The dream faded; reality came flooding back. It was light. It was day,
and Faolan had not returned. That could mean only one thing: Alpin had found him before he caught up with Deord. The two of them were captured, injured or dead. She was all alone in the forest with miles of unfamiliar territory on every side, clad in a damp wedding dress and with only Deord’s little knife to her name. And the birds, of course, but it seemed to Ana that they were unlikely to be of
much assistance if Drustan himself was not close by. Their main role had always been as messengers; as extensions of the man himself. Without him, what could they do to help her?
She shivered, hugging the small blanket around her shoulders and trying to think practically. She could attempt to get back to Alpin’s fortress. Following the course of a stream should lead her, eventually, to the lake
close by those stone walls. She could throw herself on his mercy. At least there would be warmth and shelter there. Alpin … Alpin who had brought that trapped expression to Faolan’s face as he forced him to tell her a half-truth he believed would turn her against her trusted friend, Alpin who had hit her, Alpin who would be very, very angry with her. Alpin who, it seemed, had no intention of honoring
Bridei’s treaty, but intended to father sons on her anyway. She muttered to herself, going over the choices as the light brightened outside the cavern, presaging sunrise and a day on which she must leave this temporary haven one way or another, for one thing was certain: she’d no intention of starving here like a rat trapped in a hole.
“Drustan’s gone, isn’t he?” She addressed her question to
the three birds, since they were the only available audience. “Gone back to the west. He loves that place, Dreaming Glen. It was his only true home; the only place where folk did not reject him. Of course he’s gone there …” Cruel; so cruel, after that vivid dream, which had felt utterly real. Had she been foolish and naïve, deluded by her notion of what love was? She had believed Drustan’s sweet
words of passion and desire. She recalled Deord’s dry comment,
“He’s a comely man,”
and Faolan’s wordless perplexity as he tried to ask her how it had happened. “I thought he loved me,” she whispered to the birds. “I thought he meant it. But he’s not coming …” She swallowed the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. There was the day to be faced, and all the other nights and days of an impossible
journey back to White Hill. Somehow she was going to have to do it alone.
“Ana?”
Faolan was at the cave entry, his clothing smeared with blood, his face white and exhausted. Relief flooded through her, and with it a terrible misgiving. “Faolan! Are you hurt? What about Deord? And … Drustan?”
His gaze flicked toward the birds, then back to her. “There’s no gentle way to put this. Deord’s dead.
Alpin’s hunting party made an end of him.” And, at her murmur of horror, “I reached him too late to be of any help; all I could do was sit with him while he died.”
“How—”
“You don’t want to know, believe me. He died bravely; he took a number of Alpin’s men with him. Are you all right? I couldn’t get back last night, he was a long way off—”
“I’m safe and well, Faolan. Of course you needed to
tend to Deord. It is terrible; so sad. He was a fine man.” She remembered how quick Deord had been to protect her when Alpin would have laid violent hands on her. She recalled him sparring with Drustan in the forest, a wondrous image of strength and grace. “I’ve often wondered what his past was and how he came to be at Briar Wood. I suppose we’ll never know now.”
Faolan said nothing. He had a
small pack, Deord’s presumably, through which he was rummaging now, setting out what he found: a flint, a roll of linen for bandages, an oiled bag that might hold compressed tinder, strips of dried meat, a waterskin. A leather glove, thick and strong.
“Did you see anything of Drustan?” Ana had to force herself to ask; it would hurt so much to hear him say no.
“Deord was convinced he had left
the fortress,” Faolan said, glancing quizzically at her. “He asked me to help Drustan get away safely. And to look after you. He thought of everyone except himself. He died because of us, Ana. A cruel waste. Alpin will pay for this.”
She had never seen him quite like this before. There was something frightening in his eyes. “Not entirely a waste,” she told him, “if we do our best to use the opportunity
Deord has given us. To get away safely, and to live our lives with courage and goodness. To live them for him as well as for ourselves.”
“In time, perhaps I’ll learn to be philosophical,” Faolan said tightly. “You didn’t see what Alpin did to him. Now come on, we’re leaving. I’ve no doubt Alpin will be out on the trail again this morning with his henchmen, and by the time he reaches here I want
to be well away. I suggest you tuck up your skirt or, better still, rip it off short, so you can climb. We’re heading up the cliff, and then over those hills.”
In silence, Ana took the little knife and used it to cut around the delicately embroidered skirt of her gown at a level two handspans above her ankles. She rolled up the damp strip of fabric and stuffed it into the pack; he did not need
to tell her no evidence should be left behind. Without a word, she followed him out of the cavern.
“You wear this pack,” Faolan said. “It’s lighter. I’ve put most of what we need in mine. Best if you go first, then I can catch you if you fall. Don’t rush it. The rock’s slippery.”
“How will we know where to go, without Deord?” Ana was gazing upward; the precipitous cliff face loomed above her,
its dark, slick surface softened here and there by tiny pockets of greenery. The air was full of fine spray.
“I’m hoping we already have a guide,” Faolan said as crossbill, crow, and hawk flew one by one from the cavern to spiral upward before them, leading the way. “At such an extreme, you have to take some things on trust. Up you go, then. I’ll be right behind you.”
THE REST OF the
day passed in a blur of climbing and scrambling, balancing and jumping, running over scree and rock, down muddy forest tracks and through dark, squelching patches of bog. When she thought she could go no farther, when her chest ached with each snatched breath and her knees shook with every step, Faolan would find a place of concealment and allow her a brief rest, a mouthful of water, and a bite
of the detested dried meat, all too familiar from their last journey across country. For all the alarming look in his eyes he found kind words, words of praise and encouragement. Without those, Ana knew it would have been impossible for her to keep going at such a pace. Surely they must have left Alpin and his men far behind. Surely they must be able to camp tonight and not be in fear of attack.
The hawk flew ahead. Faolan followed the tracks it chose even when they seemed less than promising. They journeyed on high ground; the pockets of woodland lay far below them now, and their way was exposed to view as well as to the wind that blew chill across the hillsides even in these days of summer. Tiny flowers bloomed in crevices, raising jewel-bright faces to the sun. The shadows of high
clouds danced across the bare flanks of the hills and pale grasses bowed before the breeze. In the distance, daunting peaks arose, purple and gray and deepest blue. There was no sign of human habitation, but deer and hare had left their traces on the hillside. At night, there might be wolves.
As the sun passed over to the west and the shadows lengthened, the hawk led them downhill again and back
into a tract of pine forest. For the first time, Ana saw Faolan hesitate as hoodie and crossbill followed the bigger bird into the ever deeper shade of the tall trees.
“Are we beyond the borders of Briar Wood here?” Ana gasped, taking advantage of the brief pause to catch her breath.
“I don’t know,” Faolan said. “I’d sooner not be back in the wildwood; maybe it offers concealment, but it feels
uncomfortably like Alpin’s home territory. I’ve seen how quickly he traverses this terrain with his hunting party. He knows his way about.” Ahead of them, the hoodie gave its familiar
craaa
sound, and the crossbill darted from bush to bush. The hawk could not be seen. “I suppose we have to trust him. Ready to go on?”
“Him?” she queried.
“The bird. He’s all we’ve got. Come, take my hand. You’re
doing well. Now run.”
THERE WAS NO making fire that first night. They sat close, but not touching; they slept little and listened to the sounds of the forest: rustling in the undergrowth, squeaking in the foliage, the fey, hollow voices of owls, and once, in the distance, a chilling howl. Neither of them offered a suggestion as to what that might be.
The three guardian birds remained
nearby. The crossbill was generally on Ana’s shoulder, the hoodie perched on the branch of a rowan, and the largest bird could be seen in the needled canopy of a dark pine. Whenever Ana looked up she met its bright, disconcerting gaze. It was an odd substitute for the one Drustan had lost, the tiny, softdowned wren. She wondered where they came from; whether he was able to conjure them when he needed
them or exert his charm on the wild creatures of the forest to draw them under his spell. As he had done with Ana herself … Maybe he’d only been playing some kind of game with her. Men seemed to enjoy that sort of thing; look at Alpin. Maybe Drustan had never seriously considered that the two of them might have a future together.
“Are you crying?” Faolan’s voice was quiet, almost diffident.
“Of course not.” Ana sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve for want of anything better. “Why would I be crying?”
“I could enumerate five or six reasons.”
“I just … I just don’t understand why Drustan wouldn’t come with us,” she blurted out, unable to help herself, for her mind was going over and over it. “I know he thought he might hurt someone if he came out … But if Deord was right, if Drustan
left Briar Wood freely, why hasn’t he reached us yet? I thought he would want to … I thought he cared about me …” It sounded pathetic; she bit back more words, but she could not stop the tears. “I hope he did get away,” she said shakily. “What if Alpin caught him, too? What if he’s …”
“Stop it, Ana.” Faolan did not sound angry, only very tired. “Just think of getting home and starting again.
And be glad you’re still alive. There have been too many lost on this ill-fated mission of ours. If it helps, I don’t believe your precious Drustan is one of them.” He glanced at the hawk, and it stared back at him, eyes intent. “My instincts tell me he survived and got out of Briar Wood. What he decided to do from that point on is none of my business.”
There was a silence; his tone had been
somewhat quelling.
“It is your business, Faolan,” Ana said eventually. “And mine. Didn’t Deord ask you to make sure Drustan was safe? He passed on his own responsibility to you. To us.”
Faolan’s voice was tight. “What are you suggesting we do? Go back to Briar Wood and check on him? Walk straight into Alpin’s welcoming arms?”
“What’s wrong with you, Faolan? Drustan is a fine man, a good man;
I’ve never believed him guilty of the crime he’s accused of. I know he wouldn’t do such a thing. You were ready enough to go back for Deord, whom you knew no better. Drustan is in real danger. He could be wandering alone in the forest, with Alpin after him.”
“Just as we are,” Faolan pointed out. “And if he has any sense, he’ll get out of Alpin’s reach as fast as he can, just as we’re doing. I’m
certain he’s safe, Ana. I think he knows how to look after himself. He’s probably a lot more self-reliant than you imagine.”
“Faolan?”
“Mm?”
“When you saw him—when you and Deord left the fortress—did Drustan say anything? About where he would go, or … Did he say anything about me?” She could imagine what Faolan would think—that she was obsessed, besotted—but it was impossible not to ask.
Faolan took his time about replying. “It would be better if you put this behind you,” he said at length. “You should try to forget it.”
“Just answer the question, Faolan. If Drustan said nothing of me, it’s best that I know, isn’t it?”
She heard his sigh.
“He was thinking of you above everything. He didn’t want to let you go, but he did, because what he wanted most of all was for you to be safe.
He more or less ordered Deord to come with us.”
“Oh.”
“I wasn’t sure if Drustan would come out of Briar Wood. It seemed to me he was almost afraid to leave his confinement. Long imprisonment does that to some men. Deord seemed confident Drustan would make his escape, and Deord knew him far better than either of us did.” His manner seemed awkward, as if he were reluctant to tell her this, and
from time to time he glanced at the birds.
“Are you worried that he’ll hear you?” she asked. Faolan stared at her, eyes narrowed.
“I mean,” said Ana, “there have been times in the past when he sent his creatures out and, when they returned, he knew what they had seen. I didn’t realize you knew about that.”
“I’ve seen it,” he said. “It’s a strange sort of gift.”
“Faolan?”
“Mm?”
“You don’t
like him, do you? Drustan, I mean.”
“I don’t know the man,” Faolan muttered. “I know that Deord is dead and that you are bitterly unhappy. Drustan has played his part in both those things. What cause would I have to like him?”