Chapter 28: Chapter 28: It Takes A Seer

Murtagh found Saoirse convulsing on the floor, her whole body lifting, then throwing itself down, wrenching side-to-side, her eyes wide open, mouth gaping and gasping for air. He tied a cloth around her head, covering her eyes. Lighting a candle, he rolled the hot wax between his fingers, forming it into two soft balls and stuffing them into her ears. All the while counting to ten, “one . . .two . . .three . . .four . . .five . . .six . . .seven . . .eight . . .nine . . .ten,” and on “ten,” grasping her head between his hands and breathing into her open mouth. Untying his bedroll, he threw his blanket over her. “one . . .two . . .three . . .four . . .five . . .six . . .seven . . .eight . . .nine . . .ten.” He ripped the blanket off, breathed into her mouth, and threw it over her again. “one . . .two . . .three . . .”

When she could breathe on her own, when she moaned out his name, he dared to remove the wax from one of her ears. “Breathe in the colors,” he shouted. “Hold them in your mouth. Feel them pushing out your cheeks, swirling on your tongue. Now breathe them out, into the darkness, let the darkness take them.”

“So loud.” She put her hands over her ears.

“Breathe in, Saoirse. Breathe in the colors…”

It was hours before Saoirse could sit in a chair and speak.

“You were in the stables?” he asked.

In a rough whisper, she replied, “The witch looked right at me. She…she…” Her mouth was so dry. She began to cough, unable to stop. He wrapped her hands around a glass and helped her bring the water to her lips. When she had drunk her fill, she said, “The witch knew I was there.”

A knock at the door. “Young Miss, you are called to sup.”

Murtagh rose. “She is distressed about the witch's visit. She'll take her dinner later in her room.”

When the sound of the servant's footsteps had died away, Murtagh asked, “Was the prophecy true? Was the witch lying?”

“I don't know.” Pressing her lips together in a thin line, she recalled the witch's inky black aura. “Her aura was solid black. Yet, I think I would have seen quivers, fluctuations in it, if she'd been lying.”

“Black in black?” Murtagh's voice was filled with doubt. “Could you have seen lying black threads in black aura?”

“At first, she had no aura. She summoned it.”

Murtagh wearily sat at the writing desk. “Dragons can hide their auras. They perfected the technique, to hide their intentions and emotions from each other. It was an extremely useful skill when negotiating treaties.”

Saoirse nodded. “I think she deliberately showed me her aura to tell me she was speaking the truth.”

He fidgeted, twirling the quill. “You must stay inside the castle, where you are protected.”

“No…No!” The coughing returned, the harshness rubbing her throat raw.

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“Listen to me.” Rising, Murtagh stood beside her, laying his hand on her arm. “The dragon can't get to you here. If it could, it would be here already. The beast must be terribly weak.”

“I'm not going to spend my last days in my room! I want to live. Besides, if the dragon does come, it will kill you, Alyse, father, everyone. I bring death.”

“Listen to what I am saying,” Murtagh’s tone was utterly patronizing. “If the dragon could attack this castle, it would. As long as no one but Alyse and I know about you, you are safe.”

“Safe? When I was eight years old, a mage took Nana! She's dead. I got her killed!” She screamed at him. “That witch knew I was a seer. She made my freckles sparkle. No one knows I'm magic?” She began to tremble again. “No one but a mage, a witch, and a dragon!”

“It is afraid of you. Repeat after me.”

“Stop it!”

“It takes a seer to kill a dragon.” His tone was that of a father speaking to an unruly child.

“One seer.” She held up a finger. “One seer killed a dragon, Seer Blackwell. No one knows how he did it.”

He put his hands on her shoulders, only to have her shake them off. “There is a technique called the hammer. I'll teach it to you.”

She yelled at him, full volume, her mouth two inches from his face. “You don't know anything!” She threw her hands into the air, her voice filled with loathing. “You and your books. You've never seen an aura or heard the music of the sea.”

“You are powerful; the dragon weak.”

“But it's still a dragon. The last one died beyond the gate, and with its last breath, it killed twenty-three people. How can I kill a beast whose hide cannot be pierced? A beast that flies and breathes fire?”

“I don't know, but I do know that Seer Blackwell killed a dragon.”

Exhausted, she wilted to the floor. “That's just a story told to children to give them hope.”

 

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