It is well known that Keep Carríga is an impenetrable fortress, but I beg of you to please meet this force with your own army. The soldiers of Rosca Umhír do not fall in battle easily, and their numbers will serve the kingdom far better in open combat than defending your gates.
My time is short. I do not expect us to hold out for the night. My city cannot be saved, and the Clifflands are already lost, but you can still fight. There is hope, as long as you fight.
Crystal wave sent from Earl Broin of Ardh Sidh to Earl Carríga of Rosca Umhir.
***
The meagre council of the Triad looked on in awe at the vagrant whom Farris had plucked from the refugee camps. A rough sponge-bath and a clean shave made him presentable enough, but the man’s eyes were still those of a madman, and the perfumes of the bathhouse did little to remove the stench of alcohol from his breath.
The Silverback cleared his throat, grabbing the attention of all who were present. Garth leaned casually against the back wall, while Nicole sat forward in her seat, staring at the man from the camps. Fionn stood with his arm forward, his lips pursed together in thought.
“After thoroughly questioning Penance’s newest arrivals,” said the Silverback, “we have learned little more than nothing. The dead descended on Point Grey three nights ago and massacred its people in a matter of minutes. Relatively few managed to escape. Those that did brought some information of the enemy to us, but nowhere near as much we would need to retaliate. As for where this army came from, all we know for sure is that they are led by a single individual. An individual this man claims to be his daughter.”
Argyll threw an expectant glance at the newcomer. The man nodded curtly and spoke.
“M-my… name is Cormac Ó Branna,” he said, stammering through each word as he went. His body was shaking, but from fear of what he’d seen or nerves over whom he was speaking to, Farris could not tell.
“I come from a small village near the cliffs,” he continued. “Roseán, it was called. I had a wife and daughter there, but I left them a year ago… and I’ve lived in Point Grey ever since.”
“Where were you on the night the dead came?” asked Argyll. The lack of emotion in his words made Farris wonder if he truly understood what this man had gone through.
“I was at the inn,” he said. “I… my friend came into some money a while back, see, and he bought an inn in Point Grey. I was living there, at the time. I guess it was around midnight when I heard people screaming first. I didn’t know what to expect. I’ve heard talk of the….”
His voice trailed off, and his gaze fell to the floor.
“You heard talk of what?” asked Argyll.
“S-simians,” he stammered. “Not to offend, but the king was getting ready for a war with Penance. I assumed it was the Simians when the screaming started.”
None had a response to this, but Nicole shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Farris pretended not to notice, though it was clear what she was thinking.
It could very well have been us.
“Anyway,” Cormac continued. “I ran from the inn and went along with the crowd. They were headed to the waterfront. People were saying it was the only way we could escape, and I didn’t question them.
“But the dead… they came pouring over us, from either side. The town… it was surrounded. Surrounded before they even attacked. People all around me were being butchered. Women and children too. I could have stopped, I could have helped someone, but I kept running. I just kept running.
“I don’t know how, but I made it onto a ship. It was crowded, sure, but it was safe. The village was burning by the time the anchor was lifted. I could smell the flesh….”
“And your daughter,” said Argyll. “When did you see her?”
Cormac was sobbing now, with tears visible on his cheeks. “Just as we were sailing away. She was there, on the pier. Watching us leave. I don’t know if she saw me, but Gods above and below, I saw her.”
The story ended there, and the room fell silent for a moment.
“You said you left your family a year ago,” said Nicole, her voice cracking slightly as she spoke. “What happened?”
As if the horrors of the undead hadn’t been enough, this question ignited a stronger reaction in Cormac than any Argyll had asked. Cormac almost shrieked in response, and he buried his face in his hands.
“It was harvest season,” he said, sobbing wildly. “We were out in the field, and out of nowhere… there was a troll.”
Farris’s heart sank.
No. Not the same. It can’t be the same.
He looked over to Fionn, whose face had turned a deathly pale, his mouth ajar.
“There were strangers,” continued Cormac. “They tried to fight the troll off and—”
“That was us,” said Fionn, an air of defiance in his voice. “Our ship crashed into the Glenn, and we escaped across the fields of the Clifflands. The troll followed us from the valley.” He threw a glance at Farris. “Tell them, Chester. Tell them about Slaíne, Sir Bearach and the others.”
“Chester?” asked Nicole. “Farris, what’s he talking about?”
Farris fumed with rage. Although more than twelve moons ago, the pressure and anxiety of that mission was still fresh in his mind. The lies, the effort, the charade of pretending to be the Simian he had killed….
“You know far less than you let on, boy,” said Farris, trying hard to keep a straight face. “You’re in deeper than you should ever be, and you still have no idea what’s really going on.”
“Enough,” growled Argyll. “None of this has any bearing on our present situation. Cormac, you claim that your child led the undead horde. Tell me, what could have led her down this path?”
“I… I have no idea,” said Cormac. “All I know is that she went to live with my brother, Yarlaith the White. He’s the—”
“Village healer,” said Fionn, raising his oversized arm. “He saved my life. The man knows his trade well.”
A sudden shadow seemed to appear over Fionn’s face. His eyes stared off into the distance. “No,” he muttered, as if answering a question that was not asked. “That couldn’t be, it….”
“Speak, lad,” said Argyll. It wasn’t a request.
“Necromancy,” whispered Fionn. “I have reason to believe Yarlaith was involved with Necromancy: the manipulation of the dead.”
