Pure

A hand frantically shook Finten’s shoulder. “Finten, wake up.

Finten opened his eyes, his heart pounding. “Yes?” Conall was looking at him from the side of the bed. He must be standing on the frame of the bed below.

“Get up. It’s Ehir.”

Finten sat up quickly. The others were either awake, or waking up. He climbed stiffly off the bed. “What happened?”

Conall was frowning. “A girl from the tavern on the east side of town brought a message that Ehir is causing trouble there. Apparently he’s been getting increasingly agitated, so they cleared the tavern out, but they need us to come get him before his temper gets out of hand.”

“Shite. I forgot to make sure he got back before I went to sleep.” Finten let out a breath and rubbed his face. He was so tired. “Yeah, let’s go get Ehir, boys.”

There were sleepy grunts of assent as Finten led the way out of the room.

The bright sunlight wasn’t welcome in Finten’s sleepy eyes, but it did get his body to wake up a bit more. They all moved quicker than they felt like moving to the east side of town. When they neared the tavern, Finten could see a large group of people out front, craning their necks to see through the tavern doors and windows. When they got closer, he could hear Ehir screaming out an angry rant inside, interspersed with the occasional sound of something crashing against a wall or the floor.

Finten swallowed. Things were much more out of hand than he’d thought.

He turned to the others. “Just…wait out here for a bit. Give me a minute with him.”

They nodded, expressions of concern and worry on their faces.

Finten turned and made his way through the crowd to the front door of the tavern. People quickly shifted, making way for him to pass through. When he reached the open door and peered in, Ehir’s yelling abruptly stopped. He was standing near the back of the room, staring at Finten, a piece of broken furniture in his hand. His short brown hair was wildly sticking up all over his head and he had a deranged look in his eyes.

The room was in shambles, broken furniture was scattered around the room, along with smashed dishes and bottles. There was liquid dripping down the walls from where Ehir had thrown bottles across the room to smash against the wall.

“Took you long enough,” Ehir snarled.

Finten held his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. “Let me take you home, Ehir. You need sleep.”

Ehir threw his head back and laughed, but there wasn’t any mirth in it. “Sleep? Yeah, I need sleep. Permanent sleep, Finten. I can’t do this anymore.”

Finten shook his head. He edged into the room, slowly making his way around and over the mess. “I know it’s been especially difficult lately, we’re all tired, Ehir. Just-”

“No, Finten. I’m done. I can feel the turn coming on me. I need you to end me.”

Finten paused and looked up at Ehir. His shoulders were sagging, his eyes were hollow and haunted.

“Please.”

Finten shook his head. “No. Don’t ask me to do that. If you can’t do this anymore, leave. Release your claim on this land and go. Some of the others would go with you.”

Ehir shook his head. Something subtle in his posture or stance changed. “It’s too late for that.” His voice was devoid of emotion now. He hefted the broken piece of furniture in his hand, looking it up and down as if assessing its strength.

“Ehir?”

Ehir looked up at Finten again, there was no expression in his golden eyes. “I can make you do it.” He swung the splintered wood experimentally.

“Ehir, why did you wait so long? Why didn’t you leave a long time ago?” Finten asked, sorrow squeezing his chest.

“This is my home, Finten. I never wanted to leave. I just wanted to protect it.” He raised his improvised club and charged towards Finten, his face twisted with fury.

***

Maigred arrived in time to see Finten’s men rushing inside, through the crowd of people that were clustered around the front of the tavern.

She waded into the gathering, pushing her way towards the front. There were loud cries, and banging coming from inside. Maigred spotted the owner of the tavern standing in front of a broken widow, a furious expression on his face. She moved towards him, squeezing past people, her basket still dangling from her arm.

“Aodh, what’s happening?”

He glanced at her then looked back inside. “Maigred. It’s been a long time.” There was a loud crashing noise from inside and Aodh swore loudly. “You’ll be paying for the damage, Finten!” He shouted through the window.

Maigred peered into the broken opening. She was surprised to see Finten pinning one of his men to the floor, his four other men were standing or kneeling around him. They were conversing loudly, voices overlapping, interrupting, rising steadily in volume. Their body language showed deep worry and frustration. The only thing Maigred could make out was they seemed to be trying to calm down the man that was pinned to the floor.

She would have encouraged a more peaceful tone of voice.

Suddenly the man on the floor writhed in Finten’s grasp. He succeeded in throwing him to the side, but the four other men immediately threw themselves on top of him so that he couldn’t get up. Maigred stared as all five men frantically tried to wrestle the one man back to the floor. Based on the shouting, the man’s name was Ehir.

Even though they were clearly trying their best, Ehir seemed to be getting stronger. He was throwing his friends off of him with greater ease as the fight went on. His eyes were beginning to glow red. Maigred’s breath caught in her throat.

Her fingers unconsciously curled around the knife handle at her waist.

Maigred realized that Finten was the only one in the fight who was bleeding. Blood was streaming from his nose and also from several scratches on his face and arms.

The men finally succeeded in getting Ehir under control again. Finten was behind him, his arms wrapped around his chest and his legs hooked around his waist. Two of the others each had hold of one of Ehir’s arms and the last two men were struggling to pin Ehir’s legs to the floor. Ehir was jerking and spasming in their grasp, screaming like he was being torn apart. Something about his face was wrong and there seemed to be something squirming under his skin.

Finten’s eyes flashed up towards the watching crowd. “A knife! We need a knife!”

No one reacted to his request.

“Please!” Finten’s voice was strained.

Maigred started. She had a knife. She quickly began shoving her way through the still staring observers towards the doorway. She dove through the opening, and pulled the knife from its sheath. Finten’s eyes caught on hers. He looked desperate and scared.

She had meant to hand the knife to Finten, but he was barely holding onto the screaming thrashing man. So instead she laid a hand on Ehir’s chest, she could feel chaotic energy wrenching its way through his body. Something deep inside her recognized that it was too late for Ehir and if something wasn’t done now, it would be too late for them as well.

She set the tip of her blade against his heaving, jerking chest and hesitated. Who was she to visit death on someone? A hearth maiden was supposed to be a protector and nurturer.

Her mind flashed back to Aoibh’s story of how their tarasque had destroyed his own town. She clenched her jaw. She was not going let that happen here. She rose up and adjusted her grip on the knife, then she bore down with all of her might, her full weight behind her thrust.

The knife sliced into Ehir’s chest with a wet, grinding sound and got stuck with the blade only halfway in. Ehir’s body went rigid. Finten took the opportunity to reach up and wrap his hands around Maigred’s. His grip was hard and unyielding, crushing Maigred’s fingers against the knife handle. He jerked the knife all the way into Ehir’s chest.

Ehir’s body went limp and silent.

Finten released Maigred. He reached up with one blood drenched hand and cradled Ehir’s head to his chest. “I’m so sorry, brother. Be at peace.”