Devils on Starfall Isle

8

The clearing was full of people who were packing and bags and baskets, and loading handcarts. The priest, Father Hooper, was shouting and cajoling them to go faster, to leave this, to go there; the young man looked energised and stressed as he organised the townsfolk of Hod.

She paused at the edge of the forest, wondering how they had survived. Maybe the things hadn't come this far south? But, no; there were corpses of horses and goats, the houses were ruins. And then she saw: they had survived because the chapel had.

The building stood proudly amongst the ruin, its twin overlapping circles of iron glittering in the torch light. Even the grass around it was untouched, a perfect circle of green rather than the footprint-trampled mud of the rest of the clearing, where huge claws had torn up the ground.

She remembered what Tira had said: that the twin god brothers would look after their own. Now, looking at the chapel she knew what that meant. The people here had sheltered within those wooden walls while the nightmares had prowled around, shrieking, and that iron symbol had stood silent guard above the door, far more potent than her charms. The people of Hod must be preparing to flee to the ship too; it was only three hours to the harbour from here, so they would have time to make it in the morning, after the things had gone.

Above her the stars continued to blaze through the sky. It would be midnight soon, and the starfall would stop for another moon. She didn't have much more light. If she was going to stop here, she needed to organise it now.

She walked into the clearing, into the bustle of torchlight and people. She'd only taken a few steps, when suddenly someone screamed. She whirled, expecting to see horrors; but instead a woman was pointing at her.

'It's her! The witch who brought these devils on us!'

She looked around, hoping against hope that they meant someone else, but no. The woman was looking at her, face twisted in rage. The townsfolk turned to stare. Angry eyes were on her, blazing from more than the torchlight.

'She's the reason we've got no homes!'

'I lost my Gerard last night because of her!'

'We should burn her!'

'No, I didn't! I had nothing to do with this!' she protested, hands out.

But the people had become a mob, tinder dry and ready to burn; it would only take a spark for the fire to take, and they would attack, taking all their rage and fear out on her. She backed towards the grey forest.

'No!' shouted Father Hooper, wading through the people. 'No! Never mind that the Twins tell us mercy, never mind that we don't know what she did or didn't do. We don't have time!'

He clapped his hands together, as if on a beat.

'You, Goody Hoxby. You still have packing to do. You, Goodman Turner, you need to help with that cart. We have scant hours until their return. Leave her!'

The people wavered, caught between fear for themselves and hatred of Verity.

'Maybe, but I won't stand to have her in the chapel!' shouted the first woman.

Bernice Cartwright was her name, thought Verity. She'd always been somewhat friendly, and the realisation that she was being spurned by someone she thought was an ally hurt even more.

The priest regarded Verity, and thought for a few seconds. The mob's mood was on a knife edge.

'Well, she's survived the nights outside the chapel up until now. She can survive one more. And once we're on the ship, we'll put her in irons and try her for witchcraft. But hear this: she's innocent under the eyes of our Gods until such a time as she is found guilty. The Twins teach that, and we will obey it. Now, good people, I implore you; return to your packing!'

The crowd disbanded, muttering. They weren't satisfied, Verity could feel it. They wanted someone to blame for their predicament, an outsider to hurt.

But there was a second, more pressing problem now; where was she to stay? She was expecting to find some half-ruined house in Hod, to put her charms down and hunker down while the beasts screamed; but there was nowhere here. Here, humanity was just as much of a danger as the toothed things of the night.

She only had one choice; she needed to keep going to the docks at the harbour and try and find somewhere to hunker down there.

She put her head down, and walked as quietly and as calmly as she could through the clearing. Their eyes burned into her, their obscene muttering made her blush. She had thought that she was inured to their dislike; but she realised that had just been bored bullying, not active hatred. This was something else, a fire directed towards her that wished to scorch the world of her existence.

The first stone hit her when she was nearly at the edge of the clearing. It winged her right arm. It didn't particularly hurt, but the shock was massive, a red wave that caused her to stagger. More stones landed around her. Another hit her on the back of the head, and that one did hurt, a stinging pain that made her cry out. She broke into a run, and the people behind erupted into jeers and cheers.