Farris bolted towards the horses, jumping aside as two men carrying a pile of spears almost collided with him.
“Padraig!” called Farris. “If these are your men, order them to stand down until we figure out what’s happening!
Padraig glared down at Farris. “They are, but I’ll do no such thing. The rest of the cavalry battalions are already taking position to flank her. We cannot desert them.” He lowered his visor. “And I’ll slay her myself for what she did in Cruachan.”
In a moment of desperation, Farris leapt towards Padraig. The captain’s mount reared, throwing its rider off balance. Farris grabbed at whatever his hands could reach, reins, saddle, arms, he wasn’t sure what, but the next moment, both he and Padraig were on the ground.
Farris bared his fangs. “Temper your bloodlust for one moment and listen to reason!”
“I’ll have you hanged for this!” spat Padraig. “And I didn’t need another reason to see you dead!”
“It’s a trap, Padraig. She’s left herself exposed, alone, facing the might of the Triad. She must know that we’d ride out to kill her.”
For a painful few seconds, Padraig stared up at Farris kneeling on his chest. The ground beneath them shook with the beat of hooves, indicating that another battalion of cavalry were riding out. But Padraig’s soldiers had dismounted and now stood surrounding the captain and the Simian on the ground. Padraig gritted his teeth, which caused Farris to shift his weight, putting more on the captain’s chest and bringing his face closer to the Human’s. Farris considered what he’d do if Padraig didn’t comply. Could he be justified in restraining him even more?
Eventually, Padraig spoke. “I know you to be a liar and a cheat, Farris. A spy. A thief. On most matters, I’d never trust the likes of you. But when it comes to deception, I know of no one with more experience.”
Farris stepped aside as Padraig sat up to address his soldiers. “We stand down! Until we figure out what’s happening.”
Aislinn Carríga stood with those of the battalion, but she was facing out towards the clearing.
“Captain,” she said, her voice quivering. “Look!”
***
Fionn ran as fast as he could to catch up with the vanguard. His heart pumped in his chest, as a force unlike anything he had felt before seemed to take over his body, forcing his legs to move as fast as he could, as if he were lighter than ever.
The thrill of battle runs through your veins, laughed Sir Bearach. You have the blood of a warrior in you, lad!
Fionn found he couldn’t focus on much more than the pounding of his feet against the ground. Stumps of tree trunks raced past him as he made his way halfway across the field. Squinting through the fading evening’s light, some fifty or so yards ahead of him, the vanguard met Morrígan.
A fierce gust of wind came from where she stood, knocking Fionn to the ground and throwing those closer to her up into the air. Within the swirling blast, dozens of cries and shouts rang out. Through the chaos, the young girl walked past the parting of bodies as they were tossed aside like rag dolls.
Fionn slowly stood, finding others around him doing the same. Ahead of him, another group of soldiers charged at Morrígan, dozens of pikes in a row.
The girl barely reacted. In an instant, great pillars of fire burst around her, consuming those who stood their ground.
“No,” muttered Fionn. The dying men cried out; voices made shrill with agony. Fionn gritted his teeth and found his feet. He pointed his hands out towards the inferno.
It’s just Pyromancy, he said to himself, finding the flames ahead of him in his fingers.
He felt the heat in his hands and let roar the fire of his own soul. Rionach’s theorems and formulae ran through his head, and Fionn muttered their calculations.
But something didn’t add up.
The transfer of heat through the air was wrong, somehow. But Fionn didn’t have time to figure out why, for another swirl of fire came hurling towards him. He gritted his teeth and reached out to the flames, quelling them before they approached him.
He broke into a sprint towards the strewn bodies of dazed, disorientated soldiers. Three more swirling twisters of fire surrounded Morrígan. None dared come near her now, as she slowly walked forward, surrounded by flames that barely touched the black feathers of her cloak.
Fionn ran forward, reaching out to the flames. He roared with effort as something was preventing him from quelling these as easily as the first. Injured soldiers on the ground nearby looked up at him, eyes wide and mouths open in awe at the one person who was standing against this unstoppable force.
What’s wrong? cried Sir Bearach. Is she fighting back?
Not quite, thought Fionn. Beads of sweat ran down his brow as he barely gained control of the flames. It’s something else.
His energy drained from his body far quicker than he was used to. But with another grunt of effort, there, he gained hold of the three pillars of flame. He yelled out loud as he forced the last drops of power of his soul into them, causing them to vanish into the warm air.
You did it, lad! Well done!
Fionn fell to his knees with exhaustion, but the other soldiers, seeing this defiance, stood, and made another charge at Morrígan.
It’s no use, thought Fionn. The air… the earth… none of it feels right. A realisation came over him. She has full command of them all. Every particle of the soil… every drop of vapour in the air. They’re hers now.
Overhead, clouds quickly formed, centring on Morrígan. Spears and arrows shot towards her, ahead of another reckless charge led by the General-Commander himself, but each missed, as if steered away at the last minute.
Then the clouds burst, and more soldiers fell, writhing in pain. With horror, Fionn saw that it was not rain that fell from the clouds, but long icicles, sharp like knives.
Quickly, Fionn crawled away from the fight, still not strong enough to stand. An icicle struck the ground mere inches from his head.
This is folly, thought Fionn. How many has she killed already? How many more can we spare?
Look! cried Sir Bearach. Between the trees, outside the clearing! The cavalry is encircling her!
The dead knight spoke these words with glee, as if excited for the outcome. But Fionn did not share his optimism.
Other soldiers attempted to flee, but the rain of icicles widened, and more men fell.
Then, Morrígan’s eyes met Fionn’s.
