by Heidi Hanley
Briana nodded. “We’ll do our best.”
When they went back outside, warrior-queen Briana met an approving smile from Silas, who was watering Aldebaran at a trough and talking with several people from the other families living in the “village.”
He made brief introductions with an apology for their abrupt departure. The tenants offered bits of advice and encouragement for the journey ahead. After a warm hug to the O’Braoin boys and thank you to their mother, he swung into the saddle and assisted Briana up behind him.
“Feel better?”
“Much.”
Then they were off again, on high alert for the danger they knew was “lurkin’ about.” They rode through a mature forest of old oaks, tall ashes and old tangled yews. Up ahead she could see younger trees and some evergreens among the ancients, with an occasional thicket of rowans, the scrubby kind that was more bush than tree. Silas pointed to the rowans.
If you need to hide, go in the rowans. They provide good cover, but you won’t get tangled up in them if you’re chased.
Briana nodded, sobered by his warning. After a few moments, she asked, Should we tie up our hair?
Good idea. He stopped Aldebaran. Briana hastily knotted his hair and then secured her own.
They heard the battle before they saw anything: blood-curdling war cries, screams of pain and rage, metal clanging against metal as swords and axes met. “An arrow,” Silas prompted, and she pulled one out and passed it to him. He reined in Aldebaran, picked up his bow and nocked the arrow. He looked at her. “You have no weapon.”
She shrugged. “I’ll find one.”
He looked worried. She shook her head. “Don’t. We’ll do the best we can.”
With that, they raced through the trees into an open meadow and utter chaos. Expecting a staggering imbalance between the Gray Military and their own army, she was stunned by the number of men who now fought for Uisneach. The noise was deafening, the ground littered with a tangled mess of blood and bone. The overwhelming stench made Briana’s eyes water.
Off to their left, on the meadow’s western edge, a large rock outcropping near a few scattered pines and a thicket of rowan would provide good cover. Two more outcroppings directly ahead of them, one almost due north, the other off to the right a bit.
See that opening in the woods over there? Silas asked, gesturing with his chin to the northwest. That’s the way to Ard Darach.
With more fighting to the west, Briana thought it would be safer to take the long way around, using the two boulder piles as cover. She was about to suggest that to Silas when a group of Grays over to the west shifted, revealing Captain O’Rourke.
A Gray head-butted the captain and rocked him back on his heels. Briana grimaced. The captain rolled out of the way as the soldier’s broadsword stabbed the earth where he had lain dazed a split second before.
There! Straight ahead! said Silas.
Heavy fighting in the center of the field kept her from seeing whatever it was that Silas had pointed out for several minutes. Then a man dropped to the ground, and she saw Sigel fighting a Gray.
“He’s got Nuada!” she exclaimed.
Silas gestured toward some bushy rowan trees off to their right, not far ahead. “Wait in there, and I’ll get your sword.”
She swung down and scrambled into the thicket, which obstructed her view, but hid her from the enemy. Though frustrated, she promised herself she’d wait a full five minutes before figuring out a way to join the battle. She was just about to leave her hiding place when Silas spoke. She tore her way out and gripped Nuada’s hilt as he handed it to her. Instant heat and strength traveled up her arm and through her body, settling in her core.
“She’s glad to be reunited,” Silas said, as the shimmer of energy raced down the sword into Briana. When it settled, he gave her the shield. “I can’t find Jonathan or Dara, but Sigel says they’re here somewhere.”
“What about Epona?”
“She’s over there.” He pointed north, near the middle rock outcropping and a large pine tree. Again, Briana had to wait for a break in the battle to spot Epona, who was holding her own against a soldier twice her size. Silas gave a command to Aldebaran, who stepped away and stood quietly. Follow me, he said, circling around to the right, just as she thought they would. Pulling Briana between two pines, he said, “Stay behind me. We’ll keep a position here for as long as we can. Watch me back, aye?”
She nodded, raising Nua to protect him. Silas released arrows with rapid-fire precision. Several men dropped, grabbed limbs, screamed or just fell instantly dead. There was horrible beauty in his skill; she thanked Maker he was on her side. Briana scanned the battlefield and the surrounding woods for her young protector.
“Damn it,” Silas swore, throwing his empty quiver on the ground, “I’m out of arrows. We’ve got to use swords.” He gave her a concerned look. “We’ve no choice, darlin’; I can’t leave you unprotected and I can’t stay out of this. We fight together. Ready?”
“Absolutely,” she said with more conviction than she felt. “I beat the lord marshall, remember? I can do this.”
“Aye, you can,” he agreed, sounding less convinced than she. His battle yell chilled her as together, they flew into the conflict. Sword swinging, he connected with a man on either side of him, taking one’s head clean off and creating an abdominal gash in the other that would surely send his soul to hell before the end of the day. She copied his example with less precision, but fortunately, fewer targets. Nua’s magic saved her more than a few times. With gore flying all around her, and worry over her comrades consuming her, it took all her presence of mind to continue the search for Jonathan.
Instead, she found Sigel, spattered in the red, brown and gray muck of battle, up against two beefy, screeching men. Briana reacted instinctively. Leaving the protection of Silas’ sword, she snuck up behind them and plunged Nua into the back of the one trying to run a dagger through Sigel. Shrieking like a banshee, the wounded man gyrated in her direction, close enough to tear a slice in her forearm. Wincing at the sting of the slight flesh wound, she ducked to give Sigel the opportunity to embed his blade into the wounded giant. Sigel kicked the man loose to the ground while simultaneously ducking underneath the axe of the other man. In a pirouette that would honor the most prima of ballerinas, he came around the soldier’s rear, stole his weapon and cut him off at the knees with his own sword.
“Thanks, Briana, now get the hell out of here!” he shouted, fiercely, but there was no mistaking the look of relief in his eyes at seeing her in one piece.
For a second, she was tempted to head toward Epona, but the other rocks were closer, and she had to keep herself safe. Without her, they’d fail. Briana sprinted for all she was worth, her heart pounding. Once safely behind the rocks, she had a moment to think. What’s the best thing I can do here? Magic, she thought, but I’ve never done a protection spell before. It can’t be that hard, right? Not daring to close her eyes, she imagined the battlefield as a real-time ríocht board, with each one of the king’s men moving through with a veil of protection over them. Let safety surround us and justice guide us. Let our swords swing true and evil be turned away. May it be so. She had no idea if the words would help or not, nor if the protection would last for more than a few minutes, but she allowed them to flow through her mind along with a silver light surrounding Sigel, Silas, Epona and all the others, so dear to her. Except one, whom she could not find anywhere.
Where are you, Mr. Stark?
A familiar bark caught her attention. Dara stood near the rock formation across the field, to the west. She covered him in protection, as well. Had he found Jonathan? Was the poor boy injured? Why had she let Sigel convince her to bring him along? He was only a child! Back in her time, they’d call this a war crime, forcing a child to be a soldier. Briana couldn’t stand it. Taking a deep breath, she advanced through the melee toward the dog, praying she’d find Jonathan, too.
Waylaid by several Grays, she was r
elieved that no matter how hard they tried, their weapons did not penetrate her enchantment. At least for a time. The skirmish waged on around her, forcing her to deflect and counterattack repeatedly, while attempting, with little success, to revive the enchantment.
A deep growl alerted her to danger. A bullish man was coming at her on a dead run, axe swinging, murderous intention blazoned on his face. She raised her shield in defense, but had no time to respond. A flash of curly blonde hair swooped in front of her. Jonathan Stark screamed, his battle cry boyishly high-pitched, as he flew at the giant with his small weapon.
“Jonathan!” Briana screamed as the huge axe came down on the boy and he fell. Dara soared over her head. She shrank from a spray of blood. The hulking monster took a few more steps before he also fell, in a heap at her feet, with Dara’s teeth sunk into his neck. She had no idea whose blood covered her, or who was dead and who alive. “Back, Dara,” she yelled, as she shoved Nua into her trousers, tucked her shield under her arm, and began pulling Jonathan toward a copse of rowan trees beyond the rocks. Dara, for the first time ever, ignored her command and took the boy’s shirt in his mouth, helping Briana pull him out of the fight. Three men from the Ratskillen contingent formed a protective barrier between them and the combat. They made their way through the young trees to a group of dense bushes. Once safely hidden, she rolled the boy over on his back. A sharp gash bled down the side of his face, horrible, but not life-threatening. More worrisome was the bump on his head and the fact that he was not conscious.
“Jonathan, wake up!” She lightly slapped at his good cheek a couple of times before his eyes fluttered open. He tried to sit up, but his eyes lolled back and he sank back down.
“Got to go back and help,” he moaned.
“You’ll help best, Mr. Stark, by staying still. You saved my life – there’s nothing more for you to do.”
The young man smiled dreamily. She wished she had ice to put on the rapidly swelling contusion and worried that this would progress to a more serious brain injury.
Briana, where the hell are you?
In the woods with Jonathan, behind the big rocks on the western edge. I think I need some help here.
On my way. Don’t move!
Waiting wasn’t an option. The boy needed help now. Hearing the sound of a brook, she poked around the copse until she found it, only about fifty feet from where he lay unconscious. A few scraggly bushes along the bank would offer a bit of cover. If she could drag Jonathan there, she could position his head in the cold water, which might help. She glanced at the slice on her arm and shook her head with both relief and irritation. It was nothing, but she washed it and tore a piece of cloth from her tunic to tie around it, to prevent infection.
Briana went back to the boy and looked through the trees at the field at the fighting, which raged on with no sign of stopping. Sigel looked to be making a good dent in the number of combatants they had to deal with. Silas was fighting his way through to her, but by the looks of it, it would take him longer than she wanted to wait. No bad guys were paying attention to the woods. If the protection spell lasts, I could probably do this myself. Briana stared at Jonathan thoughtfully. Was there a better way to move him? This time, she laid her shield on top of the boy’s chest and Nua on top of it. Close enough to reach, if necessary, and she wouldn’t have to drop her shield to draw Nua.
“Dara, do you think you could help me drag him again?” She motioned the dog next to her, and he gently took the boy’s shirt in his mouth. Slowly, vigilant for trouble, they hauled Jonathan to the brook, where she positioned his head in the water to relieve the swelling. His eyes opened intermittently. She kept talking to him, trying unsuccessfully to keep him awake. She also visualized his healing, imagining the bump reducing and the gash closing. Briana cleansed the slice on his cheek and realized it would heal fine without stitches but would leave a nice scar, one he would no doubt be proud of, as a symbol of his bravery in saving the queen. She studied him, her heart full of love for this man-child, and prayed she would have the chance to see him grow to manhood. Clashing swords and resounding screams echoed in her head, but she remained focused on Jonathan.
A lone combatant stumbled into the copse. She settled into a ready stance and raised Nua to strike. He didn’t see her at first, seemed more concerned with running from the fight than searching for any of the king’s men. He looked shocked when he saw her, then afraid.
“As well you should be, traitor,” she said.
Without preamble he ran at her, sloppily swiping his sword in her direction. Nua responded, its energy coursing into Briana’s body as the full length of the blade glowed. One fierce arc with Nua took his head and ended his treachery. Briana twisted aside in time to miss most of the jetting fountain of blood from the bloody stump atop his shoulders. The body dropped in front of her. Briana stared, amazed and sickened by what she’d just done.
“Sweet Maker, woman, why can’t you ever just follow directions?” Silas asked, as he rushed to her side, his sword pointed at where the man’s head would have been. “Did I, or did I not, tell you to wait?”
“Couldn’t,” she said, breathlessly. “Needed to get Jonathan to this brook. You… were… busy.” She looked grimly at the mangled corpse in front of her. “I hate doing that.”
“Aye, well, I’m glad you did.” He looked over at Jonathan. “He’s not…”
“He’s alive, but probably has a concussion.” Noting Silas’ look of ignorance, she started to explain the effects of blunt-force trauma to the brain. “Never mind,” she said, realizing they didn’t have time for a first aid lesson. “He’ll be fine.”
“And what about your arm?”
“Just a scrape.”
As they were talking, the boy began to moan and opened his eyes again. “Milady, are you all right?” He sat up, hair dripping.
“I’m fine, sir. You, on the other hand, took an awful whack to the head.” She moved next to him and examined the area, pleased to find the knobby bump somewhat reduced.
“I’m sorry I didn’t stop them from kidnapping you. It’s all my fault.” He ran a hand through his hair and winced when he came in contact with the tender lump.
“Nonsense. We were all paralyzed by his spell; there was nothing you could have done. Anyway, in this ruckus, you actually did save my life, and got hurt in the process. I’ll thank you for that later.”
With a contented grin, he fell back, closed his eyes and slipped back into oblivion.
“Don’t you need to get back out there?” she asked Silas.
“I’m to guard you.”
While he was her front line of defense, she and Dara were Jonathan’s. Briana positioned herself, Nua in hand, between him and Silas. Two Uisneach men joined Silas and made a three-point guard around her and the boy.
“Really, Silas, I can handle this. You ought to be out there with the others.”
“We are…”
A cacophony of cawing cut off his reply. Overhead, the sun was temporarily obliterated by a black cloud of whirring wings, hundreds of crows. Briana and Silas followed their trajectory over the field. They began transforming in the midst of landing. With this reinforcement, the Gray Military was now outnumbered, and the skirmish that had been raging for hours ended in minutes. Across the field lay a masterpiece of destruction. There would be no prisoners to worry about.
More disturbing and hard to comprehend was the sudden re-shifting of the crows into their avian form, followed quickly by a carnivorous frenzy. She turned to Silas, wobbling a little. “Are they…”
“They dispose of the carrion,” was all he said, turning her away from the grisly scene.
Before she could dwell on that, their own wounded staggered toward them. A few men showed up with cuts and scrapes. After determining that Jonathan was stable, she riffled through an abandoned pack for supplies. Briana tended as best she could to the others, cleaning and applying salve to their wounds. She lost track of time as she worked.
“He’s the last,” said Silas, helping a young man who wasn’t much older than Jonathan toward her. He had a gash across his shoulder.
“It needs stitching,” she told him, “but we’ll have to make do with a bandage.” She did her best to bind the edges together with a clean cloth and sling the arm, adding a dose of healing visualization as she worked.
“Thank ye, milady. That’ll do just fine.”
“At least until we reach the castle. I do want you to see Cailleach at some point. She can sew it up for you. Any men unaccounted for?” she asked.
“Not as many of ours were killed. Only a handful.”
“Good, then. Well done,” she said, not knowing what else to say in this situation. One loss of life was too great for her, but he sounded rather pleased with the outcome. “Have a drink and find somewhere to rest until we leave again.” He offered her a smile and something akin to a thumbs-up sign, and went off to recover.
He was replaced with a shorter man in a bloodied kilt. “I believe, milady,” he said, with a huge smile, “that you are wearing me clothes.”
She looked down at her borrowed outfit and back at him, finding her own wide smile. “You must be Malachy O’Braoin.”
The small, wiry man bowed so low his head nearly swept the ground. “At your service, and I must say, me clothes look better on you than they do on meself.”
She laughed and noted how absurd that sounded on the edge of a battlefield. “Thank you, Mr. O’Braoin, for the clothes. I would’ve hated to do what I’ve been doing in a dress.”
Epona came through the trees, unharmed, leading Aquila and Banrion. Throwing an arm around Briana, she greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so relieved to see you, Briana. What the hell happened?”
“It’s a long story, but I’m okay, and happy to see you, as well.”
Sigel entered the copse with Orion and Andromeda. He was bloody, his shirt torn, his face lined with fatigue. He tossed the reins to Malachy and put a hand out to stop Briana from going to her mare. “You,” he said, roughly, “and you,” he said, pointing to Silas, “with me.”
