***
"I go tomorrow," Brie announced that evening at dinner.
Her aunt and uncle looked stunned.
"Where?" said Amrys.
"Why?" Rainne asked simultaneously.
"I go to the Blue Stack Mountains and from there, most likely, to Dungal, in pursuit of the traitor Bricriu," Brie replied calmly. And my father's murderers, if he should lead me there, she thought to herself.
"This is absurd! I will not have my niece wandering about the country on foolish and dangerous missions," sputtered her uncle. Brie saw her aunt shoot him a warning glance.
Brie's gaze fell to her plate. Uncle Amrys continued to speak, his cheeks flushed. "No one in their right mind would even think of venturing across the Blue Stack Mountains. I will not allow it."
Brie's chin went up and she gazed defiantly at her uncle.
"Amrys, would you please pass me the bittergreens?" interrupted Aunt Rainne. Brie's uncle turned to Rainne with a look of irritation. Then he glanced around the table vaguely. Finally locating the platter at his elbow, he handed it to Aunt Rainne.
Before he could resume his lecture, Rainne spoke, her tone direct and gentle. "Breigit, you lost your mother before you even knew her, and then, at a young age, witnessed the murder of your father. And now Masha. If this man Bricriu murdered her, then it was a vile act and he should be punished. But it is not up to you to render justice."
Brie opened her mouth to speak, but Rainne continued. "I know you wish to pursue your father's killers, but do you not think it better to return to the business of living your own life? What good can such a journey do you?"
"I do not wish to speak of this anymore, Aunt Rainne," Brie interrupted, her voice implacable. "I leave tomorrow."
"It is preposterous!" exclaimed Amrys.
But Rainne bowed her head and said softly, "Very well. I understand that you are seeking answers, Breigit, and your uncle and I want you to know that if you discover that these answers lie at home, at Dun Slieve, we are here and always will be."
"Thank you," Brie replied, her own voice softening.
"But Rainne—," interjected Uncle Amrys.
"My dear, do you not have a map of Dungal somewhere about? I remember you telling me you found it among those documents you purchased from that vendor in Temair."
"Why, yes, I do believe you are correct. Got it at the same time I received the Vetigullian manuscript. I'm quite sure the vendor had no idea of its true worth." Amrys's eyes brightened at the memory, his anger at Brie vanishing. "Indeed, it was quite an extraordinary find..."
***
That night Brie had the dream again. This time the bird came so close she could almost feel the powerful yellow wings beating against her face. When she woke she was gasping for breath and covered in sweat. At least I didn't scream, she thought grimly.
She rose, still shaky, and crossed to a small basin of water. She rinsed her face in the cold water. Wiping her face with a towel, she glanced at her quiver. Suddenly she wanted to see the arrow.
Quickly she pulled it out. The arrow was warm; it gave off a reassuring warmth that felt good against her skin. She ran her fingertips over the soft feathers. A goldenhawk, she mused, then her body went rigid. Was it possible...?
She put the arrow back in the quiver, donned a jersey for warmth, and exited her room.
Brie impatiently ascended the stairway to her uncle's study, thinking she must be losing her mind. She entered, lit an oil lamp, and began scanning the shelves. Finally she found the book with the picture of the goldenhawk. She stared at the bird. Except for the coloring, it was exactly the same as the bird in her dream.
FOUR
Goat-man
That morning as she readied herself for the journey, Brie thought how good it would be to sleep out in the open again. She was not sorry to leave the room of her childhood.
Aunt Rainne had packed food for Brie, and Uncle Amrys gave her his favorite skin bag filled with spring water. Brie gratefully accepted the provisions, although she declined the map of Dungal her uncle offered. She could see that he was exceedingly reluctant to part with it, and besides, she had the wizard Crann's map, the one Collun had given her.
At the entrance to the passage grave, Brie paused for a moment to say a final farewell. "I have the arrow. Thankyou, Masha," she whispered into the cool gloom of the chamber.
Then she whispered to Ciaran, "I'm ready," and the Ellyl horse burst into a powerful canter. Brie leaned into the horse's neck, her fingers twined in the soft mane.
***
Just before twilight Brie stopped by a copse of rowan trees. She gave Ciaran a brisk rubdown then ate a small meal. Leaving the Ellyl horse munching contentedly on a patch of clover, Brie walked a little way into the trees, carrying her quiver and bow. As she tested the string, she noted that the light in the sky was growing dim.
"Well, why not?" she said with a reckless grin. Brie fixed her sight on a barely visible knothole on the lower trunk of a far distant rowan. "Let's see what you can do." She reached into her quiver for the arrow from Dungal. It felt warm to the touch and hummed lightly against her fingers.
With a sudden feeling of great joy, Brie nocked the arrow to her bow. Then she let fly. There was a whishing, sizzling sound, and she felt as if the tips of flames were licking at her face. Her string snapped in two, and the fingers that had held the fletched end of the arrow blistered.
She had squinted at the last moment and realized it was a good thing she had. As it was, her vision was blurred by burning white dots as if she had been gazing too long into the sun.
She didn't move for several moments, waiting for the dots to fade. Ciaran was beside Brie, nosing the girl's burnt fingers with her soft muzzle. When Brie was able to see again, she went to retrieve the arrow. The arrowhead was lodged directly in the center of the knothole, and the bark all around it was charred black.
Brie pulled the arrow out of the tree. Holding it lightly in her hands, she gazed down at the arrow from Dungal.
Fire music, said a voice next to her. Brie jumped, almost dropping the arrow. She swung her head first to the left and then the right. But no one was there. No one but Ciaran.
"Who's there?" Brie said nervously.
The arrow. It has tine draoicht. Fire music.
Brie looked carefully around her. Then she looked at Ciaran. When their eyes met, Brie knew; the Ellyl horse had spoken the words inside her head. She gaped at Ciaran.
Brie remembered Collun telling her that he and his Ellyl horse, Fiain, had been able to communicate wordlessly. But up until now, Ciaran had given no sign of talking or making contact with her in any way other than the usual ways one communicates with a highly intelligent horse.
Brie felt a little shy. What was she supposed to do now? she wondered. Could Ciaran read her mind, or did she need to speak out loud, or...?
Salve. On your fingers. Ciaran lowered her head to tear up a mouthful of grass, then casually walked away. The conversation was over.
With several backward glances at the Ellyl horse, Brie slid the arrow back into her quiver. Then she turned her gaze on the blackened tree. Clearly this arrow isn't for felling a guinea hen for dinner, Brie thought wryly, unless one prefers it cooked to a crisp.
After Brie rubbed bayberry salve on her fingers and bandaged them, she restrung her bow. She had carved the bow herself in Tir a Ceol, the land of the Ellyl. It was fashioned in the image of a flame-bird, or a tine ean as the Ellylon called it. A fire arrow for a flame-bird, she thought with a smile. And, in fact, her own name, Breo-Saight, meant fire arrow. Why so much of fire? she mused. Perhaps Talisen had been right when he dubbed her Flame-girl, she thought, grinning at the memory.