Moving to the fire he sat down. His hands were trembling again now, following the shock of the fight, but this time he was not ashamed.
The bear had not robbed him of his courage, as he had feared.
He was alive. And he had conquered.
The euphoria did not last long. Conn sat at the fire and thought of the dead men behind him. He shivered and glanced back nervously. There they lay, terribly still. The tall man’s eyes were open, and seemed to be staring at him. Conn stood up and walked to where the men lay. One by one he pulled off their black cloaks and covered them. The cloaks were well made and embroidered at the centre with five interlocking silver circles. They made expensive shrouds.
The excitement and the fear gone now, Conn found himself slipping towards melancholy. The mood surprised him. Had he not killed three warriors? Did this not prove he was a man? He added fuel to the fire and wrapped himself in his cloak. An owl swooped over the hollow, then veered away. To the right a fox pushed its head from the undergrowth and stared at the man by the fire. It can smell the blood, thought Conn. They are not people any more. They are meat.
As one day you will be meat.
The thought was an unpleasant one.
‘A man should never be alone in victory,’ said the Morrigu. Conn jerked. She was sitting on the other side of the fire, a grey shawl over her skinny shoulders. A gaunt black crow glided down from the branches above, flapping its wings as it landed on the ground beside her. Conn reached inside his shirt, curling his fingers around the red opal Vorna had given him. The Morrigu laughed. ‘I did not come here to harm you, Sword in the Storm.’
‘Then why did you come?’
‘You interest me. Tell me, why did you kill those men?’
‘They murdered an old man and a child.’
‘Ah. A simple matter then. A crime followed by a just sentence. Suppose I were to tell you that the old man was a necromancer, who had killed many, and that the child was his familiar, a dark and demonic creature who devoured the souls of children? And that the men sent to apprehend him were heroes of the Gath? What then?’
‘They were not heroes,’ said Conn, though her words unsettled him.
‘How can you be sure?’
‘Heroes would not have raped the girl, and, if the man was a necromancer, why did he not use his powers against them?’
‘Perhaps they wore talismans like yours, and, as for the rape, you know better than any that a woman blessed with earth magic must never merge with a male. Perhaps they abused her to rob her of her magic.’
‘I do not believe it.’
‘I did not say it was true,’ the Morrigu pointed out. ‘But it could have been.’
‘What is it you want from me?’
‘I want for nothing, human. As I said, you interest me. I asked you once what you desired. You told me glory. You have tasted it. Was it to your liking?’
‘I think that you are evil,’ he told her. ‘I want no more to do with you.’
The Morrigu smiled. ‘I am beyond evil, child. Evil is a small creature, short lived and petty. Evil is like a plague. It comes, it hurts and it leaves. I am the Morrigu. I am always here. I am a giver. People come to me and ask me for presents. I give them what they ask for.’
‘You sent the bear to kill me.’
‘You wanted glory, Connavar. Your name is now known throughout Keltoi lands. You are a hero. Perhaps you should thank me. Ask me for something else. See how generous I am. Would you like to be a king?’
‘I want nothing more from you,’ he told her. ‘The bear was gift enough.’
‘Have your dreams become so small, Sword in the Storm? Where is the boy who yearned for fame?’
‘He grew up,’ snapped Conn. ‘Tell me, why did you rob Vorna of her powers?’