They had told him, what had happened to Finn. When Shahar went back to Vae, after what had happened to both Darien and Finn, he had been told. He had not thought to see either of them ever again-
The babe he and family took in, or his son.
The battle had ended, somehow he had survived, and now he thought the only thing left to do was go home to Vae so they could both mourn, together. Then Owein's Horn sounded across the field, and the Wild Hunt was summoned.
Shahar knew- he knew to fear them. He had heard what had happened at Celidon, and now there would be No One to stop them- But even that knowledge could not make him stand there, eyes to the sky, hoping for one last glimpse of Finn. Of his son.
He heard the shouts of the soldiers, the order from Arthur, and the boast of Owein- But his eyes were on Iselen's Rider-
Even as the Rider started fighting at his horse, to head his mount away from the battle, to the south.
And Shahar watched as Iselen tossed him- And as Finn fell.
What else can a father do now, but go to his son? His son, returned to him...
If only for a few, last moments, broken, bleeding, and dying on the ground?
Shahar kneels, gathering Finn gently in his arms. "Oh, child..."
There's so much pain that he can barely register it, can barely think (what happened?). More pain than he ever thought he could feel.
And then something--hands--grasp him, and move him, and he knows he was wrong as he has a brief flash of black when the pain trebles for those few moments.
A voice he knows speaks, and brushes aside his hair with familiar calloused hands.
He forces his eyes open, and he stares up into the face.
"Father," he greets him (what else can he do?), with the very little breath he can manage.
It hurts, but the corner of Finn's mouth curls up somewhat, in answer.
He know that resting is only a stopgap--he is not familiar with personal injury, but he's killed enough to know the fall was (will be) fatal. But his father is here, holding him, and it will give him some short comfort.
Finn owes him that much, and more.
He takes another shallow breath, and closes his eyes.
When Leila had lifted the axe, Jaelle knew it. How could the High Priestess not? It is the deepest sacrilege there is.
And it hadn't surprised her at all, somehow.
She had heard -- every priestess in Fionavar had heard -- when Leila had slammed the axe down on the stone altar and ringingly commanded Finn to come to her, drawing on the blood power of Dana's axe. And Jaelle had seen the shadowy figure of the boy
Finn
on his pale horse in the sky begin to ride away.
And she saw him fall.
And she saw the lone Paraiko ride among them, and she saw him bind the Hunt, and she saw them flash away to the south.
And then, only then, does she let hersalf go west to see where Finn lies. She walks at first, but now she runs, wanting, for Leila's sake to be in time. The circlet that holds her hair back falls, and she does not stop to retrieve it.
There is a death in it she had said, the last time this link had been forged.
She is the High Priestess of Goddess in Fionavar, and what she said is true.
The circlet that holds her hair back has fallen off, as she runs.
Paul pauses to pick it up, as he follows her, more slowly; why, he's not sure.
Perhaps it's only delay. Putting off, for one more instant, the sight of what has become of this boy who had spoken to him of his brother with such love; who had become something so cold.
Who has, in more ways than one, saved them all.
He hands the circlet to Jaelle as he comes up behind her, but does not speak. His gaze is fixed on Finn and his father, and, after a moment, he kneels on the stony ground beside them.
Finn is dying. It's easy to see -- his breathing is shallow and difficult, and there is blood at the corners of his mouth. Jaelle lifts an edge of her sleeve and wipes the blood away.
His eyes open at the touch, and she sees a question there -- or imagines she does. She answers it, either way, carefully, speaking as clearly as she can.
"The Hunt has gone. One of the Paraiko came, and he bound them back to the cave by the spell that laid them there."
He nods, carefully. They are gone--they will not ride. He's almost surprised to find sadness in his relief (the kings of the sky are under the ground once more), but he does not have the energy to consider it, not now.
There are more important questions to ask.
He takes a careful, shaking breath. "What I did was all right, then?"
Leaving his brother, his mother, and his self to join Hunt. And then leaving Owein, his brother kings, and fair Iselen as well.
The babe he and family took in, or his son.
The battle had ended, somehow he had survived, and now he thought the only thing left to do was go home to Vae so they could both mourn, together. Then Owein's Horn sounded across the field, and the Wild Hunt was summoned.
Shahar knew- he knew to fear them. He had heard what had happened at Celidon, and now there would be No One to stop them- But even that knowledge could not make him stand there, eyes to the sky, hoping for one last glimpse of Finn. Of his son.
He heard the shouts of the soldiers, the order from Arthur, and the boast of Owein- But his eyes were on Iselen's Rider-
Even as the Rider started fighting at his horse, to head his mount away from the battle, to the south.
And Shahar watched as Iselen tossed him- And as Finn fell.
What else can a father do now, but go to his son? His son, returned to him...
If only for a few, last moments, broken, bleeding, and dying on the ground?
Shahar kneels, gathering Finn gently in his arms. "Oh, child..."
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There's so much pain that he can barely register it, can barely think (what happened?). More pain than he ever thought he could feel.
And then something--hands--grasp him, and move him, and he knows he was wrong as he has a brief flash of black when the pain trebles for those few moments.
A voice he knows speaks, and brushes aside his hair with familiar calloused hands.
He forces his eyes open, and he stares up into the face.
"Father," he greets him (what else can he do?), with the very little breath he can manage.
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"Finn." He manages to find a clean spot on the cuff of his shirt, to gently wipe away some of his son's blood.
"Shh. I'm here now, just rest.
"Just rest."
He cannot bring himself to say 'it will be all right'. Shahar cannot lie to his son, even now.
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He know that resting is only a stopgap--he is not familiar with personal injury, but he's killed enough to know the fall was (will be) fatal. But his father is here, holding him, and it will give him some short comfort.
Finn owes him that much, and more.
He takes another shallow breath, and closes his eyes.
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And it hadn't surprised her at all, somehow.
She had heard -- every priestess in Fionavar had heard -- when Leila had slammed the axe down on the stone altar and ringingly commanded Finn to come to her, drawing on the blood power of Dana's axe. And Jaelle had seen the shadowy figure of the boy
Finn
on his pale horse in the sky begin to ride away.
And she saw him fall.
And she saw the lone Paraiko ride among them, and she saw him bind the Hunt, and she saw them flash away to the south.
And then, only then, does she let hersalf go west to see where Finn lies. She walks at first, but now she runs, wanting, for Leila's sake to be in time. The circlet that holds her hair back falls, and she does not stop to retrieve it.
There is a death in it she had said, the last time this link had been forged.
She is the High Priestess of Goddess in Fionavar, and what she said is true.
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The circlet that holds her hair back has fallen off, as she runs.
Paul pauses to pick it up, as he follows her, more slowly; why, he's not sure.
Perhaps it's only delay. Putting off, for one more instant, the sight of what has become of this boy who had spoken to him of his brother with such love; who had become something so cold.
Who has, in more ways than one, saved them all.
He hands the circlet to Jaelle as he comes up behind her, but does not speak. His gaze is fixed on Finn and his father, and, after a moment, he kneels on the stony ground beside them.
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His eyes open at the touch, and she sees a question there -- or imagines she does. She answers it, either way, carefully, speaking as clearly as she can.
"The Hunt has gone. One of the Paraiko came, and he bound them back to the cave by the spell that laid them there."
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There are more important questions to ask.
He takes a careful, shaking breath. "What I did was all right, then?"
Leaving his brother, his mother, and his self to join Hunt. And then leaving Owein, his brother kings, and fair Iselen as well.
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Through the grief and sadness, a small flicker of pride starts glowing.
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But now, he is only a boy again, with is head in his father's lap, dying where he lies.
This is a day of impossible wonders, the least of which the unhidden public tears of the High Priestess.
"It was more than all right, Finn. You did everything right. Every single thing, from the very beginning."
When the wandering fire
Strikes the heart of stone . . .
She sees him smile, and she reaches again to wipe the blood from his mouth with her sleeve.
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"She didn't mean to throw me, you know. She was afraid--she wasn't used to flying so far from the others."
Fainter, but still earnest: "She was only afraid."
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At the moment, it is not possible for him to care any less about a horse of the Wild Hunt.
"Spare your strength."
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His eyes close, and his breathing slows.
He opens them, again, with difficulty and meets Jaelle's gaze.
"Will you tell Leila that I heard her? That I was coming?"
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"I think she knows, Finn. But, yes, I will tell her."
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The pain has not lessened, but the peace is growing as he lies in his father's arms, each breath shallower than the last.
There is still something he needs to ask, though (more important than the others).
He is silent for a long while, saving his energy, before he asks:
"Dari?"
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But Jaelle cannot answer it, cannot physically force the words around the grief that is tight in her throat.
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