Then was gone, leaving only exhaustion.
From somewhere far away, she heard her hound baying.
“No more, no more.” Sorcha’s voice croaked out, harsh and weak. “Stop. Brannaugh, you must stop.”
“You need more. I will find more.”
“No. Do as I say. Quiet breaths, quiet mind, quiet heart. Breath, mind, heart.”
“What’s wrong? What happened?” Eamon came flying down the ladder. “Ma!”
“I found her. Help me, help me get her to bed.”
“No, not bed. No time for it,” Sorcha said. “Eamon, let Kathel in, and wake Teagan.”
“She’s waked, she’s here.”
“Ah, there’s my baby. Not to fret.”
“There’s blood. Your hands have blood.”
“Aye.” Burying her grief, Sorcha stared at her hands. “’Tisn’t mine.”
“Fetch a cloth, Teagan, and we’ll wash her.”
“No, not a cloth. The cauldron. Fetch my candles, and book, and the salt. All the salt we have. Build up the fire, Eamon, and Brannaugh make my tea—make it strong.”
“I will.”
“Teagan, be a good girl now and pack up what food we have.”
“Are we going on a journey?”
“A journey, aye. Feed the stock, Eamon—aye, it’s early yet, but feed them and well, pack all the oats you can for Alastar.”
She took the cup from Brannaugh, drank deep, drank all. “Now, go pack your things, your clothes, blankets. You’ll take the sword, the dagger, all the coin, the jewels my granny left me. All that she left me. All, Brannaugh. Leave nothing of value. Pack it all, and be quick. Quick!” she snapped, and had Brannaugh dashing away.
Time, the Dark Witch thought, it came, it went. And now she had so little left. But enough. She would make it enough.
She sat quiet while her children did her bidding. And built her strength, amassed her power.
When Brannaugh came down, Sorcha stood straight and tall. Her skin held warmth and color, her eyes focus and energy.
“You’re well!”
“No, my darling, well I’m not, nor will be again.” She held up a hand before Brannaugh could speak. “But strong is what I am, for this time and for this need. I will do what I must, and so will you.” She looked to her son, her baby girl. “So will all of you. Before the sun rises, you will go. You will keep to the woods, go south. Do not use the road until you are well away. Find my cousin Ailish, the Clann O’Dwyer, and tell her the tale. She will do what she can.”
“We will all go.”
“No, Eamon. I will bide here. You must be strong and brave, protect your sisters, and they protect you. I would not survive the journey.”
“I will make you well,” Brannaugh insisted.
“’Tis beyond you. ’Tis meant. But I do not leave you alone or helpless. What I am, what I have will live in you. One day you will come back, for this is home, and home is the source. I cannot give you your innocence, but I will give you power.
“Stand with me, for you are my heart and soul, my blood and bone. You are my all. And now I cast the circle, and no dark shall enter.”
Flame circled the floor and, at the flick of her hand, leapt under the cauldron. Looking down at her hands again, she sighed once, then stepped forward.
