Though he had been encouraged to go rest, Cormac waited only a short time for the others to leave for their own homes, a sliver of irritation towards his friends for their knowing glances, when they realized he intended to try to speak with Daegan.

  His thoughts on her, he knocked and was rebuffed, with her only words being “Go away!” he knocked once more, was rebuffed again uttering a fumbling apology through the door. This was met with silence, at which time he left for his home in defeat.

  His sense of hurt was overshadowed by the memory of his mother’s sharp words against him, words that had begun to haunt him and make him squirm inside. Was what she had said true? Was he truly a failure? Was he the sort of man to give up, and never try again, and who was destined to always fail to demonstrate himself a true Caled?

  The doubt and conflict within himself was somewhat eased when he did as Wulfnoth had suggested, eating a small lunch of poultry, with a side of bread dipped in wine. This done, Cormac grew restless. A part of him wished to visit Ciaran’s oak, yet another part wished to go sit by the quay. However the stiff reminder that, his father had returned put an end to that habit in its entirety, and the knowledge that Helga was likely near the temple meant he could not visit Murchadh. He had no great wish to encourage her to think of him, in terms of marriage.

  Mooncalf, this is no time for dawdling and day-dreaming, he told himself sharply, using one of his mother’s older insults to push himself at last to proper action.

  Casting out the doubt from within himself, he glanced outside to discover the suns in the midst of their final descent. The memory of Inga and that of his father entered into his soul then. This only steeled his resolve to not only go tell Daegan, what it was that he thought and felt, as he realized just how short life truly was, and decided to his mind for him. Yes, he was still shaken by the previous encounter with the shadow-rider that he had had, but he refused to shrink and hide from a mere shadow. He was the only person, to have encountered it, face-to-face and lived to speak of the incident, most of the rest had but seen it in passing and thus had their doubts about the validity of what they had seen.

  Grabbing one of his only two cloaks, Cormac made his way over the hill in the direction of the scarlet-haired lass whom had always been present, in all his memories. Especially his farthest ones, which had included Murchadh lifting the two of them upon his large beefy shoulders, or Corin showing them a newly crafted horse-shoe, there was also the memory of when he had dropped a tomato given to him by farmer Drest. Filled with pity for him, and for the tears that had come unbidden into his eyes, Daegan had torn what remained of her own in half.

  He arrived short of the door when he realized that he still had no notion of what it was, he wished to say to her. The truth of it was that Cormac had sought previously to plead with her. Demanding an ‘audience’ as Trygve might well have dubbed it, would avail him nothing he suspected. All that was left to him was the thought of how she had in the past pulled from behind a door or from one of his day-dreams upon her own arrival.

  Shyness though got the better of him, at the thought of singing to her as that seemed a tad too ridiculous to his mind and he had no wish to appear the fool. Especially if Wulfnoth was to return at that moment, or Indulf or heavens spare him, Trygve! In place of this act, he chose to call out to the daughter of Corin, once more. “Dae, I could not stay away!”

  Once again she rebuffed him, “Go away Cormac. If you had wished to speak to me, you should have sought me out after that day when your mother put us to work and you chose to go rest instead.”

  “That was a foolish thing to do on my part,” He acknowledged guiltily, remembering how weary he had been after they had worked for so long, so that he had hardly noticed Daegan’s exodus from his mother’s shop.

  “Indeed it was.”

  Frustrated Cormac could feel his temper begin to rise up, it was rare for him to ever feel this way towards her, due in no small part to the great fondness he had for her. However, at that moment he almost could not resist a sharp comment in return. “That said, I do think that I should be allowed to apologise without a door obstructing us, for this is no proper way to speak or to face one another. It is hiding, and you Dae are no coward, therefore you ought to open the door to confront me directly, as you have in the past when angered.”

  Unsure if his words would have any sort of effect upon her, he was rewarded a minute later with the door cracking open. The glorious sound was as a full chorus of the finest singers in Rothien to his ears, so pleased was he by her acquiescence to face him.

  Pleased, he hardly noticed the twin-suns’ final descent in the distance. Cormac opened his mouth to speak up, his pleasure showing itself on his face with Daegan being faster to speak up than he. “Know that I expect in full, an abject apology.”

  “Would you have me grovel?” He asked in frustration, eyes flashing with blue lightning.

  “Aye,” Her green gaze met his evenly.

  They stood there facing one another, testing the air and daring the other to crumble and give in first. By nature, Cormac was the more likely to give in. Hardly known for his obstinate spirit or his ability to resist Daegan or her wishes it was with a start that she realized after a few seconds that he had yet to concede a single millimetre.

  The wind whipped about and the heavens appeared to tremble, as the suns at last petered out in the distant west and the moon arose in their place. His dark brown wool cloak fluttered about him as wings on an eagle might, his red woollen tunic and hose hardly enough to fight off the cold air so that he shivered eventually.

  Great was the cold that wandered from home to home, from person to person, hunting them as though they were naught but prey. This though was but a prelude to what was to come, as Cormac spoke up once more. “May I enter, Dae? I had hoped to discuss the hiding place of the gem and er- whatever it was that you wished to discuss that day when you came to visit me.”

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  Daegan hesitated visibly, her teeth ground together and for a long moment the blonde-haired lad felt fairly certain that she would say ‘no’ and close the door in his face.

  At last she let slip a sigh and opened the door fully, allowing him entry at last. Once inside, she went to seat herself at the table, where he could not help but notice, she had a strand of wool that had yet to be properly sewn together. It was in disarray, this struck him as peculiar. Daegan was by no means, the sort of woman to ever leave anything such as cloth in disarray. Disorder was her enemy, as much in the forge, as it was with firewood as unused cloth was.

  All anger disappeared from Cormac’s heart as he asked of her once she had seated herself, “Dae, what is wrong? Has something happened?”

  “Of course something went wrong, Cormac how can you ask such a thing?” She demanded of him furiously.

  “I meant- have you slept at all?”

  At this question she fell silent once more. Her answer when it came was so reluctant, so quiet he almost had to strain to hear it, “What do you mean, Cormac?”

  “I mean, you did not sing upon my appearance here, not even an anger-song in disapproval of me then there are the dark-rings beneath your green eyes.” Cormac told her, his heart aching with sympathy for her as he moved closer, bending down as he did so that she did not have to crane her neck to look up at him. “Tell me you wish me to go away, and I will go, but not before you have spoken of what ails you, Dae.”

  Daegan looked away for a moment before she sagged a little, “It is that gemstone I fear,” She fidgeted a little. “I feel in recent days as though sleep is a treacherous enemy that is accompanied by naught save nightmares and coldness. There is something amiss that watches over father and I, he felt it too just before he left for Sgain. It is why I think, that he left so hastily and without too much quarrel over the matter of auntie. This gem, has begun to- I do not know, it feels as though it is ever watchful and malevolent even now.”

  Cormac came close then, closer than he ever had in the past to take her into his arms, as he desired to comfort her. But she was not a child, neither was she someone who appreciated being treated as one. If only, a part of him whined that he could know her mind better in order to know what it was that she wished for from him.

  “Where is it? Mayhap we should take it away to my mother’s home?” He proposed in place of any such action, though his arms itched to do so.

  Daegan her eyes uncharacteristically wet looked up at him hopefully, “Would you do that? I know that we promised not to move it Cormac, however I am not certain I could endure it for one night longer… not if I wish to resist opening it and wearing it!”

  “What wearing it?” Now Cormac’s voice arose to sound rather akin to his mother’s squawk, unable to imagine how she could dread the blood-gem yet desire to wear it all at once.

  “I do not understand it- one moment I wish it cast away from me, the next I long to have it nearer as though it were the only thing that could offer me comfort!” Daegan said so shrilly that he found that his mouth hung open in shock, to see her so consumed by distress.

  “Point me to it,” He said deciding then, to take away the Blood-Gem of Aganippe from her.

  Daegan to her credit raised a trembling finger towards one of the jugs-the same he realized that Corin had placed it in many a nights ago. Cormac moved towards it, only to jump several meters in the air it appeared, when he heard a great knock upon the door.

  “You did not invite Trygve or Indulf, to join us did you?” Daegan asked irritably.

  “Of course not,” He answered immediately, frowning also, “You open it, I shall hide the gem elsewhere, while you send away whoever is there.”

  Daegan nodded, climbing up to her feet to do as directed however the moment she opened the door a crack to send away whomsoever it was, just as he turned away for the moment. What he did not expect from her, was for her words to turn into a shrill shriek. “Hello? If you wish to have something forged, my papa is absent and- Cormac!”

  Cormac leapt a little in surprise, just as dark figure threw open the door stood tall in the doorway. The shadow that stood there, wore a raiment of blackness, of leaky shadows, his feet shod in large dark boots. Upon his brow he wore a war-helm which was topped with a crown of gleaming dark-silver that ended in steely-points, with the base of the helm curving up a little at the edges. The only thing that this terrible figure held in his hands, was a large torch that was the only means by which they were able to see him. As to his other hand, it rested upon the serpent-tipped pommel of the sword that was girded upon his belt.

  As shocked as Daegan by the great emptiness that stared back at the two of them, from within the war-helm, the dark-hauberk dressed shadow hissed at them with a voice deeper than the deepest of caverns yet was at the same time a more violent hiss than the most vile of serpents. There was also a jagged-edge to his horrid voice so that it was as though the very flesh, of the blonde-youth had been pierced by small steely daggers, of the coldest ice imaginable.

  “You… where art the most high of all gems?” Hissed the terrible cipher that stood in the doorway, his attention fixed upon Daegan who stared back at him frozen, so utterly terrified was she.

  It was slight, but when he realized she could not answer the shadow-rider who had come to haunt Glasvhail unsheathed the darkest of blades that Cormac had ever seen. So shadowy, so bleak was the colouration of this blade that it made Cosantóir’s original colour appear as bright as it presently appeared to be.

  Filled with a new dread, this one not for himself as the previous wave had been at the sight of this monstrous creature, as this was a fear for his closest friend. “Dae!” With that one syllable, spilling forth from his lips he made a great leap that no man, no Elf and no creature save the ancient star-dog Féavonoé had performed. This great star-dog being known to him only thanks to one of the ancient tales Wiglaf had once told him and was said to be the inspiration for one of their greatest songs.

  Tackling the scarlet-haired lass to the ground, so that a squeak that she had never before uttered in all her life escaped her throat, just as the ‘whoosh’ of the foul blade of the evil phantom sliced from side to side above their heads. It missed Cormac’s head by mere inches, cutting through his shoulder-length hair so that his tresses fell over the two of them not that either thought anything of this. Not while the sword sliced through a portion of the doorway, without the stone or the wood giving any resistance, much to their shock.

  A creaking noise filled the house, as a portion of the wall began to give way. This went largely unnoticed by the two of them, as the monster glared down at them, or so it appeared to the two tangled youths, who gaped up at him afraid. Their hearts beating so rapidly that Cormac expected them to tear themselves forth from their breasts.

  The phantom approached them, with the lad fully expecting him to enter the house to take another swipe at them, with his dreadful blade. However he did no such thing. The moment he sought to enter, a loud shriek was torn from somewhere deep within his helm. This only worsened the fear that froze the hearts of the two who lay on the ground, staring up at him with wide eyes.

  It took him a long moment to recover enough of his calm, to growl in the worst voice that either of them had ever heard, torch aloft in his left hand, “Burn, the both of you.”

  Such was the heat of his hatred that the flames might have paled in comparison. A view that he was determined to put to the test, as he cast down upon the thatch roofing of the house the torch. At once, the knowledge of what it was that he sought to do, caused Cormac’s heart shrivel with mortal fear. They could either burn to death in the house, or leap out of it to confront and perish at the shadowed-gauntlets of the phantom-rider.

  Indecision twisted him, fear froze Daegan whilst the flames hammered at the stones and wood, until all that remained within it was consumed.

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