boots as the murderers went out the door, leaving it ajar in their haste. She did not move. She needed to be certain that the two men had gone.
Soon the bedchamber began to fill with thick smoke. Gasping, her lungs burning with the acrid smell, Brenna realized that she could no longer lie where she was. Slowly, painfully, her head spinning dizzily, she crawled toward the open door and out into the atrium. There was no furniture to burn here as in the other rooms. Although the atrium was filling quickly with thick, black smoke, she knew her way to the door. Nausea almost overwhelmed her, and using a pillar for balance, she retched, racked by dry spasms, but she pulled herself to her feet. With an iron will Brenna stumbled across the atrium to the main entrance of the house. Pulling on the door handle, she staggered out into the cool, damp night air and collapsed several feet from the villa.
There was no one in sight. The assailants had gone. Brenna gulped in the clean air, noisily cleansing her lungs of the foul-smelling smoke. Above her a full moon beamed down placidly on the scene of the slaughter.
She had to find Cailin!
Instead, Cailin found her. She came running down the lane, her long hair flying, but seeing her grandmother on the ground, the girl stopped and knelt down.
“Grandmother! The house is on fire! What has happened? Where are Mother and Father? My brothers?” She grasped the older woman by her arms, pulling her up. Brenna groaned. “Ohh! You are hurt, Grandmother! Why is there nobody to help? Why are the slaves not back from their celebrations?”
“Come away, my child! We must get away from the villa! We are in mortal danger! Help me! Hurry!” Brenna told her.
“The family?”
Cailin repeated, already knowing in her heart the answer her grandmother would give.
“Dead. All of them. Come now, and help me. We are not safe here, Cailin. You must believe me, my precious one,” Brenna said, sobbing.
“Why can’t we wait for the slaves to return? We must inform the authorities,” Cailin said desperately.
Brenna looked into her granddaughter’s face. “I have no time to explain this to you now. You must trust me if you wish to live a long life. Come now, and help me. I am weak from loss of blood, and we have a ways to go before we are safe.”
Cailin felt frightened. “Where are we going, Grandmother?”
“There is only one place we can go, my child. To the Dobunni. To your grandfather, Berikos. Only he can keep us safe from this evil.” Grasping her granddaughter’s arm, Brenna began to walk. “ ‘Tis but a few miles, although you did not know that, did you? Your whole life you have lived but a few miles from Berikos, and you did not know it.” Then Brenna fell silent, realizing that she needed her strength if she was to get them to their destination alive. Berikos must know what had happened. Then, if the gods willed it, she would die.
But Berikos must know
.
“I do not know the way,” Cailin whimpered. “Can you show me the way, Grandmother?”
The old woman nodded, but said nothing more.
They left the beaten path, and Brenna led her granddaughter up one hill and then down another. They made their way through a small, dense wood with only the light of the bright moon to show them the way. The night was silent, for the creatures belonging to it had long ceased their songs. Here and there a bird would trill nervously, certain that the bright white light signaled the dawn. Occasionally they would rest, but Brenna dared not stop for long. She did not fear pursuit, but rather she feared her own mortality. They crossed a large grassy meadow where deer were grazing inthe early light, and then entered a second wood. Above them the sky was visibly lightening. They had been traveling for some time now, and Cailin had the feeling that they were moving up.
“How much farther is it, Grandmother?” Cailin asked after they had been walking for several hours, mostly uphill. She was weary
Soon the bedchamber began to fill with thick smoke. Gasping, her lungs burning with the acrid smell, Brenna realized that she could no longer lie where she was. Slowly, painfully, her head spinning dizzily, she crawled toward the open door and out into the atrium. There was no furniture to burn here as in the other rooms. Although the atrium was filling quickly with thick, black smoke, she knew her way to the door. Nausea almost overwhelmed her, and using a pillar for balance, she retched, racked by dry spasms, but she pulled herself to her feet. With an iron will Brenna stumbled across the atrium to the main entrance of the house. Pulling on the door handle, she staggered out into the cool, damp night air and collapsed several feet from the villa.
There was no one in sight. The assailants had gone. Brenna gulped in the clean air, noisily cleansing her lungs of the foul-smelling smoke. Above her a full moon beamed down placidly on the scene of the slaughter.
She had to find Cailin!
Instead, Cailin found her. She came running down the lane, her long hair flying, but seeing her grandmother on the ground, the girl stopped and knelt down.
“Grandmother! The house is on fire! What has happened? Where are Mother and Father? My brothers?” She grasped the older woman by her arms, pulling her up. Brenna groaned. “Ohh! You are hurt, Grandmother! Why is there nobody to help? Why are the slaves not back from their celebrations?”
“Come away, my child! We must get away from the villa! We are in mortal danger! Help me! Hurry!” Brenna told her.
“The family?”
Cailin repeated, already knowing in her heart the answer her grandmother would give.
“Dead. All of them. Come now, and help me. We are not safe here, Cailin. You must believe me, my precious one,” Brenna said, sobbing.
“Why can’t we wait for the slaves to return? We must inform the authorities,” Cailin said desperately.
Brenna looked into her granddaughter’s face. “I have no time to explain this to you now. You must trust me if you wish to live a long life. Come now, and help me. I am weak from loss of blood, and we have a ways to go before we are safe.”
Cailin felt frightened. “Where are we going, Grandmother?”
“There is only one place we can go, my child. To the Dobunni. To your grandfather, Berikos. Only he can keep us safe from this evil.” Grasping her granddaughter’s arm, Brenna began to walk. “ ‘Tis but a few miles, although you did not know that, did you? Your whole life you have lived but a few miles from Berikos, and you did not know it.” Then Brenna fell silent, realizing that she needed her strength if she was to get them to their destination alive. Berikos must know what had happened. Then, if the gods willed it, she would die.
But Berikos must know
.
“I do not know the way,” Cailin whimpered. “Can you show me the way, Grandmother?”
The old woman nodded, but said nothing more.
They left the beaten path, and Brenna led her granddaughter up one hill and then down another. They made their way through a small, dense wood with only the light of the bright moon to show them the way. The night was silent, for the creatures belonging to it had long ceased their songs. Here and there a bird would trill nervously, certain that the bright white light signaled the dawn. Occasionally they would rest, but Brenna dared not stop for long. She did not fear pursuit, but rather she feared her own mortality. They crossed a large grassy meadow where deer were grazing inthe early light, and then entered a second wood. Above them the sky was visibly lightening. They had been traveling for some time now, and Cailin had the feeling that they were moving up.
“How much farther is it, Grandmother?” Cailin asked after they had been walking for several hours, mostly uphill. She was weary
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