Bravely(7)

But something had knocked on that door and brought her out here, and it hadn’t been Feradach. Feradach was supposed to kill her, and he hadn’t yet. The balance of growth and ruin had been disrupted, and he wouldn’t go away until it was corrected. These were all the moves that had been made so far.

Think, Merida, think, she thought. What’s the Black Raven in this game?

And then she had it.

“Why did you jump away from me so quickly a few moments ago? It’s because you thought your touch would kill me, isn’t it?” She took a daring step toward him, cold hand outstretched. “So, if I’m supposed to die, why didn’t you just get it over with right then? Why not just now?”

Feradach stumbled in his haste to back out of her reach. “That’s—that’s not how it is supposed to happen.”

She asked, “Then what about that sapling?”

“The sapling?”

“You killed that wee little tree just to prove a point. Are you allowed to just go round killing things? Was that how it was ‘supposed’ to happen?” She could tell from his troubled face that she was on the right track. “You changed the balance, too. So there’s got to be room for something positive in exchange.”

“You cannot ask me to spare all of DunBroch for just this sapling,” Feradach said. “That’s not balance.”

“No, I’m not asking for you to spare us,” Merida said. “I’m asking for a bargain.”

“I don’t bargain. The balance—”

But before he could finish his thought, the waterfall and the pools began to transform.





BY DAY, this place was beautiful and unusual, the shallow pools a jeweled blue green. By night, they were usually a still, secretive black, nearly hidden in the dark landscape.

But after Merida had spoken of a bargain, the water began to gleam, like her words had been yet another question and this was another answer. Orbs of bluish light rose from below the surface, as if the pools were much deeper than they seemed. Will o’ the wisps, she thought, those eerie beacons that lured travelers to miracles or to doom. She’d forgotten how impossible they were. How unlike candlelight or sunlight.

Magic, magic, magic.

The clear black sky was changing, too. An intense ribbon of green danced among the stars like cold fire. Na Fir-Chlis! The Nimble Men. That was what they called that phenomenon in DunBroch. Merida had seen it before, in both green and purple, but never so close. This glimmering trail seemed low enough for a bird to fly through.

A low, melodic moan began to sound, like wind through a gap in the rocks. It keened and soared from both above and below, as if the sky or the river were singing.

Quite suddenly, the space felt holy.

And then Feradach and Merida were no longer alone.

An old woman stood on the opposite bank. She was crooked and lined like an ancient tree or like the great old boulders around her. Her winter-white hair was matted into huge, strange shapes. Her weight balanced on a dark staff, twisted as a fire-blackened branch. She had only one eye, and it was the swirling dark black-and-green of the starry sky overhead.

Merida’s stomach dropped right down to her feet. She might have mistaken Feradach for a mere boggart or goblin, but she couldn’t mistake this figure.

What child in DunBroch didn’t know the stories? The strong winds of winter were named after her breath. Her wizened likeness, her blackened staff, and her multicolored starry eye—they were stitched into one of the tapestries hanging in DunBroch’s Great Hall. Bringer of rain, of life, of justice.

“The Cailleach,” Merida whispered, through chattering teeth. She nearly couldn’t stand from the awe of it. The goddess of winter. The goddess of Scotland. This was bigger magic than Merida had ever thought she might touch in her lifetime. Bigger magic than anyone in Scotland usually touched in their lifetime.

Feradach, however, sounded quite annoyed. “Oh, come on now.”

Feradach, the Cailleach said, is that any way to greet me?

Her voice still sounded like the moaning, singsong tones Merida had heard as the god had arrived. It was both elemental and wild, nothing like Feradach’s.

His voice seemed particularly human now as he complained, “I should have known you had a hand in this. The knock. That was you.”

You know I have a stake in this family.

“I won’t be tricked,” he said.

Of course you won’t. But the Cailleach sounded a little amused. Merida of DunBroch, I see you’re out late on this night.

Merida didn’t know what to say to her. Her mother had been trying to teach her how to appear respectful for the better part of twenty years, and the presence of a goddess didn’t seem to improve her instincts. She tried, teeth chattering, “H-h-h-h-happy Chr-Chr-Christmas?”

I am from a time before Christmas, the Cailleach said, but she seemed sort of pleased. In any case, she raised her staff in Merida’s direction. Merida thought this was just a salute until she realized her entire body was being suffused in agreeable heat. More magic! The supernatural blast dried Merida’s soaking dress and hair. Her numb nose and feet warmed to vital pink. Even her thoughts thawed; she hadn’t realized how disordered they’d become.

Now Merida could finally remember to curtsy. “Thank you.”

Feradach, what are you doing here on this night?