Night of the Fifth Moon by Anna Ciddor Read Free Book Online Page A

mine!’
    â€˜Not now, it isn’t!’ Lorccán waved it in the air.
    Blazing with fury, Ket launched himself at Lorccán. The other boy twisted and struggled, but Ket hung on, clawing at his arm, till the stone was back in his grasp. Triumphantly, he spun round and flung it towards the trees.
    â€˜There!’ he panted. ‘It’s gone!’
    â€˜Ha, I can find it,’ retorted Lorccán. He tried to step away, but Ket seized his léine. There was a loud ripping noise.
    â€˜Ket!’ It was the shocked voice of Faelán. ‘What is this rough behaviour?’
    Ket dropped Lorccán’s sleeve as if it were burning his hands and turned to face the druid.
    â€˜Young man, this is not the behaviour I expect from someone who aspires to be a druid.’
    Ket’s cheeks flared. From the corner of his eye, he saw Lorccán sidle towards the stone. He clenched his jaw.
    â€˜You have disappointed me,’ the druid continued, shaking his head. Then he glanced up at the sky. ‘Now, it is getting late . . .’
    Lorccán stopped moving and all the fosterlings stared with dismay at the setting sun. Soon, the Spirits of the Dead would begin to stir.
    Ket’s eyes fell to the cairn. In the sunset, the rocks glowed pink.
    â€˜And they’re not all rocks,’ Ket remembered, his stomach twisting, ‘some of them are skulls.’
    He felt for the comfort of the red string at his wrist, and found nothing. He looked down. The string was gone. It must have been torn off when he struggled with Lorccán for the stone. He was gripped by a feeling of panic.
    â€˜I must start my vigil,’ Faelán announced.
    Tonight the druid would stand waiting and watching on the peak of the cairn, with the dead beneath him and firewood laid ready at his feet. Far off in Uisnech, when the Old Year ended, the leader of the druids would light the first spark to signal the New Year. Then a message of fire would spread across the land from peak to peak as every watching druid lit a flame.
    â€˜Who will carry my firewood up the cairn?’ inquired Faelán.
    â€˜Not me,’ whimpered Riona, backing away.
    A taste of fear filled Ket’s throat, but the druid’s eyes came to rest on Bran.
    â€˜Bran, gather some wood and bring it up the mound for me,’ said Faelán, and he strode across the Plain of Moytura towards the cairn.
    Nessa hurried to Bran, her face creased with concern.
    â€˜Oh, Bran . . .’
    â€˜Pah!’ Bran stuck out his chin and looked round defiantly. ‘I’m not scared by ghost stories.’ He picked up an armload of wood and marched off.
    Nessa let out a sigh and turned to Ket.
    â€˜What were you and Lorccán squabbling about?’ she asked.
    â€˜I—’
    Before Ket could answer, Riona came bustling up like a herd dog scenting danger. ‘Come on,’ she urged, ‘we have to get inside the tree!’
    Nath-í’s sleeve caught on the holly as they squeezed through the opening.
    â€˜Uch, this stuff scratches,’ he complained.
    â€˜Careful, don’t pull it down!’ warned Nessa.
    They all crowded in. Lorccán took the space in the middle and the others squashed around the edges, with bits of rotting tree trunk showering down on them. Ket could hear Riona breathing nervously beside him.
    â€˜Nath-í, when we were little, before you came, we always sneaked in here to sleep when it rained,’ said Nessa.
    â€˜ I never did,’ said Lorccán.
    It was true. Even when he was only seven, Lorccán had always slept outdoors beside the anruth.
    â€˜When I was little, I cried every night with homesickness,’ said Riona. ‘Nessa, you used to comfort me, remember?’
    â€˜I remember,’ said Nessa, ‘and you made me cry.’
    â€˜And me,’ said Ket.
    â€˜ I never cried,’ said Lorccán.
    â€˜I wish Bran would hurry up,’ said Riona. ‘It’s