said the sergeant, 'or you'll bleed to death.'
'What are our losses?'
'Eleven of our men and sixty of the outlaws dead or dying. The Vars lost one hundred and sixty-four men. The survivors fled to the east.'
Finnigal leaned against the side of the wagon. He saw Bane walk over and stand beside the body of a dead outlaw. 'Who was he?' called out Finnigal.
'His name was Grale,' said Bane. 'I almost killed him two years ago. A friend of mine told me he was once a hero – that he had fought bravely at Cogden Field.' Bane glanced across at the silent figure of Meria. 'He died for you, lady,' he said. 'I hope you have the grace to remember his name.'
From the hills to the west came the refugees from Three Streams. Vorna and a group of the women began to move among the wounded, tending them.
Bane called Gryffe and Valian to him, then he walked over to Finnigal. 'With your permission, Captain, I'll take some men and pursue the Vars, keep them on the move.'
Finnigal reached out and shook Bane's hand. 'I appreciate everything you've done. I never was in command, but I'll not forget your courtesy. Go on! Give chase. And then come back and we'll have a drink together… cousin.'
Chapter Thirteen
The gloomy predictions of Prasalis, of sixty outlaws 'dead or dying', would have been accurate but for the arrival of Vorna. Eighteen of the men with mortal wounds were brought back from the brink, as were three of the badly wounded Iron Wolves. There were no survivors among the Vars, for the outlaws moved among the wounded, killing all who still breathed. The folk of Three Streams stripped the dead of their weapons and armour, and, according to the orders of Finnigal, the forty-two outlaw dead were buried in a mass grave, the bodies of the Vars burnt on a massive funeral pyre. Bane and his twenty riders returned to the settlement at dusk, having hunted down the fleeing Vars, killing all but three who escaped into the woods to the west. Bane did not stay in Three Streams, but rode on back to his farm.
In her home Vorna dozed in her chair by the fire, dreaming of past days, when the sun seemed brighter, the world infinitely less perilous. Her husband, Banouin, was by her side, and they walked the hills close to the Wishing Tree woods. These were the days after she had brought Connavar back from the dead, after his fight with the bear; days when the lands of the Rigante were largely peaceful and good men like the mighty Ruathain, Banouin and the Long Laird seemed immortal, everlasting.
But nothing lasts, thought Vorna, coming out of her doze. Even the mountains will one day be gone, vanished under ice or swallowed into the depths of the ocean. She thought of the men she had healed today. Merging with them to mend their injuries she had touched their souls. Many among the outlaws were dark and twisted, and yet, on this day, a bright spark had flickered in them. She wondered if those sparks would catch, the light growing within them, or whether they would burn out quickly, leaving the men much as before.
There was, she knew, such a small distance for a man to walk between good and evil. Connavar the King was considered a good man, devoting his life to the welfare of all Keltoi on this side of the water. Yet once – blinded by rage and despair – he had ridden into a Pannone village, and butchered men, women and children. Sadness touched Vorna then and her eyes filled with tears.
'No point crying for what is already past,' she told herself.
There came a knock at the door. Vorna took a deep breath. She knew who had come to her house, and was not relishing the visit. 'Come in, Meria,' she called.
The king's mother moved hesitantly into the firelit room. In the gentle flickering light she looked younger, more like the woman Vorna had once known. But she is not that woman, Vorna reminded herself.
'I hope you do not mind me calling so late,' said Meria.
'What is it you want?' asked Vorna, keeping her voice neutral.
'I… wanted to thank you for saving my grandson.'
'Sit yourself,' said Vorna, knowing the answer was not the whole truth.
Meria removed her pale green and blue chequered cloak and sat down in the chair opposite. Folding the cloak carefully she rested it over her lap. 'I have been foolish, Vorna,' she said, not looking at the witch, but staring instead at the flames of the fire. 'In all my life I have only truly loved one man. My Varaconn.'
'But not Ruathain,' said Vorna harshly, 'who died for you?'
'No,' admitted Meria. 'Not Ru, who deserved better.' She gave a deep sigh. 'It is said that the people of Stone have three words for love. I do not know what they are, but Brother Solstice explained them to me once. There is love of family or friends, there is the fierce, protective love we have for our children, and there is the all-consuming erotic love, burning with the flames of devotion and adoration. It is perhaps wrong to say that I did not love Ru. For I loved him deeply as one would a big brother. But Varaconn was my love and my life. When he died a part of me – perhaps the best part of me – was laid to rest in the earth beside him.' The fire was burning low and Meria leaned down to add a log to the flames. 'I thought I had remembered his face, the contours, the smile. I had recalled him as looking like my Connavar, save that his hair and beard were golden. But I had not, Vorna. Over the years I had forgotten.'
'Then you saw Bane,' said Vorna.
'Aye, I saw Bane. And in him I saw Varaconn. It was as if he had stepped through a gate in time. Oh, Vorna! What have I done with my life?' Tears began to fall. 'I let my grandson die. I almost doomed the settlement. I have become a harridan, unloved by all. But worse, far worse, I turned my back on Connavar's only son.'
'Yes, you did these things,' said Vorna coldly, 'and they cannot be changed. All our deeds have consequences, and we must face them. You are now facing yours.'
Meria brushed away her tears. 'You are not making this easy for me, Vorna.'
'No, I am not.'
'Do you hate me so much?'
'I do not hate anyone,' Vorna told her. 'Once we were friends, and I treasure those memories. Now we are not. I can live with that. It interests me to know why you chose to end that friendship.'
'I was wrong to do so,' said Meria. 'It was weak of me, and petty. It happened after I learned of Ruathain's death at the Great Battle. Brother Solstice told me that Ru had a diseased heart, and that you had been tending him. He said that you had warned Ru not to fight. But I did not know of his condition. You recall my son's
'Of course. I prophesied it. He will die on the day he kills the dog that bites him.'
'Exactly. And Conn was bitten by a dog. The hound's teeth locked onto Conn's wrist guard and did not break the flesh. When I told Ru he said that this was not a true bite. I took no notice. I was so terrified that Conn would be killed in the following day's battle that I urged Ru to go with him, and defend him. I told him – may the gods forgive me – that he had once promised to defend Varaconn and had failed, and that he must not fail again.'
'And he did not fail,' said Vorna. 'He fought all day alongside Connavar. His heart only gave out after the battle. But why did this cause you to hate me?'
'I did not have the courage to blame myself for his death,' said Meria, 'so I convinced myself that had you told me of his condition I would never have sent him into battle. Thus his death became your fault, not mine. And then, when you befriended Bane, my hatred grew. I look back at what I have become and I am ashamed, Vorna.'
'Then change,' said Vorna, 'but know this, it is too late.'
'Too late? What do you mean?'
'It is too late for you to forge a relationship with Bane. He needed you as a babe, as a toddler, as a child. He does not need you now. Nor does he want you.'
'But you are his friend, Vorna. You could explain to him…'
'What would I explain to this twenty-year-old warrior who has grown to manhood despised and rejected by his family? He needs no explanations. He knows. He watched his mother die before her time, weighed down by the contempt of others who blamed her alone for Connavar's loss. Now he is a man, and through the disappointments of his childhood has no desire for familial affection. Your time to build a relationship with Bane has long gone. If you truly desire to change, then let that change show with those children who might yet benefit from it, your own
