The Raven and the Redhead

[Salandis]

Raine hesitated. “Ah owe them that much.” He said, struggling to put into words what he felt. “Ta be excluded, ta be out on the moors wit’out a clan, is tae be without a purpose.” He paused a moment, the water from the river rushing to fill the silence as the last light faded from the sky.


“A man cannae live his life on his own, not an still call himself a man.” He said, his eyes on the newly borning stars, and his voice filled with a kind of yearning. “Ta have meaning in life, ya have to share it with others. And aye, they will curse me out of their home soon enough. But till then, I keep mae sworn word. I will be loyal to them, clan, heart, and shield. And aye, when time calls for bloodshed, I will fight for mae clan and win.”
 

He paused, and returned his eyes to the ethereal fae. “To do aught else, to leave the clans and stake my life alone in the wilderness… to do that, I would renounce my very humanity. And too often of late, I find that to be precious beyond words, beyond even honour.


Mayhap More now, tha I find I might lack it after all."

[ThisLittleBluebird]

"Not being human is not such a bad thing," Morgan stated, with a harsh cut of her eyes. Somehow it seemed she'd taken slight offense. But she continued, regardless. "Especially for those that were not to begin with. You are sworn to a people who you know will betray you, disgrace your reputation. Any honor you earn among them would be moot."

Morgan grabbed Raine by the arm, gently, but her claws dug in just a little, just enough to make evident that even the loveliest of wild roses still have thorns. She stared him down, needing to be heard. "And inhuman creatures are not without their own honor codes, you must learn that. Just because we are beyond your mortal frame of existing, does not mean that we are evil, not all of us. It does not mean we are without purpose. I am forest-born and forest-lived, but I have the most respectable honor of escorting the departed to their final resting place. It is upon my avenue that they find their peace. Perhaps you have a purpose beyond that which you can see in front of you, one that my foresight cannot comprehend- but it is destined for you nonetheless. Hear these words, I beseech you."

[Salandis]

If Raine noticed the sharpened grip, he gave no sign. But then, a sword stroke across his face had not even made him blink. Instead, he cocked his head to one side, slightly. A light of anger might have flared in his green eyes, but that too quickly faded.


“Aye, ye are not human, so perhaps you dunnae understand.” He said. “The honor I take from them is not at issue, aye. For sure as the sun rises, I fear they will cast me from them. Not at once, no, but soon. Be it openly, with iron and bronze, or with the muttered whispers and denunciation that eventually drive me to leave, Ah will go. But that is not the honor that matters, for you are right. That honor holds no meaning.


But the honor I keep is mae own. My oath to them matters.” His eyes took on a hard, dangerous light, and the air around him seemed to chill slightly. “Even if they break oath to me, understand me in this. Ah will not be forsworn. My word is mae bond, the most valuable thing I possess.”


The glimmer in his eyes faded, along with the cold, and his face smoothed out as his own emotions were turned back on themselves. He ducked his head apologetically. “Surely the children of Dana understand oaths, and why it is important to keep one’s own honor.” He sighed, and glanced out into the empty landscape.


“And ah have had little enough choice so far otherwise, lady. My options have always been to keep company with those that will eventually shun me, or live out on the moors on my own, and be alone with the cold for eternity. Ah had no notion that the children of Dana would have interest in a son of Mil, however unusual he might be.”


He again sought out the fair creature who graced his presence. “Perhaps, once my oath here is fulfilled one way or ‘tother, you can show me what other paths may exist for one such as me.”

[ThisLittleBluebird]

Morgan stared past the warrior, then, as if in great thought. "Ah, I understand now. Your honor belongs to yourself, and not to the earth, like a seed before it has been planted. It thinks itself solitary too, you know. Before it allows itself to succumb to the earth and let its roots interconnect with all over living things... But, it must do so in its own time- perhaps you are just in the winter of your life. One cannot force spring to come, or the plants to grow, can they? Not even a great witch such as myself. But, it could be coerced, if that is what you wish. As one without a coven, I too can understand your fear of isolation- though perhaps not share it."

[Salandis]

Raine’s eyes narrowed. He was sure the fae did not have a complete grasp, not yet, but… her response made sense also.



He sighed, and shrugged. Bending, he finished laying out the last of the rival clan. “Aye, perhaps.” He straightened up and stretched. “And perhaps soon.” A smile played about his lips. “Ah must say that the fear of being turned out from home and clan is lessened, after meeting yourself.” He swept Morgan a deep bow.



“But fer now, There is a last role tah play.” He started towards the docile cows, rounding up the ones that had stayed in sight. “On the morrow, there is like to be a battle. Aye, and tho it be the last one Ah fight for this clan, I mean it to be a great one!”

[ThisLittleBluebird]

Morgan grinned, a supernatural, vaguely malicious glint in her eyes. She rocked on her heels, giddy at his declaration, an odd gesture to be sure. But, if he meant to look twice, she was already gone, smoke swirling up the boughs of an old tree. She leaned down from it like a dryad, giggling. "Great indeed! Don't disappoint me."

The witch winked, and appeared to be gone for good this time. But, she lingered, just a moment among the leaves, a small, peering crow- to study the warrior a bit more.

[Salandis]

[This... this turned into a novel. omg. ;_; did not mean]

Raine drove the cows back into his clan village, using a switch he had picked along the way. His arrival, with no other guards and so long after dark, caused some consternation at the village gates. When the Torchlit square revealed the blood still splashed over his ripped tunic, it turned to outcry. By the time the cattle were safely in the pen, the clan had turned out… And the King and elders were in attendance.


“What has happened here?” Fionntán, king of the clan, got directly to the point. He was a broad shouldered, well-muscled man of his late twenties. Generally Raine thought well of him, and he often showed a quick wit. The tone of his question was very telling: He already knew what had to have happened. He was waiting to know how bad it may be.


“We were attacked returning from the far pasture.” Raine responded, wearily. He gave an account of the battle, from the surprise attack at the ford, to him and the remaining guards rallying. He left out quite how bad it had gotten, or that he had been left facing five on his own. And he had no intention of mentioning meeting a fae. “Ahn then, twas but me and one other of their ilk. And him wounded, with his strength ebbing out his side.” Raine showed a feral grin. “So rather than face me and die, he threw down his blade an’ ran like the cur he was.”


This was met with a steady growl of approval from the crowd, but Fionntán remained silent. It was one of the elders, Cairell, who spoke next, in a thin nasally voice. “So you return alone? How many of our cattle still wander the moors?” He gestured at the somewhat diminished herd. “And our clansman, our kinsman, you left to be picked over by the creatures of the night?” he whined, giving the much younger looking warrior a fierce glare.


There was an awkward silence, and Raine felt the weariness drag at his bones easing under the lash of flickering rage. The switch he still held in hand he dropped, as he strode across the square to meet the old man eye to eye. “Ah am but one man.” His voice cracked with fury, and Cairell quailed under it. “Would yah have me round up all the cattle, aye, and load yer kinsman on them? Take them from where they fell, defending their clans honour with their lives? Ah fought and killed today man. And watched those kinsmen die.” His glare swept across the square, before returning to pin the older man. “Ah layed them out, straight and proper.” Raine continued, fatigue beginning to return in his voice. “Aye, and even our foes. And then, without any light tah guide me, I rounded up as much of the cattle as ah could. What more can ya ask of any son of Mil?”


“But one of their raiders lived?” Fionntán cut in, then, and Cairell took that moment to scurry back. “They know, then, that they failed? That we can seek a reckoning?”


“Aye.” Raine responded. The young king did have his wits about him, after all. And indeed, he simply nodded himself, and turned back to the clan.


“They will come, then, on the morrow. Full in numbers, to attack us and redeem their failure. They must, for should they not we will be hunting them, and arriving at their gates ourselves.” His voice projected easily over the now silent square. “Every man of this clan, barring those at the gates, go now and rest. We will wake ‘fore the dawn, and gird ourselves for combat. We will be prepared, and they will face us for our honour and theirs.”

Without another word, the square began to empty. And Fionntán looked at Raine sternly. “You too. When morning comes, you will stand by me. Should they call a duel, you will be my armsman.” Raine bowed. That was a position given normally only to kinsman. “Do not see this as high honour.” Fionntán continued softly. “You are the cause of this, through no fault of your own. Ah will keep you close, for they may demand a reckoning… and ah will be there to enforce it, if it will save clan and honour both. Yeh have served this clan well, and tis poor reward, but I must see to the well-being of us all.”


Another flicker of fury crackled through Raines veins, but this time he again only nodded. Fionntán’s honour was his own, and his clan came about all else, especially an outsider. So he said nothing, only bowed again and left to his own small hut. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The morning burned bright and clear. Outside the village, the clan stood assembled. Each man was fed, wearing armour if they had it, and well-armed. They were assembled before the very river Raine had been ambushed at the day before, at a wider ford between plains downstream. A burial detail had already been sent to erect a proper cairn. As Raine himself stood next to King Fionntán, he wondered if Morgan da’Danaan was watching even now. A great battle indeed.

Across the river, their enemy approached. Somewhat greater in number, perhaps. And led by a great bull of a man, a full head higher than the others around him. As they approached the river, Raine noted he was in good armour of boiled leather, and hold a newer make of iron sword, long in reach and slung over his back.


His men were not so well attired. They, like Raines own clan-mates, were wearing tunics for the most part, and mostly shorter iron swords with darts. All of the clan came to a halt on their side of the river, outside of even the strongest throw of a dart. Their king, for that is who it had to be, continued forward to the rivers edge.


“RAINE BAEG’RUA’RIAN” He bellowed over the water, his tone turning the name itself into an insult. “YEH CALL THIS CLAN UNDER YER PROTECTION” He spat in the river, the swift current carrying it away in a flash. “AH CALL YEH SCUM. HAVE YEH THE STONES TAH COME AND FACE ME LIKE YAH DEMANDED?”


Behind him, his clan roared with jeering laughter, and the king added his own. Around Raine, all eyes of the clan turned to him. Raine looked to his king, who returned his gaze with a stunned look. Then Fionntán shook himself. “Weel. It seems they know who y’are.” He said dryly. “That bein’ the case, Ah think you should answer that challenge.”


Raine saw it all at once, from the side of his king. Raine was weary, likely not recovered from mortal combat the day before. And at the best of times, could not possibly be a match for a massive warrior such as that. Yet he was no kinsman, and should he die in the waters he would not provoke the outrage that would raise a full battle this day… and if he did die, the other clan may leave with its own honour assuaged. It was cold, and cynical, but that didn’t make it wrong either. His green eyes hardened. Behind him, he heard the hiss of a drawn blade.
And suddenly, he no longer cared. He would meet his word, and fight as demanded, and then he would be done of this man and his clan.

“Aye.” He said, his voice level. “Ah thing Ah best go and meet it.”


He turned his back on his king, and stepped out towards the ford. “Ah am Raine Rian!” he yelled over the water, drawing his sword and throwing his rounded shield aside. “Ah fought your pathetic excuse for a raid, aye, and killed those that did'nae run.” He strode out in the ford, the water rising to his thigh and racing around him in foamy white caps. “Yeh be a king of curs and whelps, not men. And even an old spinster would face the best of yeh laughin, worthless strips of callow wattle. And win, too, aye. So face me here, if you dare!”


“Oh Ah’ll face yer!” the bull necked man roared, piggish eyes glinting. “As you yerself called fer. With meself, and all my men. But for a tiny scrap of manhood such as yeh, I’ll take mah blade to yeh first.”


The long iron blade leapt into his hand as he strode out into the ford, and the cheers from both sides became a muted roar, melding with the river as the warriors met.

[ThisLittleBluebird]

At the first sounds of marching in the silent forest, Morgan sprinted through the trees, no more than a shadow, until she reached her desired viewpoint. The witch clung to a tree branch, much like she had when observing the warrior before, and her heart fluttered like a little dove in great anticipation of the battle. Tension had already fallen over the field... and though the other clan was large, their leader well-equipped, the witch knew her champion- /her/ champion? Could she even call him that? No, no... not until he proved himself- a warrior of interest, then. The warrior's supernatural ability would surely prevail, she predicted, and offered him no boon, nor the other side any curse, merely spectating as Raine proved himself (perhaps unknowingly) to her.

As the opposing clan's leader challenged the warrior, rather crudely, Morgan couldn't help but wonder the same. He /was/ rather short... But then, the battle started! The warrior took to the opposing king's challenge, and the line of men clashed together with a great din. Oh, how glorious! She couldn't help but grin, watching with such eagerness and anticipation as it played out.

[Salandis]

As the enemy chief’s sword struck Raine’s own, he felt a fatigue flee from his bones. The river no longer cold, but enervating. He felt the burdens of his mortal life lift from his bones, and felt himself grinning at his foe. Two more strikes, and he only blocked, letting his foe take the initiative without letting him come close to a strike. They faced each other as honorable foes in the ford, as old as history went in Ireland.

And that was when things began to fall apart. With a great roar, the opposing tribe raced forward into the river, around the ford in a mighty host.
Raine was shocked. All clans held single combat, honourable battles between two great warriors to be sacred. It was an unspoken law of warfare, sacrosanct through the ages. And this clan was ignoring it, rushing around the combatants to storm the surprised clan of Fionntán. Raines grin congealed, and the great bull-necked warrior across from him laughed.


“This clan be under your protection, son of Gréine?” He sneered. “Aye, our shaman heard my sons tale, and we spoke to the Cailleach. She told us what yeh were.”


Raine ducked another vicious sword stroke as the man continued.


“Yeh cannae be hurt by mortal weapons, aye” He said. “But yeh can only be in one place. So while I keep yeh here in the river, ma clan will wipe out you and yours.”


Raine blocked another strike. His ears were ringing oddly, and he felt hot all over. Flush with rage, he realized, as he had been only once before in his life. This man was taunting him with the lie of his humanity, and destroying all he had hoped to protect. The ring of steel behind him showed his clan engaged, but surprised. No clan with honor would have done this!


He blocked another sword strike, circling up in the current. His foe laughed as his silence, and continued to taunt him.
“Mortal weapons may not strike you, hey? But this blade was blessed by the Cailleach of my village, and sharpened with stones of the rivers gift. This blade will pierce your hide, and before your clan dies out they will see your head on my shield!”


He launched into a furious series of strikes, driving Raine back upstream towards the stone-laced edge of the ford. But Raine no longer heard him. The ringing in his ears drove out all other sound, and fire seemed to burn all over his body. Dimly, he could hear the battle all around him, and the enemy clan head’s taunting snarls. But deep inside he was being consumed by a fire that was also somehow ice.
 'A gift, or a curse’ Morgan’s words echoed in his mind. All his life he had treated his affliction as a curse, hiding it and living among other men. ‘a gift…’ What if it was a gift instead? What if he called upon it now, drew on it as he never had? His life with this clan was disappearing behind him like water into peat. He had nothing to lose now, but his own honour, to protect what was left of his ragged humanity by an oath sword to a man who would turn him from the fold…He blocked another strike, and another. Somewhere behind him, he heard his clan mates dying, being killed as he had been meant to die for them…


It all came together in a flash of clarity, and Raine let go his human tie to his clan, his human tie to his masquerade. A wordless, banshee howl burst from his lips, and he swung his sword with all his might at his foe.

The other man blocked, but Raine felt something, a surge of heat, pass down into his arm from the handle of his sword. The great chief across from him seemed to solidify, and when Raine spun and struck him again he simply shattered like spring ice, scattered into the water of the river, leaving behind naught but the iron sword that landed point down in the shingle.


A wave of silence seemed to ripple around him as other clansmen registered what they saw. Raines own eyes widened, but the rage-borne clarity would not let him go. He howled again, and ran over the water Not water now the river around me is ice! To the next soldier. The man stiffened up before Raine even reached him, and shattered under his sword. He scattered into pieces, flickering and dancing over the sheet of ice that once was a ford. Raine let out a third cry, and suddenly everyone was running from him. It didn’t seem to matter. Two more long strides, and he shattered another clansman like an old clay pot. More were fleeing, but some clansmen were stuck in the river that was, fighting to free themselves from the grip of the sudden sheet of ice. Raine whirled through them like the coming of winter, breaking those that could not flee into scattered gore on the rippled ice.

[ThisLittleBluebird]

Morgan couldn't believe her eyes- despite no meddling touch of hers, the other clan fought with the frenzy of savage wild beasts- ungraceful and without tact. It left a bad taste in her mouth. She sat up on her branch, swinging her legs over the edge anxiously as she observed, like a benign lesser god over his portion of the world- hers was war. Hey, at least she found boredom difficult to find, these days.

And then there was that /howl/- it made even her impervious skin shiver. And her bloodstained lips grinned from ear to ear as she leaned further over the branch to watch more keenly.

Brilliant! The fjord was freezing over, a maelstrom of frost and gore sweeping over the battlefield. Morgan had never seen anything quite like that, and was thrilled beyond compare. As the battle died down, she swooped down from her branch and floated over the ice in her raven-black frock, the only evidence that her feet met the ice at all was an ethereal chime each time she took a step. She circled he- /the/ warrior, fascinated. It was hard to conceal her exuberance.

"Well, /well/," Morgan mused, "isn't that quite... something, then? What's this? You're some petite jotunn from the north? No, no... not that... hmm- let me consider..." She tapped her finger to her jaw in taunting thought as she all-but-danced around him. She'd never quite looked so much like a faerie until she was lost in her game. "Ah! I know... A vodyanoy, no... they're just water spirits... Rusalka? That would be awkward. No... Nope! I /still/ don't know what you are..."

[Salandis]

Raine stood, breathing heavily. Yet strangely, not as heavily as he perhaps should be, for the exertion he had just been through.

Before him, the remnants of the rival clan fled. They would not dare the frozen ford, not with ice that formed to trap a man and a maniac destroying enemies with a sweep of bronze.


Behind him, the survivors of his own clan (Or should that be former clan?) huddled together, backing away from the battlefield. None approached him out here, on the ice. None dared. The berzerking madness ebbed within him, and as that red mist faded from his vision he became uncomfortably aware of something. He was warm under the suns light, feeling that welcoming heat for the first time in memory since he was a child. The sensation was both unsettling and pleasurable, but somehow he knew it was a sign that he was now vulnerable. The fear of his enemies was welcome, then, for should they attack now he would be defenseless.

A musical tinkling sound rang behind him. And then another, and another, and Morgan da Danann appeared in his view, almost dancing around him on the ice. Her words flowed around him, questioning and questing, and Raine found a realization there in the sun and on the ice and blood of his enemies.


His own kind treated him with fear, and suspicion. Would kill him, and had tried. But this fae, this woman, spoke of him with joy on her lips. Partly he knew that it was her nature – her home was here, on the battlefield. Part of it too, though, was that while she might not know what he was (And hardly alone in that) She did not care, either. And perhaps the battlefield, in its own way, was his home as well.


“I am but what you see, lady.” He said at last, and knelt there on the ice. Around him, he could see the river, irked at being dammed up, starting to flow over the top of the ice. In a day, two at most, this would be a normal ford again. Behind him, he knew, the clan would leave. His past with them left, his future still stretching ahead. “And as I seem to be free of my clan, I am free to offer my oath. If you would take it.”

[ThisLittleBluebird]

Morgan seemed a little taken aback as the warrior knelt before her. In fact, she was literally forced back, just a step, in her surprise. But then she grinned- and it was gone as quickly as it had come. She couldn't let herself seem so eager, so inexperienced in such traditional matters. It'd be a blemish on her reputation and as such she'd have less power over him.

She tilted up her chin and smiled just a little. "Oh? Well, Raine Baeg’Rua’Rian, what would you pledge?" Morgan's use of his name was intentional. It held weight, and magic, and prompted a serious connotation that should not be taken lightly. And that, she liked.

[Salandis]

Raine looked up, his hands still on his sword, pale sunlight still warming his face. “What I would pledge to any clan, Lady. Any worth their word, at least.”


He rested his head on the bronze hilt of his blade. “I pledge to be your true vassal, in heart and mind. To give you loyalty, to keep my honour, and hold my faith.”


He looked up, his eyes uncertain but strangely piercing. “Such oaths go both ways, Morgan. Among humans, ones liege rewards loyalty with loyalty, honour for honour… and punishment for oath breaking.”


He rested his head down on the crossguard of his claideamh again, silently marvelling that the bronze blade bore not a single new nick from a brutal combat.

“Would you take my oath? The world of humans has little left to offer, now.”

[ThisLittleBluebird]

"Aye," Morgan replied, "I accept your loyalty, your honor, your faith- and do intend to return it with my own."

Morgan reached down and slid her thin white hand up Raine's jaw, tilting his face back up to her, and lingered there a moment. Then, she curled in her pointer finger just enough that her long reddish-black talon pricked his skin. As the faintest bead of crimson welled up, she seemed to be satisfied-lip quirking into an odd little smirk- and pulled her hand away.

"Strange, how much you cling to your humanity even as you try to force it away. Among my kind we would call you a champion, not a vassal- but they are likely akin to one another. You made the right choice, you know, steering your fate this way. Should you remain honorable, you shall not regret it."

[Salandis]

Raine gave her something of an odd look, bring a hand up to wipe away the blood. "Aye. Ah cling ta mae Humanity because ah could all too easily become a monster." He looked around at the fjord, the frozen blood. And the only scratch he had taken was from Morgan.



Still, his voice didn't waver. "Ah Think I was afraid of this, becoming this. But it should'nae be feared, only used properly."


He turned his gaze back to Morgan. "So where too now, my Lady? Yeh have taken mae oath, and ah am now your vassal. Or Champion, aye. Still, it seems ta me we should be leaving this place. Even a perfect moment cannae last fer ever."