Page 20 of Shaw

“After I meet with that King Merrick guy,” she said carefully, “will you try to take me back to the future?”

Once enough of her sisters had healed, Speal knew they should sail for Insii Orc so she could deliver the news of their latest failure to their sovereign. She had some confidence that she could persuade Derdrui to punish only her and not the others, and had even decided on which sister to recommend as her replacement. Then she would cut her own throat before the enchantress could begin tormenting her, ending cleanly her long and miserable existence. All this she would have done by now, save for one problem.

“We saw that thing,” Mace said as she thumped a cup of brew in front of Speal. “It wore Fiacail’s face, and used her voice. Only Fia’s dead. ’Tis a trick by the enchantress. She seeks test our loyalty.”

She took a sip of the watery brew before she shook her head. “Our sister didnae die in the sea. A merrow found and healed her. She now serves him.”

“Merrows, they’re but stories mortals tell their bairns so they dinnae stray into water and drown,” another of their sisters scoffed. “Ever see you one?”

“It matters no’,” Speal said. “For her master, Fia wishes parlay with the enchantress. He’s building a shifter army so he may attack the MacMar on their island.”

“We need capture the merrow and make him tell us where we may find the clan,” Mace said flatly. “Then we may tell the enchantress their location, which shall surely gladden her, and save our hides.”

“Or he may destroy us all before our sovereign has the chance.” Speal’s hand shook, and she set down the cup before she spilled it. “’Twas Fiacail, altered and made cold by our betrayal, but still our sister. I reckon she desires vengeance for Dearg’s attack, or she yet cares for us.”

One of the Cait Sith with a half-burned face reached out to touch her arm. “’Twasnae your doing. We all ken you wished save her.”

“If we return to Insii Orc without the location of the clan, Derdrui may slay us all.” She knew she should make the sacrifice to protect her sisters rather than put her trust in Fiacail or her sister’s new master, and yet something gave her pause. “Should our sister return to us with her master, shall we parlay with them first? For we possess the enchantress, and they the clan.”

Mace chuckled. “We might take them to meet our sovereign, and simply step back and watch.”

Speal nodded. “If naught else Derdrui may take out her anger against this merrow male. Fiacail shallnae permit her try again to murder her, and even if she did… She’s changed now.”

“Made part fish, and those teeth.” The burned sister shuddered.

“Very well. We shall wait until Fiacail returns, and then ask to parlay with her merrow master.” Speal rose to her feet. “Mace, I need three sisters accompany me so we may bury our dead left behind on the island.”

“None shall return there for fear of that black butcher,” her sister said. “I shall go with you. Together we can manage.”

In the remaining skiff Speal put two spades, which Mace took out and replaced with two unlit torches. In that moment she knew why the other shifter had offered to go with her, and why they wouldn’t need anyone else to aid them. Once they lowered the small boat down to the water, she descended the rope ladder and sat on the back bench, waiting until Mace took her position at the bow before she began rowing away from the fisher.

“’Twas Tiene’s wish that you burn her?” Speal asked her.

“The villagers who took us after our kin died kept us bound in a root cellar after dark,” Mace said, her expression darkening. “’Twas naught but a hole dug in the ground and covered with boughs and clods of dirt, in which insects crept. Tiene thought the walls would someday collapse on us, and we’d end buried alive.”

“’Twas why you slaughtered everyone in your village when you became full grown, then.” Speal had always heard the story, but never the reason behind their savagery. “So you promised her no grave.”

“Burning, ’tis cleaner than burying. She didnae wish become fodder for the insects.” Mace turned around and picked up the second set of oars to begin rowing from the front.

With the two of them working together they reached the island where the dark one had attacked them. Speal dragged the skiff onto the shore and tied it off to a weathered rock before stowing the oars under the seats. While she did Mace used a firesteel to light the two torches, handing one to her before they started walking across to the other side of the island.

The dark one had come after nightfall, and with the daylight now Speal could see plainly the evidence of its horrendous attack on the Cait Sith. Swathes of dried blood covered the large rocks; the very ground appeared torn as if by some giant claws. Yet when they reached the place where they had left the corpses of the slain, none of them remained.

“Here. She lay here.” Mace crouched down to touch a depression in the trampled grass, and then rose again and looked out at the shoreline. “She wouldnae crawl into the sea, surely.”

Speal saw a stained length of blue ribbon caught in some grass, and spied some lace beyond it. “Dearg wore these.”

They followed the tattered bits from the battle scene to the sand dunes, where long furrows led down to the surf. Speal knelt down to touch a dark patch, and then brought her fingers to her nose.

“Dearg.” She held out her hand for Mace to sniff. “Someone dragged her into the water.”

“Someone, or something?” the other Cait Sith muttered as she walked down to something sticking out of the sand.

Speal watched her take hold of the long, blackened snake, which remained limp even as she wrested it from the sand. It came attached to a man’s buttocks, like a tail. With that arse came a leg and hips, although they were gray and white instead of pink.

“’Tis all one thing.” Mace tossed the remains up beyond the tide mark before she began to dig again, this time pulling an arm and most of a chest from the sand. “Burned before ’twas torn apart.”

Speal waited until she had recovered most of the creature before she walked over and watched as the other shifter began arranging the parts. The only thing missing appeared to be the head. “’Twasnae mortal.”