"What will happen?" Brie asked. "Who will rule in Durwydd's absence?"
"There is a young cousin, a boy who lives in the village Pennog. He is young yet to rule," said Ralfe.
"But he will not lack for loyal and farsighted advisers, of that I am certain," Brie replied with a smile.
***
Throughout the day, as Brie helped dig graves, kindle pyres, and—when she got the chance—care for a still unconscious Collun, she often found herself casting uneasy glances at Sedd Wydyr, which stood glittering against the blue sky. She knew, as they all knew, that although the gabha had been defeated, Balor still lived. Even if he did not show himself, he lived.
Lorn suggested that Balor must have fled once he saw the battle was lost. Brie said nothing, but she knew that was not true. On the other hand, she could feel no trace of Balor, even when she held the fire arrow and boldly sought him with her mind. All she got was a bad case of blurred vision for her efforts.
"He must have returned to Scath, taking the man Bricriu with him," Hanna suggested, sitting with Brie while she waited for her eyesight to return to normal. Collun lay nearby, his condition unchanged, and Fara was seated beside Brie, trying to dislodge the bandage Hanna had fashioned for the gash on her neck.
Brie shook her head, dissatisfied. "We will have to search Sedd Wydyr," she said.
Leaving Aelwyn to watch over Collun, Brie led the search of the crystal fortress. Using makeshift ladders to scale the outer wall, several Dungalans opened the gate from the inside for the rest of the search party. The inside of the castle was as opulent and shining as the outside, yet it was cold, devoid of any humanity. They searched the entire structure, every room, every twisting corridor, even out through the underground tunnel that exited through the door in the side of the bluff, but they found no trace of life. They did find another tunnel, a long one that led them to an entrance hidden deep in the foothills, and most were satisfied that Balor must have escaped through this route.
But Brie was not. She alone had felt Balor's power and could not conceive of him fleeing in such a way.
They buried Sago where he had fallen on the battle plain. First, as Hanna and Brie had done for Yldir, they crafted a small boat-shaped casket. They laid the fallen sorcerer in the boat, along with his empty amhantar, a makeshift fishing pole Brie had made, a small piece of the fishing net, and a skin bag of wine. The small piece of wood from the boat Gor-gwynt they placed in his open palm. Someone had gone out on the white stone beach, in spite of the white moths, and found a large smooth rock to use as a memory stone for Sago. As Hanna etched words onto the stone, Brie noticed a number of seabirds clustered overhead, some just hanging there, others gliding in tight circles. When they lowered the boat-casket into the earth, a fisherman from Ardara brought out a small pipe and played a short melody that Brie recognized as one of Sago's favorite nonsense songs, about a whitebelly and a plover. The seabirds above had grown in number, a large hovering cloud of whites and blacks and browns.
As the music ended, the seabirds cried out and then, almost as a solid mass, they flew away.
As the birds disappeared over the sea, Brie heard someone say with a sigh, "With Yldir and Sago gone, I'm thinking that's the last of the Sea Dyak sorcerers."
"Actually, no," Brie found herself saying, "I don't think so."
Several faces turned to her, questioning.
And Brie told them what Sago had said to her about the boy Thom who lived in the town of Mira, and about his thumbnails.
"I know the lad," said a fisherman from Mira in wonderment, "and a fine young fisherman he's already showing himself to be. Father's that proud of him. Wait until he hears of this..."
Because many of the Dungalans were uneasy near the moth-infested white beach, not to mention the looming, empty fortress of Sedd Wydyr, Lom suggested they move camp to their old site on the other side of the forest.
And so they finished their burying and burning and wearily traveled back through the trees, glad to see the last of Sedd Wydyr and its bloodstained battlefield.
The newly arrived Dungalan army had brought with them fresh provisions, and that night Hanna oversaw the cooking of an impressive feast. There was also a new supply of good Dungalan mead, and as the evening wore on the somber mood of the Dungalans began to lighten.
They were just finishing a delicious medlar comfit when a Dungalan who had ridden with the original army rose to his feet, his cup of mead upraised. Brie couldn't remember his name, but she knew he was a fisherman from the small town of Clibden with a boat he called Bream. The flames from the cooking fires lit his face and he called out, loud, "To Bren-huan!" And there came a great yelling and clapping.
Brie blushed. For a mortified moment she was afraid they were going to ask for a speech, but then Hanna stood and added her own toast to that of the fisherman from Clibden. She compared Brie's bravery to that of Queen Fionna and said that when Brie had led them to battle she had looked like a Dungalan war goddess, her braids flying behind her like bolts of golden lightning. When Hanna finished, there were more cheers and cups being refilled. After that came many rounds of toasts to all the many acts of bravery and comradeship during battle. Monodnock tipsily even offered a toast to himself, taking credit for dispatching Sago on his miraculous errand. It was late by the time the assembled companions began drifting off to their bedrolls.
Brie, Hanna, and Silien remained sitting by their campfire, Collun lying an arm's length from them. He was still unconscious, though Hanna said the wound to the side of his head looked better. But she could not say more.
"The truth, Hanna," said Brie, her face intent. "Is Collun going to recover?"
"I wish I had an answer, Biri. But even if his body heals, head wounds are difficult. It may be that his wits will be affected."
Brie's stomach tightened.
"He may be as a child, Biri," Hanna said gently.
Like a kesil, Brie thought, thinking of the handful of wandering wild forest men in Eirren. She stared at Collun's bandaged head. "Can we do nothing? Silien?"
The Ellyl shook his head. "The healing waters of Tir a Ceol cannot help hurts of the mind. I am sorry."
"Biri," Hanna said, her voice brisk, "your hand needs more of that mallow salve." Brie looked down at her blistered, oozing palm, the one that had wielded the fire arrow. The strip of cloth with which Collun had bound her hand had come loose.
Hanna had Collun's wallet of herbs and, with Brie's help, soon had made a small amount of the salve, which she applied to Brie's hand. The salve stung and soothed at the same time. But Brie noticed that Hanna's eyelids were drooping and that Silien had already dozed off.
"Get some sleep, Hanna," Brie said. "I'll watch Collun."
"Only if you promise to wake me in a few hours," Hanna murmured.
Brie brewed a pan of cyffroi, then reached for her bow with its broken string. She restrung it with a string she had borrowed from one of the Dungalan archers. Her quiver was empty except for the fire arrow; when her hand was better she would make new arrows. Idly, she took out the fire arrow. It hummed lightly against her unburnt hand. Then she looked at the story band at the very bottom of the shaft.
Brie caught her breath. The story band slowly unraveled itself, revealing the story of the Dungalan battle against the gabha. Hypnotized, Brie watched the events unfold in moving, vivid pictures. When she came to the part where Sago was run through by the gabha general's horns, tears welled in her eyes. And when Collun fell, his head crushed, the tears spilled over, wetting her cheeks. Then came the grave digging, the smoke from the pyres and the uneasy waiting by Collun's unconscious body.
"Where is Balor?" Brie whispered through her tears, clutching the arrow.
The white stone beach flashed in front of Brie's eyes, luminous in the moonlight, pulsing faintly.