Fire Angels

A foretelling Chapter 1 part 1

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Part 1

FAMILY

Chapter 1

(Gallia. Over 100 years later)

Sitting dozing against the dark shed wall, I had another dream of the hungry woman and her glowing red eyes. Only a waking dream, thank Tansa! The fright woke me easily. In a jump I found myself back in Woolly the Meads rickety cowshed sitting cross-legged on the smelly straw with a crick in my neck. Grey light was seeping in through the cracks in the walls and from outside came the sound of raucous birdsong greeting the fresh dawn. Woolly was leaning over the stall chirruping at something and when I staggered stiffly to his side, I saw that the calf was up taking its first drink.

"A fine young lassie calf," beamed Woolly. "You've brung us luck again Madame Dion. Here."

Sleepily I took a gulp from the flask Woolly offered me and discovered too late that it was the fiery honey spirit which had given him his nickname. Drinking mead at dawn - it was definitely time to go home and after I had stopped coughing and he, torn between amusement and apologies, had stopped thumping my back, we went outside and he helped me saddle up Pony. Or rather he saddled Pony and I watched bleary-eyed with tiredness, while his wife came out of the hut and stood patting my arm and offering me a bed in their hut.

There was no chance of my staying with the Meads. A one room hut housing a family of seven is no place to catch up on sleep. I refused as politely as I could, tied the cheese and the flagon of mead that constituted my healers fee to the back of the saddle, hauled myself up and rode off into the misty morning.

The sky was still pale and faintly pink in the east. A heavy dew had silvered the grass and hedgerows. Still a country district like Cardun rises early. As I passed down the muddy track that wound through the village of Cardun, I could hear babies crying or early morning coughing, coming though the walls of the little thatched huts along the way. I met Big Petro and Jacko the Leg walking out to their fields with hoes over their backs and Maria Prima was already pulling weeds from among her veggies.

"You be careful Madame Dion," called Maria as I passed. "I saw them Wanderers passing through last night. The forest will be crawling with 'em."

Possibly she was looking for an argument for she looked a bit disappointed when I simply nodded and went on, but I was too tired to be bothered stopping and starting our usual wrangle in which I tried to convince her that Wanderers were entirely harmless and even worthwhile people and she maintained they were thieving drunkards and whores.

A little way beyond the village the forest began. Under the towering trees the air was redolent with the delicious smells of damp earth and sweet oil. It was the most delightful time of the day. Though the dawn chorus had ended, flocks of honey parrots were still squawking among the sweet oil blossoms and the silver calls of Kurrajongs still filled the air. It was so peaceful here with nobody else about. Pony ambled along steadily and I must have nodded off in the saddle.

Suddenly I was in the great cathedral again. It was roofless, its arches straining up at the sky like broken ribs, and up above the stars peered in at me watching, watching like hungry cats. Before me was a white statue of Mother Karana. So beautiful mother Karana, but as I stood marveling up at her, her eyes suddenly flickered to red. Glowing hungry red. She smiled a wet red smile. Cold shock went though me. I must run! I couldn't move! I must... Her claws bit into my arms. Her eyes. Oh God her hot red eyes. It felt like my heart was being pulled forth in a thin read line. The pain . The pain. Sucking out my soul, killing me. The agony, Oh God! No!