Chapter 10: Chapter II: The Shadow Across the Sea 1.2

“It is evident,” Daegan pontificated a little pompously as was her wont much of the time, “That something must be done, if we wish to keep this gem from these riders, that uncle Murchadh spoke of with such terror.”

“Aye, his corpse must be hidden until it can be cremated and buried in his grave, as custom demands.” Wiglaf said before he moved to the more important matter of the gem. “We must see to also hiding away his last possession, less some unfortunate soul happen upon it, and is met with as sorry a fate as that of poor Murchadh.”

“No tears!” Corin commanded of the fisherman’s son, noticing how his head had begun to bend a little and his lower lip trembled. “This is a time for manly resolve from you Cormac, not childish tears. You have wits, therefore use them man! Use them! Once we have determined what is to be done, then there will be time for weeping and mourning.”

Harsh as his tone was, by the time he spoke of weeping his own voice had cracked a little, with the sorcerer and the pompous lass giving the two men sympathetic looks. Resentful as he was, at being told that he could not yet mourn for the father. The father who had once carried him upon his shoulders, who had taught him to fish, love the sea and to always seek out all the hiding places and secret locations of Glasvhail, Cormac swallowed his bitterness, as one might bile. With it, he swallowed the hot-words that came naturally as they did to all Caleds.

“Very well, what are we to do? We cannot possibly hide this forever from mother,” Said the seamstress’s son hoarsely, as Daegan touched his arm once more, pity in her eyes.

“What of these riders whom Murchadh spoke of? Who are they?” Corin asked now of Wiglaf, who cast a helpless glance to either of them.

“I do not know, I have no knowledge or recollection of any ‘riders’ of any import beyond the knights of Gallia or of the rest of the world. Mayhap the masters of the Order will know something regarding the gem and them.” He declared quietly, steeling his resolve once more, he climbed up to his feet, dusted himself and made to leave. “I must away at once if I am to discover anything with regards to the matters of which we spoke.”

He was at the door in a heartbeat, so serious did he take the situation that he very nearly forgot his hat along with the questions that continued to be peppered after him.

“I’faith, what of the corpse man? The corpse!” Complained Corin.

Stolen story; please report.

“Are these riders dangerous? Are they the ones responsible for Inga’s murder?” This time it was Daegan who cried out with equal frustration.

“What are we to do about this gem? Do we open the container?” Asked Cormac.

It was this last query that was responsible for panicking the old man, who let slip a rather peculiar expletive, “By the bones of Lugh! NAY! NAY! NAY! You must never open it, less just as when the box was opened by Pandora, all evil may escape!”

“What sort of evil?”

“The worst kind, I imagine therefore you must hide it somewhere until I have researched its nature,” Here the sorcerer harrumphed as he pinched the lad’s ear sternly, doing a fair imitation the youngster noted irritably of Kenna.

Wincing in pain, he nodded sulkily wishing at that moment that Wiglaf and Kenna would simply cease behaving as though he were an imbecile. Grumbling beneath his breath, he swore to not speak of what had transpired to anyone and to not open the locket that contained the Blood-Gem. It was as he did so that Corin found a jug of wine that was at present empty, which he moved so that it stood the second-most to the right on a table which stood to the rear of the house.

“Why not bury the gem?” Daegan inquired confused, from where she stood next to Cormac, tending him support if only by the touch of her hand to his.

“Likely if it is as cursed as Wiglaf says,” Grunted the blacksmith wearily, the whole of the night’s suffering and day’s toil showing itself on his typically kindly disposition. “It shall only darken the land here, and lay some dark, malevolent curse upon all who live here. Remember where it is, until the morrow. Then we shall move it elsewhere, where none may find it.”

“Aye father,” Daegan assented at once, with an anxious glance to Murchadh’s corpse, “What of uncle Murchadh?”

“At ease fille,” Corin said soothingly as he reflexively turned now to his native tongue if temporarily, “None are likely to visit on the morrow, therefore if we hide him in here and wait until night-fall, we should be able to cremate him and bury him properly in secret.” At their nods he waved them away, “Now off with you Cormac, less Kenna should grow all the more suspicious and come sniffing about this place in search of you.”

It was on the tip of Cormac’s tongue to point that his mother was hardly liable to do any such thing, given her hostility towards him. However fatigue got the better of him, wherefore he let his wounded feelings depart, desperate as he was for sleep he simply nodded several times. He left for home with nary a thought to his mother, whom he discovered already asleep by his return if her snoring, was anything to judge by. It was as the darkness of sleep overwhelmed him that he finally gave in, to the urge to weep for his father. To weep for the man he had never properly known, and had desperately wished to know with all his heart and soul. His tears were to cease, only when he long last fell asleep. His dreams for their part were clouded by dark-riders, and darker words so that the next morn’ he awoke, feeling as though he had hardly slept and in a cold sweat that remained with him throughout the whole of the following day.