Wings of Change

Promise

I search for Biré at the fires that evening, when the business of the day is done and everyone relaxes to share a drink with their neighbors and tell stories, or play a tune on a flute or beat out a rhythm for dancing on a drum.

Weaving my way through the campsites, I exchange greetings with strangers I've met who are now neighbors; in years to come I will see them again, at Gatherings, trading, or when we defend ourselves. Will they stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the Damnonii, or face us with weapons raised? Loyalties are constantly shifting. In the end, we must band together to fight for the unity of Alba. How many years in the future that will be, I cannot yet see.

The smell of the wood smoke is sharp in the cool night air. Children run from fire to fire, playing with new friends as they do not at home. This Gathering is a time of freedom for them, and it makes me laugh to see their joy and impetuousness. The thought brings back the events of yesterday.

I redouble my search. I must find Biré.

The change—what a blessing! To possess such a skill would be invaluable. I would be able to soar high above the landscape, scouting for trouble, or just see how the land about our crannog lies; if anyone approached, I would know it and could warn my family. And for myself, of course, I would know the joy of soaring powerful and sure through the clouds, above the green moors and the tallest tors, skim the cresting waves over the sea. I want this for myself as much as I want it for my clan.

I feel my skin clenched around me, binding me to the ground. I want to feel feathers sprouting from my shoulders, from my arms and legs, wings ready to lift me weightless into the air. It is a fight now to be human. Merely human. I need to fly.

As I spin around in frustration I see him finally, at a nearby fire. He is laughing at something a clansman has said, raising a wooden cup in salute to the man's words. Biré's head is thrown back carelessly, mottled brown-gold hair flying around his head, reflecting the fire, reflecting the sliver of moon which peeks out from behind the clouds.

As the laugh dies away he sees me, standing expectant, the power within me quivering to be unleashed. My mysticism recognizes his magic; the two clash in a whiplash of desire for completion. The two need to become one. His smile now is for me alone. I shiver as if he has already touched me. Biré steps away from the fire with a word of apology to the clansman and heads toward me.

"Well met, Aati of the Damnonii," he says, and his smile reaches his sparkling eyes. "How goes the Council of Elders?"

"Why do you think that's where I've been?" I ask as he takes my hand and leads me through the fires, past people singing and playing in the night, their music rising into the cloud-covered sky.

"I've seen you there," he says, looking down at me. I am half a head shorter than him and must look up to meet his eyes. "Sitting at the side of your clan seer, listening to the talk."

"And where have you been?" I ask boldly.

"I've been 'round about, here and there, running errands and such. I've not much time to myself, with the Epidii hosting this Gathering."

We step lightly past the outer ring of fires now and onto the green peat of the open moor. This way leads out to the shore, just down from where I saw him Change. Biré offers his arm to steady me on the uneven ground. I take it, because I am unsteady, but not because of the footing.

His arm beneath the sleeve of his jerkin is firm, well-muscled, but not with the bulky muscles of one who wields a sword. He thrums with power, like a bowstring pulled taut, ready to release an arrow in flight. I glance up at him, and in the cloud-filtered moonlight find his eyes on me.

This is not a safe way to find one's footing on uneven ground, I think. But with eyes locked we continue up the slope towards the headland. At the crest of the hill I look away finally, to see the smudged reflection of cloud upon wave, as the sea rolls away from us into forever.

"Have you been down to the water caves?" Biré asks. "They're just there," he points along the side of the rocky cliff that falls into the waves. "It's amazing, the power of the sea pounding through the caves. There's an opening at the back where the waves rush through, sounding like thunder." He turns to face me again, peering down in the dim light. "It near makes my heart stop every time I hear it."

Biré's words resonate within me. I cannot decide what I want more: to be with him, wrapped in enchantment, or to be able to wrest from him the secret of the shapechange.

"No," I shake my head, "I have not been to the caves. But I was here earlier," I nod towards the headland further along the cliffs. "This afternoon, in fact." I look deep into his eyes, hungrily. "I saw you here, with a boy and girl—"

He laughs softly. "Do you think I didn't see you?" he asks, locking his gaze on me. "Falcons have very sharp vision, you know. It helps when we search for prey on the ground. Those little mice and voles can be difficult to see."

I thought I would have to pry it out of him, to wheedle and cajole, even to threaten...But he's revealed himself to me without hesitation.

"Do you not fear exposure?" I say. "Many would be frightened by such a talent, attack the clan who possessed it."

He shakes his shaggy head regretfully. "Aye," he says, "but how would the Epidii thrive if they didn't bring in new blood?"

Is he saying what I think—?

"And do the Epidii need new blood?" I ask, my voice almost a whisper. "Is Biré of the Epidii in search of a mate?" I glance back towards the crest of the hill behind us, the glow from the fires just beyond. I swallow nervously and look back at him, to find his eyes boring into mine. "A clan Gathering is a good time to seek a mate, I've been told. So many new people to meet. So many young women looking for a husband. Many handfastings come—"

My words are cut short as his lips meet mine. I need have no fear; his lips bear no trace of the peregrine's sharp beak. The kiss we share is soft and seeking, gentle as a rabbit nuzzling morning dew from a green leaf. I feel the promise in this kiss.

When we break apart at last, there is still only the space of a breath between us.

"I knew as soon as I first saw you," Biré says, "that we would be together."

My thoughts are muddled, muffled, beneath the lingering feeling in my lips. "The day we arrived, you mean? When I was building the firepit? You seemed kind—"

"No, before that." He is waiting for me to remember, but I am unable to think clearly.

"On the road, then?"

"On the road, yes," he says, "But before that. As the morning mist lifted from the loch, on the causeway of your family's crannog."

I am such a fool! Why did I not make the connection? I smile ruefully. "You bit me!"

Biré laughs softly. "Actually, I marked you," he says. "As mine." He raises my hand to his lips and kisses the faintly scarred flesh.

We kiss again, and again, there on the shore cliffs with the waves pounding through the caves below. When we return at last to the fires, most of the people are rolled in their blankets beside the dying embers. At the fire of the Damnonii, only Mam and Pap are awake, waiting for me to return. We step to their side as Pap rises and stares into Biré's face. I have never noticed before how much gray marks his beard. But he is not old, yet, only hardened by our life. I pray that he will live to see my children grow within his walls.

Biré is unflinching beneath Pap's hard gaze. "I am Biré of the Epidii," he says, "and I would take your daughter Aati as my mate."

I smile at Pap from beneath Biré's arm, and nod. Pap searches our faces, sees only agreement there. Agreement, and two pairs of lips softened by kissing. He nods in return, his face easing, and takes Mam's hand to help her rise.

"Biré of the Epidii," Pap says, holding Mam's hand tightly in his, "you honor our clan."

There will be at least one handfasting before this Gathering is over.