What does it matter, said Sir Bearach. Can’t we just defeat her without understanding her motive.
That is true, said Fionn. But if we do, how do we prevent something like this from happening again?
The knight had no response to this. Fionn understood. To think that something as horrible as this was not only unstoppable, but repeatable even if they did… it was an unsettling thought.
***
This certainly wasn’t built for comfort, thought Farris, squinting through the thin slit of his helm. It frustrated him how he had to move his entire head to see what was to his left and to his right. But perhaps the discomfort was worth it. Between this armour, the pair of daggers held at his waist, and the short sword across the small of his back, he felt almost as invincible as he would have been had he too been born from King Diarmuid’s loins.
He threw a glance towards Nicole, still wondering why she came. Perhaps she had listened to what he had said the previous night. Or perhaps she was making some sort of strange point in coming. Either way, he felt partially responsible for her presence.
No. If she didn’t want to come, she wouldn’t have come. She’s made that much clear before.
Soon, a settlement became visible through the trees of the Hazelwood. There was one building, circular in shape, with walls of thick, timber logs and a heavily thatched roof. Snow lay in a delicate layer atop the building, like the icing of a cake.
Other structures came into view as they approached. Their architecture was similar, built in an almost-perfect circle around the first.
As they entered the settlement, Farris called out, “Hello! Is there anyone here?”
Though a quick scan of the settlement’s skyline told Farris that it was indeed uninhabited, as with the temperature being what it was, surely there would be a fire burning somewhere nearby if not.
They dismounted their horses in front of the main building, which held the letters Hunter’s Den above the door. It was unusual, for an inn to claim the title of an entire settlement. True enough to what Padraig had said earlier, this place was certainly built with hunters in mind, as stables with ample space were available to house their mounts.
Evening was starting to set in. It had crept up on the party over these past few hours. Without being able to follow the path of the sun behind the blanket of thick, grey clouds overhead, Farris found it hard to keep track of the passage of time.
“Does anyone want a drink?” said Farris, approaching the front door of the inn. “I doubt the horde would have taken the ale here with them.”
He pushed open the double doors of the inn, revealing the most splendid of sights. He stood before a huge, circular chamber. Long, wooden tables curved with the shape of the room, with cushioned chairs on the inside, and cushioned stools on the outside. In the centre, several taller tables stood, high stools reaching up to meet them.
But one thing caught Farris’s attention more than all this. Against the far wall was a bar of black slate. Behind it, shelves held ceramic and glass bottles of various shapes and sizes, each with paper labels.
“They’ve thainol!” called Farris, as the others came in. “I didn’t think we’d find any this far from Penance or Cruachan.”
The others walked through the tavern with wonder. Hunting trophies of stags, boars and beadhbhs hung on the wall, some stuffed and mounted, others bearing only their bones.
“I could do with a drink,” said Padraig. “Given all that’s happened.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” said Aislinn. “We have many miles to travel in the morning.”
“And we’ll travel them all the same,” he replied. “If anything, it’ll help us sleep through this blasted cold.” He looked to Fionn, then towards an empty fireplace against another wall of the tavern. “Firemaster, your talents are required.”
Fionn smiled, and quickly went to work. Well, it wasn’t what one could exactly call ‘work,’ since he set the hearth ablaze in a matter of seconds. Farris perused the bottles of thainol, pulling down one that was equal parts rare and expensive. Better to enjoy it here, he reckoned, than let it go to waste.
Padraig held a cup under one of the beer taps, but nothing was produced upon turning it on. He frowned and tried again.
“The line might need tending to,” said Farris. “They often keep barrels in the basement, but I’m not well versed in how the pumps work.”
He poured a second glass of thainol and passed it to Padraig. “Maybe this will do instead.”
Padraig considered the glass for a moment. “The last time I was offered thainol, the horde was laying siege on the Grey Keep. It’s not a memory I’d like to recall.”
Farris pushed the glass closer. “Then see this as an opportunity to associate the taste with the end of the world instead.”
Padraig smiled and took the glass in his hands.
“If you say so,” he said. “But I’ll drink this one slowly.”
The rest gathered around the fire. Nicole and Aislinn had found their way into the pantry and brought out salted meats and fish to cook over the fire, which they had with roasted broccoli and turnips. Padraig had found a sack of potatoes, a bag of onions, along with cured sausages, bacon, and carrots, from which he made a strange, watery stew seasoned with parsley. It was a dish of the people of Cruachan, he claimed, though Farris found it rather tasteless. It tasted a lot better with bread, claimed Padraig, upon seeing the meagre reception his dish was getting. Which was a shame, for the bread was all they lacked, it being the only food that had spoiled in the pantry.
After they ate, Fionn offered to clean the dishes, to which Padraig asked, “And for whom are we cleaning them for?” which was met with laughter, even from Farris. Sure, Farris hated the man to his very bones, but he was happy to cast those thoughts aside, at least for the time being.
Farris opened a bottle of thainol and offered it to the rest of the party. Nicole and Padraig both accepted it, presumably since neither were a stranger to the taste. This prompted Aislinn and Fionn to try too.
“This isn’t the first time Farris offered me this stuff,” said Fionn. “Do you remember, Farris? Back in the Glenn, when you were known as Chester?”
Farris smiled. “I do. You told me about how Pyromancy works. Then I showed you a beggar’s flame.”
“Beggar’s flame?” said Aislinn. “What’s that?”
“I’ll show you,” said Farris. He drank from his glass, downing most of its contents, then tossed the rest into the fire. Sure enough, the crackling red flames abruptly turned a bright blue, burning silently in the hearth.
“Blue fire,” said Aislinn. “Just like… the Reapers.”
“That’s right,” said Farris. “In fact, it was my conversation with Fionn that inspired that aspect of the Reapers’ design.”
“What?” said Nicole. “Didn’t you show me how to make those flames back in the hanger?”
Farris’s heart pounded. It was the first time she had spoken to him since they had left.
