Sword in the Storm

  'By Taranis, I'll kill you myself,' stormed the giant.

  'I accept the challenge,' said Conn, angry now. 'As soon as I have killed these two I will make myself available to you. And I hope you fight better with a sword than you do with your fists, for you are old and slow and I will cut you to pieces.'

  The force of his fury radiated out over the group, and a silence fell upon them. Conn removed his cloak, folded it and threw it to Parax. Then he drew his Seidh sword and stepped back, slashing the blade through the air in a bewildering series of glittering arcs as he loosened the muscles of his shoulders and arms. The speed of his movements was dazzling, and not a man present failed to appreciate how deadly was this young warrior. Parax glanced at Fiallach and saw doubt in his eyes. As a fist fighter he was greatly skilled, but Conn was right. He was too heavy in the arm and shoulder to be fast with a blade.

  'Cut the first one loose, Parax,' said Conn.

  'No!' said the Lady Llysona, panic in her voice. 'There will be no killing. This has gone far enough. Can you not accept, Connavar, that the . . . removal of your ponies was not theft, but merely a joke in bad taste?'

  'I see,' he replied, coldly. 'The same kind of joke that places the Long Laird's servants in a lice-infested hut, with rats for company?'

  The same kind,' she agreed. 'Let us make a new start, Connavar. I see I misjudged you. The fault was mine. Can we begin again?'

  Conn sheathed his sword, took back his cloak from Parax, and bowed once more. 'Indeed we can,' he agreed, casting a glance at Fiallach, whose face had turned grey with anger. Drawing his dagger he cut the ropes tying the two men.

  'Have you broken your fast?' Llysona asked him.

  'Not as yet, my lady.'

  'Then you and your servant can join us in the hall.' Llysona swung on her heel and walked back through the doorway.

  Fiallach strode across to where Conn stood. 'Don't think this is over,' he hissed. 'You are mine. By all the gods I swear it.' Then he followed the lady inside.

  'You may not be good at making friends,' whispered Parax. 'But by Heaven you are second to none when it comes to making enemies.' .

  Tae rode beautifully, the white gelding responding instantly to each delicate touch on the reins or movement in the saddle. 'He is wonderfully trained,' observed Conn, as they crested the last rise and rode up to the edge of the cliffs overlooking the sea. 'Did you train him yourself?'

  'No. My cousin Legat trains all our mounts. He has a way with ponies. I swear he speaks their language. No whip or stick. He talks to them and they seem to understand him.'

  'My father was said to be like that,' said Conn, noting the young man's name. He would need expert horse handlers for his new herds. The breeze picked up, blowing in from the sea, cold and fresh. Tae's dark hair billowed out like a black banner, exposing her long neck. Like a swan, he thought, a beautiful swan. 'Let's move back into the shelter of the trees,' he said. 'We'll tether the ponies and look around.'

  The wind here was broken by the tree line. They dismounted and Conn walked back to the cliff edge, climbing down and sitting on a jutting rock. From here he could see the river and the distant estuary. There were many landing places along the shoreline. Tae joined him, and he drank in the beauty of her walk, tall and proud, with an unconscious grace.

  'It is beautiful here,' she said. 'This is one of my favourite places.'

  'Aye, beautiful,' he replied. He turned away and stared down at the shimmering water below.

  'What are you thinking?'

  'I am seeing longships move up from the sea, and beaching along the shore. The land falls away from the west, and the only warning Seven Willows will receive is when the first of the raiders crests the hill a mile above the settlement.' He scanned the cliffs then returned to the ponies. They rode south along the cliffs, the ground steadily rising. At last they reached a point where the distant stockade could be seen. 'There should be a tower here, constantly manned. And over there a ready-laid beacon fire. In the day it could be doused with lantern oil. When lit the smoke could be seen from the stockade. That would treble the warning time.'

  'Yes, it would,' she agreed. 'But the raiders have not landed here in ten years. That's a long time to leave someone sitting in a tower.' She smiled as she spoke.

  'It is a puzzle,' he said. 'Further north the river narrows, and there are fewer landing sites and only small settlements. Yet they have been raided several times in the last two years. It makes little sense to me.'

  'Perhaps the Seidh favour us,' she offered.

  'Obviously.' Moving back towards the east they dismounted again at the edge of a small wood overlooking the stockade. 'I would place four towers, one at each of the corners, and have bowmen trained to man them. And a wide ditch dug out around the settlement, studded with sharpened stakes.'

  'I have a question for you,' she said.

  'Ask it.'

  'Would you have killed Farrar and the others, or was it just a clever ploy to make Mother see reason?'

  The question worried him. He had already established that Tae was a gentle soul, and did not want her to think badly of him. The way she put it gave him an easy escape, but he did not want to lie to her. 'I would have killed them,' he said. 'But I did hope that your mother would speak out.' He saw the disappointment in her face. 'I am sorry, Tae.'

  'Is it so easy to kill?' she asked. 'It seems to me that a life should be considered precious. Farrar has a wife and two small children. He adores them, and they him. He can be pompous and condescending. But at heart he is a sweet man. Yet he could have been killed for depriving you of your pony for a little while.'

  'I can see how it could look that way,' admitted Conn.

  'To a woman, you mean?'

  'To someone gentle and kind,' he replied. 'I am still young, and I have much to learn. Had I been wiser I probably could have handled the situation without threats. As it is, though, no-one died, and my mission continues. I am not an evil man, Tae. I do not seek the death of any brother of the Rigante.'

  He saw her relax. 'Let us talk about something other than war,' she said. 'Let us enjoy the beauty of the sky, the raging wonder of the sea, the magnificence of the sun rising. Let us talk like two people merely enjoying the company of each other. You promised me a glimpse of a tender heart, Connavar. I am wondering when I shall see it.'

  'Would you have me pay you compliments, Tae?'

  'Compliments are always welcome to a woman. As long as they are sincere.'

  He fell silent for a while, and continued to scan the surrounding hills. 'You are thinking of war again,' she chided, gently.

  'Not at all. I was thinking of you. Truth to tell I have thought of little else since first we met. If I close my eyes at night I see your face and you are the first thought in my mind when I wake. It is very . . . distracting.'

  He turned towards her, stepping in close. She did not move back, but tilted her head back, expecting a kiss. Then they heard a horse approaching. Conn walked towards the sound. Parax was riding up the hill. He waved as he saw the young warrior, and urged his pony on.

  'We need to talk,' said the hunter.

  'Can it not wait?'

  The old man saw Tae standing by the trees. He slid from his pony. 'Aye, it could wait. But hear me first. You said there has not been a raid here in ten years?'

  'Yes.'

  'Then why do I find evidence that a longship beached here no less than two days ago?'

  'You are sure it was a longship and not a fishing boat?'

  'Would you mistake the spoor of a rat for a horse?' answered Parax, sharply.

  'You are tetchy today, old man.'

  'Aye, well, I've not been charmed by the company of a beautiful lass. Anyway, there is more. Men climbed down from the longship. Maybe as many as twenty. It was hard to tell. They were met by a rider from Seven Willows. He rides a pony with a chipped hoof. Then they sailed away.'

  'Show me,' said Conn.

  Minutes later the three riders rode along the
shoreline. Conn saw the deep trench made by the keel of the longship, and the churned mud on both sides where warriors had jumped down to haul it in. Further back they found the remains of a fire. 'What does it mean?' asked Tae.

  Conn shrugged. He had not told her of the rider. 'A longship beached here several nights ago. That is all we know. Perhaps it was a scouting party. It is hard to tell.'

  They rode back to Seven Willows in silence, and Conn, having first obtained directions to the house of Phaeton, bade farewell to Tae.

  The merchant was at home when Conn and Parax rode up. He was a tall middle-aged man, with greying fair hair and an easy smile.

  'Banouin spoke of you often,' he said. 'It is a pleasure to meet you. Come inside. I will ask the cook to prepare you a meal. I'll have to do it carefully, for she is a hard woman and rules my house with iron discipline.'

  'She is your wife?' asked Parax.

  'No. I hired her five years ago. She is a fine cook and housekeeper. But she is angry with me because I am selling up and moving south.'

  The three men strolled inside. From outside the house looked little different to the other homes nearby. Inside, however, it was designed like a villa, the wooden walls overlaid with white-painted clay, the floor decorated with green and black mosaic tiles. The furniture was expensive and foreign, hide-covered couches instead of chairs, and the rugs scattered on the floor were uniquely patterned with a combination of delicate flowers and swirling golden dragons. A large woman in her late thirties moved from the kitchen and stood staring at the men. 'You didn't mention company,' she said.

  'I had no idea, my dear Dara, that I was to receive guests. This is Connavar, and Parax. They are friends of a friend.'

  'I suppose they'll be wanting food?'

  'That would be pleasant,' said Phaeton. With a toss of her head Dara returned to the kitchen. Phaeton looked relieved. 'Better remove your boots, lads. There'll be trouble if a speck of mud stains the floor.'

  Dara cooked a fine meal of roasted ham, fresh eggs, and a spicy pie with a filling of sweetened apples. Then throwing her cloak around her shoulders she bade them goodnight and left the house.

  Phaeton relaxed. 'As I said, she is a fine cook.'

  'A big woman,' said Parax, dreamily. 'Is she married?'

  'Her husband died two years ago. He was older than her. His heart gave out.'

  'I'm not surprised,' said Parax. 'Take a lot of effort to satisfy, she would.' Phaeton chuckled.

  'That is not an image I wanted in my mind,' he said. 'I doubt I'll sleep tonight. We have an extra bedroom. You are welcome to stay here for several days. After that the new owner will be taking over.'

  'Why are you leaving Seven Willows?' asked Conn.

  'Seven Willows is pleasant, and I like it here. But since the Stone wars the market in cattle and corn is down. I can do better business in the south. The Norvii capital is now a thriving port. More ships are sailing there, now that the mines in Broken Mountain are played out. I leave in four days.'

  'To be honest I could use a bed around now,' said Parax. Phaeton showed him to a large bedroom, equipped with three beds. Parax thanked him, and the merchant returned to the hearth room.

  'I was so sorry to hear about Banouin,' said Phaeton, pouring a goblet of wine for Conn, then one for himself. 'He was a fine man - one of the best.'

  'Aye, he was.'

  'He helped fund my own venture. Loaned me a hundred silvers. I only finished repaying him last year. He didn't complain, even when business was bad and I couldn't make the payments. Men like him are rare. Sadly, men like Diatka are not. I understand you made his death very painful.'

  'What can you tell me of Seven Willows?' asked Conn, ignoring the question.

  'I suppose that depends on what you are looking for.'

  'Is it a rich settlement?'

  Phaeton shrugged. 'Again that depends on what you call riches. The land here is fertile. There is an abundance of food, cattle and sheep. Little coin - save around feast times, when the cattle market is at a peak. There is an old silver mine to the north, but most of the ore is taken to the mint at Broken Mountain, about eighty miles from here. Little of it reaches Seven Willows.'

  'You know why I am here?'

  'Dara tells me you are to supervise our defences against raids. Is that the situation?'

  'Yes.'

  'We haven't had a raid—'

  'In ten years. I know. Puzzling, isn't it?'

  'Never look a gift horse in the mouth, my friend. There is little here for them. They can't carry away cattle or corn. Better for them - in the past anyway - to raid at Broken Mountain, where there is a treasury, or further south and the trade centres there.'

  'You are probably right,' said Conn. 'Yet the Sea Wolves also raid for women, and there are a great many young women in Seven Willows.'

  'Indeed there are. And five earth maidens who would fetch fabulous prices on the slave stalls of Stone. Then there is the question of ransom . . .' Phaeton suddenly grinned. 'However, young Connavar, I think your problems are rather closer to home. It is said you have made an enemy of Fiallach.'

  Conn shrugged. 'He is a brute and I do not like him.'

  'Yes, he is a brute, and a powerful one. I would not want him for an enemy. Perhaps marriage to Tae will soothe his savage nature.'

  'I wouldn't count on it,' said Conn. 'I intend to marry her myself.'

  'I think the days ahead will be lively,' observed Phaeton. 'I am sorry I won't be here to see them.'

  For three more days Conn scouted the surrounding land. He saw little of Tae. He glimpsed her once, walking with Fiallach, and on another occasion riding far off to the west. But she did not come near him. He could not understand it. They had seemed on the verge of something that first morning in the woods. Or at least he thought they were. Now he was unsure.

  Phaeton had left that morning, leading a string of more than twenty ponies carrying his merchandise. Conn had wished him good luck on his journey, and walked to the Long Hall to make his final report to the Lady Llysona. Three chairs had been set in a line and the Lady, dressed in a long, dark blue gown, was sitting in the centre. Fiallach and Tae, both dressed for riding, sat with her. Fiallach looked calm, and even smiled as Conn approached. Tae kept her head down and did not look at him. Conn bowed to the Lady Llysona and offered his report and recommendations.

  They listened without interruption, and when he had finished the Lady Llysona thanked him for his diligence, and promised to consider carefully all he had said. Fiallach said nothing, and still Tae did not meet his eyes.

  It seemed a curious end to his mission, flat and unfulfilling.

  'So, you will be leaving us today?' said the Lady Llysona.

  'As soon as Parax returns, my lady.'

  'May the gods grant you a safe journey home.'

  Conn bowed once more and returned to the sunlight. Tae had not once looked into his face, and he was struggling to contain his anger. His mood was not lifted by the non-arrival of Parax, who had ridden out early, as he had done every morning, to scout for sign of the pony with the chipped hoof. Parax had tried to track it from the shoreline back into Seven Willows, but cattle had been driven over the trail and the earth was badly churned. Conn understood how vexing the failure was to an expert tracker, but it no longer mattered and he was anxious to be away from the settlement.

  By midday his frustration gave way, and he left a message with the fat housekeeper, Dara, to tell Parax he had headed east and to follow at his leisure. Tae had not bothered to come and say goodbye, and, as far as Conn was concerned, this was the final discourtesy. He tried unsuccessfully to push her from his mind, and felt that leaving Seven Willows would aid him. But an hour later, camped high in the woodland overlooking the distant settlement, he still kept running their last meeting over and over in his mind. Had he said something to offend her? He could not recall any such comment.

  The wind was fresh and cold and, bored now, Conn lit a fire. Where, in the name of Taranis, was P
arax?

  Storm clouds drifted across the afternoon sky, bringing with them darkness and cold. The firelight cast dancing shadows on the wide trunk of an old oak. Conn blinked. A trick of the light made the bark seem to quiver and flow.

  Then features began to form in the wood, becoming the face of an old man with long flowing beard and bristling brows. 'You are not at peace, Connavar,' said a voice, deep and sepulchral.

  Conn knew instantly that this was the Thagda, the Old Man of the Forest, and the most powerful Seidh of them all. He should have felt no fear, for had not the Thagda rescued him in the lands of the Perdii? Had he not given him his first knife? Yet Conn found his heart beating faster, and a growing urge to run filled his mind.

  The tree quivered and bulged, as first a wooden arm, then a leg crafted from bark, pushed clear of the bole. With a grunt a figure emerged from the tree. His beard was lichen, his cloak broad-leafed ivy, his leggings and tunic a mix of bark and acorn. His features were seamed with the polished grain of old oak and his eyes were the green of a summer leaf. He stood back from the fire and stretched out his arms.

  'These were once Seidh woods,' said the Thagda. 'All the world was Seidh. We fed it, and we fed upon it. Then came Man. The magic is mostly gone from the woods now. Only the oaks remember. Long memories in oak, child. Where are you heading, Sword in the Storm?'

  'I am going home.'

  'Home,' said the deep voice, rolling the word, extending it. 'I have always relished the feel of that word upon my tongue. There is always magic in Home. You felt it yourself, when you stood upon the battlefield and thought of Caer Druagh. There is rest for the soul at Home.'' The Tree man stood very still for a while, the wind rustling the leaves of his cloak. 'Can you feel it upon the wind, Connavar?'

  'Can I feel what?'

  'Concentrate. Let your spirit taste the air.'

  Conn breathed in deeply. He could smell the woods: wet bark, rotting leaves. Nothing more. And then, just as he was about to ask the Thagda what he was supposed to be tasting, he caught the scent of the salt sea, seaweed on the beach. He could almost hear the crying of the gulls, the creaking of timbers, and flapping of sails. It was a strange experience. 'We are far from the sea,' he said.