Re: How Necessary is an Agent?


"Brian M. Scott"

I can't tell for sure whether this is meant to refer to your
writing or to writing in general. For writing in general I
can think of quite a few exceptions (i.e., scenes in which
at least some sketch of the details is relevant).

"By the vine I call you to me, by furze and elder and yew. By the
ivy I summon you, by the pine and the ash." In her hand she had a
little dried-up cluster of leaves. She threw it on the fire, and, even
though the handful was small and the fire large, all the flames died
as if snuffed with a blanket. A thick smoke blew and whipped around us
in the dark, white when the lightning flashed. "By the reek of Tech
Duinn I command The Morrigan. Come! Here! Now!" A fugitive flame
flickered at the edge of the fire. She thrust her face down into the
roiling smoke and breathed in sharply. Her mouth worked and a stifled
grunt of pain escaped her ashen lips. The smoke took hold of her. Her
face went blank, eyes staring with the whites clear all around the
iris, mad eyes. She sat back on her heels, hands held out palm
downwards over the fire. The voice that rasped from her throat was a
woman's voice, but deep and guttural. It had a lot of blood in it.

"I am Morgan, the Raven of Battle. Who calls me?" The wind buffeted
the grove. "I am Morigu, the Healer. Who summons me from the place of
Áes sídthe?" Lightning flashed. "I am The Morrigan, oldest, mother of
all. Who dares command ME?" The last word was a roar that mingled with
and equalled the storm. Then a new voice, not the quiet soft voice of
the woman who nursed me, but a firm voice used to right and privilege.

"I called you. I, Brigith Dearg, dedicated to you from birth. I
summoned you. I, Brigith Cebha, daughter of the son of Te'achtm'hair,
he who was High King, prince of battles. I commanded you. I!" Her head
was back and her eyes were aflame with the power of command. "I,
Brigith na Filied, ban-drui, high priestess of Morigu the Fair, she
who holds healing in her hand. I command you. Heal this man." Suddenly
the wind dropped and it was as if the world held its breath. Only the
fire crackled gently. The voice when it came was grudging.

"So be it. In return I place on you this geis, where and while and
when. Where he goes, so shall you. While he lives, so shall you. When
he dies, so shall you. You will not cheat me for I know that you are
three. Is it agreed?"

"Agreed."

Her hands were warm from the fire as she knelt astride me, guiding
me into her. Her face was not that of the woman I loved. It had become
a mask of something old and wise and hard as the hills, and about it
flickered the ghost light that sometimes haunts ships at sea. She used
me, enveloping me in rough gentleness, and the darkness within me
faded slowly. As she rocked she chanted deep and low, slow words that
soothed my brain.

"I am the wind that blows the sea, the wave of the ocean, the murmur
of the billows. I am the spearpoint that gives battle, the goddess who
fires the thought in the head of man. Who tells the ages of the moon
if not I? Who tells the ages of the earth?"

I felt light, airy, ready to float away once the goddess finished
her frantic thrusting. When we woke it was day. The fire was almost
dead, leaking just a little foul-smelling smoke into the morning air.





We rode slowly back to the valley, our horses walking with hanging
heads, still nervous from the storm. Brigith was uncommunicative when
I questioned her, reluctantly explaining when I pressed her for more
detail.

"I didn't know whether it would work in Latin, but it had to be in
your language, otherwise there'd be no cure for you. The Morrigan is
hard to tickle in any tongue, even my own. Yours..." She shrugged, her
shoulders raw pink from the wet cloth of her tunic. "Your language is
harsh, it lacks many of the words. Still, it was good enough."

"And the geis. What is that?"

"My fate. I am fated to stay with you." Truth and lie together. She
was doomed to stay with me. Doom is not so fine a thing as fate.





JF







.

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