Sword in the Storm

  Ruathain sighed. 'He can't last for ever, Arbon.'

  'Nothing does,' said the herdsman. Ruathain glanced at the man. Arbonacast was short and slightly built, with black hair peppered with silver, and bristling black brows over deep-set grey eyes. His face was a sea of fine lines, a map charting fifty years of hardship and struggle. It was a strong face, hard and lean, and Ruathain trusted him as he did no other man.

  'One more winter, then. But even if he survives and still loses his herd to a younger bull it is the feasting pit for him.'

  'Bad winter coming, I think,' said Arbon, swinging his horse and riding out over the hillside.

  Ruathain turned for home. Of course it would be a bad winter. Just as it had been a bad spring, summer and autumn. There were no good times without Meria. He still saw her daily, watched her walking to the stream or sitting in the sunshine. But he had not had a conversation with her in three years. Ruathain ensured that food was delivered to his old home, and coin when he had it. And he spoke often with his sons. Yet most nights he would dream of her. They were together again and he was lying beside her in a sunlit meadow, stroking her hair and gazing into her green eyes. Then he would wake, and groan as reality struck home like a cold knife to his heart.

  He spoke to no-one of his anguish, and tried to conduct his life as he always had.

  Without the joy it was not possible, and most everyone in Three Streams became aware very swiftly that Ruathain was not the man he had been. Gone was the bluff good humour, the easygoing charm. In their place was a restless man, short tempered and hostile.

  In the spring he, and five other men, had ridden out to intercept some Pannone cattle raiders. In the short fight that followed

  Ruathain had killed two. It was unusual for men to die in such raids. Prisoners were often taken, and held for small ransoms, but on those rare occasions when men died the deaths were usually accidental - a clumsy fall from a horse, or a rider caught in a stampede. On this day Ruathain had charged in among the Pannone, his iron sword singing out. Two men had gone down instantly, the others throwing down their weapons.

  Ruathain had ridden towards the prisoners, his eyes bright with battle fury. Arbonacast cut his pony across his lord's path. 'It is over now, I think,' he said. For a moment the Rigante riders thought he would strike his own man, but Ruathain had dragged on his reins and ridden back to Three Streams.

  Although he did not speak of it he thought of the two dead men often. Both had been young and on their first raid. An initiation into manhood. Neither had expected to die. Ruathain felt great guilt over the slayings. He could have - should have - unhorsed them with the flat of his blade. He was thinking of them now as he rode down to his house. Unsaddling the pony he turned it out into the paddock.

  As he did so he heard the sound of hoof beats and swung to see a rider galloping across the eastern bridge. It was another of his herdsmen, Arbon's son, Casta, who should have been gathering stock in the southern hills. The young man dragged on his reins.

  'What is it, boy?' asked Ruathain.

  'Rogue bear, Lord. It attacked three children outside a Norvii settlement. Killed two, made off with the third. They hunted it, and claim to have wounded it. But it was last seen heading west through the woods.'

  They drove it into our lands and didn't have the guts to follow it.'

  'It seems so, Lord. They say it is big - the largest bear they have ever seen.'

  'Where did they corner it?'

  'Six miles east of the Riguan Falls.'

  Fear touched Ruathain. His boys had gone swimming at the falls.

  'Gather the men,' he told Casta. 'Bring lances and ropes.' Running into the house he buckled on his iron sword and lifted his hunting lance.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  despite the cold, riamfada had no wish to leave the water. He knew this was the last day he would swim that year, for winter was approaching fast, and there had already been flurries of snow in the hills. He floated on his back then rolled and watched the late afternoon sunlight sparkling on the waterfall. A rainbow sprang into life to the right of the falls. Riamfada stared at it, lost in wonder. Then a wispy cloud drifted past the sun and the rainbow faded. If only I could work with such colours, he thought. High above him he heard Govannan call out. Glancing up he saw the smith's son leap from the ledge and spin into a dive. Govannan surfaced, flicked the water from his long hair, and swam over to him.

  'Had enough, little fish?' he asked.

  'Just a little more,' said Riamfada.

  'Your lips are turning blue. I think it's time you got dry.' Treading water, Govannan glanced at the bank where Connavar and Braefar had lit a small fire. Three other youngsters were sitting huddled around the flames. Riamfada had been disappointed to find Galanis and his brothers at the falls. They always stared at him, and, invariably, the conversation would turn to his crippled legs. They were recent arrivals at the settlement, their father having come up from the south to work for Ruathain.

  Reluctantly Riamfada struck for the shore, Govannan swimming alongside him. When they reached the bank the smith's son lifted Riamfada clear and carried him to the fire. Conn dried his legs then wrapped a warm cloak around him. 'Going to be a cold winter,' he said.

  'It will be a long one,' said Riamfada, sadly.

  Govannan towelled himself down then dressed and walked to the shoreline, where he began skimming stones across the water. Connavar wandered down and also hefted a handful of stones. Immediately a contest began to see who could skim the furthest. Braefar sat alongside Riamfada. They are at it again,' he said. 'Everything is a competition with those two.' Riamfada shivered. Braefar helped him into his clothes and added more fuel to the fire.

  'Perhaps a spell was cast on you,' said Galanis. He was a tall, rangy, red-haired youth, with a pock-marked sallow face.

  'A spell? What do you mean?' replied Riamfada, his heart sinking.

  'My brothers and I were wondering if the Seidh put a curse on your legs.'

  The other two young men, Baris and Gethenan, were also staring at him now. 'I don't think anyone cursed me,' he said. The year I was born there were many children afflicted. They all died. Vorna says it was a sickness that attacked the mothers.'

  'I'd sooner be dead than a cripple,' said Baris.

  'Oh shut up, Baris,' snapped Braefar. 'What a stupid thing to say.'

  'Well, it's true,' said Baris, reddening.

  'It is probably true for you,' said Riamfada. 'But then you have enjoyed a life of walking and running. For you the loss of you legs would be terrible. But I have never had the use of my legs, so I have grown accustomed to my condition.'

  'What is the surprise you promised us?' asked Braefar, anxious to change the subject. Riamfada smiled, and called out to Conn and Govannan. The two young men wandered back from their skimming contest.

  'I had a seven,' said Van. 'Beat him by two.'

  'You found the best stone,' grumbled Connavar.

  Once they were seated Riamfada untied his belt pouch and laid it in his lap. 'I have some presents for the three of you,' he said. 'You have been very kind to me and I wanted to repay you. I hope you won't be offended.' Unfastening the string loop he pulled open the pouch. From it he drew a cloak brooch of gleaming bronze which he passed to Govannan. It was in the shape of a leaping deer and engraved with swirls of silver. 'It is a wondrous piece,' said Van. 'I have never seen anything so beautiful.' From the pouch Riamfada took a second brooch. It was a copy of a wicker shield, cunningly crafted from intertwined wires of silver. Braefar turned it over in his hands. Lastly Riamfada handed Conn a brooch. A bronze fawn trapped in silver brambles, encased in a band of bright gold.

  'I do not know what to say,' said Conn.

  Then let me speak for you, brother,' said Braefar. 'We thank you, little fish. These are very fine gifts.'

  'Nothing for us, then?' put in Galanis. 'I didn't realize carrying cripples reaped such fine rewards.'

  'Watch your mouth!' stormed Govannan, 'or you'll b
e wearing your teeth as a necklace.'

  'Where we come from blunt speech is considered a virtue,' replied Galanis.

  There is a difference between blunt speech and rudeness,' said Braefar. 'You had best learn that if you wish to be accepted among us. For example, I do not recall any of us pointing out that you are the ugliest trio we have ever seen. Your face, Galanis, looks like a woodpecker tried to nest in it. Still, I expect that back where you came from that would be considered blunt speaking.'

  The three brothers rose from the fire and stalked off towards the settlement. An awkward silence followed. Riamfada looked downcast. Conn leaned forward and placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. 'I thank you, Riamfada,' he said, softly. 'But there was no need to reward us. You are our friend and we enjoy your company.'

  'It was not a reward,' objected Riamfada. 'I just wanted to find a way to show how much I appreciated your friendship. All of you. You have given me great joy. More than you can ever know. You like my gifts?'

  'No-one ever gave me a finer present,' said Govannan. 'I will treasure it, little fish.'

  They sat together for a while longer, but as the sun began to fall Govannan put out the fire and Connavar lifted Riamfada to his shoulders for the long walk home.

  As they walked they heard a distant scream. 'What was that?' whispered Braefar. The sound hung in the air. They walked on and up the hillside, emerging from the trees onto open ground. A body lay on the grass, its belly ripped open, its face gone. Patches of blood stained the grass like a stand of poppies. Connavar laid Riamfada on the grass and drew his silver knife. From the clothes the corpse wore they knew it was Galanis.

  'Bear,' whispered Govannan. 'And a big one.' He too unsheathed his blade. Braefar, who had no weapon, stood petrified, staring at the mutilated corpse. 'The others must have run off. Climbed a tree or something,' continued Govannan.

  Riamfada sat on the grass, scanning the tree line. Another scream sounded from deep in the trees. It was cut off abruptly. A breeze was blowing from the woods. 'It will not be able to scent us,' whispered Connavar. 'Let's move!' Sheathing his knife he lifted Riamfada, and the three young men set off across the hills. The land was open here: no ground cover, and no trees in which to hide. Held in Connavar's arms, Riamfada stared back at the trees, praying that the bear would not emerge.

  He heard Govannan swear. 'The wind is changing,' he said.

  Almost as soon as Govannnan spoke Riamfada saw a huge form burst from the trees a hundred paces behind them. Time froze in that moment. The beast moved to the body of Galanis. Its great jaws opened, closing on the corpse. Then, with a flick of its head it tossed the body high into the air. The bear reared up, catching the corpse as it fell, and ripping at it with its talons. Please do not let it see us, prayed Riamfada, silently.

  The great head swung. Dropping the body, the beast turned towards the fleeing youths. 'It's coming!' screamed Riamfada. Conn glanced back then began to run. Riamfada soon realized that there was no way, burdened as he was, that Conn could outrun the beast. 'Put me down!' he shouted. 'Save yourself!'

  Conn ran on, then glanced back once more. The bear was no more than thirty paces behind them. Slowing to a halt he laid Riamfada on the grass, drew his knife and swung to face the charging beast. 'Oh please run!' Riamfada begged him.

  'I'll cut its bastard heart out,' hissed Conn.

  The bear came on, and reared up in front of the defiant youth. Riamfada could not tear his eyes from the beast. Over eight feet high, its black muzzle and chest fur drenched in blood, it spread its paws and lumbered forward. Conn did not wait for it, but hurled himself at the colossus, plunging his blade deep into the bear's chest.

  Talons ripped across his back, sending a spray of blood that splashed across Riamfada's face. Connavar was hurled clear of the beast, but it turned on him again. A shadow fell across Riamfada as Govannan ran in, leaping on the bear's back and slamming his own knife into the creature's neck. The bear reared and twisted. Govannan was thrown to the ground, his knife still embedded in the bear's flesh. Bleeding badly Conn pushed himself to his feet and attacked again. Talons tore into his shoulder, but the silver knife swept up, then down, slicing through fur and bone and flesh. The bear dropped to all fours, pinning Conn beneath it. Govannan, hefting a large rock, ran at the bear, smashing the stone down upon its head. The creature swung round, its snapping jaws just missing the youth. It reared high, talons slashing out. Beneath it the blood-covered Connavar surged to his knees and drove his knife two handed into the bear's belly. A huge paw thundered against his shoulder and Riamfada heard the sound of splintering bones. Connavar was hurled across the grass, limp and boneless as a rag doll.

  Then came the sound of galloping horses. A pony leapt over Riamfada, the rider leaning down to ram a long lance through the bear's chest. The bear lashed out, talons ripping through the pony's neck. The rider was thrown clear. Rolling to his feet he drew a long sword of iron. The beast turned towards him. A rope sailed over the bear's head, drawing tight and dragging it back. The swordsman ran in, plunging his blade deep into the bear's stomach. More horsemen galloped in. Some threw rope loops over the beast, others stabbed lances into the wounded creature. And all the while the swordsman hacked at it with his iron blade. It seemed to Riamfada that the bear would never die. It killed a second pony, but then became completely entangled in the ropes. The swordsman delivered three terrible blows to the back of its neck and it collapsed to the ground. The riders dismounted, plunging their lances again and again into the massive form.

  'Look to Conn!' shouted Riamfada. 'Please help him!'

  The swordsman dropped his blade and ran to the fallen youngster. Riamfada tried to crawl over to him. Govannan lifted him, holding him close. 'You don't want to see him,' he said, sadly. 'He's dead.'

  'No. No, he can't be.'

  'If not, he will be soon. No-one could lose that much blood and live.'

  Govannan set Riamfada down on the grass, then ran over to where the men had gathered around the still form of Connavar. Riamfada could see them battling to staunch the wounds. A little way to the right Riamfada caught sight of Braefar. The boy was kneeling on the grass and sobbing. He wanted to call out to him, to comfort him, but he felt powerless to make a noise within this grim tableau. A few feet away the colossal bear, still entangled in ropes, lay dead alongside the two ponies it had killed. Several of the men moved to their mounts and rode back up the hillside. Riamfada wondered where they were going. Then he remembered the dead Galanis, and his missing brothers. He began to tremble.

  A woman with white-streaked black hair came walking from the woods. She was carrying a long staff. The remaining men backed away from her and Riamfada saw her kneel beside Connavar. Her skinny arm came up and it was obvious she was directing the men. Three of them lifted the wounded youngster. The woman strode back into the woods, the men following. Govannan walked back to where Riamfada sat.

  'He is alive. Barely,'said the smith's son.

  'Who was the woman?'

  'Vorna the witch. He is being carried to her cave.'

  'You should speak to Braefar,' said Riamfada. Govannan took a deep breath.

  'What would I say?' he countered.

  They sat together for more than an hour. It was growing dark and cold as the men returned from Vorna's cave. The other riders had found the bodies of Galanis and his brothers and, wrapped in cloaks, they were taken back to the settlement.

  Ruathain emerged from the woods and walked across to where the two youngsters waited. Govannan rose and stood silently as Ruathain approached.

  'What happened here?' asked the swordsman.

  'It was my fault,' said Riamfada. The swordsman knelt before the crippled youth.

  'How so?' he asked.

  'Conn could not outrun the beast while carrying me, and he refused to leave me. He stood with his knife and then attacked the bear. Govannan helped him.' Tears fell to his cheeks. 'I urged him to leave me and run. He is my friend and I didn't want him hurt.
'

  'He is my son,' said Ruathain, his voice choked with emotion. 'He would not leave a friend in peril. Govannan helped him, you say?'

  'Yes, sir. Conn faced it, then Govannan leapt on its back and stabbed it.'

  The swordsman rose and turned to the smith's son. 'There was no great affection between you two,' he said. 'And yet you risked your life for him. I will not forget that. I have had trouble with your father, but you have my friendship for as long as I live.'

  'My father is a good man, sir,' said Govannan. 'But like me his mouth sometimes hits the gallop before his brain is in the saddle. How is Conn?'

  'He is dying,' said Ruathain, struggling to control his emotions. 'His shoulder and left arm are smashed beyond repair, his lung is punctured. The witch says she will use all her power to save him. But we had to leave him with her. She refused my request to stay at his side. Said my presence would disturb the spells she must cast.'

  'I am truly sorry, sir,' said Govannan.

  The swordsman nodded. When he spoke his voice was close to breaking. 'You should feel proud, boy. Today you stood beside my son and faced a terrible enemy. Believe me, that will have changed you. You are no longer merely the smith's eldest son. You are a man in your own right. And more than that, you are a hero.' He took a deep breath, then dropped to one knee in front of Riamfada. 'Do not blame yourself. Even without you these lads could not have outrun the bear. Heroes come in many forms. Not all of them are fighters. When you asked Conn to leave you and save himself, you were prepared to sacrifice your life for his. You understand? You too should feel proud. Now I must get you home.'

  Vorna was close to exhaustion when she heard the ponies approaching the cave. She had known they would come. One did not need the powers of a witch to realize that a mother would not be parted from her son when his life hung in the balance. And as for the man, Vorna had seen the anguish on his face earlier that day. He could not stay away. Rising from Conn's bedside she took up her staff and walked out into the night. Ruathain and Meria had dismounted and were approaching the entrance.