“We would give our lives for you. What is hardest to bear is the guilt; for you risk yourself daily in struggling to complete this task for us.” Cormack’s voice was chillingly matter-of-fact.

“We can’t protect you,” said Diarmid bluntly. “We’re worse than useless, we’re just a burden to you.” I saw then that he held the small bundle of starwort shirts in his hands, heedless of the barbs, and they were close, so close to the burning coals. “I say, destroy these magical garments, leave off the task that consumes you, seek shelter with the holy brothers who can protect you from the sorceress. And if we are lost to the human world, what then? It matters little.”

This speech must have cost him dear, for I knew the desire for vengeance burned deep in his heart. I knew how Liam longed to return home and set things right with his father and his lands, before it was too late to salvage anything. And Conor; what of his pathway, his years of preparation, what of the villagers that spoke of him with awe as one of the wise ones? Who would take his place if he never returned to the mortal world?

“We should have made a boat, or raft,” said Padriac suddenly. “There are few settlements here; you could move a long way down the lake, going softly by dusk or dawn, under the trees close by the bank. I should have thought of it.” The others looked at him. “Well, it was an idea,” he said.

“Haven’t you been listening at all?” snapped Liam, frowning.

Padriac was stirring his pot over the fire again, brewing enough of the herbal tea to last me a day or two.

“Oh, yes,” he said tranquilly. “Sorcha will choose for all of us. What more is there to add?”

I felt Finbar’s grip on my mind relax and slowly withdraw, leaving me clean and empty. Conor’s presence, too, retreated as subtly as it had slipped into my head. They wanted me to make this decision alone. But there was no choice, not for me. I reached out for the bundle of weaving, and Diarmid passed it to me.

“Are you sure, Sorcha?” asked Liam quietly. I nodded. Unlike Finbar, I still knew which path I had to take. It seemed that, whatever happened to me, this much would not change.

“Very well,” said Liam. “We honor your decision. We will survive, and return again at midwinter.”

“We will not return here,” said Finbar in the faintest of voices, and as we all turned to look at him, he swayed and fell to the ground as if lifeless. Conor reached him first and knelt by him, shielding his face from the others.

“Get him up,” said Diarmid harshly. “It is nearly dawn.”

“What’s wrong with him, anyway?” Cormack was only marginally more sympathetic. “Haven’t heard a word out of him all night.”

“Tasted his first blood,” said Diarmid. “Takes them like that sometimes. Hasn’t the stomach for it. Yet he was keen enough at the kill. I’ve never seen a man hack so deep, nor twist the knife with such relish. Look at his hands.”