“That is a complex question. He is independent, and it has made him all that he has. He holds to the old ways of raiding and stealing from other clans. But there are other reasons that I think it best you find out for yourself.”
“He is a thief?”
She chuckled. “Yes. Just like you.”
“Well, I like him. I don’t care about the others.”
She laid a hand on his shoulder. “Here is a first lesson for you, Gaelen: Care. That is what the clan is. We care. For one another. Even if we dispute matters, we still care. I tell you this. If Caswallon’s house burned to the ground, even those who disliked him would gather around and help rebuild. If Caswallon died, I would be cared for should I need it. If Caswallon and I both died, little Donal would be taken in by another family-perhaps one that disliked us both-and raised with love.”
He had been hard to convince, especially after the early trouble with Agwaine. But at least he had found friends. Maeg sat by the bedside for a while, then moved to the window.
The moon was high, the mountains silver, the valley at peace. Behind her, Gaelen stirred and opened his eyes, seeing her silhouetted against the sky. “Maeg,” he whispered.
She returned to the bedside. “Yes?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For caring.”
Leaning down, she kissed his brow. “Sleep well, young warrior,” she said.
Caswallon strolled up toward the cave, aware that the old man was watching him. Oracle’s sunken blue eyes looked hard at the clansman. “You look tired, man,” said Oracle as Caswallon sat beside him in the cave mouth.
“Aye, I am tired. And hurt by the suffering of those poor boys.”
“A bad day,” agreed the older man. For a time they sat in silence, then Oracle spoke again. “It is always good to see you, my boy. But I sense there is something on your mind, so spit it out.”
Caswallon chuckled. “As always, you miss little. Taliesen told me to speak to you; he said it would please him for you to tell the story of what happened beyond the Gate.”
“Aye, please him and shame me.” Oracle stood and wandered back into the cave, sitting beside the glowing fire. Caswallon joined him. Oracle filled two clay cups with watered wine, passing one to the younger man. “I have told no one else this tale in twenty-five years. I trust you not to repeat it while I live.”
“You have my word on it,” Caswallon assured him.
“I wanted to be High King,” said Oracle. “I felt it was my right after the battles I had led-and won. But the people rejected me. This much you know already. I took my followers and we overpowered the druids guarding the Vallon Gate. We passed through. At first it seemed that nothing had changed; the mountains remained the same, High Druin still stood sentinel over the lands of the clans. But it was different, Caswallon. In a land beset by war, a woman had become High Queen. Her name was Sigarni. For reasons which I cannot explain now-but which you will understand later-I shall say no more about her, save that my men and I helped her in her battles with the Outland army. We stayed for two years. I still wanted to be a king, to found my own dynasty. I returned, with the survivors of my men, to the Vallon Gate, and passed through once more. It was the biggest mistake of my life.”
The old man drained his wine and refilled the cup, this time adding no water. Looking at Caswallon, he smiled grimly. “Cursed is the man who achieves his dreams. In this new land-after ten blood-drenched years-I did become king. I led my armies to victory after victory. Great victories, Caswallon. Great victories…” He fell silent.
“What happened?” asked the clansman.
“Failure and flight,” responded Oracle, with a sad smile. “I was betrayed-but then I deserved to be. Just because a man desires to be a king, it does not necessarily follow that he will make a good one.” He sighed. “But this is not what Taliesen wanted me to tell you. While I was fighting for my kingdom I made an alliance with a butchering killer named Agrist. I told him the secrets of the Gateways. After he had betrayed me, and plundered his way across my kingdom, he led his army through another Gate.” Oracle licked his lips. “They arrived here forty years ago; they are the Aenir, Caswallon. I brought the Aenir to destroy us all.”
“They haven’t destroyed us yet,” Caswallon pointed out.
“They are demons, Caswallon, unsurpassed in violence and terror. I have seen them fight. I told Gaelen the clans were strong, like wolves. It’s true. But the Aenir will outnumber us by twenty to one. They live to conquer and kill.” Oracle looked up. “Did Sigarni speak to you before she died? Did she mention me?”
“No, but she knew me, Oracle. Can you tell me how?”
Oracle shook his head. “I could-but I won’t. Trust me, Caswallon. All will be revealed to you. I can say no more.”
During the months that followed the horror in the mountains the five survivors found their lives had changed substantially. They were now young men, accepted as clansmen, but more than this they were “Five Beast Slayers.” A Farlain bard named Mesric had immortalized them in song and their deeds were the envy of the young boys of all clans.
The mystery of the Queen was much discussed, but upon that theme the druids remained silent. Taliesen had questioned the boys at length on their conversation with the woman, but he gave them no further hint as to her history. All five spent a great deal of time thinking back over the Hunt, and the changes it forced on them.
Layne, the deepest thinker, saw Gaelen with new eyes, seeking his company often and recognizing in the scarred youngster the signs of a natural leader.
Lennox drove himself hard once his broken arm had mended. He hauled logs, lifted rocks, spent all his spare time building up his strength. The huge frame gathered power and added muscle and still he drove himself on. His strength had been something he could rely on in a world where his wits were not as keen as his brother’s. The beast had been stronger and Lennox was determined no enemy would best him again.
Gwalchmai no longer feared being unpopular, born as this had been from a sense of inferiority. He had always known Gaelen was a leader, and been happy to follow. But he watched Lennox pushing himself to greater limits and recognized in the young giant the kind of fear he once had himself.
For Gaelen the world had changed. He realized now that his life of loneliness in the city had been, by a freak of chance, the perfect apprenticeship. He had learned early that a man had to rely on himself. More than this-that such a man was stronger than his companions. And yet, having tasted the chilling emptiness of a life alone, he could value the clan as no other clansman ever would.
There was a natural arrogance now about the tall young man with the white blaze in his red hair. He ran like the wind, reveling in his speed. And though his bowmanship was merely average, he threw a spear with more accuracy than many tried warriors. He boxed well, emotions in check as Caswallon had taught him, and his sword work was dazzling. Yet the arrogance he showed in his skills was missing in his life, and this made him popular without effort on his part.
The wise men among the Farlain marked him well, watching his progress with increasing interest. All of which hurt Agwaine, who saw in Gaelen a rival for the ultimate prize.
The Hunt had changed Agwaine more than any of them. He had been schooled to believe he was more than special, a talented natural leader to follow his father. And nothing that had transpired in the mountains had changed that. All that had changed was that Agwaine feared Gaelen was the better man. Before the encounter with the beast he would have hated Gaelen for bringing home such a truth. Now he could not.
They took part in their first Games together in the five-mile run, Gaelen beating Agwaine by forty paces, the boys arriving home in ninth and tenth place.
Cambil had been furious. “He is faster, Father,” said Agwaine, toweling the sweat from his face. “There is nothing more to it.”
“You must work harder: drive yourself. You must not let him beat you ever again.”
Agwaine was stricken, and for the first time he saw his father in a fresh light. “I will work harder,” he said.
Layne and Gwalchmai delighted the younger clansmen by competing to the finals of their events, Layne in the spear tourney and Gwalchmai in the bow. Layne took third prize, beating the Loda champion into fourth place;
