Though he couldn't remember drinking, not even the tiniest drop of the potent whiskey Brigit kept hidden for special occasions, passing out dead drunk seemed the only reasonable explanation for his state; he knew from personal experience that one drop too much of her special Irish whiskey could induce the sleep of the dead.
Staring at Brigit's bed from where he sat on the floor, he frowned at the long tendrils of black hair flowing down toward the floor. Who? The realization hit him like a blast of cold air. “Seerah,” he grumbled.
Much to his surprise, Seerah turned in his direction. Her eyes were open and she seemed to be looking in his direction, but it was as if she was looking through him. When she rose slowly from the cot and padded to the door, Lilybet's words came to Tristan's mind, “Sometimes, she walks asleep don't you know.” Tristan rose awkwardly, steadied himself, then moved slowly toward Seerah.
She glanced over her shoulder, lifted the hem of her night-rail, then passed through the threshold. Tristan hurried forward and almost crashed into the wooden door. He frowned at the oak slat barring the door and rubbed his aching head. The pain seemed so real, yet he knew he must be dreaming. Seerah couldn't walk through wood doors. Or could she?
“Tris-tan. Help me, Tristan,” Seerah's soft, pleading voice seemed to beckon him from beyond the secured door. “Please, Tristan."
His muddled thoughts and aching head were no match for his sense of duty. He unbarred the door as quickly as he could and rushed outside. He looked left, then swiftly to his right. Dizziness washed over him, again, just as he glimpsed the ethereal white cloth of Seerah's night-rail receding into the darkness.
“Seerah!” he called, rushing forward. His head reeled and he stumbled.
“Tris-tan. Tris-taaan,” Seerah's pleading voice seemed to fade away, then he heard a splashing sound like something heavy had fallen in the well. Dazed, confused, and driven by a sense of fear for Seerah's safety, Tristan stumbled toward the well. He steadied himself against the well's stone wall and peered into the engulfing darkness.
“Seerah!” he yelled and swung his right leg over the edge.
“Tristan,” Seerah's voice seemed to echo back at him from the depths of the well.
“Tristan! No!” Brigit cried out, rushing forward from the shadows. She pulled at his arm with all her might. “Tristan! Wake up. Now!"
“I am awake.” He blinked at Brigit then frowned. “Seerah ... I must ... save Seerah.” He shoved her away and slowly swung his other leg over the wall.
“Tristan!” Seerah's shrill cry pierced the air.
Tristan and Brigit turned with a start as Seerah rushed forward. “I'm fine, Tristan. You were dreaming. I beg of you, come down from there afore you fall."
Tristan glanced down into the dark well, then back up at Seerah. “But, I saw you and I heard you call out to me. You were walking asleep.
Seerah shivered and glanced anxiously about. “We must get inside, quickly."
The wind picked up and Brigit hugged herself tightly. “Aye, I believe that blow you gave him loosened his brain a mite. Come now, Tristan. You see for yourself she's fine. Come along and..."
“Please hurry, Tristan,” Seerah tugged his arm, but Tristan was reluctant to move. “Help me, Brigit. We must get inside. There be wicked energy all around. I feel something evil closing in."
Brigit glanced warily about. “You heard her, Tristan. Move!” she ordered, grabbing hold of his other arm.
The two woman hurried toward the cottage as fast as they could, dragging a very confused and reluctant Tristan with them.
Just as the threesome gained the front door, Tristan stumbled to the ground on all fours. “Stop this nonsense!” he shouted, but Seerah was naught to obey. She grabbed Brigit by the arm and whirled her inside. Then, with all her might, Seerah shoved her foot against Tristan's backside.
“Oh!” Brigit cried, as she landed on her bottom in a cloud of dust.
Gareth, scrambled to his feet. “What—"
Colin and Greum jumped to their feet just in time to see Tristan land face down in Brigit's lap. “God's eyes!” he muttered into her skirts.
“Oh!” Brigit cried, shoving his head from between her legs.
“For the love of—” Tristan rolled to one side, cradling his skull.
Seerah nudged his ankle with her boot. “Move your feet, you big lout.” When he didn't respond quickly enough she kicked him, hard. “Now!"
Tristan flinched, instinctively drawing his knees up. “The Devil!” he muttered.
“Exactly,” Seerah replied. “'Tis what I've been trying to tell you all along. Help me, Gareth!” she cried, struggling to lift the heavy wooden slat.
Gareth shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “What happened?” he asked, as he hurried forward to help Seerah. The moment he lifted the bar into place Seerah ran in the opposite direction towards the hearth. Without saying a word she shoved past Colin and Greum, who were on their feet glancing anxiously about. Looking confused and concerned, they watched as Seerah hopped over Zeth's sleeping form, and skidded to a halt before the hearth. “Have you a closure in your chute to prevent the winds from coming in?"
Before anyone could answer, she was on her knees reaching up inside the chimney.
“Of course,” Brigit said. “But I closed it, as I do every—” The sound of the flue slamming shut cut her off. “Why, I was certain I closed it.” Leaning her elbow into Tristan's chest, Brigit used him for support as she got to her feet.
“Ugh!” Tristan groaned when her elbow jabbed him in the ribs. Than he moaned and he rolled to his side. “You must have forgotten. When first I woke,” he said, holding his head and closing his eyes, “a gust of wind blew down the chute and scattered ashes all around. ‘Twas moments before I saw Seerah...” He blinked his eyes open and tried to focus on the hearth.
“As you can see, the ashes lay quite undisturbed, Tristan” Brigit announced.
“Aye.” Seerah nodded her agreement.
When Tristan finally gained his feet he stood for a moment, like a novice sailor uncertain of his sea legs. He took a few clumsy steps, wobbled forward, then grasped the mantle to steady himself. “'Tis impossible. I saw..."
“Aye, you also said you saw Seerah. But she was inside sleeping while you were out hopping into the well, after God knows what!” Brigit declared.
“I fear...” Seerah swallowed hard. “'Twas a banshee.” Cosmo scampered from the bed to Seerah. She scooped him up in her arms, then held him close. “I heard the mournful cry. ‘Tis what woke me."
“'Twas more likely Brigit's cry of alarm that you heard,” Tristan said.
After slanting Brigit a quizzical look, Seerah placed Cosmo about her neck and walked toward Tristan. “Tell me exactly what you saw, Tristan. You said that the lass you saw looked like me, but were her clothes soiled with blood? Or did she appear to be washing bloodied armor by the well?"
“Nay!” Tristan touched the side of his head and winced. “'Twas you, I saw. You walked to the door and went outside. Then I heard you call out to me for help. After I unbarred the door, I followed you outside. I heard a loud splash from the—"
“After you unbarred the door?” Seerah asked. “You do na’ believe in me powers, yet you believe I can walk through closed doors?"
Tristan fixed Seerah with a dubious look. “Then, ‘twas this lump on my skull that caused me to see such things, not banshees."
Seerah grimaced. “Tis a nasty bruise, indeed. But ... you asked for it."
“I what?"
“Never mind about that,” Brigit interceded. “What of the banshee, Seerah?"
Seerah shot Brigit an obvious look of gratitude, and said, “'Twas certainly no banshee, thank the Gods. The evil energy I warned you of, however ... well, it surrounds this cottage as I speak."
“So does Sir Nevil,” Tristan said.
“Nevil?” Greum, Colin and Gareth asked simultaneously.
Tristan nodded, then winced. “Aye. Tis why we must
leave here. Before I walked in on the ... tender moment between Gareth and Seerah...” he paused and glared at Gareth.
“You misread what you saw, Tristan,” Gareth began. “If you would listen—"
“There's no time.” Tristan rubbed his temples. “I came across Nevil in the forest. Though I did na’ see him—exactly—I overheard his plot. He is near. He searches for the stone, and Seerah."
“Is he the one who injured Gareth?” Seerah asked.
“Aye, but—” Tristan replied.
“Bloodied fangs of the pig,” Seerah whispered.
Gareth looked at Seerah and nodded. “Aye, the pig. The nasal helmet he wears boasts the crest of a wild boar.” He touched his wounded arm. “Bloodied fangs indeed."
“Enough!” Tristan bellowed. “Wake Zeth. We will leave here, now."
“But...” Seerah wrung her hands together. “We can na'. There be safety here. If we go out into the night, I'm certain ill-fate will befall us."
“I'm afraid it already has,” Colin spoke up. “Zeth will na’ stir."
Brigit and Seerah gained Zeth's side first. “Does he breathe?” Brigit asked.
Seerah leaned down close to his chest. “Aye."
“He sleeps then?” Gareth asked.
“Aye, but ‘tis a soulless slumber. And he carries a fever,” Seerah muttered.
“What does this mean?” Brigit asked.
Seerah looked up at Tristan. “You say the vision you saw, looked like me, and it passed through the closed door. Did you see me eyes?"
“I told you what I saw was due to this bump..."
“Answer me! Did you see me eyes?” Seerah demanded.
“Aye.” Tristan scowled. “They were black. Black as coal. So? What of it?"
“Have you never noticed the color of Seerah's eyes, Tristan?” Brigit asked.
“Aye. At times they appear blue, sometimes green—what does that matter? ‘Twas a bad dream. Nothing more."
“Nay, Tristan. ‘Twas a crone. She cast the curse of the changeling on Zeth to steal his spirit, and lure you outside. I must perform the ritual of..."
“'Tis nonsense you speak. Move aside!” Tristan thundered, pushing his way to Zeth's side “Zeth! Wake up, Zeth!” Tristan shook the lad's limp form, but Zeth didn't respond. Except for his shallow breathing, he appeared to be dead to the world.
“Get me some water,” Tristan ordered.
Brigit retrieved a bucket, and held a ladle of fresh water out to Tristan.
“I'll hold him. Seerah, you try to get him to drink,” Tristan commanded.
Seerah accepted the ladle from Brigit and held it to Zeth's mouth. Only a few drops made their way past his parched lips before he began to sputter and choke.
“Lay him back. We can try cool compresses and a sponge bath to reduce his fever if you insist, but ‘tis no sickness I tell you.” Seerah began unfastening Zeth's plaid.
Tristan stayed her hands and gave her a disquieting look. “We will see to Zeth's bathing."
“Despite what you think of me.” Seerah glared back. “I'm a healer, I'll not violate the boy. He needs—"
“We can see to his needs. You've done quite enough already.” Tristan nodded to Colin and Greum. When they advanced, Seerah hesitantly allowed them to take her place by Zeth's side. “Brigit, prepare some broth. Gareth, aid her if she needs it, but I warn you all, keep clear of me unless I ask for your help. I'll not tolerate any more dissension this night."
Seerah backed slowly away.
“His temper will cool,” Brigit said. She grasped Seerah's hands and offered a wan smile. “It always does. Mayhap you can mix a potion to ease the pain in his head.” She urged Seerah towards the hearth, where Gareth joined them.
Seerah looked sadly up into his eyes. “I can mix a draught to ease the pain in his head, but ‘tis the black vengeance in his heart that threatens his very existence. Evil begets only evil."
Gareth nodded soberly. “He believes I have betrayed him."
Seerah sighed. “Aye, but that has little to do with it. He is blinded by despair. And resentment festers in his soul, allowing the forces of dark to command his spirit. If only..."
“Quit your whispering and scheming!” Tristan commanded. “'Tis obvious the loyalties around me have shifted. I need no further evidence of that."
“Shame on you, Tristan!” Brigit chastised. “'Tis Zeth you should be concerned for, not your own foolish pride. You bring dissension on yourself because you are too stubborn to see simple truths. And, bluster at us no more or I'll be next to crack you upside your thick skull.” She waved a wooden spoon at him. “I mean it. Say not another word. This is my house and I will na’ stand for your foul temper any more. We all care for Zeth, just as much as you do."
The room fell silent. Tristan's bitter scowl was his only reply to Brigit's warning glare.
“Please, you must stop arguing.” Tears glistened in her Seerah's eyes as she spoke. “Me presence has caused the trouble. ‘Tis me fault alone that Zeth lays ill. ‘Tis me the evil ones are after.” She bowed her head and pulled her chain from beneath her frock.
Grasping the stone in the palm of her left hand Seerah raised her chin defiantly. “I curse the evil forces that brought me here, and implore the powers of good I can na’ control.” Taking a deep, steadying breath, she concentrated on Zeth. As the amulet began to glow, her body started trembling, and her eyes fluttered closed.
Brigit grasped Gareth's hands. “Do something!"
* * *
Chapter Twenty-One
Before Gareth could react, Seerah spoke again. “For Zeth's sake, and the sake of the prophecy, may Dagdha grant me the power to annul this wicked spell. Else he condemn me soul to Hell forever more."
Cosmo hugged Seerah's neck, his fur standing on end.
As Brigit, Gareth, Colin and Greum anxiously held their breath in anticipation, Tristan calmly transferred Zeth to Colin's arms. “Cease this dramatic display. It serves no use, but to put everyone on edge.” Standing, he walked towards Seerah.
“I have the power,” Seerah whispered. With her eyes still closed, she held her right hand up and swayed. She moved first to the left, then to the right, as if searching for something tangible to grasp.
“You have no power. And I'm telling you to stop this foolishness at once!” Tristan commanded.
“I have the power, I say!” When Seerah opened her eyes and glared at Tristan, her eyes appeared to glow bright green like the amulet.
“'Tis trickery.” Tristan grasped Seerah's wrist, but her flesh felt as cold and unyielding as stone. As he stared blankly at the impotence of his grip, Seerah spoke again.
“Moon and stars, strong tides of the sea, I command you, Tristan, release me!” Green light flashed from within her eyes and Tristan flinched, releasing Seerah's wrist as if he'd just been burned.
Still holding the amulet, Seerah closed her eyes again. “Phantom dark I summon you now, come unto me and hear me vow. Transport me swiftly to your dungeons of Hell, and work upon me your most wicked spell. Spawn of the Devil that thy be, transfer your evil from Zeth to me."
“Enough, Seerah!” Tristan made to grab her wrist again.
“Nay, Tristan!” Colin shouted. “'Tis working."
Tristan's hand stilled in mid-air and he jerked his head in Zeth's direction.
Zeth moaned. “Seerah? ‘Tis so black—so cold. Seerah? Not ... safe. No ... Oh, God. No!"
“Zeth? Can you hear me, lad?” Colin lightly patted the boy's face.
Tristan, Gareth and Brigit hurried to Zeth's side. “Zeth, can you hear us?” Kneeling, Tristan searched Zeth's glazed, open-eyed stare.
“Seerah? Please ... No!” Zeth grasped blindly at the air.
Tristan seized his hand. “Zeth, ‘tis Tristan. We're all here by your side. You're fevered. Try to preserve you strength."
“S-Seerah. Seerah?” Zeth began to thrash about.
“She's here as well. Calm yourself. You need to rest,” Tristan said.
“'Tis the fever that causes your chill,” Tristan explained.
Brigit touched her hand to Zeth's skin. “The fever has broken. Why, he's chilled to the bone."
Cosmo screeched, drawing everyone's attention from Zeth.
As they looked up, the ferret leapt from Seerah shoulder just before her body crumpled to floor in a heap.
“Brigit, see to her,” Tristan sighed. “Greum, fetch a fur mantel for Zeth. Gareth, fetch some broth. Quickly,” he ordered.
“Darkness and cold. So very cold.” Zeth mumbled.
“Aye, but you'll be fine now, Zeth. Quiet yourself. You need to rest, like Tristan said,” Colin bid.
Zeth's eyes fluttered open again. “Seerah? Where be Seerah?"
Tristan looked to Brigit for an answer.
“She's coming around, but she's weak,” Brigit said.
“She's coming, Zeth,” Tristan said. Then, scowling at Gareth, Tristan grumbled, “Where's the broth?"
“Right here.” Gareth handed Colin the bowl.
“Gareth, Seerah be calling for you,” Brigit said.
“Aye?” Gareth replied, but as he went to see to Seerah, Tristan eyed him ruefully.
* * * *
“How is Zeth?” Seerah whispered.
“He's asking for you. Can you stand?” Gareth replied.
Feeling as if she had woken from a sound slumber, Seerah blinked up at him. “What—what happened?"
“You swooned,” Gareth said. “I believe—"
“You crumpled to the ground in a lifeless heap,” Brigit declared, as she grasped Seerah by both hands and helped her to her feet. Gazing deep into Seerah's eyes, Brigit said. “Why, you commanded the evil to come to you. You saved Zeth. Aye, you have the power. Your fear for Zeth allowed you to channel it this time. But you must learn to draw on more positive energy.” Brigit shook her head. “Anger and fear drain you, so. I fear ‘tis harmful to your—"
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