Deception's Pawn (Princesses of Myth) (28 page)

I felt a passing regret for putting Lord Artegal in such a position, but I had little choice. As far as I knew from Master Íobar, Odran’s health was in jeopardy. How could I ignore that? I was not Lady Lassaire. At Dún Beithe, I was useless except as a target for malice and an unwilling cause of strife. If I went to Avallach, I would be needed, a source of help and healing.

No matter what else I felt for Bryg, now I owed her
two
great debts: she’d saved my Ea’s life and she’d provided me with directions for reaching the druids’ sacred isle.

A pity she didn’t offer more details
, I thought, marching through an oak grove.
I know enough to go east and find Lord Diarmaid’s stronghold once I reach the seacoast, but how far-famed is he? How soon will I meet anyone who knows his name and can make sure I take the right road? Well, I suppose this is a better situation than if I knew nothing at all about the way to Avallach. Let me worry about asking directions when I meet someone I
can
ask!

I was joking with myself to keep my spirits up, but the truth was I couldn’t keep my mind from circling the problems I faced. What if some of my pursuers traveled the same eastbound road as I? No doubt they were riding while I was on foot. They could overtake me easily! I pushed away the urge to panic by balancing their advantage against my own: I could go where horses could not follow. I didn’t have to stop and search every small farm and petty king’s hold between Dún Beithe and the sea.

But just as I found that crumb of reassurance, it blew away on an afterthought:
I won’t be delayed in the same way they will, but I’m not free to go as fast as I’d like to either. I have Ea in my care. Even if my arm would never grow tired of carrying her, it isn’t healthy for her to be kept blind and unmoving for our entire journey. She must be unhooded, set free to fly, and most important of all, allowed to feed. Whenever I release her, she’ll need time to orient herself to new surroundings, to find prey, and to return to my hand.

I don’t know how many days it would have taken me to reach the sea if I hadn’t been traveling with Ea. She slowed me, but she repaid me for that by lifting my mood with her whenever she took wing. I’d seen the kestrel conquer the air more times than I could count, yet each flight was as thrilling to watch as the first; each carried me to the heights of beauty and wonder.

But one time Ea spread her wings and came close to sweeping me far from the land of the living into the shadows of Tech Duinn, the realm of death.

We had left the forest behind us and were skirting a broad bog. It was a fine day with flowers blooming everywhere, both on the solid ground I trod and over the expanse of nearby wetland. I took deep breaths, even though they carried mostly the reek of plants rotting in the swampy water. I was convinced that the unfamiliar tang in the air was the scent of the sea.

“What do you say, my pretty one?” I asked Ea. “Would you like to stretch those wings?” I removed her hood and let her look around for a few moments before I threw my hand high and let her soar. I rubbed the stiffness from my arm while I drank in the sight of my lovely bird rising on the breeze. She made several dives after prey. If she remained out of sight, I knew she’d been successful in making a kill and was eating her catch. I confess that at those times, I didn’t breathe easily until I saw her rise again.

“All right, Ea, we should move on,” I said when I decided she’d had enough. If she ate too much, she’d have no interest in returning to the lure. I baited the long string and twirled it over my head. Ea took notice and turned her flight toward me, but just as she was about to land on my proffered wrist, she veered sharply and flew away.

I didn’t know what had possessed her, and I didn’t care. All I could do was cry, “Come back! Come back!” as unthinking terror clamped its hands around me. “Oh my Ea, come back to me!” I abandoned my traveler’s sack and ran after her.

I never knew my feet had left the safety of the path until I found myself plunged up to my knees in the muck of the bog. A swath of harmless-looking grass had concealed a pit and now it held me. The more I tried to lift my feet free, the lower I sank. It didn’t help that my legs were shrouded and snared in the thick material of my cloak and dress. I tried to turn around where I stood trapped, hoping I was within arm’s reach of solid ground. It was my plan to throw myself forward, seize two handfuls of well-rooted plants, and pull myself out.

A fine plan, if I could have kept my balance. Instead I became even more tangled in my sodden clothes and fell sideways with a splash. Stinking, filthy water stung my eyes and filled my mouth with foulness. I coughed and spat and snorted, striving to clear it away so that I could breathe. By this time I was in the bog well up to my waist. I craned my neck, praying for sight of something that might save me, but all I could see were the low-growing grass, the sedge, and the taunting beauty of wildflowers. With a last desperate effort, I shouted for help, though I had seen no other wayfarer within earshot when I first set Ea free.

The bog drank me farther down. My mind became crowded with the faces of all the people I had loved, hated, cherished, and lost. I saw my mother’s sorrowing face and Father’s look of anguish as he stretched out strong arms that could not save me. His phantom lips called to me,
Oh, my spark, my child, my Maeve!

My Maeve
 … Odran’s beloved voice was a dream. I imagined him beside me, the warmth of his body driving back the chill of the slimy water. I reached for him, longing for one last touch of his lips, aching with sadness, mourning the life I’d known that had brought me so much sweetness and that was now slipping away.

“Hey! You, can you hear me? Take this!”

An unknown voice shattered my visions. I wiped my eyes with the hand that wasn’t pinned under my sinking body and saw a thick wooden pole looming just above my head. I grabbed it and held on with all my strength.

“Both hands!” the voice came again. “Get it with both hands and I’ll pull you out.”

“I can’t!” I called back. “I fell on my side.”

I heard a long string of curses and then: “All right, it’ll have to do. Here we go.”

The pole began to move. I held on doggedly, though it felt like my arm was being torn from my shoulder. The pain ebbed as soon as I was lifted enough to free my other hand and double my grip. The bog made loud, sucking sounds as my rescuer dragged me out onto grass that hid no deadly secrets.

“Girl, are you all right?”

I looked up into the face of a young man with hair as red as my own. The gold torque around his neck marked him for highborn and the spear he’d used to haul me to safety could only belong to a warrior. He was on one knee beside me, the front of his tunic covered with dirt and grass stains.

“I’m fine.” I sat up slowly. The urge to burst into tears rose in my throat, turning my voice husky.
I will
not
cry
, I told myself severely.
A nice time for that, now that I’m out of danger!
This fellow will think he’s encountered a wandering madwoman.
I regained my self-control and smiled. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for saving me.”

He stood and helped me to my feet. I looked at my ruined clothes and had to laugh. “Does this smell as bad to you as it does to me? I wouldn’t want to offend my rescuer.”

“You’re a strange one, worrying about something like that,” he replied. “Most girls would be howling their heads off after coming so close to death. I was on the bog walkway over there”—he gestured with his free hand—“when I saw you go running straight into the bog. What made you do that?”

“Look there,” I said, pointing to where Ea hovered in the western sky. “That’s my kestrel. I was trying to bring her back to my hand when something startled her and she fled. I was so afraid of losing her, I gave chase without paying attention to where I was going.” I looked sheepish as I added: “I wish I’d known about the walkway, though I probably would have fallen into the mire anyhow. I couldn’t think of anything but her.”

“Where are you bound?”

“For the coast.”

“Where from?”

“I was born in Connacht.” He might encounter Lord Arte gal’s men after we parted, so I didn’t want to give him any information that would put them on the right trail.

“Connacht!” He seemed impressed. “I guessed you weren’t from around here, but even so, I never expected to meet a girl brave enough to rove so far from home and kin.” With a tentative look, he added: “That is, unless you have relatives hereabout?”

I wondered why he was taking such an interest in whether
or not I had family close by. He saw my preoccupied expression and made haste to say, “I thought if you had any friends or family in the area, they’d be willing to give you a change of clothes.”

I spread my hands. “No luck there, I’m afraid, uh—” I paused. “How awkward. You gave me my life but not your name.”

“I’m Fergal.”

“I’m Maeve.” There was no need to provide a false name when mine could belong to more than one girl.

“Pretty name, pretty girl, even soaked with mire as you are.” Fergal grinned widely. “I’d give my best armband to know how your parents could foresee you’d grow up to be as intoxicating as your name.” His gaze lit on the torque I wore and his expression shifted subtly. “Ah! Would you look there? Now I’m ready to give both armbands and earrings to learn why someone wearing
that
rich gift comes running through these lands chasing a falcon!”

Too late, my hand flew to cover the thick gold circlet around my neck. Even a coating of muck couldn’t obscure its beauty. When I’d fled Dún Beithe, I hadn’t thought to leave it behind nor to bury it in my sack of provisions. It had been mine for as long as I could remember, as much a part of me as hands or feet or hair. Now I realized that something so obviously precious had a tongue to betray me, marking me for more than just another girl.

I forced a bold smile and a light laugh. “Why should I have to explain? Don’t you have tales of the Fair Folk in these lands?”

My response made him snicker. “What do you want me to believe, that they gave it to you?”

“It should be my gift to you,” I said, hoping that the promise of gold would distract him from questioning me further. “It may not be enough to repay you for saving me, but I hope you’ll accept it.”

“I’ll take it gladly, my lady. That’s your rank, isn’t it? Or when you spoke of the Fair Folk, did you mean to say you’re one of them?” He took a step closer. “You’re beautiful enough.” He reached out to stroke my hair, and his fingers swiftly strayed to caress my cheek. “How grateful are you for your life, Lady Maeve?”

And just like that, everything changed: my hero was my peril.

I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me!”

My indignant reaction only amused him. “Ha! So much for gratitude. Or amn’t I worthy enough to lie with one of the Fair Folk? Will you use your magic to weaken me?” His hand clamped around my arm. “Let’s see if you can.”

I flailed so violently that I broke out of his grasp and stumbled backward. He cast his spear aside and leaped at me, but instead of retreating farther, I ducked under his outstretched arms and came up behind him. I seized his cast-off spear, meaning to defend myself with it, but the weapon was outsized and too cumbersome for me. I tried using it like a staff, striking Fergal hard across the ribs when he pivoted to face me, but my blow lacked force and his cloak took most of it.

He spat out a foul name, dodged my second swing, and wrenched the spear from my hands. Wielding the weapon deftly and as easily as if it were a twig, he swung the blunt end low and crosswise, scything me off my feet. I was flat on my back an instant before he dropped onto me, one hand clutching
the torque around my neck and twisting so that the metal bit into my throat.

“What do you know?” he said with an ugly leer. “You aren’t protected by magic after all.”

His face came closer. I smelled disgusting breath and the stink of sweat and grime. No self-respecting warrior would let himself go so long without washing. I was in the merciless hands of an outcast, one who knew I was far from home with no kin close enough to hunt him down. I felt him tugging my mire-soaked dress aside. His mouth closed on mine.

I bit him as hard as I could, hard enough to draw blood. In the breath between his yell of pain and the moment he recovered enough to raise a fist against me, I dug my fingers into the earth and thrust a handful of dirt into his eyes. My attacker swore, sputtered, and clawed at his face. I used that instant’s advantage and jabbed him sharply with my knee. I could never have managed it if he hadn’t freed my legs from the waterlogged cloth. He grunted and fell off me.

That’s the second thanks I owe you, Fergal
, I thought fiercely as I clambered to my feet.
Not that I’ll give you any, you monster!

He rose from the ground, roaring. I was ready for him. Sling and slingstone were in my hands. A high, thin whistle cut the air. The small, deadly missile made a sickening sound as it shattered Fergal’s teeth and sent him staggering back, too stunned to feel pain.