Fell said nothing, and transferred his gaze to the sleeping woman. ‘Aye, she’s a Highlander,’ he said, with pride. ‘But even that will not make men follow her.’
‘We will see,’ said Taliesen. ‘Now go to her cabin before the hunters reach it. Send the dwarf with weapons and clothes.’
‘You will stay with her?’
‘Indeed I will.’
Fell rose and swung his quiver over his shoulder, then gazed down at the unconscious Sigarni. ‘I will keep her warm,’ said Taliesen. ‘Oh, and I retrieved your bow.’ Lifting what Fell had believed to be a staff covered in sacking, Taliesen passed the weapon to the surprised forester.
‘You even kept it dry. My thanks to you, wizard. I feel a whole man again.’
Taliesen ignored him and turned to the sleeping Sigarni, taking her long, slim hand into his own.
Swirling his cloak around his shoulders, Fell stepped out into the rain-drenched night.
Sigarni stood silently by the grey cave wall and listened as Fell and the old man spoke. She could hear their words, see their faces, and even -though she knew not how – feel their emotions. Fell was frightened and yet trying to maintain an air of male confidence. The old man -Taliesen? – was tired, yet filled with a barely suppressed excitement. And lying by the fire, looking so sad and used, she could see herself, wrapped in the rapist’s red cloak, her face bruised and swollen. I am dying, she thought. My spirit has left my body and now only the Void awaits. There was no panic in her, no fear, only a sadness built of dreams never to be realized.
Fell took his bow from the old man and walked from the cave. Sigarni tried to call out to him but he did not hear her. No one could hear her, save maybe the dead.
But she was wrong. As soon as Fell walked out into the rain the old man looked up at her, his button-bright eyes focusing on her face. ‘Well, now we can talk,’ he said. ‘How are you feeling?’
Sigarni was both surprised and confused. The old man was holding the hand of her body, yet looking directly into the eyes of her spirit. It was disconcerting.
‘I feel… nothing,’ she said. ‘Is this what death is like?’
He gave a dry chuckle, like the whispering of the wind across dead leaves. ‘You are talking to a man who has fought back death for many centuries. I do not even wish to speculate on what death is like. Do you remember the waking of your spirit?’
‘Yes, someone called me, but when I opened my eyes he was not here. How is this happening, old one?’
‘I fear the answer may be too complicated for an untutored Highlander to understand. Essentially your body has been so brutalized that your mind has reeled from thoughts of it. You have entered a dream state which has freed your . .. soul, if you will. Now you feel no pain, no shame, no guilt. And while we talk your body is healing. I have, through my skill, increased the speed of the process. Even so, when you do return to the prison of flesh you will feel – shall we say – considerable discomfort.’
‘Do I know you?’ asked Sigarni.
‘Do you think that you do?’ he countered.
‘I can remember being held close to your chest. You have a small mole under the chin; I know this. And in looking at you I can see another man, enormously tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a buckskin shirt with a red wing-spread hawk silhouette upon the breast.’
Taliesen nodded. ‘Childhood memories. Yes, you know me, child. The other man was Caswallon. One day, if God is kind, you will meet him again.’
‘You both saved me from the demons – out there by the pool. Gwalchmai told me. Who are you, Taliesen? Why have you helped me?’
‘I am merely a man – a great man, mind! And my reasons for helping you are utterly selfish. But now is not the time to speak of things past. The days of magick and power are upon us, Sigarni, the days of blood and death are coming.’