Brie's hand smarted, and she briefly glanced down at the webbing of tiny blisters already appearing on her palm. Then she crouched beside Hanna. The older woman had a knife wound in her side, but she was conscious. Quickly Brie pulled her a short distance from the fighting, to a clearing alongside a clump of sea grass.
Spotting Collun, Brie called out to him. He ran up and checked Hanna over, binding her wound. Hanna weakly protested that she was fine, ready to return to battle. Brie shook her head decisively.
Looking out at the ragtag Dungalan army, Brie's heart constricted. They were weakening. Most had borne at least one wound and all were exhausted, their faces pale under the blood and dirt. So far they had lost only a handful of soldiers, but it was only a matter of time, Brie thought, before it would be many more. Her own clothing was soaked with blood, though most of it gabha, and her body ached with fatigue. Ordering the older woman to stay put, she and Collun returned to battle. The sun was directly overhead.
Ciaran and the faol came to Brie. Wearily the girl mounted the Ellyl horse. Ciaran reared, letting out a whinny that sounded like a war cry. Brie heard the words "fire arrow" burn inside her head, and she was not sure if they came from Ciaran or from the arrow itself, but she drew herself up. She grasped the shaft of. the fire arrow and held it aloft. It still burned against her hand, but as she held it high the fire arrow began to send out a yellow light, like a sort of beacon.
Then Ciaran plunged into the ranks of the gabha army.
Brie wielded the arrow with a relentless, stupefied violence. The gabha were living creatures to her no more, merely targets to be burned and obliterated. The arrow was practically fused to her hand under a mat of blisters and oozing flesh. She marveled at the strength of the shaft, like a peerless war blade tempered in the finest forge.
The gabha were spooked by the arrow and fell away in droves. And the sight of their Bren-huan wielding the fire arrow gave the Dungalans new heart.
The heat from the arrow seemed to have set Brie's whole body aflame and her arm was desperately tired, yet propelled by flame and pain and sheer stubbornness, she fought on. At one point she remembered dismounting Ciaran, because she noticed a nasty slashing burn across the horse's right flank. Ciaran protested, but Brie ignored her. She sliced and torched with her arrow-sword, while Ciaran and Fara stayed beside her, fighting with their hooves and claws and teeth.
"Brie," she heard through the searing haze of flame and smoke. It was Lom; he had laid a hand on her arm. Brie stared back at Lom, barely recognizing him. Smoldering bodies lay around her in heaps.
"'Tis time for retreating," Lom said almost gently, his face gaunt with fatigue. "Come." He pulled Brie through the lines, Ciaran following. The sun was low in the gray-orange sky.
Only then did Brie realize that the gabha had retreated. Cernu was marshaling his troops, to reorganize and to calm the goat-men's fear of the maiden bearing fire in her hand.
In a daze Brie followed Lom to the shelter of some ruined buildings that lay at the edge of land and shore, perhaps once a small fishing enclave under the royal protection of Sedd Wydyr. Sea grass and reeds sprouted freely among the stones. Curlews circled above, and the air smelled of salt and seawater. Ghostlike, Brie walked among the Dungalans, searching their faces; she spotted Jacan, Ferg, and Gwil, but not Henle. She saw Maire and her brother, Aelwyn, Sago and Monodnock, Silien, the boy Dil, and finally Collun, crouched beside Hanna. They exchanged a few exhausted words. Hanna reassured Brie that the wound to her side was not serious and told her to tend to her own hurts. Brie nodded and, still dazed, walked to the side of a small stream, which meandered through the ruined buildings on its way to the sea. Fara materialized at her side. Brie washed gabha blood and charred flesh off her skin. Fara rubbed against her legs, lapped at the water briefly, then bounded to Silien, who was distributing bars of brisgein. Next Ciaran came up and drank thirstily. The Ellyl horse raised her head, and for a moment horse and girl stood side by side, Brie's shoulder resting against Ciaran's warm neck.
There is little left in me, Ciaran, Brie thought. She had never been so tired.
More than you thin\, Breo-Saight, came the Ellyl horse's response. And try washing your face. It's a mess, Ciaran added, looking sideways at Brie.
"Well, pardon me, but you're not exactly spotless yourself," Brie retorted.
Ciaran flicked her tail and went off in search of some brisgein.
Brie crouched down to soak her burnt hand in the cool water. Vaguely she was aware of someone—a fisherman, she thought, because of the indigo jersey and the braided criosanna he wore at his waist—coming to the stream near her. He limped and wore a large handkerchief bandage over half his face; Brie wondered if he had had his battle wound looked at. The sun was setting.
Suddenly the fisherman lunged at her. With a splash, she went sprawling facedown into the water. Before she could react, the man had grabbed the fire arrow out of her quiver. He let out a shriek of pain as the arrow burned his hand, but he was running, desperate, hobbling off on his crippled leg.
With an astonished sense of déjà vu, Brie scrambled up out of the water and took off after Bricriu. He was heading toward the bluff on which Sedd Wydyr stood. Despite her own fatigue, she had begun to gain on him and was sure she would catch him. But then she saw a small door in the side of the bluff, a thick wooden door striped with iron, no doubt with a lock or an iron bar on the inside. Panic rose in her. She did not think she would be able to reach him before he got to the door.
Then a gray blur swept past her. It was Collun astride the horse Fiain.
In moments Collun caught the man. He swung off Fiain, and in an instant his sword was at Bricriu's throat.
"Release the arrow," Collun said. Even from a distance Brie could hear the cold fury in his voice. Bricriu froze.
Her breath coming in gasps, Brie ran up. Neither Collun nor Bricriu moved as she reached them.
"There is very little that keeps me from running this sword through your evil neck, Bricriu," Brie heard Collun say. He pressed the tip of his sword deeper into Bricriu's throat.
The trembling man dropped the arrow onto the ground. Brie darted forward and picked it up. The arrow buzzed against her fingers. But Collun did not lower his sword.
Bricriu sank to his knees, his hollow eyes wild with fear. Then she saw his glance fall on Collun's sword.
"I know your sword, Wurme-killer." The words had come from Bricriu. With a shock Brie realized it was the first time she had heard him talk since being entertained by him in his dun, long ago; his voice was grotesque, a wheezing whisper, sounding as if someone on a previous occasion had run a sword through his voice box.
"My sword?" said Collun, distracted.
"It is fitting that you carry it," Bricriu croaked. Collun looked blank, and Bricriu's wrecked face shifted into a travesty of a smile. "Surely you know? It is Cuillean's, your father's sword. He has no need of it now. In Scath."
Collun went pale.
"Queen Medb gave him his choice of swords."
Collun took a step back, letting his sword drop from Bricriu's throat. In an instant Bricriu made a dash for the door in the bluff, with a frenzied scuttling movement like a wounded crab. Collun did not move, his eyes fixed on the sword. Brie thought to give chase, but Bricriu was already at the door, then through. She could hear the clang as an iron bolt dropped into place.
Brie went to Collun. He could not take his eyes off the blade in his hand.
"Did you know of this? My father and Medb?" Collun asked in a low voice.
Brie nodded reluctantly. "Balor told me."
"Why did you not tell me?"