[COMPLETED] The Vixen and The Thief

Chapter 1

Fadó fadó in Éireann, blianta fada, fada ó shin....

A girl with long dark hair galloped across the hills on her pony, trying to out-race the wind. The mizzle that swept across the land in grey veil smacked her face, whipping away each laugh once uttered, and her hair streamed out behind her like the forerunning clouds of storm.

Béibhinn her name was, Béibhinn Uí Bhriain, and she was of the Dál gCais - the tribe of the High King.

Atop the hill the grey pony slid to a halt and she let him breath, herself watching the land fast disappearing beneath rain curtain. Highlands slid down in frozen green waves, crested by foaming hawthorn. The bush of the faeries - fair, and untouchable. And beyond, a swathe of lowland. A place of bog and woodland shadowed by the distant blue of mountains.

A whiff of peat smoke recalled her to the time of day and she set the pony on again, galloping across the hill face with the twapp of long grass against his legs and the shriek of startled snipe. A great grin spread across her face. Dropping the reins she lifted her hands to the slate hued sky - and  flew.

"Saoirse!" she laughed, and louder: "Freedom!"

Free. Like the buzzard that wheeled above the forestry, its mewing cries tossing on the wind.

****

Presently she struck a rutted track that wound between fields and forest, great ash and beech trees spreading their green filigree above her head. She let the pony slow to a trot. There was yet time.  

Her eldest brother Ruadhán had ridden with several men to parlay with neighbouring Taoisigh. His hope to raise a force against the warrior band who came raiding and burning from their stronghold amid the crags of Sliabh na bhFian. The band's leader, himself a young man, had earned himself the title ' An Beitheach' - The Beast.

But the neighbouring chiefs were a fractious lot, and it was sure to be some time before Ruadhán returned. As such, however late she herself came back to the fort there was sure to be dinner in the pot.

The rain drew in heavier and Béibhinn hastened her pony on, drawing her brown woolen brat about her shoulders. But she did not fear to ride alone here. It was too early in the evening for wolves and An Beitheach would never dare to attack the fort of Cnoc Airde. To antagonise the kinsmen of the High King was surely more than even he had nerve to do. Why even now her father was away in Caiseal with the King of Munster, holding discussions on the fate of An Beitheach in the King's own citadel of shining white stone. Which rose indomitable from the plains of Tiobráid Árann atop a single outcrop of limestone.

****

Hence, when Béibhinn first heard the horse she thought it to be just an echo of her own pony's hooves. But it was coming faster. Fast and uncontrolled, galloping down the track, its beats ricochetting off the walls of dripping trees. Her pony ducked and whinnied and Béibhinn whirled it about to face the coming rider.

Around a bend came the flying form of a bay pony, careering wildly, reins swinging, foaming with sweat.

Béibhinn's heart froze, a cry escaping her lips. For the pony was riderless, and it was her brother's.

He must have fallen. The though flashed through her mind. Even the greatest horsemen did. Her own pony shied, veering to charge away with its companion.

Fool!  She yanked the animal around, blocking the path as the other came charging down. "Ohh now..A stórín..ohhh..."  she reached for the swinging reins but the terrified animal barged past, sending her own off at a furious gallop.

"Shh! Shh!" Béibhinn hauled vainly on he reins, the trees flashing past.  She would be carried all the way to the fort if she could not turn the pony. Abandoning any ideas of catching her brother's mount Béibhinn dragged her own around, spinning and circling as it tried to chase its companion.

With a smack of her ash plant across the pony's flank she sent him back up the road. Always watching the distant corner between the trees for her brother to appear walking...well, perhaps limping...

Béibhinn reached the corner and saw no sign of Ruadhán. Her throat tightened slightly, apprehension creeping into her mind  - for the track ahead was clear.

She rode on faster, pushing her pony into a canter, scanning the lands left and right. He must be hurt. For why had he not pursued his own mount? And where were the men who had ridden with  him? Of them there was no sign either.

Black pine woods leaned over the track on her left, no light showing between their clawing branches. On her other hand the land lay cleared for farming. Rolling upwards like the folds of a green blanket, crowned with a line of full leafed Beeches. The beginnings of a forest that stretched all the way to the distant mountain.

A movement caught Béibhinn's eye, away on the very fringe of the wood. 

Too fast for cattle...too large for boars...deer? Or....?

She squinted through the drizzly mist.

Ponies!

The flicker of riders - she was quite certain.

Rain dripped from her hair into her eyes and she blinked. They had vanished. Swallowed by the trees.

"Brostaigh!" she ordered her animal, turning it into the fields. A strange fear filled her chest. A fear without reason. Without sense. But the kind that was, occasionally, correct.

But by the time she reached the forest's edge there was not a shadow to be seen. The leaves rustled, damply glistening, though the dead copper carpet beneath their boughs was still dry and showed no tracks.

With a cry of frustration Béibhinn followed what hoofmarks there were. Back over the grass, skirting the forest edge, hoping to find....

She screamed.

Not that! She begged, Anything on the wide earth but what she now saw down in a smooth dell beneath the outermost trees.

The torn up earth of a skirmish, and a motionless body on the ground.

Author's note:

Well, tá súil agam go mbain sibh taithneamh as seo...  I hope you enjoyed this. :) It's only the first chapter I'm afraid - I am not the world's best typist and I write everything out on paper first. Definately slows the process!

If you did like it...a vote or comment would be nice. ;) I don't consider this to be one of my 'serious' WIPs, but if people did like it, I might put more effort into it in time...

Bail ó Dhia oraibh,

Heidi