Dog and Dragon-ARC (35 page)

“Thank you, Finn,” said the boy, as the piskies disappeared, leaping into the brambles that trailed over the green duckweed-covered pond.

“Think nothing of it. And thank Díleas,” said Fionn. “He’s the one to stay close to the boy. He’s smarter than piskies and he can smell them out. They’re not fond of bathing. Neither is he, but he’ll tell you that’s different.”

Fionn noticed the boy glued himself to Díleas and spoiled him where possible, and was soon playing various games with Díleas.

“He’s a very clever dog. You can’t pretend to throw something. And he was throwing sticks,” Owain told Fionn the next day.

“Ah. He’s trying to train you to fetch them and give them back,” said Fionn. “Some humans can manage that. His mistress juggles. He’s fascinated by that. Watch.” And he juggled as Díleas followed the balls. Fionn was amused to notice the young human and Díleas looking rather like marionettes on the same string. As they traveled, Fionn learned a great deal about Lyonesse, its ruling class and just what they’d been up to since he’d been trapped on Tasmarin. This Changer device had to go. It allowed them to leech the magic of other places into Lyonesse, but unbalanced everything—besides the socio-political effects, causing war and destruction.

Their transit across the heart of Lyonesse was relatively uneventful. Fionn was glad. It gave him a chance to think. He had an eye out for the various fay creatures, and the knockyan. A few questions kept him informed of where they’d last heard of his Scrap. She was being, as usual, a busy little lass. There were traces of her magic abroad.

She was busy fixing things. Fionn undid a few workings that were fixing things best left broken, or that hadn’t been broken in the first place.

CHAPTER 25

“Yes,” said the spriggan, even before Fionn had to do something like twist his ear. “She and the Lady Neve are up ahead. Half a mile or so. They’re moving across to the east to deal with a mob from Finvarra’s land. They’ve stopped at the stream to water men and beasts.”

All morning Díleas had simply wanted to run on, and had been doing little forays of a few hundred yards and then running back to chivvy them on.

Now Fionn came back to the small party of Southerners. “Let me go ahead. We’re just about there, and I’d rather there be no misunderstandings.”

Such was the extent that they’d got used to Fionn that no one even questioned this.

So he and Díleas ran. He could run steady as a horse at a trot all day if need be. Díleas had no such systematic method. He ran too fast, panted back, and then kept just ahead.

Fionn saw her in the distance, hair flared as she turned, a face he knew every line of, and his two hearts beat faster.

Díleas must have got the scent at that point, because he deserted Fionn and sprinted.

Díleas ran up to her with little crying whimpering noises. Danced up at Meb on his hind feet, and leapt up at her, making squeaking, yipping noises and literally quivering, his fan tail threatening to beat his head to death.

“Boy, you seem pleased to see me. You look just like my Díleas, only bigger and black.”

“Hrf AWHRFFF!” Díleas pawed at his neck.

“What’s wrong, boy? You got something around your neck?” She knelt down on the soft green turf next to the stream and pulled away some of the rolled cloth Fionn had covered the chain with. Looked at it. And with shaking hands she uncovered the bauble on his neck while Díleas attempted to cover her face with adoring doggy kisses. She saw the red glow of it and hugged him fiercely. “Oh, Díleas. It is you. It is! Oh my dog. Oh my baby.” Díleas sprawled himself against her, tongue hanging out, panting happiness.

She pushed him away a little bit, to look at him sternly. Still holding him with the other hand, of course. “But, Díleas, I told you to look after him. You didn’t leave him, did you?”

“No,” said Fionn. “He brought me along.”

She looked up from where she had her arms buried in Díleas’s fur. Looked at Fionn. He’d been nervous about this. Nervous about the passage of possibly years. He’d arranged his gleeman cloak—colors out—around himself, as he stood there.

“Finn!” she screamed and ran into his arms while an overexcited sheepdog danced and bounced and barked around them.

And for a long time, that was all, and that was enough. They stood with the dog leaning against their legs, holding each other.

Fionn was aware first of the humming. And then, looking down at Díleas who had just decided he needed to stop for a drink at the stream, the energy flow.

He dived at the dog, grabbing for its throat, snatching the now white-hot piece of crystal there, burning hair. It seared into his hand as he ripped it away, flinging it as hard as he could. It was still not hard or far or fast enough.

It exploded midair, perhaps seventy yards away in a column of violet and incarnadine fire. The explosion shockwave was enough to knock people down and send horses fleeing. Fionn pushed his burning hand into the stream. It steamed and the pain was savage. Díleas, shivering with fright, was in the water too.

“Finn!” screamed his Scrap, holding him. “What can I do!? Are you all right? Oh, Finn!”

“Need to keep it cold,” said Finn, through gritted teeth.

The stream began to crackle with ice growing in it. “Enough, Scrap. Enough.” She was a very powerful mage. And she was very frightened. He was lucky not to have the forelimb frozen off. Díleas scrambled out of the ice-sparred water. “Get a piece of ice and put it on the burn on Díl. I think I got it away from him in time, but check his throat and chest, ugh, worse than a hand.”

Fionn looked into the clear icy stream water at the damage. He was going to lose part of that limb. At least two talons’ worth.

But another two seconds and they would have been dead.

“What happened?” said Meb, shakily fending off the panicky ministration of another round-faced young woman. “I’m fine, Neve. Just frizzled my hair and lashes a bit. Fionn’s burned. And so is Díleas. Just tell everyone I am fine. Just helping the injured.”

“The tiny piece of primal fire that should have burned for several millennia was made to give up all its energy at once. Someone made it die in order to try and kill us. But the energy was limited and constrained by the crystal and the magic on it. So that had to grow hot enough to shatter before it could incandesce. Someone wanted to kill us.”

“Who?”

Fionn shrugged. It sent a wave of pain up from his hand. “In my case, there is quite a list. But there are very few powerful enough to do it this way. I thought the First had gone. I did not think the creatures of smokeless flame were able to do that, and I thought it would be too holy to them.”

“I’ll find them, burn their homes and plow their fields with salt,” said his Scrap grimly.

He could see her mother in her now. “They’d like that,” he said, with as much cheerfulness as he could muster above the pain.

“What…? Oh. Yes. I suppose they would. What would they fear and hate most?”

“Having known them, failure. It hurts worse than anything we could do to them.”

“Won’t they just try again?” she asked.

“Possibly. But doing so means admitting they’ve failed. Humans are quite used to failure. You admire people who keep trying. The First do not fail in their endeavors, so, gradually, they did less and less, just in case they did fail.”

He could read her expressions by now. That one translated as “It’s not enough.” But all she said was: “What about your hand?”

He shrugged again. Regretted it again. “I’m going to have to lose part of it.”

“Do you need a chirurgeon?” she asked, worriedly.

Fionn thought of the local bonesetters and what passed for medicine in Lyonesse, and how they’d deal with dragon skin and flesh. “No,” he said, wincing, pulling the injured hand out. The effects of that kind of heat were grave even on dragon skin and flesh. But dragon tissue did not transmit heat well. That was how they survived brushes with dragon fire. Two fingers and part of his palm to just below the knuckle were largely carbonized. So he bit it off. That was painful. But compared to the pain from the burn damage, not so awful. He squeezed the wound closed.

“You…just bit off half your hand,” said his Scrap, incredulously.

Fionn nodded. “Less damaging than the burn. My kind of dragon cells are toti-potent. It’ll grow again eventually. Dig into my pouch and give me a piece of gold to put on it.”

She did. Fionn noticed how the party with her had rapidly shifted from “with her” to “guarding her.” That was good, even if it would not have stopped this. With the gold there, and some mind control exercises, the bleeding slowed, and the pain eased. “That’s a bit better.”

Díleas licked him. Someone had shaved away the fur on his neck and upper chest. He had a blistering of the skin there, but it did not appear to be any worse. Fionn was still worried.

“How about we bandage the hand tightly with some pieces of gold against it,” said his Scrap.

“That sounds better than this,” said Fionn.

So they did. “How long have you been here?” asked Fionn as she wrapped torn linen around the hand. “Time can move quite differently in different planes, and I knew that it was possible that you’d be old, or even dead before I found you. You’ve grown. Well, yes the hair, but as a person.”

“I think four or five months. I missed you so badly, Finn. I really didn’t keep track too well at first.”

“I thought it could have been years.”

“Excuse me, m’lady. But there’s a party of Southerners approaching,” said the little round-faced girl. “What do you want us to do?”

***

Meb looked up from her bandaging at Neve. Neve had proved surprisingly good at telling other people what to do, that privies were needed, to fetch water, organize fires…on her mistress’s behalf, without her mistress having a clue what needed doing. But there were times when she felt it was politics, and insisted on leaving it to Meb…who felt that she knew more about privies. The Southerners were led by a sturdy, worried-looking boy, a girl on a smaller pony, supremely unconcerned about everything, and a woman, quite beautiful, with a young child sitting in front of her. Behind them were what could only be men-at-arms.

“Ah, Branwen and the children. That’s Owain, Elana on the horse, and little Selene with her mother. I brought them along.”

Meb knew a moment of terrible jealousy. Tried to stifle it. He’d just explained it could have been years. Probably was for them. And Díleas went running up, and dancing up at the boy. She would understand. She wouldn’t hate them.

“That’s quite tight enough, Scrap,” said Finn. “It’s Earl Alois’s wife and children. Officially, they’re hostages. Unofficially, I brought them along to teach him a lesson about attempting to kill my favorite human.”

“Oh. Um,” she colored. “I thought…”

He was always quick on the uptake. He gave a shout of laughter. “No, I haven’t decided to start collecting humans. Mind you, there was a farmer’s wife in Annvn who wanted to collect me. And besides, I think it’s been weeks rather than years, Scrap. It just felt like years, while Díleas led me to you.”

“He did? He’s so clever. Even though I wanted you to stay away.”

“You should see him herd sheep,” said Fionn. “We can talk about staying away in a while. Meanwhile, I am afraid I did give my word that they’d be as safe as I could make them.”

“I don’t trust Alois.”

“I wouldn’t too far. He is ambitious. But the boy is his life. They’re very patrilineal here. That’s what caused all the mess with the queen. Your mother.”

“What?”

“I’ll explain. But for now, maybe we need to be nice to Alois’s wife. She’s solid and sensible. If you get her on your side, she’ll keep him there. And Díleas likes the boy.”

So Meb graciously met the wife and children of the first man in Lyonesse to try and kill her. “I am sorry. We just had an attempt at assassination,” said Meb. “Finn saved us, though.”

“The spriggan Finn is a great warrior,” said Branwen. “Defender. I…I come to ask clemency for my husband, and help for the South. Alois wants to make his submission, but we face two great armies. And the fay seem to have risen against him.”

“I think I may have dealt with that,” said Finn. “But you may have to tell the piskies to stop harassing him, and to harass the invaders instead, Anghared.”

Spriggan? Anghared? thought Meb.

“It’s what you are, here,” said Finn, winking at her.

That was enough to make her smile. He was up to his Finn tricks again! “Lady Branwen, you and your retainers are welcome here,” said Meb. “This is our war band, and we are dealing with those who come in by the Ways. But that is a fair number of armies. I’ll discuss it with Finn and see what we can do for the South.”

“It is a part of Lyonesse, and very loyal to your mother,” said the woman, looking relieved.

Her mother. They all seemed to know a great deal more about her than Meb ever had. “I will see what can be done,” she repeated. “Now if you will forgive us, I’d like to finish dealing with Finn’s injury.”

The woman curtseyed, as did the little girl. The boy bowed. “Is Díleas all right?” he blurted, having not said a word earlier.

“We hope so,” said Finn.

“You’ll deal with whoever hurt him?” asked the boy, hand on his dagger. Plain that he would, if she wasn’t going to.

“Oh yes,” said Meb, “of that you may be sure. Even if it takes the rest of my life.”

***

“Tell me,” said Meb, once they had privacy and space again. “What brought you here, Finn? I mean I love you…”

“Oh, mostly my feet,” said Fionn, trying for insouciance. Scared of saying the wrong thing. “But then I got Díleas to stay in a basket while I flew. He knew precisely where to go, and took me to Ways between planes that I did not know of.”

“You know perfectly well what I mean,”said Meb, sternly. “You knew—because I asked the Sea and Groblek to tell you—what I had seen in the fireball of the creatures of smokeless flame. You knew I did this for you, Finn. To keep you alive. I saw what I saw. And I love you, and one of us will have to go away.”

Fionn took her in his arms. Held her for a bit, and said, carefully, and as calmly as he could. “The being of energy probably did not lie. But the truth is complex, and they leave things out to suit themselves. Or they tell the truth in ways so that we can deceive ourselves. It seems probable that my being with you will result in my death…”