The journey continued in this manner for another six hours, with many wishing to speak to Kenna which included some whom she had nary spoken to more than a few dozen words in the past nine years (or more). Her throat grew dry and weariness hardly affecting some, who now that they were wholly awake and seemingly out of danger, felt compelled to murmur their thanks for rescuing them from the fire, an act that only a few had seen. Yet they had informed all others who had once populated the whole of Glasvhail of her heroism.
The fact that the word 'heroism' had been attached to Kenna's name embarrassed her to no end, with the seamstress hardly appreciating the extent to which Ida took to teasing her about it. The other woman evidently found the whole notion funny, and was keen to alleviate her friend's brooding mood. Yet brood Kenna still did, for she was so very, very worried about what awaited them in the lands of the 'Hatchet-laird'.
It was towards the end of the day though, as the skies darkened once more overhead with the clouds gathering all about them that she discovered just how limited admiration could be. For it was just as some began to complain of how sore their feet were that Freygil proclaimed that they would continue, through the night.
"We are still within the domains of Badrách, and it would be wise to remember how vile he is," The fisherman reminded those behind him.
"But we are tired, and hungry," Some called out to him.
"I understand this, but we shan't stop quite yet, not for a while." He replied not unkindly to those all around him.
This proved to be a mistake, as many of those behind him sensing weakness persisted, with Elspet the daft widow all but leapt forward to counter his point. "Have ye no heart, Freygil? A touch more kindness cannot hurt you, for we are all cold and miserable, and hungry. What is more is that it appears as though it may rain soon, and would it not be wiser to find shelter soon and to cook what food we have?"
Freygil had no great desire to stop, not only because of how his wife had returned far ahead of their troupe amongst the shepherds and shepherdesses who could not simply stop and take their cattle off the roads. Her sons having taken up her tasks for a time, with the cattle sent on ahead in order to keep any of them from attempting to trail off as some of the sheep, cows and pigs had sought to do back in the fields of Thernhallow.
His hesitation and uncertainty though, served only to inspire anger in Salmon who walked but a little ahead of him, snapping over his shoulder at Elspet with a snarl. "Have ye not done enough, Elspet? Is leading our people to the flames not enough tragedy, for one lifetime? Would you seek to lead our people now to the blades of any local bandits who haunt these woods?"
The sharpness in his tone served to anger the woodcutter's widow, who glowered foul murder at him with Kenna deciding to add a further reprimand. "We shan't stop until we are in open fields, you would know this if you were to think for a single moment beyond the rumbling of your belly and if your mind was not numb, to the memories of what happened the previous time, you had command of the village."
The glare that the other woman threw in her direction, held such hatred that were she any other woman, or a less hardened one Kenna might have frozen in place. But between her stern exterior, the soreness of her feet and the cold wind on her face a part of her felt indifferent then, to the sentiments of those around her. In truth, she wished for little else but to stop, in order to rub her feet and start a fire to warm herself against. However, the promise of rain frightened her, due to the promise of the possible illness that it might bring on top of the coldness of night that loomed alongside it.
For these reasons, she cared not for the hate the other woman held for her from then on. As to the rest of those around her, who bemoaned this decision and complained at length alongside Elspet, about the council's decision, she tried to ignore them as best she could.
"But we are hungry," Cried one voice.
"And my feet are sore!"
"My son shan't walk anymore, and my arms grow weary from carrying him," Cried one last man in an accusing voice, as though his weariness and misery were somehow the newfound leaders of Glasvhail's faults.
This complaining might have continued, were it not for several villagers stopping, as they refused to continue on through the night as originally intended. They stated as they did so that they would not continue forward another step, with the leader of this disobedient group Ealar, the old rival of Kenna and the Salmon.
Once they saw a portion of those at the rear halt, those in the middle followed their example with Freygil, ever quick to give into the desires of the group initially pleading with them to continue before he at last conceded. Enraged, Kenna sought to remind all of those who had gone ahead to guide the cattle and to scout out the lands of Nordleia. "What of those such as Ida? Would you forsake them simply because of a little discomfort?"
"We are not all stone-hearted as you are," Elspet accused full of triumph now, along with the hatred that had been born hours ago and that had only grown in the hours that passed.
Exasperated by her constant barbs against her, Kenna fixed a stern glare upon her, not caring for how some were beginning to move away from the road to find themselves a place to stay to the left of the Thistle-Road. "Elspet think! If we are to move away from the road we must first inform Ida and the other shepherds and shepherdesses of this decision."
"We could send a volunteer, such as Freygil to warn them to look to their own needs and to wait for us later shortly before dawn." Doada answered simply joining Elspet in countering the suggestions of the seamstress.
"That seems a good compromise," Helga said keen to avoid conflict with the other faction, only to whither a little at the stern glance the seamstress cast upon her for this betrayal. Seeing the disapproval on her face, the daughter of Ainsley and Conn hurried to add, "It is just that my legs are sore and I am not so certain how much longer I could walk for."
"Do not blame her Kenna, for she speaks for a great many of us," Doada said with such smoothness that Kenna felt her heart harden all the more. She despised those who could speak in such honeyed tones. For they often in her experience, hid nefarious intentions or the utmost greed. "Even you must be tired and long for rest now."
"Regardless how weary we all are," Salmon interceded with a growl, "We have sent our cattle on ahead, and those guarding them are even more weary than us, and have no hope for shelter as those of us in the woods do. Would you create division where there is none, simply because of a few weary feet and rumbling bellies?"
The answer was that she indeed would. Insisting for another half-hour, with many of those from the rear now caught up to them, crossing their arms over their chests and swearing mighty oaths not to continue further, so that Freygil admitted defeat. Made to continue on ahead, he was joined by Salmon who would not stay, with those he claimed deserved their deaths if death was to indeed find them to-night.
Pleased to have rid themselves of the two men, who had become as mayors to the village, Ealar and Elspet directed all off the roads and some to cut down some of the nearby trees to make fires to warm their meals and people with. This last order alarmed Kenna, for she knew far too well that Badrách if he were to look for them, would notice the damage done to the forest at once and would guess where they had taken to.
What made the matter all the worst, was that Ainsley ordinarily a voice of reason appeared utterly convinced by the two fops. Saying as she followed them off the road with her youngest in her quivering arms, "This is for the best, Kenna. I am sure Badrách will not have heard of our traversing his lands, for he pays so little attention to the words of peasants, especially those in the fields."
"Bah, the first lesson my father taught me about war, was that those who underestimate others are always the first to perish." Kenna growled without thinking, making to follow after Salmon and Freygil who had departed whither to join Ida and the rest of the cattle-herders.
She was stopped by Helga who asked of her, having not yet departed with her mother as her good-brother had and most were doing. "Wait, where are you off to Kenna?"
The roundness of Helga's midnight onyx eyes, stared up at Kenna who replied at once, "To join the rest of those with good sense between their ears, lest I should be caught up in the folly of those who favoured the flames over life itself."
The cold wind did very little to ease her mood, nor did it appear to cool the mood of those around her who glowered resentfully. For they took her harshness to heart with their previous hero-worship dying little by little with every word she uttered and complaint she made against those they followed. They would likely have preferred it had she simply done as bidden, but that was never Kenna's way. No, the easy road had never truly appealed to her, not since she had been left all alone in Eachann's care.
Furious with them in return, for they had disappointed her more than once in the past day or so, until she had become all the more disillusioned towards them, than they were with her. The dark protective trees of finest birch, cedar, alder and ash-wood waved and appeared to moan with the wind a chill warning to her mind, of what awaited all in the dark of the woods. It appeared as though the tall monoliths built up by nature, warned all who came near them. 'I shan't protect thee from the dangers that chase after thou, therefore look to thy own devices for protection.' This visible warning and the lack of warmth to be found amongst the trees that the villagers took to noisily chopping down for fire-wood worsened the sense of doom that hung over Kenna then.
"But you shan't leave us," Helga pleaded in a whisper, as the seamstress cast a dark glance at those men who had moments ago complained of how little they could continue to do, only to take to the trees with their axes. Exerting themselves far more in the cutting of trees, for their campfires than if they had continued to walk along the Thistle-Road, though she saw this her new apprentice, paid it little mind. "Kenna, we need you to speak sense if Ealar or Elspet think of some fresh new madness to inflict upon us!"
"Beyond what they have done already, you mean." Kenna muttered with a significant glance all about them.
With a helpless look to her sister, Doada, Helga gave up the struggle, to keep her at their side. Doada though did not, and said to her, "Aye for without you, they will surely perish and you know that from the moment we left Glasvhail, you and the rest of those who argued to leave have taken up the role of village-council. If you leave us now, you will in effect be abandoning us to the proverbial wolves. Think at least of the children, of those too young to protect themselves and what should happen to them in the event of their parents' deaths."
The usage of her sense of responsibility and guilt should the worst truly happen, was not a trick that Kenna was blind to. And though she despised Elspet for using such a dirty tactic in this argument, she could not deny its efficacy. As the second of Conn's daughters spoke, Kenna could not help but think of what Badrách might do to the children, of how he might hoist their corpses upon spears or leave them to perish to the local brigands or wolves.
The images of those dark fates, resonating in her mind the seamstress reluctantly conceded if with ill-grace. Glaring foul murder at the second of Conn's daughters, whom she vowed to never again attempt to shield for using her sense of obligation against her, Kenna surrendered herself to the same fate as that of the followers of Elspet.
*****
The chopping of the trees and the starting of fires was not by far the most foolish misdeed that the followers of Ealar and Elspet did that night. Ere long they began an old farmer's song, one that Kenna had heard the shepherds and farmers and fishermen, all sing as they toiled. It was about old Cormac, and how he came to leave his father's work as a shepherd in favour of heroism. Of his falling in love with a great lady who was niece to Causantín II, and of how he sought to woo her with a great variety of gifts with increasingly foolish displays of his love, with the fugitives singing as they cooked the little meat and vegetables they had brought with them, in large pots they hung over the flames. They mixed some water from a fresh spring some of the men-folk had found in their exploration of the nearby area. Most of the fires were started near to the larger oaks that stood protectively over the rest of the forest, with the yokels counting upon them to shield them also from the impending storm.
The song began softly, but as they sang more people joined in, singing of the great folk-hero who had saved Caledonia from darkness and evil, and Giric the Usurper. Though this song had little to do with that particular event and was said to sing to a period in time that predated the wicked man's overthrow. The fact that the song was not entirely faithful, in some of the details, with Cormac having come of age later, shortly after Causantín and his elder cousin, Domnall's return from exile not a particular concern for those who sung this song.
Not entirely aware of this detail at that moment, Kenna with her back against a nearby grey oak, isolated from the rest of the encampment, preferring her own company to that of the rest of them. Unable to believe the folly of her fellows, she shivered having declined the warmth of a fire, and the company of even Helga, out of resentment for the lass' sister who stung, clung to her husband who reassured her quietly several trees away. Many in the forest were not discernable or within sight of one another, due to the lack of clearings with much of the underbrush, flora and trees persistently hiding them from one another.
The song echoed all throughout the corner of the forest nearest to the road, bouncing it seemed from oak to oak, as though the great grey trees were singing to one another. The quiet wind and loud drops of rain did little to discourage the song or to hide it. With the fires waxing, waning only to be fed more firewood, as the stars hid themselves from those who dotted the land and forests.
"In the King's great-tower,
Morven did flower,
To all men near and far,
She shone bright as a star,
Distant as a star she was,
Lofty and arrogant she was,
Lo! She swore to remain alone,
This left the old king aghast,
Days he ruminated,
Ere-long his spirit was elucidated,
With a bold scheme,
'She must be wed,'
In the King's great-tower,
Morven did flower,
To all men near and far,
She shone bright as a star,
But her father found her grim,
Thus he called for all men who be dim,
To come hither to make her laugh,
Jack thought to saw himself in half,
Jack was brought to grief,
Then came Tadg with pants made of leaves,
He was told promptly to leave,
Morven was by now red as a beet,
Thence came Cormac the Warrior,
He was a much greater oaf than warrior,
He fell over the wall's barrier,
And was chewed up by her terrier,
He plied his troth to her,
To fetch a Unicorn for her,
This she disbelieved,
With a hey and a ho, he left her,
Fortnight later he returned,
His belt nice and horned,
Face red as the Unicorn's glare,
For this he was deeply shamed,
Poor maid she never had a chance,
Thus she did dance,
With a great snigger that made her dance,
Her father now grew grim and said; 'not a chance'
In the King's great-tower,
Morven did flower,
To all men near and far,
She shone bright as a star."
The song had other parts, but the seamstress cared little for listening further to them. Preferring to eat the stew that Eillidh, the youngest of Ainsley's daughters brought her slowly, before she threw aside the now empty bowl it had been put in.
Certain she might not live to see the dawn; Kenna closed her eyes to go to sleep. Praying as she did that when death came, it would be swift and take place during her sleep. She likewise prayed that Ida, the Salmon and their kinsmen would survive where she had not, and that they would give up the stragglers for dead.
The bark against her back was almost warm, she thought as she drifted off to sleep. The cool breeze served to balance out her over-heated cheeks and was certainly nowhere near as icy as the droplets that began to fall from the heavens.
That night she did not dream of water; or of the heat of the flames of the temple of Fufluns in Glasvhail, but rather more strangely, of a long road and a lone figure departing on horse-back. His hunched back the last she had seen, of the man she had adored and had the utmost faith in despite the mercilessness and brutality of his sort of work…
*****
When next Kenna woke, it was to the screams of a great many people as a part of her remained for a few seconds trapped in the past, trailing down the road after her father. Groggy at the first, she soon came to full alertness if reluctantly so. The fires had long gone out; so that the moonlight was the only source of light available to those in the forest. Not that this was a very great help to them, with the only comfort being that the rain had since some time ago ceased. Curled up as she was against between the trunk of the tree behind her and one of its large roots, with her fur-cloak thrown about her shoulders, Kenna was hardly visible to those passing by where she had lain down to sleep.
The screams of the villagers as they raced along, northwards or deeper into the forest, pursued by a multitude of men wielding swords, hatchets and strangest of all to the minds of those fleeing; nets. The vast majority of whom, seemed more concerned with the capture of those they came across, than the outright slaughter of them.
As they raced along, there were orders barked from further past the encampment of peasants, a great leonine bellow, "Do not slaughter them, remember thy orders men! We are to detain, for they are to be made an example of by laird Badrách!"
Forgetting herself just as the rest of those around her did, Kenna lost herself then to the same fear that drove all those around her half-mad with mortal-terror. The sound of the dying screams of a handful of men and women, and the sight of naked steel wielded by muscled and armoured men only added to the fear that possessed her then.
She might well have been safer there. Hidden in the darkness, from the sight of all who crossed by her, racing after fleeing peasants or fleeing away from armoured butchers. Any rational person would have done well to do this. The trouble for Kenna lay in that within her, just as there is within us all, which includes you and I there exists an animal-side. One that when greeted by the sight of naked steel or iron, either resorts to bestial rage or the same terror that comes upon the deer or hare at the sight of an encroaching wolf.
Reason was impossible, as was proper sight as she put the great protective oak behind her, leaping over one of the large roots to her left. Realizing only when she had done so that she had until then been entirely unseen by the armoured men. The darkness of twilight in turn hid them, from her eyes so that all she thought was that they had to be led by Badrách's herald, Craig. How he had rounded dozens of men to strike the encampment so soon, was a mystery to Kenna who forgot this logistical problem in a matter of seconds.
Racing whither into the woods, after, alongside and behind others who fled in full terror of those in the middle of raiding their camp. The dark figures that moved after the peasants, did so with greater grace, speed and skill, as though they were wolves hunting clumsy ducks who had been startled before they could properly take flight.
Racing past a dozen trees ere she took any true notice of the trees that appeared almost to race past her. Their long alder branches reaching out for her, so that she had to throw up her hands to keep them from tangling with her hair, poke at her eyes and scratch at the white flesh of her face. The birch, cedar and oak arms were hardly any kinder, tangling themselves a little in the cloth of her dress' sleeves, or in the cloak she had worn below her fur one, tearing at it and the loose brooch she had pinned it together with.
Losing the brooch hardly affected her, not when the raising of her arms to fend off the attack by the trees and their probing branches slowing her, all she could think about. Hardly slowing her pace though, she threw herself forward with renewed fury. Heart in her throat at the thought of a steel sword or axe finding their way to her.
Her heart thundered as might a great she-bear when greeted by the sight of any who might foolishly dare to threaten her young. The pain that came from within her breast appeared in that instant in time, no less great than that inflicted upon her by the many branches that tore at her arms, hair and face. Or that she suffered the nigh on half score times she fell over due to the high-roots of the divers trees that surrounded her. Such was the intensity of the drum that hammered at her rib-cage that Kenna felt her vision further blinded by blurry tears of pain.
Racing past and ahead of her, were several dark figures not that this mattered to her irrational mind, the trees that separated her from them appeared dark as those hunting her. Her despair worsening with the notion that all that awaited her were more oaks, more alders and ash-trees and her desperate bid to avoid their arms and leaping over their over-large roots that sought seemingly to trip her.
The darkness of the night began to worsen, she saw though she paid this little mind, as she tore her way through the forest, in her fear forgetting as she did all sense of north, south, east or west. The clouds overhead gathering once more together, to shed their great quantity of rain-water that further muddied the ground upon which prey and predator struggled against.
This hardly seemed important for a few minutes, to Kenna who soon found her left boot caught in some mud near to a pine-tree. Startled, she near fell forward with a large cedar to her right and a bush of flora behind and before her, she was thus entrapped on all sides by trees and greenery. This darkened prison of nature's design and the muddied trap that she had trod into was one she did not truly think much upon for a few seconds. Only her trapped foot worried her, as those who had trailed behind her lay forgotten in the shadows of the forest and the trees she had just pushed herself past in her blind panic and need to escape her pursuers.
Kenna did not notice them until she had extracted at last her left foot, and felt a pair of hands reach out to grab her.
Stricken at the thought of one of those dark menacing predators having caught up with her, she wondered but for a brief heartbeat whether it was one of them or one of her fellow villagers. She had not long to wonder, as she was grabbed and thrown bodily aside.
Tossed to the right, Kenna struck the great oak with such force that her head bounced off of its trunk before she crashed to the ground at its 'feet'. Ears ringing and stars in her eyes with the muddied darkness below catching her. She was unconscious before she had so much as struck the ground, her mortal terror forgotten as comforting darkness welcomed her back into its waiting embrace.
All that rang in her ears ere she was knocked unconscious was the old song her father had once sung to her, ere he was going to battle and that her mother had also tended to sing at his every departure. It was a song she had not heard in years, for she had forsaken the singing of it after Murchadh had vanished, and yet she could still recognise every syllable and verse. All save the latter half of the song, which she had once known in girlhood but had forgotten over the years. That first verse though resounded in her ears, and was as a warm if menacing companion that came from seemingly nowhere.
The fact that the last sound she was to hear was not to be the ringing of her stricken ears, but that song, brought forth a smile to her lips. It was fitting, she felt for her last descent into darkness to involve the same song she had heard just before she was abandoned as a child.
"Hush, tush and do keep sleeping,
Dreams guarded by bucklers ever glimmering,
Thanks to blue steel glinting,
Our clan-banners shall always as the peaks be looming
High above the great mountain peaks,
The wind icy and cold shrieks,
As doves might the soaring eagles
Seek them highly whitened peaks,
To the green fields the sheep graze,
Lands that gleam bay to bay,
That the harvest never betrays,
Where the suns' always shine rays,
Emerald-hills betwixt field and hill,
By the Firth that batters the cliff,
Sgain shines atop its emerald-hill,
Exerting its kingly-will,
Hush, tush and do keep sleeping,
Dreams guarded by bucklers ever glimmering,
Thanks to blue steel glinting,
Our clan-banners shall always as the peaks be looming
To the west-bays in the islands,
Calling to the midlands as sirens,
Glittering as the Highlands,
Hereby the sea, suns rest on the horizons,
By the Wend that nourishes lambs and wolves,
Where strength still endures,
Mighty as those of yore-years Elves,
We clash by the shore as in the woods,
Hush, tush and do keep sleeping,
Dreams guarded by bucklers ever glimmering,
Thanks to blue steel glinting,
Our clan-banners shall always as the peaks be looming."
A groan escaped Kenna's lips some time later. Her ears still rang, her head throbbed all the more and her stomach churned so that though her eyes could nary see the light cast by the suns properly. She turned to her side a little to lose the supper she had eaten the night before. For some uncounted period of time, Kenna lay there, emptying the contents of her stomach against the nearby oak, crying in pain as she did so.
Kenna's vision still did not clear up, for a few minutes as she continued to vomit. Her stomach and legs tingled with the pain of this horrible experience, though this was as naught compared to the pain in her skull. Especially, where she had struck the tree, the right-side of her head, throbbed and screeched it seemed to her.
Lifting a hand to rub at the wound only worsened the sensation of pain that bit into her. Hissing Kenna took her time to regain her feet. Reaching out to the tree to lean upon it, as she struggled up with a hiss of pure agony, she felt her every muscle aching and her every limb crying out at her with every movement she undertook.
Heart hammering at her ribs once more, though with far less force than it had exerted previously. Kenna did not know how long she stood there, leaning against the tree, panting for breath and waiting for her skull and heart to stop throbbing.
Time stretched endlessly, and the world could well have ended for all she cared. All that mattered was cooling the great tearing pain in her head, as she uttered prayer after prayer to her chief deities of Khnum and Scota. The notion that her survival was miraculous was rather difficult to stomach, given the pain she was in.
Gingerly at first, there came a time when Kenna felt prepared to walk once more, cursing herself for having in her terror forgotten her walking-stick she almost moved to go back for it. Only to then realize with a start that she did not know where it could possibly be.
Lost in the woods was something that Kenna had only heard tales about, never truly experienced herself. Therefore to come to the realisation that she did not know where she was, or what to do when in this predicament terrified her almost as much as the one that she had found herself in a short-time ago.
Those who had hounded her the previous night were forgotten; the seamstress travelled the forest head throbbing with the force of a battering ram against castle-gates. Fearful and confused she moved through the woods in the same direction that she had run the prior night, unable to think of going in any other direction.
Her dedication to that route if in a slightly slower manner from then, made her feel old. Her bonnet had long since fallen, as had her cloaks so that she was left in her sleeve-torn brown dress which was the same one she had worn upon her previous journey north. Her pack had been sent north with the Salmon, for she had believed she would not survive. The one hundred silver thistle-coins were their last hope and she had no wish that they be lost. A part of her wondered as she brushed past tree branches, through the bushes of the forest if this was not a foolish mistake.
Wandering through the forest for hours, filled her not only with misery and pain, but also with memories of scolding Cormac for having wished to explore the Dyrkwoods as a child. He had been gripped by a maddening sense of curiosity about it, after he heard it was inhabited by fey, and she had told him if he got lost, he would never again be found.
Circling about a collection of trees Kenna had the impression that she was making no great progress. That she had simply been walking for hours past immense trees, past pines that poked and prodded at her, as they had during the chase by Badrách's men. Full of despair, the seamstress also felt tired of fighting her way through the hazy-pain of her head-ache.
Fighting herself an immense ash-tree, one with a trunk thrice the size of its neighbours. The branches of this mighty ash appeared to dip wearily with age along with the summit of the large tree. Of incomparable size and age, this great tree had seen ages Kenna could not possibly imagine, not that she thought much upon the history that this ash may have seen. This tree born possibly a millennia ago, near to the age of the Princeps of Roma. The great ancient city that had dominated South-Agenor along with a portion of North-Agenor had seen the rise of the Pechs. Of this accomplishment few trees could still boast, for not even the great oak of Ciaran had seen so much of Caledonia's history. The rise of Achaius, his heirs claiming of the throne that rival royal clans had sought to deny them, and unifying the two great nations of the north; that of the Pechs and of Ríocht-Riada.
All that Kenna saw at that moment was an unrivalled tree. It appeared prepared to teeter over just as she felt at that moment. By the gods, she thought to herself at that moment, mayhap she could lay there by this tree and they could teeter over into darkness as one. At that moment she felt about as old as the ash, and that if the end were to come for her, given the pain and misery she was in, along with the coldness that still permeated her bones and flesh after the rainfall the previous night, it would be a welcome thing.
It was as she sat there, the suns high in the sky and her headache receding little by little as she rested her feet that the song from the previous night came to her.
"Hush, tush and do keep sleeping,
Dreams guarded by bucklers ever glimmering,
Thanks to blue steel glinting,
Our clan-banners shall always as the peaks be looming
High above the great mountain peaks,
The wind icy and cold shrieks,
As doves might the soaring eagles
Seek them highly whitened peaks,
To the green fields the sheep graze,
Lands that gleam bay to bay,
That the harvest never betrays,
Where the suns' always shine rays,
Emerald-hills betwixt field and hill,
By the Firth that batters the cliff,
Sgain shines atop its emerald-hill,
Exerting its kingly-will,
Hush, tush and do keep sleeping,
Dreams guarded by bucklers ever glimmering,
Thanks to blue steel glinting,
Our clan-banners shall always as the peaks be looming
To the west-bays in the islands,
Calling to the midlands as sirens,
Glittering as the Highlands,
Hereby the sea, suns rest on the horizons,
By the Wend that nourishes lambs and wolves,
Where strength still endures,
Mighty as those of yore-years Elves,
We clash by the shore as in the woods,
Hush, tush and do keep sleeping,
Dreams guarded by bucklers ever glimmering,
Thanks to blue steel glinting,
Our clan-banners shall always as the peaks be looming."
It was a song that she knew better than her own name, though the second verse still escaped her. Mayhap, in death she would request her mother to sing that part to her. The thought of dying was not all that frightening though she would have preferred it had she had the chance to see her son one last time.
This brought to mind the song of the second Cormac, which she had sung countless times during the time she had carried Cormac within her. The hero the inspiration for the naming of her beloved if simple-minded son, she imagined countless parents had dubbed their sons by the hero's name.
Though I have only seen a handful of Cormacs in my time, especially since Siomon and Mael-Martin are now more popular amongst people. She thought to herself gazing up at the heavens, recalling how Daegan would sing of the Thistle-King. Typically of his love-story, though at that moment Kenna thought back not to that great High-King's encounter with Marthe, the Princess of Gallia but to his going into Castle-Geamdubh. This against the counsel of his wife, of many of his followers, for they knew that doom would find him within that keep.
The song came to her rather vividly though it had been years since she had last heard it.
"O Siomon was a good king,
Between his blood most sovereign and valour
The minstrels, of him they still sing,
The rightful High-King of fair Caledonia,
King of all from yon Highlands,
He oft-rode out as King of yon Lowlands,
To those west-islands,
Thereon he was known as High-King of all lands,
Thus, on Yule lighted low on yon hills,
And he was aware of Bhalkelds' kills,
As the weeping widow did many a-tomb fills,
Voice thick with grief she trills,
'What tidings, what tidings, poor waif, he says,
'What tidings of sorrow hast thou to tell me?'
'What tidings, what tidings, poor waif, he says,
'What tidings can ye tell in this east country,
'As a storm did the foul laird sweep
O'er those lands near to thy east-keep,
As a wolf through a herd of sheep,
Did he send the women of the east to weep,'
Said she, shoulders a-quiver by yon hill,
There is hundred Bhalkeldmen that wish to kill
And they are seeking for ye good King of this hill,
Spake she, her voice shrill,
O Siomon was a good king,
Between his blood most sovereign and valour
Quo the minstrels, of him they still sing,
The rightful High-King of fair Caledonia,
He returned home for Yule,
Long did he hitherto rule,
Queen Lily bedecked with many a-jewel,
She addressed him obstinate as a mule,
'What tidings, what tidings, she says,
'What tidings of sorrow hast thou to tell me?'
'What tidings, what tidings, she says,
'What tidings can ye tell of the east country?
Against her pleas Siomon went whither,
To meet with Bhalkeld in his house thither,
By the sea the Thistle-King dressed in silver
Bhalkeld o'er to him did slither,
'Come here, come here, now good Siomon,
This is the day that die man,'
Uttered Bhalkeld the black-hearted man,
Wherefore he knifed Siomon,
The King's goodwife had an auld guard-man,
By good Siomon he stiffly stood,
They two fought a hundred men,
'Till the whole of the palace was dyed in blood,
The King was to be hung high,
Upon the gates of Bhalkeld the sly,
Marthe good-Queen did cry,
As did the whole of the Caledonii."
The song came to an end; it was one that she had heard as a little lass, sung to her by master Eachann, now that she thought of it. It had been part of a ballad he had claimed, the ballad was called the 'Fall of Kings' and had verses regarding the death of all those High-Kings that had come before Mael-Martin II. A king whom had songs of his own, though none of them were at all sorrowful for him, but full of sorrowing for his subjects and victims, for he was the most violent of the MacCináed monarchs who had reigned since the death of Cináed.
Maybe, Kenna mused with her eyes closed to the sunny, clear heavens she would sing that song with her last breath. If her parched throat did not give out, ere that time came.
Her eyes closed, to the warm breeze that flowed through the forest. Hardly pondering about the attackers that had broken up the camp, or the fact that she had not seen anyone in all the hours she had been awake for. The reason why, did not appear at all relevant to her, nor did she try to summon up the energy to do much more than pray for those captured. She imagined that Badrách hardly had any good intentions in mind for those he had seized.
It was as she drifted away, her head no longer throbbing and the warmth of the suns warming the forest that she heard every sound it seemed. From that of the birds that flew or roosted overhead, in the branches of the local pines, the high-oaks and the great ash she rested beneath. To the sound of the wind as it traversed the north-woods, to the rustle of each bush and branch as they drifted and rubbed together in the wind.
These sounds were opposed by the sudden sound of a great many voices, the crunch of dozens of feet upon tree-branches and dogs barking madly as though possessed. The great bellow of these sounds filled the whole of the forest, not that Kenna paid much heed to them then. She had failed her people, had gotten lost in the woods and knew down to her bones that those in command of those dogs, had to be those Badrách had sent after her and her people.