The Sword of Feimhin by Frank P. Ryan

from the roof and filled three-quarters of the entrance, extending out in a wide semicircle into the ocean. A series of fractures had appeared over the quartz of the wall. It looked as if the seal might give way at any moment and the pressure of the ocean would swamp the city. The thought was so frightening that Kate reached up to touch the oraculum in her brow. She needed to be reassured that she still possessed the power of healing and restoring life. Now she closed her eyes and cast those powers about her,as if testing the pulsating green oraculum against the ravaged scenes that she was witnessing. But she soon realised that, even with the Second Power, she was helpless to cure the city. No power was capable of making it well again. The beautiful city would not return to healthy life.
    The finality of it caused her to fall to her knees.
    â€˜Greeneyes – is it you?’
    Kate’s eyes lifted to be confronted by a distressed figure, standing several yards away in the reddish gloom. The voice addressed her in a way she would have expected of her friend, but the figure didn’t look like Shaami at all. The voice was so hoarse it was little more than a croak.
    â€˜Oh, Shaami – is it truly you?’
    He had looked so delicate and graceful when last she saw him, but now he more resembled the hurt and tormented figure she had first encountered in the Tower of Bones. His flesh was so wasted it had become as transparent as smoke and those gorgeous turquoise eyes were now shrunken and abject within wells of grief.
    â€˜Come closer to me.’
    Kate watched the lovely irises contract and open again with what she knew must be deep emotion. ‘I cannot.’
    â€˜Why not?’
    â€˜I am not worthy.’
    â€˜Then I shall come to you.’ She climbed back onto her feet, went to him and hugged him to her breast. How scarecrow thin he had become! He resembled a wraith.
This is the despair the Momu talked about when she begged me to help herand her city
. Kate hugged him more fiercely. ‘I have come back to help you.’
    â€˜It is kind of you – as indeed you have ever been kind. But it is too late for Ulla Quemar. Too late for the Cill.’
    How it ground her heart into the dust to hear no music in his voice. The despair of loss had robbed him of that spiritual delight. Even the cruelty of Faltana, and the Great Witch herself, had not been capable of that. Kate felt tears moisten her eyes.
    â€˜Please don’t say that. Oh, Shaami, I hardly dare to ask you. But please tell me the Momu is not yet dead.’
    â€˜I don’t know.’ He began to tremble in her arms.
    Kate comforted him, but even as she did so she was struggling to come to terms with all she was witnessing. She tried to think beyond the contagious despair. She must find a way to help the Cill.
    Lifting her own tearful face, she was startled to be confronted by a kneeling creature, whose shrouded arms were crossed over its breast and whose face was coldly indifferent. Its eyes were reflecting grey mirrors, its octopus-like head shrouded in a heavy veil that trailed to the ground.
    She kept a protective arm about Shaami’s shoulders. ‘What is this creature?’
    â€˜It is a keeper.’
    â€˜What does that mean?’
    â€˜I do not know.’
    Kate felt a shiver of dread.
I should have listened to Driftwood
.How often had Bridey warned her about jumping into things with both feet.
Oh, Bridey – how I miss you and Darkie, and Uncle Fergal. How you must all be worrying about me, after I’ve been missing for so long. What must you be thinking? I couldn’t blame you if you were assuming the worst?
    Kate gritted her teeth. She took a breath or two to make herself calm down. The truth was that there were dark forces at work here that she didn’t understand one bit. She had sailed on towards calamity like … like what Bridey would have called the very worst feckin’ eeejit. The