“What are they?” Ember asked, her voice shaking.
“Hush,” Eira said. “Don’t draw their attention.”
They reached the bonfire circle. Burning wood still spit and hissed, smoke and steam rising together into the night sky.
“Ember!”
The sound of Barrow’s shout brought tears to Ember’s eyes.
“Here!” she cried out, earning a stern glance from Eira.
He wasn’t alone. Lukasz and Sorcha were with him, both bearing daggers like the one Ember had carried in her dress.
Lukasz regarded Eira with alarm. “Why are you here? And in uniform?”
“I heard there was trouble,” Eira answered coolly. “And most of the Guard was absent. I thought it prudent to take precautionary measures.”
“Where are the others?” Ember asked. Alistair and Kael were still missing, as was Father Michael.
Lukasz shook his head. “I don’t know. Hopefully well away from the village. If we’re lucky, the rain drove them back to Tearmunn.”
“What is this evil that’s come upon us?” Sorcha hissed.
“We must return to the keep,” Eira said. “We can do no good here.”
“I wish I could argue with you.” Lukasz laid the blade of his dagger flat against his palm. “I threw my other dagger at one of beasts. It was like attacking a cloud.”
Eira turned and gestured for them to follow. “That’s why we mustn’t wait. Our only choice here is retreat.”
“I don’t know.” Lukasz hesitated. “Even after my attack, the creature didn’t turn on me. They seemed intent on attacking the villagers only.”
“That doesn’t matter now,” Eira told him. “Follow me.”
She led them toward the forest. Now that the rain had stopped, Ember could see huddled figures in the woods. Some of the villagers had climbed trees. Others crouched in groups, gazing grief-stricken as they listened to their neighbors’ cries.
“Why don’t they run to the keep?” Ember asked Lukasz. “Wouldn’t we offer protection?”
“We would,” he told her. “But you’d be surprised at how much it can take to drive a man from his home. Some will stay even in the face of certain death.”
This very case proved the truth of his words, Ember thought.
Sorcha suddenly shouted, pointing to her right. One of the shadow creatures had abandoned its victim. It now flowed over the rain-soaked ground, moving away from them toward the center of the village. Sorcha turned and rushed after it.
“Where are you going?” Ember cried, and then she saw it.
A child, barely old enough to walk, tottered through the mud. It wailed, soaked by rain and full of fear, likely searching for its mother. The shadow creature kept its inexorable pace, bearing down on the toddler. Ember’s glance moved from the child, seeking any sign of hope for its salvation. Her gaze settled on a figure only a short distance from the toddler. A tall man leaned against the side of a house. His pose was casual and his head tilted as if watching this tragedy unfold were somehow amusing.
“Who is he?” Ember whispered. But no one heard her as Lukasz swore and started to go after Sorcha.
“No!” Eira stepped in front of him. “I’ll go after her. You must get the others to the safety of Tearmunn.”
“You take them,” Lukasz growled. “I should fight with Sorcha.”
“I’m ordering you, Commander,” Eira said, drawing her sword. “I’m more ready for a fight than you are. You’ve already lost one dagger today.”
Lukasz glared at her but nodded. “We’ll see you in the keep.”
Eira nodded. “Godspeed.”
When the others were out of sight, Eira broke from her run, instead walking calmly into the village. Ahead of her, Sorcha dove between the wraith and the child. Rolling to her feet, Sorcha scooped up the toddler and whirled to face the wraith.
With only a dagger to defend herself, Sorcha spat on the ground. “Go to hell, you fiend.”
Eira lifted her hand and the advancing coil of shadow stopped. Its nebulous form undulated, gave a sudden shudder, and then vanished. Sorcha stared in shock at the empty space where the wraith had been. With the child still wailing in her arms, Sorcha went very still, uncertain of her next move.
Behind her Bosque Mar straightened. “The menace is past!” he called in a voice that reached across the village. “See to your families.”
Creaks and whispers filled the air as hidden villagers emerged from within houses and beneath carts or piles of straw.
“Gather here! I have the fiend who brought this sorrow upon us!” Bosque seized Sorcha from behind, which made her drop the child. It sat in the mud, screeching.
Sorcha battled to free herself and shouted, but Bosque’s arms were locked around her, stronger than iron.
“Eira! Help me!”
Bosque looked at Eira, giving a slight nod. Sheathing her sword, Eira turned a regretful glance upon Sorcha. She’d known the night would end here, but she was sorry for it.
A true sacrifice.
Eira wished it hadn’t been Sorcha, but she also knew that the villagers were much more likely to accuse a woman of witchcraft than a man. And Sorcha had proved resistant, hostile even, to Eira’s call to arms. That made Sorcha an enemy. Once their plan had taken shape, its target had been an obvious choice.
At least I saved the girl, Eira thought, and Alistair believes she’ll join us.
With a sigh Eira pulled her eyes off Sorcha and slipped away. She wove her way between houses and finally stopped, crouching out of sight so she could watch and listen without being spotted.
Curious, frightened villagers began to cluster around the tall man who held a struggling woman fast.
“Jamie!” a woman cried, and rushed forward, sweeping the crying, mud-covered toddler into her arms.
“By the grace of God alone your child lives,” Bosque told her. “This witch would have taken your babe to sacrifice.”
Murmurs flew through the gathering crowd, punctuated by sobbing and grief-filled wails.
Sorcha ceased her struggling and her face blanched with disbelief.
“I am no witch,” she whispered, but as she began to fight against him once more, her voice became a shout. “I am no witch!”
“She is a witch.” Bosque tightened his hold on her. “Only the work of the devil could bring such sorrow here.”