[COMPLETED] The Vixen and The Thief

Chapter 18

Beibhinn woke in the stillness of the night. The moon was gone and the blackness which follows midnight lay over the land. Her eyes barely perceived the tangle of thorns above her head as she lay listening. No sound. None at all. Not even the rustle of a hedgehog. Only her own heart. 

The night was pressing in upon her. Clawing at her fragile sanctuary, its long black fingers oozing beneath the bushes to find her out...she jerked upright, trying to suppress the feeling of eyes. Her limbs were heavy and cramped, a knot of furze after burrowing into her spine. Béibhinn paid it no heed. Unbreathing, she peered out into the deserted field. And she sensed evil, like a rabbit sensed a fox.

Away before her the hill rose, colourless under an empty sky, the trees on top hardly distinguishable form the darkness beyond.

Conn. Was he safe?

Beibhinn crawled out onto the dew drenched grass, the wetness soaking into her already damp clothes. No stars showed, nor moon, but still there remained enough light to dimly perceive the tussocks of grass.

 Almost devoid of fear, like one caught in the numb grip of a dream, Beibhinn began to scramble up the hill to the lios.

The black trees leaned over her as she approached. Leaned out to spy upon the interloper, their scraggy arms outstretched to draw her in. Her heart raced as she passed into their shadow, her limbs beginning to tremble. She caught the gnarled trunk of one, leaning against it for strength and the rough comfort of a tangible thing. Then peered beneath its boughs down into the dell.

She saw the bush first, in the very centre, it's weird light waxing and waning silently.

Terror froze her heart and the cry that might otherwise have come from her lips.

 It was so! It was a fairy rath. But if so...where was Con?

Icy coldness seeped through her as her eyes swept the cirle for him. A silver glimmer on the leaf carpet seized her eye and her gaze followed it, across the dell and over amid the further trees. Conn sat on a mossy stone in the shadows, his mouth half open, his face blank. 

Beibhinn caught her breath for beside...beside..an exquisite purple clad woman, whose pale hair shone. A carved harp was in her hands and she played it softly, though no sound was to be heard. Her face was delicate, her eyes were shards of ice.

There could be no error. It was Ailbhe.

Beibhinn's knees gave way beneath her, hands sliding down the trunk she sank onto the leaves.

Oh. Oh a thiarcis. she could feel herself shaking, violently, beyond her own power to control. Ailbhe! Ailbhe knew! She had Conn. Beibhinn gasped harsh breaths of cold air. What to do? To do? Oh a Dhia. Oh a Mhuire. Cabhair. Cabhair!

She  grasped the rough bark with her fingers, digging them in deep, she struggled onto her unwilling legs.

Ailbhe's music was slowly growing audible as her white, white fingers flickered over the strings. She was going to take him. Like Uncail, Gearóid, Ruadhán...no...

Beibhinn raised her hand to her foreheard, her shoulders, one by one, In ainm an Athair..agus an Mhac...agus an Spioraid Naofa...

No.

With unsteady steps she walked across the dell to Ailbhe. The music grew as she approached, the pale lady looking up to watch her come, her expression unchanged.

Then Beibhinn stood before her and Conn, her mind wiped blank by terror. Ailbhe's music grew sweeter, clearer, but Beibhinn could barely hear it over the buzzing in her ears.