelings. It's our spirit speaking, to guide us.’
‘Mine belongs to Bride.’ Her voice was muffled, sorrowful. ‘I trust no one.’
‘That will change. Go on with your training’ – this was the moment of dread, where his priesthood was affirmed or abandoned – ‘and take other lovers.’
She raised herself, looking down at him. ‘Terra said that too.’
‘Warrior wisdom.’ There was a deal of truth in it. ‘Slay your ghosts or they slay you.’ Time, the flow of stillness, was the true gift. ‘Embrace it.’ He shifted a strand of hair that had fallen across her eyes. ‘Loving should come as easily as breath, and be as sweet.’
‘I know.’ She rose, pulling down the crumpled shift. ‘Will you give me something to make me bleed?’
‘If you're certain.’
‘Three moons, what else could it be?’
He stood, went to his shelves, keeping his back to her so his distress would not be seen. ‘The child might be mine, from the ring of fire.’
‘Or not,’ she said. ‘The odds are against it.’ It was said matter-of-fact, the die already cast. ‘I need my body fit to fight.’ Her thoughts had moved on.
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