'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 th
e 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.
'We've still got to lift her onto it,' said Bane.
'Aye,' agreed Connavar. 'Let's do it quickly.'
Laying the stretcher alongside the Seidh they took up their positions and heaved her onto it. This time there was no flickering light. Bane and Connavar gathered up the stretcher and followed Vorna towards the south-east. It was heavy going and both men were sweating profusely as they climbed down the last hill. Before them, in a large clearing, was a circle of standing stones, shining golden in the dawn light. 'I can't ... see any beasts,' grunted Bane, his muscles aching.
'Not yet,' said Vorna.
Slowly they approached the circle. Once more a mist swelled beneath their feet, swirling over the stones, rising higher and higher, blocking the sunlight. Then the mist thickened, growing blacker and darker, forming a dome of night over the stones. At the centre of the circle, beside a long flat altar, a glowing form appeared. Bane and Connavar carried the Morrigu to the edge of the circle and gently laid her down. A low growl came from the creature by the altar. Bane drew his sword, and let out a long, low breath. As Vorna had described, the creature was almost eight feet tall, its body covered with silver scales. Its long arms ended in wickedly curved talons. Bane looked into the beast's face. It had a long snout, almost like a wolf, yet with teeth like dagger blades.
'I'll take it from the left, you from the right,' said Bane, turning towards the king. 'What are you doing?'
Connavar had unbuckled his sword belt, and was now removing his breastplate and chain mail, his wrist guards and his greaves. 'Are you going to fight it naked?' asked Bane.
'I am not going to fight it at all,' said Connavar.
'Then what is your plan?'
Connavar knelt beside the stretcher and pushed his arms under the Morrigu. With one enormous heave he staggered to his feet, his knees almost buckling under the weight. He took one faltering step, then another, and crossed the circle past the tallest stone. The beast lumbered towards him. Bane ran into the circle, ducked under a sweeping talon and lashed his sword against the creature's belly. The sword bounced clear. Something struck Bane in the chest with terrible force, lifting him from his feet and hurling him from the circle. He landed heavily, but rolled to his knees in time to see Connavar staggering towards the altar. The scaled beast loomed above him, sending out an ear-piercing roar. The king ignored it and reached the altar, laying the Morrigu and her crow upon it.
As her body touched the stone the dome of darkness disappeared. Sunlight touched the scaled beast, and it began to shrink and fade. Bane climbed to his feet and, Vorna beside him, walked into the circle. The Morrigu's body began to tremble violently. A flame burst from her chest, setting fire to the cloth of her dress. Fire sprang from her fingers, the flesh falling away, dry and stiff, like shards of clay. The veil caught fire, peeling back from her face as flames roared up from her eyes. Brighter and brighter she burned, and the three onlookers stepped further back from the altar, shielding their eyes.
The fires died down swiftly, but the terrible brightness remained. 'Turn away,' came the now powerful voice of the Morrigu, 'for you must not see the Gateway open.' They obeyed her. Then her voice came again. 'I have always loved this world, which the Seidh named Tir na Nogh. I have cherished the belief that it will one day feed the soul of the universe from which it sprang. You spoke, Connavar, of spending twenty years seeking to protect the Rigante way of life. I have spent ten thousand years on ten thousand worlds seeking to protect life itself. Life is spirit. One cannot exist without the other. Deep in their hearts the Keltoi understand this. The people of Stone, save for the few Cultists among them, do not. I have seen the fall of worlds, and the conquests and desolation caused by the armies of lust and greed. Here Stone is the great enemy. On other worlds it is Rome, or Cagaris, or Shefnii, or Pakalin. The names change, the result of the evil remains the same: the death of spirit, the death of worlds.' Her voice faded for a moment, then she spoke to the king. 'Twenty years ago you asked a gift of me, and I told you there would be a price. That price is a simple one: when your brother calls upon you, do as he bids. No matter what else is pending, no matter the time or the greatness of events. You understand? Do as he bids.'
'Which brother?' asked Connavar.
'You will know. Do you accept this price?'
'I said that I would,' said Connavar. 'I will keep this promise - as I should have kept another promise all those years ago.'
'That is good,' said the Morrigu. 'And now to Bane. Will you offer me a gift?'
'What can I offer you, lady?'
'In eight days, on the night of the hunter's moon, you will return to this circle?'
'What then?'
'Whatever you choose. And now . . . farewell.'
The light faded. Vorna turned, and saw that the altar had disappeared.
'A simple thank you would have been pleasant,' said Bane.
Connavar pulled on his mailshirt and breastplate, and buckled on his sword belt. Bane approached him. 'How did you know the beast would not attack you?' he asked.
'I too would like the answer to that,' said Vorna.
Connavar knelt and put on his bronze greaves. 'The Morrigu took a great risk with us,' he said. 'She could have made it to the Gateway a week ago, as her energy was fading. Instead she stayed where she was, in the hope that we would come for her. I read it in her mind. She tried to close her thoughts to me, but by then she was too weak.' He straightened. 'I always thought of her as a malicious creature, but the depths of her love for this land and its people are beyond belief.'
'Yes, yes,' said Bane impatiently. 'She was a sweet and loving woman. But the beast . . . ?'
'The creature no human could overcome? It was a lesson, Bane. A good man tried to teach it to me many years ago. You cannot overcome hatred with more hatred. Sometimes you have to surrender in order to win. There are only three possibilities when faced with an enemy: run from him, fight him, or make him your friend. The creature in the circle was created to respond. Attack it - and it will come back at you with twice your strength. I ignored it. And it, true to its nature, ignored me.'
'You sound sad, my dear,' said Vorna, moving to his side.
'Oh that it were only sadness,' said Connavar. Then he walked away from them.
Two days later, at the head of ten thousand Iron Wolves and three thousand Horse Archers, Wik among them, Connavar rode south. The main body of his footsoldiers - just over twenty-five thousand men - had already begun the march under the generalship of Govannan. Hundreds of baggage wagons followed the army, which stretched over nine miles of country. The folk of Three Streams watched them go.
&nb
sp; Bane emerged from the Roundhouse as the king passed. Connavar saw him, and raised a hand in farewell. Bane acknowledged it with a brief wave. Then he mounted his horse and set off to the west, and his farm.
Vorna was standing by the forge as the army moved south. She watched Connavar until he was a distant, golden figure on the hilltop horizon, then she turned away and walked slowly to her house.
Meria was waiting for her there. 'It is a fine army,' said Meria. 'They will prevail.'
Vorna saw the fear in her green eyes. 'Let us hope so,' she said.
'It is Conn's destiny to defeat them,' said Meria. 'All his life he has known it.'
Vorna had no desire for company, but she stood politely, waiting for Meria to come to the point of her visit. 'Conn came to see you yesterday,' said Meria. 'How did he seem?'
'He was . . . thoughtful,' Vorna told her.
'Ever since the night he spent at Bane's farm he has been withdrawn. Did they argue? I see that Bane has not ridden south with the army.'
They did not argue,' said Vorna, 'and he did not spend the night at Bane's farm. He and Bane came with me to the Wishing Tree woods.'
Meria sighed. 'He did not tell me.' She forced a smile. 'But then he did not tell me the first time he ventured into those woods. Did he meet with the Seidh?'
'Yes.'
'Did they give him a talisman against the armies of Stone?'
'In a way.'
'It is foolish, I know, for me to worry so. Conn is forty years old. Not a child to be protected. It is just . . .' Her eyes brimmed with tears. 'It is just the way he said farewell to me.' Meria looked into Vorna's dark eyes. 'Have you seen the future?'
'No.'
'But you think he will come back?'
Vorna turned away, and stared at the towering, distant slopes of Caer Druagh. There were storm clouds shrouding the white peaks. 'I have not seen the future,' she said. 'But Conn has. He is a man of great courage and he will face his destiny as a king should.'
'Did he tell you what is to be?'
'You already know in your heart what is to be,' said Vorna. Meria closed her eyes and tears fell to her cheeks. She let out a soft cry and sagged against the wall of the house. Vorna put her arms around her. 'Come inside,' she said.