~ Chapter XVII ~
Maiden of the Mountain

Deep, dreamless sleep awaited Fíohra when she returned to her room, exhausted by the events of the day. It took both the increasing light of the dragonfire torches and the insistent banging of the wardrobe doors to wake her the next morning. Though she held out the hope that the day might pass without word from either of her tutors, she reluctantly dressed herself in the heavy leather jerkin provided by the wardrobe, just in case.

Her preparation was not in vain. To her chagrin, her breakfast was interrupted minutes later by a knock at the door.

"Are you awake, little one?" Maeleth's voice echoed through the stone chamber.

Fíohra groaned. She wished more than anything that the maeleachlainn would let her skip her lessons for the day, if only to give her muscles a little more time to recover. As it was, she felt about as stiff as a plank and nearly as enthusiastic. But something—whether it was the memory of Morogh's honesty or her own scruples in the matter—would not allow Fíohra to remain silent and deceive the maeleachlainn into thinking she was still asleep.

"Aye," she grumbled, licking the last of her porridge from her spoon. Heaving herself to her feet, she deposited the remains of her breakfast in the wardrobe, trusting it to dispose of the dishes by whatever means it chose. Giving her shoulders a resigned little shake, she faced the door. "Aye," Fíohra said again, louder this time. "I'm ready."

~o~

The day passed much as Fíohra had feared. Maeleth worked her hard, reviewing what she had learned with the longsword and dagger the day before. After hours of practice, it allowed her a short break, only to resume a few minutes later with an introduction to the bow and arrow. She watched as her tutor demonstrated stringing the bow and fitting the arrow, then clapped her hands in amazement as it struck the center of a wooden target set up at the far end of the armory. Satisfied with its aim, Maeleth unstrung the bow and handed it to Fíohra.

"Do you remember what I taught you yesterday, child?" it asked, removing the quiver from its back and placing it on the ground next to its charge.

Fíohra frowned and retraced the steps in her memory as she accepted the bow. It was as tall as she was and beautifully carved of a single yew stave. She felt the well-oiled bowstring and suddenly remembered. "Know your weapon," she answered.

Maeleth nodded. "Indeed." It bent to remove a single arrow from the quiver and handed it to Fíohra. "I will leave you to study these for a few minutes. I have something for you."

Fíohra accepted the arrow with a surprised expression. "Really?" She wondered if she had heard right, finding it hard to picture any sort of present from the stern maeleachlainn. "What is it?"

But Maeleth was already moving towards the door and did not answer. Fíohra shrugged and fingered the articles in her hands. I suppose I find out soon enough. In the meantime, she figured she might as well do as he suggested. Fíohra laid the bow on the stone floor and sat next to it, examining the arrow. It was as long as her arm, perfectly straight and capped with a stone arrowhead. The fletching was of a strange, coppery sort of feather that Fíohra did not recognize. They sparkled in the torchlight as she ran her finger along the shaft. The fletching was as soft as liquid to the touch, and it sent an involuntary shiver up her arm.

"Phoenix feathers." Maeleth's voice cut through her musings and she looked up. Her tutor stood next to her, a cloth-wrapped basket in it hand. Its stone eyes were fixed on the arrow. "Endues the shot with great speed and accuracy," it continued, looking down at her as she scrambled to her feet. "But they do not entirely supplant the skill of the archer—which is why you must practice." Maeleth set the basket it was carrying on the ground and extended its hand to Fíohra to receive the weapon. She gave them over willingly, forgetting her wonder for the phoenix feathers in her curiosity.

"What's that?" she asked, nodding to the basket.

Maeleth slipped the arrow back into its quiver and strapped it over its shoulder. "Your lunch," it answered simply. "There is much left to learn today, and I may only keep you until an hour after noon. Then you must join the maeleachlainn of the carraiglas for your training there. We must make the most of our time."

Fíohra's heart fell. She had been looking forward to a restful hour or two back in her rooms before descending to the stables to study with Maelail. But that—along with leisurely breakfasts and un-stiff muscles—was apparently a thing of the past. Resigning herself to the maeleachlainn's schedule, she uncovered the basket and set upon her lunch of bread, goat's cheese and dried fish.

She had the feeling it was going to be a long day.

~o~

To Fíohra's surprise, it passed more swiftly than she'd dared hope. The bow and arrow was a challenging weapon to master, but she found it a rewarding test of her strength. Maeleth had her first attempt a stringing of the bow, and it strained every muscle she knew she had, and some that she didn't. After three tries, with the sweat standing in beads on her forehead and Maeleth watching with cool approval, she at last succeeded. Then came the notching of the arrow, followed by instruction on how to draw, sight and aim. Fíohra's first shot fell short of the target, but Maeleth nevertheless commended it as a decent attempt. It then led its charge to the middle of the armory and told her to try again.

The hour drifted by in a strange rhythm. Fíohra soon began to understand the feel of the bow in her hand, and once or twice she managed to actually hit the target, much to her surprise. By the time Maeleth announced the end of their lesson together, Fíohra was astonished at her own progress. She followed her tutor down to the carraiglas stables with a new and confident light in her eyes.

Maelail must have perceived the change in its student's attitude from the previous day, for it too wasted no time in gradual instruction. It briefly reviewed the components of the carraiglas' tack before saddling one for itself and ordering Fíohra to do the same. Nervous but eager to prove her worth, she obeyed, lingering over the stalls of a half-dozen massive stone beasts before choosing the smallest one of the lot. It eyed her curiously as she took a deep breath and entered its stall, ready for it to bolt. But it stood placidly as she approached, making no move to run when she hefted the heavy leather saddle over its back. It even obliged to open its iron-toothed mouth when Fíohra slipped the bit over its head. With its assistance, the carraiglas was ready in half the time she had anticipated.

Which left her the trouble of mounting it.

"Oh." She frowned, realizing her dilemma. "Maelail?"

"Yes, child?" it replied, wheeling its carraiglas around to face Fíohra.

She felt her cheeks redden. "I, uh…I can't get up."

Maelail did not laugh. "Of course. That was thoughtless of me." It dismounted and gestured her forward. "Lead it out and I will help you up."

Relieved that her tutor did not find the situation humorous, Fíohra obeyed. Once in the stable aisle, Maelail bent to allow its charge a mounting-post of its knee. Given the aid of the extra height, she clambered atop the carraiglas' wide back and fit her feet into the shortened stirrups, praying that the beast did not bolt. But it stood as still as ever, and for a moment Fíohra wondered if it had felt her presence at all. She certainly did not have the solidity of a maeleachlainn to secure her on the creature's back, and she feared it would take very little to dislodge her from her place.

"Are you ready, little one?" Maelail asked, swinging back up onto its own mount. "We will ride thrice along the length of the hall so you may learn the rhythm of its gait. Then I will lead you into the down to the Central Hall, where you may give a test of your beast's speed." It paused and studied the human child before it. "Is that satisfactory?"

Fíohra gulped. She had not forgotten her first encounter with the carraiglas on the night she was taken from her family. The memory of the rushing wind and dark landscape slipping by on either side assured her that the stone creatures were quite capable of great speed. She needed no new proof of that, nor did she desire it. But there seemed little alternative; if she did not agree to Maelail's curriculum, her entire time of study with the maeleachlainn would be useless. Besides, she reminded herself, Mórdúil wants me to learn. I can't let…I can't show him I'm a coward. Fíohra blinked away sudden tears. Father wouldn't want me to.

"Aye," she answered at last, coming to a decision. "It is."