As Brie stared up at the stars, Collun came to sit beside her. He offered a small skin bag. Brie took it and drank; the liquid lit the back of her throat and she began to cough. Collun patted her on the back.
"Sorry. I guess I should have warned you."
"What is it?" Brie sputtered.
"Aelwyn calls it neno. They make it in her village. Have another sip; it grows on you."
Brie tried another, and this time the drink was smoother, though still fiery going down her throat.
"Brie, may I ask you something?"
"Of course."
Collun took the skin bag and swallowed some neno. He cleared his throat. "Do you journey to face the man Balor so that you may complete your revenge?"
Brie was silent. She gazed down at her hands. The silence grew long.
"Brie," Collun commanded.
She looked up at him, meeting his gaze directly. "No."
Collun searched her face
"In the bog..." She halted a moment, then went on. "Well, after the bog I realized it was gone—the hatred—all of it had drained away, like pus from a wound, as if the bog itself swallowed it."
"Then why?" Collun asked simply.
"Why do I journey with the Dungalan army? I have told myself it is^ because Eirren is in as much danger from Balor as Dungal. But it is not enough. Perhaps it is the arrow that has ensorcelled me or whatever you call it..." She smiled. "Or because of my great-grandmother ... It was she who gave my mother the arrow to give to me. Perhaps I am doing Seila's will. I only know it is something I must do."
At dawn, before the scouting party was to depart, Brie went to find Sago. He was sitting peacefully by the river's edge. She was pleased to see a faint color in the sorcerer's cheeks. When he had first ridden up on his fat pony, he had looked more of death than of life, like a horse that had been ridden too long by too harsh a master.
Sago had made a rough fishing pole out of a length of rope attached to a stick. He had caught nothing with his makeshift pole, but there was peace in his face. And, for once, he did not burst into rhyme when Brie sat beside him.
"Look what I found today," he said, setting down his pole. Out of his amhantar he pulled a buckleberry nut, which gleamed a warm brown in his palm. Then he held out his other hand, and nestled in that palm was the moon shell.
"Not so very different after all," he said, tracing the whorls on the surface of each with his finger.
"No," Brie agreed.
"I have missed much," Sago spoke pensively, "being so much of the sea. Now I see why Yldir chose to live out his life in the bog. Oh, yes, I am enjoying this." He gestured at the trees, the river, the grass.
"I am glad, Sago," Brie responded, then added, "I take a scouting party north, but will return soon."
"And then it is off to battle-o, with a hey ho and a nonny nonny no!" He gave her a wink, then picked up his fishing stick and expertly cast the line.
Brie smiled and left him by the river.
The scouting party departed soon after and traveled through the day, moving stealthily and keeping watch for any sign of gabha patrols. They stopped late at night for rest and food, though they did not light a campfire. The others slept, but Brie was restless.
She had been avoiding the fire arrow for the past several days. She did not know if it was her imagination, but lately when she touched the arrow, the fire in her veins raged stronger and her eyesight blurred. And the effects seemed to linger longer. It made her feel more than ever as if the arrow was taking hold of her.
But tonight the urge to hold it was strong. She picked up her quiver and moved away from the campsite. The surface of the arrow was warm, hot even, the heat pulsing against her skin and traveling up her arm. She shut her eyelids against the heat.
Goat-men, a hundred of them, maybe more, marching through the mountains: the Mountains of Marwol, between Scath and Dungal. And just beyond the mountain pass they approached was the descent into Dungal, the sea glittering beyond. On the edge of the white shoreline lay a lovely sparkling jewel of a fortress. Sedd Wydyr. The crystal castle. Just beyond the bluff on which the fortress stood stretched the line of rocks that looked like a sea serpent.
To the north and the east of the castle was arrayed an army of goat-men, perhaps three times the size of the reinforcements marching toward them.
The pictures faded and Brie slumped against a tree, resting her flaming cheek against the rough bark.
So much for scouting parties, Brie thought dully, the fire still thrumming along her veins. She tried opening her eyes, but as had happened before, her vision was blurred. Breathing deeply, she blindly guided the now-cool fire arrow back into her quiver.
Balor has laid his plans nicely, Brie thought: sending sumog and the dry wind to break the back of the Dungalans' livelihood; then a murderous assault on the royal dun to remove the country's leaders; and finally a large army of killers to overrun the country. What kind of fight would there be left in the people of Dungal after a harsh winter and a summer of starvation and fear, especially with no ruler to rally them? Balor's army would sweep through Dungal like a deadly plague, picking off villages one by one.
And what have we to counter it, she thought, but this tiny patchwork army? It was like constructing a fence of straws to stop a rampaging herd of bulls.
Suddenly she saw him. Balor was seated at a table in a room high up in his crystal castle, looking out over the sea and drinking a liquid the color of rubies from a frosted goblet.
There was a knock, and Balor serenely lowered his glass, welcoming into the room a large goat-man with matted white hair and bulging eyes. The goat-man's face had more of man in it than the other gabha Brie had- seen, but he had grotesque corkscrew horns spiraling out of his forehead.
Balor led the goat-man, whom he called Cernu, to a white marble table covered with a map of Dungal. With his finger, Balor traced a route through Dungal. The goat-man listened intently, nodding several times. They spoke for several more minutes, then the goat-man left the room, carrying the map.
Balor strode to the window. Gazing out at the sea, he smiled and lifted the glass to his lips. But suddenly his eyes narrowed and his movement was arrested. He turned his head and seemed to look directly at Brie, an intent, listening expression on his handsome face. He reached up and lifted the eye-patch from his white eye. Brie's breath stopped. Had he seen her? She did not know how these seeings or visions worked. Was it like a mirror that suddenly became a window? Because she saw him, could he now see her? She reached out her hands as if to somehow close the shutters of the window between them.
Balor shook his head with a puzzled frown, replaced his eye-patch, and turned to look back out the window of his crystal castle. Once again he raised the glass to his lips. Then the picture was gone.
In a haze Brie realized the picture had come without her holding the arrow, like the time in the tower when she had seen Collun. Only this picture had been clearer; this time she had even been able to hear the voices, though she could make out only a word here and there. The draoicht the arrow had been kindling in her was strong now. But had Balor seen her?
"Brie?"
She blinked. She could not see.
Collun sat beside her. "What is wrong?"
"The arrow. It, um, does something to my eyes..." She trailed off, then said loudly, "I saw them, Collun. Hundreds of them, goat-men at Sedd Wydyr. And more soon to come, through a mountain pass. We have three days, at most, before they reach Balor's stronghold. And when they do, his army will begin its march."
NINETEEN
Fire Rain
Collun was silent. Brie could not see the expression on his face. She blinked rapidly and rubbed her eyes, then stood, putting her hand in front of her. "Uffern!" she cursed. Collun guided her back to the campsite. She could feel Fara against her legs, and as they walked, the blur began to ease. Soon she was able to see clearly again.