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<title>Spellbinder - Chapter </title>
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<h1>29</h1><p>The warrior woman raised one arm with such power that Connor came swinging right over the edge of the abyss and landed with a groan. He rolled over, untangled his leg from the rope, and gingerly got to his feet, face creased with pain.</p>
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<p>When he struggled upright he saw the red-haired woman for the first time. </p>
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<p>"Thanks," he mumbled.</p>
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<p>"Thank your friend here," she said. "He saved your life, more than once."</p>
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<p>"I got lucky," Jack said. "I was nearest to the rope."</p>
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<p>"Well, but for you I'd still be falling," Connor said. "That hole goes down a long way. </p>
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<p>He took a tentative step, more a limp than a step, and his joints creaked alarmingly. Then looked again at Jack.</p>
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<p>"Have you shrunk?"</p>
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<p>Jack stared back in amazement. "You've grown!"</p>
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<p>They both looked down at Connor's bad leg. It was now completely straight, and it was the same length as the other one.</p>
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<p>"It's a miracle," Connor said. He raised his leg a few times, checking to see if it was real.</p>
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<p>He turned to Corriwen who was helping Kerry to his feet.</p>
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<p>"I thought I was dead for sure, and when I reached the end of the rope, I thought it would pull my leg off. But it's gone and straightened me out. Look at me!"</p>
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<p>He took another step, a painful one, but as he did, his smile lit his face. His tangled mat of hair had been smoothed out by the seawater and he looked completely different from the crippled ragamuffin she had rescued in the forest. The gold torc on his neck gave him an oddly noble look.</p>
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<p>"Your friend's gallantry saved you all," the woman said. "Him you must thank for your welcome on my island."</p>
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<p>She bent towards Jack and clasped him on the shoulders with both hands, leaned forward and fixed him with those startling eyes. For the first time he noticed she was bristling with weapons of all kinds, in sheaths and quivers all over a scaled tunic. </p>
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<p>"Your heart is straight and true. I am Hedda. They call me The Scatha, which means warrior-woman. You and yours are welcome ever to my home."</p>
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<p class='break'>* * *</p>
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<p>She led them along a winding path so narrow they had to walk in single file. </p>
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<p>Wherever they were going, Jack thought, the place was impregnable. The only way to get here was by leaping over the crevasse, and only Rune's boots had enabled Jack and Kerry to risk it with any confidence. The twists and turns in the path cut in the rock would have made this place impossible to attack. One person could hold off an army, and he had no doubt that this fierce, handsome woman would have no difficulty in doing just that.</p>
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<p>They followed behind her until the path stopped abruptly at a cliff wall that soared above them towards the clouds. Whorls and patterns, very similar to the tattoos that adorned Hedda, were carved in the face. She touched one of the carvings and a stone door opened inwards. She ushered them into a cavernous room lit by torches and heated by a roaring fire. Somewhere in the distance, a low, regular booming shivered up through the stone floor. </p>
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<p>They stood, all four of them gawping at the array of weapons studding every inch of the walls; daggers, spears, bows, harpoons, swords of all shapes and some weapons Jack had never seen before, even in books. </p>
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<p>All except one great sword which caught his complete attention. None of his friends saw him go still as stone.</p>
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<p>Their eyes were fixed above the row of shields which formed a continuous frieze.</p>
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<p>Hundreds of skulls were pinned to the walls, crowding right up to the ceiling, strange white skulls with dagger-like teeth and weird bony crests.</p>
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<p>"The Fir Bolg," Hedda said. "The sea people of old who made war on men in Eirinn. They sacrificed a thousand good men to their demons and put their bodies in the bogs where their souls lie cold and restless. In one day, I took two heads for every one they slaughtered. And then we went to war on them and drove them back into the sea. A few escaped to the mountains and became the fell runners."</p>
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<p>"We came across them in the hills," Connor said. "Ugly things. All ribs and teeth."</p>
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<p>The woman looked at him then cocked her head as she scanned his face, inspecting him closely. He'd tied his hair into two braids to keep it out of his eyes. Jack thought he looked like a young Viking chief.</p>
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<p>Without warning, her hand shot out and Connor flinched, but not quickly enough. Her fingers snatched the tattered tunic and pulled him towards her, hauling him up on tip-toe. Her free hand raised the brass pin-brooch that held the rag in place.</p>
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<p>"Where did you find this?" she asked. </p>
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<p>"Always had it," he replied. "Since I was little. It was my mam's. It's mine now since she's dead."</p>
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<p>"Your mother." She held him close. "What was her name?"</p>
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<p>"Don't know. Nobody knew. She died of cold and drowning. But my Ma and Da, my foster parents, say she pinned me on her shoulder with this so I wouldn't drown. All they got out of her was my name, before she breathed her last."</p>
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<p>Hedda slowly unclasped her fingers and let Connor sag back.</p>
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<p>"Omens," she said, almost a whisper. "We are at a crossing of the ways. Strange things indeed come to pass."</p>
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<p>"You're not kidding," Kerry muttered. "And all I wanted was a quiet life."</p>
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<p>Jack elbowed his ribs. The great sword on the wall had sent a tremor through him. He sensed something important was happening. He too felt as if he was at some sort of crossroads now, about to take a step that would change his life. It seemed she had plucked the thought right out of his mind.</p>
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<p>"Runes don't lie," she said softly. She beckoned them across the room to a massive table beside the fire.</p>
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<p>"Sit. We will eat tell each other tales of the past and consider what is to come."</p>
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<p>She tugged a cord on the wall and sat down on a carved chair, then poured out five goblets of amber liquid and passed them round. The first sip was heady and sweet, and Jack felt its warmth creep inside him, heating him to the core.</p>
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<p>He closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion of their climb drain away when a huge hand clapped him on the shoulder. He opened his eyes and saw big face smiling down at him. For an instant he thought it was Finn MacCuill, until he realised it was another woman, and one almost as tall as the giant who had forced up the causeway and sacrificed himself so they could escape.</p>
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<p>"Eat first," she boomed. She ruffled his hair with a meaty hand and Jack thought his head was going to spin off. "You can sleep later."</p>
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<p>He glanced at the table and realised he must have dozed off for several minutes, for it was laden with platters of food in such quantity that it looked like a king's banquet. Kerry and Connor were stuffing themselves. As soon as the smell of hot food hit him, Jack realised he was absolutely famished.</p>
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<p>The giantess sat herself down on a bench at the far end of the table and helped herself to a side of crisp bacon which she ate heartily with her huge fingers, and quaffed from a bucket as if it was a delicate tumbler.</p>
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<p>"This is Fennel," Hedda said. "My armourer."</p>
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<p>The giantess chuckled. The walls seemed to shiver. "Armourer, cook. Housekeeper. Sweeper-up-afterwards. A woman's work is never done."</p>
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<p>"But the best armourer in all of Eirinn. I suspect we will need all of her skill."</p>
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<p>"How do you mean?" Jack asked.</p>
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<p>"Because if you are here, as the runes foretold, a battle looms."</p>
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<p>"Not again," Kerry mumbled through a mouthful. "Can't a guy get a break?"</p>
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<p>"Men rarely challenge me," Hedda said. "Most quail at the crevasse leap. Some brave it. Most die. That is the way of the Scatha. Who fights and lives for one hour, whose hearts are good, I welcome and teach, as I will teach you.</p>
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<p>She clapped Kerry on the shoulder. "As they say in Eirinn, our songs may be sad, but all our fights are happy. There has been little song in Eirinn these past years, and now it is time to fight.</p>
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<p>"Fingal's runes told me that four would come. Two travellers and a lord and a lady, come to me to aid Eirinn."</p>
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<p>"Well," Kerry said. "They got it half right. This is Lady Corriwen Redthorn, of Temair."</p>
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<p>Connor turned to Jack. "I never knew you were a lord."</p>
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<p>"I'm not," Jack said. </p>
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<p>Hedda rapped her knuckles softly on the table, enough to command silence.</p>
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<p>"Listen to my story," she said. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts, then she spoke again.</p>
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<p>"Men come here to challenge the Scatha, to gain honour or knowledge. Always the kings of the Westlands met me across the crevasse and were strong and brave enough to live the hour, and I taught them the ways of battle, for they were ever good and fair.</p>
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<p>"So I taught Conovar, though he had known peace for a long time. Rarely I leave this island, but for his crowning I travelled and met his Queen Eleon. And I met Dermott and the false Fainn. Then Conovar took deathly ill, after his son was born and Dermott wrested the throne from Eleon, who threw herself into the sea when Dermott in his rage took the infant by the leg and cast him out."</p>
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<p>Hedda bent to Connor and unclasped the brass pin-brooch. She held it up for them to see, small and round, with five little stars cut into its face.</p>
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<p>"The Corona," Jack whispered.</p>
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<p>"Aye," Hedda said. "The Sky Crown. And the last time I saw this, it held not rags together, but a cloak of the finest linen."</p>
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<p>Connor listened, agog.</p>
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<p>"For this belonged to Eleon, Queen of the Westlands, who leapt from the keep to save her baby son. And save him she did, I think, though she sacrificed her own life in doing so."</p>
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<p>She pinned the brooch back on Connor's shabby tunic. "When you came up from the chasm, I saw Conovar's face in you. You are your father's son. And the blood of the Dagda, the high king, runs in your veins"</p>
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<p>"Me? A king?" Connor's mouth opened and closed, like a landed haddock. "No. I can't be. Cripples can't be kings. It's the law."</p>
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<p>Hedda laughed.</p>
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<p>"Cripple no more. Whatever damage Dermott did to that infant boy, it has been righted again. An omen of things to come."</p>
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<p>"Wait a minute," Jack said. "Remember what the book said? It's all come true."</p>
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<p>He rummaged in his pack and drew the book out again. Once more it flicked itself open and whirred to the page they had read before.</p>
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<p class="centered"><em>Brave the turning ocean race</em></p>
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<p class="centered"><em>Trust in fortune's tight embrace</em></p>
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<p class="centered"><em>Take to flight by cockleshell</em></p>
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<p class="centered"><em>Face the rip-tide's parlous swell.</em></p>
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<p class="centered"><em>The time is close to end of flight</em></p>
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<p class="centered"><em>Then journeyman, prepare to fight</em></p>
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<p class="centered"><em>For Eirinn and for Eirinn's plight</em></p>
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<p class="centered"><em>And turn to battle evil's might</em></p>
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<p class="centered"><em>Heroes will return and bring</em></p>
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<p class="centered"><em>The harmony that summons spring</em></p>
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<p class="centered"><em>To Tara Hill, its song re-born</em></p>
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<p class="centered"><em>And with them will a king return</em></p>
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<p>"It told us about the king. And we braved the turning ocean race. And we went by cockleshell, didn't we? So, it <em>has </em>to be true."</p>
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<p>"No," Connor said. "I'm the least kingly king you ever met. I never had a sword or a crown. And I never rode a horse until Corriwen showed me how. And I've been in rags all my days and a poacher to boot."</p>
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<p>"Those days are done," Hedda said. "And the rest of your Rune-book will come to pass. The flight is over and we will prepare to fight. And the harmony? Let me see what you carry."</p>
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<p>Jack reached under the big table and raised Brand's bag. He sat it in front of them, reached inside, and drew out the beautiful golden harp.</p>
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<p>"I think this might be what it means."</p>
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<p class='break'>* * *</p>
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<p>It had been a long day and Kerry snored like a tractor on the straw mattress. The giant had draped big woollen blankets over them. Corriwen's red hair gleamed in the faint torchlight. Connor had curled himself into a ball, the way he did when sleeping in the open. He had fallen asleep still protesting that he couldn't possibly be a king, but agreeing that having a horse one day might be a good thing.</p>
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<p>Jack couldn't sleep. His mind was in turmoil, and not only because of the sword on Hedda's wall. He had been too stunned then to speak. Now his friends were asleep, this was the time to find Hedda and speak to her about the sword and what she said on the brink of the abyss. </p>
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<p>He could wait no longer.</p>
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<p>He threw the blanket aside and got up, almost quivering with excitement, slipped out of the chamber and down the passage to the great room.</p>
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<p>The fire cast a rosy glow on the weaponry, all of them polished and gleaming as if ready for instant use. Slowly he approached the wall and stood before the Redthorn Sword. He had last seen it riven through Mandrake as they ran for the Homeward Gate, pursued by the monstrous Morrigan.</p>
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<p>His hand reached, of its own volition, and grasped the hilt. He drew it down from the wall, turned it point-up. It seemed to sing in his hand, as if it were part of him, pulsing with his own heartbeat.</p>
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<p>"Made for a man such as you." Her voice came from behind him.</p>
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<p>Jack had somehow known she would be there. He didn't even flinch.</p>
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<p>"I knew you would come back," Hedda said softly. "The sword called to you."</p>
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<p class='break'>* * *</p>
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<p>They sat together by the warmth of the fire. The light made the whorls and spirals of her tattoos seem to spin and dance on her face and her long red braids coiled about her shoulders.</p>
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<p>"I need to know about my father," Jack said. "You knew him."</p>
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<p>She nodded. </p>
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<p>"A long time ago. But the memory is fresh as a new rose. I met the traveller. Jonathan."</p>
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<p>"Jonathan Flint." He held up the penknife the Major had given him. The letters JCF were carved into the bone handle.</p>
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<p>She nodded. "I named him Cullian, as I choose a name for all who live the hour by the abyss. In my old tongue, it means Fair Champion. And he was the champion of all worlds. I forged two swords, one he carried, and one you now bear. Swords of great power, made in the heat below these mountains, hilted in faery-glass."</p>
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<p>Hedda bent her head and when she raised it again, her eyes were glazed again. </p>
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<p>"He was the only man I ever loved, and I know he loved me in his way. As a true friend. But his heart was snared by another and I knew I would not win him. Instead I taught him and together we fought the Fir Bolg and sent them back to the sea. A good and just fight it was and Jonathan Cullian, he saved Eirinn for men."</p>
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<p>She smiled, sadly. "He came back to me at the end." She got to her feet and crossed to the wall where one blank space showed old stone. Again she touched a carving on the surface and a secret door opened. She reached into darkness and drew something out, then brought it to the fireside for Jack to see.</p>
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<p>"The Oaken Club," she said. "The third of the Dagda's gifts when he left this world and went with the Sky Queen."</p>
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<p>It was a massive thing, and hideous too, polished to a gleaming lustre. Solid oak, carved into a skull head, like an ornate mace, with gaping sockets and ferocious teeth. Big spikes studded the skull's head. </p>
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<p>"Carved from the first oak," she said, "in the far days when the trees could talk. Whoever bears this fears no harm and loses no battle. Jonathan Cullian brought me this for safekeeping, away from the dreams of ambitious men, to hold until such times as Eirinn's need of it returned. As it has now, I now believe."</p>
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<p>She placed it on the table where the sockets glared up at Jack.</p>
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<p>Fainn has the Cauldron. You have brought the Harp, but its song is silenced. I must dwell on that."</p>
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<p>Jack was worried that the conversation had taken the wrong direction.</p>
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<p>"My father," he urged her. "I have been trying to find him."</p>
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<p>"Then your road will be long and hard. You bear the firestone heart, which means he could not. When he left, it was to go back to the woman who had won his love. Where he went, I cannot say."</p>
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<p>"Can't, or won't?"</p>
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<p>"Cannot," she repeated. "The Journeyman goes where he is called and will not return until the quest is done. How did you come by the heartstone?"</p>
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<p>Jack told her of what had happened on the night they had stumbled through the gate in the ring of stones and found themselves in Temair.</p>
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<p>"But the Major told me it had been my father's. I think I was brought through the gates as a baby. I had nightmares that things were chasing me and I was being carried. I think they might be memories."</p>
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<p>She nodded, considering this.</p>
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<p>"Jonathan Cullian would never have given up the heartstone unless he had to. For your safety or its safeguarding. That can only mean he travelled without it. And now you are the journeyman."</p>
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<p>"But if he is still alive, how can I find him?"</p>
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<p>"That I don't know either. You must ask the Sky Queen for help. She will look kindly on one who has risked all for Eirinn."</p>
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<p>Another thought struck Jack right at that moment.</p>
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<p>"You said he was in love with someone. Did you know her?"</p>
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<p>"I knew <em>of</em> her. And that he was the only one for her."</p>
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<p>"Do you think that would have been my mother?"</p>
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<p>"Ah, Jack Flint," she sighed. "I believe it could have been none other."</p>
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<p>"So what now?"</p>
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<p>"We finish the quest and end this sadness in Eirinn. We gird for war."</p>
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<p class='break'>* * *</p>
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<p>They spent a week on the island with Hedda and very skilfully she taught taught them the secrets of warfare. For Jack it was both amazing and frustrating. He had learned more about his father than he had ever known, and the more he knew, the more he admired a man he had never met.</p>
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<p>Yet while emotionally he felt closer to the man known as Jonathan Cullian Flint, his father was still remote. He had vanished as if he had never been, and all Hedda could tell Jack was that he had fallen in love with a woman who must be his mother.</p>
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<p>How Jack had come to end up with the Major in the old peninsula house was still a mystery. Where Jonathan Flint had vanished to, nobody had a clue. And his mother? She too was a puzzle yet to be solved.</p>
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<p>Were they alive? Were they dead? So far nobody had been able to tell him.</p>
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<p>But he was determined to find out, one way and another, if he had to travel through every gate in the Cromwath Blackwood ring of stones, until he found an answer.</p>
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<p class='break'>* * *</p>
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<p>Hedda had taken him aside.</p>
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<p>"Are you afraid, Journeyman?" she had asked.</p>
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<p>"Of course I am," he said, seriously. "I'm not even sixteen yet."</p>
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<p>"But you have a stout heart and a fine sword. The cause is good. Better to fight the good fight and win your way to TirNanOg."</p>
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<p>"If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not get there any time soon," Jack said, managing a smile. "I really want to find my father."</p>
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<p>The broken harp stood between them, its golden surface glittering in the glow of the fire.</p>
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<p>"I have been thinking on this," she said. "It has lost its harmony and spring fails in Eirinn. </p>
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<p>"It must be re-strung."</p>
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<p>"I've got good fishing line," Kerry said. He dug in his pack and brought out a spool of nylon. "Forty pounds breaking strain."</p>
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<p>Hedda agreed that it might work and he used Corriwen's Swiss army knife to cut lengths a yard long. He seemed to know what he was doing and quickly tightened up a whole line of strings before he turned to Hedda.</p>
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<p>"This is a bit thick for the high notes. Have you anything finer?"</p>
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<p>She smiled at him and began to unwind one of her long braids, then cut out a hank of fiery hair. Kerry twisted two or three together to make a fine cord, just the way he made snares from horstail-hair and got to work again. When he had finished the harp looked as if it was playable at least.</p>
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<p>Corriwen's nimble fingers turned the keys as she plucked the strings until she thought the harp was in tune. Then stroked all the strings from top to bottom.</p>
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<p>As soon as she did, the heartstone vibrated keenly on its setting. Jack felt it flutter against his chest as if a little jolt of electricity had pulsed through it. In his head, he thought he heard a pure crystalline sound.</p>
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<p>The others were intent on the harp, listening to the faint notes fading away.</p>
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<p>Hedda said. "It's power is gone."</p>
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<p>But right at the centre of his brain, Jack could hear whispering words. He cocked his head, eyes fixed on the middle distance. Corrie ran her fingers down the strings again, harder this time. The faint chord sang out.</p>
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<p>Jack heard the sound matched by the heartstone, and underneath that sound, a clear voice.</p>
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<p><em>Take me home to Tara hill</em></p>
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<p><em>Let me sing to end the ill</em></p>
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<p><em>End the winter, start the spring</em></p>
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<p><em>Take me home and let me sing.</em></p>
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<p>"It sang to me," Jack said in a whisper. The voice was fading away and he wanted to hold on to it, keep its pure note.</p>
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<p>He lifted the heartstone and brought it close to the harp. The strings began to hum again and the stone vibrated like a tuning fork.</p>
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<p>"It <em>talked.</em> It sang to me through the stone.</p>
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<p>"What did it sing?" Hedda asked. She looked unsurprised.</p>
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<p>"It wants to go home. To Tara Hill."</p>
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<p>"Then to Tara Hill we go," she said. "The end begins."</p>
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<p class='break'>* * *</p>
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<p>Under Hedda's stronghold, Fennel laboured in a deep chamber where a hole in the black rock glowed with intense heat. She was forging new weapons for Connor and Kerry.</p>
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<p>"Eirinn's furnace," she said. In one big hand she held Corriwen's knives and very nimbly for one so huge, she stripped them of the ornate hafts then pushed them into the heat until they went white.</p>
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<p>Fennel finally re-hafted the knives which now gleamed with brilliant fire, but instead of the original decoration, she made a simple pair of handles from what looked like snake-skin. When she handed them back to Corriwen, they felt different, and much better balanced.</p>
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<p>Hedda undid one of her long braids and plucked a single hair, holding it up like a copper thread. She let it drop.</p>
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<p>"Cut," she told Corriwen.</p>
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<p>The knives flashed. The air sang as they clove, and the fine red hair was first cut in two and then each half split down the middle.</p>
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<p>Corriwen looked in amazement as four new strands fluttered to the floor.</p>
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<p>"A weapon must have power of its own," Hedda said. "It draws it from the heart of Eirinn. <em>Now,</em> you are the warrior woman Dermott fears."</p>
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<p> </p>
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