Ket, wrapped tight in Nessaâs cloak, was still shivering.
âTell us what you saw, then,â said Lorccán.
Ket stared at him and tried to speak. Floating in front of his eyes were images of ghastly faces with flesh like raw white fat.
âUh . . .â He shuddered and shook his head.
âSee, you canât tell us,â said Lorccán.
Ket clenched his fists. If only he hadnât dropped the horn! If only he could have thrust that treasure all silver and gleaming under Lorccánâs nose.
âHey, listen,â said Riona.
From the tree above their heads came the chirrup of a wakening robin. The long night was drawing to an end.
The fosterlings crushed together in the entrance of the hollow oak and peered out. The flames of the campfire shot skywards as the anruth heaped on branch after branch.
âO Spirit of the Sun
Accept our offering of fire
Let a New Year dawn
O Spirit of the Sun, â
Faelán entreated.
Ket peered at the sky. Behind the flames there was nothing but blackness. The glare of the fire was so blinding, he could not even make out the grey shapes of trees or clouds. Then, with the cooing of a woodpigeon, came a faint glimmer of dawn. Ket let out a sigh.
âMaura,â said the druid, flourishing a strip of cloth, âbind this about my eyes. It is time for the New Year divinations.â
Blindfolded, Faelán began to circle around the balefire. Ket watched with his heart in his mouth. Several times, the long feathered cloak almost swirled into the flames.
As the druid circled, he called on the spirits to guide him.
âSpirit of the Sea before me
Spirit of the Wind behind me
Spirit of the Sky above me
Spirit of the Earth beneath me.â
He halted, and tore the blindfold from his eyes.
âStronger of sight than I
Reveal what befalls us!â
Everyone looked around expectantly, and then a redwing darted from a tree.
âA lucky omen!â cried Bronal.
Faelán smiled and nodded.
âVery soon we will hear good tidings,â he said.
All the anruth clamoured for a turn to wear the blindfold.
âFirst you must build the balefire higher,â said Faelán.
The anruth fed the flames, till the fire roared so high it dwarfed even the tall figure of Faelán. As its blasting heat spread to the tree where the fosterlings were huddled, Ket shrank away. He was filled with terror and awe, just as heâd been all those Samhains ago, when heâd seen the balefire for the first time. Just for a brief instant he was living that scene again. His father had brought him to the druidâs camp and the little Ket was staring with fright at the flames, the crowds and lowing cattle. He remembered watching his father leave, longing to call out âStop!â, to run after him and take his hand. But instead Ket had wrapped his arms around a tree, pressed his face into the rough bark, and willed himself to stand there with eyes clenched shut until his father was out of sight.
Now, as the sky lightened, there were mooings and the shuffle of feet among the trees. One by one, the people of the tuath, leading their cattle, emerged from the forest. The fosterlings peeked from the hollow oak, pointing with excitement at those they recognised. Ketâs heart quivered when he saw his father. In memory, Ossian had been proud and tall, but here, draped in his dun brown cloak, he looked like a timid fieldmouse next to Morgor the Chieftain.
âDruid,â called Morgor, sliding a sparkling jewel from his finger, âplease accept another token of my appreciation.â
Everyone jostled to form a ring around the huge balefire. There were shushes and muffled curses as a few jittery cows pawed the ground and tried to back away. But at last they were all ready, waiting in a respectful hush.
âLet us discover the fate of the tuath for the coming year,â declared Faelán. He turned to the oldest anruth. âGoll, you take
âTell us what you saw, then,â said Lorccán.
Ket stared at him and tried to speak. Floating in front of his eyes were images of ghastly faces with flesh like raw white fat.
âUh . . .â He shuddered and shook his head.
âSee, you canât tell us,â said Lorccán.
Ket clenched his fists. If only he hadnât dropped the horn! If only he could have thrust that treasure all silver and gleaming under Lorccánâs nose.
âHey, listen,â said Riona.
From the tree above their heads came the chirrup of a wakening robin. The long night was drawing to an end.
The fosterlings crushed together in the entrance of the hollow oak and peered out. The flames of the campfire shot skywards as the anruth heaped on branch after branch.
âO Spirit of the Sun
Accept our offering of fire
Let a New Year dawn
O Spirit of the Sun, â
Faelán entreated.
Ket peered at the sky. Behind the flames there was nothing but blackness. The glare of the fire was so blinding, he could not even make out the grey shapes of trees or clouds. Then, with the cooing of a woodpigeon, came a faint glimmer of dawn. Ket let out a sigh.
âMaura,â said the druid, flourishing a strip of cloth, âbind this about my eyes. It is time for the New Year divinations.â
Blindfolded, Faelán began to circle around the balefire. Ket watched with his heart in his mouth. Several times, the long feathered cloak almost swirled into the flames.
As the druid circled, he called on the spirits to guide him.
âSpirit of the Sea before me
Spirit of the Wind behind me
Spirit of the Sky above me
Spirit of the Earth beneath me.â
He halted, and tore the blindfold from his eyes.
âStronger of sight than I
Reveal what befalls us!â
Everyone looked around expectantly, and then a redwing darted from a tree.
âA lucky omen!â cried Bronal.
Faelán smiled and nodded.
âVery soon we will hear good tidings,â he said.
All the anruth clamoured for a turn to wear the blindfold.
âFirst you must build the balefire higher,â said Faelán.
The anruth fed the flames, till the fire roared so high it dwarfed even the tall figure of Faelán. As its blasting heat spread to the tree where the fosterlings were huddled, Ket shrank away. He was filled with terror and awe, just as heâd been all those Samhains ago, when heâd seen the balefire for the first time. Just for a brief instant he was living that scene again. His father had brought him to the druidâs camp and the little Ket was staring with fright at the flames, the crowds and lowing cattle. He remembered watching his father leave, longing to call out âStop!â, to run after him and take his hand. But instead Ket had wrapped his arms around a tree, pressed his face into the rough bark, and willed himself to stand there with eyes clenched shut until his father was out of sight.
Now, as the sky lightened, there were mooings and the shuffle of feet among the trees. One by one, the people of the tuath, leading their cattle, emerged from the forest. The fosterlings peeked from the hollow oak, pointing with excitement at those they recognised. Ketâs heart quivered when he saw his father. In memory, Ossian had been proud and tall, but here, draped in his dun brown cloak, he looked like a timid fieldmouse next to Morgor the Chieftain.
âDruid,â called Morgor, sliding a sparkling jewel from his finger, âplease accept another token of my appreciation.â
Everyone jostled to form a ring around the huge balefire. There were shushes and muffled curses as a few jittery cows pawed the ground and tried to back away. But at last they were all ready, waiting in a respectful hush.
âLet us discover the fate of the tuath for the coming year,â declared Faelán. He turned to the oldest anruth. âGoll, you take
Similar Books
