The Boar Stone: Book Three of the Dalriada Trilogy (28 page)

‘A
m I dead?’ Minna asked faintly.

No.
There was a smile in the air, if that were possible.
You are far from dead.

Minna’s heart gave a great bound. ‘Mamo?’ she whispered.

A pause.
No, child. But she is safe.

‘Safe? Where is she?’

She is resting, sleeping. Perhaps she will speak to you one day … but not now.

‘Then … where am I?’ Minna realized as she said it that she didn’t feel afraid. She
should
feel afraid. But it was warm now, and the warmth was a blanket that would let no fear in. She didn’t know if her eyes were open or shut because light was coming from all around her.

You are of the spirit now. It took this – effort, cold, exhaustion, sickness – to loosen the bonds of the body. To break open the shell and free the spirit.

‘Then I
am
dead.’

Again the amusement.
No, dear one. Spirit and body can travel separately and still be joined, until the final sundering.

‘How?’

In dreams, in vision, in fevered sleep. While seeing, when you surrender.

An idea snagged and held. ‘Then it was you in the woods, not Mamo?’

Yes.

‘And you calling me, after Jared gave me the red flower …’

You had to have the courage to let the body go and step through the doorway. I didn’t want you thinking you would be alone when you did.

Emotions shouldn’t exist in this place, but the loneliness that bore Minna down then was greater than any before. For she had tasted it from the day she was born.

You’ve never been alone. I have been close, in dreams. And … in other ways.

‘But … what …’

There is so little time. For now, open your eyes.

‘My
eyes
?’

Do it, and see. Remember.

A tenderness in the voice touched Minna like a kiss on her brow. It felt female … but young? Old?

Stop thinking. Open your eyes and don’t be afraid.
And the voice began singing sweetly, wordlessly.

When Minna thought of opening her eyes it seemed to happen, and she had to stop herself crying out. She was soaring through a blue sky, her arms spread – only they were not arms any more, but wings. Long feathers curled up at the tips, and a narrow head tilted so her keen eyes could gaze down. The breeze rushed under her, merging with the singing so she was lifted by both the voice and the wind. The sense of freedom was exhilarating, the power filling her chest as she cried, ‘An eagle!’ But no words came, only a screech flung from a feathered throat.

The singing continued as Minna dipped and banked. At long last the melody faded.
Yes, it is fine, it is joy.
No one was with her, no one flying beside her, but still she sensed those thoughts.
Do not lose your focus, though. Look down now.

A land stretched beneath her, no longer covered in cloud or veils of mist, but a glorious melding of mountains, bracken, birches and heather. The air was clear as water, and smelled icy and sweet, of rock and streams and pine needles. It was Alba in leaf-fall.

It is beautiful. But study it closely.

There was Dunadd, and then the ancestor valley – Minna recognized the ancient tombs beading its length. To the north a long, silver loch was studded with islands. Swooping low over its ruffled surface, Minna saw the sacred mountain Cruachan rearing up at its end, a mighty monarch.
More,
the voice urged.
Go further.

She was flying faster than any eagle could. One wing-beat took her over the soaring slopes of the mountain. She could see a long chain of lochs reaching to an eastern sea, and to the south a region of high peaks and deep-delved valleys. She tilted to left and right in great arcs as she followed first one valley then another, her wing tips nearly brushing the rocks.

Then ahead reared an imposing ridge of many peaks that irresistibly drew Minna down. A cleft in its slopes faced west, and there a gnarled rowan tree clung on, its branches bare of leaves. With a great uplift of wings, Minna landed on the thickest branch, making the tree dip and sway.

Before she could assemble her thoughts her beak stretched up, and from her throat issued a cry she could not contain. It was a demand from the king of the mountains, the great eagle, sent to earth from its eyrie. And though Minna heard it as an eagle’s screech, the meaning of the words lit up her mind.

Awake, battle-lord,

For the war-horns cry!

Arise, for the sign is come!

Take the name sword-wielder

Blade-singer

Shield-bearer.

Hear your blood call you,

Raise the boar above you,

Make an end, battle-lord,

The red-crests come
!

Minna found herself staring into the water, and there was the sky and the trees marked on the cold surface of the pool. Her breath misted the icy air beneath the bare branches, and the only other thing that moved was her blood, racing with the remnants of joy and awe. She stretched her aching neck and looked up.

The king and Brónach were both staring down at her, their faces frozen.

Minna shifted her gaze to Cahir, her mind untethered, and faltered at the horror in his eyes.

Then everything became confused. Cahir pushed Brónach aside to get to Minna between the overgrowth of brambles and thorn, crying out that the old woman had nearly killed her.

Brónach ignored him. ‘You
saw
,’ she whispered to Minna, fingers creeping to the moonstone around her neck. ‘You saw – with no training, fasting or chanting. But how can the Mother reveal herself to
you,
an untrained slip of a girl?’ The shock in her eyes was sharpening to anguish. ‘
How can this be
?’

The cold was coming up through Minna’s palms now, spread on the icy soil, and she began to shiver. ‘Silence!’ Cahir roared to his aunt, gathering Minna into his arms and straightening. ‘I will get her warm again, and as for
you
– leave this place.
Now
.’

The expression on Brónach’s face was unearthly, eager and torn at the same time. ‘But the words she spoke held truth, nephew. I sensed it, I
know
it!’

Cahir went rigid. ‘The words she spoke are no concern of yours.’

Cahir carried Minna back to the hut and set her on the bed, wrapping blankets about her shoulders. Brónach gathered her belongings and left without a word, though she darted a single bright, hard glance at Minna from the doorway.

A heavy silence descended over the room as Cahir stood by the fire with his hands by his sides, his back to Minna as she crouched in the bed, shivering uncontrollably.

Her soul had been split open, and so her joy and wonder were swiftly eclipsed now by all the other things she had suppressed for months, freed by the tenderness in that spirit-woman’s voice. And so came the grief for Mamo at last, undammed, uncontained and pure in its terrible power.

She turned her head to the pillow and fell down in darkness, weeping as if she would never stop.

Cahir crouched by the flames and fed them with hazel branches, listening to Minna’s sobs being almost bodily wrenched from her. It was better to leave someone like that, sometimes – he remembered holding his daughters through such things.

He stayed squatting there as the fire caught and began to eat the wood, his eyes glazed. It took a long time for Minna’s sobs to ease, but at last they faded, and she slept.

Cahir waited for her to wake as night fell, pacing the floor at first slowly, and then faster and more agitatedly as his thoughts gnawed on him.

When she stirred, he paused only to hand her a cup of water and then stood over her. He wanted to give her more time, but he could not. ‘Minna,’ he said, as she drank and lay back against the pillow, her face pale and bruised by tears. ‘You must tell me immediately how you know that which you cried at the pool.’

Minna’s fingers went to her swollen cheeks. Though she had wept until she could cry no more and should be empty, she found the absence of grief had left her full of wonder instead, and she felt Mamo close by, for she was no longer turning away from her.

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she answered slowly. The time by the water was now a blur. ‘What did I say?’

Cahir did not hesitate, throwing back his head like a wolf howling.

Awake, battle-lord,

For the war-horns cry
!

Arise, for the sign is come
!

Take the name sword-wielder

Blade-singer

Shield-bearer.

Hear your blood call you,

Raise the boar above you.

Make an end, battle-lord,

The red-crests come
!

The delivery was both bitter and passionate, the words a summons that set her blood alight. But he didn’t give her a chance to feel them, pointing at her accusingly. ‘No one knows this but me. It is the most forbidden, the most private legacy of my lineage. How can you know this?
Why
?’

Her tongue wet her cracked lips. ‘I … it came from the vision …’

He loomed over her, his face haunted. ‘If you play me for a fool, Minna, there is no telling what I will do. If they put you up to this, Maeve, Brónach, anyone …’ He left that hanging, shook his head. ‘The war cries and the Hill of a Thousand Spears were one thing; they are known by some, at least.
But no one knows this.
Do you have any idea what fire you play with?’