Waves in the Wind (28 page)

We rode hard in the early dawn, letting our horses have their heads. Our few possessions were loaded aboard my horse that Laoidheach and Goban might ride double. Laoidheach chanted as he galloped, his long flaxen hair streaming in the wind and, in truth, I felt he had more than a touch of the Tuatha about him.

The sun had reached the center of the sky when we stopped briefly to rest the horses, and then traveled on ’til we came to a rim of rugged hills.

“Enough,” I called to my companions as nightfall approached. “Let’s find a place to rest until the morning. Tomorrow we will cross the hills while the horses are still fresh.”

We found a spot beside a cliff face and made our camp among some broken boulders. I removed the sack of gold from the horse and tossed it on the ground where it landed with a loud clank.

Goban glanced at it, eyebrow cocked. “Ye’ve carried that bag since we met. What have ye there, Ossian?”

“Gold. I fetched it from my village. It will go to pay for outfitting Brendan’s voyage.”

“Gold?” Laoidheach’s mouth fell open. “May we see it?”

I reached to the bag and poured the contents onto the ground.

He fell to his knees, gawking at the treasure, and then looked up. “Where did you get this?”

“It was my father’s, the cup and headband gifts received by my grandfather. I had just retrieved it in Rath Raithleann before I found you and Goban prisoners of the Corcu.”

“Good,” Goban nodded as he inspected the gold with an assayer’s eye. “We will have need of it on our journey to find your sister.”

“No, Goban.” Laoidheach was sporting the headband and I grinned at his antics, but continued to Goban, “Again I tell you, this gold is for Brendan.”

“And how do ye propose we eat in the meanwhile? We have need of another horse, perhaps two, for we will need a pack animal. And with what do ye propose to purchase your sister from the god-cursed slavers? Do ye think the few copper coins remainin’ in your purse sufficient to provide for our needs?”

I had little knowledge of the value of such things, for my wants had always been provided for by my father or others. Ashamed of my foolishness, I wagged my head. “Of course you are right. I had not considered those things. Is there gold enough here to do all you suggest?”

Offering a wry grin, Goban replied, “I think this will do nicely, yes. In fact, we can purchase the two horses and live like bloody kings for more than a month in exchange for only three of those gold coins. As for the cost of ye’re sister—”

“I would offer all for my sister!”

“Um, yes, well as for the purchase of her, we simply must wait and see, but her cost will be a trifle compared to the treasure I see spread before me. Ye needn’t worry, your priest Brendan will have more than enough remainin’ to provision his ship.”

“Now, to more urgent matters,” Goban grumbled, patting his hard stomach. “Not much to forage for around here. We must make do with the dry barley bread and gnats’ piss for ale the old woman gave us. I’ll be starving tonight rather than again desecrate me stomach with her vittles.”

“Ah yes,” Laoidheach jibed as he shoved the headband into the bag. “A great smith such as you is more familiar with finer fare. Hams, great barons of roasted beef, young lamb turned on a spit, great stews of pork, venison baked with berries—”

“Stop! May ye’re pecker rot and drop off,” Goban groaned. With that, he gathered bracken for a bed and was soon asleep.

We settled down around our campfire, and ignored Goban’s snoring. Laoidheach sliced the bread, took a sip of Brinne’s ale and grimaced. “Goban was right. This ale does taste like gnats’ piss.”

“You say so, Laoidheach? I cannot judge it so, since I have no experience with drinking gnats’ piss.”

He gave me a small smile. “I haven’t spoken of it, but I see a great change in you, and not for the better. When last I saw you, in the days before the Corcu Duibne raid, you stood tall among your peers, and held an air of supreme confidence about you that I fail to see now. It’s as though some piece of you is missing. Is it that you have lost all faith in yourself and the gods?”

I paused for a moment as I considered his words. They were not spoken as criticism, but rather in the gentle manner of a concerned friend. “There is truth in what you say, though now I can say openly, only partially so. Yes, looking back on it, following the raid on our village I did lose myself. I lost myself totally. Not only were our king and village defeated on that tragic day, but I was also defeated, utterly defeated in all that I was and ever hoped to be.”

“I thought you dead, for you disappeared and there was never word of you.”

“Perhaps I did die, at least for a while.” I stared into the fire, remembering. “You see, my friend, it is little I recall about the day the Corcu Duibne struck, though sometimes I am haunted by fleeting memories of the horror of it. Somehow, I staggered away from the village, my head pounding from the blow I received, and wandered far until I found myself in a lonely cave beside the sea. I huddled there like a wounded beast, all the while my head shrieking with pain. It was as if a curtain cloaked my mind. How I survived, I cannot say.” I leaned forward, picked up a twig and stirred the fire. “Like I said, perhaps I was dead for a while, for I have no memory of what I did or how I lived during those months.”

Laoidheach leaned back, hands clasping a bent knee. “All of us, all the survivors of Rath Raithleanne, died a bit that day. I wonder what has become of the others now.”

“They are all slaves in one capacity or another, somewhere. But it is Aine who captures all my thoughts.” I tossed the twig onto the fire, glancing at his somber face. “You know her circumstances? You know what they have done with her?”

He sat up, cross-legged, hands scrubbing his face. “You think I do not? You think I have not thought of it and lain awake tormented by wondering, fearing?”

“Your betrothed will not be the same as when last you saw her.” It was with no intent to distress or even test him that I continued. “There will be those who will call her unclean and unworthy to be wed now. What are your thoughts, knowing as you do all that has happened to her?”

Elbows on knees, he stared into the fire. “You ask if I will remain true to our betrothal?”

“Aye, though it is a hard thing I ask of a friend and brother.”

“I will not lie and say I have not thought long about it. What man would want his wife to…?” A hand wiped tears from his eyes. “Ach, I weep like an old woman.”

He straightened up and sniffed. “I made my pledge to Aine with my soul and mind and I shall not go back on it.”

My heart warmed, yet I understood the storm that raged within him. “If it is because you feel honor-bound to do so, as Aine’s brother I release you from your pledge.”

Within the firelight’s glow, his twisted, anguished face turned to me, and he gasped, “It is because she owns my heart and I still love her more than life itself.” Finger pointing toward me, his face hardened. “And I say this as well. Do not worry about spending your treasure to purchase Aine back from those bastard slavers. I intend to kill them all, every one.”

* * *

Something woke me, and I sat up, startled by a quavering moan that seemed to come from the cliff. I rose, taking a flaming brand from the fire, and made by way through the boulders. Around a sharp turn a small cave opened, from which the sound seemed to come.

A vibrating drone, it rose and fell in a high pitch and came from no man nor animal I knew of. Some unseen force propelled me forward and I could not fight it even though I knew it was the Tuatha under the earth that summoned me.

A tunnel spiraled downwards and I followed it, unnerved though drawn on by the irresistible summons. Down and down I went, my elbows brushing cold damp walls, my feet feeling for steps carved into the stone until I arrived at a huge cavern. This was no mere fairy palace. Millions of fireflies lit the glistening cavern walls. Filled with the musty smell of a place long empty, it seemed the Tuatha had abandoned everything; chairs, tables, cooking pots littered the floor. There was treasure, enough to supply a hundred voyages, and I gasped at the sight of it. Horn drinking cups encrusted with precious stones, scabbards of silver, rings and armlets of gold.

At the far end of the cavern, a simple wooden stave stood erect, somehow inserted into a great stone. It shivered and moaned with the eerie sound that woke me. I made my way to it and reached to touch it.

“Stop!”

I looked down. A small brown rat glared at me with beady red eyes.

“I see you Morrigan,” I whispered. “What would you have of me?”

“My gift, Ossian. Do you think I would send you to the other shore without defense?”

“Is this the sacred staff of the Druids, the Slatnan Druidheacht?”

“This is not a simple Druid’s staff. This is the Staff of Nuada of the Silver Hand! Look upon it well. See it is made of birch, the axis upon which the universe spins. When you withdraw it from the stone it is dead wood, a staff that travelers would carry.”

It was an amazing thing, the Staff of Nuada himself, first king of the Tuatha. “But My Queen, I have no knowledge of the use of such power.”

“Look underneath the stone, my Ossian, and see what you find there.”

I cleared away the rubble at the base of the stone and came upon a small chest made from oak and covered with lacquered silver. Curious as to its purpose, I laid it on the rock beside the stave, and the rat scuttled over to it and struck it with its paw. The chest sprang open. Inside it lay a silver pommel in the shape of a coiled serpent.

She gestured toward the Staff. “Now pay heed. The Staff of Nuada is a powerful charm, even in the hands of a poor mortal such as you. The Serpent and Staff must never come together except in a time of dire need, for when you raise it the Serpent Staff will draw the very life force from you if you keep it raised too long. Keep the pommel hid about you and let no one know of it.”

I took the gleaming Serpent, hid it in my kirtle and then lifted the Staff from the stone. It shrieked once as I withdrew it, then shuddered and was still.

It was an awe-inspiring gift. “Yes, I understand, but how will I command the power of it?”

“The Staff itself will direct you—otherwise call upon your gods for guidance. It can aid you much during your voyage to Tír na nÓg.”

“And what of you, My Queen? Will you too withdraw to the west?”

The rat looked at me and shimmered, expanding into a burst of light. Eldritch laughter echoed through the cavern as the light coalesced into a looming, terrifying figure. She was Macha of the Morrigan’s Fate Trinity—Macha, goddess of battle and death—Macha, a woman with harpy’s wings, sagging breasts and talons dripping blood.

She settled her wings and spoke. “So you ask if I go to find peace in the Isles of the Blessed? Never! I am War Goddess of the Tuatha, and, though my powers grow weak, I would pass quickly in the idleness of the West. I crave the thrill of battle, the clash of steel on steel, spilled blood and the fear of men. I will stay and feed upon the souls of my enemies until the God of the Christians claims them all. Now go, but take nothing else from this place or the earth will take it.”

Without warning, she vanished and I was alone in the great hall.

Staff in hand, I made my way back through the tunnel bringing nothing else of the Tuatha, though the riches lying there sorely tempted me.

Back in our camp, I could not sleep so I lay awake until the first gray of dawn and saw Goban stir and rise.

He made his way over to Laoidheach and poked him with his foot. “Come on, minstrel, stir yourself. I spent the night dreaming of your taunts of food. We must make haste.”

Laoidheach went to water the horses, while Goban muttered he had to piss and wandered ’round the cliff.

We mounted and were waiting for him to finish his business, when there was a dull rumble and a cloud of dust billowed into the air.

“Goban,” I called. “Are you all right?”

A sorry figure appeared through the dust, covered in dirt from head to foot.

“Wha…what happened?” he stammered.

“Goban did you find a cave and did you enter it?

“Yes I did,” he snorted, nose in the air, arms akimbo. “It looked a nice quiet place to crap, so I was squattin’ down when I saw a dagger lying on the ground, and a fine one at that. I just picked it up to take a look at it and the earth fell on me. I was lucky to get out alive.”

“That you were. Have you the dagger with you?”

“No,” he mumbled. “I must have dropped the damned thing.”

“It’s well you did, for it would have brought bad luck to us. Now pull up your britches, we’ve far to go.”

Chapter 23

The Wiles of Gods and Men