The soft, tender, chilling laughter continued as the creatures slipped up to dance around Caoimhín in movements as playful as they were sensuous. Three of them, there were, twisting and turning, so well-wrapped in the thick mist they almost seemed human. Their laughter verged on being musical. Joyful. Welcoming.
Caoimhín watched them grow closer and closer. Refused to look away until their forms began to shift into the beasts he knew they were. His first thought was to escape. To pull himself free from the straps and run. But that meant a coward's life and would not be worth living. So he gripped the stones tighter and focused on the whispering gray around him.
A talon appeared from within it to caress his cheek. Cut into his skin. He grimaced and grunted in pain. Blood coursed down to his neck to stain his tunic.
He shook with fear but still made himself growl, "You will toy with me!? Now!? Play your evil games!? Now!?"
The laughter grew darker and more cruel. Hisses worked within it. Another talon appeared from the mist to slice across his chest, rending both tunic and skin open.
He barely kept from crying out, then gasped in a breath.
It was time.
It was time.
He closed his eyes and choked out a whisper. "Caera...Caera, I...I come to you. Forgive me."
Then another talon whispered up, accompanied by the cruelest laughter, and sliced through his throat.
Mícheál heard his brother's strangled cry and had to fight back sobs of grief. This was Caoimhín, his brother, his dying brother, and he was losing the battle to control his pain, losing, and that could not be because then he'd be crying before the men he'd sworn to lead, men who needed to respect him and follow him and he could not allow that but he could not stop the towering waves of loss and sorrow crashing over him until in desperation he gripped his brother's sword and thrust it into the air and howled, "Caoimhín Ui Briúin! Caoimhín Ui Briúin!"
His men joined him, in unison. Swords high above their heads. "Caoimhín Ui Briúin! Caoimhín Ui Briúin!"
Over and over and over they cried the name. It echoed across the water to their land. A lament to let their world know that the evil which had terrorized them had finally been tamed.
And that Caoimhín Ui Briúin was of this earth, no longer.
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This prologue sets up the horror and tragedy of what the rest of the story will be about...and adds a level of fear to the parts set in 1910 and in modern day. Knowing what is in store for the lead male to face.
The image I used to illustrate this section is of Poulnabrone, a portal dolem I visited on my first trip to Ireland in 2002. It's an ancient burial site, and I nearly drove past it en route back to Galway.
I took the photo.
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