He travelled the road home with the oddest feeling of being followed or watched, though when he stopped to look there was no one about that he could tell. Now, he had a trip to make back again to make this one final delivery. A shortcut through the Wilson's field would cut his time in half and they wouldn't mind a bit. The field was well cut with defined lines of corn to make for good paths.

He was almost to the water well, just at the bend in the fence, when he felt it. A hand pressed against his chest and a quick, cold sensation at his neck. The parcel slipped from his fingers as did his lantern, as he felt a soothing warmth at his chest followed by a searing ache. He tried to tilt his head to watch his parcels fall, but the muscles in his neck wouldn't obey his commands. And then he fell. Had he willed this falling? He seemed to plummet for a thousand years before hitting harshly against the soaked ground below.

A chill set on him immediately, though he knew that the weather had been mild this week. The lantern was in his view as he lay there, its light turning to a dim blur. Someone moved before him, walking around him, shifting him. He tried to call out, but no sound would come. The light faded further, becoming a mere point in his view. He heard the person move around him yet again, some angry mumbled words and there was tug at his clothing until the pinpoint faded off completely.

And he began to fall again.

~~~~

Mayre purses her lips in anger as she stands in the doorway looking out at the road. No apple butter delivered as promised. She shall have to speak with the Alicia Connor about her son, Fionn. For now, there are people to feed breakfast. They shall just make do with that they have.

Ernie 03/2001


Field of Death: Part I

His left foot caught the edge of one of the pieces of wood as he danced, breaking the cross on the floor, and Ian came to a halt. Jaelyn struck a final mocking chord and Skye handed Ian a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his face. He nodded thanks to his wife, and then looked at the Bard.

"Was that lively enough for you, Mistress Bard?"

A few minutes earlier, Jaelyn had dragged him, and of all people, Elspeth O'Donnell, to their feet and demanded they dance to something lively. In a bit of a fey mood himself, Ian had laid out a cross on the floor with wood instead of swords and then taught the dance to Elspeth, setting the pace as fast as he could go. Lady O'Donnell had tried her best to keep up but finally dropped out, and if Ian had not been trying to show off he would have too. He called himself ten kinds of fool as he wiped his face again. He had forgotten how tiring that dance could be.

Jaelyn laughed. "I sit very impressed. And my desire to make others move and thus add a little liveliness to the room is sated... for now."

Ian jested with his wife and their friend for a few minutes, then suddenly became aware that Elspeth was calling him from across the room. She stood next to a distraught young man, and the expression on her face was enough to let Ian know something was wrong. He walked over to the two.

"What is it Elspeth?" Behind him Skye and Jaelyn had also approached.

"Something has happened to Fionn."

Ian frowned for a second, and then recalled the name. "Ah yes, the grocer's lad. What's wrong?"

"This is Jesib, Fionn's brother. He brings news of..."

"Fionn..." Jesib's face was pale.

"He has found him...where did you say?" Elspeth's voice was soothing, and her eyes full of concern. She gave Jesib's hand a squeeze. "Ian will do what he can...tell him exactly what you...how you found him."

Ian nodded. The young man obviously was in shock. "Tell me, Jesib. What is wrong with Fionn?"

Jesib swiped at his hair absently with a shaking hand and began again. "His… I went looking when he never came home last night. Maybe it's not him. He's probably at Becky Wilson's house now."

"Easy, lad. Take your time. What did you find?"

Elspeth laid a hand on the boy's arm. "Perhaps we should sit?"

"At the Wilson's farm. Fionn. I threw up. I'm sorry. I was sick from it and I think I got it on him." At Elspeth's touch, he began to cry uncontrollably, leaning into her.

"How long had he been missing, Jesib?"

Skye stepped closer. "Ian, perhaps you should go see what you can do." Her eyes widened slightly as she realized her husband's expression meant nothing could be done for Fionn now.

"My brother...on the Wilson's farm. I found him there. I..." Jesib took a breath, wiping his face with his sleeve "He was cold, so I covered him." He shrugged and shook his head.

Elspeth exchanged worried looks with Ian and Skye. The boy rubbed at his throat, the motion catching Ian's eye.

"Is that where he was hurt, Jesib? At the throat?"

Jesib nodded once, and then turned to look at Elspeth, "He's a good boy. Helpful with Mother and Father. Maybe I was wrong with it."

"I know, sweet. He has always been a good boy. But you must tell Ian what you know. Something must be done."

Skye touched Ian's mind briefly, letting him know she was going to give Jesib something to calm him. He nodded as she moved off to put some herbs in a cup of tea, and then he turned back to Elspeth and the boy. "Did it look like he struggled, Jesib?"

The boy shook his head.

Ian rubbed at the back of his own neck, then asked a final question. "Did Fionn have any enemies? Is there anyone you can think of who hated him enough to do this?"

Jesib shook his head again. So did Elspeth as she spoke. "He is a well-loved young man. Both the boys are quite popular." She took the mug of tea Skye handed her and gave it to Jesib.

"Alright. You stay here, get your bearings. When you feel up to it one of my men will take you home to tell your parents." Ian looked at Skye and Elspeth. "Will you ladies look after him for a bit?"

Skye nodded "Are you going out there?
He nodded, and then kissed her.
"I don't like this, Ian."
"Neither do I love, neither do I."

Blackthorn 3/2001 (rp)


Field of Death: The Dance

Suddenly she is running, wildly and without direction, no longer aware of the soft and cheerful chirp of crickets on an early spring night. The only course she knows is away. Away from the tall shadowed figured. Away from the glint of the blade in the light of the full moon. Away from what she was sure was her end.

She runs around a corner and then another and another, each path she takes looking the same in these old abandoned castle ruins. Why had she come here? The note had been so inviting, even as she had stared at it while she waited for her secret admirer to arrive. It had been many years since a man had shown interest in her. Could she be blamed for coming out on a cool night to see a possible suitor?

~~~~

Roisin had waited at the old gate, as indicated in the message. Yes, it was a silly chance. A dream, really. For so many years, not so much as a hello from the few eligible men in the surrounding area. She had begun to think it must be a prank. Perhaps that useless brother-in-law of hers. Her family had owned this land for many years. She and her older sister were the last of their line and Delilah was far too busy with her own family to trouble herself with the running of the land. No, it was her land to run.

~~~~

Run. Must run. No time to think, only run.

Around another corner she runs and then behind a large stone column, long ago toppled by time and fate. She leans back as far as she can into the shadow, pressing her back against a stone wall and holding her breath as she hears the crunching of boots against the sandy stone.

~~~~

She had nearly been ready to leave, taking one last look around what had once been the courtyard of the small castle. Not much more than a stone tower really with a few small buildings surrounding, and a wall around that. But even that had been gutted by fire long past. Now it was simply a curiosity, an interesting landmark on the property. A sound caused her to turn and peer into the dark shadows near the ruin. She called out, but there was no answer. When she saw the flash of moonlight on sharpened steel, she knew she must get away.

~~~~

Stupid! Stupid to have run INTO the ruins. It might have been better to flee toward the small path that had brought her here.

The thoughts race through her mind as she crouches in her shadow, listening to the steps of her hunter. A while later, the noise fades away and she releases her breath then stands to peer past the top of the stone.

There is no time to react. The stabbing pain in her side catches her off guard and she turns to look her hunter in the eyes as he looms out of the darkness. How wild, those eyes. How filled with rage. Within a blink, a gloved hand pushes her face away and an arm holds her tightly as another piercing pain catches her near the first. She cries out this time, her voice echoing off the stone walls around them.

The sound seems so weak and alone to her ears in the broad expanse of this starlit night.

She arches her back as she tries to escape with the little energy she has left, but it's over. Her limbs grow limp before her mind begins to fade. Her hunter moves with her to an open spot within the ruins, placing her there with care. With her last breath, she feels the small pouch at her belt being removed and then placed on top of her.

How still is the night now, and how loud seems the shrill chirp of insects as the darkness deepens. It grows colder in this pool of wetness she's laying in.

Ah, there, the sounds grow faint. She grows tired. So tired.

And sleep, her only choice.

Ernie 03/2001


Field of Death: The Third

"Cripes, man! What're ya doin'?!"

"I was playin' cards, is what! You was cheatin'."

Tuckian stands and leans toward the other man, "Was nae and donnae be callin' me a cheat when YOU was found with aces up yer sleeve."

The man smiles and holds up his hands, "Now now. No need fer anger, friend. Let me buy ya a drink."

Tuckian narrows his eyes at him then looks at the others sitting around the table and grins, "A drink it is, laddy. Who am I t turn down such a offer? B'sides, I'm done wi' card playin' fer th' night. Makes me eyes hurt almost as bad as me purse." The group laughs loudly and continues with their game, Tuckian leaning back to watch as the others play.

Unknown to them is a man at the window, watching their revelry. Tall with a graying beard, he wears a long brown scarf around his neck and a tattered cloak wrapped tightly over his shoulders. He turns and walks away, knowing that any attempt to enter the tavern might be met with argument, as the locals may not welcome one who is less fortunate than themselves.

He rounds a corner and opens a old wooden door, stepping through to the room within. It's a warm place, more for the fact that it's home than for the temperature in the room. It's mostly dark, with the rounded windows lit dimly by the moonlight beyond. He steps to the kitchen and fumbles in the darkness to light a candle then moves to the hearth to poke at the embers until they flame.

"Anthone! I'm home!" he calls out over his shoulder, "I don't know why you let it get so cold in here. We can afford to stay warm, at least." He moves from this small main room to an even smaller bedroom where sits a pair of beds set against opposite walls. "Anthone. Wake up and tell me about your day," he speaks toward the nearest bed where a form lies beneath a heavy blanket.

He takes a cloth from a hook by the door and dips it into a basin of water set on the dresser, "Mine was not without profit." He runs the cloth over his face as he looks in the mirror on the wall, "I convinced a merchant at the marketplace to buy some of the buttons I've collected. I told you that would come to provide for us one day."

He drapes the cloth over the side of the basin then turns again and frowns at the lump in the bed. "Anthone!" he says harshly, "Wake up, brother! Good Lord, man, you're going to sleep yourself to death." With that, he pulls the blanket away and instantly recoils at the sight of the injuries to is brother's body.

Anthone, it would seem, had a visitor tonight.

Ernie 03/2001