Flame of Sevenwaters Read Free Page A

for such missives, even when borne by the most trusted of messengers, could still fall into the wrong hands. In a time of unrest this might lead to the destruction of alliances and the breaking of treaties. My father wrote in part:
Of recent times there has been a marked increase in the activity of which we advised you some time ago: unexplained acts of violence against both people and property, instances of malevolent meddling, the circulation of strange rumors and tales. We have been plagued by events of this kind since before the time of Finbar’s misadventure; it is easy enough to guess their source. You understand, as I do, that there is a possible solution to this difficulty, involving the return of a certain family member. This would involve immense risk. It seems a monstrous thing to ask of anyone. I seek your honest advice on the matter.
There have been accusations from all sides regarding the events to which I refer, and many of those are directed at me and mine. In the past it has generally been possible to make peace with the offended folk, in some cases through restitution in goods or silver.
However, an event has occurred that dwarfs the previous occurrences. It is a deeply troubling development. The offended party is Cruinn of Tirconnell. If he were able to prove the fault was mine—the circumstances suggests that it was—this could become a matter for the High King. I am, therefore, now reassessing my approach in consultation with my druid uncles.
You may already have heard what occurred through other sources, but in summary it was this: a troop of Cruinn’s warriors, led by his two sons, was riding southward on the track that skirts the western margin of the Sevenwaters forest. We know they passed our northwestern guard tower about two hours after dawn, and that there were sixteen of them, all well-armed. My sentries reported this, and it tallies with what Cruinn told me later. Their purpose was to visit a chieftain of the southern Uí Néill, whose daughter was betrothed to Cruinn’s elder son. My sentries commented that the riders seemed to be in high spirits.
What happened next, nobody knows. The sixteen men never arrived at their destination. They did not pass our southwestern guard tower or Illann’s watch posts south of our border. They did not come home. Messengers were sent. A search was carried out. Once I was informed of their disappearance I set my own search in place, since outsiders do not easily find their way in the Sevenwaters forest. Nothing. No trace. It was as if those sixteen men had vanished into another world.
Long after, when all possibilities had been considered and discounted and Cruinn’s accusations were becoming personal, the lost men began to reappear. One was found squeezed into a hollow tree, his knees against his chest, arms curled over his head as if to shield him from attack. Stone dead. A man taking pigs out to forage discovered another on the ground beneath a bees’ nest, his body reddened and swollen by stings, his face smeared with honey. His body was still warm; he had lived for close to two moons from the day of the disappearance. The third man was discovered sprawled at the foot of a cliff with his neck broken. The clothes he had been wearing when he rode out were gone; instead, he was clad in strange garments made from feathers.
As time passed, twelve men were discovered within the Sevenwaters forest, each in a different place, each killed in a different way. None had been dead long. Someone was playing with us. Cruinn was beside himself with fury. This was happening on my land, under my watch. And his sons were still missing.
The last four have not yet been found. Perhaps our adversary has tired of his game. In any event, he has made his point. In doing so he has divided me most emphatically from those I had considered allies, both to the north and the south, for the chieftain whose daughter was to wed one of these men clamors against me as loudly as Cruinn