“True,” said Farris. “But I never would have thought to show you that if it wasn’t for you telling me about what mages can and cannot manipulate. I never would have realised beggar’s flames fall into the latter, if Fionn hadn’t tried to manipulate them back in the Glenn.”
A silence hung over the party as Farris said this. Eventually, Fionn spoke.
“Nicole, did your Reapers play a big role in fighting back the horde?”
Nicole nodded. “The Saltgate eventually fell to undead trolls, but they were held off for time by the brave pilots of the Reapers.” She went to speak more, but her voice cracked. Farris knew why, so broke in.
“The horde was defeated because Argyll killed Diarmuid,” he said. “And this gave Morrígan what she had come for. But more, indeed, many more, may have been killed by the horde if not for Nicole’s Reapers. From what we know about Morrígan, she would have killed everyone in Penance to get to Diarmuid.”
A lull fell over the group. The fire within the hearth turned from blue back to its natural colour, crackling away upon its coals. From both Nicole and Fionn’s expression, Farris reckoned both were having the same realisation: things would be much worse if not for them.
If not for us. He took a deep drink, then poured another glass. Padraig held out his own empty one too, which Farris happily filled.
“What do you mean?” asked Padraig, taking a short sip. “When you say, ‘from what you know about Morrígan?’ to what do you refer?”
Farris threw his gaze to the floor, and a quick wave of fear passed over him. Something from the tone of Padraig’s question shook Farris, as if he was abruptly caught out in a lie. After a few bated breaths, his panic passed, for there was no lie he was caught in, no secret exposed.
“I can answer that,” cut in Fionn, before Farris could fully collect himself. “Though it is a long story.”
Padraig leaned forward. Nicole cocked her head, glancing at Farris. From these reactions alone, it seemed Fionn had little choice to tell the tale, lengthy may it be.
“Over a year ago now,” he began. “I travelled aboard a ship named The Glory of Penance, from Cruachan to Penance. The ship crashed into the Glenn, and Farris, myself, and some other survivors were set upon by hungry beadhbhs. We escaped them, and—”
“My brother!” cut in Aislinn. “He was aboard that ship! Sir Bearach Carríga of Rosca Umhír. Did you see him?”
Fionn had started with the air of an eager storyteller, but this interjection had the most peculiar effect on him. He did not respond to Aislinn, but murmured unheard words through quivering lips. His head shook slightly back and forward, and he shuffled as he sat.
Caught out on a lie? wondered Farris. It didn’t seem so. This seemed somehow… worse. Fionn placed a hand on the side of his neck, rubbing and squeezing at his skin. This was often an attempt to comfort oneself: a common response to stress. Farris watched on as he did this, his oversized hand almost large enough to cover his entire neck.
Of course, realised Farris. That is the arm of the knight we travelled with. He announced as much to the Council of the Triad. He glanced at Aislinn. And she was not there. She does not know.
Farris closed his eyes to try and recollect the other details of the journey. They travelled together. Yes, those two and Slaíne the White. Did they know each other prior?
And there were the connections Farris had made back in Penance: Fionn claiming the procedure of attaching the knight’s arm to his body also gave him the power of the Bearach’s soul, empowering his own magic as a result. This magic, Necromancy, being the very same that Morrígan used to grow her strength. It was this revelation that had driven Farris to rescue King Diarmuid and Padraig from Cruachan.
Well, the latter was unintentional.
So many memories and connections surfaced at the front of Farris’s mind that for a moment he struggled to recall what had even prompted them to do so. He looked back towards Aislinn.
Yes, he thought. She had asked a simple question of Fionn.
If Fionn’s delayed response was caused by a storm similar to what presently raged in Farris’s mind, perhaps the lad just needed some help in the telling.
“He was, my lady,” said Farris, keeping his tone formal. “But Sir Bearach died a hero’s death. On our journey from the Glenn, our party was ambushed by a mountain troll. We fled for our lives, towards a village at first, but Sir Bearach steered us away, into the fields of the Clifflands. The beast caught up and knocked me aside. Our path had unfortunately crossed with that of a family of villagers, tending to their crops, even before the sun had risen. But Sir Bearach was a knight true to vows and put the lives of the innocent and the weak before his own. He died, along with many others of our party, but he saved the lives of myself, Fionn, and a young girl from the village.”
A silence hung after he finished. Aislinn’s eyes were closed.
“You are wrong about one thing,” said Fionn, his gaze locked on the floor. “The young girl neither weak nor innocent. For she was Morrígan.”
Padraig swore under his breath upon hearing this, then drank deeply from his glass. Aislinn bowed her head, and Nicole’s expression gave away no emotion nor reaction.
“I met her,” said Fionn. “Briefly, before I left Roseán. The girl had just lost her mother, and questioned me endlessly on the purpose of our journey. I have no doubt she blamed me for her death. And the next time I saw her, she was marching on Penance, leading an undead horde.”
“And now she’s a god,” said Farris. “She’s killed two of the Trinity already, what hope do we have to stop her from taking the power of the third?”
“I don’t know,” said Fionn. “It is said that the Wraiths of Seletoth serve Him directly. Perhaps they too are aware of the threat Morrígan poses to Him.”
Farris scoffed. “You’re not seriously saying we’re going all this way to help the Wraiths, after everything they’ve done?”
Fionn sighed deeply. “I don’t know. We need all the help we can get, but I didn’t want to risk the lives of more soldiers in getting it. If these Wraiths have already given their lives to serve the Lord, why not allow them to continue doing so, for an even greater good?”
“Let’s hope the Lord Himself has a better answer than that,” said Padraig with a yawn. “Otherwise, we’ll just end up repeating what happened out in Dromán.”
This brought a deep lull to the group, which continued for a time as the fire died down.
“It is time we rested,” said Aislinn, getting to her feet. “We may as well make use of the inn-quality bedding on this journey while we can.”
Fionn yawned too, as if in agreement. He bade the others good night, and made his way to the stairway, behind Aislinn. Nicole then stood but left without saying a word.
Farris stretched, then stood to follow, but Padraig stopped him.
“Farris,” he said solemnly. “I just wanted to… thank you, for all you have done. You stopping the charge of my battalion at Dromán marked the third time you saved my life. Even after you rescued me from Cruachan, I still wished you dead. A feeling I had assumed was mutual, but when the horde came to Penance, and then when Morrígan came to Dromán, you proved otherwise.”
Farris nodded. In truth, he had only sought to keep Diarmuid alive those first two times. But the third….
“You are welcome,” said Farris. “I had no intention of going on this journey. With the Lady dead, I saw my role in all this come to an end. To follow Fionn into death, when he himself cannot die, seemed redundant. Illogical, even. But when you pledged your sword to Fionn, despite all that had happened, it made me reconsider. Perhaps me saving you in Dromán was illogical. But I can’t claim to have had a logical mind that day. Skies above, when the army was swallowed by the ground, I went down to kill Meadhbh myself.”
Padraig guffawed. “You what?”
