Child of a Mad God--A Tale of the Coven

by R. A. Salvatore

  And reminded her, painfully, that the lives of the uamhas were ones of pure stoicism, else they would be murdered. Murdered by her tribe.

  Aoleyn felt some atonement in healing Bahdlahn, though it was remedy to but a tiny bit of the pain the traditions of Usgar inflicted on these poor folk.

  “You should be done for the night,” Aoleyn said to him, and she sent another round of healing magic into his hand. “For two nights. You need to rest…”

  She stopped when she saw Bahdlahn looking at her and shaking his head emphatically. No, not looking at her, she realized, but looking past her. The young woman ducked as she turned about, and a good thing she had, for coming up th’Way, not far down the trail and stairs, was Elder Raibert!

  With a gasp, Aoleyn rolled aside and crawled under and behind a bush, settling in just as Raibert came around the last bend, and over the last step.

  “What are you doing, slave?” the old man asked.

  Bahdlahn held up his bruised, broken hand and gave a little whimper, and raised the tone of his voice, Aoleyn noted, as if to mimic her own. He was trying to cover for her.

  Clever, Aoleyn thought, and behind the bush, she shook her head as she considered the young man’s earlier name, Thump, and the derisive implications.

  “Do you think that excuses you from work?” Raibert asked sharply, and he brought his arm up, small whip in hand.

  It was all Aoleyn could manage to stay concealed behind the bush, for truly she wanted to leap out when Raibert cracked the whip on poor Bahdlahn’s shoulder—a not uncommon occurrence, she had learned in her many visits to the young man. Even though she should not have been surprised, though, actually seeing the brutality brought tears welling to Aoleyn’s black eyes, and a level of fury she didn’t know she possessed. She wanted to leap out of the brush, igniting the power of the gray bars and launching Raibert away with a pair of sizzling lightning bolts!

  But she didn’t. For Bahdlahn’s sake more than her own, the frightened young woman stayed hidden and quiet.

  “Move along!” Raibert roared, and he whipped Bahdlahn across the back as the young man hustled back to his work. “You finish that step this night or I’ll be taking all the skin from your back, idiot boy!”

  He cracked the whip again and again, in the air over Bahdlahn’s head. Aoleyn could barely see the old wretch from her angle, but enough to recognize the glee stamped upon his ugly face.

  Again, she had to fight to contain herself. She thought she could easily dispatch the fool and drop him into a ravine, and who would be the wiser?

  But then she was crouching again, and even lower, sucking in her breath in terror, when a voice called out from far down th’Way.

  “Raibert! Usgar-forfach, I would speak with you!”

  Aoleyn knew that voice all too well.

  “Finish the step!” Raibert said one last time, and he cracked the whip in the air just above Bahdlahn’s head and turned about to greet Tay Aillig.

  Aoleyn flattened on the ground, desperate to make herself invisible. She tried to remind herself that she could get away, that she could ease back here and leap from a high cliff.

  But where would she go? There was no way she could be seen up here in the midst of night and ever go back to the Usgar camp!

  Tay Aillig began talking to Raibert, some questioning about how the old man could possibly stay alive up here year after year, but Aoleyn hardly noted the words, more concerned about whether their conversation would cover her retreat.

  Aoleyn thought her chance had come. She began to silently call upon the green stone set to her belly to lessen her weight so she could silently recede, but then she heard Tay Aillig become more specific with Raibert, and with words she could not dismiss.

  “Why has the fossa not taken you?” Tay Aillig asked.

  Aoleyn’s fear melted into curiosity.

  “How can Raibert stay alone up here, year after year, and not be devoured by the demon that haunts Fireach Speuer?”

  How, indeed, Aoleyn wondered, for she had seen the fossa up on a ledge not far from this place, and not far from Raibert’s tent in the Usgar winter camp,

  “Why would you speak of the fossa?”

  “Iseabal will show her red face this season.”

  “I care not,” Raibert answered sternly. “The demon fossa comes through this place, but dares not stay. Usgar’s song hurts its mind, you know. Hurts its mind, I say, and drives it mad.” Raibert gave a little wheezing laugh.

  Aoleyn winced and brought her hand to her belly when he admitted, “Drives us all mad.”

  She remembered the crone, her first teacher, who had told her much the same thing. Aoleyn heard the words in her mind as clearly as the crone had told her: One mustn’t stay there too long, or sure you’ll be driven mad.

  When she had used Raibert to argue that point, the crone had told her in no uncertain terms that this man, the Elder of Usgar, was quite mad.

  Aoleyn felt the gemstones she had wedded to her body, heard their song in her heart. She would know them better, she quietly assured herself. They would not drive her mad.

  “The demon fossa can’no resist the song of Usgar, yet can’no withstand the magic, not in body, but in mind,” Raibert went on, and Aoleyn swallowed hard, for it was almost as if he was reading, and mocking, her thoughts.

  She saw Raibert give a little shrug, against the widening grin of Tay Aillig—what was he about, Aoleyn wondered?

  “Might that we’re not so different, we Usgar men and the deamhan fossa, eh?” Raibert said. “Might that we’re more bound to Iseabal than Usgar, who makes whores of our women.”

  “Perhaps you are,” Tay Aillig replied, shocking Aoleyn. “Are you an old woman, then?”

  Aoleyn couldn’t tell if Raibert was taking the insult in stride, or if he was fighting back with a mocking taunt, when he replied, “Is that your play, Usgar-laoch?”

  “When you are dead, I will be Usgar-triath,” Tay Aillig declared.

  Raibert laughed again. “You fancy your spatt’rings thick, young warrior?” he said dismissively, and he laughed, as if the whole thing was a joke, and a preposterous one at that. With a wave of his hand, Elder Raibert started down th’Way, back to the winter encampment.

  “Oh, it will be,” Aoleyn heard Tay Aillig promise, too quietly for the departing man to hear, “after Iseabal’s Blood Moon.”

  Aoleyn’s eyes went wide, for she knew at once what Tay Aillig meant, and what he had planned. It was so clear to her: Tay Aillig meant to kill the fossa, and use that unprecedented glory to claim the tribe as his own!

  The young woman replayed Raibert’s words and thought back to the fight between Brayth and the demon creature, of how her lightning—bolts that would have melted a man, she was sure, for she had felt the power flowing through her spirit and through Brayth’s spear—had done nothing to the fossa.

  Except to madden it even more!

  How might Tay Aillig …

  “Enjoy your time, idiot,” the brute shouted at Bahdlahn, breaking Aoleyn’s train of thought. “Perhaps Usgar-triath Tay Aillig will suffer you to live.”

  Tay Aillig’s laugh had no mirth in it at all. It sounded purely wicked to Aoleyn, as was confirmed for her as Tay Aillig finished.

  “Likely not.”

  32

  THE CRYSTAL MAVEN’S PLAY

  “It is secure,” Aghmor assured Tay Aillig, referring to a shallow cavern down the rocky slope on the back side of the uamhas grove.

  “You will stay with the prisoner until Iseabal shows her face,” Tay Aillig instructed Aghmor. “And one of you with him always,” he added to Ralid and Egard. “The other to me and back with word.”

  The three younger men nodded.

  “We go for one thing now,” Tay Aillig reminded. “And only one. A single prisoner, nothing more.”

  “There will be no raid on the lake this season?” Ralid asked.

  Tay Aillig shrugged, because it didn’t matter. The Blood Moon was expected in two w
eeks; if a major raid was to happen it would have to be after that. Few expected it, though, for the winds were already turning and there was talk of breaking the summer camp immediately following the Blood Moon for an early journey to the winter plateau.

  The War Leader held out his hands, beckoning. “Give me your weapons, that I might have them blessed,” he said.

  “This was to be secret, you said,” Aghmor replied, handing over his spear.

  Tay Aillig nodded and smiled. “Our secret. We four and one other. Now go and prepare. We leave at the dawn.”

  He gathered the four spears, a pair of hand axes, and a pair of long daggers, and hustled quietly around the back of the encampment, coming to the tent of Aoleyn. With a glance to make sure he was not seen, he slipped into the tent through the young woman’s cleverly hidden back flap, and waited.

  * * *

  “You cannot,” Connebragh said, her face a mask of shock.

  Mairen fixed her with an icy stare, reminding her that it was not wise to challenge the word of the Usgar-righinn.

  “Elara’s daughter is—” Connebragh started.

  “The choice is mine, given to me by Usgar’s whispers.”

  “Gavina?” another of the witches remarked, seeming as perplexed as Connebragh.

  “A snaggletoothed dullard,” Connebragh said.

  Mairen slapped her across the face. Connebragh fell back, anger flashing in her gray eyes. But only for a moment, as she stared at the unrelenting Mairen. Her face flushed with shame, for such words were not appropriate—certainly not now! The thirteen of the Coven, no matter who they were, demanded respect, without question!

  “I am … surprised, Usgar-righinn,” Connebragh said, lowering her gaze to the floor and shaking her head. “Aoleyn’s power in the crystal caves seemed—”

  “It is about more than simple power,” Mairen told her, told them all. “And I was surprised, too,” she said softening her tone and putting a hand on Connebragh’s shoulder. “But I’ll not question Usgar’s will.

  “Gavina has affinity, and she understands her place. I am not sure that any of us could say the same of the brat Aoleyn.”

  “There will be another time,” another of the witches remarked.

  Mairen snapped her head around to freeze the witch with a glower.

  “Not for that one,” she said, with more emotion than she should have, she realized, for she did not want any of her witches to come to realize that this was personal, not the whisper of their god.

  * * *

  “I don’t understand,” Aoleyn said. She had returned to her tent after supper, hoping to be out on the mountain quickly, but only to find Tay Aillig waiting for her.

  “You do not need to understand. You only need to do what I have told you to do.”

  Aoleyn looked at the handful of weapons the Usgar-laoch had placed before her. He had told her to bless them, to excite the magic within them to make them more powerful. But there was no raid or approaching battle, no signs of sidhe about, that Aoleyn had heard. And if it was for a hunt, the men would have used different weapons than these, crystal spear tips thick with different magic, like turquoise and malachite.

  These were weapons of war.

  “I can’no … I mean, I am not supposed…” she stammered, and she wasn’t even sure of where to begin.

  “You can and you will, because I told you to,” came the simple answer.

  Aoleyn swallowed hard, terribly afraid. Memories of her encounter with Brayth filled her head, of how the man had taken her, and her virginity, right there in front of Seonagh. He hadn’t said a word, just had done his business and left.

  Was Tay Aillig going to do the same now? She certainly didn’t want any sexual intimacy with this man who claimed that he would be her husband, but if he demanded it and she refused, the result would be violent.

  Aoleyn did a quick survey of the gemstones and reminded herself that she had become an instrument of Usgar, a living weapon.

  “Be quick!” Tay Aillig demanded.

  “We have no fire.”

  “You don’t need a fire. That is for the entertainment of the onlookers and the pride of the witches.”

  Aoleyn looked at him curiously at that. Was it true? Probably, she thought, but how would he know that?

  No matter. Aoleyn took up the weapons one by one and sent her thoughts into their respective crystals. She found the song and pulled it forth, amplifying it with her own energy until it reverberated within the crystal, a vibration that would last for days.

  She felt other curious sensations, mostly from the sapphire strand about her ankle, hinting to alterations in the various songs she had heard, but she dismissed them, not willing to take any chances at all here. She would do exactly as Tay Aillig had demanded, as quickly as possible, and hope that he’d then go on his way and bother her no more.

  Her hand trembled as she at last handed the eighth weapon back, for she feared that Tay Aillig would spin her about and bend her over.

  But he simply nodded, gathered up the haul, and said, “You will tell no one.” Then he slipped out the back flap of the tent.

  Aoleyn exhaled. What was that about? Why had he come to her, in private, to awaken the power of weapons used only for raids when there was no raid?

  She rested back and sat there for a long while in the dark, wondering; her thoughts turned to that newer sensation, the one from the sapphire chain. Of all the gemstones she had set upon her body, she wasn’t sure about those small flecks of sapphire. They were strong with magic, but from everything she could tell, their effects would alter shape, power, or form to the other magic. Thus far, they hadn’t revealed any of their own powers.

  Perhaps she would learn better when she was entered into the Coven, she decided, and she began to collect her wits, and thought to collect some food, so that she could go and visit Bahdlahn and the caves. That had been her intention, at least, but the visit from Tay Aillig had unnerved her. She couldn’t risk a journey this night. Perhaps he had actually noted her hiding in the brush on th’Way when he had come to speak with Raibert.

  Perhaps Tay Aillig meant to surprise Aoleyn and Bahdlahn with the very weapons she had just enchanted, that he and his companions could kill them both.

  It was all too much for the young woman, so she sat there, in the dark, and pondered.

  * * *

  As he approached the rendezvous, Tay Aillig spotted Ralid and Aghmor alone, and when he paused to consider that, the War Leader hung back, hidden in the shadows. Soon after, he noted the approach of the third man, coming down fast from the Usgar camp. He let Egard beat him to the others, then came in cautiously, eavesdropping.

  “It’s true!” he heard Egard say.

  “Why?” Ralid replied.

  “Because Brayth died?” a clearly shaken Aghmor asked. “The War Leader will not be pleased.”

  Tay Aillig crashed into their midst. “About what?” he demanded.

  The three looked to one another nervously, but Aghmor spoke up before Tay Aillig could demand an answer once more.

  “Mairen has chosen Gavina for the Coven.”

  It was all Tay Aillig could do to hold onto the bundle of weapons.

  “How do you know this?” he demanded, but he couldn’t keep the rage out of his voice.

  “We heard two women talking about it, just over the rise,” Aghmor explained.

  “The whispers are throughout the camp. Mairen was in Gavina’s tent telling her,” added Egard. “Balgair told me,” he added, referring to an older man, Gavina’s husband. “He lamented that it could not have happened sooner, when he was still able to hunt and fight.”

  Tay Aillig huffed, but didn’t respond. He sorted his own weapons and threw the other six to the ground at the feet of his three warriors.

  “They are blessed,” he told them. “You go, and do not fail me! A single prisoner, nothing more. I will find you at the cave on the dawn of the sixth day. If you don’t have my captive, then better for you to di
e in the foothills.”

  He turned about and stormed away, gnashing his teeth with frustration. How could this have happened? How dare Mairen!

  There was much he needed to learn, but what Tay Aillig did know was that this would not stand.

  * * *

  Aoleyn finally found her resolve and the confidence that Tay Aillig would not be back to her that night. She gathered up a heavy cloak and moved for the back flap. She stopped when the front flap opened instead, letting the light of a lantern flood into the room.

  “Usgar-righinn?” she asked, recognizing Mairen and Connebragh entering her tent.

  It occurred to her then that Tay Aillig’s demands of her might have been at Mairen’s request. Was blessing those weapons some sort of a test? The last test before she was asked to join the Coven?

  “Sit,” Mairen told her, waving absently at a pile of furs just inside the door.

  The woman’s tone gave Aoleyn pause, for it was not the voice she would expect from one who was about to offer her the greatest opportunity to which an Usgar woman could aspire. She shuffled over and plopped down on the rugs obediently, but neither Mairen nor Connebragh joined her there.

  Connebragh, in fact, went instead for the cabinet where Aoleyn’s magical crystals were kept, and without asking, the woman gathered them up.

  “You’ll not need these now,” Mairen explained.

  Aoleyn didn’t ask outright, but wondered if perhaps she would be given new crystals, more powerful and diverse.

  “Yes, Usgar-righinn,” she replied.

  “Gavina will join the Coven as the thirteenth witch,” Mairen stated bluntly. “It will not be you, girl. You are not ready, and may never be. You must learn now the more mundane tasks of an Usgar woman, and do them well, so that some man might still claim you as his wife.”

  Aoleyn wanted to reply, but her lips would not move! Gavina? Gavina was nearly twenty years her senior and could barely evoke magic from the crystals! Aoleyn liked her well enough, for she was possessed of some sweetness, but she hardly heard the song of Usgar even when it sounded like a leopard’s roar in Aoleyn’s heart!