The Hawk Eternal (7 page)

'Why not? Every other conquered nation has given us the same facility. And there must be those among the clans who are disenchanted, overlooked or despised. They will come to us, and they will learn.'

'I thought Father wanted to attack in the summer?'

'He does, but I'll talk him out of it. There are three main lowland areas still to fall, and they'll yield richer pickings than these mountains.'

'I like the mountains. I'd like to build a home here,' said Ongist.

'You will soon, my brother. I promise you.'

Oracle sat alone, gazing into the fire, lost in yesterday's dreams when armies swept across the land with their lances gleaming and banners raised.

A red Hawk on a field of black. The Outlanders streaming from the battlefield, broken and demoralised. Sigarni raising her sword in the sunset, the Battle Queen triumphant.

Such had been the glory of youth when Oracle crossed the Gate to the kingdom beyond. The old man drew his grey cloak about his shoulders, stretching his legs forward, soaking in the heat from the burning beech in the hearth. He stared down at the backs of his hands, wrinkled and spotted with the drab brown specks of age.

But once upon a time . . .

'Dreaming of glory?' asked Taliesen.

Oracle jerked up as if struck, twisting in his seat. He cursed softly as he recognised the ancient druid. 'Pull up a chair,' he said.

The druid was small, and skeletally thin, his white hair and beard sparse and wispy, clinging to his face and head like remnants of winter mist. But his eyes were strangely youthful and humorous, antelope-brown and set close together under sharp brows. From his skinny shoulders hung a cloak of birds' feathers, many-hued, the blue of the kingfisher flashing against raven black, soft pale plover and eagle's quill.

He leaned his long staff against the cave wall and seated himself beside the Oracle. 'The boy came then,' said the druid, his voice soft and deep.

'You know he did.'

'Yes. And so it begins: the destruction of all that we love.'

'So you believe.'

'Do you doubt me, Oracle?'

'The future is like soft clay to be moulded. I cannot believe it is already set and decided.'

The druid gave a low curse. 'You of all men should know that the past, present and future exist together, woven like a cloth, interweaving. You crossed the Gate. Did you learn nothing?'

'I learned the error of pride. That was enough for me.'

'You look old and tired,' said the druid.

'I am both. How is it that you still live, Taliesen? You were old when I was a babe at the breast.'

'I was old when your grandfather was a babe at the breast.'

For a while both men sat in silence staring into the flames, then Oracle sighed and shifted in his seat. 'Why have you come here?' he whispered.

'Sigarni has crossed the Gate. She is at the cave on High Druin.'

Oracle licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. 'How is the girl?'

Taliesen gave a dry laugh. 'Girl? She is a woman near as old as you. As I said, you do not understand the intricacies of the Gateways.'

'Well, how is she anyway, damn you?'

'Gravely wounded, but I will heal her."

'May I see her?'

The druid shook his head. 'It would not be wise.'

'Then why come to me at all?'

'It may be that you can help me.'

'In what way?'

'What happened to the sword you stole from her?"

Oracle reddened. 'It was payment for all I had done for her.'

'Do not seek to justify yourself, Caracis. Your sin led to more wars. You cost Sigarni far more than you were worth; then you stole Skallivar. You told me you lost it in the fight that brought you back to us, but I no longer believe you. What happened to it?'

Oracle rose and walked to the rear of the cave. He returned carrying a long bundle wrapped in cloth. Placing it on the table, he untied the binding and opened the bundle. There lay a shining sword of silver steel. 'You want it?' Oracle asked.

Taliesen sighed, and flipped the cloth back over the blade. 'No. Damn you, man! You crossed the Lines of Time. You will die and

never know the chaos you gave birth to. I have tried to put it right, and have only succeeded in creating fresh paradoxes.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Without the sword Sigarni was crushed, defeated and slain.'

'But you said she was here!'

'As she is. I tried to help her, Caracis, but she died. I crossed the Lines rinding another Sigarni, in another world. She died. Time and time again I travelled the Gates. Always she died. I gave up for a long while, then I returned to my quest and found another Sigarni who was fated to die young. She defeated her first enemy, and then the second, Earl Jastey. She did it with the help of Caracis. You remember that, do you not?' Oracle looked away. 'And Caracis, once again, stole her sword. But this time she asked me to return it to her. That had never happened before. I did not know what to do. And now - suddenly - she is here. A victorious Queen carrying this sword.'

'I did not want to part with it,' whispered the man who had been Caracis.

'You had such talents, Caracis,' said Taliesen softly. 'How was it that you became such a wretch?"

'I wanted to be a king, a hero. I wanted songs sung about me, and legends written. Is that so shameful? Tell me, did she rule well?'

'She won the final battle, and held the clans together for forty years. She is a true legend and will remain so."

Oracle grinned. 'Forty years, you say? And she won." Hauling himself to his feet, the old man fetched a jug of honey mead and two goblets. 'Will you join me?'

'I think I will.'

'Forty years,' said Oracle again. 'I could not have done it. Forty years!'

'Tell me of the boy Gaelen.'

Oracle dragged his mind back to the present. 'Gaelen? He's a good lad, bright and quick. He has courage. I like him. He will be good for Caswallon.'

'How does Caswallon fare?'

'As always, he walks his own path. He has been good to me ... like a son. And he eases my shame and helps me forget. ..'

'Have you told him of your past?' inquired Taliesen, leaning forward and staring hard at Oracle.

'No, I kept my promises. I've told no one of the worlds beyond. Do you doubt me?'

'I do not. You are a wilful man and proud, but no oneever accused you of oath-breaking.'

'Then why ask?'

'Because men change. They grow weak. Senile.'

'I am not senile yet,' snapped Oracle.

'Indeed you are not.'

'What will happen to the Queen?'

Taliesen shrugged. 'She will die, as all die. She is old and tired; her day is gone. A sorcerer long ago sent a demon to kill her. He made a mistake and cast his spell too close to a Gateway. The beast is almost upon her.'

'Can we not save her?'

'We are talking of destiny, man!' snapped Taliesen. 'The beast must find her.' His stern expression relaxed. 'Even should the demon fail, she will die soon. Her heart is old and worn out.'

'At least she achieved something with her life. She saved her people. I've destroyed mine.'

'I cannot make it easier, for you speak the truth. But it is done now.'

'Is there truly no hope?' Circle pleaded.

The druid sighed and stood, gathering his long staff. 'There is always hope, no matter how slender or unrealistic. Do not think that you are the only one to feel regret. The Farlain are my people, in a way you could never comprehend. When they are destroyed my life goes with them. And all the works of my life. You! You are just a man who made a mistake. I must bear the cost. Hope? I'll tell you what hope there is. Imagine a man standing in Atta Forest at the birth of autumn. Imagine all the leaves are ready to fall. That man must reach out and catch one leaf, one special leaf. But he doesn't know which tree it is on. That is the hope for the Farlain. You think the idiot Cambil will catch the leaf?'

'Caswallon might,' said Oracle.

'Caswallon is not Hunt Lord,' said Taliesen softly. 'And if he were ... the clans are sundered, and widely spread. They will not turn back an enemy as strong as the Aenir.'

'Did you come here to punish me, druid?'

'Punish you? I sometimes wish I had killed you," said Taliesen sadly. 'Damn you, mortal! Why did I ever show you the Gate?'

Oracle turned away from him then, leaning forward to add fuel to the fire. When he looked back the druid had gone.

And he had taken the sword .. .

'You are a little unfair on Caswallon,' Maeg told her father as he sat in the wide leather chair, chuckling as the infant Donal tugged at his beard. Maggrig was well into middle age, but he was still powerful and his thick red beard showed no grey. Donal yawned, and the Pallides Hunt Lord brought the babe to his chest, resting him in the crook of his arm.

'Unfair to him?' he said, keeping his voice low. 'He married my only daughter, and still he raids my herds.'

'He does not.'

'I'll grant you he's stayed out of Pallides lands recently - but only because the Aenir have cut off his market.'

'It is tradition, Father,' argued Maeg. 'Other clans have always been fair game; and Caswallon is Farlain.'

'Don't give me that, girl. That tradition died out years ago. By God, he doesn't need to raid my cattle. Or Laric's. And sooner or later someone will catch him. Do you think I want to hang my own son-in-law?'

Maeg lifted the sleeping child from Maggrig's arms, laying him in his crib and covering him.

'He needs excitement, he does it because he enjoys it.' The words sounded lame, even to Maeg. For all his intelligence and quick wit, Caswallon refused to grow up.

'He used to enjoy taking other men's wives, I hear,' said Maggrig.

Maeg turned on him, eyes flashing. 'Enough of that!' she snapped. 'He's not looked at another woman since we wed . . . well, he's looked, but that's all.'

'I can't think why you married him. Did you know he's got my prize bull in the meadow behind the house? Now there's a sight to greet a visitor, his own stolen bull!'

Take it with you when you go,' said Maeg, smiling.

'And be seen by all the men of the Farlain? I'd sooner they thought

it was a present.' He shook his head. 'I thought you'd change him, Maeg. I thought marriage would settle him.'

'It has. He's a wonderful husband, he cares for me."

'I don't want to kill him,' admitted Maggrig. 'Damn it all, I like the boy. There must be other ways to get excitement.'

'I'll talk to him again. Are you sure that's your bull?'

'Sure? Of course I'm sure. The night he took it, Intosh and seven others chased him for hours - only he and that damn crofter Arcis had split up. Caswallon led Intosh a merry run.'

'He must have been furious,' said Maeg, keeping the smile from her face.

'He's promised to have Caswallon's ears for a necklace.'

'That wasn't because of the bull,' said his daughter. 'It is said that when Intosh came back to his house he found his bed had been slept in and his best sword stolen.'

'The man is unreasonable,' said Maggrig, unable to suppress a grin. 'I gave Intosh that sword after he won the Games.'

'Shall I get it for you, Father? I'm sure Intosh would like it back.'

'He'd bury it in pig's droppings rather than use it now.'

'Caswallon plans to wear it at the Games.'

'Ye gods, woman! Has he no shame?'

'None that I've noticed.'

From the hearth room below they heard a door open and close, and the sound of whistling floated up the stairs.

'Well, I suppose I'd better see him,' said Maggrig, pushing himself to his feet.

'Be nice,' said Maeg, linking her arm with his.

'Be nice, she says. What should I say? “Been on any good raids lately?” '

Maeg chuckled, looped her arm round his neck and kissed his bearded cheek. 'I love you,' she told him.

He grinned at her. 'I was too soft in the raising of you, child. You always had what you wanted.'

The two of them walked downstairs where Caswallon was standing before the hearth, hands stretched out to the flames. He turned and smiled, green eyes twinkling. 'How are you Father?' he asked.

'Not a great deal better for seeing you, you thieving swine,' snapped Maggrig. Maeg sighed and left them together.

'Is that any way to talk to the husband of your daughter?' Caswallon asked.

'It was a miserable day when you crossed my doorway,' said Maggrig, walking to the far table and pouring a goblet of honey mead. It was full-flavoured and rich, and he savoured the taste. 'This has a familiar feel to it,' he said. 'It is not unlike the special mead that Intosh brews.'

'Really?' said Caswallon.

Maggrig closed his eyes. That is all I need to complete my day -my own bull grazing in your meadow, while I drink mead stolen from my comrade.'