The fading lightdappled the hide of the stag that emerged from the cover of the trees, alone this time without the rest of his herd. Moving with great and near-silent dignity, he raised his head, displaying a magnificent rack of antlers.
He and Adair regarded one another.
For that one long, incredible moment, Adair did not breathe. The stag’s eyes, very dark and full of mystery, spoke to him. Silently did the message come, and Adair’s heartbeat thundered.
This place is mine. You intrude upon my land.
Aye, indeed, and so he did.
Slowly and carefully, he backed off a step. Not far, as the tree stood close behind him. Softly he called, “I be here through no choice o’ my own.”
His pony flicked its ears. The stag did not move. It continued to watch Adair the way Alba seemed to watch him, with a hint of silent threat.
More than a hint.
Perhaps fifty paces separated him and the beast across the clearing. Adair understood how swiftly a stag of that size could cross the distance. Would he defend his territory?
Might Adair seize his pony’s bridle and lead him off into the trees? Give the king his distance.
But he did not feel sure he should do that. There was some magic in this encounter, and it held him.
He had left the bow on the ground. He now lifted his hands as he might to a man he wished to reassure, showing them empty of weapons.
And stepped out.
Madness, aye. The very opposite of what wisdom dictated. Quite possibly, he should go back up the tree. Wait for the beast to leave. Yet that was not what was meant.
Another pace and he waited, the pony now behind him.
The stag snorted and stepped out also, toward him.
“By Lugh’s spear,” Adair muttered. A thrill coursed through him from head to toe. And louder, “Can ye give me my direction? I will leave ye then, leave ye to your kingdom.”
The stag tossed his head. As if to a signal, all the light went out of the clearing, blotted by clouds streaming above. It abruptly grew dark as night.
This, as Adair knew—as he felt to the very marrow of his bones—was a moment of magic. In a place of magic.
Alba was not Erin.
“Show me, I pray,” he whispered.
The stag moved, turned to his right and Adair’s left. Started across the clearing.
Hastily, Adair grabbed his pony’s lead and snatched up the bow.
At the edge of the clearing, the stag paused and turned to look at Adair once more. They were now so close, Adair could smell the beast’s heavy scent and, despite the fleeing of the light, see each separate hair of his hide. The animal breathed out a gust of air and Adair nodded.
“This way?”
A great swirl of wind entered the clearing and chased around it. All the trees nodded at once, bending their dark boughs.
As if bowing.
“Thank ye, master.”
Another snort and the stag gathered its hooves beneath it. Leaped away, leaving great gouges of earth behind. It disappeared into the trees, leaving Adair blinking, no longer certain of what he’d seen.
Had that truly taken place? Had the beast given him a direction back to the settlement? Or would it send him off into the vast wilderness of Alba’s heart?
