From School Library Journal
Grade 6-8-Set against the tribal warfare and religious conflicts of sixth-century Britain, this historical novel tells the story of a girl warrior. Ilena has grown up as a simple villager, trained by her father in the ways of battle. With both of her parents dead, she follows her father's last instructions: "Go to Dun Alyn. Find Ryamen." Not knowing the reasons, she sets out for this neighboring tribal kingdom and has several dangerous adventures. Once there, she locates Ryamen and begins to learn the secrets of her lineage. A power struggle is in progress between the chieftain Belert, a Christian, and his rival Ogern, a Druid who advocates human sacrifice. Without fully understanding why, Ilena finds herself at the center of this struggle. Nonetheless, she assumes the role of a leader and pushes on. A brave follower of King Arthur and a dwarf loyal to Belert come to her aid. A clever plot twist at the end reveals why Ilena is so important to the fortunes of Dun Alyn. There is more than enough here to make an exciting story. Unfortunately, it is told by Ilena in present tense, which seriously weakens the narrative. At times the sentences read like those in a basal text and none of the characters is fleshed out enough for readers to care deeply about them. For truly fine historical fiction about ancient Britain, stick with the novels by Rosemary Sutcliff. This story is for large collections in which historical fiction is in demand.
Bruce Anne Shook, Mendenhall Middle School, Greensboro, NC
Copyright 2002 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Gr. 6-9. First novelist Malone makes some bold choices that mostly succeed in this absorbing historical novel. In the north of sixth-century Britain (now Scotland), 15-year-old Ilena watches her beloved father die soon after returning from one of his regular secret trips. Ilena follows her father's last words to go to Dun Alyn. Armed with her own weapons and a lifetime's training, she soon rescues a man who is a follower of Arthur and who can guide her on her way. Glimpses of the Arthurian tale, scenes of Druids and Christians living side by side but with growing enmity, and a girl's search for her place in the world--one she did not dream of--are richly wrapped about this tale told in the first person, present tense. Characters are warmly drawn; only the villains seem lifeless. GraceAnne DeCandido
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved
Review
You have to become a hero before you can become a legend.
From the Hardcover edition.
From the Inside Flap
ter of Moren and Grenna, has lived in the Vale of Enfert for all of her 15 years, but it is not her true home. Her parents refused to speak about the place they came from or their lineage. After the deaths of both of her parents, her questions remain unanswered. Her father s final words to her provide the single clue: Go to Dun Alyn. Find Ryamen.
Ilena sets out alone on the dangerous trip across Britain, certain only that Dun Alyn
is a fortress somewhere in the East. Her skills as a warrior are tested against raiders from the West and Painted Ones from the Far North, but her most formidable challenge awaits her at Dun Alyn. Will she be able to accept her true identity and fulfill her destiny?
From the Hardcover edition.
From the Back Cover
“[A] quick-moving feminist adventure [that] will captivate fans of Arthurian lore.”
–Publishers Weekly
About the Author
This is Patricia Malone’s first novel. She lives in Illinois.
From the Hardcover edition.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter 1
"Ilena? Are you there?"
The low stool he made for me when I was a child is near his bedplace. I pull it closer and sit beside him.
"I'm here, Moren. What is it?"
"My dream. I saw the hag at streamside."
I feel a chill despite the warm fall sunlight flooding through the open door. "No! Do not think of that. I've sent for Aten. She'll bring stronger herbs."
"It's too late. The old woman washed my clothes in the stream. The water ran red with my blood."
I try to sound confident. "Aten will help. Have a drink of water. Your lips are dry from fever."
My father clutches at my hand with a fumbling motion that tears at my heart. When he is well, his wrists bulge with the muscles of a warrior. He trained me day after day, year after year, until I too could swing the sword with either hand for hours. "Stamina, lass, stamina!" he would say as we practiced. "The battle goes to those who hold out until their opponents falter."
It is agony for me to watch him now that he is weak and helpless, dependent on me to hold the bowl of water, to wipe his face, and to bring the slop jar. I lift his shoulders so that he can sip, then lay him back gently and take his hand in mine.
"I saw her clearly," he says.
Sudden tears blur my vision, and I swipe at them with my free hand. When a warrior dreams of the old woman at the stream, death is near.
Cryner lets out a warning bark from his sunny spot by the front door.
"Ilena?" It's Aten's voice from the path.
I put Moren's hand down on the bedskins and hurry outside.
Aten is the village healer. She and her husband helped us when my parents rode their tired horses over the snow-laden pass into this valley fifteen years ago. I was only a few days old, wrapped tightly against my mother's chest, weak with hunger because her milk wasn't strong enough yet to sustain me. It was Aten who put me to breast at once and saved my life.
Her son, Jon, was two when we came. Her daughter, Fiona, was born a year after we arrived. They are my closest friends in the village, and I'm glad to see that Fiona is with her now.
Cryner greets them and thrusts his head against Fiona's skirt until she stoops to scratch his long hound ears. She pushes him away when he tries to lick her face, and he goes back to resume his nap.
Aten carries her small iron pot filled with medicines. She takes out a handful of plants and three cloth bundles, then hands me the empty kettle. "Get water heating, Ilena. Half-full will do. I'll put these inside where the wind won't take them, and I'll have a look at Moren." She disappears into the house.
"Is it bad?" Fiona is already stirring the outside fire into a blaze.
"I fear so," I answer. "He speaks of seeing the crone at the stream."
She shakes her head. "Not a good sign, that."
I dip water from the barrel by the door and hang the pot over the hottest part of the fire. "I'm glad you came," I say. "I heard the boys return from gathering wood and hailed them. I hoped they would get the message to you quickly."
"Aye. Nol's son ran ahead of the others to tell us, and we left at once."
Aten's face is grim when she comes out of the house. She jostles the iron kettle as if to urge it to heat faster before she turns to me. "His lungs are badly congested. When did he get home?"
"Just before sunset yesterday," I reply. "I heard him coming and ran out to meet him. He was slumped over his horse's neck and could not raise himself enough to greet me. I caught him as he slid from the saddle, and I could feel the fever.
"I got him into his bedplace and prepared a strong tea of pennyroyal and thyme. It lowered the fever, but he would not eat. He slept fitfully through the night and seemed no better this morning."
Aten jostles the pot again and watches steam begin to rise. She says, "I'll mix something stronger. It may loosen his breathing."
"The trip to the East again?" Fiona asks.
I nod. "It was difficult for him last year, and I begged him not to go this time. But he said that he was expected."
"He has aged in the two years since Grenna died," Aten says.
I look up to the hill above the house. I can see the cairn that we built on my mother's grave. I wonder how long it will be before another is raised beside it to mark my father's resting place. I blink back tears.
Aten puts her arms around me. "Do not weep, Ilena. We'll work hard to help him."
"Tell her about the dream," Fiona says.
"The death dream of a warrior," I say. "He saw the crone."
"We'll not give up yet." Aten too looks toward my mother's grave before she carries the hot water into the house.
They stay with me through the afternoon, but I shake my head when Fiona offers to spend the night. "Thank you, but I will be fine."
"Are you sure?" Aten asks.
"You have your own chores. Come in the morning when you can," I say, "and thank you."
Fiona lingers at the door when Aten leaves. "I could keep you company."
I walk out into the yard with her. "I know you plan to go to the singing," I say.
On summer evenings the other young people meet in a grove of trees near the end of the valley. I can hear the pipes and sometimes the laughter from up here on the slope. When we were small, I often joined Jon and Fiona. We would lurk about with the other children, spying on courting couples and dancing in our own little circles.
As I grew older, Jon's attentions toward me changed, and Moren found more and more reasons why I should stay at home in the evenings. When I became a woman, he forbade me to go to the singings at any time.
"Your destiny is not in this valley, lass," he said when I complained, but he would not explain what he meant.
Fiona says, "Of course I was planning to go, but I will stay here if you need me."
"I thank you for offering, but there is one who would miss you if you did not appear at the gathering."
She smiles and her cheeks flush. "Yes, he would," she says, "but we'll have many years together."
"Is it settled then?" I can't imagine choosing someone to live with forever.
She nods. "My father has agreed. We'll be married in the spring." She hesitates, then says, "Are you sure you will not consider Jon? My brother is a fine man."
"Yes, he is," I say. "And he is my friend. But I am not ready for marriage."
"But you are older than I." She shakes her head.
From the Hardcover edition.
