Crown Of Stars - Child Of Flame Part 30

The contrast between the two men was striking: Alain lean and smooth, Beor with his broad chest densely matted with curly hair. Alain always seemed to have a smile on his face, the look of a person who no longer has anything to worry about, while Beor suffered from a nagging, irritable discontent. But, in truth, Beor had mellowed over the winter. He didn't argue nearly as much as he had once done. Maybe it was just that it had been a mild winter during which the village hadn't suffered hunger or anything worse than the usual stink of being closed up in their homes for months on end. Maybe they were all just more at peace, despite the ever-present menace of the Cursed Ones, now that Alain lived among them.

"I said I will take on all men, not all bears," said Alain to general laughter.

Beor lifted his hands in imitation of a lumbering bear and, with a mock roar, charged Alain. A child yelped with excitement. Alain sidestepped him, but not fast enough. Beor got hold of a shoulder, they grappled, then Beor twisted Alain back and with brute strength lifted him up and tossed him backward into the current. The big man threw out his arms and let out a scream of triumph that echoed off the tumulus. Adica laughed helplessly along with the rest of the village.

Alain came up thrashing, drenched through.

"Peace!" he cried." You win."

He extended a hand. When Beor took it, to help him up, Alain yanked so hard that Beor tumbled forward into the freezing water beside him. By this time the two black dogs had begun barking, and as the two men heaved themselves spluttering and laughing up out of the water, the dogs splashed into the shallows and, in their excitement, knocked them both over again.

"My stomach hurts," moaned Weiwara, tears leaking from her eyes as she laughed.

"The village will smell a lot better now," cried Beor's sister, Etora, from the crowd." Whew! Look how the river has changed color downstream."

Adica found Alain's wool cloak lying on the rocks. After he waded out of the water, she draped it over his shoulders. A winter spent mostly indoors and the immediate effects of the freezing water had made him pale, dimpled with goose b.u.mps.

"Cold," he proclaimed cheerfully as she fastened the cloak at his left shoulder with a bronze pin. He kissed her cheek.

His lips were as cold as death.

She shuddered.

"Adica." Instantly attentive to her moods, he took her hand in his. His skin was as cold as a corpse's. The vision hit like the slap of cold water.

Six figures, made indistinct by darkness, sit huddled in a stone chamber. A seventh rests on the floor, sleeping, injured, or dead, the figure of a lion sewn into the cloth on his heavy tunic. At the fringe of the light cast by a smoking torch lies a stone slab. On this altar a queen has been laid to rest. Her bones have been arranged with care and respect, and the garments and jewelry fitting for a woman of her status have fallen in among the bones, strands of rotting fabric, beads, a lapis lazuli ring, and armbands of gold. One of the figures lifts the torch to see better, and all at once the gold antlers placed at the skeleton's skull spring into view.

'.ew.

Those are the holy antlers she wears, to mark her place as Hallowed One among her people.

"Adica."

She swayed; clutching him." I saw my dead body," she whispered hoa.r.s.ely." I saw my own grave."

He grabbed her, pulling her close." Speak no evil words! No harm will come to you, beloved. I will not let any bad thing touch you."

"I love you," she murmured into his hair.

"Always you will love me," he said fiercely as the dogs bounded up and thrust their cold noses and damp fur against her hips, trying to squeeze between them, "and always will I love you."

She had never had the courage to tell him the full truth about the task that lay before her. It hurt too much ever to think of leaving him. That was the secret of the Fat One, whose face was twofold, wreathed half in light and shrouded half in shadow. She was the giver of all things, pain and death as well as plenty and pleasure. Was it any wonder that Adica chose pleasure when sorrow and death waited just beyond the threshold?

Meanwhile, villagers had gathered at a respectful distance, waiting for her attention.

"Hallowed One, Getsi has that cough again." "Hallowed One, my husband's snare out in the south woods is being vexed by evil spirits."

"Hallowed One, we've finished repairing the roof that was damaged in the snow, and it needs your blessing."

Alain laughed. Even in repose, his face had a kind of glow to it, but when he smiled, his expression shone. He had the most luminous eyes of any person she had ever met." You make the village live, so it is for me to make you live and be happy."

It is easy to find death in the world, but a greater magic by far to bring life. He was a life bringer.

He had come to her in late summer, and in the natural order of things the days and months had pa.s.sed as the moon waxed and waned and waxed again. Autumn had worked free of summer, winter had cast her white blanket over the world, and in the course of time the Green Man lifted his head from his winter's slumber. So it went, and so it would go on, long after she was gone from the Earth. Even knowing the fate that awaited her as the wheel of the year continued to turn, when the seasons rolled from spring into summer and at last to her final autumn, she was content.

The Holy One had chosen wisely.

Right now, however, the villagers waited.

By late afternoon she finished weaving a protective spell around the snare in the south woods that was being plagued by evil spirits. Returning, she found the village gathered for the last day of feasting in celebration of the new spring. She went into her own house and, with the proper prayers and spells, put on her regalia, the antlers and bronze waistband. With staff in hand, she led the villagers in procession up the tumulus to stand outside the stone loom around the calling ground. Together, they watched the sun set a little to the right of the spring and autumn ridge that marked the equinox. Winter had left them. Now they could plant.

She sang." I pray to you, Green Man, let the seeds take root." She turned to welcome the full moon, rising in the east. ''I pray to you, Fat One, let the village prosper. Let your fullness be a sign of plenty in the year to come."

Every villager had brought offerings, a posy of violets, a copper armband, flint axes, beads, arrowheads, and daggers. With the moon to light their way, they circled down the tumulus and followed the path that led to the marsh at the eastern limit of the hills. Adica knew the secret trail of firm tussocks that led through the marsh to the sacred island As the oldest uncrippled man in the village, Pur the stone knapper was given the honor of carrying in the offerings in her wake.

A fish jumped. The moon made silver of the water trembling through glittering beds of reeds and around gra.s.sy hummocks. The wind brought the scent of the cook fires from the village, and the smell of roasting pig.

CHILI) OF FLAME The sacred island was itself scarcely bigger than two men laid end to end. An old stone altar carved with cups and spirals had been set up here in the time of the ancient queens. She knelt before it and set her palms into two depressions worn into stone. Pur waited patiently. He knew how to listen, having mastered the art of letting stone speak to him, and so he didn't fear the dark of night as some did. He recognized its familiar noises and understood the magic that lies just beneath the surface of the world. After a while she heard the ancient voice of the stone, more a drone than voiced speech, as wakeful as stone ever could be at the quarters of the year when stars and earth worked in concert. She whispered to it, telling it the hopes and wishes of the villagers as well as the various small signs she had observed over the winter: where the first violets had bloomed, how a forest stream had cut a new channel, how both Weiwara and a ewe had borne living twins, how many flocks of geese had pa.s.sed overhead last autumn on their way south to their winter nesting grounds. The stone understood the secret language of earth, and it held the life of the village in its impenetrable heart.

When she was done with the prayers, she and Pur cast the offerings into the marsh, as they did every year at the festival of spring, a sacrifice for a good year.

After that, she was through with being the antlered woman, the crossing-over one who can speak both to humankind and to the G.o.ds, to made things and to wild things. Pur moved away so as not to see anything forbidden, and with the prayers and spells she knew best, she became Adica again, putting away her regalia in its leather bag.

As they made their way back, water squelched and sucked beneath her feet on the lowest hummocks, half drowned in the marsh. A water snake glided away over the quiet water. Pond weed edged the marsh. Within the sheltering darkness, she overheard the conversation of those waiting for her return.

"All winter you speak of the war with the Cursed Ones," Alain was saying." Do you think they attack with the spring?"

"Of course they will attack." Kel always sounded as if he had fire burning under his feet." They hate us."

"Why? Can there not be trading and talk? Why can there only be hate?"

Alain was always full of questions about things that seemed obvious to everyone else. The wind blew a light stalk of reed against her face, then away. Pur shifted behind her, but she didn't move. Wherever she walked, people marked where she was. Rarely did she have a chance to overhear when people spoke words unshaped by their concern about what she might hear.

Kel snorted." Never can we trust the Cursed Ones. They sacrifice their human captives by flaying them alive, and then they cut out their hearts and eat them!"

"Have you seen it done, Kel?" asked Alain quietly.

"No! But everyone knows- Urtan broke in." Humankind has always warred against the Cursed Ones, ever since they came over the seas in their white ships. Only now the fight has grown more desperate because the Cursed Ones have brought their metal weapons to the killing field."

"Now we have a chance to defeat the Cursed Ones," exclaimed Kel eagerly." That's why they tried to kidnap the Hallowed One. They'll try again. We must be on our guard day and night- "Hush, now, Kel," said Urtan quietly." You'll wake the sleeping. That's why we have to wait here for the Hallowed One to return from the offering ground. In the old days, she would have walked to the marsh and returned all alone, but now we can't risk leaving her alone. The Cursed Ones won't give up."

"I'll protect her," said Alain in that stubborn way he had, more sweet than grouchy.

"No one can protect her," said Kel, stung by Urtan's words into speaking unwisely." She has a doom laid on her- Behind her, Pur hissed displeasure.

"What do you mean?" asked Alain.

Adica was suddenly aware of the gra.s.s stuck to her fingers. An owl hooted. There came a sudden splash, then silence.

Urtan started in." If your mother were alive today, she'd be ashamed to hear you talking like a crow, all loud noises and strutting but without two thoughts to rub together. You treat words like pebbles. Grab a handful and throw them to the winds. Maybe you sleep in the men's house now, but that doesn't mean you're a man until you've earned the right to have your counsel listened to."

"Here, now," began Alain.

"Nay, let him go," said Urtan as Kel thrashed away into the brush." That'll make his ears sizzle. He'll think twice next time he speaks."

"But what did he mean about-?"

Pur coughed loudly.

"Hush," said Urtan." Here comes the Hallowed One and Pur back again."

Adica made as much noise as possible, coming those last ten steps before she emerged into the clearing where a dozen adults waited, armed with spears or staffs." Come, let us go to the feast."

Mother Orla had died at the solstice of a lung fever and been buried with her gold neck ring, one hundred amber beads, a full bark bucket of beer, and a handsome flint dagger. The villagers had held council for over a month-there wasn't much else to do in the winter-and finally chosen a new headwoman for the village, one who would bring them luck and prosperity.

Now, it was young Mother Weiwara who stepped forward to hand Adica a wooden ladle full to the brim with ale brewed of wheat, cranberries, and honey, flavored with bog myrtle. It stung a little, having gone somewhat flat after a winter in storage, but still had a good, strong taste, nothing sour or corrupt.

It was a balmy night, as sweet as a newborn child. They ate roast pig garnished with bistort and nettle tops, flat loaves of barley bread, stewed hedgehog, and greens, and drank enough ale to fill two rivers while Weiwara told the story of how the ancient queen Toothless built the tumulus with magic. Urtan sang of the hunt of the young queen Arrow Bright, who had captured a dragon and then set it free. If, as the night wore on and the moon cast its dazzling spell over the village, some women went off into the dark with men who weren't their husbands, no one minded. The Green Man would have his own way in these matters.

Adica sat beside her husband, content. She had bathed his hair in violet-scented water that morning, and she could still smell it there. He always smelled of flowers.

He knew songs, too, that he sang in the language of the dead, which none of the living could understand. The dead still feasted and loved and fought on the Other Side. Of course they would need songs, like offerings. They sat by the fire for a long time, watching the flames tumble and lick, hearing the red-hot coals pop or sigh. Everyone else had gone. The moon rode high along her path, and Adica didn't ever want the night to end, as if they could be stranded here forever, untouched by fate.

Alain held her close. He stroked her belly and whispered in her ear." We make a child?"

One of the dogs, lying to his left, growled.

She smoothed a thumb over his cheek, found his lips, kissed him." No child." She had no more grief to give over to a child who would never be born. Like a loosed arrow, she had to remain fixed and true so that she would hit her mark. The Holy One had given her more than she had hoped for, and she would not let regret stalk her now.

He misunderstood her." No child lives here yet." His fingers tapped her skin caressingly." We can make a child, yes?"

She sighed, not wanting to have to make him understand." No child, beloved."

"I will never let you or a child come to any harm." Suddenly pa.s.sionate, almost angry, he leaned away from her, still grasping her elbows, so that he could look into her face." You think I cannot protect you, just like I could not protect-"

Both dogs growled and stood.

"That's the loom! Someone is working the loom." She leaped up and ran to the gate. Alain and the dogs caught up with her there. He had brought a torch but not lit it.

"Do you hear the stones?" She waited for the night watch to open the narrow portal and squeezed through, Alain following after. Crossing the bridge, she turned her face toward the hill. Threads woven out of the loom of the sky, drawn down by magic's shuttle, traced so faint a pattern against the night sky and the glare of the full moon that only an eye trained to magic could discern them. The stones lay out of her sight at the height of the hill.

"Look!" said Alain as both dogs barked. A torch bobbed high up on the ramparts.

Who had come? Was it the Cursed Ones again?

The night watch blew two short calls to alert the village. Alain pulled her back through the portal, barring it behind them. Safe behind the palisade, she climbed the ladder that led to the gate tower. There, she waited as the torchlight approached and as adults of the village gathered outside the common house, ready with weapons.

A woman she had never seen before approached the gate, torch held high to light her path. In her other hand, she held a spear tipped with a flint point. Her hair, braided with bone and sh.e.l.l beads, gleamed under the torchlight, and her skin was mottled with strange markings, perhaps a scabrous disease.

But her voice was clear and strong." Let there be peace among allies."

"Let those who suffer join hands," called Adica in reply. She signaled to the night watch. As he unbarred the portal, she climbed down from the parapet so that if the messenger brought evil spirits in with her, she would be the only one to take harm from them. The crowd gathered at the common house murmured at her appearance, but none called out. They, too, waited.

The woman had no disease: she bore the tattoos common to Spits-last's people, who called themselves "Akka," the Old Woman's people. She spoke the language of the Deer people with so heavy an accent that it was hard for Adica to understand her.

"I am a Walking One of the Akka people. This message I bring for the sorcerer of the Deer people from the one who falls down when the spirit rides him."

"I am Hallowed One of the White Deer people. Do you bring me a message from Falling-down?"

"This message I bring from the sorcerer who falls down when the spirit rides him: 'Walk with the messenger who brings you this message. Danger time this day and tomorrow. Knife of Cursed Ones cuts our threads. They know who we are. Come to the land of the Akka people, of the north country. Come quick quick. There I wait.'"

The words chilled Adica." I will come."

Alain had the intent look on his face that meant he was working hard to understand words. At once, she realized how long it would be until she saw him again. This the looms demanded: you could never predict how many days or even months each crossing would take. The loom's burden had never seemed as harsh as it did at this moment. How could she make him understand how bitterly it hurt her to leave him?

He spoke first." I come with you to keep you safe." He turned at once, not waiting for her answer, and sent Kel off to fetch his staff, dagger, and cloak.

Relief left Adica speechless.

Mother Weiwara came forward." Winter departs late in the north country where the Akka dwell." She sent villagers for water and travel bread, winter clothing, hide leggings and shirts, fur cloaks fastened with precious copper pins, and a complicated binding of gra.s.s and leather to protect feet from bitter cold.

Alain beckoned Beor over." Put more adults on the night watch. Let all adults walk armed to the fields. If there is danger, if the Cursed Ones are planning an attack, then you must be ready."

Beor turned to Adica." Give me the bronze sword, the one you hid away. If the Cursed Ones attack us and you are not here to protect against them with your magic, then it will go worse for us. It isn't right that we might have had a weapon in our hands to fight them off."

The memory of her vision flashed in her mind, of the bronze sword in Beor's hand as he wreaked havoc. It was a terrible choice, and perhaps an unfair one, but because she had no time, because the river had caught her in its grasp and swept her forward, she gave in." Very well. Come with us to the loom. I will give you the sword."

They made a silent procession, walking up through the ramparts girded with staffs, torches, and traveling pouches slung over their shoulders. Beor admired the Akka Walking One; Adica recognized his belligerent way of flirting. The Akka woman did not return his admiration. She paid no attention to him at all. Indeed, she seemed most interested in Alain's black dogs. She had the broad features common to the Akka people and the broad shoulders of a woman who has tackled a lot of reindeer, and it was hard to tell whether she contemplated those dogs with such an avid gaze because they looked fit to serve her, or to be eaten for supper.

Adica made them wait at the base of the highest rampart while she went up alone to dig up the grave of bronze. Six months buried in earth had caused the sword's metal to fur over with green, and its soul to slumber. But where the starlight's gleam stroked the blade she felt it waken under her touch, felt it grope upward in the way a hand brushes aside a spider's web that blocks the entrance to a cave.

War is coming. The sword had a seductive voice. Free me.

She had no spells to counter its angry soul, no way to bind it so that it would slumber again. Perhaps Beor was right. If war was coming, then they had to defend themselves. It wouldn't be right to leave the village with anything less than what the Cursed Ones themselves carried. Perhaps the conjuring man of Old Fort could study this bronze sword and learn the secrets of its making. Perhaps he could make more such swords. Then the White Deer people would not always fight at a disadvantage.

It still wasn't easy to give Beor the sword.

"Go," she said to him." I must weave the pa.s.sage, and you must go back to the village."

He drew her aside, looking restless." I was a good husband to you, Hallowed One." He pulled on his right ear, as he often did when he was irritated." But you never said so."

He went on without waiting for her reply." Not that I begrudge you the man. I know he's not like us. If the Holy One brought him to you, then I'm not one to say 'nay' to her wishes, but I won't have it said that I wasn't a good husband to you or that I went without protest when the elders made me leave your house."

"No, you did not go without protest," she murmured.

That satisfied him enough that he left, halberd and sword held triumphantly before him. She shuddered. Light flashed off the tip of the bronze sword, and for an instant she thought she saw blood. Then she lost sight of him.