The Sword of Feimhin by Frank P. Ryan

Author:Frank P. Ryan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quercus Publishing
Published: 2014-09-04T04:00:00+00:00

Trapped Between Opposing Forces

Kate knew that Granny Dew was nearby. She could sense her heavy head nodding, those all-seeing eyes staring down at the stupid girl whose eyes were caked shut, ensnared within the roots in the Momu’s chamber. Kate heard a heavy bare foot stamp against the floor of the chamber and that growly voice rise in fury.

‘Foolish child!’

‘I’m not foolish. I’m doing what I have to do.’

‘What madness possessed you?’

‘The Momu is dying.’

‘What is this obsession?’

Kate heard the roar of frustration and the thunderous detonations as the wooden staff crashed against the stony floor. The impact echoed and eddied around the walls with their proliferation of trunks and branches. Kate felt the force of the blow vibrate the cage of thick, fleshy roots that enclosed her body, leaving barely enough room for her chest to expand so she could breathe.

‘They’re all connected: the Momu, the Cill, the One Tree, the serpent-dragon, Nidhoggr. It’s all part of what the Tyrant is doing. All part of some kind of labyrinthine plan.’

‘Gullible heart! And how easily led is the mind that guides it. Little good would you do this confounded Momu, whose life you consider more precious than your own, with such a threat to your mortal self.’

‘My mortal self?’

‘See how the roots have gathered you up. The tree you thought to cure is now infesting you.’

‘Infesting?’

‘Never will it release you from its fastness – not willingly.’

‘But the tree is dying – and the roots …’

‘Pah! I know not if it is dying. But ravenous it most certainly is. And you have become a meal to its hunger.’

The idea was too frightening to bear thinking about. Kate’s eyes struggled to break open, but the lids were sewn up tight with gritty crud and she couldn’t free her hands. She fought to break one eye open a slit, but the effort utterly exhausted her.

‘What’s wrong with me?’ Her voice was the tiniest whisper. ‘What’s happening to me?’

‘When did you last taste a morsel of food? Or a sip of water? Have you entirely lost your wits, child?’

‘I – I just lay down here.’

‘And where, pray tell, is here? Look around. Look within and without.’

‘I’m imprisoned by the roots. I can’t move a muscle.’

Kate caught a blurry glimpse of Granny Dew through the slit of the one eye she had managed to open, her brooding face silhouetted against a flickering light. As she fought again, squeezing her eyes shut, then haltingly, agonisingly, forcing the lids a fraction more open, she saw the brooding figure squatting down in the dirt; her grey hair a flood that overflowed to the floor, the red pin-points that were the eyes of the spiders glinting in her dress. She felt the movement of the spiders as they forced their way in between the mesh of roots to wrap Kate’s shivering body in a weave of cobwebs.

‘Thank you. I knew you would save me.’

‘Ach – foolish girl!’

With a prolonged litany of curses, Granny Dew tore the roots from around

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