The Endless Circle - Chapter 10: Pursuit

"The roof had become a bonfire,
smoke pouring upwards from the blazing thatch."

Balor ducked as the dull explosion ripped through the air; a fraction of a second later a blast of heat singed his face. He glanced out from the doorway where he was hiding. Everything was in chaos: people were running backwards and forwards through a billowing cloud of black smoke, shouting, crying, bleeding.

He looked around, trying to find Mother’s face in the confusion. He had lost hold of her as soon as the men had stormed up the beach and the soldiers guarding them had fled in the face of the attack. The women had scattered in panic, coming between Mother and him and wrenching his hand from hers. He had cried out for her and stumbled around desperately, hoping she would come back for him, but then the fighting had come upon him and he had run away, looking for shelter from the noise and violence. He had come upon the doorway and crouched there, his eyes tightly closed and his hands clamped over his ears, until the blast shook the door-posts and he looked out to see what had happened.

He could not make out much. The air was filling fast with black smoke, and the people dashing about were already little more than silhouettes. A gust of wind came in off the sea, clearing the air for a moment, and in that second he caught a glimpse of his house. He gasped. The roof had become a bonfire, smoke pouring upwards from the blazing thatch. The men and women were trying desperately to put it out, all thoughts of battle forgotten. Already the flames were reaching out to neighbouring houses: even as he watched another roof caught alight, and a fresh blast of heat rolled over him as cries of despair rose from the villagers.

The Endless Circle - Chapter 9: Arrest

"A slim blade sprang from nowhere and pressed against his cheek."

Banac’s stomach lurched. Balor clenched his hand tightly, and Mother drew them close. Banac could feel her hands trembling as she held their shoulders. He was breathless, tense, his mind whirling as he tried to take in what he had just heard.

No-one moved. Everyone was waiting to hear what the Elder would say. But Agwaen did not speak. He stood with the blade almost touching his throat and stared calmly at Aedwyc. The younger man began to grow visibly agitated. His arm trembled with the effort of keeping his sword raised, and his tongue darted out to moisten dry lips.

“What do you say, old man?” he snapped impatiently. “Will you tell me where this Beorod is cowering?”

Still Agwaen said nothing. Aedwyc clenched his teeth and raised the sword a little more. “Why do you protect him?” he said. “What is he worth to you? Must I put fire to these houses and swords to your women before I have an answer from you?”

“Aedwyc.” The voice was quiet, but it startled him so that he dropped his sword-arm. He turned, and the whole village turned with him to see who had spoken.

The Endless Circle - Chapter 8: The Baron's Men

"... a column of riders on great war-horses,
their mighty hooves tearing up the packed earth ..."

Banac and Balor were stiff and bleary-eyed when they woke from restless sleep the next morning. However, only Balor was ordered out of bed to start the day’s chores; and when he pointed out how unfair this was — quite reasonably, he thought — Mother slapped him on the thigh and told him not to be so unfeeling towards his brother.

While Balor howled to high heaven Banac lay with his face to the wall, ignoring the drama. Normally he would have enjoyed seeing his brother get into trouble, but on that morning he barely noticed. He was distracted, restless. Maybe it was an ache in his limbs that had started during the night; maybe it was tiredness from staying up late with Balor; maybe it was the tangle of unsolved mysteries going round and round in the back of his head.

Whatever it was, Banac felt he could not care about such petty things any more, and he lay unmoving as he listened to the sounds of the village and his family getting up and ready for the day.

The Endless Circle - Chapter 7: Pieces

When Balor arrived home Father was already there, sitting by the fire with a bowl of stew. He looked up when Balor came in, but he said nothing, and there was no suspicion in his eyes. Banac lay in bed, his face hidden, and Mother was busy with the fire. Grandfather was sitting in a corner, praying as usual. Balor’s eyes strayed over to his own bed where the stranger lay, but he was still asleep, covered with many blankets, and Balor could hardly see him.

He was itching for a few moments alone with Banac, but as soon as Mother saw him she sent him out for firewood; and when he had brought the firewood she asked him to stack pots; and when he had stacked the pots she asked him to tidy the bed-clothes; and he had no choice but to obey.

Even when he had finished all of the tasks she had given him there was still no opportunity to talk, with Mother and Father sitting so close by. Balor fidgeted and played with his fingers, the desire to share his news eating away inside him. Banac did not seem bothered, and this made Balor even more restless. Did he not want to know what had been said in the hall? Was he not even the least bit interested?