Her mind dozed off to a shallow sleep as the hours drifted by, despite the arrhythmic beat of the gate outside.
***
Her dreams were formless and intangible, as if her sleeping mind was too exhausted to conjure up anything solid. When she woke to the sounds of voices outside, all Morrígan could remember from her dreams was a bathing blue light, pulsating and penetrating through her soul.
She pushed those visions aside as she focused on her surroundings. It was much later now, and the light of the moon had vanished, replaced by a darkness thicker than before.
Her bedroom door swung open; Yarlaith the White stood in its frame.
“They’ve found us,” he said, his voice low and calm. “Grab what you can and run.”
There was terror in his eyes, like none Morrígan had ever seen. A loud crash came from downstairs, and the sounds of men shouting and roaring filled the room.
She leapt from her bed and threw her beadhbh cloak over her head. Then she shoved her feet into a pair of leather boots on the floor.
Outside her room, at the end of the landing, three men dressed in red cloaks appeared, balls of fire clenched in their fists. They were joined by two Geomancers, standing at the top of the stairs. With a bang, the door shut, leaving Morrígan alone in the room.
“Run!” screamed Yarlaith from the other side.
Morrígan scrambled across the bed and pulled herself onto the window ledge, stealing one last look.
Does this make me a coward? She pushed the window open and looked down. A cobblestone path meandered out from the front door, curving to the High Road below and leaving a soft patch of grass several yards from the window. Across the green, a crowd gathered at the gate: men and women from the village along with battlemages, all huddled under the light of raised torches.
Morrígan dove from the window, rolling as she hit the grass. More villagers appeared down the road, striding from the direction of the chapel and blocking Morrígan’s only means of escape. Luckily, they had yet to see her, and she knew a short cut to the Low Road.
A cheer erupted from the crowd as the two Geomancers kicked open the door to present Yarlaith the White, his hands bound behind his back.
Morrígan spotted a Hydromancer searching around the back of the house. She pulled the hood of her beadhbh cloak up and ran to the end of the High Road. A fence of rotted wood blocked the way, where a twenty-foot drop led down to the Low Road and the Reardon Forge.
A voice called out through the night as she jumped, but Morrígan didn’t look back. She swung herself around the highest branch of a tree and landed below without making a sound. Over her head, a group of men with torches peered down from the ledge. Fortunately, Morrígan found her feet quickly and set off down the Low Road.
The houses along the way were vacant, many with their doors left wide open. Morrígan ran through the silence, thinking about what she should do next.
Do I run? Will I confess? Will I just hide up in the Glenn and live amongst the bears and the beadhbhs ’til the end of my days? From the look of things, it didn’t seem like she had any other options.
As she turned the final corner, past the butcher’s shop into the Square, she skidded to a halt, scratching her heels along the ground. A huge crowd of people had gathered in the centre of the village, and they all looked on as Colonel Eodadh addressed them from atop the stone well. A line of Pyromancers stood behind him; mages dressed in green pulled two large wooden stakes upright with Geomancy.
Morrígan almost let out a cry of shock.
Two stakes. They mean to burn me too.
“Darkness has fallen over this community!” boomed the colonel, venom and fury in his voice. “But it is not from a foreign enemy. The Simians, who spit at our Gods and our faith, are not the ones who have brought us to arms tonight, but a man! What say you, who have lived amongst a heathen: should he be punished in the sight of Gods and men?”
The crowd roared. Some men clutching farm implements in their hands, raising them as they cried.
“He’s a sinner! Let the Gods punish the sins of Man!”
“Burn the heretic!”
Why won’t anyone defend him? Morrígan spotted Fearghal and Mr. Cathain chanting with the rest. The Reardon brothers stood at the back of the crowd, their fists held high in the air. Morrígan tried to find other familiar faces amongst the villagers, but many of their features were warped and twisted with anger, distorted beyond recognition. There were some children amongst the rabble, too, clutching their parents’ hands as they added their voices to the chorus.
From the opposite side of the Square, Morrígan saw the mob march down from the High Road past the chapel, with the tiny figure of Yarlaith the White shuffling in front of them.
Two stakes. The thought of attempting to free her uncle flared in her mind again. She could do some damage, perhaps, but Morrígan knew that the rest of the battalion, and indeed the villagers, could overwhelm her in seconds.
He wanted me to run. He wanted me to leave him.
As soon as she turned her back on the crowd and slipped down the Sandy Road, she accepted that she was a coward.
It won’t end here. I’ll recover the notes; I’ll hide deeper in the cave, away from the prying eyes of the Gods.
She climbed over the wall and sprinted across the fields, tears beginning to fill her eyes. The mountains of the Glenn loomed overhead as she ran, her chest burning with every breath. She paused and looked back. From here, she saw the Square, the gathered crowd, and the now burning stake.
But clearer than anything else, she heard the triumphant cheers of the villagers.
“No!” Morrígan shrieked. She dropped to her knees, unable to hold her own weight. With a barrage of sobs, she buried her face in her hands, and her world went dark.
“He dedicated his life to saving yours!” Her voice was hoarse, and only a thin column of rising smoke responded. “He mended your bones… cured your ailments… he healed your wounds!” She thought of all the people he had treated: Mr. Cathain’s leprosy, Ciarán’s buboes, Mr. Mhurichú’s smallpox and his wife’s consumption….
He never asked for anything in return, not once. He gave them a life of health and happiness, and this is how they repay him.
Her fists tightened. Rage and despair ripped through her soul, and the pendulum hanging from her heart grew heavier than ever. Morrígan paused, recalling a memory from earlier that night, when she had succeeded at something a group of fully trained Geomancers could not even attempt.
There might still be time.
She squinted, reaching for her power, and felt the cold, coarse touch of Geomancy upon her fingertips.
Her eyes concentrated on the flaming stake. So far away. She reached out her arms and flexed her wrists, forcing her emotions into her hands.
It won’t be as heavy as the troll. Further, yes, but not as heavy.
She stood in silence, reaching, touching, feeling through the air and across the field. Her power groped along what felt like the cold stone of the Square, punctuated with tiny shrubs and plants that had forced their way up through the cracks… and there.
She found it, hot and heavy, the wood from the flaming stake burning between her fingers. She pictured herself grabbing it with giant, iron fists, and pulled.
The force of the stake’s weight refused to give way. Gritting her teeth and planting her heels firmly into the ground, she started to feel the base of the stake shift. She heard shrieks and gasps from the village as the burning wood began to tilt.
Morrígan held her breath and forced all of her might into one last heave, and like a burning harpoon, the stake shot towards the hills with an explosion of fire and splinters.
Morrígan opened her eyes. The stake was jammed into the ground next to her, the old man still tied to it.
“Yarlaith!”
His waist and legs were black and burned, bubbling with bloody blisters and charred bone.
He groaned. “Strong… please… take… take me down to her.”
Morrígan crouched to lift the old man over one shoulder. Still attached to the stake, Yarlaith moaned in pain as Morrígan rose to her feet. She gritted her teeth as she stood, then turned her gaze back towards the village.
