Chapter Twenty-Eight

“I say we should go back. Today—before the weather worsens and while we stand the best chance of reclaiming our land.”

Tally’s voice still sounded like that of a mere boy, but Barta had to admit he looked far more. A new strength had come upon her young brother and enfolded him like an invisible cloak.

He would need all his strength, she acknowledged, facing off against a scowling Brude in the morning light. Brude, too, appeared to have aged, the weight of his new responsibilities scoring lines into his forehead.

They stood in two decided factions, facing each other: Brude’s supporters and Tally’s. The tribe, as Barta had feared, was very nearly sundered in two, the last thing her father would have wanted and the last thing they needed now, when they were so few in number.

Brude, with his height and bulk of muscle, might make two of Tally, yet the boy stood straight as a spear and looked the other man in the eyes, awaiting his response.

Brude, in the past always quick to speak his mind, seemed to weigh his words before delivering them, standing with Avinda at his side and a number of the young warriors at his back.

“We will not make a challenge this season. Mayhap in the spring.”

“Says who?” Tally challenged.

“Says I,” Brude told him sourly.

“But you are not chief of this tribe. Not rightful chief,” Tally returned swiftly. “You stepped into the place merely because there was no one else. The rightful chief should be Wick, or failing him, me. Failing me, my sister’s son.”

“Your brother, whelp, has scuttled away, and your sister has no son. As for you—you are but a pup.”

Tally’s chin lifted still further. “One with a chief’s blood in his veins.”

Barta exchanged a look with True, with whom she stood shoulder to shoulder, their fingers linked. Nearly a fortnight had passed since the evening he’d agreed to make love to her, and they’d scarcely been apart. The deep wound in her heart, so she believed, had nearly closed beneath the balm of his presence and love.

She glanced at the others who stood with them while they waited for Brude’s reply: Gant just behind her, stolid and sure; Gede behind him, Rekka and her friends at Tally’s side.

Barta recognized that deep ties had also developed between Rekka and Tally. Had they already lain together? Yet her brother had barely fifteen winters.

And had been forced to grow up overnight. Her fingers twitched in True’s. Who was she to question?

True caressed her fingers comfortingly. She steadied where she stood.

“Our past,” Brude told Tally and the listening crowd, “has been swept away. I say the man best fit to lead must step into the place. And I am best fit to lead.”

“Are you?” Tally challenged. “Are you indeed? I say that is for the tribe as a whole to decide.”

“Yet, whelp, the tribe is no longer whole. You have managed to break it apart with your interfering. Now you would take a broken tribe to challenge the Gaels who may well be dug in back there, even as we are here.”

Pith stepped forward from behind Tally. “I am the oldest of us left alive,” he declared in his quavering voice, “and I have consulted with the gods on this matter. You can see where I stand—with Radoc’s family. The rest of you must make your own choices.”

The crowd buzzed as people muttered to one another. Brude’s dark eyes narrowed abruptly.

“Why, old man? Why do you wish to go back there and die?”

“And who are you, Brude map Edder, to question my ties to our land or my loyalty?”

Brude drew himself up indignantly even as Avinda shot him a look. “I question nothing. But land is land, and life is life. You all know me—I am the last to run. Yet winter is upon us. I say we gather our strength and hit the Gaels in the spring.”

“Winter is the secret season,” Tally declared, sounding so much like his mother Barta had to close her eyes a moment against a rush of memory and pain. “It is time for us who know this land to act. The Gaels will try and hold what they have stolen, yes. They will dig in and set a stout guard. But as we know from past experience, they will halt their battling—which is exactly why we should not. A series of hit-and-run raids, carried out mostly at night, with the forest to shield us—that is how we will defeat them.”

More murmuring, a rising current this time. Folk put their heads together even while Brude sneered. “Yes—because the last of our night-time raids worked so well, that your sister launched—that which began all this hurt and misery.”

Ah, thought Barta, was she never to live that down, even though she’d paid such a high price, her life shaken to its very roots?

True squeezed her fingers again as if he sensed her spike of agitation.

Tally refused to rise to Brude’s jibe. “My sister carries my father’s courage. That is why I propose she should act as head of our tribal war council.”

He got no farther. Even as Barta stiffened in shock, Brude lost the last of his stern self-control and bellowed, “Her? To lead us? Into disaster and more death, say I!”

“You may say what you will, Brude map Edder. I do not suggest my sister for war chief but as leader of a group that will include you and many others, to make decisions jointly.”

“You expect me to take advice from that traitorous vixen? I would sooner crawl into my own grave.”

“Now who threatens to sunder us?” Tally retorted. “We must all—all—work together if we are to succeed. If we keep retreating—”

“As your brother has?” Brude sneered. “Why do you not accuse him of cowardice, rather than me?”

“I do not accuse you of cowardice, Brude map Edder. Far from it. That is why I want you on my side. My brother, Wick, will find his heart and return. Master Pith and I have both Seen it. Meanwhile, Radoc’s house still stands. I am here to tell you so.”

Pride flooded Barta’s heart. Tally indeed embodied the best of both their parents.

She stepped forward, pulling her fingers from True’s. “And I.”

“I.” Gant moved to her shoulder.

“I.” Gede with a grunt.

“And I.” Now Pith’s voice did not quaver.

Brude stood confounded, his face thunderous.

Quietly, Tally spoke to the tribe’s folk rather than Brude. “Go you off and consider on this thing. Consult with your gods, your hearts, and one another. We will meet here again at nightfall, and you will give me—and Brude—your decisions.”

The crowd moved off slowly, Brude one of the last to leave, an ugly look in his eyes.

****

“Do you truly believe Wick will return?” Barta asked her brother hopefully.

True, who sat beside her, glanced into her face. They and several others had gathered around a small fire that did little to battle the chill. True could not see the position of the sun—low cloud cover prevented it—but he guessed sunset could not be far off.

Last night the first snowflakes had fallen. Had that been what prompted Tally’s bold stand, a prick from the spear of winter?

And was Tally right, calling for a return to their old lands, an attempt to reclaim them? True wished he knew, wished he could look ahead and see what would happen, how long the Lady would allow him to stay.

As if she felt his agitation, Barta slid her hand over his knee just the way she used to caress his head when he was a hound.

“I told Brude no lie,” Tally replied softly. “I have Seen it.”

“And do you supposed Brude will join with us if the tribe decides to go back?” Barta pressed. “Tally, you should not have placed me at the head of a war council. Brude will never agree to take orders from me. And we need his spear.”

“Then, Sister, you must find a way to get along with him. Trot out some of Mother’s tact, if you can.”

Gant smothered a laugh. “Tact? Barta? Tally, are you sure your wits have all returned to you?”

They all laughed but uneasily.

Rekka spoke up then. “I am proud of Tally.”

“And I.”

“I.”

“I.”

The avowals traveled around the fire, swift and fervent. Barta and Tally exchanged a heartfelt glance; it should have been a good moment, but for an instant foreboding gripped True’s heart. Just as if he had suddenly been granted the ability he’d wished for, to see ahead, he knew the tribe would decide to stand behind Tally, that they would be called upon to fight.

They would make a journey into darkness.

There beside the quiet fire, he caught his breath, knowing he would travel even into that darkness, so long as it be at Barta’s side.