All through that day the carpenters worked, while the mages squatted on the ground or prowled around the growing tower, issuing instructions.
The people of Killorglin stayed away from the marketplace, and that day no stalls were set up.
‘Are they scared of the mages?’ I asked. ‘Is that why there’s no market today?’
‘They’re scared, all right,’ Shey answered. ‘During the construction of the platform, they usually give the area a wide berth. But once the goat is in position, they come back, and the market is busier than ever – though mostly with those buying pots of ale and bottles of wine. Many people get drunk – perhaps to escape the horrors the mages bring to their town. For others it’s one of the two highlights of the year, and everything is taken to excess.’
‘When do you plan to try and snatch one of the mages?’ asked the Spook.
‘At dusk,’ Shey answered. ‘We’ll burn the wooden tower too. No doubt they’ll rebuild it, but that’ll mean bringing fresh materials from Staigue. It’ll set their preparations back a little at least.’
‘Will they use dark magic to defend themselves?’ my master wondered.
‘They may try,’ said Shey, ‘but’ – he gazed at us steadfastly – ‘I have faith in our combined strength. I’m confident of success.’
‘Well, I have my silver chain,’ said the Spook. ‘The boy too. That’ll bind him more securely than any rope.’
A silver chain worked against witches and most mages. It seemed straightforward: we outnumbered the two mages and their workmen, and would have the element of surprise. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Alice’s expression. She looked worried.
‘What’s wrong, Alice?’ I asked.
‘Ain’t binding the mage that bothers me,’ she said. ‘It’s afterwards, when the others find out what’s been done. They’ll come after us – and there’s lots of them.’
‘That’s all been thought through and carefully planned, girl,’ the Spook told her. ‘The captured horses and any other prisoners will be taken southeast, back the way we came. But the four of us, with our special prisoner, are going in another direction – down the coast. There’s a castle there – Ballycarbery, the home of another of the landowners; it’s a strong fortress, where we can question the captive mage in safety.’
The sun went down and, as the light began to fail, it was time for us to act.
Below us, the structure was almost completed: a tall square wooden shaft balanced on the cobbles; at over thirty feet high, it now dominated the market area. It was a remarkable achievement for just one day’s work. The exhausted workmen were packing up their tools while the two mages waited patiently with folded arms, their horses tethered to a post at the far corner. Our men had reported that they had taken rooms in the largest of the inns facing us, and would soon retire there for the night.
We left our vantage point, went downstairs into the street and headed for the edge of the market area, taking care to keep to the shadows. With the Spook and Shey in the lead, we began a slow, stealthy approach, knowing that our armed forces were moving in from behind, cutting off any chance of escape.
Suddenly the tethered horses reared up and whinnied nervously. They must have caught our scent and, instantly alerted, the two mages drew their scimitars and took up a defensive position, back to back. Shey and my master left the shadows and began to charge towards our enemies, with Alice and me close behind them. I could hear shouts of command and other footsteps running through the darkness as our force converged on its target.
The nearest mage raised his weapon, but the Spook cast his silver chain as he ran. With a mighty crack, it soared aloft to form a perfect spiral. It was a good, accurate throw and it dropped over the head and shoulders of the mage, pinning his arms to his sides so that his sword fell to the cobbles with a clatter. So excellent a shot was it that part of the chain tightened about his eyes and mouth so that he could neither see nor speak. Binding the mouth was very important when dealing with a witch capable of uttering dark magical spells. Mages used spells too, so my master had taken no chances.
The other mage whirled round to meet Shey, and there was a metallic rasp as their two blades came together hard. Then the mage cried out, dropped his scimitar and fell hard onto his face; he lay there twitching as the blood started to pool beneath him. The four workmen dropped to their knees with their hands raised above their heads, begging for their lives. Shey’s men were encircling us now, and it was but the work of minutes to bind the carpenters with ropes and lead them and the two horses away.
So while our men prepared to travel southeast towards Killarney, the Spook, Shey, Alice and I took our prisoner in the direction of Ballycarbery Castle near the small town of Cahersiveen.
Once on the road and clear of Killorglin, I glanced back and saw dark smoke and a red glow over the rooftops. Shey’s men were burning the wooden platform; the efforts of the workmen had been in vain. It had gone well, but I couldn’t help but worry that the fire would act like a beacon, drawing our enemies towards the town in force.
BALLYCARBERY APPEARED TO be a strong fortress, with thick stone walls and only one gate which faced west. However, the castle didn’t have a moat with a drawbridge and, from my own experience of such fortifications, it seemed to me that this was a major weakness. It meant that an enemy could approach right up to the ramparts. As a fortress, it had seen better days. Its walls were also overgrown with ivy. Determined attackers could use that to scale the walls.
Still bound with the Spook’s silver chain, the mage was taken down to the dungeons to await interrogation in the morning. We were given comfortable beds in the castle, and wasted no time in settling down to catch up on our sleep. Checking the blood jar before I dozed off, I couldn’t help reflecting that in the past our situation had often been very different. In such fortifications as this we had languished in dark, damp dungeons awaiting death while our enemies had been in a position of power.
I dreamed again – the same nightmare in which I was being pursued by the Morrigan in the shape of a crow. But it seemed to me that this dream was slightly less scary than the previous one. The goddess was still gradually drawing nearer, but I was running faster, getting closer and closer to the unseen refuge.
I suddenly awoke in a cold sweat, my heart hammering, but I felt somewhat encouraged. Was I learning; getting slightly stronger each time I experienced the nightmare?