Feathers and Flame

Chapter 8

The old man smiled at her and then glanced around at the walls.

Faye could understand why they would run in here rather than try escape the village. The walls were marked with wards, some new but many old and powerful. The kind of wards that weren’t used anymore. The kind that had used blood, which still stained the wall decades after they had been drawn. It was a place that would protect them from Aed, but seeing the dark red made Faye uneasy. She did not want to stay there long.

The people in the Hall didn’t have much to get ready. There was very little in the Hall that they would want, except for a few weapons hanging on the walls. They had a few chickens and rabbits that they had managed to grab while running away from the Aed. When the last chicken was caught, they were ready to go. Faye looked at the rabbits, who squirmed in arms, and thought of the nameless hawk she had sent with the siblings, Colm and Lorcan. She hoped that it had a better night than she did.

A few people came over to say goodbye to the old man, but most were too busy trying to gather the families they had left. Faye took note of what door they went through in case she decided to change her mind later and do the smart thing. All of the villagers that she could see, except for the old man, had very few beads. Faye had only a few as well, preferring not to get a bead for everything. People saw a lot of beads in a person’s hair and they started asking what they were for.

One bead all the people had was a small wooden thing with a delicate carving. A single small plait with that bead was all most of the children had. It was the mark of the town, proclaimed where they were born. Faye used to have a bead somewhat like it a long time ago. She had cut it out.

“Close it after you,” said the old man. Some of his people nodded at him.

The old man watched the last of his people leave and didn’t even notice Faye staring at his bead. The craving was of a bird, most likely a pigeon or other small bird. Small birds were often a village choice, referring to the old tales and ideas of a life after. Faye had been to three places that had a robin as their symbol. 

“Is there any water around?” Faye asked the old man. He pointed to a large tub near the wall. Faye went to it and took another drink of water. Soot kept getting into her mouth, coating her tongue in dry ash. The milk she had been given had helped, but with ash on her face and hands, the relief never lasted long. Faye then set about washing her arms, neck and face. She couldn’t do much about her clothes, but she could try to appear somewhat more respectable.

She looked at the blood marks on the wall again, guessing how much of an affect they were having on her. She still felt angry, and the feeling should have past over her. It should have moved on to the least fun part by now. The fact that it hadn’t was making her nervous. She was out of paste to dull the sensation when it came over her.

With time continuing to run out, Faye finished washing her face and stood up straight. She walked towards the blocked door and began to move some of the barricade.

“What are you doing?” asked the old man.

“I thought you said you wanted to see Tadhg get his ass handed to him?” she said, pulling more away. She opened the door a tiny bit and stood behind it.