Brenna rolled her eyes. “It’s not like that, you dirty-minded amadan. Ciaran, hurry. And bring that silver bowl.”
Odran turned his sightless eyes on her. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea?”
“He deserves to know,” Brenna said.
“He’ll survive the conversation, but I doubt you will.” Niamh flicked a leaf at her.
“I think you’ll find Brenna is made of sturdier stuff than we give her credit for,” Deagan said.
Niamh giggled. “She’s just so tiny. Like a fae--”
“Don’t go calling their attention down on us,” Odran said. “Go on, Brenna. Be gentle with the lad.”
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Wholly Unholy
“Well,” Niamh said, “I’d have slapped him, personally, but whatever works.”
Ciaran’s eyes slipped closed, and he reached up automatically, tangled one hand in Brenna’s wild curls.
“I’d say he’s snapped out of it,” Deagan said.
“Or that she’s just snapped.” Niamh sounded too amused.
Ciaran moaned when Brenna pulled back. Her mouth was grave, but her eyes were bright.
“We don’t have that much time,” she said. “Come along. I have something you’ll want to see.”
“Under your clothes, aye?” Deagan grinned.
“Oy,” Odran said. “Not in front of the Holy Mother’s --”
“There’s nothing holy about it, old man.”
Ciaran’s eyes slipped closed, and he reached up automatically, tangled one hand in Brenna’s wild curls.
“I’d say he’s snapped out of it,” Deagan said.
“Or that she’s just snapped.” Niamh sounded too amused.
Ciaran moaned when Brenna pulled back. Her mouth was grave, but her eyes were bright.
“We don’t have that much time,” she said. “Come along. I have something you’ll want to see.”
“Under your clothes, aye?” Deagan grinned.
“Oy,” Odran said. “Not in front of the Holy Mother’s --”
“There’s nothing holy about it, old man.”
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
The Next
“We should split up,” Deagan said quietly. “Who knows what Eoghan might do.”
“What do you mean?” Ciaran asked. The hurt was starting to fade, and despite the fire he was feeling cold.
“He’s none too pleased that Brenna taught you your power,” Niamh said.
“He wouldn’t hurt her,” Ciaran said, but the words sounded distant, as if someone else were speaking them.
“I think he’s in shock,” Odran said.
“Aye.” Deagan nudged Brenna. “Snap him out of it.”
One moment, Brenna was peering curiously at Ciaran, as if he were an ill bird, the next, she was kissing him.
“What do you mean?” Ciaran asked. The hurt was starting to fade, and despite the fire he was feeling cold.
“He’s none too pleased that Brenna taught you your power,” Niamh said.
“He wouldn’t hurt her,” Ciaran said, but the words sounded distant, as if someone else were speaking them.
“I think he’s in shock,” Odran said.
“Aye.” Deagan nudged Brenna. “Snap him out of it.”
One moment, Brenna was peering curiously at Ciaran, as if he were an ill bird, the next, she was kissing him.
Monday, July 5, 2010
Yes and No
“Your mother is a goddess, yes,” Niamh said.
“Did I really kill her?”
"A goddess cannot die,” Deagan said.
Brenna shot him a look.
“Well, not that easily, and certainly not of her own element.” Deagan smiled with false brightness.
Ciaran felt, for the first time in years, his eyes begin to sting with tears. “But I’m the reason we grew up alone.”
“Yes,” Niamh said.
“But it’s not your fault,” Brenna said. “It was an accident. She’s not angry.”
“How would you know?”
“Now’s not the time,” Niamh said. “We need to regroup.”
“I’ll tell you later,” Brenna said.
“Did I really kill her?”
"A goddess cannot die,” Deagan said.
Brenna shot him a look.
“Well, not that easily, and certainly not of her own element.” Deagan smiled with false brightness.
Ciaran felt, for the first time in years, his eyes begin to sting with tears. “But I’m the reason we grew up alone.”
“Yes,” Niamh said.
“But it’s not your fault,” Brenna said. “It was an accident. She’s not angry.”
“How would you know?”
“Now’s not the time,” Niamh said. “We need to regroup.”
“I’ll tell you later,” Brenna said.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Is It True?
Ciaran couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe; he felt as though his father had taken a sword and run him through with it. His knees started to buckle. He managed one syllable.
“Da --”
Eoghan turned away from him.
“We should rally with the men Padraig summoned,” Dolan said. He cast Ciaran an apologetic look.
“Aye,” Eoghan said. “This way.”
Ciaran started after him, but Odran put a hand on his arm.
“Lad, I wouldn’t.”
Ciaran watched his father vanish into the night shadows, uncaring of the heat of the flames behind him, of the cries of the enemy.
“Is it true?”
“Da --”
Eoghan turned away from him.
“We should rally with the men Padraig summoned,” Dolan said. He cast Ciaran an apologetic look.
“Aye,” Eoghan said. “This way.”
Ciaran started after him, but Odran put a hand on his arm.
“Lad, I wouldn’t.”
Ciaran watched his father vanish into the night shadows, uncaring of the heat of the flames behind him, of the cries of the enemy.
“Is it true?”
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Commit Yourself
Ciaran’s heart crawled into his throat. “Da,” he croaked.
Eoghan hissed, “Don’t call me that.”
“Ceri was a goddess,” Brenna said calmly. “She did not die. She merely surrendered her mortal aspect.”
“I loved her, and that creature --” he pointed a shakily at Ciaran -- “is the reason she’s gone.”
“Whatever he is that makes him a creature he got from her,” Brenna said.
Odran spoke up. “Eoghan, you should be honored to have been the consort of a goddess --”
“Leave this place,” Eoghan said to Ciaran, “and never come back. Perhaps you should commit yourself to the flames you created.”
Eoghan hissed, “Don’t call me that.”
“Ceri was a goddess,” Brenna said calmly. “She did not die. She merely surrendered her mortal aspect.”
“I loved her, and that creature --” he pointed a shakily at Ciaran -- “is the reason she’s gone.”
“Whatever he is that makes him a creature he got from her,” Brenna said.
Odran spoke up. “Eoghan, you should be honored to have been the consort of a goddess --”
“Leave this place,” Eoghan said to Ciaran, “and never come back. Perhaps you should commit yourself to the flames you created.”
Friday, July 2, 2010
Speak Madness
Deagan spoke up. “Man, the boy just saved us all. They’ll be all night trying to quell those fires, and by then reinforcements will have arrived --”
“It was fire that killed your mother, and I knew that if you learned what you could do you would kill others too.” Eoghan’s eyes were cold.
“Others?” Ciaran asked. Something in his father’s voice was alien, afraid and angry all at once. “What do you mean?”
“Come now,” Dolan said, and he too was pale with fear, “you speak madness. A babe cannot set such a blaze, not such as killed your Ceri.”
“It was fire that killed your mother, and I knew that if you learned what you could do you would kill others too.” Eoghan’s eyes were cold.
“Others?” Ciaran asked. Something in his father’s voice was alien, afraid and angry all at once. “What do you mean?”
“Come now,” Dolan said, and he too was pale with fear, “you speak madness. A babe cannot set such a blaze, not such as killed your Ceri.”
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Told You
“Da?” Ciaran asked again. His arms were beginning to buckle.
Brenna reached out and caught him by the wrist, pulled him up, and really, she was good with a sword, but should she have been that strong?
Eoghan shook his head. “All his life, I protected him from that vile power, and then you - you taught it to him. And he used it to kill. It killed his mother!”
Ciaran cast a glance at Dolan, but he was looking away, embarrassed.
“Da, now’s not the time. We need to run.”
“I told you,” Eoghan said, “to never light a fire.”
Brenna reached out and caught him by the wrist, pulled him up, and really, she was good with a sword, but should she have been that strong?
Eoghan shook his head. “All his life, I protected him from that vile power, and then you - you taught it to him. And he used it to kill. It killed his mother!”
Ciaran cast a glance at Dolan, but he was looking away, embarrassed.
“Da, now’s not the time. We need to run.”
“I told you,” Eoghan said, “to never light a fire.”
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Little Things
“Hurry it up.” Deagan offered Brenna a hand.
Eoghan kicked it aside. “You,” he said.
“Could use a hand.” She cast him a pointed look.
“You turned my son into a monster,” Eoghan said.
Ciaran blinked. “Da. A little help here, please?”
“Technically, he’s only half monster, and if he is, well, you married her,” Brenna said. She pulled herself up onto the grass. “Most people don’t hold with calling gods ‘monsters’, though.”
“Ceri was --”
“The goddess of the living fire,” Brenna said. She offered Ciaran a hand. “Turns out your son has learnt to use it a little differently.”
Eoghan kicked it aside. “You,” he said.
“Could use a hand.” She cast him a pointed look.
“You turned my son into a monster,” Eoghan said.
Ciaran blinked. “Da. A little help here, please?”
“Technically, he’s only half monster, and if he is, well, you married her,” Brenna said. She pulled herself up onto the grass. “Most people don’t hold with calling gods ‘monsters’, though.”
“Ceri was --”
“The goddess of the living fire,” Brenna said. She offered Ciaran a hand. “Turns out your son has learnt to use it a little differently.”
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
At Eoghan's Feet
Ciaran hung back, waited till Eoghan, Odran and Dolan had a head start. Then he turned and looked at the swarming monsters clambering over the bodies of their fallen comrades. Brenna pulled up beside him, sword dripping with gore and blood.
“Do it,” she said.
Ciaran flung a hand toward the bodies, and as one,they burst into flame, formed a wall of fire. Some of the men couldn’t stop charging in time and ran into the heat, began to scream.
Brenna grabbed his hand and took off running.
They reached the cliff and scrambled up - right to Eoghan’s feet.
“Do it,” she said.
Ciaran flung a hand toward the bodies, and as one,they burst into flame, formed a wall of fire. Some of the men couldn’t stop charging in time and ran into the heat, began to scream.
Brenna grabbed his hand and took off running.
They reached the cliff and scrambled up - right to Eoghan’s feet.
Monday, June 28, 2010
And, And, And...
One moment Ciaran was barely hanging onto his sword, desperate to keep his grip on it as he parried one blow, then another, from gigantic greatsword wielded by a man who was more bear than human. The next moment, he was dancing, and his sword was literally on fire, and around him, men were dropping and screaming.
But there were too many of them, and Brenna and Niamh were shouting, Retreat, fall back, for the hills!
And Dolan was shouting back, No! We have to hold the line! Our wives and children!
And then Brenna looked at Ciaran, and he knew.
But there were too many of them, and Brenna and Niamh were shouting, Retreat, fall back, for the hills!
And Dolan was shouting back, No! We have to hold the line! Our wives and children!
And then Brenna looked at Ciaran, and he knew.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
This Moment
Impossible. She couldn’t have been strong enough to withstand such a blow. But then she pushed, and the man staggered backward. Another man swung at her, and she stabbed him, pushed her sword clean through him, planted a foot against his chest and kicked to free her sword, and then she was on the next man.
Deagan and Malachy leapt into the fray. Niamh’s archers swung their bows wildly, stabbing with loose arrows. Dolan and Eoghan joined the battle, and then Ciaran remembered that he had a sword. He had been preparing for this moment for months.
Block. Trap. Strike.
Deagan and Malachy leapt into the fray. Niamh’s archers swung their bows wildly, stabbing with loose arrows. Dolan and Eoghan joined the battle, and then Ciaran remembered that he had a sword. He had been preparing for this moment for months.
Block. Trap. Strike.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Meeting
“Now,” Brenna said, “might be a good time for some faster magic.”
One of the enemies lifted a giant bow, and Ciaran stood paralyzed by the bloodlust in those ice-green eyes. The enemy fired. Eoghan shouted. So did Dolan. Ciaran couldn’t move.
And then Brenna was in front of him, clutching the arrow in one hand.
“Or not,” she said. Then she threw back her head and screeched, the sound just like the one her massive black bird made before it dove from the sky. She swung her sword up, and it met the metal of a giant axe.
One of the enemies lifted a giant bow, and Ciaran stood paralyzed by the bloodlust in those ice-green eyes. The enemy fired. Eoghan shouted. So did Dolan. Ciaran couldn’t move.
And then Brenna was in front of him, clutching the arrow in one hand.
“Or not,” she said. Then she threw back her head and screeched, the sound just like the one her massive black bird made before it dove from the sky. She swung her sword up, and it met the metal of a giant axe.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Once, Twice, Thrice
For a moment, Ciaran thought that total destruction was imminent, that the dragonboats would explode and fall apart in the water, but then there was an unholy scrape and lurch as, one by one, they shot up onto the sand. Men spilled over the sides, men too massive to be human. Some turned to douse the fires, but the rest swarmed toward the ragged band of farmers and druids.
Niamh’s archers loosed another volley of arrows, and a rank of enemies dropped. One man unstrapped a massive axe from his back and swung it once, twice, thrice. Then he charged.
Niamh’s archers loosed another volley of arrows, and a rank of enemies dropped. One man unstrapped a massive axe from his back and swung it once, twice, thrice. Then he charged.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Screaming
“Are you mad?” Ciaran asked, but then all along the row of archers, arrowheads burst into flame.
“Witch!” Dolan cried, and Eoghan leveled his spade at her.
Brenna looked at them coolly, and Ciaran thought he saw something like power glimmer in her golden eyes. “You’ll want something faster than my brand of witchcraft once those men make it ashore.” And then she caught Ciaran’s gaze, and he knew. He swallowed hard, darted a glance at his father.
Niamh said, “Fire.”
Arrows zipped through the air like a rain of falling stars. Prows burst alight. And then there was screaming.
“Witch!” Dolan cried, and Eoghan leveled his spade at her.
Brenna looked at them coolly, and Ciaran thought he saw something like power glimmer in her golden eyes. “You’ll want something faster than my brand of witchcraft once those men make it ashore.” And then she caught Ciaran’s gaze, and he knew. He swallowed hard, darted a glance at his father.
Niamh said, “Fire.”
Arrows zipped through the air like a rain of falling stars. Prows burst alight. And then there was screaming.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Ready
The fishermen cast her contemptuous looks.
“Now’s not the time for infighting,” Niamh began, and another fisherman spat at her,
“You should be with the other women. Where it’s safe.”
“If we don’t stay here,” Brenna said, “soon nowhere will be safe.”
The ships loomed bigger and faster on the horizon. Ciaran thought he could see teeth painted onto the sharp prows.
Niamh called out to the archers. “Ready your line!”
They nocked arrows and poised to fire. Brenna lowered her head and bit into her own wrist. Blood flowed, and she used it to draw on her own skin.
“Now’s not the time for infighting,” Niamh began, and another fisherman spat at her,
“You should be with the other women. Where it’s safe.”
“If we don’t stay here,” Brenna said, “soon nowhere will be safe.”
The ships loomed bigger and faster on the horizon. Ciaran thought he could see teeth painted onto the sharp prows.
Niamh called out to the archers. “Ready your line!”
They nocked arrows and poised to fire. Brenna lowered her head and bit into her own wrist. Blood flowed, and she used it to draw on her own skin.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Of War
Ciaran skidded to a halt beside Brenna, gave his sword a few practice swings.
“Right. What’s the plan?”
Eoghan gaped at him. “Where did you get that sword?”
“Er...” Ciaran darted a glance at his father nervously. “It was a --”
“Necessary precaution,” Odran said. “Don’t want the lad dying before he’s useful, aye?”
“We’re just peat farmers,” Eoghan said. “How can any of us possibly be useful in this fight?”
“We’ve sent our Padraig to the next village for reinforcements,” one of the fishermen said.
“I doubt they’ll get here in time,” Brenna said.
“What do you know of war?”
“Right. What’s the plan?”
Eoghan gaped at him. “Where did you get that sword?”
“Er...” Ciaran darted a glance at his father nervously. “It was a --”
“Necessary precaution,” Odran said. “Don’t want the lad dying before he’s useful, aye?”
“We’re just peat farmers,” Eoghan said. “How can any of us possibly be useful in this fight?”
“We’ve sent our Padraig to the next village for reinforcements,” one of the fishermen said.
“I doubt they’ll get here in time,” Brenna said.
“What do you know of war?”
Doomed or Not
“What are you doing here?”
“We were involved in a dastardly ritual when the sight of the dragon-boats disrupted our vile magic,” Niamh said dryly.
Eoghan twitched.
“Though you may hate us,” Deagan said, “this country is ours as much as it is yours, and we’ll defend it to our deaths.”
“Aye,” Eoghan said. “The village men are coming as well.”
About fifty men came careening across the sands, Ciaran loping at the head of them. Most were armed with fishing spears or farming implements.
“We’re doomed,” Malachy said.
“No,” Odran said, turning sightless eyes toward Ciaran, “we’re not.”
“We were involved in a dastardly ritual when the sight of the dragon-boats disrupted our vile magic,” Niamh said dryly.
Eoghan twitched.
“Though you may hate us,” Deagan said, “this country is ours as much as it is yours, and we’ll defend it to our deaths.”
“Aye,” Eoghan said. “The village men are coming as well.”
About fifty men came careening across the sands, Ciaran loping at the head of them. Most were armed with fishing spears or farming implements.
“We’re doomed,” Malachy said.
“No,” Odran said, turning sightless eyes toward Ciaran, “we’re not.”
Monday, June 21, 2010
Incoming
Brenna hissed orders across the line. Deagan and Malachy had control of two flanks while Niamh badgered the archers into place. Odran loomed beside her, massive staff in hand. Blind and old though he may have been, he was the most seasoned warrior of them all - save Brenna herself.
“How many are there?” a man asked, panting heavily.
Brenna spun, brought up her sword. Eoghan stood in the moonlight before her. Ciaran had inherited his mother’s gifts, but he’d inherited his father’s face.
“At least thirty men per ship,” Brenna said.
Eoghan stared at the blue on her skin. “You.”
“How many are there?” a man asked, panting heavily.
Brenna spun, brought up her sword. Eoghan stood in the moonlight before her. Ciaran had inherited his mother’s gifts, but he’d inherited his father’s face.
“At least thirty men per ship,” Brenna said.
Eoghan stared at the blue on her skin. “You.”
Sunday, June 20, 2010
What Was Coming
“Where did you get that?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Ciaran said. “There’s a whole army of them. They’re going to be here at any moment. We have to send the women, children and aged ito hide, and then we have to fight.”
Eoghan scooped up his massive, sharp-edged spade. “You’re faster - run to the next farm, raise the cry. I’ll head for the shore.”
“There are already people down there,” Ciaran said. “I’ll head for Bain’s farm if you go to Dolan’s - it’s closer.”
“Run swiftly.”
Eoghan followed Ciaran to the door, and he swore when he saw what was coming.
“Doesn’t matter,” Ciaran said. “There’s a whole army of them. They’re going to be here at any moment. We have to send the women, children and aged ito hide, and then we have to fight.”
Eoghan scooped up his massive, sharp-edged spade. “You’re faster - run to the next farm, raise the cry. I’ll head for the shore.”
“There are already people down there,” Ciaran said. “I’ll head for Bain’s farm if you go to Dolan’s - it’s closer.”
“Run swiftly.”
Eoghan followed Ciaran to the door, and he swore when he saw what was coming.
Saturday, June 19, 2010
From the Sea
Ciaran loped across the field toward home. He knew Eoghan would have a fit upon learning his son’s midnight absence, but a reprimand was no matter in the face of attack from --
Ciaran cast a glance across the wide seas. The longships sliced through the water toward the shore like so many arrows coming to pierce the land. Down on the sand, Brenna’s band of warriors looked pathetic and tiny in comparison.
Eoghan came awake when Ciaran flung open the front door.
“Da, rouse the village - raiders are coming! From the sea!”
Eoghan blinked. “What?” Then he saw Ciaran’s sword.
Ciaran cast a glance across the wide seas. The longships sliced through the water toward the shore like so many arrows coming to pierce the land. Down on the sand, Brenna’s band of warriors looked pathetic and tiny in comparison.
Eoghan came awake when Ciaran flung open the front door.
“Da, rouse the village - raiders are coming! From the sea!”
Eoghan blinked. “What?” Then he saw Ciaran’s sword.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Get Started
Ciaran gripped his sword. “What are we going to do? There’s too many of them. You and I couldn’t possibly stop them alone -”
“Go, wake your father, and help him light the watch fires,” Brenna said. “We’ll handle the rest.”
“Who’s we?” Ciaran demanded.
Brenna nodded toward the shore, and then Ciaran saw them, a motley crew of men and women armed with swords, spears, shields, bows and arrows, all stripped to the waist and painted blue, bedecked with gold. Brenna shrugged off her cloak, drew her sword, and started toward the edge of the cliff.
“Go. We’ll get started.”
“Go, wake your father, and help him light the watch fires,” Brenna said. “We’ll handle the rest.”
“Who’s we?” Ciaran demanded.
Brenna nodded toward the shore, and then Ciaran saw them, a motley crew of men and women armed with swords, spears, shields, bows and arrows, all stripped to the waist and painted blue, bedecked with gold. Brenna shrugged off her cloak, drew her sword, and started toward the edge of the cliff.
“Go. We’ll get started.”
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Where the Sky is White
They raced toward the shore, prows decorated with skulls of beasts with horns like Ciaran had never seen. Massive sails whipped in the wind, and hundreds of oars, like the legs of insects that prowled the grass, dipped rhythmically in the water, as if the boats were beasts and the oars were their legs running.
“Who are they? Where are they from? Why are they here?” he asked. He was terrified.
By contrast, Brenna looked resigned and almost...sad. “They are the hammer of Thor. They’re from the north where the sky is white, and they’re here for your land.”
“Who are they? Where are they from? Why are they here?” he asked. He was terrified.
By contrast, Brenna looked resigned and almost...sad. “They are the hammer of Thor. They’re from the north where the sky is white, and they’re here for your land.”
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Longships
“Come with me,” Brenna said. She took up her sword, so Ciaran took his up too, doused the fire with a stray thought as he followed her through the trees, toward the shore.
“We going to train down on the beach? But Da might see,” Ciaran said.
Brenna shook her head. “Just look.” She paused, high up on the point overlooking the northern sea. “Can you see it?”
Ciaran squinted, but all he could see was the darkness where sea met sky. “See what?”
“You’ll see it. Just wait.”
And they waited, and waited, and then Ciaran saw them.
Longships.
“We going to train down on the beach? But Da might see,” Ciaran said.
Brenna shook her head. “Just look.” She paused, high up on the point overlooking the northern sea. “Can you see it?”
Ciaran squinted, but all he could see was the darkness where sea met sky. “See what?”
“You’ll see it. Just wait.”
And they waited, and waited, and then Ciaran saw them.
Longships.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Good Time
Brenna stared up at him, golden eyes bright, and then she swallowed hard.
“Well done,” she said, and she smiled.
Ciaran stared at her mouth.
She blinked at him. “Ciaran?”
“Right. Er...thanks.” He set the sword aside, offered her a hand up. She dusted herself off, and for the first time, Ciaran was distracted by the gleam of perspiration at her collarbone.
“You did well,” Brenna said. “In good time, too.”
Ciaran cocked his head to one side. “Good time for what? You mentioned, before, that danger was coming, but in all these months I’ve seen none of it.”
“Well done,” she said, and she smiled.
Ciaran stared at her mouth.
She blinked at him. “Ciaran?”
“Right. Er...thanks.” He set the sword aside, offered her a hand up. She dusted herself off, and for the first time, Ciaran was distracted by the gleam of perspiration at her collarbone.
“You did well,” Brenna said. “In good time, too.”
Ciaran cocked his head to one side. “Good time for what? You mentioned, before, that danger was coming, but in all these months I’ve seen none of it.”
Monday, June 14, 2010
Finally, Unforgettable
After several months, Ciaran began to hold his own. At least, he thought he was - he couldn’t tell if Brenna was going easy on him or if he really was just that good. On random nights he would creep through the woods, get a fire going with a hand gesture and a thought, and then Brenna would appear, sword at the ready. Sometimes she ambushed him; sometimes she bowed to him; sometimes she made him kneel and breathe and listen to the rhythm of his own heart.
The day he finally made her surrender - sword to her throat - was unforgettable.
The day he finally made her surrender - sword to her throat - was unforgettable.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Spare Moments
The first duel was the worst. Ciaran had heard of the warrior women who painted themselves blue and screamed down the walls of enemy cities, but he had thought, as had the other lads in the village, that they were just stories. He’d seen grizzled warriors in the village, taking on a huntsman or woodsman for money, and they were fierce fighters, strong and fast.
Brenna...moved like wind and water, every motion smooth, almost as if she was dancing and the sword was her partner...or part of her.
But Ciaran trained hard, in every spare moment he had.
Brenna...moved like wind and water, every motion smooth, almost as if she was dancing and the sword was her partner...or part of her.
But Ciaran trained hard, in every spare moment he had.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Promises Kept
As Ciaran watched, she sketched a symbol, uttered a foreign sound, and then, to his surprise, she drew a needle from the hem of her sleeve, pricked her own finger, and splashed blood through the air.
Water swirled from nowhere and soundly doused the fire, bringing it back to a low, spluttering flame in the circle of stones.
“Well,” she said, “apparently you have the natural talent. Now you just need some refinement.”
“Can I do that?” Ciaran asked. “Summon water as I summon fire?”
“That was no Druid trick,” Brenna said. “Bring your sword, lad. I promised a duel.”
Water swirled from nowhere and soundly doused the fire, bringing it back to a low, spluttering flame in the circle of stones.
“Well,” she said, “apparently you have the natural talent. Now you just need some refinement.”
“Can I do that?” Ciaran asked. “Summon water as I summon fire?”
“That was no Druid trick,” Brenna said. “Bring your sword, lad. I promised a duel.”
Friday, June 11, 2010
Drawing on Air
What started as a simple hearth blaze spiraled higher and higher, stretching toward the sky. Ciaran, who had always been just a little bit afraid of fire, jumped when the logs crackled and popped. Sparks danced in the air, and some of the showered down the sides of the column of fire that was slowly winding upward. They landed on the ground, and to Ciaran’s horror, one of Brenna’s blankets caught fire.
All he could do was emit a terrified squeak.
Brenna paused. “What’s wrong?” She blinked when she saw the blaze, and she reached out, drew in the air.
All he could do was emit a terrified squeak.
Brenna paused. “What’s wrong?” She blinked when she saw the blaze, and she reached out, drew in the air.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Blossom
Ciaran gazed up at Brenna, confirming that he’d heard properly. She just smiled at him and made her blade sing through the air.
A strange thrill rose in Ciaran’s chest. He was doing something...bad. That he knew. He was breaking rules by starting a fire, going against his father’s lifelong restriction, but at least now he knew why his father had the rule - he was afraid of what Ciaran could do.
But if he learned from Brenna, he would be able to control his talent, his father’s fears would be unfounded.
Ciaran stretched forth one hand, and fire blossomed.
A strange thrill rose in Ciaran’s chest. He was doing something...bad. That he knew. He was breaking rules by starting a fire, going against his father’s lifelong restriction, but at least now he knew why his father had the rule - he was afraid of what Ciaran could do.
But if he learned from Brenna, he would be able to control his talent, his father’s fears would be unfounded.
Ciaran stretched forth one hand, and fire blossomed.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Train You
Ciaran was confused. Brenna looked amused.
“What did you do now?”
“I..don’t know.”
Brenna rose up, gave her sword a few practice swings. “See if you can light it again.”
Ciaran stared at the blackened logs. “How?”
“The same way you did it last night, I reckon.”
Ciaran turned his stare on her.
Brenna twirled her sword, making it sing through the air. “I said I’d train you, didn’t I?”
“But I thought - with a sword --”
“A sword isn’t a person’s only weapon. Now...light the fire. When it’s lit, then you can do me the honor of duel.”
“What did you do now?”
“I..don’t know.”
Brenna rose up, gave her sword a few practice swings. “See if you can light it again.”
Ciaran stared at the blackened logs. “How?”
“The same way you did it last night, I reckon.”
Ciaran turned his stare on her.
Brenna twirled her sword, making it sing through the air. “I said I’d train you, didn’t I?”
“But I thought - with a sword --”
“A sword isn’t a person’s only weapon. Now...light the fire. When it’s lit, then you can do me the honor of duel.”
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Out
Ciaran stared. “How did you do that?” he asked. The fire had started too quickly to be normal - he’d seen no spark of flint and tinder; she’d had nothing in her hands when she knelt.
Brenna glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “I’ve learned a few things, here and there. The Holy Men have their ways.”
And suddenly Ciaran knew - he was one of the Holy Men. He could start fires with his mind, just like Brenna, and his father knew it, which was why he’d turned Brenna away, and --
He reached for the fire, and it went out.
Brenna glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “I’ve learned a few things, here and there. The Holy Men have their ways.”
And suddenly Ciaran knew - he was one of the Holy Men. He could start fires with his mind, just like Brenna, and his father knew it, which was why he’d turned Brenna away, and --
He reached for the fire, and it went out.
Monday, June 7, 2010
And Then They Blazed
Ciaran paused in unwrapping his sword. All day he was sure he’d imagined starting a fire without more than a thought, because no one would ever ask him to start a fire, but here she was, asking him to do it again.
“I can’t light a fire,” he said. “Da won’t let me.”
Brenna blinked at him, unwrapping her own sword. “What? I saw you last night - you lit one just fine.”
Ciaran shook his head.
Brenna shrugged. “Aye, if you’re going to be odd. I’ll do it, then.” She knelt, tossed logs into the ring, and then they blazed.
“I can’t light a fire,” he said. “Da won’t let me.”
Brenna blinked at him, unwrapping her own sword. “What? I saw you last night - you lit one just fine.”
Ciaran shook his head.
Brenna shrugged. “Aye, if you’re going to be odd. I’ll do it, then.” She knelt, tossed logs into the ring, and then they blazed.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Fire and Started
She killed people and wielded a sword; she was well past the marrying age and yet showed no signs of having a husband or children of her own.
“Did your parents approve of your path in life?”
She cast him an unreadable look. “My parents died, and then my path was re-set.”
They broke through a cluster of shrubbery and then they were standing in a clearing. A ring of stones marked a spot for a fire, and several blankets and bowls marked Brenna’s habitation. Maybe she lived somewhere different every night.
“Light a fire and let’s get started.”
“Did your parents approve of your path in life?”
She cast him an unreadable look. “My parents died, and then my path was re-set.”
They broke through a cluster of shrubbery and then they were standing in a clearing. A ring of stones marked a spot for a fire, and several blankets and bowls marked Brenna’s habitation. Maybe she lived somewhere different every night.
“Light a fire and let’s get started.”
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Blotting Out the Stars
Brenna veered away from the cliffs and beach, instead heading across the vast expanse of grass - toward the woods. Where the druids lived.
“I thought we were training,” Ciaran said.
“We are,” Brenna said. “Just not out where everyone can see. D’you want old Aoife to tell your Da you’ve been consorting with one of the armed guards of the Holy Men?”
When she put it like that...Ciaran blinked. “You’re an armed guard? So you defend the Holy Men?”
“And kill them, as necessary.” Brenna led him into the trees where they became thicker, darker, blotting out the stars.
“I thought we were training,” Ciaran said.
“We are,” Brenna said. “Just not out where everyone can see. D’you want old Aoife to tell your Da you’ve been consorting with one of the armed guards of the Holy Men?”
When she put it like that...Ciaran blinked. “You’re an armed guard? So you defend the Holy Men?”
“And kill them, as necessary.” Brenna led him into the trees where they became thicker, darker, blotting out the stars.
Friday, June 4, 2010
Training Time
Ciaran came awake sharply, and for one moment he thought he’d heard his mother’s voice. Then he realized there was a demon hovering over him, and it was staring at him with bright golden eyes. A human hand clamped over his mouth before he could scream.
“Sh! You don’t want to wake your father, now do you?”
Ciaran’s racing heart started to slow. It was Brenna.
She eased her hand off of his mouth, and then she beckoned, headed for the open window. Ciaran scooped up the sword she’d given him - hidden beside his pallet - and followed.
Time to train.
“Sh! You don’t want to wake your father, now do you?”
Ciaran’s racing heart started to slow. It was Brenna.
She eased her hand off of his mouth, and then she beckoned, headed for the open window. Ciaran scooped up the sword she’d given him - hidden beside his pallet - and followed.
Time to train.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Defeat and Bed
No, he definitely hadn’t imagined it. Ciaran shook his fist at the kindling and thought so hard he was afraid that vein in his forehead might burst. But the kindling just lay there.
He sighed and sat back, rubbed his eyes. He had no idea how long he’d sat there, and it was likely almost time to get up, and Da would come looking for him, and he couldn’t be caught trying to light things on fire.
Ciaran stood up. As an afterthought, he scattered the kindling with his foot so Da wouldn’t suspect. Then, defeated, he went to bed.
He sighed and sat back, rubbed his eyes. He had no idea how long he’d sat there, and it was likely almost time to get up, and Da would come looking for him, and he couldn’t be caught trying to light things on fire.
Ciaran stood up. As an afterthought, he scattered the kindling with his foot so Da wouldn’t suspect. Then, defeated, he went to bed.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Light
He knelt behind the shed, the pile of kindling before him, and stretched out one hand. Then he closed his eyes and thought as hard as he could.
Light!
Nothing.
Ciaran opened one eye.
Light!
Not a spark.
He reached out and poked the kindling experimentally. It was dry enough, wasn’t it? And he was doing exactly what he’d been doing in Brenna’s cave, right?
Come on, light! he thought.
Not even a puff of smoke.
Ciaran waved his hand fiercely at the kindling. Light already!
No reaction from the kindling.
Ciaran sat back, miffed. Maybe he’d just imagined it?
Light!
Nothing.
Ciaran opened one eye.
Light!
Not a spark.
He reached out and poked the kindling experimentally. It was dry enough, wasn’t it? And he was doing exactly what he’d been doing in Brenna’s cave, right?
Come on, light! he thought.
Not even a puff of smoke.
Ciaran waved his hand fiercely at the kindling. Light already!
No reaction from the kindling.
Ciaran sat back, miffed. Maybe he’d just imagined it?
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Wouldn't It?
The only thing Ciaran was interested in trying again was lighting a fire by thinking about it. He’d actually done it, hadn’t he? But he accepted the sword from Brenna and ducked out of her cave, hurried along the beach. On the way, he paused and scooped up some driftwood, and as he crossed the grass he scooped up some twigs for kindling as well.
While his father slept, he could experiment. Because that would make sense, wouldn’t it? His father forbidding him from ever starting a fire because he could it with his mind.
Ciaran settled in to experiment.
While his father slept, he could experiment. Because that would make sense, wouldn’t it? His father forbidding him from ever starting a fire because he could it with his mind.
Ciaran settled in to experiment.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Tomorrow Night
Brenna rapped Ciaran lightly upside the skull with the pommel of the blade.
“Hello! Are you still in there?”
Ciaran jerked his gaze away from the fire. “Sorry. Yes, of course.” He reached for the blade.
Brenna paused, studied him. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“You look as though you’ve never seen a fire before.” She seemed amused.
“I have,” Ciaran said. “It’s just --” He faked a yawn.
“Right.” Brenna shook her head. “I keep forgetting that normal people need sleep. Look, take this sword home with you, get some rest, and we’ll try again tomorrow night, yes?”
“All right.”
“Hello! Are you still in there?”
Ciaran jerked his gaze away from the fire. “Sorry. Yes, of course.” He reached for the blade.
Brenna paused, studied him. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“You look as though you’ve never seen a fire before.” She seemed amused.
“I have,” Ciaran said. “It’s just --” He faked a yawn.
“Right.” Brenna shook her head. “I keep forgetting that normal people need sleep. Look, take this sword home with you, get some rest, and we’ll try again tomorrow night, yes?”
“All right.”
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Just Thinking
Ciaran scanned his immediate surroundings, but it was fairly obvious that Brenna lived more sparsely than the village beggar. He stared at the pile of kindling helplessly. In the background, Brenna was muttering to herself, searching.
Just light, Ciaran thought. He reached out and poked the kindling.
Sparks flew, and heat blazed up his arm. He cried out and wrenched his hand back, terrified.
“That was well done,” Brenna said, coming to stand beside him. She held out a sword. “Here. It’s lighter than mine.”
Ciaran stared at the merrily-crackling fire. He’d lit it just by thinking about it.
Just light, Ciaran thought. He reached out and poked the kindling.
Sparks flew, and heat blazed up his arm. He cried out and wrenched his hand back, terrified.
“That was well done,” Brenna said, coming to stand beside him. She held out a sword. “Here. It’s lighter than mine.”
Ciaran stared at the merrily-crackling fire. He’d lit it just by thinking about it.
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Without Those
Ciaran blinked. He hadn’t expected that. Everyone in the village knew about Eoghan’s stupid rule, and so he’d never been allowed anywhere near anyone else’s hearth. Brenna gestured toward a ring of stones where she’d gathered some driftwood and kindling and knelt to unwrap a bundle beside a pathetic pile of rags that must have served as her bed.
“All right.” Ciaran knelt beside the ring of stones and stared at the kindling. She had no flint or tinder. How did one set a fire without those? He wasn’t going to admit he didn’t know how to start a fire.
“All right.” Ciaran knelt beside the ring of stones and stared at the kindling. She had no flint or tinder. How did one set a fire without those? He wasn’t going to admit he didn’t know how to start a fire.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Will You?
Brenna eyed Ciaran, assessing. Then she drew her sword, offered it to him. “Go ahead. Give it a good swing.”
Ciaran grinned and accepted it from her - and grunted at its weight. He looked down at it, then at Brenna.
“I’m stronger than I look,” she said. She smirked when he handed the sword back.
“Fine, maybe I was hasty,” Ciaran said. “Will you still teach me?”
“Aye,” Brenna said. “I’ve a practice sword in my bower. Come along.”
She led him into one of the caves, flung off her cloak and set it aside. “Light a fire, will you?”
Ciaran grinned and accepted it from her - and grunted at its weight. He looked down at it, then at Brenna.
“I’m stronger than I look,” she said. She smirked when he handed the sword back.
“Fine, maybe I was hasty,” Ciaran said. “Will you still teach me?”
“Aye,” Brenna said. “I’ve a practice sword in my bower. Come along.”
She led him into one of the caves, flung off her cloak and set it aside. “Light a fire, will you?”
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Of Thinking and Knowing
“You could teach me.” Ciaran followed Brenna as she started along the shoreline. After a moment, he realized where she was headed - the caves along the Giants’ Road.
She looked up at him, and was there laughter in her golden eyes?
“Perhaps.”
Ciaran fell into step beside her. “I’d make a great warrior,” he said. “I’m taller and stronger than you - I could wield that sword easily.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” Ciaran had worked hard every day of his life; he was just as strong, if not stronger than those fishermen and farmers who flirted in the markets.
She looked up at him, and was there laughter in her golden eyes?
“Perhaps.”
Ciaran fell into step beside her. “I’d make a great warrior,” he said. “I’m taller and stronger than you - I could wield that sword easily.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.” Ciaran had worked hard every day of his life; he was just as strong, if not stronger than those fishermen and farmers who flirted in the markets.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Valhalla and Hel
“What are you looking at?” Ciaran asked.
“Just watching the sea...and waiting. For the thunder to strike.”
Ciaran shrugged. “Didn’t you look at the dawn? There will be no storm tonight,” he said. “Besides, lightning strikes, not thunder.”
“That you know of,” Brenna said, and there was something ominous in her tone. “You should go to bed, and I...should train.”
“I thought I ought to run away,” Ciaran said.
Brenna glanced at him as she sheathed her sword. “You should. You’ll not stand a chance when Odin’s Warriors come calling to send your people to Valhalla and Hel.”
“Just watching the sea...and waiting. For the thunder to strike.”
Ciaran shrugged. “Didn’t you look at the dawn? There will be no storm tonight,” he said. “Besides, lightning strikes, not thunder.”
“That you know of,” Brenna said, and there was something ominous in her tone. “You should go to bed, and I...should train.”
“I thought I ought to run away,” Ciaran said.
Brenna glanced at him as she sheathed her sword. “You should. You’ll not stand a chance when Odin’s Warriors come calling to send your people to Valhalla and Hel.”
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Their Colors
“You’re not my mother,” Ciaran said. Disappointment and cold shock washed over him. He wrapped his arms around himself and hunched his shoulders, staring bleakly at Brenna.
“What made you think I was?”
“I could hear her,” he said. “She was calling my name.”
“I thought your mother was dead,” Brenna said.
Ciaran lifted his chin. “I could hear her.”
“You sure you’re not afflicted of the moon?”
“I heard her,” Ciaran insisted. He eyed Brenna’s sword warily. “Why are you down here again? I thought druids lived in the forest.”
“I’m not a druid - I just wear their colors.”
“What made you think I was?”
“I could hear her,” he said. “She was calling my name.”
“I thought your mother was dead,” Brenna said.
Ciaran lifted his chin. “I could hear her.”
“You sure you’re not afflicted of the moon?”
“I heard her,” Ciaran insisted. He eyed Brenna’s sword warily. “Why are you down here again? I thought druids lived in the forest.”
“I’m not a druid - I just wear their colors.”
Monday, May 24, 2010
Sneaking Up on a Woman
Ciaran eased the window open, but the grassy field beyond the hut was empty. He climbed out, barefoot and cold, and circled around the hut. No one was at the bog either.
But then he saw a figure down on the seashore, a woman in a cloak, hand outstretched toward the waves.
Ciaran, the woman said again.
He hurried toward the cliff, scrambled down the treacherous boulders, sprinted across the sand.
“Mum!” he cried.
The woman spun around, and a sword flashed in the moonlight.
Then Brenna said, “Are you mad, sneaking up on a woman like that?”
Ciaran stilled.
But then he saw a figure down on the seashore, a woman in a cloak, hand outstretched toward the waves.
Ciaran, the woman said again.
He hurried toward the cliff, scrambled down the treacherous boulders, sprinted across the sand.
“Mum!” he cried.
The woman spun around, and a sword flashed in the moonlight.
Then Brenna said, “Are you mad, sneaking up on a woman like that?”
Ciaran stilled.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Call His Name
Ciaran was awakened in the night by a woman calling his name. He swam out of a dreamy haze where he was standing on the beach talking to Brenna’s reflection in a tide pool, and his first thought was that she had sneaked into the hut and his father would wake up and go mad with anger, but when he opened his eyes, he and his father were alone.
Ciaran, the woman called, and something in Ciaran knew. He rose up off his pallet.
“Mother?”
Come outside, my son, she said, and Ciaran felt something tug him toward the window.
Ciaran, the woman called, and something in Ciaran knew. He rose up off his pallet.
“Mother?”
Come outside, my son, she said, and Ciaran felt something tug him toward the window.
Careful, Promise
Brenna stared into the flames and imagined she could see the Northern Hordes descending on the rocky shores where the giants once crossed the sea. She wondered if the man leading the charge would wear Dagaz’s face and smile and have his green, green eyes. She knew hundreds of years had passed since she and Angelus - who went by Malak these days - had set foot in the icy kingdom to bring Old Master’s will to fruition, that Dagaz was long buried and forgotten.
She just knew that she’d never forget his face.
“I promise to be very careful,” she said.
She just knew that she’d never forget his face.
“I promise to be very careful,” she said.
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Hands and Smiles
“What you saw shall come to pass, then?” Odran asked.
Brenna said, “The sons of the North are coming with their long ships and their thunder god to bring golden and red hair and blood and destruction to the shores of your green land.”
“And the son of Brighid?”
“Will be ready to fight, or he will die,” Brenna said.
Niamh arched an eyebrow. “You be careful with that lad,” she said. “I’ve seen him. He has quick hands and a quicker smile.”
Deagan laughed. “No one has quicker hands than our Brenna - have you seen her with a sword?”
Brenna said, “The sons of the North are coming with their long ships and their thunder god to bring golden and red hair and blood and destruction to the shores of your green land.”
“And the son of Brighid?”
“Will be ready to fight, or he will die,” Brenna said.
Niamh arched an eyebrow. “You be careful with that lad,” she said. “I’ve seen him. He has quick hands and a quicker smile.”
Deagan laughed. “No one has quicker hands than our Brenna - have you seen her with a sword?”
Friday, May 21, 2010
Death and Thunder
“You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?” Ciaran demanded, miffed, but then he remembered who he was talking to.
Brenna was still laughing. “It’s why I turned away.”
Ciaran had questions he wanted to ask, about where she was from - because she obviously wasn’t really from Eire. How had she come? Over the sea? By magic?
“You should sleep,” she said. “And maybe, tomorrow, think about going somewhere far away.” The laughter slid off her face, and in the moonlight, her golden eyes were almost brown.
“Far away? Why?” Ciaran asked.
“Death and thunder are on the way.”
Brenna was still laughing. “It’s why I turned away.”
Ciaran had questions he wanted to ask, about where she was from - because she obviously wasn’t really from Eire. How had she come? Over the sea? By magic?
“You should sleep,” she said. “And maybe, tomorrow, think about going somewhere far away.” The laughter slid off her face, and in the moonlight, her golden eyes were almost brown.
“Far away? Why?” Ciaran asked.
“Death and thunder are on the way.”
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Stillness and Motion
Brenna glared, and the man’s voice sobered. Ciaran could only watch, puzzled and afraid, and Brenna’s expression became grimmer. Eventually she nodded, lifted the bowl, and emptied the water onto the sand. Ciaran stared as the man’s image spilled and distorted and then sank into shore.
“What’s going on?” Ciaran asked.
Brenna lifted the bowl in her arms and turned away from the sea, and it was then that Ciaran realized that, during her entire conversation with the man, the sea had been utterly, unnaturally still. Moments later, a wave crashed down on both of them.
Ciaran yelped. Brenna laughed.
“What’s going on?” Ciaran asked.
Brenna lifted the bowl in her arms and turned away from the sea, and it was then that Ciaran realized that, during her entire conversation with the man, the sea had been utterly, unnaturally still. Moments later, a wave crashed down on both of them.
Ciaran yelped. Brenna laughed.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Laughter on the Water
“No, he’s not,” Brenna said.
Ciaran swallowed hard. He’d heard the druids sacrificed people to appease gods and make apples grow on trees, but this type of magic was - Brenna was a powerful sorceress. Should he bow or...?
“He’s just very far away, and this is the only way I can speak to him,” Brenna said. “Shouldn’t you be fast asleep, dreaming of a hard day’s work for tomorrow?”
“So...he’s a real person?” Ciaran peered into the bowl.
The man waved, and Ciaran lurched back.
Brenna sighed and said something in that foreign language that made the man laugh.
Ciaran swallowed hard. He’d heard the druids sacrificed people to appease gods and make apples grow on trees, but this type of magic was - Brenna was a powerful sorceress. Should he bow or...?
“He’s just very far away, and this is the only way I can speak to him,” Brenna said. “Shouldn’t you be fast asleep, dreaming of a hard day’s work for tomorrow?”
“So...he’s a real person?” Ciaran peered into the bowl.
The man waved, and Ciaran lurched back.
Brenna sighed and said something in that foreign language that made the man laugh.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Dead Man Talking
Ciaran wondered if he should turn, leave her be, but then he realized she was speaking. To the bowl. It was a language he’d never heard, a touch guttural, rolling in other places. Unable to help himself, Ciaran drew nearer, and he saw there was a face on the surface of the water, a man, handsome, as dark-skinned as Brenna and even more dark-eyed. The man said something, grinned, and Brenna turned, looked at Ciaran.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I saw you,” Ciaran said. “I thought you were going to drown. Is that man...dead?”
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I saw you,” Ciaran said. “I thought you were going to drown. Is that man...dead?”
Sunday, May 16, 2010
On the Seashore
Ciaran dropped both bowls and went careening down the grass. He leapt off the edge of the short cliff and hit the sand, rolled, staggered to his feet.
“Look out!” he yelled.
And then he slowed.
The figure was Brenna, and she had a massive bowl set out before her. Her head was tipped back and her arms raised high, and she was chanting something above the sound of the waves.
Ciaran could only stare as the wave crashed down on her. When it retreated, she was still standing there, drenched, arms outstretched, and the bowl was filled with water.
“Look out!” he yelled.
And then he slowed.
The figure was Brenna, and she had a massive bowl set out before her. Her head was tipped back and her arms raised high, and she was chanting something above the sound of the waves.
Ciaran could only stare as the wave crashed down on her. When it retreated, she was still standing there, drenched, arms outstretched, and the bowl was filled with water.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Wondering
Ciaran hunched his shoulders defensively. “I dunno. I was just...wondering.”
“Well, stop it,” Eoghan said gruffly. He plunked his bowl down on the hearthstone near Ciaran’s knee. “Do the washing up before you turn in.”
“Aye,” Ciaran said. He watched his father settle onto his pallet of bracken, then finished his share of stew. He wandered down to the well to draw water for washing up. While he was dawdling with the rope, he looked up, and he saw someone down on the seashore. A giant blue swell was about to crash down, drag the person out to sea.
“Well, stop it,” Eoghan said gruffly. He plunked his bowl down on the hearthstone near Ciaran’s knee. “Do the washing up before you turn in.”
“Aye,” Ciaran said. He watched his father settle onto his pallet of bracken, then finished his share of stew. He wandered down to the well to draw water for washing up. While he was dawdling with the rope, he looked up, and he saw someone down on the seashore. A giant blue swell was about to crash down, drag the person out to sea.
Friday, May 14, 2010
Curiosity, Sudden
That night, at supper, Ciaran stared down at the crude wooden bowls he’d carved for himself and his father years ago.
“Da,” he said, “tell me about Mam?”
Eoghan grunted. “What d’you want to know? I’ve told you everything I know.”
Ciaran knew that his mother was a foreigner from distant shores and she’d had the same red hair he did, and that she’d been a weaver par excellence, but that was all he knew.
“What was she like? Was she funny? Did she smile like me?” Ciaran asked.
Eoghan stared at his son, brows furrowed. “Why the sudden curiosity?”
“Da,” he said, “tell me about Mam?”
Eoghan grunted. “What d’you want to know? I’ve told you everything I know.”
Ciaran knew that his mother was a foreigner from distant shores and she’d had the same red hair he did, and that she’d been a weaver par excellence, but that was all he knew.
“What was she like? Was she funny? Did she smile like me?” Ciaran asked.
Eoghan stared at his son, brows furrowed. “Why the sudden curiosity?”
Thursday, May 13, 2010
You Said
Ciaran’s brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Brenna said, “I cannot help you.” And she scooped up her harp and sword and started to walk away.
Ciaran stared, dumbfounded. Then he started after her. “Oy, you said --”
An old, blind man with a cane came tap-tapping toward the blanket, and he seated himself in Brenna’s place. He smiled in Ciaran’s general direction. “Can I help you with anything, lad? Interested in buying a fine bowl?”
Ciaran took a deep breath. “No, thank you,” he said. He spun on his heel and started on the road home.
“It means,” Brenna said, “I cannot help you.” And she scooped up her harp and sword and started to walk away.
Ciaran stared, dumbfounded. Then he started after her. “Oy, you said --”
An old, blind man with a cane came tap-tapping toward the blanket, and he seated himself in Brenna’s place. He smiled in Ciaran’s general direction. “Can I help you with anything, lad? Interested in buying a fine bowl?”
Ciaran took a deep breath. “No, thank you,” he said. He spun on his heel and started on the road home.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Not For You
“Is what true?” Brenna’s hands stilled.
Ciaran met her gaze tentatively. “That you can see people who are...dead.”
“It’s true if you’ve the power,” Brenna said. “Who is it that you want to see?”
Ciaran glanced over his shoulder; the other lads were busy flirting with the girls who’d come to buy wool. He turned back to Brenna; she had to be foreign, with that skin and those eyes. “My mother,” he said. “She died when I was just a baby.”
Something unreadable crossed Brenna’s face. “I’m sorry - I cannot help you.”
“Then it’s not true.”
“Not for you.”
Ciaran met her gaze tentatively. “That you can see people who are...dead.”
“It’s true if you’ve the power,” Brenna said. “Who is it that you want to see?”
Ciaran glanced over his shoulder; the other lads were busy flirting with the girls who’d come to buy wool. He turned back to Brenna; she had to be foreign, with that skin and those eyes. “My mother,” he said. “She died when I was just a baby.”
Something unreadable crossed Brenna’s face. “I’m sorry - I cannot help you.”
“Then it’s not true.”
“Not for you.”
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Not Exactly
Ciaran made the rest of his trades, keeping a weather eye on Brenna all the while. He managed to avoid getting into an argument with Aidan while bartering for some rabbit meat. When Aidan became distracted by Aednat, Ciaran ducked away, wandered slowly but deliberately over to where Brenna was singing a song in some unknown language.
“Hello,” he said.
She smiled up at him. “Hello, Ciaran.”
“You remember my name,” he said.
“Yes. Do you remember mine?”
“It’s Brenna.”
“Indeed,” she said. “Are you looking to trade?”
“Not exactly,” Ciaran said. “It’s just...is it true? About those bowls?”
“Hello,” he said.
She smiled up at him. “Hello, Ciaran.”
“You remember my name,” he said.
“Yes. Do you remember mine?”
“It’s Brenna.”
“Indeed,” she said. “Are you looking to trade?”
“Not exactly,” Ciaran said. “It’s just...is it true? About those bowls?”
Monday, May 10, 2010
Just A Girl
“Seeing?” Aoife echoed. “Seeing what?”
“Your fortune or fall, your lover or your child - whatever you desire, if you’re willing to pay the price,” Brenna said. She strummed a glissando of notes, and Ciaran went still, listening intently to the conversation. “You can see the living and the dead, and the yet to be born.”
“You’re a witch,” Aoife said flatly.
“Hardly,” Brenna said. “I’m just a girl, waiting for a boy or a war or something to make my life matter.”
“How much for a bowl?”
“What have you got?”
“I’m a decent spinner,” Aoife said.
“One spool, then.”
“Your fortune or fall, your lover or your child - whatever you desire, if you’re willing to pay the price,” Brenna said. She strummed a glissando of notes, and Ciaran went still, listening intently to the conversation. “You can see the living and the dead, and the yet to be born.”
“You’re a witch,” Aoife said flatly.
“Hardly,” Brenna said. “I’m just a girl, waiting for a boy or a war or something to make my life matter.”
“How much for a bowl?”
“What have you got?”
“I’m a decent spinner,” Aoife said.
“One spool, then.”
Sunday, May 9, 2010
Holding or Seeing
Ciaran waited until Fionn the fisherman was distracted before he made a trade with Fionn’s grandmother, Fingula, who took pity on Ciaran, “the poor, motherless mite”. He glanced over his shoulder to where Brenna was minding her wares and wondered what she was doing at market. Didn’t druids spend their days dancing in the trees or something?
She had a sword by her side, as fine a weapon as any chieftain carried, but she seemed languid, amused by all she saw.
Aoife stopped to talk to her.
“What are you peddling, lass?”
“Bowls, for holding or seeing as you need.”
She had a sword by her side, as fine a weapon as any chieftain carried, but she seemed languid, amused by all she saw.
Aoife stopped to talk to her.
“What are you peddling, lass?”
“Bowls, for holding or seeing as you need.”
Saturday, May 8, 2010
A Girl Amused
Brenna sat on the ground next to a blanket laid with fine pottery and some woven cloth folded in neat stacks. She had her hood tossed back, and her hair - blacker than any Ciaran had seen - gleamed in the sun. The blue swirls on her arms looked surreal, and she seemed less interested in making sales than in playing a small lap-harp, picking out idle melodies the likes of which Ciaran had never before heard.
Several children from the village ventured close, but their mothers pulled them away, making the sign against evil in Brenna’s direction. She just smiled.
Several children from the village ventured close, but their mothers pulled them away, making the sign against evil in Brenna’s direction. She just smiled.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Until
Ciaran wasn’t sure whether he liked the days when his father sent him down to market by himself to trade peat for supplies. Some days, when the weather was fine, Ciaran would huddle miserably beneath his cloak and curse his pale skin, his odd freckles and unnaturally red hair. Most Gaels were dark-haired, and even though Fingula and the old wives said he was lucky, the rest of the lads in the village - strong, hulking farmboys, hunters and fishermen - liked to mock him.
Today Ciaran was determined to make the trades and go straight home.
Until he saw her.
Today Ciaran was determined to make the trades and go straight home.
Until he saw her.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Son of Brighid
“So you’ve met him,” Deagan said.
Brenna nodded, finished skinning the rabbit with a swift tug. “Hair almost the color of wine, eyes the color of the sea - as you said.”
“I’m surprised Eoghan let you near him,” Niamh said, handed Brenna a spit for the rabbit.
“Eoghan didn’t,” Brenna said.
Malachy laughed. “That’s our brave lass. What did you think of him?”
“He’s just a boy,” Brenna said. “Nothing to be afraid of.”
“The son of Brighid is a mighty force. We should all fear him,” Odran said, his blind gaze fixed on nothingness. “He isn’t human. Not really.”
Brenna nodded, finished skinning the rabbit with a swift tug. “Hair almost the color of wine, eyes the color of the sea - as you said.”
“I’m surprised Eoghan let you near him,” Niamh said, handed Brenna a spit for the rabbit.
“Eoghan didn’t,” Brenna said.
Malachy laughed. “That’s our brave lass. What did you think of him?”
“He’s just a boy,” Brenna said. “Nothing to be afraid of.”
“The son of Brighid is a mighty force. We should all fear him,” Odran said, his blind gaze fixed on nothingness. “He isn’t human. Not really.”
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Brenna
Before Ciaran could take a bite of the apple, the bird took to the sky with a harsh cry.
“Farewell, lad,” Brenna said, and she vaulted over the stone wall after it.
“My name’s Ciaran,” he protested, but she vanished over the crest of the hill almost too quickly to be humanly possible.
“Lad, bring your father some wine, would you?” Eoghan called from the other side of the hut.
Ciaran jumped. “Yes, Da!” He took a bite of the apple, then ducked into the hut for the jug of wine kept cooling under the table.
Her name was Brenna.
“Farewell, lad,” Brenna said, and she vaulted over the stone wall after it.
“My name’s Ciaran,” he protested, but she vanished over the crest of the hill almost too quickly to be humanly possible.
“Lad, bring your father some wine, would you?” Eoghan called from the other side of the hut.
Ciaran jumped. “Yes, Da!” He took a bite of the apple, then ducked into the hut for the jug of wine kept cooling under the table.
Her name was Brenna.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Apple Seeds
“My name is Brenna,” she said, and she smiled at him, held out her cupped hands. “Would you like some of my apple?”
Apple. She was just holding an apple. The red was the skin of an apple. Fruit. Edible. Poison seeds, yes, but --
“Thank you,” Ciaran said. He set the bricks of peat down by her feet and reached out. He jumped when her fingers, sticky-damp with juice, tangled with his, and then she pressed half of the apple into his hand. She’d cut it in half, and he saw that the seeds formed a five-pointed star.
Apple. She was just holding an apple. The red was the skin of an apple. Fruit. Edible. Poison seeds, yes, but --
“Thank you,” Ciaran said. He set the bricks of peat down by her feet and reached out. He jumped when her fingers, sticky-damp with juice, tangled with his, and then she pressed half of the apple into his hand. She’d cut it in half, and he saw that the seeds formed a five-pointed star.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Blood Magic
One gold coin would keep a family in peat for a month. Ciaran nodded and accepted the coin, then ducked around to the shed. He darted a nervous glance at his father, but Eoghan was still working and whistling to himself, assuming his son was still hard at work too.
Ciaran drew several bricks of peat out of the shed and wrapped them in old sacking for good measure before skittering back around the hut.
“Miss,” he began, and drew up short.
She was leaning against the wall, cradling a handful of bright, damning red.
It was druid blood magic.
Ciaran drew several bricks of peat out of the shed and wrapped them in old sacking for good measure before skittering back around the hut.
“Miss,” he began, and drew up short.
She was leaning against the wall, cradling a handful of bright, damning red.
It was druid blood magic.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Suffice
“Your kind,” Ciaran echoed. “What is your kind?”
“Some call the men druids, or holy men,” the woman said.
Ciaran had heard of the druids, the mad men who prayed to trees and worshipped goddesses and conducted rituals by blood. He drew back.
The woman smiled. “I suppose you’ve heard the stories, then?”
“I...cannot take so much money,” Ciaran finally said. He wasn’t afraid of old wives’ tales. Even if the other village lads weren’t there to see him, he would be brave.
The woman paused and looked down at the coins, then up at him. “Will one suffice?”
“Some call the men druids, or holy men,” the woman said.
Ciaran had heard of the druids, the mad men who prayed to trees and worshipped goddesses and conducted rituals by blood. He drew back.
The woman smiled. “I suppose you’ve heard the stories, then?”
“I...cannot take so much money,” Ciaran finally said. He wasn’t afraid of old wives’ tales. Even if the other village lads weren’t there to see him, he would be brave.
The woman paused and looked down at the coins, then up at him. “Will one suffice?”
Saturday, May 1, 2010
By Fire
Ciaran nodded and started back toward the shed where he and his father stored their cut peat, but something in the woman’s eyes made him falter, pause. She’d come buying peat the day before - that was what she wanted, right? But then he listened to her words in his mind once more, and a bright blush stole over his features.
“Er...how much peat do you want?”
The woman held out a hand; again with the mass of gold coins.
“It is peat you want, isn’t it?”
The woman laughed softly. “Yes. Warmth by fire is preferable for my kind.”
“Er...how much peat do you want?”
The woman held out a hand; again with the mass of gold coins.
“It is peat you want, isn’t it?”
The woman laughed softly. “Yes. Warmth by fire is preferable for my kind.”
Friday, April 30, 2010
Warmth Tonight
Ciaran raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I mean no harm.”
The woman narrowed her eyes at him, and Ciaran saw something like recognition flash in her eyes. But then it was gone, and she let her hand fall to her side.
“You startled me,” she said. She glanced up at the bird, and then she whistled.
Ciaran could only stare as the thing settled on her shoulder. She reached up, stroked its crest absently.
“I don’t think your father would like you talking to me,” she said. “But I am still looking for a little warmth tonight.”
The woman narrowed her eyes at him, and Ciaran saw something like recognition flash in her eyes. But then it was gone, and she let her hand fall to her side.
“You startled me,” she said. She glanced up at the bird, and then she whistled.
Ciaran could only stare as the thing settled on her shoulder. She reached up, stroked its crest absently.
“I don’t think your father would like you talking to me,” she said. “But I am still looking for a little warmth tonight.”
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Lure
Ciaran checked over his shoulder for his father once more, but Eoghan was on his hands and knees, cutting peat neatly with his knife. He wouldn’t be able to see if Ciaran, say, went to talk to the lady. Ciaran set down his spade and rose slowly, ducked around the side of the hut.
“I have some chicken lungs, if you think those will lure your pet down,” he said.
The woman turned to him, and Ciaran saw that her eyes were bright golden. And then he saw that she’d reached beneath her cloak - for the hilt of a sword.
“I have some chicken lungs, if you think those will lure your pet down,” he said.
The woman turned to him, and Ciaran saw that her eyes were bright golden. And then he saw that she’d reached beneath her cloak - for the hilt of a sword.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Wide-Eyed and Lovely
Ciaran knew her voice - it was the woman who had come seeking peat, the woman her father had turned away. He’d tried to ask Fingula about the ‘holy men’, but she’d just shuddered and shook her head and asked him to help her build a fence to pen in her goats. Ciaran glanced at his father, but Eoghan hadn’t noticed.
Ciaran rose to his feet, started toward the hut, and then he paused, for the woman was standing beside his window, and she’d flung back her hood, raised her arms as if she could catch the bird.
She was lovely.
Ciaran rose to his feet, started toward the hut, and then he paused, for the woman was standing beside his window, and she’d flung back her hood, raised her arms as if she could catch the bird.
She was lovely.
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Memory
Dawn off the horizon turned the sea pale lavender tinged with gold. Ciaran looked up from his work and dragged a hand over his brow. Heat came early in the summer, and he’d been working hard for an hour already.
A harsh cry broke the morning stillness above the sound of his father’s labor, and Ciaran turned, saw a massive black bird swoop across the sky and settled on the roof of the hut. Ciaran thought it looked at him, but then he’d been imagining a lot of that lately.
And then a woman called out, “Machnamh! Return to me!”
A harsh cry broke the morning stillness above the sound of his father’s labor, and Ciaran turned, saw a massive black bird swoop across the sky and settled on the roof of the hut. Ciaran thought it looked at him, but then he’d been imagining a lot of that lately.
And then a woman called out, “Machnamh! Return to me!”
Monday, April 26, 2010
And Her Eyes Were Golden
Ciaran started, shocked at his father’s rudeness, but then he saw it - blue ink curling up the woman’s wrist and vanishing into her sleeve.
“My kind?” the woman asked.
“We don’t serve the holy men in this house,” Eoghan said.
“I am no holy man - just a traveler looking to have some warmth for the night.” The woman sounded amused.
“You wear blue,” Eoghan said.
“Some days I wear red,” the woman said.
Eoghan shook his head. “Please leave.”
The woman inclined her head beneath the cloak. “As you wish.”
Ciaran swore that as she left, she looked at him.
“My kind?” the woman asked.
“We don’t serve the holy men in this house,” Eoghan said.
“I am no holy man - just a traveler looking to have some warmth for the night.” The woman sounded amused.
“You wear blue,” Eoghan said.
“Some days I wear red,” the woman said.
Eoghan shook his head. “Please leave.”
The woman inclined her head beneath the cloak. “As you wish.”
Ciaran swore that as she left, she looked at him.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Your Kind (Reprise)
Ciaran twisted around to see who had caused confusion in his father, who was endlessly polite, and he saw a shadow in the doorway. Or rather, a person, short, dressed in a long cloak, cowl obscuring features.
“Eoghan?” a woman asked.
“I am he. What can I do for you?”
The woman extended a fist, and Ciaran tensed, reaching for his father’s cutting shovel, but then the woman turned her hand over and revealed a fistful of coins, more money than most people saw in a lifetime.
“Peat, please.”
Eoghan reached for it, then stopped. “No. Not for your kind.”
“Eoghan?” a woman asked.
“I am he. What can I do for you?”
The woman extended a fist, and Ciaran tensed, reaching for his father’s cutting shovel, but then the woman turned her hand over and revealed a fistful of coins, more money than most people saw in a lifetime.
“Peat, please.”
Eoghan reached for it, then stopped. “No. Not for your kind.”
Saturday, April 24, 2010
But Someone
Ciaran knew it was strange, that is father wouldn’t let him do something as simple as start a fire, especially since they were peat cutters and their peat burned well, but he knew his father had become a bit...strange after his mother’s death, and Aoife and Fingula and the other women in the village warned him to let it go, so he did.
Aoife’s creaking voice faded, and hope lunged in Ciaran’s chest - food time!
But someone knocked at the door.
Eoghan, who’d been halfway across the hut, turned and opened the door.
“Can I help you sir...ma’am?”
Aoife’s creaking voice faded, and hope lunged in Ciaran’s chest - food time!
But someone knocked at the door.
Eoghan, who’d been halfway across the hut, turned and opened the door.
“Can I help you sir...ma’am?”
Friday, April 23, 2010
For Himself
“Da, ‘m hungry,” Ciaran said. He hunched next to the hearthstone, flint in hand, and stared despondently at the cauldron full of stew waiting to cook.
“In a moment, son - Aoife and I will be done in a moment.” Eoghan was especially nice to widows.
Most days Ciaran would join in his father’s sympathy, but today he was too hungry to care.
“Can I just -”
“No,” Eoghan said. “I’ll start the fire. In a moment.”
Ciaran sighed and sat back on his haunches. He’d seen the fear in his father’s eyes the first time he’d started a fire for himself.
“In a moment, son - Aoife and I will be done in a moment.” Eoghan was especially nice to widows.
Most days Ciaran would join in his father’s sympathy, but today he was too hungry to care.
“Can I just -”
“No,” Eoghan said. “I’ll start the fire. In a moment.”
Ciaran sighed and sat back on his haunches. He’d seen the fear in his father’s eyes the first time he’d started a fire for himself.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Ciaran
Everyone knew Eoghan had found a four leaf clover in his time or something equally lucky, because he had a hardworking son who hadn’t gotten anyone’s daughters into trouble, and the peat he cut always burnt better than anyone else’s.
The entire village had been sure Ciaran was trouble as a child - it was his cheeky grin and propensity to make things disappear with a slide of his hands - but he worked alongside his father day in, day out, and managed to be decent despite not having a mother.
Ciaran had red hair and eyes the color of the sea.
The entire village had been sure Ciaran was trouble as a child - it was his cheeky grin and propensity to make things disappear with a slide of his hands - but he worked alongside his father day in, day out, and managed to be decent despite not having a mother.
Ciaran had red hair and eyes the color of the sea.
Interlude 7
He stood on the edge of the field and watched the flames crackle and dance, golden-bright against the black of the sky. His eyes glimmered green, briefly in the glow, before turning sea-blue once more. He’d roamed for several lifetimes before settling here, where he was meant to be, near the sea.
The man stood at the edge of his small farm, clutching his squalling infant son and staring, wet-eyed and terrified, as his home burned down.
The village would know the truth of the man’s wife, the cause of the fire, and always suspect his son.
The man stood at the edge of his small farm, clutching his squalling infant son and staring, wet-eyed and terrified, as his home burned down.
The village would know the truth of the man’s wife, the cause of the fire, and always suspect his son.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Each Have
“Nine eagles,” Angel murmured. He sounded proud as he and watched the legions depart.
“Eagle of the ninth,” Ella agreed. “They’ll get lost.”
“Lost how?”
“In time,” Ella said. “But they’ll do well, conquering and fighting and killing.”
Angel huffed, exasperated at the way she spoke her knowledge of the future without warning. “So what now? We return to Old Master?”
“No,” Ella said. “You must travel east. The Sarmatians need help. And the Persians. Also the Hellenes.”
“Why do you always know these things when I don’t?”
“We each have jobs. Mine is to see. Yours is to do.”
“Eagle of the ninth,” Ella agreed. “They’ll get lost.”
“Lost how?”
“In time,” Ella said. “But they’ll do well, conquering and fighting and killing.”
Angel huffed, exasperated at the way she spoke her knowledge of the future without warning. “So what now? We return to Old Master?”
“No,” Ella said. “You must travel east. The Sarmatians need help. And the Persians. Also the Hellenes.”
“Why do you always know these things when I don’t?”
“We each have jobs. Mine is to see. Yours is to do.”
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Birds and Reptiles
“What’s this?” Angel asked. He leaned in the doorway and watched Ella stitch a complicated pattern into bright red cloth.
“An eagle,” she said, “for the legions.”
“An eagle?”
She’d seen it in a vision. She shrugged. “I think it looks nice. And they’re fierce creatures.”
Angel scooped up the other red pennant she’d made. “And this creature? I don’t think they exist anymore.”
“It’s a dragon,” she said, which she knew he remembered. From Andrev.
“Why a dragon?”
“It will confuse historians,” she said. So many battle leaders, so many dragon standards. “Have you heard from Lucius Artorius yet?”
“An eagle,” she said, “for the legions.”
“An eagle?”
She’d seen it in a vision. She shrugged. “I think it looks nice. And they’re fierce creatures.”
Angel scooped up the other red pennant she’d made. “And this creature? I don’t think they exist anymore.”
“It’s a dragon,” she said, which she knew he remembered. From Andrev.
“Why a dragon?”
“It will confuse historians,” she said. So many battle leaders, so many dragon standards. “Have you heard from Lucius Artorius yet?”
Monday, April 19, 2010
Treat, Tread
“It’s a good thing you kept your hair short like a boy,” Angel said.
“They all know I’m a girl,” Ella said. She glanced out over the ranks and ranks of men standing in neat formation. Then she considered their spears, wondered at ways to improve accuracy, distance, durability.
“Shame works wonders,” Angel said. “A man’s ego is a fragile thing. Treat it carefully.”
“You mean tread carefully,” Ella said.
Angel glared. “Or don’t tread at all.”
“They won’t learn if they’re proud,” Ella said.
“You speak from experience?”
“You forget General Shanka?”
“Never, my lady.” Angel said, louder, “Attention!”
“They all know I’m a girl,” Ella said. She glanced out over the ranks and ranks of men standing in neat formation. Then she considered their spears, wondered at ways to improve accuracy, distance, durability.
“Shame works wonders,” Angel said. “A man’s ego is a fragile thing. Treat it carefully.”
“You mean tread carefully,” Ella said.
Angel glared. “Or don’t tread at all.”
“They won’t learn if they’re proud,” Ella said.
“You speak from experience?”
“You forget General Shanka?”
“Never, my lady.” Angel said, louder, “Attention!”
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Changes and Forgettings
“If we keep training random foreign armies to take over the world, won’t that give us a bit of a bother when it comes time for Dagaz and the rest to march southward?” Engel asked.
Jente cast him a look. Didn’t he realize that Dagaz and the rest were dead? But she lowered her head and continued sharpening the short, wide sword he’d been given by the Captain. Gladius, she thought it was called.
“So they call you Angelus,” she said.
“Angel,” he agreed. “What shall we call you?”
“Ella,” Jente said.
“Why Ella?”
“Short for ‘puella’. It means ‘girl’.”
Jente cast him a look. Didn’t he realize that Dagaz and the rest were dead? But she lowered her head and continued sharpening the short, wide sword he’d been given by the Captain. Gladius, she thought it was called.
“So they call you Angelus,” she said.
“Angel,” he agreed. “What shall we call you?”
“Ella,” Jente said.
“Why Ella?”
“Short for ‘puella’. It means ‘girl’.”
Friday, April 16, 2010
Agreement
“How so?” the Captain asked.
Engel nudged Jente in the elbow with his leg. She rose up slowly, so as not to startle the guards. Then she shrugged off her cloak and lifted her head, squared her shoulders. The Captain gave her a once-over, and his scowl deepened. He’d noticed what his guards hadn’t in the initial fight.
“Why would he train a slave so?”
“To protect his business,” Jente said.
“Your Master could teach my men?”
Jente glanced over her shoulder at Engel. “He could teach them to take over the world.”
The captain smiled. So did Engel.
Engel nudged Jente in the elbow with his leg. She rose up slowly, so as not to startle the guards. Then she shrugged off her cloak and lifted her head, squared her shoulders. The Captain gave her a once-over, and his scowl deepened. He’d noticed what his guards hadn’t in the initial fight.
“Why would he train a slave so?”
“To protect his business,” Jente said.
“Your Master could teach my men?”
Jente glanced over her shoulder at Engel. “He could teach them to take over the world.”
The captain smiled. So did Engel.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Bare Hands
Engel enjoyed it a little too much when Jente knelt at his feet.
“What says your master?” the captain of the guard asked. He looked bored and skeptical of the entire proceedings.
“Master Angelus says he apologizes for the harm caused but he does not apologize for the incompetence of your men,” Jente said.
The captain scowled, irritated. Engel stood behind Jente, arms folded across his chest. He was smirking.
“Your master thinks he knows combat better?”
Jente translated, listened to Engel’s haughty reply. “Master Angelus says he can train a woman to defeat a man with her bare hands.”
“What says your master?” the captain of the guard asked. He looked bored and skeptical of the entire proceedings.
“Master Angelus says he apologizes for the harm caused but he does not apologize for the incompetence of your men,” Jente said.
The captain scowled, irritated. Engel stood behind Jente, arms folded across his chest. He was smirking.
“Your master thinks he knows combat better?”
Jente translated, listened to Engel’s haughty reply. “Master Angelus says he can train a woman to defeat a man with her bare hands.”
For Years
As there was no war imminent, Engel decided the best way to find himself a spot with the local military was to earn it. By sacrificing Jente, of course. She got into a fight with some local guards, and when other guards showed up to arrest her, their comrades had to confess their humiliation at having been beaten by so delicate a boy. Jente murmured that her master had taught her to fight so as to protect herself while on his business, and then the curiosity came.
“Who is your master?”
She suspected that question would haunt her for years.
“Who is your master?”
She suspected that question would haunt her for years.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Power of Surprise
They ended up finding a house on the edge of the city and crashing there for the night, emerging during the day to learn the language and customs of the locals. Jente had a better knack for learning languages than Engel, so they started the master-slave farce early on and let the locals think Jente was translating for her master out of a sense of duty. When one vendor became difficult, Engel stepped in to prove he did know the language, which left the locals unsettled.
Unsettled was what Engel wanted, but then he enjoyed the power of surprise.
Unsettled was what Engel wanted, but then he enjoyed the power of surprise.
Monday, April 12, 2010
I Think One Day
Engel wasn’t at all amused at winding a sheet around himself as clothing, because he preferred the vanity of the Egyptian kilts, but Jente cottoned on quickly to the fact that the men who went so scandalously shirtless were usually slaves.
No one would listen to them if they looked like slaves.
“You still look like a boy,” Engel pointed out and ran a hand over Jente’s silky cap of dark curls.
“That’s why you’ll have to do the speaking,” Jente said.
“Up there? In that building? What is it?”
“I think, one day, it will be called The Senate.”
No one would listen to them if they looked like slaves.
“You still look like a boy,” Engel pointed out and ran a hand over Jente’s silky cap of dark curls.
“That’s why you’ll have to do the speaking,” Jente said.
“Up there? In that building? What is it?”
“I think, one day, it will be called The Senate.”
Sunday, April 11, 2010
City With Seven Hills
They walked for ages. Engel whined and wished they’d kidnapped a camel or two. He declared Jente several different kinds of masochist for just walking in the sun day in and day out. When they finally stood on the edge of the nation Jente had declared as their “one stop” on the way back to do Old Master’s bidding, Engel enjoyed a handful of the little green fruit-vegetables Jente had told him were called “olives”.
“...What’s so important about the city with seven hills?” he asked, and popped an olive into his mouth.
“We’re here to teach their armies.”
“...What’s so important about the city with seven hills?” he asked, and popped an olive into his mouth.
“We’re here to teach their armies.”
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Attempted Diplomacy
“Pharaoh won’t be happy with us up and leaving in the middle of a war.” Engel shouldered his pack and stood at the top of a ridge of sand, gazed down at the muted fires of their old camp where medics tended to the wounded and priests tended to the dead.
“Actually, he’ll probably be glad we’re gone,” Jente said. “He wasn’t the Pharaoh who took us on, after all. He never appreciated us as much as his great-grandfather.”
“I think you mistake lack of appreciation for fear,” Engel said drily.
“I was trying to be diplomatic,” Jente said.
“Actually, he’ll probably be glad we’re gone,” Jente said. “He wasn’t the Pharaoh who took us on, after all. He never appreciated us as much as his great-grandfather.”
“I think you mistake lack of appreciation for fear,” Engel said drily.
“I was trying to be diplomatic,” Jente said.
Friday, April 9, 2010
On The Way
“What was that out there?” Engel stood over Jente where she was kneeling behind a fallen chariot, trembling, bleeding from a wound in her thigh.
“I saw --” She swallowed hard. “It’s time.”
“Time?” Engel turned to gaze across the battlefield, at the fallen soldiers from both sides.
“I saw him. At least, I think it was him. It was either him or a memory.” Jente might have been talking to her herself; Engel wasn’t sure.
“So we have to go back to Old Master?” Engel asked.
“No. We move on. But we have to make a stop on the way.”
“I saw --” She swallowed hard. “It’s time.”
“Time?” Engel turned to gaze across the battlefield, at the fallen soldiers from both sides.
“I saw him. At least, I think it was him. It was either him or a memory.” Jente might have been talking to her herself; Engel wasn’t sure.
“So we have to go back to Old Master?” Engel asked.
“No. We move on. But we have to make a stop on the way.”
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Past and Present, Tense
Jente danced with her sword, carving destruction and death, painting the air with blood, moving to the song of screaming soldiers. If she closed her eyes, she could remember the first time she clashed with the Hittites in illusion, in dreams, staring down at charioteer with hair like frost and eyes like a fjord at dawn.
When she opened her eyes, she saw a man standing on the edge of the battlefield, pale-haired, ocean-eyed, white-robed, and her heart stopped, her rhythm stuttered. She didn’t even scream when an enemy stabbed her. She stabbed back, and she fled.
When she opened her eyes, she saw a man standing on the edge of the battlefield, pale-haired, ocean-eyed, white-robed, and her heart stopped, her rhythm stuttered. She didn’t even scream when an enemy stabbed her. She stabbed back, and she fled.
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Sides
“What? What is it?” Engel asked.
Jente was kneeling at the mouth of the tent, gasping and choking, coughing.
“I - saw something.” Jente clutched at her throat, eyes wide. Engel scrambled to kneel beside her.
“What did you see?”
“It’s almost time,” Jente said.
“Time to what?” Engel asked.
“Return.”
“To Old Master?”
Jente nodded. She dragged her hand across her mouth and stared out at the golden desert sands, at the thousands of tents arrayed beneath the stars.
“How soon?” Engel asked.
“Not until this battle is won,” Jente said.
“Won by which side?”
“That only time will tell.”
Jente was kneeling at the mouth of the tent, gasping and choking, coughing.
“I - saw something.” Jente clutched at her throat, eyes wide. Engel scrambled to kneel beside her.
“What did you see?”
“It’s almost time,” Jente said.
“Time to what?” Engel asked.
“Return.”
“To Old Master?”
Jente nodded. She dragged her hand across her mouth and stared out at the golden desert sands, at the thousands of tents arrayed beneath the stars.
“How soon?” Engel asked.
“Not until this battle is won,” Jente said.
“Won by which side?”
“That only time will tell.”
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
For A Time
“Who taught them how to fight before?” Engel asked.
Jente scrubbed a cool, damp cloth over her face, scrubbed a hand over her short hair. “Who knows. Someone who wasn’t taught by Old Master, obviously.”
“They’re strong and fit,” Engel said. “It’s a question of technique and instinct at this point.”
“It’s an adjustment for us,” Jente said. “When was the last time we fought with troops on this massive a scale? Some ingenuity and wit is sacrificed for the sake of controlling so many men.”
“So we’re just here learning?” Engel asked.
“Not just learning. Waiting. For a time.”
Jente scrubbed a cool, damp cloth over her face, scrubbed a hand over her short hair. “Who knows. Someone who wasn’t taught by Old Master, obviously.”
“They’re strong and fit,” Engel said. “It’s a question of technique and instinct at this point.”
“It’s an adjustment for us,” Jente said. “When was the last time we fought with troops on this massive a scale? Some ingenuity and wit is sacrificed for the sake of controlling so many men.”
“So we’re just here learning?” Engel asked.
“Not just learning. Waiting. For a time.”
Monday, April 5, 2010
Like That
Jente joined the troops three days later, hair shorn short, fitted in the smallest, cheapest armor the armorer could find. He’d sneered at her and scorned her for her paler skin (which gave her an excuse to wear a tunic for modesty’s sake), but she’d just bobbed her head politely and skittered into place.
She scared the daylights out of the man next to her when she surged into action at Engel’s direction, swinging her sword with practiced ease, dancer’s grace.
At the lunch break, one of the soldiers smiled at her. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”
She scared the daylights out of the man next to her when she surged into action at Engel’s direction, swinging her sword with practiced ease, dancer’s grace.
At the lunch break, one of the soldiers smiled at her. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”
Sunday, April 4, 2010
In a Few Days
“No one’s going to respect me if you loom there in all your girliness,” Engel said between gritted teeth. He and Jente stood at the top of the steps overlooking the courtyard where Pharaoh’s army trained. Engel wore the simple leather armor of Pharaoh’s troops, though it was more ornate as befit a commander.
Jente was dressed like one of Pharaoh’s queens, all silks and linens, head held high, eyes lined with kohl. She admired the neat rows of troops, their gleaming dark skin, their alert faces.
“I’ll cut my hair and dress as a boy in a few days.”
Jente was dressed like one of Pharaoh’s queens, all silks and linens, head held high, eyes lined with kohl. She admired the neat rows of troops, their gleaming dark skin, their alert faces.
“I’ll cut my hair and dress as a boy in a few days.”
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Of The Matter
“Well done,” Jente said. She sat on the edge of her luxurious couch bed, combing out her long, dark curls. “Now his royal holiness has a new general.”
Engel said nothing.
Jente arched an eyebrow. “Not pleased at your success?”
“Pleased, yes,” Engel said. He studied his hands. “Just...I cannot forget my past failures.”
“We’re human - it is human to fail.”
“Are we human? Andrev wasn’t human.”
The heart of the matter. Jente said, “He was a person, wasn’t he?”
“I thought so. He was just a boy.”
“What’s done is done. We have a new job to do.”
Engel said nothing.
Jente arched an eyebrow. “Not pleased at your success?”
“Pleased, yes,” Engel said. He studied his hands. “Just...I cannot forget my past failures.”
“We’re human - it is human to fail.”
“Are we human? Andrev wasn’t human.”
The heart of the matter. Jente said, “He was a person, wasn’t he?”
“I thought so. He was just a boy.”
“What’s done is done. We have a new job to do.”
Friday, April 2, 2010
Sticky Situations
“How dare you mock the efforts of my soldiers!”
Pharaoh roared, and the guards standing on either side of his throne went to draw their swords.
Jente dipped into a low, graceful bow, one more befitting a dancer than a warrior. Engel wished he knew what her skills were before they got into these sticky situations.
“We do not mean to mock,” Jente said. “We watched the battle, and we sorrowed for your men. We merely wish to help, to prevent as many men dying in the next battle.”
Pharaoh hummed thoughtfully, turned to Engel. “What would you have done?”
Pharaoh roared, and the guards standing on either side of his throne went to draw their swords.
Jente dipped into a low, graceful bow, one more befitting a dancer than a warrior. Engel wished he knew what her skills were before they got into these sticky situations.
“We do not mean to mock,” Jente said. “We watched the battle, and we sorrowed for your men. We merely wish to help, to prevent as many men dying in the next battle.”
Pharaoh hummed thoughtfully, turned to Engel. “What would you have done?”
Watch and Learn
“Are we just going to watch them slaughter each other?” Engel asked when Jente made no move to draw her weapon and charge down the hill into the fray. Something in her expression was distant, dangerous, unreadable.
“Not just watch - learn,” Jente said. “About how those chariots function in battle, what their typical formations are. And then see how we would do it better.”
“Would we do it better?”
“Pharaoh had better believe we would.”
Engel watched spears and arrows zip through the air. “Pharaoh would be the man dripping in gold jewelry?”
“Yes, that would be him - the Pharoah.”
“Not just watch - learn,” Jente said. “About how those chariots function in battle, what their typical formations are. And then see how we would do it better.”
“Would we do it better?”
“Pharaoh had better believe we would.”
Engel watched spears and arrows zip through the air. “Pharaoh would be the man dripping in gold jewelry?”
“Yes, that would be him - the Pharoah.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)