Challenge of the clans (32 page)

When they were both thoroughly wrapped, the three women approached Finn again, seized him, and lifted him from the ground. The ease with which they did this astonished Finn. Their strength greatly belied their hunched, scrawny bodies. They hoisted him to their shoulders and carried him into the cave.

It was very dim inside and, as they passed into the shadows, Finn could at first see nothing. The hags moved back a short way from the entrance, stopped, and unceremoniously dumped him onto the floor.

He fell heavily atop a lumpy mass of strange objects that snapped and rattled loudly beneath him. It was as if he had crashed upon a collection of brittle sticks and fragile pottery, shattering a great deal of it.

The three women turned and walked out of the cave. Finn quickly realized that being removed from the magic aura of the triangle had allowed his strength to return. With a determined effort he managed to pull himself upright. And, as his eyes adjusted to the cave's half-light, he was able to look about at his surroundings.

He found that he had been dropped into a great rubbish pile composed of human bones.

The remains stretched away to the rock walls on either side and back into the darkness behind him. There were an uncountable number of skeletons here, their disjointed bones jumbled together in a choppy sea of dull white. Close by him, an arm with hand still attached stuck up from the heap as if gesturing for aid. Beyond, a skull smiled at him from its perch atop a high pyramid of bones.

There were many tattered fi-agments of clothing

mingled with the ghastly remains. There were great numbers of weapons as well, the iron of spear points and swords bloodied by thick rust, the leather of shields and harnesses rotting away. He and Crimall were clearly far from the first hunters who had fallen prey to the grotesque trio.

The women reappeared at the cave mouth, carrying the wrapped figure of his uncle this time. They dropped him down into the bones beside Finn and then moved back to stand in a tight group at one side of the cave, staring down at their prisoners. Crimall looked around him and, uttering an exclamation of disgust, swiftly pulled himself up to a sitting position.

"By all the gods," he shouted at the hags, "what kind of monsters are you?"

"It's yourselves who are the monsters," said a man's voice.

Another figure had appeared at the cave's mouth. Finn peered searchingly at it, but he could see little of it against the bright background. The newcomer was slim and tall and moved with easy grace. He was clad in a robe so white that it seemed almost radiant about its edge.

"Who are you?" Crimall demanded.

There was no response to this. The man stopped on the shore of the sea of bones. He seemed to regard them silently for a time. Finally he spoke again, his voice a smooth, calm, oddly pleasing sound.

"So, you are the one called Finn. Yes, I see much of Muime in you. But there is much of the vile MacTredhom too. His coarseness has despoiled the fairness, the perfection of her blood as he despoiled her."

A sudden understanding came to Finn at these words.

"You are Tadg!" he said with certainty.

The druid arched an eyebrow in mild surprise. "So, you know about me. Very good! Too bad your acuteness of mind was not enough to save you from the trap. Yes, I am Tadg. And since you know that, tell me what became of my daughter."

"She . . . left me when I was a baby," Finn said quite truthfully, but using omission to protect his mother's hiding place. "I was told that she had died."

Tadg shrugged. "No matter. She was dead to me from the day she chose Cumhal. Now you will die, too, and it will all be finished."

"But why?" Finn asked. "iVe done nothing to you."

"Your very existence is an insult to me," the druid scathingly replied.

"YouVe condemning me because of some hatred of your own. You are my own grandfather!"

"Reminding me of that does nothing to help you. It's your relationship to me that I must wipe away. And that I have finally arranged, through these fine women."

"Why should they be helping you in this?" Finn asked.

"There's no reason that you shouldn't know. They are the daughters of Conaran of the Tuatha de Danaan, once lord of this part of Ireland. He charged his daughters with the guardianship of it and of its wild creatures. That was their life and their pleasure, until the mortals came. Then they watched the birds and beasts they had so long protected ravaged by the new masters of the land." He smiled. "I'm afraid it drove them all quite mad."

A high-pitched, cackling laughter from the trio in response to this statement was enough to prove the truth of it to Finn.

"They vowed to take revenge upon any hunter they could," Tadg went on. He lifted a hand and gestured about the room. "As you can see, they have done very well at it. Of course, the well-known passion of the Fian warriors for the hunt has made them a particular enemy, so they were most eager to help me in my own revenge. Now I will leave you in their gentle hands. Good-bye, son of Cumhal."

He turned to walk away, but Finn called after him.

"Wait. Can you just leave me here?"

Tadg paused and looked back. "Of course I can. I've really no desire to witness what I'm certain will be a most unpleasant end. I only came to have a first and

final look at you. It is enough to see you helpless here and know that you are doomed."

"The others of our clan will cx)me.**

"It will be too late for you. And, if they come, they will only meet the same end as yourself I must go. I'm needed at Tara. The Samhain festival begins in just two days. Tm sorry, but it seems you'll not be attending it."

And before Finn could reply, he had walked out of the cave.

"A friendly sort, your grandfather," Crimall remarked dryly. "What now?"

The three women stepped back to the cave wall where the weapons of scores of victims formed a high mound. With care each one selected a good sword, checking the edges of the blades for keenness with the tip of a skinny finger.

"Now I think that well be dying," Finn answered his uncle.

The hags moved toward them, crunching heedlessly through the field of bones. Their appearance of fi-ailty was all gone fi*om them now. They looked tall, sinewy, and hard.

At the feet of their prisoners, they stopped. One of the trio leaned down over Finn. She stroked his cheek and smiled.

"This one is very pretty, sisters," she croaked out, looking up at them.

"Yes. Very pretty," another one agreed. "Such fine hair! It seems a shame to leave him suffering. Why don't we kill him first?"

"Yes! Kill him first!" cried the third, and the high, hideous screams of laughter fi-om all three echoed in the cave. For the first time Finn found himself regretting the attraction that he had for women.

They closed in around him, swords lifting. He struggled madly but hopelessly against his bonds. The weapons swept down. He threw himself sideways, rolling from beneath the descending blades. They smashed harmlessly into the bones. He tried desperately to wiggle away, only burrowing into the heaped remains.

"Hold him!" a sister cried, and one of the hags

leaped astride him, pinning him down while the other two came up on either side, raising their swords above his neck.

"Now you will be torn apart as our poor creatures have been," one of them promised.

"No he will not!" said a voice.

Startled, they turned their gazes toward the cave mouth. Finn lifted his head to look as well. Again the figure of a man was silhouetted there. But not Tadg this time, Finn saw. This man was clad in a dark cloak, a shield and sword in his hands. A warrior.

He stepped forward. As he moved out of the light, his features became visible. Finn's heart lifted in joy. It was Caoilte MacRonan.

"Let them go," he told the three sisters in a reasoning tone. "Let them go and you'll not be harmed."

He was unaware that he was dealing with lunatics. One of them shrieked, "Kill him, sisters!" and the trio swept upon him with the swiftness and savageness of attacking hawks.

Their sudden assault surprised the warrior. He barely managed to fend off their first flurry of wildly flailing blows. They became a whirlwind wailing about him, forcing him to wheel constantly in defense. The watching Finn realized that his comrade was fighting to hold them off, not striking back, reluctant to harm women, even ones such as these.

Then a sister darted in beneath his shield as he lifted it to fend off another blow. She thrust out, her sword point aimed at Caoiltes undefended befly. He spun to the right. The blade slipped by his side, slicing through his tunic, skittering along his ribs, scoring his flesh. It was not a dangerous wound, but it was surely painfijl. With it, the warrior's temper flared and his patience with the women reached an end.

Giving an angry bellow, he struck out with all his power. One blow severed a scrawny neck, and the hag's head plopped into the company of a legion of fleshless ones. A second well-aimed cut clove the waist of another sister to the spine, toppling her into the piles of bones.

Still the third hag was not ready to give up. In the grip of her insane lust for blood, she leaped upon him, howling like a wounded wolf, wrapping him with her lanky arms and legs, knocking him from his feet. They crashed down together into the mass of bones and thrashed about. Caoilte battled to throw her off while she clawed at his face with her hornlike nails and tried to tear his throat out with her jagged teeth.

Finally he worked the round shield between their bodies and then rolled over atop her, forcing her beneath him. His full weight upon the shield pinned her there while he brought his sword up, pressing the point against her throat.

This seemed to return some sanity to the woman. She ceased her struggling and cried out to him imploringly: "Oh, Champion, I put my body and my life under the protection of your bravery. And it is better for you to have your comrades back than to take my blood. I swear by the gods my people swear by, if you release me I will free your friends and do you no more harm!"

With that, Caoilte relented. He rose, letting the hag climb to her feet. But he watched her carefully, sword ready, as she went to the captives and began to untie their bonds.

"I never thought I would see you again, Caoilte!" Finn said to his friend. "What are you doing here?"

"iVe been watching you since you left the Boinne. I thought an extra bit of help hidden away would be of use, especially knowing your talent for walking boldly into danger. It's a guardian you still need, my lad."

"You are right," the abashed young warrior agreed. "Once more I owe you my life."

With the ropes finally unwound, they moved outside the loathsome cave, driving the hag ahead of them. Here Finn drew sword and hacked down the holly sticks, scattering the strands of fleece to the winds.

"You'll not use this trap against unknowing men again," he told the woman. "But you are free to leave here. IVe no wish to harm you or any of your people. Remember that."

He and his comrades watched the defeated hag slink away into the rocks of the hillside and disappear. Then Finn turned to Caoilte again.

"Does your coming here mean youVe decided to stay with us?"

The other nodded. "I realized after I'd left you that rd spent all my life seeking something, and I had found it with you. So I came back."

"I'm glad," Finn told him, grinning. "And once I have my father's place, you'll be a man of the Fianna, if you wish."

"I think we'd best just get to Tara first, all right?" Caoilte answered in a prudent way.

Book Four

FINN'S Trial

Chapter Twenty-nine

INTO TARA

The chariot bounced sideways into the turn, crashing into the one racing beside it. Both cars overturned, their teams tearing away. Two more chariots coming up from close behind were moving too fast to avoid the wreck. They ran full upon it, their horses caught up in a tangle, the frail cars splintering apart, the drivers trying to jump clear.

A lone survivor of the disaster, escaping just ahead of it, sped away up the course to the accompaniment of a lusty cheer from its supporters in the large crowd.

"A lucky win that was," Caoilte commented as he and the rest of the Fian band moved past the racing track.

On either side of them, other sporting events were in progress across the wide meadows below the fortress hill of Tara. There were several heated contests of hurling going on, each with its own screaming crowds of ardent fans. On several other courses there were more races being run with a variety of participants: horsemen on slim, long-legged steeds; lean, sharp-nosed hunting dogs; even fleet and wiry-hmbed young men. In other fields, warriors competed in wrestling matches, spear throvdng, and other tests of the warrior's strengths and skills.

"I wouldn't mind doing some competing here today," Caoilte said as they passed a spear-throwing contest. He grinned. "With Finn, we'd be certain to win a prize or two."

"We want to be bringing no extra notice to ourselves," Crimall reminded him.

"So far, we've had no notice at all," said Finn. "No one seems to be looking for us. Uncle."

"Maybe. If we're fortunate, your Tadg convinced the king that you are dead. Still, we can't be taking any chances now. You just keep that cap firmly upon your head. It's like a beacon your hair would be to them."

The young warrior was now sporting a large cap of fox fur. It was tipped at a jaunty angle, as if he were proudly displaying a new bit of finery at this public gathering. But its only purpose was to hide the shining white-gold hair.

Ahead, the great hill of Tara itself had become visible, and Finn's attention now went from the spirited games to it. The slopes around the high king's fortress were bedecked with bright pavilions, colorful banners, and rows of market stalls. They were alive with a constantly milling crowd of thousands.

"I would never have believed there were so many people in all of Ireland," Finn said, almost overwhelmed by the sheer numbers.

"Ah, well, they come from all the provinces for this one,*' Crimall said. "All the great festivals have a fair with them, and there are few larger than this."