“Ceann!”
And even though Ceann mong Ruadh was alive in her own dimension, Samaire wept, mourning him, and commenced the keening in the manner of her people. Wulfhere turned, cast anxious looks about as if seeking escape. He’d had to give listen afore to the Eirrish mourn-keening; Samaire did it too well for his sensitive ears. Brian and Bas both looked as if they wanted to go to her; both looked at Cormac, with anxiousness on them.
The Gael said, “Weapon-companion!” and his voice was sharp.
Samaire stiffened and firmed her mouth. She stilled her laments for the Ceann of this dimension, a Ceann she had never known-and for that Ceann of the other plane, whom she’d never see again. And him waiting at Tara for their return with spoils to finance his plotting against his murderous brother!
“There is that which I must know,” Cormac said, “despite Samaire’s warning and my agreement. Thulsa Doom, blackhearted monster and my slave-answer. Am I welcome in this Eirrin, by the High-king on Tara Hill?”
The mage’s single word was the most awful and shattering he had uttered; the ugliest word in any language. “No.”
Then for a long while the ship scudded over the plain of the sea, and there were no words spoken aboard her. Only the sun smiled; only the waves rippling past the hull chuckled. Samaire turned her back, and began to weep, though quietly. Cormac merely stared at the decking beneath his feet. Brian managed to look anguished and angry all at once.
At last Cormac mac Art began to speak, in a low, disconsolate voice.
“I’ll not be asking if here I am trenfher na Eirrain, Champion of Eirrin, which I won by such great effort-in my own dimension from which ye’ve stolen me, scum of the ancient world! It’s for Eirrin we’re bound, and to Eirrin we go. Once again must I be someone else-and not my old ‘Partha mac Othna’ either, lest that name betray me. It’s directly to one of the Doorways to the Tuatha de Danann I must take Thulsa Doom.”
“Oh, Cormac!”
He nodded. “I know, dairlin girl-but it’s unwelcome in my own land I’ve been, for a dozen years of my life. Blows to the spirit I’ve taken before, as well. I shall abide; I shall survive. As to yourself-” He looked about at his little group of friends; weapon-companions, all. “Ye others can and will go to Tara. Wulfhere, ye can be taking Odin’s Eye, though it follows us with such docility. Though… once the High-king knows who ye be, Samaire, for your cousin Aine Cumalswife will recognize ye o’course, all will be well for ye. And for Bas, and Brian, aye and for Wulfhere, your friend from among the Danes who became friend of Eirrin by rescuing ye from the Norsemen, ye see!”
“In your company,” she said. “Aye. Mayhap then you too will be welcome at Tara Hill, my love.”
Cormac tightened his jaw and stiffened a bit, for she had not used those words to him afore, with others present. “Bas, of course, will… no mind. No matter. That be the way of it. It is what must be done.”
And again there was silence, for all knew he was right, and firm on it. Nor did any dare ask the enslaved mage where that other Cormac, that Cormac of this dimension was, or what he did. It was Wulfhere who broke the somber quiet that overshadowed them like brooding thunderclouds.
“Ye’ve taken leave of your senses, son of-Eirrin.”
Cormac swung to stare; all followed his gaze, looking at the giant Dane who stood astern with his fiery beard moving restlessly in the breeze.
“Blood-brother! I’ll not be going to the hall of Eirrin’s High-king, and I a Dane, in anyone’s company! Likely I’d never leave alive-and that means I’d be taking twenty or forty of Eirrin with me into death! Oh no, Wolf. Nor this time will I be taking a fine ship in quest of a crew-whilst ye go alone with… that, seeking a Doorway ye may not find, to people who may not exist, who may or may not be ruled by a woman!”
“Wulfhere-”
“Call me blood-brother!” Wulfhere snapped. “I go with you. This time aye, I will suffer these feet to tread the soil of your land. It was in a filthy prison we met, you and I, and we broke free together, and we took ship together, and we sailed together after. I owe you my life-and you owe me yours, for it’s more than once or even twice each of us had only just saved the other from ax or sword. But for you I’d have ridden a Valkyrie’s horse long ago.” Wulfhere stood solidly, stared and spoke stolidly. “We take Thulsa Doom to the Doorway, Cormac mac Art an cliuin-blood-brother!”
Cormac was obviously considering, though it was obvious there was nothing to be gained by raising argument. And true, in the decision he had announced, Cormac had felt much alone; egregiously alone. He knew loneliness, alone-ness well; he’d shared his life with it as other men with an ever-present dog. He could bear it. And… he’d be passing glad for the company of his longtime comrade.
“It is a matter of which Doorway we seek, then,” he said in a low voice, and they began to think and to discuss that problem, for Cathbadh had named them a choice of two locations.
The twin hills called the Breasts of Danu indeed resembled the mounded bosom of a woman reclining supine. They stretched long across the land but eighteen of the Roman miles northeast of the River Kenmare, which emptied into the sea down in the southwest of Eirrin. There they could go ashore, without danger of recognition.
The hill of Bri Leith was well north, sixty miles west of Tara Hill and south of Tailite. From Tara they must cross three rivers, the Boyne and the Deel and the Inny-and hills, and the bogs as well, or skirt them. It was Bas who then suggested that they could sail Quester down south of Eirrin, enter the Shannon and make their way up it to Lough Ree; thence up its length and onto the broad Shannon again, until they could make landing but a few miles east of Bri Leith and Long-ford.
Problems attended either choice. At last it was Cormac who decided. In manner most positive he stated what they would do. For gladness was on him to be positive about something, in this new life forced on him by a relentless enemy who hated him only for the man he’d been in a time incredibly long, long gone by.
“We will port at Balbriggan, but twenty or so miles from Tara. Ye others will go directly there, and to the home of your cousin Aine, Samaire. I and Wulfhere will skirt fair Tara, calling ourselves by other names-and taking Thulsa Doom to Long-ford, and the Doorway at Slieve Bri Leith.”
Fast on the heels of his words came another voice. “Release me, Cormac mac Art, release me now, and I renounce all vengeance on ye-and these your friends.”
Cormac stared at the death’s head, and he was tempted.
“Join me! Rule this world!”
“Thulsa Doom, no man but would be a fool to place faith in any such promise from you. And ye’ll not be ruling this world, mage. No. It’s no release ye’ll be having of me, whilst I live.”
Brian saw a matter for laughter, and seized on it, for in all wakes the time comes for gaiety. “Sure and it’s a sea of interesting looks ye three will be receiving, moving through our green Eirrin and one of ye with no face!”
Cormac showed him the pale reflection of a smile, and that seen dimly as in an old and filthy mirror of weathered bronze.
“No, Brian. For Thulsa Doom can be assuming any form he wishes-is it not true, mage?”
“Aye. The form of any person I have seen.”
Cormac nodded. “Then it’s a decent visage ye’ll wear in Meath of Eirrin, monster, not that hideous shining skull! It’s green your robe will be, and the symbols of Behl and Crom on ye-for I and Wulfhere will travel respectably, in company of what all will see as a druid!”
PART TWO