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Prologue:
Brian was close to cursing the stubborn priest, something he
had never even considered before this moment.
"Father, I grant you the fact that The Lord will protect us
all," he said through clenched teeth, "but I am not as certain as you that
blindly waiting here to see what happens is what He wants."
"Brian, I have prayed and asked for guidance. I believe He
will send us a sign as to the correct path to follow."
"Father, it has rained for most of the past three days, the
ground has become a sucking muck that has to be waded through instead of walked
on, the wind blows without pause, and there is much lightning to the south. The
water in the creek is rising at an alarming rate, and is higher than it has ever
been before. What more do you want?"
As if in answer, Eowen entered, sopping wet and out of
breath.
"Brian!" he shouted, then remembered where he was and crossed
himself. "Brian" he continued quieter, but no less emphatic, "we were lashing
the boats down at the wharf, and I slipped and fell in the creek. Brian...
Brian, the water is salt."
"What?" asked Brian.
"The water in the creek is salty. It isn't brackish, like the
bay, it is salty."
Brain looked at the priest. "Is this what you were looking
for, Father?"
"I... I don't know."
"Come on, Eowen, let us look at this."
So saying, Brian wrapped himself in his cloak, and went out
into the driving rain.
The wharf was underwater, but Brain could feel it under his
boots. He carefully walked out to the end, knelt down and scoped up a handful of
water, He tasted it.
"It tastes brackish to me," he shouted. Shouting was
necessary to be heard over the wind and rain.
"I got a mouthful from well below the surface," returned
Eowen.
Brian shook his head. He put his hand down on the wharf...
and something moved.
Grasping his surprise, he pulled it out of the water. It was
a large, blue and white crab. Brian stared at it.
"Come on," he said to Eowen, and, taking the crab, went back
to he church.
Inside, the priest was hurrying around and placing vessels
and pots to catch the rain that was beginning to leak through the roof. All the
buildings were beginning to suffer from the pounding rain and constant wind.
Brain held the crab out to the priest.
"What do you make of this, Father?" he asked.
"It is but a crab. "
"No, Father, it is a salt-water crab, like those on the Isle
of Bones. Father, Eowen is right, the creek is running salty. Either that, or
the sea is flowing up into the bay, bring its creatures with it. Either way, we
cannot stay here now."
"The Lord..."
"The Lord has just sent us this sign!" Brian shouted, shaking
the crab in Father Alun's face. "Father, the crops are already under water.
Under salt water. The ground is poisoned, Father; we will not be able to grow
crops here for years."
Father Alun stood frozen as he realized just what that meant.
"But... but... how will I save the Holies?"
"Father, I can have men carry anything but the altar. When
this is over, we can send back for it. I doubt it will wash away." The altar was
a large hunk of Carrere marble. Ten men couldn't lift it.
"I... I..." stammerd the priest.
"Father, I will have the soldiers come and help you gather
the relics and the icons. Find everything you want to take, because we probably
will not return for days."
With that, Brian walked out.
Crossing the creek to the north was tricky; they almost lost
a horse. Their regular ford was barely deep enough to wet the belly of one of
the animals, but now it was deep enough for them to swim. Brian hated trying to
ride a horse when it was swimming.
His people were near panic, several certain that their God
had abandoned them. Brian was unable, and unwilling, to offer them any solace.
In addition, the weather was even worse. The wind was blowing
the rain hard enough to sting, and the sky was lit by flash after flash of
lightning. Branches were being broken out of trees by the wind. Brian began to
wonder if somehow they had wandered into a corner of Hell.
By noon, the struggling colonists had traveled only four
miles. They were higher than the storm surge that hit then. They would have been
shocked to see the water roll in over the small spit of land their settlement
was on and swallow everything but the church. Even the court suffered, though.
The doors burst in, and fish and crabs were washed against the altar. Then, the
surge began to ebb. The church couldn't take that, and he walls began to bow out
as the water inside was no longer supported by the water outside. The front wall
of the building gave way, and the roof fell. The next storm surge washed the
church into the creek, a quarter of a mile away.
By nightfall, barely noticed due to the cloud over and
flashing purple sky, the colonists had traveled almost ten miles. They had no
idea where they were; they had just kept going uphill or upstream. They were in
heavy pine woods, and the trees were forming a windbreak against the almost 100
mile-per-hour wind that howled above them. Still, they heard the occasional
crack of a pine tree breaking off in the wind.
Brian was considering stopping here. It was fairly high, and
was a dry as anywhere else in this area. Perhaps they could build some lean-tos
so as to make an area out of this cursed rain. Everyone was exhausted, wet, and
cold. Brian was worried that some would get the fever-sickness that had killed
so may the summer before, even though he had never been able to locate the exact
cause. He was especially worried about the children.
The first sparkles of light went unnoticed by the refugees,
as did the faint tinkle of sound. When they finally were noticed, most thought
they were effects of he storm. They continued moving on, as the dancing lights
brightened and the sounds got louder. Father Alun had an answer.
"Angels..." he gasped in awe.
Brian thought it more likely it like the sprites from the
land of Eire. Still, the lights didn't appear to be harmful.
No one noticed when the rain stopped, nor did they notice
that the wind died down to a gentle breeze that caused the pine needles to
whisper. They all stood and watched the dancing lights.
Eight months later when Prince Madoc returned to the
settlement, he found little evidence that there had ever been anything there.
The storm surge had washed away all the lighter buildings, and eventually the
pounding had collapsed the church. Contrary to what Brian had believed about the
weight of the altar making it unmovable, it was now in the bay under a foot of
sand and two feet of water. Prince Madoc returned to Wales disappointed, and
never knew what happened to his colony.
Headlines: ACTimes 050107.htm
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Inhuman Interest Story: Wolfwitch
Special Report: Resurrection Day