Ladran was gone on an errand to a neighboring town from late morning until sundown. As she helped Rilla with chores around the farmhold, Brie found the young farmwife to be very reserved, but then she asked her about Dungal and Rilla's reticence evaporated. Her soft voice became animated as she spoke of her family in the fishing village of Ardara; of the fishing boat called Storm Petrel, on which her father would go out every morning; and of the times, remembered with an acute longing, that Rilla had joined her father on the boat. As Rilla spoke, Brie could almost feel the rough wooden planks of the Storm Petrel under her bare feet and the spray on her face.
"Why did you leave?" Brie asked.
Rilla's face closed. "I married Ladran. He has been a good husband to me," she said tonelessly, and after that she would not speak more of Dungal.
Later, as Brie swept the hearth and Rilla made preserves out of gooseberries, Brie felt as though she was being watched. She turned to find Rilla gazing intently at her. The look on her face was strange, as if she were watching a story unfold. Then she gave a little nod and a smile, and returned to the stirring of the simmering berries.
When Rilla took out her panner work that night, she set aside the one of her father and began a new miniature. She worked on it with great concentration, seemingly unaware of the conversation going on around her. And she placed her hand over it whenever anyone came near.
Ladran also seemed distracted that night, though he made a great commotion about giving Brie directions through the Blue Stacks. After making sure the wooden table was free of crumbs, he laid out a square of muslin. Carefully he drew a map of Beirthoud's Pass on the cloth. His directions were clear, and he went slowly to make sure Brie followed as he traced the way through twisting mountain paths.
He didn't offer to walk Brie to the barn as he had the night before. Brie thanked the couple for dinner, saying she would stop in to bid them farewell in the morning before she left.
As Brie crossed to the barn she was startled by a sudden loud bray. It sounded like a goat. She couldn't remember seeing goats among the animals in Ladran's farmhold. Apprehensively, she looked around in the darkness but saw nothing.
Brie slept fitfully. After several hours she woke. The animals in the barn were restless; a cow lowed uneasily. Brie was filled with a strong desire to see the fire arrow. She pulled her quiver toward her and encircled the shaft with her fingers. It was warm. She fell asleep again, her hand still on the arrow.
She awoke suddenly what seemed a few minutes later. The arrow was white-hot on her fingers.
SIX
The Mountains
Brie let go of the arrow with a cry of pain, realizing at the same moment that she smelled smoke. She heard crackling and was aware of a wild unnatural flutter of light in the barn. The hayloft at the other end of the barn was aflame. Brie leaped to her feet, shoving the arrow into her quiver.
The barn was filled with the grunts, yelps, squeaks, and howls of terrified animals, A squealing pig slammed against Brie's legs and she was almost knocked flat. The fire had snaked its way along the hay-strewn floor, cutting Brie off from the door. Although Brie had purposely left the barn door ajar before going to her pallet, it was now shut tight.
The heat and smoke thickened. Coughing, she rummaged in her pack for a kerchief, which she quickly clamped over her nose and mouth. Then she scanned the wall behind her. There was a small open window set just above the top of her head.
Brie shoved a bale of hay under the window, and climbed onto the straw; she lifted her pack and stuffed it through the opening. The heat of the fire beat against her skin and smoke clogged her throat. Maddened animals jostled against the bale she stood on as they tried desperately to escape the flames.
As Brie hoisted her body to the window, the bale underneath her feet ignited. Kicking out at the burning hay, she swung her body up and through the window. She dropped heavily, then darted around to the front of the barn to let the animals out. She had just lifted the wooden bar and begun to pull open the large door when a large, foul-smelling creature sprang on her from behind. Its fur-matted arm wound around her throat, jerking her head back in a choke hold. Gasping, Brie desperately groped for the quiver slung across her back. The arm was like iron around her neck, immovable, and Brie felt herself weakening. Suddenly a swarm of animals burst out of the flaming barn, and the creature's arm was knocked loose. Brie reached into her quiver and grabbed hold of the red-hot fire arrow.
The painful heat on her fingers startled her, but she held fast and swiftly plunged the arrow into the creature's neck. Her attacker let out a scream, falling heavily to the ground. There was the rank smell of burnt flesh. Brie pulled the arrow out of the creature's neck and quickly thrust it back into her quiver.
Brie had a fleeting glimpse of the goatish face and dead bulging eyes before she heard Rilla's voice calling her name. The girl was running toward her, blood flowing down the side of her face. When she reached Brie, Rilla's eyes rolled up under her eyelids and she collapsed. Brie dropped to her knees beside the farmwife. Rilla's copper-colored hair was soaked with blood. Brie found the wound and laid her hand on it as she tore off her tunic. Wadding it up, Brie held the cloth to the girl's head.
Rilla gazed up at her. "When you ... go to Dungal ... tell my father good-bye." Rilla's small hand pressed something into Brie's palm. "Pob hwyl," the girl said, smiling. Rilla's eyelids closed. She began, to speak softly. "Ladran ... the mountains...," she whispered, then stopped. Brie leaned closer; Rilla was dead.
Suddenly Brie heard guttural shouts and, hugging her pack to her chest, she sprinted across the yard. She spotted a large bag of feed leaning up against a feeding trough and she dropped to her stomach, squeezing herself into the small space between the bag and the trough. She could just barely see three figures run into the yard. They found their fallen companion and immediately separated to search for his killer. Brie's heart thudded unevenly against her ribs. Clutched in her hand was the small object Rilla had given her. It was a panner. Without looking at it, Brie stuffed the wooden disk into her pocket and made herself as small as she could under the bag of feed.
One of the gabha found Rilla's body. It leaned over the fallen girl, gave the body a kick to make sure she was dead, and then turned toward the house.
As the goat-man came closer to Brie, she could see its features clearly for the first time. Its face was a horrible mangled blend of man and goat: man-lips, jutting goatteeth, and a long black tongue that flicked in and out. The eyes were almost fishlike, set on the sides of its head, but they protruded, oval shaped and malevolent, with an enormous black iris and a clear white dot of a pupil in the center. And while most goats' faces are stupid, almost grandfatherly, this one bore a cunning and brutal expression. On its lower body the goat-man wore the skin of a goat; its arms, shoulders, and neck, as well as its face, were thickly covered with hair. Swinging from a belt at the creature's waist were what looked to be parts of a real goat—feet, ears, even an organ that could have been a heart. Brie shuddered. The goat-man walked past without seeing her.
Then she saw Ladran emerge from the house. Catching sight of Rilla's body, he let out a high keening sound and ran at the gabha.
The creature knocked Ladran down with a single blow. Brie watched as the farmer lay on the ground, tears running from his eyes. The goat-man put a foot—or was it a hoof?—on Ladran's neck and seemed to ask a question. Ladran shook his head. The gabha drew a blade and swiftly, brutally, stabbed Ladran through the heart.
The gabha was soon joined by his companions, and they proceeded to torch the remaining buildings, including the house. Brie lay very still under the bag of pig feed. She closed her eyes as the gabha chased down and slaughtered the terrified farm animals. Finally they rode off on their goatlike steeds, animal carcasses draped over the beasts' hindquarters, each gabha braying in triumph.