Twixt Firelight and Water Read Free Page A

the pain inside, so nobody would hear me and know how weak I truly was. I found that I could not walk on by.
     
    He was scrunched into a hollow between the rocks, arms wrapped around himself, knees up, head down. The bones of his shoulder, fragile as a bird’s, showed under the white skin, through a rip in his tunic. His hair was longer now, and the hue of a dark flame. He heard me coming, soft-footed as I was, and every part of him tensed.
     
    ‘Ciarán?’ It was awkward; he did not know me.
     
    The small head came up. The dark mulberry eyes, reddened with tears, fixed their stare on me. He was like a little wild animal at bay, quivering with the need for flight. And yet not like, for there was a knowledge in those sad eyes that chilled me. My brother was too young for this.
     
    I squatted down at a short distance, putting my belongings on the ground. ‘Did she hurt you?’ I asked.
     
    Not a word. She had threatened him, no doubt, to keep him from speaking to passers-by.
     
    ‘Ciarán,’ I said quietly, ‘my name is Conri. We both have the same mother. That makes us brothers.’
     
    He understood; I saw an unlikely hope flame in his eyes. Impossibilities flooded through my mind: we could take him with us, we could hide, perhaps she would never find us. And then, cruellest of all: I should not go away. I should stay for his sake.
     
    ‘Conri.’ Ciarán tried out the sound of it. ‘When is my father coming?’
     
    The hairs on my neck rose. Surely he could not remember his father. I’d seen how little the boy was when she brought him here: too young to understand any of it. But then, this was no ordinary child.
     
    ‘I don’t know, Ciarán.’ Don’t ask if you can come with me. Already, so quickly, he had a grip on my heart. Why in the Dagda’s name had I passed this way? ‘I have to go now.’
     
    ‘Will you come back?’
     
    I drew a shaky breath. There would be no lying to this particular child. ‘I don’t know.’ It was woefully inadequate. ‘Ciarán, I have something for you.’ I reached across and picked up my treasure box. My brother edged closer as I opened the lid. It was a meagre enough collection, but each item was precious to me. What to give him?
     
    ‘Here,’ I said, picking out a stone with swirling patterns of red and grey, a secret language ancient as myth. ‘I found this up in the hills beyond the western end of the lake. Earth and fire.’
     
    His fingers closed around it. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered. ‘Goodbye, Conri.’
     
    ‘Goodbye, little brother.’ Morrigan’s curse, tears were starting in my eyes, and they trembled in my voice. The longer I stayed, the worse this would be for the two of us. I gathered my belongings, turned my back and walked away.
     
    * * * *
     
    Eight days until Lugnasad and our wedding. There was no point in looking backwards. I could not save Ciarán. Even if Lóch had not existed, even if I had been prepared to sacrifice my own life for my brother’s sake, and stay where she could find and torment me daily, the sorceress would never have allowed me a part in his future. If Ciarán was to be her tool, she would not want his edge blunted by weakness, or his true metal tarnished by love. I could do nothing for him.
     
    So there was a thread of sorrow and regret in the shimmering garment of our happiness. All the same, Lóch prepared for the ritual with bright eyes, and both she and her grandmother professed themselves ready for the adventure that lay ahead. Lóch and I embraced under the shelter of the trees, our bodies pressed tight, desire making our breath falter. Our hearts hammered one against the other. Our wedding night could not come quickly enough.
     
    * * * *
     
    Six days until Lugnasad, and both Lóch and her grandmother had gone to the far side of the lake to bid farewell to an old friend, a crippled woman who would not be coming to the celebrations. They would be gone all day. I planned to spend the time practising the