The Hidden World

Chapter 12

Everyone turned to stare at her, and a Fianna warrior stooping at the water's edge for a drink whirled around, drawing his sword reflexively. At the same instant, the surface of the lake behind him erupted into a fountain of foam, and something long and dark that glistened like a wet log thrust through it, seizing hold of his leg. He fell, howling in pain.

His comrades immediately rushed to his aid, swords drawn. The creature let go its prey and reared up, hissing.

It was greenish-black with dark mottlings, its head larger than a horse's. The long, swaying neck was as thick around as a man's body, and was covered in fish-like scales. The head bore a finny crest of webbed spines. There was a frothing of the water behind the neck, and a great green arch rose from it, scaly arid dripping: a coil of the creature's long, serpentine body.

People streamed back from the water, added their cries to the terrified bleating and lowing of their animals. Belatedly, Maeve too began to run, but her legs were uncertain beneath her and she stumbled. The Fianna charged as one man, but the monster did not retreat. The dark head seemed to split open, like a cloven melon, and there was a huge salmon-pink mouth lined with serrated teeth. It lunged with lightning speed, snapping at the men.

And then Morgana was suddenly there, riding her horse at the monster, her face grim. Holding out her arm, she spoke in Gaelic, her voice high and commanding. The beast paid no heed, but snaked its long, glistening neck towards her horse, making him rear and scream. As Morgana fought to control him, Arawn bent to seize the sword of the fallen man, who now lay clutching his bloodied leg and groaning. Swinging the blade in a long arc, Arawn hacked at the scaly neck.

The other Fianna joined him, their blades rising and falling almost in unison. Dark wounds gaped from the green-black hide. With a hiss like water thrown on fire, the injured beast recoiled, diving back into the lake. There was another flurry of foam, and then a long slick, like oil or black blood, tinted the churning bubbles of its retreat. The waters smoothed, were still again beneath the grey sky.

Arawn was left standing at the water's edge, sword in hand. The Fianna now turned their weapons towards him. He faced them with a savage light in his grey eyes, and for an instant Maeve feared he would take them all on at once. But then he gave a little shrug, as though it was of no importance, and flung the sword away. Maeve breathed again.

"What was that beast?" asked Thomas, shaken. "I never saw the like of it."

Dugall gazed at the water in wonderment. "A peist—they are ancient creatures, older than the oldest magic, and many of us had thought that their kind was long gone from the world. The old things truly are stirring again. No one knows where these water dragons come from. Perhaps they are spawned from the great sea serpents and find their way up rivers and into lochs. Are there any such creatures in your world?" he asked of Maeve.

"No," she answered, "at least . . . there are stories of a monster that lives in a loch in Scotland. But not many people believe in it. Or in sea monsters, either."

"It is said in Dalriada that there is only one serpent now left in the sea—Cirein Croin, he is called. He is the largest beast that lives, and he roves about the ocean hunting whales for his food."

The peist did not resurface, but fearing that it was merely lurking in the lake and might try another attack, they hastened from the place. The Fianna warrior it had nearly taken was in a bad way. His injured leg had been bound up and his comrades had helped him onto his horse, but despite his stoicism, all knew that he must be in terrible pain.

When the lake was finally at a safe distance behind them, Morgana signalled again for a halt.

"We are come now to the parting of our ways," she said, turning to face Arawn. "I must go westward and seek the others of the old faith; they may provide me with fighting men and chariots."