Traitor of Dún Baoiscne by Brian O'Sullivan

Author:Brian O'Sullivan [O'Sullivan, Brian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Historical Fiction
Publisher: Irish Imbas Books
Published: 2014-10-18T04:00:00+00:00

***

The Company reached the edge of the forest late the following morning. It was the wind that initially alerted them to its proximity. A heavy, shower-soaked gale had been blasting the land before dawn and although the thickness of the canopy spared the travellers from the worst of it, they could feel the gusts grow stronger as the vegetation dwindled and the forest thinned. Beneath their feet, the mossy, leaf-strewn surface progressively coarsened with increasing expanses of rock or stone.

They halted at the ragged treeline marking the start of the flatlands and there Liath Luachra awaited them, huddled in the shelter of a fallen tree with her grey cloak wrapped tight about her. The woman warrior watched the travellers arrive impassively, noting how most of them paused to stare towards the low mountains off to the west. She cast a curious glance at Fintán but the youth stood stiffly with the other warriors, glowering angrily and refusing to meet her eyes. His father, however, suffered from no such sensibilities. Accompanied by his conradh, he marched boldly up to the woman warrior. ‘Your report, Grey One?’

Annoyed by his presumption, Liath Luachra was tempted to ignore him but a warning shake of the head from Bodhmhall prompted her to rein her temper in. ‘We should keep moving.’ She could not help responding with more than her usual brusqueness. ‘Make as much distance as possible before dark.’

Marcán stared unhappily at the exposed terrain. ‘There will be little shelter against the gusts.’

The woman warrior laughed out loud at that. ‘Do Na Lamhraighe fear a shower and a stiff breeze?’ Her grin grew wider as Marcán bristled. The one-eyed warrior was surprisingly easy to bait.

Gleor intervened before the conversation could grow more volatile. ‘Calm, Marcán. I for one am satisfied with the fact that we can now, at least, see the mountains where An Bearna Garbh is situated. Is it far Grey One?’

‘A full day’s march. We’d be obliged to set camp on the flatlands but it’s not as barren as it appears. The terrain conceals wide dips and great depressions full of grass and scrub.’

Gleor continued to stare ahead in silence. ‘Very well. Let’s proceed without delay.’ He turned to his bodyguard. ‘Marcán, rouse the men. They sit too comfortably and we have a route to make.’

The older warrior reached up to pick at a loose piece of scab from the spot where his left eye should have been. With the other he subjected Liath Luachra to a heated if somewhat ineffective glare. ‘Very well,’ he muttered shortly and stalked off to where the warriors had settled.

The Company set off once more, wrapped in thick cloaks, hooded heads hunched resolutely against the force of the blustery showers. Shortly after leaving the forest behind, the rain mercifully weakened and, a little later, cleared altogether, although there was no respite from the wind.

At first, the travellers looked up occasionally, intrigued by the rocky environment so at odds with the topography to which they were accustomed. Soon

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