by Heidi Hanley
“Good job, Sigel,” she said quietly.
He grunted in response.
“Where’s the cave?”
“A few minutes up there,” he said, pointing.
Before they left the nightmarish landscape behind them, Briana dared one glimpse out across the vista and the lake. “It’s beautiful,” she remarked, taking in the valley framed by the steep bowl-shaped hollow of the cirque, made more dramatic by the stormy sky above.
Sigel followed her gaze. “Aye, but we best get moving. This storm will break any minute.” Even as he spoke, lightning split the sky and rain poured out of the blackness. The wind whipped at their clothing. They ran, receiving little cover from the trees, and were soaked when they reached the cave. Sigel instructed her and Dara to wait under a nearby yew until he inspected the dwelling to make sure there were no man-eating animals denned up in it.
She waited, shivering, and fretted about Silas’ safety. The trees around her were black with crows, hunkering and silent in the rain. The big crow with the medallion – Sir Thomas, she corrected herself, though she still had a hard time wrapping her mind around the idea of him as a shapeshifter, for real – was not among the assembled. Sigel returned and led her inside the cave, now lit by a single torch. It was large enough for a small army to camp in, musty, but dry. Chirruping echoed in its shadowy upper vaults. Probably bats, she thought, but they’ll take off as soon as we get a fire going. Dara ran his own inspection, nose to the ground, then came to stand beside Briana with a snort. Someone had left a sizable pile of wood, a boon, as all the possible sources in the forest would be soggy now. She removed her sword and backpack while Sigel quickly built a small fire. As she suspected, a line of furry creatures fluttered out of the cave. He handed her a large woolen wrap. “Here, get your wet clothes off and wrap up in this. Your clothes will dry faster if we can hang them by the fire.”
“Huh? You want me to take off my clothes with you in here?”
“For Maker’s sake, Briana, obviously I’m going to turn my back.” Which he did, the moment she accepted the kilt from his hand.
She’d never changed so fast in her life.
“Okay, I’m covered,” she said, tucking the edges of the garment firmly around her as he came back to the fire. “What about you? You’re soaked through.”
“Aye, I am,” he said and pulled off his own shirt, hanging it and her clothes over a couple of sticks near the fire.
Firelight dramatized the tapestry of Sigel’s bare back. He was a well-built man, large, rugged and ripped with muscle, a marvel to behold. But her eyes were riveted by the multitude of scars that crisscrossed his back, from shoulder to waist.
Hearing her sharp intake of breath, he turned around and realized what she was looking at.
“Compliments of Lord Shamwa.”
“What happened?”
“Turn your back. I’m getting out of these trousers.”
She whipped around and heard rustling cloth. “Three years ago, Shamwa captured me.”
“What!” she caught herself before turning all the way around.
“We’d received word that the Gray Military was pushing into Tyan Ibor toward Moiria. I led a small militia around Art Aron and up the western side of the Dromdara Mountains to stop him. You can turn around.”
She found him swathed and belted in a yellow-and-black plaid kilt. He motioned her to sit beside him as he continued his account.
“We were ambushed at Poet’s Gap and split up. I had the misfortune of being overpowered by some Gray Military men and held captive to await the pleasure of Shamwa.
“He tried to talk me into joining his army as his own lord marshall. Of course, I promptly spit in his face and told him he could… well, never mind what I told him.”
“I know what I’d have told him.”
Sigel shuddered. “I pray to Maker, Briana, that we can protect you from ever having to speak to him at all.”
“Anyway, he wasted no time in tying me between two trees and taking the whip to my back. I think I stuck it through fifty very brutal lashes before passing out. The next thing I knew, Silas was beside me, cutting the ties and helping me slip away from the camp. The man really does move like a cat. I never heard him coming. Shamwa had apparently gone back to his castle and the soldiers were all sleeping. Except for the one who had received a new red necklace, courtesy of the bard.
“The trip to Ratskillen was misery, but we made it. I heard that Shamwa had that entire unit of men killed when he found out I’d escaped. He’s a cruel, evil man, who pleasures himself by torturing and killing things.”
“Sounds like a real psychopath,” Briana said, rubbing a hand across her forehead.
“I don’t know about that, but he’s definitely crazy.”
“You have good reason to want to kill him,” she reflected.
“I want to kill him, but not because of what he did to me. I want to kill him because of what he’s done to this kingdom and what he will continue to do if he is not destroyed.”
She nodded. “How long do you think it’s been?”
“About three hours.”
“He said he’d be back in two.”
“So I’m a little late,” Silas said, entering the cave, dripping. Briana jumped up and then forced herself to sit back down. “Thank Maker you’re okay, Silas.”
“All of us together in one piece. You made it across, huh, Sigel.”
“Aye,” he said. “And you, what did you discover?”
“Wait a sec,” Briana intruded. “Silas, you’re soaked to the bone. You need dry clothes.”
He talked while he was pulling his kilt from inside his pack. Cocking his head at Briana, he said, “I really don’t mind if you watch, milady, but…”
Reddening, she quickly turned her back.
“Aye, well, not such good news, I’m afraid. Shamwa’s men are marching up along the river between Sir Thomas’ and Moiria. I think they expect us to come that way. We’ll have to bushwhack around the loch to get to the crow’s place.”
Sigel nodded. “If they’re heading north, our men are going to come up against them at the river.”
“Probably, but there’s not so many we can’t easily take them. Okay, I’m decent, Briana.”
“We’ll leave at first light,” Sigel said. “In the meantime, we keep the fire low, eat some of this delightful bread Mrs. McPhee sent along, and try to get some sleep.”
Throughout this conversation, something had been bothering Briana. “Why doesn’t Sir Thomas just send horses?”
“Horses wouldn’t cross that cliff trail,” said Sigel. “Do you think we’re making things more difficult for you on purpose?”
“No! Of course not. I just wondered.”
“It’s a good question, my queen,” Silas assured her quietly. He glared at Sigel, who hastily murmured an apology.
After dinner, Dara stretched beside his mistress, staring into the tiny fire, looking like he was thinking deep dog thoughts. His comrades joined him. Silas broke the silence.
“By the way, Briana, could you take a look at somethin’ for me?” He turned his back to her and pulled his hair to the side, revealing a large knot of briars tangled in his hair and a nasty cut from his neck running down to the upper part of his shoulder. Briana gasped. “Silas, why didn’t you say something before? What happened?”
“Ah, it’s not so bad, but might need one of your wee ointments. I tripped over a tree root and fell down an embankment into a patch of thorny buggers.” She rose to her knees and moved behind him to examine it more closely. It was a brambly mess. She palpated the skin around the wound.
“Is it painful?”
“Just a bit.”
She reached into her bag and pulled out a small pot of comfrey salve and a tiny bottle of willow tincture. “I wish I had some alcohol to wash it off.” She was about to reach for the water bag when Sigel handed her his flask.
She smelled the contents. Whiskey. “This will do.” She hoped.
“It was to be a surprise for us tonight, but if you need some for the lad’s cuts, although for the life of me I can’t see why, you’re welcome to it.”
“I only need a small amount of antiseptic…” Both men look confused. “To clean out any germs,” she explained. Now they look more confused. She gave up. “Adding a drop of willow will make you more comfortable, Silas.” As she cleaned and medicated the cut, she directed her thoughts to its healing, visualizing the skin returning to its normal integrity. She tied a piece of fabric around his shoulder and under his arm to keep the area covered.
“I can’t be wearing this contraption,” he complained. “It’ll drive me crazy.”
“Just for tonight, to allow the salve to soak in. I’ll remove it in the morning. Now, to the nettles.” Reaching into her bag again, she pulled out her wooden comb. Sitting back against the wall, she spread her legs apart and patted in between them. “Sit here, Silas, so I can work on your hair.”
He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
“It will be easier for me to reach.”
He scooted between her legs. “How’s that?”
He turned to look at her and winked wickedly. She slapped his good shoulder lightly with the comb and turned him back around.
With Dara sitting beside her, his head on her upper thigh, she began to tease Silas’ hair apart and pull out the tiny burrs and knots. She tried to remain impassive, but the feel of his hair in her hands and his body settled so intimately against hers was hard to ignore. Eventually she gave up the effort and allowed herself the guilty pleasure.
Sigel took a long pull from the flask and passed it around. “We’ll have to go easy with this, kids. We still have to stay alert.”
Silas took a swig. “Maker, that’s good. Where’d you steal it?” He offered the whiskey to Briana.
“Hugh McPhee made sure I had some for the road.”
“Well, I’m grateful.”
Briana stopped her work for a moment and tipped the container to her lips. Honeyed spice burned going down. “Nice,” she croaked.
Her companions laughed.
“Not much of drinker are you?” Sigel asked.
“I enjoy a beer or glass of wine with the best of them, but I’ve not had much whiskey, though I could get used to it, I think.”
The whiskey created a warm, companionable silence in the cave. Silas kept letting his head fall back against her, occasionally eliciting a growl from Dara until she pushed him forward again. When the burrs were removed, she combed out his hair.
Mmm, that feels good, a mhuirnin.
Her heart lurched and a shiver ran through her body. She kept combing and stroking long after the tangles were gone and Silas had fallen asleep.
I wish we could stay like this forever, was her last conscious thought.
Chapter Seventeen
The Battle of Ardghal
Briana sat up and shivered in the cold. Silas slept a chaste distance away under his kilt and Sigel hunkered like a gargoyle at the entrance of the cave, barely visible in the gray mushy light of another overcast day.
Hearing her move, Sigel turned. “Well, it’s not pouring,” he said, without lowering his voice.
“Huh, what?” Silas mumbled, stretching his long limbs.
Briana smiled at his tousled hair and sleep-heavy eyes. When a lock of hair fell across has face, she fought not to push it back.
“Silas, let me take a look at that cut and hopefully take the dressing off,” she said instead, getting to her feet and stretching out the kinks in her own body.
“No hopefully about it. It’s comin’ off. I can’t stand it.”
“Oh, stop whining,” she teased, as she moved next to him and eased his hair away from his neck. Lifting the bandage, she saw it had healed a lot last night. Healthy pink tissue without a sign of infection. Medicine or magic? Either way, it was healing well, so she rolled the bandage and put it in her bag, hoping to wash and reuse it another time. Things like bandages didn’t come easy in this world.
Sigel handed them each fruit and bread and offered Dara some dried meat, which went down in two gulps. She stroked the dog fondly. “Stay with me, Dara. No running off.”
She caught the men’s anxious glances. “Aye,” Sigel said to Briana. “Pay attention and be ready for anything.”
She did her best to present a sober and battle-ready demeanor. “We will.” She patted Nuada. Sigel studied her, searching out something in her eyes. “I’m okay, Sigel. Really. I’m ready.”
He took a deep breath. “Maker, I hope so.”
The trail away from the cave grew narrower and narrower, winding down the side of a ravine to the top of Lake Ardghal. Briana struggled a little, trying to balance the need to focus on small details, like finding tree limbs strong enough to hold her as she scrambled down over steep sections, with the need to be vigilant about everything else in her environment. It was like trying to blend monocular vision into binocular vision, and she found it tiring. Dara also became a source of concern to her. She kept looking back to find him.
When they reached a flatter spot and stopped for a moment to rest, Silas came up behind her. “I’ve got my eye on the gray lad; you look after yourself.” She smiled her appreciation and they kept going. Sigel led. She and Dara followed in the middle, with Silas behind them. Switchbacks took them down the side of the mountain, offering occasional glimpses of the deceptively beautiful valley below. Nothing happened as they continued the descent, but when they found themselves at a gap between two mountains, the hair went up on the back of her neck at the sight of another heart-stoppingly narrow trail, this one a couple of hundred feet above the lake. Falling would be fatal. The ridge would put them out in the open and unprotected. Silas lifted his bow and nocked an arrow.
Something else was wrong; she could feel it.
“I don’t know what’s out there, but something doesn’t feel right,” Sigel said. “We need to cross this and find the fort. Cath Ardghal isn’t much, but it’s the best defensive position nearby. Have sword and shield at the ready. I’ll go first. Briana, you follow, as quickly as you can safely, and do not stop. For any reason. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.” She was already untying her shield and finding the balance with it and the sword in her other hand.
“Silas, you and Dara will come last, aye?”
Silas contemplated Briana with concern.
“Stop worrying about me or it will slow us down,” she said. “When the time comes, I’ll be ready and so will Nua.”
“You think so, Briana,” Silas replied, “and I admire your ferocity, but if you’ve never seen battle, never seen violence and death, you don’t understand. And everythin’ happens so fast. You haven’t the experience for it yet, so I am worried.”
“I have seen battle. If you recall, that’s how we met.”
“A skirmish. This might be much worse.”
“Well, it’s a moot point, isn’t it? We must keep going and hope I can manage.”
“That’s about the truth of it,” Sigel agreed impatiently. “So, let’s move.”
She and Silas exchanged a look.
You better not die today, she thought.
None of us dies today, a mhuirnin.
“Ready?” asked Sigel. He took a deep breath and moved out on the cliff trail. She could only imagine what this felt like for him. She went deep into herself to call up protection, which came in the form of imagining a solid ledge, much wider than the one they crossed. She willed Sigel across this ledge easily and unharmed. Once across, he turned to her, his face pale and unreadable, and beckoned her to come.
She glanced back at Silas, who held his bow steady, aimed over and ahead of her. He was totally focused but managed an encouraging wink. “Go quick, a mhuirnin; don’t stop.”
Filling her lungs and concentrating on the ground under her feet, she dashed out and made her way across as speedily as she dared. In the middle of the traverse, her foot hit a stone, which sent he
r a bit off-kilter. She dipped dangerously toward the edge. Gulping, she righted herself and continued on with no more than a second’s pause, Dara right behind her. She held her breath when Silas headed over. He darted across like a mountain lion, sweeping his bow in front and up as he ran. While it had taken Sigel and Briana a full minute to make it across, Silas made it in seconds. As his foot touched solid ground, a whizzing sound broke the silence and a spray of blood shot out from his shoulder.
“Silas!”
“I’m fine! Keep moving! Shield up!”
She obeyed, staying close to Sigel as they headed for the protection of the trees on the other side of the ridge, trusting that Silas and Dara were behind her.
They ran down the steep trail as fast as they could. Sigel paused. Briana caught up to him, gasping. Before she caught her breath, Silas joined them. Briana started to turn back the collar of Silas’ shirt to see his injury, but he waved her off.
