School started yesterday, I have some new teachers, some old and mainly rubbish teachers and I have just spent an hour looking at things preserved in formaldehyde, which apparently causes cancer. Oh joy, something else to look forward to. I am not in a good mood, and reviews would certainly make me feel better...(hint hint!)

MonDieu666-Thank you! I like the sick chapters, they show my incredible strong will and resolve...yeah right!

ElvenStar5-I might not kill any of them...or maybe I will. Haven't decided. (It always makes me feel better to know that some people are worse off than me. The 30th? Man, that's early. My brother broke up in like June and is going back on the 13th. Not fair!

Camreyn-I'll try. Do you think that my teachers will understand if I say 'sorry I didn't do my coursework, I've had to update my story for Camreyn?'. Thanks for the inspiration, as always.

slightly-psychotic-Yeah, I really hate them too. Please tell me if this turning into a mary-sue, as I will automatically correct this if it is.

ChildlikeEmpress-Were you on holiday? If so, I hope that you had a good time. I'm working on this fic as fast as I can, honest!

For all of the upcoming chapters in the foreseeable future, I'm using lyrics from the DreamTheater song Metropolis part I 'The Miracle and the Sleeper'. I think it sets the mood quite well. Tell me if you think it works.

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm

VII: Imbas Fire

Death is the first dance, eternal

Leofwen ran out wildly. "Guinevere!" she called into the stillness, though still no longer. "Guinevere!"

An unfamiliar hand on her shoulder made her whirl around, hand already going to her sword. "What's wrong?" she heard Arthur ask. She released her sword. "Ealusaid. She's bleeding badly and it won't stop"

Arthur said nothing but went to the wagon. Leofwen started to follow, but a sudden rush of bile entered her throat and stung her mouth. She instead ran into the woods. Her whole mind was fixed on her task, it was all that mattered. It stopped her from vomiting and sobbing. It even stopped her from thinking. All she knew was that she had to find Guinevere.

"Guinevere!" she called into the woodland. Guinevere leapt down, seemingly out of the sky.

"Leofwen, what?" Guinevere said.

"Ealusaid's bleeding, there's so much blood" Leofwen sobbed. Guinevere embraced her, but at the same time forced her to move. Leofwen gradually calmed down, and turned to Guinevere

"What were you doing up there?" she asked.

"I didn't trust Lancelot alone with my sister" Guinevere said grimly.

"Aibhilín's in the woods?" Leofwen asked. "Whatever possessed her to go there in the first place?"

"Imbas, probably" Guinevere said, just a touch bitterly.

They reached the wagon, and inside, they found Arthur, as blood-splattered as Leofwen. "I'm sorry" he said.

"She's dead?" Guinevere asked in a cold voice that trembled just a little.

"No, but she's in the sleeping state, of which no person can be awakened" Arthur said quietly.

"So she's as good as dead!" Leofwen yelled, tears of sorrow and anger falling down her cheeks.

"I have heard of cases where they wake..." Arthur's voice trailed off.

Guinevere took a deep breath, and sat beside Ealusaid. She pressed down the cotton bandages, hoping to staunch the flow of blood. Far from her natural and serene sleep, Ealusaid's face was contorted in pain and she was blood-coated. Guinevere sat by her quietly, as for all her faults, Guinevere loved her sister and her friends deeply. "She isn't dying" she said. "There are no Breaca sith" she said. Arthur looked confused.

"Breaca sith are the marks left on faces of the dying" Guinevere explained, though her voice shook.

Leofwen looked down, and she felt more tears springing to her eyes. On impulse, she ran out of the wagon and into the night. No one tried to follow her.

She ran further into the woods, tears blinding her sight and blood-streaked hands wiping them away. She sat down abruptly, put her head in her hands and sobbed.

Aibhilín looked up from Lancelot's arms and saw Leofwen sobbing. She twisted out of Lancelot's arms and ran clumsily over to Leofwen. "What is it?" she asked; Lancelot stood back respectfully, but watched curiously.

"Ealusaid"

Aibhilín nodded. "I know"

"Why did you ask then?" Leofwen snapped, her sobs turning to temper.

Aibhilín looked at the ground. Leofwen sighed. "I'm sorry" she apologised. Aibhilín moved next to her. She turned briefly to Lancelot.

"I can walk now. Thank you" she said courteously, planting a chaste kiss on his cheek. With her back to Leofwen, she missed the glare that her friend sent Lancelot.

Aibhilín found her way into the clearing again. It was night, almost exactly like the fateful and horror-filled night two weeks ago, except that the moon was new instead of full.

She walked up, through the darkness, until she was behind the figure standing solitary. She slipped her arms around him. He turned around and kissed her, slow and lingering.

She said nothing, but met fire with fire, and kissed him back equally passionately. She pulled him down, and she lay in the melting snow, him next to her. She ran her hands over him, enjoying the sparks that ran over her skin. This had been going on for a while. She somehow knew that secrecy was the best policy when it came to this. Guinevere and Leofwen weren't too receptive. Knowing that Ealusaid couldn't hear her, she sometimes whispered it to her. It was easier that keeping it all to herself. She wanted to revel in these feelings

"Wherever you go, I go" she whispered in his ear, her breath tickling his skin.

She didn't know that a pair of eyes glittered in the undergrowth, watching with malice.

Aibhilín crawled back into the wagon quietly. She was hoping not to attract the attention of Guinevere or Leofwen, whoever was watching Ealusaid. However, luck was not with her.

"Where were you, Aibhilín?" Guinevere's slightly accusing voice floated through to her.

"Nowhere" Aibhilín said. Guinevere reached over and plucked a piece of grass out of her hair. "Your hair's got snow in it" she said.

Aibhilín stared at her straight in the eyes. For some reason, this infuriated Guinevere more than anything else. "How can you?" she asked in a low voice. She turned away, on the pretence of dribbling water in Ealusaid's parched mouth.

"You're one to talk" Aibhilín said quietly.

Guinevere twisted around. "What do you mean?"

Aibhilín sat on her pallet and stared at Guinevere calmly. "You're envious of me, because I found love"

Guinevere gasped and slapped her sister harder than she though that she could. Aibhilín stared up at her defiantly.

"You act like you're the elder sister" she told her, rubbing her reddened cheek where Guinevere had slapped her.

"I've had to be" Guinevere told her. She was blushing a little, and secretly she was ashamed. She had never hit Aibhilín before except when they were playing, and Aibhilín's eyes told her that they were not playing.

"What do you mean?"

Guinevere sat down on her own pallet. "You never took responsibility for anything"

"I never took responsibility for anything?" Aibhilín asked disbelievingly. "I spent my whole childhood caring for you! As soon as Mother died giving you life I was made to take care of you"

"But you still found time to get promised, didn't you?" Guinevere said resentfully.

Aibhilín looked at her incredulously. "You know I never wanted that"

"But I do! You'd still have freedom, and you'd stay in Dauídh's favour. I on the other hand would just be pushed to the side and forgotten"

Aibhilín stared at her. "I wanted to switch placed with you. You could stay unmarried and independent, never having to answer to anyone"

Guinevere looked at her sister. Aibhilín stared back, but her green eyes were compassionate. "I'm sorry for slapping you" Guinevere said in a low voice"

"I'm sorry too" Aibhilín embraced her sister, and they sat next to one another on one pallet, as they used to do when they were little.

"Can you find it in your heart to be happy for me?" Aibhilín asked. "After all, we are in love"

"What!"

Leofwen woke up at Guinevere's shout. She lay there and listened to their conversation.

"We were together earlier" Aibhilín whispered.

"No!" Leofwen stood up. "This was not meant to happen"

Aibhilín looked up at her. "What do you mean?"

Guinevere looked at Leofwen, and they guiltily avoided looking at Aibhilín. However, she understood perfectly.

"So that night, you were there as well, Leofwen?" She asked coldly.

Leofwen nodded.

Aibhilín stared at her. "Why?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"You can't love him. You're promised" Leofwen reminded her.

"Like hell" Aibhilín said, getting up off of the pallet, and disappearing into the night. Guinevere made to follow her, but Leofwen held her back. "She's not going to want to see us" she reminded her.

Gawain was on guard. It was very quiet, the serfs were sleeping in freedom and the knights were sleeping off their sorrow. More than anything he wanted to sleep himself. When you slept, you didn't have to think. After what only felt like a minute, you woke up and you worked. Then you slept and didn't think. It was easier than

Suddenly, he heard a sound of talking. He stiffened and listened out carefully, but he could not make out the words. He was certain that they were coming from the woods, so very quietly he moved through the long grass, feeling its dew soak his skin.

Aibhilín was sitting on a rock. Her eyes were filmed over, and she was uttering to herself. The language was strange, but the tone was harsh and guttural. It made the cold around him colder and the dew on his skin seem poisonous.

He purposefully made a sound, hoping to startle her out of it, but she remained the same, prone position with the discordant words floating out of her mouth. Gawain walked over to her, moving around so that he was directly in front of her. Still she did not seem to feel his presence. He reached out and lightly placed one hand on her shoulder. She jumped, twisted around and ended up about five feet away from him, her bow drawn and ready. When she recognised Gawain, she let the bow drop.

"Relax lady" Gawain soothed her. "You seemed distressed, so I thought it best to pull you out of-whatever that was"

"An Aisling-a vision" Aibhilín told him, first in the Celtic tongue and then in the knight's language.

Gawain looked at her thoughtfully. Where he came from there were seers and such, but none quite like Aibhilín-warrior one minute, clairvoyant the next.

"Warrior prophets are highly prized in Woad culture" Aibhilín explained. She smiled as she saw his question written clearly on his face. "I had a feeling that was what you were going to ask" she told him. "How far is it to the wall?"

"Only another half-day"

"Gawain, I feel that something foul awaits my people at the wall" she said quietly. "We may need to leave quickly. If I do not get the chance, I wish to thank you for everything now"

"We're knights, it's what we do" Gawain said, truth be told, he was rather disturbed by Aibhilín and her prophecy. He longed to ask what it was that she saw, but he felt that she would only tell him things she was ready to tell him.

"This evil is not for you" she said quietly. "It is for us. The Woads"

Gawain nodded respectfully. Aibhilín stood up. "Get back on guard. Something is going to happen soon"

Gawain moved back to where he was. By the time he looked back, Aibhilín had blended into the trees.

Just before the morning came, in the darkest hour of the night, two people snuck through the woods. Their hair was dark and matted and their arms were covered with swirling blue tattoos. They moved silently, and the wind moved with them as though it was covering their noise.

Aibhilín was waiting in the woods, watching. The Woads moved through the knights, staying behind Gawain, who was oblivious. They moved completely silently, as though their feet weren't touching the ground. Aibhilín watched as they looked at each one, reading each face. They paused at Lancelot.

Aibhilín kept herself from moving forward as she heard them speak in her native tongue. She knew exactly what they were saying, and she didn't like it.

"This is him" they said. Aibhilín leant forward, listening intently.

"How can you tell?"

"He's a warrior" one of them whispered. "Nothing less would satisfy one of Dauídh's daughters"

There was a low laugh. "And also, this man's in love as much as she said he was"

Aibhilín had a shrewd idea who she was. She moved out of the trees.

"Please go" she said. The Woads looked at her disbelievingly and defiantly. "I am Aibhilín, daughter of Dauídh. I am promised to Taidhg son of Bhriain. I command you to go"

They looked at each other and slunk off. Aibhilín watched them go, hand around her bow. It was only when she was gone that she let herself sit down beside him. She sat there and watched him. When anyone started to stir, she moved back into the woods and watched from there.

Lancelot looked to the fort. Inside, there was his discharge paper. He was free to go back to Sarmatia and live a peaceful life there. He would never have to take up his sword again.

He didn't want to do that though.

He didn't have the Imbas, but he had a feeling that this was where he was meant to be.

For now anyway.

The next chapter is, at present, 3,133 words. It is one of my favourites, unlike this one, which is not my best work. The reason I like the next chapter? It's the romantic crap monster again. If my romantic crap does not satisfy, tell me.

Blessed Be

ChiaraStorm