Tea fled from the broch, hurrying down the steep steps to the yard below.
Fowl scattered before her as she strode out of the fort, through the cleft in the rock face. The village was deserted, as most folk were indoors resting after their main meal of the day. Relieved that she was alone, Tea took the winding path along the cliff face to the west.
A chill wind blew in from the north-west, stippling the dark waters of Loch Bracadale. Tea barely felt the cold, such was her desire to be away from her sister’s pity and Wid’s concern.
Out of breath, she reached the edge of the rocky cliff-face and turned her face up to the buffeting wind. Tears streamed down her face, and her shoulders shook with the force of the emotion she kept in check.
Curse you Galan—why can’t I forget you?
Then she saw a slight figure, swathed in a thick fur cloak, hurrying up the path behind her. Eithni’s unbound hair twisted and billowed around her pale, heart-shaped face. Her eyes had deepened from their usual hazel to a blazing green as she reached her.
Tea’s first reaction was anger. She scrubbed at her tears and turned on her sister. “Can’t you give me a moment alone?” she snarled.
Eithni put her hands on her hips, her gaze narrowing. “Not when you’re making the biggest mistake of your life. If you love Galan, then you must to go to him.”
“You don’t understand,” Tea shot back. “It’s not as easy as you think.”
“Yes it is—you’re the only one making it complicated.”
Tea stared at her a moment before folding her arms across her chest. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Eithni drew herself up, her eyes glittering with fury. “I’m no goose, Tea—but I’m beginning to think you are. Do you know that when we went to the Lochans of the Fair Folk and I saw the man you were to marry, I was jealous? I couldn’t believe how lucky you were—to marry such a fine warrior, a man who wanted peace not bloodshed for his people. I hoped I’d one day be as fortunate as you, but Forcus tore that hope from me—he destroyed any dreams I’d once had.”
Tea held her sister’s gaze, her body going cold at these words. She did not want Eithni to continue, but now that her sister had begun to speak, the words rushed out in an unstoppable tide.
“The gods have always been kind to you, Tea, yet you throw their benevolence back in their faces. If you keep taking it for granted they will stop giving. Our parents and Loc are gone—we won’t see them again until we pass into the realm beyond—but Galan is still alive. You still have a chance at happiness, don’t throw it away.”
Tea stared at her, shocked by the bluntness of Eithni’s words. Had she really been as blind as her sister accused her of being?
Was she really that ungrateful?
***
Galan had just returned from a scouting expedition with his warriors when the bandruí approached him.
Their party had found nothing suspicious, no sign of any further raids, yet Galan was in a dark mood this afternoon. He had barely spoken to his men during the day, preferring to keep his own counsel. Sensing their chief’s ill-humor, his warriors had wisely given him space. Galan did not share in their conversation as they unsaddled and rubbed down their ponies.
After seeing to his stallion, Galan strode across the yard toward the fort. He felt in need of a strong cup of mead and time alone in his alcove. Initially, when he had first returned to Dun Ringill from Dun Ardtreck, he had been unable to sleep there—for memories of Tea were too raw, too fresh. However, a month on he now spent time there once more. The space gave him the solitude he craved.
Noting Galan’s unwelcoming expression, Ruith’s gait slowed as she drew close to him. Despite her advancing years, the seer still moved with the grace of a much younger woman. Barefoot, her lithe frame shrouded in a heavy woolen cape, she strode across the frozen earth without seeming to notice its chill. There had been a hard frost that morning and the ground had just started to thaw.
The bandruí reached Galan and fell in step next to him. “Good afternoon.”
Galan grunted and lengthened his stride. He did not wish for company right now; could this woman not see that.
“Galan, I must speak with you.”
He cast her a dark look. “Speak then.”
“Please stop a moment. I require your full attention.”
Irritation surged, but Galan did as bid. He stopped and turned to her. Ruith was much shorter than he was, and so she had to crane her neck up to meet his gaze. In her dark-blue eyes he saw consternation. The seer was not a soft, gentle woman—she was known to speak plainly and to be fierce when riled. The empathy he saw now in her gaze was new.
“You are so changed, Galan,” she observed.
Galan shrugged, his irritation mounting further. “Is that what you have to say to me?”
Ruith shook her head, her features tightening. “I cast the bones this morning. It is a good time to seek answers from the gods. The sun grows warmer and the days begin to lengthen—soon the first signs of spring will be here.”
Galan folded his arms across his broad chest and regarded her under hooded lids. “And what did the bones tell you?”
He knew his tone was bordering on disrespect. Had he spoken to the bandruí in such a manner as a lad, his father would have knocked him to the ground. Muin had always revered the seer, and Ruith’s mother too, who had lived among them as bandruí before her.
However, if he had given offence, Ruith did not show it. She was tough—life had weathered but not broken her—so his words appeared not to touch her.
“That there has been great upheaval to the south,” she told him, her face solemn. “For good or bad I do not know.”
Galan’s chest constricted at this. He thought of Tarl and Donnel and wondered if his brothers still lived. They had always been so close that he almost believed he would have known if either of them had fallen; that he would feel the connection, the thread that bound them, snap.
“They must have attacked the wall,” he mused.
Ruith nodded. “That is not all. The marks of the Crossed Arrow and the Rising Sun fell together when I cast the bones. Change is coming—newcomers to the isle.”
Galan tensed at this news. “Invaders?”
The bandruí shook her head. “I know not—yet perhaps it is wise to shore up your defenses.”
Galan gave a curt nod. “I will see to it.”
He went to move on, but the seer reached out and grabbed his arm, forestalling him. “Wait. There is something else.”
He turned and looked back down at her face. Ruith’s expression had softened, and a smile curved her lips.
“The mark of The Eagle and The Wolf fell side by side,” she said gently, although her grip was like iron upon his arm. “And The Cauldron fell beneath them.”
Galan stiffened. He knew what she was insinuating. The Cauldron was a positive mark for their people, one associated with healing and rebirth—with miracles.
He stared at the bandruí, holding her gaze for a few moments longer. “She’s not coming back, Ruith,” he said finally. “Tea made her feelings clear. She’ll remain at Dun Ardtreck with her people. I’ll not see her again.”
“But the bones—”
“The bones have been wrong before,” he snarled, tearing free of her hold. “I will not cling to hope when there is none.”
With that, he pivoted on his heel and strode away, leaving the bandruí staring after him.
***
Night settled over Dun Ardtreck. The sky was clear and once the last vestiges of the day had faded, the glittering stars came out to play one by one.
Tea sat alone in her alcove and packed the few essential items she would carry with her to Dun Ringill.
You must go to him.
Her argument with Eithni had drained her, but in the end her sister had succeeded in convincing her to leave Dun Ardtreck, to return to Galan. Initially, the decision had caused relief to wash over her, followed by a fluttering of excitement in the pit of her belly that she would see Galan again. Now that the rest of the day had passed she was beginning to doubt her decision.
What if Galan hates me now?
She would not blame him, if he did.
What if I go to him and he turns me away, humiliates me?
Tea shook her head, to clear the litany of self-sabotage that marched through her. She had to stop doing this to herself, or she would turn herself mad. The decision had been made, and now she had to find the courage to face her husband once more. If, in the interim, he had cast her out of his heart then she would have to face that fact.
Of course, Wid was delighted that she had decided to return to Galan.
She had initially been offended that he seemed so eager to be rid of her. Yet she knew Wid was of the same mind as Loc; that the union would serve to strengthen alliances between the two tribes. He had offered four of his warriors to escort her to Dun Ringill at first light. If they rode hard they would reach Galan’s fort by nightfall.
Tea rolled a woolen tunic up and placed it into the single leather pack she would bring south, before she reached for the new linen shift that Eithni had sewn for her. She doubted she would sleep tonight; for she already felt sick with nerves.
Movement behind her, made her turn. Eithni entered the alcove and let the hanging of sewn goat-skins fall closed behind her.
One look at her sister’s face and Tea knew she had something to tell her.
“What’s wrong?
Eithni smiled, although her features remained strained, her gaze intense. “When you go tomorrow, I want to come with you.”
Tea stiffened, her gaze widening. “Why would you want that? Dun Ardtreck is your home.”
Eithni shook her head. “Not after what Forcus did it isn’t. Everywhere I turn there are memories. I can’t look at the hearth in the hall without seeing Loc lying next to it, bleeding to death. I can’t sleep in my alcove without remembering what Forcus did to me there. I need a fresh start—I want to come with you.”
Tea studied her sister a moment. Truthfully, her sister’s request pleased her. She had missed Eithni over the past few months and knew that her skills as a healer were needed at Dun Ringill.
“But surely Wid won’t allow it—you’re the healer here.”
Eithni shook her head. “I asked him earlier, and he understands why I do not wish to stay. There is another young woman in the village, whom I’ve been training in herb lore. She will make an able healer. There’s no need for me to stay on that account.”
A smile crept across Tea’s face. “Then I would love to have you with me, Eithni.” She climbed to her feet and hugged her sister. “You’d better go and pack.”
Eithni pulled back from Tea, excitement tightening her delicate features. “No need to worry about that—I already have.”