They were interrupted by an order to get moving, but Briah didn’t care. She spent a happy, exhausting day, getting to know her new companions.
****
The woman—Briah had already begun to think of her as her patient—was named Silla. Her husband was Crayl. The two boys were Rory and Rolf, but Briah never knew which was which. Both were a handful, and she was constantly carrying one or the other, while Crayl carried all their worldly goods on his back, and Silla used Briah’s staff to help her walk.
The pace was slower than the first caravan, but Briah was enjoying friendly company and having a useful purpose too much to care.
They rested often, and Briah made teas for Silla each time. She tried everything she could think of for pregnancy and coughs. By evening, Silla said she was feeling much better. She still looked bad, but at least the cough was under control. Privately, Briah suspected that it was the thoughtful attention that helped even more than the medicine. Crayl helped with the children, but little else, and only sat and waited to be served his food when the party rested. Now, at least, Silla could rest as well.
Briah prepared a simple meal of flat bread cooked on hot coals, and a stew of dried venison, and some of her herbs. Silla slept, waking only to eat, then went back to sleep while Briah cleaned the leather stew pot and the few utensils she had used to cook.
She checked on Silla once before sliding into her own bedroll. The older woman stirred briefly. “I’m glad you’re here, Briah.” Silla squeezed Briah’s hand. “You’re doing so much, I wish I knew how to thank you.” Her words were all the thanks Briah wanted, but her throat closed with tears, so she could not say them.
Exhausted, Briah wrapped herself in her feather blanket and prepared to lie down beside Silla. She checked her store of medicines, and made sure they were within easy reach if Silla should need anything during the night.
Silla was already snoring, and Briah about to lie down when Crayl came over from the other side of the fire, where his two children slept peacefully. “Will she be all right?” he whispered, concern heavy in his voice.
“I think so,” Briah whispered, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “The pace is slow enough not to tax her too much. But she will need to rest when you reach your new home, as well. Maybe until the baby comes.”
Crayl, who clearly had enough on his mind just getting his family to their destination, had apparently not thought of that. “But I must work dawn to dusk building our new house, preparing the fields, setting up my forge! The boys are too young to help; they will need care as much as their mother will! How will we manage?” Seeing his panicked look, Briah felt sorry for the big man, whose strength and stubbornness were suddenly no help to him.
“Surely your neighbors will help,” Briah began.
Crayl shook his head. “When the village is built and the crops planted, then, yes, of course they will. But until then…” He shot a desperate look at Briah. “Could you stay with us until then? I will pay you…”
“Sir, I am on an urgent quest,” Briah began. But although she had known this family for only a day, she could not refuse the worried husband and father who sat beside her. “Let’s see how things look when we get there,” she said softly. “For now, we both need to sleep.”
Crayl nodded slowly. “Thank you, Briah,” he said, then returned to his sleeping children.
****
They made good time the next day, with clear weather, and game trails that led them through mostly level ground. The early spring forest was filled with edible greens and useful herbs, and the women gathered as they walked, barely slowing the pace.
The majority of the colonists—there were about twenty in all—became friendlier to Briah as they noted Silla’s improving health, and Briah’s quiet hard work. There were no healers among this group, which seemed the height of folly to Briah, until she learned that another small party from another overcrowded village would be meeting them at the site of the new village. She hoped there would be a healer among them, for, no matter how attached she had become to Silla and her family, nor how pleased she was to be made welcome by her own kind for once, she needed to get to Lir’s stronghold.
Late in the afternoon, the scouts Gowen had sent ahead returned with the welcome news that the party would reach their destination the next day. They also brought a deer they had killed. This brought a rush of energy to the travelers. In their eagerness to reach their new home—as well as a supper of fresh venison—they quickened their pace so much that Crayl was forced to carry his wife, while Briah carried both the boys.
Fortunately, they did not have to travel far. Dusk came soon, and the band camped beside a swift-flowing stream, swollen with spring snowmelt. Fording the stream the next morning, the travelers crossed a rich and beautiful land with renewed energy. Even Silla perked up and moved more easily. When Briah felt a brief pang of sadness, it took her quite some time to identify the cause. From the day she began this journey, her only dealings with her fellow humans had involved concern for her own safety, and preventing them from interfering with her mission. Now that her companions were kind and made her welcome, Briah had to face the fact that they were not her people after all. They were an extended family, here to build a new community. When they reached their destination, they would be home. Briah would simply be alone again.
She shrugged away the feeling, calling up images of Kamin and the roane to remind herself that she was not alone. But it was the ugly, red nosed green face of Taran that brought a smile to her face, and a lightness to her heart. Then Briah thought about her mission, and her mood darkened again.
The travelers reached the site of their new village just before nightfall. The second band of colonists had already arrived and had begun marking trees to be felled and sites for their new homes. Even more than she had that morning, Briah felt rather lost among the happy reunion taking place around her, as kinsmen clasped hands and children ran about, laughing and shouting. She made herself useful by setting up camp in the small stretch of land that Crayl told them would be their new home. She settled Silla into her blankets in the grassiest, most rock free part of it, between a small willow tree and a variety of flowering bushes. Then she brewed some tea and started on the evening meal.
Crayl was busy with the other men of the settlement, but Briah could not stop thinking about his urgent pleas of two nights ago. Could she really leave them like this? Fool, she snapped at herself. Just a moment ago, you ached with loneliness because you are an outsider. Now you think to put your own people at risk rather than leave a family you barely know to fend for itself?
Fortunately, Briah was rescued from her dilemma just after dark. As the communal fire was being banked and a watch posted, a woman approached Crayl’s campsite. “I was told a pregnant woman was having some difficulty?” she said to Briah.
Silla was already asleep, her sons curled up like mice beside her, so Briah hurried to the newcomer and spoke in whispers. “Yes,” she said pointing to Silla. “I am Briah, and I have been caring for her, but I must leave in the morning. Are you a healer?”
The other woman’s face showed a moment of surprise, but she recovered quickly enough. “I am Shala, apprentice to the midwife of Ravenswood. I’ve come with my husband to this new village to be their healer.”
Shala didn’t look much older than Briah, but for the moment, that didn’t matter. They spent a few moments conferring about Silla’s condition and what she would need, then parted company. Briah lay down in her furs, vastly relieved, for she was convinced of Shala’s competence. She could continue her journey with a clear conscience.
CHAPTER 26
After an emotional parting, Briah headed into the forest alone. Crayl had tried to convince her to stay, and not, Briah was touched to realize, out of concern for his wife. He had complete faith in Shala. He just didn’t like the idea of Briah traveling alone through unsettled wilderness.
“At least wait for Gowen to organize a hunting party!” he had
pleaded. “Armed men who can get you closer to where you’re bound! Surely you know that the woods are filled with dangers!”
For a moment, Briah had been afraid he would try to keep her there by force. But in the end, he had merely shook his head and gone to the many duties awaiting him.
Briah had done the same.
“I’m on my own now, for better or worse,” Briah said as she made her way into the rising sun over stony hills and through open meadows. “I can’t be any more vulnerable alone than I’ve been through most of this journey among other people.”
As it turned out, she was right.
For two days, she encountered no one. The land was all rocky hills and sparse vegetation, and empty of everything—except memories. For this was land Briah had passed through shortly after leaving Lir’s stronghold; her memories were surprisingly clear. While this was good news, for it meant her goal was at hand, the bleak landscape seemed to crawl with nightmares. She whistled and sang to keep them at bay, and made good time that first day, stopping only briefly for rest and water, and eating some of the hardy traveling rations Crayl had paid her with.
At night, curled up in the hollow of a gigantic tree, the nightmares caught up with her. She was a child again, running from Lir, who kept growing as he chased her, becoming a giant, his face lost in the roof beams. She kept running, desperate for a place to hide, while all the while, Lir laughed. “You can never escape me, Briah,” he called out. “But keep running, for the chase amuses me!” Then he was upon her, his laughter filling the tiny crevice in which she had hidden, his laughter filling the whole world…
Briah came awake, gasping in the predawn darkness. She knew there would be no more sleep for her that night. She lay awake until first light, listening to the nighttime sounds of the land. The hoot of an owl, the calls of even larger predators as they returned to their dens to sleep was soothing. They were normal, simply living as best they could. The actions of a man like Lir would make even less sense to them than to Briah.
She set out at dawn, and began to feel better. The shining sun chased away her fears of the night before, and as long as it was visible, guided her ever eastward. She often saw tracks of large animals, but her keen senses kept her away from them by day, while her fire kept them away from her by night. She entered a mountainous region, and began to search for passes in her progress eastward. When she passed a group of shepherds taking a flock of goats to summer pastures, she screwed up her courage, and tried to ask for directions to Lir’s stronghold. They did not understand her, and hurried on their way without answering, but Briah thought she saw fear in their eyes at the mention of Lir. Hopefully, that at least meant she was getting close.
Later that same day, two young men came down the same trail the shepherds had been on. She briefly considered asking them for directions as well, but something in their manner made her keep on moving. Their paths would soon intersect, but Briah changed course to give them a wide berth. They called out, and gestured for her to come closer. Briah continued walking, watching from the corner of her eyes as the one goaded the other into giving chase.
With a loud yell, the two men ran towards her. Briah sighed, and drew two stones from her pouch. She waited until they were well within range, then flung the stones in quick succession, striking both men in the head. One dropped to the ground; the other only staggered. Briah kept walking without looking back—but she heard the men limping away in the opposite direction.
After that, as she came within sight of a mountain village, she passed several people, singly or in groups, but no one bothered her. Perhaps word of a demon woman who preyed on young men was traveling, or perhaps the sight of a woman traveling alone with no sign of fear was spooky enough in its own right.
On a misty morning, six days after she parted company with Crayl, Briah stopped at a small village. If it had been up to her, she would have avoided any further contact with people, but by then she was in need of supplies, and more importantly, directions. She had traveled east as far as she dared. Now it was time to find Lir—if she hadn’t already passed his lands, for there was nothing familiar at all about this place. The village, at least, seemed harmless enough. In fact, the people here seemed more afraid of Briah than she of them.
A wiry old man with the bearing of a chief came forward, while a knot of other people gathered to watch from a safe distance. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” he demanded.
“My name is Briah, and I am on an urgent errand, but I fear I have lost my way.”
“Are you the spirit woman who has been attacking shepherds?”
Briah laughed so hard she feared they would think her truly a demon after all. “I am a woman traveling alone, and able to defend myself against men who would force themselves on me, or take my freedom. I suppose to some that would make me other than human.”
The headman grunted, and the people behind him seemed to relax. “What is your errand?” he asked, a little more kindly than before.
“I am seeking a powerful man named Lir. Do you know where his stronghold lies?”
At once the suspicion returned to the old man’s gaze. “We know of him. Our village lies just outside his domain. And for as long as we have nothing he desires it will remain that way. What business have you with such as he?”
Briah cursed herself for not planning this part ahead of time. Of course she needed some sort of plausible story. These people had good reason to fear Lir and his warriors. If they took her for an ally or a spy....
Shaking her head in frustration, she blurted out the truth. “I’m going to kill him,” she said simply.
At that, the entire village began laughing as Briah had a moment before.
“Well now,” said a plump, middle-aged woman, coming out of the crowd. “If that’s your errand, you’re most welcome here. But maybe a meal and a good night’s rest will help boost your strength.”
“Or bring you to your senses,” said a young man.
“Nay, nay,” said another. “She’s more use to us if she doesn’t come to her senses. She might actually do it!” This brought more laughter, but Briah didn’t mind. It occurred to her then, that the truth might make the best cover story of all. As long as they thought her mad, no one would question her any further.
****
The next morning, well fed and well rested, Briah gave her last piece of silver to the village headman and set out on her way. The directions were clear enough: follow the stream which ran past the village for two days until it joined a small river. Follow the river upstream for half a day, until coming to a rocky beach, clearly marked as a fording spot. Across the river from that place was the beginning of Lir’s lands. The stronghold lay a full day’s walk from the river. But that much Briah already knew.
The going was easy and her pack was full, so Briah had plenty of time to think about the next task at hand: how to get close enough to Lir to kill him once she got there.
Briah sorted through the various plans she had started out with, though she’d had precious little time to think on them throughout her travels. Then she watched in dismay as each one collapsed under the weight of the reality of her true situation.
The obvious disguise for this kind of assassination—a lone woman—was to pose as a whore. Briah had originally planned on doing it that way; there was a kind of healing justice in reliving a few moments of being Lir’s victim, then reversing the situation and ending it forever.
But Lir would have no interest in an adult woman, and having borne a child, Briah could not possibly hide her womanly curves.
Since she had started out with so much gold and silver, Briah had assumed she could gain entrance by posing as a trader. Merchants had been common visitors to Lir’s stronghold, especially those with seal fur or amber or finely carved ivory. But Briah had not counted on all of her money draining away before she could buy anything that might tempt the guards into letting her in.
She let out a sigh of exasperation. “A female merchant
would have aroused too much suspicion anyway,” she told herself.
The last plan consisted of just walking up to the gates and challenging Lir to armed combat. It might even appeal to his sense of humor. But he was just as likely to order the guards to run her through without even leaving his quarters.
When Briah reached the river, she still had no firm plan. She plucked a reed from a stand that grew in the shallows, and thought about fashioning a flute. Musicians, at least, were welcomed anywhere, even in Lir’s domain. Briah remembered many a feast where bards and minstrels entertained. Sometimes, when Lir had his fits, he would even allow a musician into his chambers in the hopes of easing his suffering. But as Briah recalled, the musicians didn’t always leave.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway! I don’t know how to make a flute or play one!” Briah flung the reed into the river and sobbed with frustration. After all she had suffered to get here; after coming so far—she was about to be defeated by lack of imagination. It wasn’t fair!
The sun was setting, and the reeds would provide enough cover for one night. Exhausted, Briah curled up in the mud, and slept.
She awoke often to the noise of the river. The sounds were so different from those of the ocean that she could not sleep through it as she could at home.
To make matters worse, the river kept trying to talk to her. But the dialect of the inland spirits was too foreign, and Briah was too tired to make any sense of it. Finally, toward dawn she shouted, “Either speak plainly or be silent!”
For a moment, there was silence. Then, Briah heard the word “truth” in the rushing of the river.
“What did you say?” asked Briah.
“Truth,” said the river. “Only the truth will save you here.”
“Truth? In Lir’s domain? I don’t see how.”
“It helped you back in that last village.”
“Well, yes.” Briah thought about it. “Should I do what I thought about earlier? Tell the guards I’ve come to kill Lir? Challenge him to single combat?”
The Seal Queen Page 19
