Prophet of Moonshae

' 'A farmer saw a maiden; he took her as his wife. She didn't know her pots and pans but surely liked her knife!' '

Tavish bounced through the chorus, the pain in her fingers forgotten.

' 'The maiden, she was willin', the menfolks she dismayed, for it was her taste for killin' to which this maiden made!' ' She sang heartily.

' 'The wedding night was cloudy as the couple rode away, and when they fin'ly found him, he was smilin' in the hay! His britches, they were missin', and his tunic and his bibs, but not his bride's stiletto: That was stickin' from his ribs!' '

Tavish played and sang more loudly, her pain forgotten. The music drowned out the noise of the pounding seas, ringing above the grunting and cursing of stone sore, staggering men. As the rude song unfolded, the bailers bent to their tasks with renewed energy, while the oarsmen labored to keep the stricken vessel nosed into the wind, grinning despite their weariness at the raunchy lyrics.

For a time, it seemed that new life had come to the Gullwing, and indeed the prow forced its way through the swells proudly once again. The song ran through many verses, for the maid had lived a long and productive life, and all through the choruses and notes, each time the sea swelled before them, the longship rose to meet each looming crest, foaming its way through the dark, frothing caps.

And when the song of Tavish finally faded away, the sound of the combers had changed, becoming deeper, somehow more substantial. In the bow, Alicia instinctively looked at Brandon and saw him listening carefully to the sound.

'That's surf pounding against the rocks,' he said after a moment. 'We'll make our landfall, perhaps more quickly than we desire.'

'Headlands!' The booming cry came from Knaff, who gripped the tiller firmly on the raised deck at the stern. The old man pointed over the bow. 'A rocky bluff, dead ahead!'

Brandon leaped upward, seizing the cracked remains of the figurehead and staring over the rolling swells into the mask of gray. 'Starboard helm!' he cried.

Immediately the Gullwing veered to the right. Then, with shocking quickness, Alicia saw a dark mass of rock looming high above them. Waves bashed against it, exploding in chill clouds of spray. In the gray mist, they hadn't see the menace until they were upon it.

'Row! Row for your lives!' cried the northman prince. The Gullwing leaped ahead, carving a sharp curve through the storm-tossed sea. Perhaps if she had been a whole ship, she would have made it.

As it was, the weight of the waterlogged bow, coupled with the drag of splintered planks, slowed her down just enough to doom her. A heaving swell raised them high into the air, and Alicia had a sickening image of a shore lined with massive, brutal rocks.

Then the longship crashed onto the boulders, and the sound of splintering wood and shouting men filled the air. Alicia felt herself tossed upward, and she tried to curl herself into a ball to lessen the inevitable shock of landing. Nevertheless, she crashed into a solid surface of stone with stunning force and lay motionless-still conscious, but unable to move. Icy water doused her, covering her completely as she feared that she would drown. Finally the brine receded, and she gasped and choked as it washed away.

All around her, Alicia heard cries of pain and the groans of the injured, even over the smashing of the waves and the splintering, tearing sounds of the Gullwing's destruction. Crying in agony, she tried to sit up, but collapsed after raising her head an inch off her rocky pillow. Explosions of pain whirled in crimson torture through her mind. She closed her eyes, but that only made the torment worse.

Then, where her body contacted the ground, she felt a strange thing, as if a soothing balm caressed her, washing away her pain. As she lay still, the feeling of warmth spread throughout her body, the rocky ground forming a soft and well-cushioned bed beneath her.

Finally she dared to look around, and her blurred vision slowly cleared. The princess couldn't locate any members of the crew, but she tried to convince herself that that didn't mean they had all perished. She had landed among huge boulders, and they blocked her view to either side.

By the time she had forced herself to a sitting position, relieved that she could do so without pain, several men came into view. Brandon led the group, and they cried out with relief when they saw her.

'Lady Princess!' gasped Brandon, his voice thick. 'By the gods, if you had been-'

'I'm not,' she said quickly, not wanting him to go on. 'Can you help me up? What about the others-Tavish, and Keane, and your crew?'

'Your companions survived,' Brandon said, assisting the woman to a grassy knoll above the reach of the waves where the ragged castaways had gathered.

In addition to the three Ffolk, only Yak had survived of the firbolgs, the one called Loinwrap drowning in the wreck. A dozen of Brandon's crew had also perished, leaving the prince with fewer than twoscore warriors. Many had suffered broken limbs or other injuries. Now the healthy members of the band tended the wounds of their comrades while Keane and Wultha went to make a reconnaissance of the area.

'We've landed at the right place, in any event,' announced Keane, upon their return. 'We found a village that was ransacked by horsemen. No one is alive there now, but the hoof-prints were still visible.'

'Going which way?' demanded Brandon, his hand instinctively seizing the hilt of his axe.

'Inland.'

'But how can we catch them now?' groaned the prince in sudden and complete dismay. Alicia had never heard him so disheartened. 'Even if they continued to follow the coast, without the Gullwing, we couldn't hope to pursue!'

'I know where they went,' Tavish said suddenly. 'And that dragon, too. It explains why it hasn't attacked us before!'

'Where?' demanded Alicia, Keane, and Brandon.

'The Moonwell-the Fairheight Moonwell! May the goddess forgive my ignorance, I should have seen it days ago!'

Tavish cried, shaking her head in frustration.

'Why would they go there?' demanded the Prince of Gnarhelm.

'The goddess!' Alicia exclaimed. 'The power of the Earthmother returns, and these knights go there to destroy the hope that was born!'

'I–I meant to speak of this earlier. Now I regret the fact that I didn't,' the bard stated with unaccustomed solemnity. 'But I've dreamed of the well each time I sleep these last few days. A power awakens there that offers tremendous hope for the isles, but it's a frail thing and menaced by great danger. I believe that it's imperative we go there, with all speed!'

'I remember your tale of this well, and your description of its location,' interjected Brandon, addressing Alicia. 'It's at least four days' march from here!'

'But less than that for horsemen or for a flying beast,' the mage observed grimly.

'Keane!' Alicia said suddenly. 'Do you have some way you could get us to that well quickly?'

'I wish, Princess, that I did,' replied the sorcerer with a shake of his head. 'I have a spell-teleportation-that will take me there in an instant. But it will not benefit anyone else.'

'Isn't there something you can do?' demanded the princess.

'As I said, I can go there myself,' he said curtly. 'And it may be that we have no other tactic available to us.'

'Not good enough,' grunted Brandon. He seemed to have shaken off his despair. Once again his voice was commanding and controlled. 'You have great power, but alone you could fall to a single arrow, or even a well- thrown rock. No, we must travel together.'

'Those who can march, at least,' Tavish noted, with a look at the dozen or so injured men who were having legs or arms splinted by their companions.

In another hour, a bedraggled band of castaways shivered under a steady rain. The injured had been moved to the village, quartered in as much comfort as possible. Finally those who could walk started across the lowland moor. In minutes, the buildings of the tiny community had vanished into squall and murk.

Surrounded by the storm, the companions marched on.