Disclaimers apply. A/N: Just a note to apologise for the delay between chapters �“ I won’t bore you with an excuse… I’d also like to thank Steph (I Love Severus Snape) and Ally for all their help on this chapter and for keeping me sane, generally. Enjoy!
The way forward was a steady ribbon of mud. Severus Snape scowled as he trudged painfully slow through a field of knee deep sludge. The greenery that he had seen only the previous day had vanished beneath the hooves of the mounted army. The sun beat down on them, blinding them for the most part, to the way ahead. If the path the Fianna had left had been thinner, Severus and his companion, Meredith, would have walked beside it �“ not on the mushy track; as it was, the path of the army was two fields wide. He had not slept but continued forward, knowing that time was short enough as it was. The forest still loomed behind him and the merest of glances backwards infuriated him to no end. In his mind, Severus Snape was going nowhere fast.
In fact, his already short fuse had blown numerous times in the past few hours, and for so many reasons which flew about his mind like owls in the Great Hall. Not one to blame himself for anything, it automatically switched to Sorcha, who angered him even now; how could she die without him there? Stubborn as he was, he knew he’d never forgive himself if she died. The atmosphere was so lax that it only contributed to his heated state of mind. Storming ahead at a ridiculously energy consuming pace, he silently fumed, his arms swinging rigidly back and forth, willing the world to reflect his emotions. For a moment, his mind lingered on what he was feeling; impatience - certainly, despair �“ perhaps just a little fear? He hated to admit it, and did so only begrudgingly, but he was afraid. He was lost in time and space and his wife was somewhere, dying, and he couldn’t save her; he wanted so desperately to save her.
He stopped suddenly, surveying what he could of the luminous path ahead. It glowed with the sunlight, and though he could not see the muddy trail properly, he knew it was there. If time was short, he needed to use it more sensibly. But how could he travel faster to the Kings Hall?
There was one way.
They had opted for a magical wedding ceremony, despite Sorcha’s Elven heritage. The joining in matrimony of a witch and wizard was hardly a light affair. Indeed, ‘till death do us part’ was literal in most wizard marriages. Unlike its counterpart, creating a Horcrux, the magic of the marriage ceremony bound two souls as one. What if Severus separated their soul? His stomach roiled at the thought of it. It would require something… someone dying. He was sure he could find her this way, but whom would he sacrifice?
Meredith.
Even as the thought entered his mind, he knew it was impossible. He chanced one guilty glance at her and was again reminded of a lingering familiarity about her; ever since the night she had pointed to his daughter’s star, he had felt most uneasy around her. Her features were perhaps the opposite of Cassi’s, but in a way so reminiscent of his daughter that the two seemed too alike to be mere co-incidence. He would have to make use of her raw magical powers as much as he could, for he was quite unaccustomed to the type of magic his request would require.
“Meredith?” he began, turning on his heel to face her. “Can you feel for… life? People - people near by?”
A quizzical expression flashed across her face, but she replied, “Yes, of course. Why?”
Always asking questions, he thought irritably. “There is a way I can find Sorcha, but I need someone else’s assistance.”
“Why?”
“That is none of your concern.”
“You aren’t telling me the whole truth, are you, Severus?”
“Must I confide in you everything, Meredith?” he spat. She took a step backwards, but overcame the initial fear of standing up to Severus, raised her eyebrows and set her own terms.
“Yes, if you want my help.”
Meredith knew immediately that her stand had been a mistake. Severus’ eye’s flashed and his lips curled into a sneer, then, without warning, his facial features froze; eyes and jaw clamped shut, his shoulders slouched and for a minute Severus Snape stood absolutely still.
NO! Sorcha’s voice thundered in his mind. Find another way, she pleaded softly, desperately.
“HELP ME!” he roared loudly, shaking the ground beneath his feet minutely. Meredith, unsure as to whom it was Severus addressed, trembled slightly, afraid of him, but more afraid for him. She dared not think how he would react should his wife die. In such a short time, the weather had turned from sunshine to thick and dark clouds, threatening a downpour soon. She looked about quickly; there would be no shelter, the flats rolled on for miles, and the trees which could still be seen behind them were too far off if they wanted shelter.
“There are many lives behind us, a few are ahead, and they come closer,” Meredith spoke softly, all at once trying to calm the frantic wizard. When Meredith looked upon him, Severus appeared to be quite composed; she could tell nothing of his emotions from his face, but when he turned and continued to walk in the wake of the path left by the Fianna, it was clear that he was losing his patience, and it was being replaced by blind despair. Meredith followed without a word, running to keep up with his frenzied strides.
They did not stop. Indeed at times Meredith thought that Severus would break out in a run, but she was beginning to become accustomed to his logic; running would tire them sooner than walking briskly. But she was already tired, and it was barely past mid-day, they’d not eaten since early that morning and it was clear that Severus would not permit a stop. Giving herself a mental shake, she picked up her pace and levelled with Severus.
“Severus? I’m really sorry; I didn’t mean to frustrate you back there. I just… wouldn’t want anyone else hurt.”
“Very well,” he said shortly, walking, if at all possible, faster.
“But, Severus! I would like to know what the plan is, I’m here to help, remember?”
“Yes. I do.”
Now the conversation was irritating her! How could anyone be so gruff? Meredith began to feel that she was being used only when it suited Severus, and though that is precisely what she had agreed to, she still felt like she was selling herself short.
“Severus, I can do more �“ I can help, if you just-”
“You cannot help me in this. How far away are these people?” he said, voice completely empty.
Meredith closed her eyes and felt the world about her go cold. In the distance, she could feel two great shapes of warmth coming closer, closer… they were scouts… and they had to be looking for them!
“Severus, they’re looking for us!”
Severus narrowed his eyes into mere slits. “Do they mean to harm us?”
In truth, she could not tell, but by their speed the prospects were not at all good. “They’re moving fast. I don’t know,” she said, feeling that she’d once more come up short in proving herself to him. He continued on his way, speeding up his walk once again. Curiously, she watched as he pulled a thin strip of wood from his sleeve, holding its thicker end in the palm of his hand. A cold flush of premonition flushed over her, causing goose pimples to rise all over her body. If he’d meant her harm, he would surely have done it by now. No, if he were planning violence, then she’d be more worried if she were one of the two people who approached.
An hour had passed and she watched as Severus grew ever more agitated. All the while, Meredith was losing control of her fear; every step was a struggle, her legs threatened to buckle beneath her they shook so badly, and her eyes were constantly swollen with tears, which she wiped away secretly, hoping that Severus - in his few backward glances - did not notice. The two life forces she’d felt distantly before, were now close enough that she could ascertain precisely what they were: two men, both mounted on horses. However, she kept her suspicions to herself; if she voiced them, he’d surely not tolerate her presence.
Severus ploughed on. They were making good progress, and if luck were with them, the people Meredith had sensed would catch up with them soon. It was mid afternoon now, and Severus’ heart and mind throbbed in quick time, urging him to move ahead if only to keep pace with their steady beats. Beads of sweat rolled freely down the sides of his face, which he left, trying to set his mind to what he was about to do. He had helped in the making of a Horcrux many years ago, when he had first joined Voldemort’s ranks. Of course at the time he had not known what he was party to, but he had pieced together all the information in the end and had realised that he was one of a handful of wizards who knew how to create one. The difficult part, he imagined, would be controlling the two halves of his soul. Murder had ever been a difficult accomplishment, and Severus had never come away from it with confidence; but if it would save Sorcha, then he’d kill the entire Fianna if it were necessary.
So they continued, and the weather had completely turned. A soft spray of rain plagued them now, so thick that the view was almost completely obscured; Meredith followed the dark outline of the man in front of her, but at times he was fully invisible and Meredith would race ahead until he was again returned to her sight. It seemed a little pointless when Meredith finally remembered her talent with water, a transparent dome formed around them causing the rain to roll casually to the muddy ground around them, as they were both absolutely sodden. She then tried to make the ground they walked upon more solid, but had only a small success. Though Severus had said nothing, she felt rather proud that she could do something to speed things up, and on some level, she knew he was grateful.
Meanwhile, Severus was beginning to doubt himself. He had promised his wife that he would never use the Dark Arts again… but if it saved her life? Yet if Meredith was right and these people were looking for them, then they must know of Sorcha, and he surmised, must be a friend to her. Would she forgive him for killing her friend? But then, how did he know that they were friend or foe to her? Someone had delivered upon her a lethal wound, but who?
“Meredith?” he called backwards. He could hear her footsteps squelching across the muddy terrain and closer to him; he stopped and waited for her to catch up.
“Severus,” she said shortly, “How much longer can we keep this up? If we do not rest-”
“My wife is dying. She will be dead soon. You may remain here if you wish, but I will not let her escape me.”
At his moment, Meredith thought him oddly possessive of his wife, yet it was utterly plain that he would do anything for this woman. Meredith thought she’d like to her very much. She merely nodded her acceptance, and made to move forward, but Severus caught her arm.
“Do not stop me.”
“What?” Meredith choked, half surprised at his words.
“You know what I must do, and I ask that you not endanger yourself by getting in my way,” Severus said slowly, pronouncing every syllable clearly. Meredith held her breath and nodded vigorously, sighing in relief as he marched ahead.
Time passed and yet time did not pass, what felt like hours were mere minutes, pressing brutally on their tired bodies, but they still went on, whilst the strings of hope snapped one by one. Surely, Sorcha would be dead before they reached her. Meredith plodded on, her eyes closing as she walked, her physical body only kept going by the necessity to help Severus; her senses seemed to relax one by one… except for the magic. The heavy clumping of horse hooves against the ground rang out like a beacon in her mind, they were very close �“ and this terrified Meredith more than she dared to admit, even to herself. Should she tell Severus? Before long, he would know anyway. Meredith held her tongue.
Time flew by quickly now, which served only to unsettle them both. Meredith shook with nerves; Severus from the cold and from fear. They stopped. Meredith closed her eyes in dread; he would know she had kept the information from him. However, when she opened them once again, he seemed more alert; he could hear the horses. And although Meredith could hear Severus’s name being called, it was clear that Severus could not.
“Severus!” she cried, but in little more than a whisper, urging her voice to be louder, she screamed, “SEVERUS!”
But he paid no attention; the strip of wood she’d seen him holding earlier was now in his hand, pointing towards the shape of one of the riders, blurred beyond distinction by the rain. He cast a quick glance at Meredith, a warning glance, telling her to be still. She stared wide eyes, and blinking the rain, which now poured torrentially, from her eyes.
“Severus, they’re calling your name!” she cried pleadingly. He did not even blink as a wall of red light shot from the end of the strip �“ his wand �“ Meredith could not contain her scream, the man fell from his horse as if a corpse, the horse reigned back and ran from the scene at speed. Meredith wept uncontrollably, stumbling after Severus as he ran to the fallen soldier. She could not help but wonder where the other rider was…
Severus crouched over the man, wondering vaguely what his name was, trying to think of another way. But there was none. Since his teens, he’d carried a dagger on his person, and it remained pocketed in his right booth. He pulled it free and moved to hold the man’s head in his lap, carefully placing the tip of the blade just bellow the jaw line. He took a deep breath to steady himself, and hesitated. Everything happened a moment too late. Two curved blades flashed before his eyes and settled against his own neck. The man spoke in a language foreign to Severus, it was when Meredith translated that he realised his mistake.
“You are Severus Snape, no?”
“I am Severus Snape.”
Meredith’s timid voice then translated his next line. “Your wife, Sorcha, is dying �“ we must ride hard to reach her before it is too late.”
“Take me to her,” Severus said fiercely, standing up and feeling the bite of steel against his neck.
The man whom he had spoken with was now quite visible to him. Severus was almost positive he knew who this man was, his beard with many braids, and wild red hair marked him as the man whom much of Sorcha’s research centred around.
“You are Finn MacCumhail?” Severus asked bluntly.
The man nodded and whistled loudly. Two horses approached Finn’s own and a vacant one, no doubt belonging to the man whom Severus had stunned. The great Chieftain spoke briefly with Meredith who then instructed that Severus and she were to mount the empty horse. He watched curiously as Finn hauled the second man up on to his horse and climbed on easily behind his limp figure. Finn looked at him sharply, and said in heavy accent:
“You follow.”
Meredith seemed to have recovered herself and as soon as Severus had mounted, followed suit. As Finn raced off, Severus realised just how grateful he was that his wife had taught him to ride well. Reining the horse in, he felt Meredith tighten her grip around his waist; the horse plunged into pursuit of its master. As they rode, he hoped only that time was on their side.
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