Midnight Falcon (43 page)

'Do not be foolish, boy,' said Connavar angrily. 'This is a magical place, and mortals are not welcome here. You are young and strong. In a few hours you could come stumbling from this place white-haired and stick-thin.'

'You think I should leave my friend to face the dangers alone?' Bane asked him coldly.

'Neither of you should enter,' insisted Conn. 'The Morrigu said she would be here. She is not. The fault is not ours!'

'I must go,' said Vorna. 'I know this. In all my years I have never felt this strongly about anything. I know in my heart that I must walk these woods. And walk them in faith!'

'But I cannot, Vorna,' said Conn sadly. 'For the first time in many years I am afraid. To the south is an enemy who will destroy everything we hold dear. All my life I have been preparing for this moment. Can you understand that? I have put aside love and family, and all pleasures of the flesh. For twenty years I have laboured to give us just one fighting chance of preserving our way of life. If I risk myself now all may be lost!'

'Then wait here, my dear,' said Vorna. 'Bane and I will see what is wrong.' She turned away from him, and, taking Bane's hand, began the walk to the trees. Bane drew one of his swords, but Vorna placed her hand on his wrist. 'Put it away,' she said. 'There is nothing beyond that can be fought with iron.'

He sheathed the blade. As they approached the trees a mist seeped up from the damp earth, forming a wall. Vorna paused, her heart beating fast. 'Hold fast to my hand,' she whispered, then walked into the mist. It was colder than ice and it swirled up over their shoulders, clinging to their faces. Blind now, they moved slowly onwards. Bane stretched his arm out to the front, moving it back and forth. He could not see his fingers. Nor could he see Vorna, though he felt the warm touch of her hand upon his. Inch by inch they eased their way into the wood. Bane's outstretched hand touched the trunk of a tree and they moved around it. Time passed, and neither of them had any sense of direction. Vorna stumbled, for the cold was intense, and she felt her legs growing numb. Bane pulled her upright.

'This', he said, teeth chattering, 'was not the best idea you ever had.'

Vorna put her arm round his waist. 'I fear that is true,' she said. She slumped to the ground. Bane knelt beside her. 'It is not over yet,' whispered Vorna. 'Wait and see.'

'It would be nice to see,' Bane told her.

They huddled together. Vorna took off Bane's heavy sheepskin cloak and curled it around the freezing man's shoulders. She spoke a Word of Power to make a fire. As the flame sprang from her fingers the mist settled around it, extinguishing it even as it was formed.

'I see something,' said Bane. 'To the right.'

Vorna strained to peer into the mist. Then she saw it, a tiny flicker of light. 'Over here!' she called. The light froze in place momentarily, then slowly moved towards them.

The mist parted before it, and they saw Connavar the King advancing into the wood, his Seidh sword held before him, the blade gleaming brightly. The mist receded from it, the gnarled trunks of the old oaks looming out of the grey.

As the last of the mist disappeared Connavar thrust his sword back into its scabbard. Vorna climbed to her feet and looked into his scarred face. 'I knew that you would come,' she said. 'And do you know why? Because this is the way of life you have been defending, a friend standing by a friend, ready to risk life for the sake of another. This, my dear, is Rigante!'

'Let us find the Old Woman,' he said gruffly. But even as he spoke he put his arm round Vorna and kissed her brow.

The three companions moved further into the wood. On the ground ahead of them lay a dead bird. It was large and black, the skull above its beak bare of feathers. Bane knelt by the bird. 'It is the Morrigu's crow,' he whispered.

'Bring it with us,' said Vorna.

Bane lifted the bird. He was surprised by the weight. 'It is heavier than a puppy,' he said.

Vorna walked on, Connavar beside her, Bane following. There was no wind here, the temperature much higher than on the hillside. The companions came to a downward slope. 'I remember this place,' said Connavar. 'This is where I came as a child.'

Vorna halted in her walk, and closed her eyes. 'She is close.'

They moved on, splashing through a shallow stream, and on up a steep slope. Vorna stepped from the trail, and pushed her way through the undergrowth to a small clearing. The Morrigu was sitting propped against a tree. Ivy had grown over her legs and had covered one arm. There was moss upon her cloak, and a spider had weaved a web from her veil to the tree trunk. Vorna ran to her side.

'How does a goddess die?' whispered Bane.

'She is not dead. Not yet,' replied Vorna, laying her hands upon the veiled head. A low, feeble groan came from the Morrigu, and her ivy-covered arm twitched.

'Where is my Bab?' she whispered. Vorna swung to Bane.

'Bring her the crow!' Bane knelt on the other side of the Morrigu and laid the dead bird in her lap.

The Morrigu tried to move her arm. Connavar crouched down and ripped away the ivy. Slowly the old woman's hand came up until it rested on the black feathers of the dead crow. She sighed then. Once more Vorna placed her hands on the head of the goddess, sending healing power surging into her. It was little more use than a drop of water to someone dying of thirst.

'I should have passed the Gateway long before this,' said the Morrigu, her voice a tiny whisper they had to strain to hear. Then her head sagged back against the tree.

'Gateway?' queried Bane.

'Many of the Seidh have already crossed over,' said Vorna, 'seeking other worlds where magic is still strong. I don't know why she remained so long.'

'Where is this Gateway?' asked Connavar. 'Perhaps we could carry her there!'

'I do not know,' said Vorna. 'I have not been so far into these woods before.'

'Can you not Merge with her?' asked Connavar. 'You did this once before to save me.'

'Merge with a Seidh? I do not know if I could, or whether my body or my soul could withstand it.'

'It . . . could not,' whispered the Morrigu. 'And you cannot take me to the Gateway. It is guarded by a creature no human can overcome.'

Vorna took hold of her hand. 'Show me the Gateway,' she insisted.

A flicker of light glowed from under the skin of the Morrigu's hand, and flowed along Vorna's arm. The witch stiffened and cried out. Then she sagged into the arms of Connavar. 'Oh, the pain,' she whispered. She sat very still for a moment as the burning agony in her head receded. She glanced at the Morrigu, who was once more unconscious. 'The Gateway is close by,' said Vorna. 'No more than half a mile to the south-east. It stands within a golden circle of stone. There is a path to it known as Piare la Naich, the Walk of Life. She must be carried along it, her body passing between the two tallest stones. But I saw the monster there. It is hideous and scaled. In some respects it is like a bear, though the talons and teeth are longer, and the hide tougher than leather. You heard what she said, no human can overcome it. What is it that we should do?' she asked Connavar.

The king sighed. 'She gave me a gift once, and I have not repaid her. A man should always pay his debts. I will carry her to the Gateway, and if necessary I will cut the heart from the beast.'

'I fear you will not be able to carry her alone,' said Vorna. 'A moment ago I lifted her hand. She appears slender and frail, but her body weight is several times that of a grown man.'

Connavar pushed his arms under the unconscious Seidh and strained to lift her. 'It is as if she is anchored to the ground,' he said. He looked at Bane. 'Will you help me?' he asked simply.

'Why not?' answered Bane. 'It is not every day you get to see a king fight a demon bear.'

The two men crouched on either side of the goddess and prepared to lift her. At that moment a glow began beneath the Morrigu's veil. Flickering lights swept along under her skin.

'Release her!' yelled Vorna. But it was too late. Both men began to glow, as if fire was burning within them.

Bane opened his eyes. There was something strange about his vision. He blinked, trying to clear his head. He could see better than ever before. No, not better, he realized. Wider! From this prone position he could see the trees behind him and before him. How peculiar, he thought. He tried to rise, and pain pricked him. Startled, he tilted his head and looked down. It was not the sharp brambles in which he was trapped that stunned him, causing his heart to flutter wildly. It was the fact that when he looked down he saw not his own body, but the pale legs of a white fawn. Panicked now, he struggled to rise. The thorns cut deep into his legs and flanks. He tried to call out, but heard only a frightened bleat. His back legs kicked at the brambles and he half rose, then fell back. One of the brambles snapped, and whiplashed across his face, cutting into the soft skin of his long neck. Then he saw the boy at the edge of the brambles. He was around ten years old, red hair framing a pale, freckled face. He drew an old bronze knife. The child advanced into the brambles, which wrapped themselves around him, tearing his tunic and cutting his skin. For a moment Bane thought the child was intending to kill him, and his fawn's body struggled wildly. The child spoke: 'Be still, little one. Be still and I will help you.'

The voice was soothing. The fawn that was Bane looked into the strangely coloured eyes of the child. It is Connavar, he thought. The boy slowly cut away the brambles and lifted the fawn clear.

The world spun, and darkness fell over his vision. When it cleared he was still being carried, but this time at some speed. He was lying in the arms of a young man who was running awkwardly over the hills. Bane became aware of his own weakness. His arms were thin, lacking muscle and power. And he could not feel his legs at all. His head turned, though he did not will it to do so, and his eyes saw a huge black bear lumbering across the hills in pursuit. Blood was on its snout. And it was gaining. Bane was now looking up into the straining face of the young man carrying him. It was Connavar, young and beardless. His teeth were gritted, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Bane heard a voice and realized it was coming from his own mouth. 'Put me down. Save yourself.'

The runner stopped, and Bane felt himself lowered gently to the grass. The young Connavar drew a dagger and faced the charging beast. 'Oh, please run!' Bane heard himself say.

'I'll cut its bastard heart out!' said Connavar – and leapt to face the beast.

Bane watched in silent horror as the bear's talons ripped at the frail body of the young warrior, its teeth crunching down on the shoulder. He fought to the last before being thrown aside like a bloody rag.

The darkness fell again, and when his eyes next opened his body exploded with agony beyond enduring. He almost blacked out with it. Indeed he wished he could black out. He was lying face down on a long table, his wounds bandaged, fire burning through his veins. He saw Vorna sitting beside him. She was younger, but her face showed her exhaustion.

'How are you feeling?' she asked him.

'Better,' he heard himself say.

'You will take time to heal, young man.'

'I must be strong by the time of the Feast,' he said. 'I am to wed Arian.' Bane felt the surge of love and need within the youngster, but he saw also the sadness in Vorna's eyes.

'You must rest now,' she ordered him.

Bane-Connavar was sitting upon a pony. He was very tired and weak. Crowds were lining the way, cheering and clapping, and he saw that he was riding into Three Streams. His body was still ablaze with pain, but his head turned back and forth, seeking out the golden-haired girl he had dreamt of for so long. Bane felt his anguish when Connavar realized she was not among those cheering him.

He was helped from his pony, and Bane saw Meria and Ruathain. They helped him to a bed and laid him upon it. The scene shifted and became dark, and from the darkness came a voice. 'I suppose you haven't heard about Arian. She married Casta at the Feast of Samain.'

A groan came from the stricken youngster, and Bane felt sorrow engulf him.

'I'm sorry, Conn. I tried to tell you that she didn't care for you,' said the voice.

Bane felt the grief, and with it almost a seeping away of the will to live. All that saved the young man was a seed of anger, which flowered in his heart like a rose tipped with acid.

'Bane! Bane!' The voice seemed to come from far away, and he felt Vorna's hands upon his shoulders, dragging him back from the body of the Morrigu. He groaned and sat down upon the earth. Then he looked across at the still figure of Connavar, crouched over the Old Woman. Bane rolled to his knees and rose unsteadily. Staggering to the king he dragged him back and laid him on the grass.

'What happened?' Bane asked Vorna.

'Her spirit flowed into you. I thought it would kill you.'

Bane rubbed his hands over his eyes. 'I saw things, Vorna. I watched Connavar fight the bear. I saw . . . him, in the cave, speak to you about my mother.'

'He loved her very dearly,' she said softly. 'They were to be wed . . .'

'I know. She . . . betrayed him.'

'Do not think of it as betrayal,' she said. 'Arian was a fey and troubled woman. She needed someone to lean on, to keep the darkness at bay. Everyone thought Conn would die. This terrified Arian. So she wed Casta. But all this is in the past now. Let it go.'

The king grunted and sat up. 'We will need to make a stretcher,' he said. 'I could not go through that again.'

'What did you see?' Vorna asked.

'We must cut poles,' said Connavar, 'and thread them through Bane's cloak. It is the strongest cloth we have. I believe it will take her weight.'

He pushed himself to his feet. Vorna moved to stand before him. 'What did you see, Conn?'

'Too much,' he told her. Drawing his sword he walked away into the trees, returning with two stout lengths of wood. Taking his dagger he chopped twigs and leaves from the lengths. Then he spread Bane's sheepskin cloak upon the earth and cut a series of slits along both sides before sliding the poles through them.