“It is a long time since such images last visited me; longer still since the interpretation sprang to my mind promptly and truly. I’m the most skilled healer in all the lands of the Priteni, Tuala. If I haven’t been able to hold back the course of this illness, who can?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “Perhaps what you need lies beyond the efforts of one man, whether he be king’s druid or no. I just know you are worth saving, and that if we can, we will do it. Maybe the vision was telling us simply that: be strong, be brave, be the best you can be. And not to give up hope, even in the darkest moment.”
His heart was beating fast; he felt as if he had leaped from a high cliff and landed, to his astonishment, in safe hands. He could feel the blood coursing in his veins; beyond the sward where they sat, druid, young woman, and child, the flowers of White Hill’s garden bloomed in colors that seemed, all of a sudden, brighter and more real than any he had seen before.
“All the same,” Tuala added soberly, “we should send a message to Bridei. He needs to be warned that all is not well in the north.”
“You think of everything.”
“Not quite,” she said. “As the king’s wife, I am still learning. Now, I’m going to send for Fola. Or, better still, I think we’ll go to Banmerren and pay her a visit.”
ANA HAD BEEN wreathed in a wonderful dream, a dream in which she had lain in Drustan’s arms, his body warming hers, his hands moving on her skin with a passion and tenderness that awoke sensations of surprise and delight, soon followed by an urgent, throbbing desire. The aching unfulfillment of this remained with her now as she awoke at first light in the little cave with its curtain of rushing water. The power of her physical feelings astonished her. Surely, if the body teetered thus on the brink of release, something of it must show on one’s face, in the eyes or in the flushed cheeks. Thank the gods Faolan was not here to read her thoughts. There were only the three birds on the rock ledges of the cave, the crossbill preening its scarlet feathers, the hoodie using its beak to probe some small creature out of a crevice, and the other one, the one that was some kind of hawk, though unlike any species Ana had seen before, simply fixing her with a bright, unwavering stare.
The dream faded; reality came flooding back. It was light. It was day, and Faolan had not returned. That could mean only one thing: Alpin had found him before he caught up with Deord. The two of them were captured, injured or dead. She was all alone in the forest with miles of unfamiliar territory on every side, clad in a damp wedding dress and with only Deord’s little knife to her name. And the birds, of course, but it seemed to Ana that they were unlikely to be of much assistance if Drustan himself was not close by. Their main role had always been as messengers; as extensions of the man himself. Without him, what could they do to help her?
She shivered, hugging the small blanket around her shoulders and trying to think practically. She could attempt to get back to Alpin’s fortress. Following the course of a stream should lead her, eventually, to the lake close by those stone walls. She could throw herself on his mercy. At least there would be warmth and shelter there. Alpin … Alpin who had brought that trapped expression to Faolan’s face as he forced him to tell her a half-truth he believed would turn her against her trusted friend, Alpin who had hit her, Alpin who would be very, very angry with her. Alpin who, it seemed, had no intention of honoring Bridei’s treaty, but intended to father sons on her anyway. She muttered to herself, going over the choices as the light brightened outside the cavern, presaging sunrise and a day on which she must leave this temporary haven one way or another, for one thing was certain: she’d no intention of starving here like a rat trapped in a hole.
“Drustan’s gone, isn’t he?” She addressed her question to the three birds, since they were the only available audience. “Gone back to the west. He loves that place, Dreaming Glen. It was his only true home; the only place where folk did not reject him. Of course he’s gone there …” Cruel; so cruel, after that vivid dream, which had felt utterly real. Had she been foolish and naïve, deluded by her notion of what love was? She had believed Drustan’s sweet words of passion and desire. She recalled Deord’s dry comment, “He’s a comely man,” and Faolan’s wordless perplexity as he tried to ask her how it had happened. “I thought he loved me,” she whispered to the birds. “I thought he meant it. But he’s not coming …” She swallowed the tears that threatened to overwhelm her. There was the day to be faced, and all the other nights and days of an impossible journey back to White Hill. Somehow she was going to have to do it alone.
“Ana?”
Faolan was at the cave entry, his clothing smeared with blood, his face white and exhausted. Relief flooded through her, and with it a terrible misgiving. “Faolan! Are you hurt? What about Deord? And … Drustan?”
His gaze flicked toward the birds, then back to her. “There’s no gentle way to put this. Deord’s dead. Alpin’s hunting party made an end of him.” And, at her murmur of horror, “I reached him too late to be of any help; all I could do was sit with him while he died.”
“How—”
“You don’t want to know, believe me. He died bravely; he took a number of Alpin’s men with him. Are you all right? I couldn’t get back last night, he was a long way off—”
“I’m safe and well, Faolan. Of course you needed to tend to Deord. It is terrible; so sad. He was a fine man.” She remembered how quick Deord had been to protect her when Alpin would have laid violent hands on her. She recalled him sparring with Drustan in the forest, a wondrous image of strength and grace. “I’ve often wondered what his past was and how he came to be at Briar Wood. I suppose we’ll never know now.”
Faolan said nothing. He had a small pack, Deord’s presumably, through which he was rummaging now, setting out what he found: a flint, a roll of linen for bandages, an oiled bag that might hold compressed tinder, strips of dried meat, a waterskin. A leather glove, thick and strong.
“Did you see anything of Drustan?” Ana had to force herself to ask; it would hurt so much to hear him say no.
“Deord was convinced he had left the fortress,” Faolan said, glancing quizzically at her. “He asked me to help Drustan get away safely. And to look after you. He thought of everyone except himself. He died because of us, Ana. A cruel waste. Alpin will pay for this.”
She had never seen him quite like this before. There was something frightening in his eyes. “Not entirely a waste,” she told him, “if we do our best to use the opportunity Deord has given us. To get away safely, and to live our lives with courage and goodness. To live them for him as well as for ourselves.”
“In time, perhaps I’ll learn to be philosophical,” Faolan said tightly. “You didn’t see what Alpin did to him. Now come on, we’re leaving. I’ve no doubt Alpin will be out on the trail again this morning with his henchmen, and by the time he reaches here I want to be well away. I suggest you tuck up your skirt or, better still, rip it off short, so you can climb. We’re heading up the cliff, and then over those hills.”
In silence, Ana took the little knife and used it to cut around the delicately embroidered skirt of her gown at a level two handspans above her ankles. She rolled up the damp strip of fabric and stuffed it into the pack; he did not need to tell her no evidence should be left behind. Without a word, she followed him out of the cavern.
“You wear this pack,” Faolan said. “It’s lighter. I’ve put most of what we need in mine. Best if you go first, then I can catch you if you fall. Don’t rush it. The rock’s slippery.”
“How will we know where to go, without Deord?” Ana was gazing upward; the precipitous cliff face loomed above her, its dark, slick surface softened here and there by tiny pockets of greenery. The air was full of fine spray.
“I’m hoping we already have a guide,” Faolan said as crossbill, crow, and hawk flew one by one from the cavern to spiral upward before them, leading the way. “At such an extreme, you have to take some things on trust. Up you go, then. I’ll be right beh
ind you.”
THE REST OF the day passed in a blur of climbing and scrambling, balancing and jumping, running over scree and rock, down muddy forest tracks and through dark, squelching patches of bog. When she thought she could go no farther, when her chest ached with each snatched breath and her knees shook with every step, Faolan would find a place of concealment and allow her a brief rest, a mouthful of water, and a bite of the detested dried meat, all too familiar from their last journey across country. For all the alarming look in his eyes he found kind words, words of praise and encouragement. Without those, Ana knew it would have been impossible for her to keep going at such a pace. Surely they must have left Alpin and his men far behind. Surely they must be able to camp tonight and not be in fear of attack.
The hawk flew ahead. Faolan followed the tracks it chose even when they seemed less than promising. They journeyed on high ground; the pockets of woodland lay far below them now, and their way was exposed to view as well as to the wind that blew chill across the hillsides even in these days of summer. Tiny flowers bloomed in crevices, raising jewel-bright faces to the sun. The shadows of high clouds danced across the bare flanks of the hills and pale grasses bowed before the breeze. In the distance, daunting peaks arose, purple and gray and deepest blue. There was no sign of human habitation, but deer and hare had left their traces on the hillside. At night, there might be wolves.
As the sun passed over to the west and the shadows lengthened, the hawk led them downhill again and back into a tract of pine forest. For the first time, Ana saw Faolan hesitate as hoodie and crossbill followed the bigger bird into the ever deeper shade of the tall trees.
“Are we beyond the borders of Briar Wood here?” Ana gasped, taking advantage of the brief pause to catch her breath.
“I don’t know,” Faolan said. “I’d sooner not be back in the wildwood; maybe it offers concealment, but it feels uncomfortably like Alpin’s home territory. I’ve seen how quickly he traverses this terrain with his hunting party. He knows his way about.” Ahead of them, the hoodie gave its familiar craaa sound, and the crossbill darted from bush to bush. The hawk could not be seen. “I suppose we have to trust him. Ready to go on?”
“Him?” she queried.
“The bird. He’s all we’ve got. Come, take my hand. You’re doing well. Now run.”
THERE WAS NO making fire that first night. They sat close, but not touching; they slept little and listened to the sounds of the forest: rustling in the undergrowth, squeaking in the foliage, the fey, hollow voices of owls, and once, in the distance, a chilling howl. Neither of them offered a suggestion as to what that might be.
The three guardian birds remained nearby. The crossbill was generally on Ana’s shoulder, the hoodie perched on the branch of a rowan, and the largest bird could be seen in the needled canopy of a dark pine. Whenever Ana looked up she met its bright, disconcerting gaze. It was an odd substitute for the one Drustan had lost, the tiny, softdowned wren. She wondered where they came from; whether he was able to conjure them when he needed them or exert his charm on the wild creatures of the forest to draw them under his spell. As he had done with Ana herself … Maybe he’d only been playing some kind of game with her. Men seemed to enjoy that sort of thing; look at Alpin. Maybe Drustan had never seriously considered that the two of them might have a future together.
“Are you crying?” Faolan’s voice was quiet, almost diffident.
“Of course not.” Ana sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve for want of anything better. “Why would I be crying?”
“I could enumerate five or six reasons.”
“I just … I just don’t understand why Drustan wouldn’t come with us,” she blurted out, unable to help herself, for her mind was going over and over it. “I know he thought he might hurt someone if he came out … But if Deord was right, if Drustan left Briar Wood freely, why hasn’t he reached us yet? I thought he would want to … I thought he cared about me …” It sounded pathetic; she bit back more words, but she could not stop the tears. “I hope he did get away,” she said shakily. “What if Alpin caught him, too? What if he’s …”
“Stop it, Ana.” Faolan did not sound angry, only very tired. “Just think of getting home and starting again. And be glad you’re still alive. There have been too many lost on this ill-fated mission of ours. If it helps, I don’t believe your precious Drustan is one of them.” He glanced at the hawk, and it stared back at him, eyes intent. “My instincts tell me he survived and got out of Briar Wood. What he decided to do from that point on is none of my business.”
There was a silence; his tone had been somewhat quelling.
“It is your business, Faolan,” Ana said eventually. “And mine. Didn’t Deord ask you to make sure Drustan was safe? He passed on his own responsibility to you. To us.”
Faolan’s voice was tight. “What are you suggesting we do? Go back to Briar Wood and check on him? Walk straight into Alpin’s welcoming arms?”
“What’s wrong with you, Faolan? Drustan is a fine man, a good man; I’ve never believed him guilty of the crime he’s accused of. I know he wouldn’t do such a thing. You were ready enough to go back for Deord, whom you knew no better. Drustan is in real danger. He could be wandering alone in the forest, with Alpin after him.”
“Just as we are,” Faolan pointed out. “And if he has any sense, he’ll get out of Alpin’s reach as fast as he can, just as we’re doing. I’m certain he’s safe, Ana. I think he knows how to look after himself. He’s probably a lot more self-reliant than you imagine.”
“Faolan?”
“Mm?”
“When you saw him—when you and Deord left the fortress—did Drustan say anything? About where he would go, or … Did he say anything about me?” She could imagine what Faolan would think—that she was obsessed, besotted—but it was impossible not to ask.
Faolan took his time about replying. “It would be better if you put this behind you,” he said at length. “You should try to forget it.”
“Just answer the question, Faolan. If Drustan said nothing of me, it’s best that I know, isn’t it?”
She heard his sigh.
“He was thinking of you above everything. He didn’t want to let you go, but he did, because what he wanted most of all was for you to be safe. He more or less ordered Deord to come with us.”
“Oh.”
“I wasn’t sure if Drustan would come out of Briar Wood. It seemed to me he was almost afraid to leave his confinement. Long imprisonment does that to some men. Deord seemed confident Drustan would make his escape, and Deord knew him far better than either of us did.” His manner seemed awkward, as if he were reluctant to tell her this, and from time to time he glanced at the birds.
“Are you worried that he’ll hear you?” she asked. Faolan stared at her, eyes narrowed.
“I mean,” said Ana, “there have been times in the past when he sent his creatures out and, when they returned, he knew what they had seen. I didn’t realize you knew about that.”
“I’ve seen it,” he said. “It’s a strange sort of gift.”
“Faolan?”
“Mm?”
“You don’t like him, do you? Drustan, I mean.”
“I don’t know the man,” Faolan muttered. “I know that Deord is dead and that you are bitterly unhappy. Drustan has played his part in both those things. What cause would I have to like him?”
“You could keep an open mind,” Ana said. “Don’t blame Drustan for what’s happened to us. The fault is Alpin’s. He should have refused the treaty and sent us home. That would have been the honorable course of action, if you’re right and he really is in league with the Gaels.”
“Tell me,” Faolan said, “if Drustan turned up now, how would you expect the future to unfold? Remembering, of course, our flight from his brother’s fortress under dubious circumstances, Alpin’s betrayal of Bridei’s trust, and the fact that we’ve no doubt earned this powerful chieftain’s lifelong enmity. Last but not least, there’s
the small fact that Drustan is … different. Markedly different from other men. You realize that when we get back to White Hill, Bridei will be looking for another chieftain or petty king to offer you to? Of course, he’ll be more careful next time. But there’s sure to be some worthy leader of strategic interest looking for a royal bride, even if she now has a reputation for getting herself in trouble.”
She drew a deep breath and let it out before she replied. “I can’t help what happened between Drustan and me, Faolan. You sound as if you despise me. All I did was fall in love.”
This appeared to have silenced him.
“As for what you asked,” Ana went on, “if Drustan came here now I’d be so happy I wouldn’t have room in me for anything else. But even if he doesn’t come, even if he chooses to leave me and go to the west, I’ll never consent to an arranged marriage. Not now. It just isn’t possible anymore. I’d have to tell Bridei I couldn’t do what he wanted.”
“You think Bridei would agree to your union with a—a—”
“A what, Faolan? A madman? A murderer? Drustan isn’t either of those things. I’m certain it was all lies, or a misunderstanding”
“Do you remember what you told me on the way to Briar Wood?” he asked her. “That you wanted to go home, but that duty must always come first, because you bore the royal blood of Fortriu?”
“I was wrong,” she said, wondering what it was that made him so cruel tonight. “Back then, I didn’t know what love was. I didn’t realize it would change everything. I thought it only happened in stories; finding the one person in the world who is your perfect complement, the one who makes you whole. But it’s true. How could I reject that, if I were fortunate enough to have him come back for me? I don’t expect you to understand. I just hope that, one day, you’ll be lucky enough to meet someone who makes you feel like this.”
“Wretched and tearful?”