Bravely(85)

Feradach, on the other hand, looked supremely human. There was no terrifying power to him as he stood, shoulders slumped, before her.

“I knew you were tricky,” he was saying, “but I never knew you were cruel.”

I am not being cruel. I offer in earnest.

“Me, a mortal?” Feradach asked. “How would that even work?”

You know how that would work. You can see it. You can feel it. That body you are in would become your body. Those hands would be your hands. Those gloves would belong to someone else who would perform your duty instead. Another Feradach, the god. You would become Feradach, a man named after the god. You would live a man’s life. You would die in the way all mortals do, at some point.

She paused and Merida drew back swiftly, silently, careful to stay out of sight.

“You would use your miracle for this?” Feradach asked. “Why?”

You have changed, Feradach. You have become something else. You have learned to love the continuity of humanity. You have learned to love belonging. You have learned to want to be seen as one person. You have learned to love that face you are wearing. You have changed the way you think about the world and that change, as you know, earns my attention. It is worthy of a miracle. I can make you human. You can have what you want.

“You cannot know what I truly want, Old Woman,” Feradach said.

Take this body, Feradach, flee with Merida tonight, and you both win the bargain, in a way.

Merida held her breath.

Feradach echoed heavily, “Flee with Merida.”

I know you have learned to love her.

Merida pressed a hand over her own mouth. It was to stop even the sound of her breath escaping, but instead, it made her think of the first time she’d seen Feradach remove his glove, the way it had been just an ordinary human hand beneath it.

Feradach again clasped his deadly hands to his chest. Merida could see them moving up and down with his uneven breaths.

In the silence, she heard the chaos of the army beating against her family.

“No,” he said, finally.

Merida silently let out the breath she was holding.

No?

“You say my change has earned your miracle, is that right?” Feradach asked. “Then I still want the miracle, but not to have this body, not to run away with her. I want your miracle to help them defeat the Dásachtach. They cannot do it alone. They will be dead in a few hours. I want your miracle to drive him back so that he does not return, or if he does, it is not for years and years and years.”

You have surprised me, Young Man. I misjudged what you wanted.

“I love her,” Feradach said simply. “Which is why I cannot let her family die. They are everything to her.”

Merida found that she, too, was standing with her hands balled up against her chest.

Even if you could become everything to her instead?

Feradach sighed, and in that single sound, Merida could hear how deeply miserable he was. But he said, “I have watched ever so many humans. That wouldn’t be love; it would simply be possession.”

The Cailleach gently tilted her staff away from Feradach.

This is a very human thing you are doing, Feradach, even as you choose to say goodbye to this body you’re wearing now and move on to the next and the next and the next. And I suppose some would say it is against your nature, to refuse change, to continue in your duties as before. But I think it is very fitting. You choose to ruin yourself to save the next generation of change, and that is exactly your nature. It will be done, this miracle you ask.

Feradach’s eyelashes fluttered, and then he drew himself up. “Thank you, Old Woman.”

The tide against DunBroch will turn before dawn. This is my miracle, if the land will grant it to me.

She banged her staff on the floor.





THE battle shifted, just like that.

The wall collapsed on a handful of the Dásachtach’s men. The wind kicked up to throw dirt in eyes. The stable broke apart as the Dásachtach’s army tried to burn it, but the escaping horses served only to spook the Dásachtach’s horses. Harris and the triplets launched new pane glass at the army with cutting precision. The arrows found their mark. The doors held. The rain began to pour and put out the burning trees. And then, as the Cailleach’s green fire receded in the night sky and dawn began to rise, the crofters and the townspeople suddenly appeared in a makeshift army, their weapons in hand.

There were people from outside the town, too, even people from Keithneil and, right before dawn, the men of Ardbarrach, their ranks glistening and precise and threatening. Never had Merida thought she’d be relieved to see those uniforms again. Never had she thought she’d be glad to see how disciplined and loyal they were. She fetched out more arrows from the armory and ran out with her bow to support them.

And in the breaking light, the boys of the Dásachtach’s army began to recognize the families they had been taken from, and they began to break ranks. They ran back to fight with their families, and then not to fight at all, because there were not enough men left to fight DunBroch.

There was just Wolftail and the Dásachtach standing in the glittering green light of a new winter day, strangely warm, the rain dripping from the repaired roofs of DunBroch.

Merida wondered at how splendid the castle looked in this light, old DunBroch, a castle made new. The rising sun caught each of the panes of glass and lit them like spring fire. The ivy was green and lush. The berries in the Christmas boughs were bright as battle. It was a grand and welcoming and beautiful sight, vibrant and alive. Yes, there was smoking fire in the background and walls had newly been knocked down, but it was impossible not to see that beneath that, the castle had a live and beating heart. It had changed. It had earned its freedom from Feradach’s destruction. It had become something new. Or rather, it was still DunBroch, but it was DunBroch, grown, changing, moving onward, and Merida was fiercely proud.