Barbarian

Chapter XIX

I feel my insides turn cold at the bloodcurdling cry. I don’t dare move, waiting to see if it is a onetime occurrence or if something is truly wrong. What I hear next sends my heart to my feet. 

A multitude of mournful screams join the first one and sounds of swords against sheaths rise up from the village centre. 

What ensues is sheer, bloody panic. The music is long gone and now, replacing it are shouts and cries as everyone on the field races as a pack for the village, ood and festivities completely forgotten. 

I jump to my feet and stare out over the stampede, trying to pick out Ailis, praying that she won’t get trampled by the villagers. 

Garrick’s hand snakes into mine and I take a deep breath. He’s here. With me. I don’t have to be afraid. 

Just trust Garrick, I tell myself. He knows what to do.

He pulls me off my chair and together we follow the crowd. The night is upon us and fiery torches from the village only seem to add fuel to the panic and disorder that has descended on the young villagers, so joyful and merry only moments before. 

We keep up from a distance as the mass of young men and woman race into the village. Many stumble and fall and are pushed to the side of the road, stepped on and unaided. Most don’t seem too injured and Garrick and I slip in between two huts, desperate to stay away from the hysterical herd of people, who seem to be heading straight for the village centre. 

We dart into the next major road and I recognize it as the craftmans’ path, where Earnan’s forge is. And that is directly where Garrick seems to be going. We hurry down the deserted street, shouts and screams hanging in the air and following us as we race away from the centre of the village. We slide to a stop in Earnan’s forge and Garrick drops my hand. With a grunt, he reaches for the nearest open crate filled with iron swords. He grabs a belt and scabbard from a nearby work table and ties it around his waist, slipping the sword into the scabbard afterwards. 

“Garrick.” My confidence is clear in my voice. In which case, I have none. “What is going on?”

He swivels to face me at the sound of my voice. His face is stoic and his jaw is clenched tightly. There is no hint of emotion in his eyes other than rugged determination and anger. “Think, Maeve. Think,” he says, but his voice is kind. 

“The Rogues are attacking?” I wince at how stupid my words sound. I know that I speak a lie. It isn’t the Rogues.

Garrick sighs and lays his hands on my shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Maeve.” His voice is soft. “I’m so terribly sorry.”

“What for?” My voice cracks and I can hear the screams in the background grow louder and the sound of clashing joins them. 

“I was an idiot. I knew this was coming. I knew this would happen…I should have sent you away. Somewhere safe.”

“No, Garrick.” I place my hand upon his cheek and my voice finally finds the tiniest bit of strength. “My place is here. With you and my sisters.”