The red glow drained from the sky and real darkness fell. Nothing stirred in the village. In the barn, the Jack, Kerry and Corriwen huddled together, listening intently, but all they heard was the faint squeak of a mouse deep in the hay, and their own quiet breathing.
An hour later, the first glimmer of dawn broke, sending rays of light through the narrow cracks on the barn wall, real daylight now, to Jack's relief, not the poisonous glow of the bale moon.
All three were tired from lack of sleep as they roused themselves, stretching stiff joints, when sounds outside told them the village was waking up. Warily they edged to the wall and Jack put an eye to a crack. In the street, men were gathering, talking loudly amongst themselves. A group of them ran up an alley and came back with a piece of broken branch. Then the shouting started. One big man came along with two small dogs on a leash. They snuffled around in the alley then began to bark, dragging the handler across the cobbles straight to the barn.
"We'd better go say hello," Kerry said. "If it wasn't for this place, we'd have been up the creek with a hole in the boat and no paddle."
No sooner were the words out of his mouth when the barn door almost fell off its hinges, and half a dozen men came barging in. Jack stood up on the hay bales and one of the men cried out in alarm before the rest of them rushed forward and grabbed him.
"Hey," Kerry shouted, as Jack struggled in their clutches. "There's no call for that."
Corriwen twisted and kicked as two brawny men hauled her off the hay, but to no avail. These were big farming types, dressed in leathers and rough plaids. The three of them had no chance.
"Bring them out," one of them growled. He snatched Jack's jerkin and dragged him forward.
"You brought the nightshades," he snarled. "Let them in, you did. You'll pay for that."
"We didn't bring anything," Jack began, but before he could finish a big hand and clamped over his mouth.
"Save it, trespasser. You cost us dear."
And with that the three of them were bundled out of the barn and frog-marched up the street, while men, women and children watched them go by, with sullen angry eyes.
Corriwen managed to pull free enough to speak.
"You've made a mistake. We didn't bring these things. They hunted us."
"Aye, and you broke the Rowan Ring," the big man spat. "Here and at the coppice. You know the penalty for that."
Kerry managed to get a breath. "We don't know anything. We've just arrived here. We don't even know where here is."
He grimaced at Jack. "And here was I thinking this place was pretty cool."
They were hauled to a big wooden building which Jack assumed was the meeting-hall. The villagers crowded in as Jack, Kerry and Corriwen were shoved towards a stout table. From behind it a squat bearded man glared at them.
"What are they?" the head man asked. "Dwarves or sprites?"
He pointed at Jack. "You boy. What's your ilk and where from?"
"I'm Jack Flint, from Scotland."
"Never heard of you, nor your Scotland either, and I know everybody in these parts."
He banged a hand on the table. "I bring this testing to order. Three strangers stand accused. Who speaks against them?"
"I do, Master Boru." A woman came forward. She bore a wicker basket and laid it on the table, opened its lid and drew out a brown speckled egg which she cracked open. Something grey and leathery rolled out. Huge red eyes slowly opened and the beak gaped, showing two lines of tiny sharp teeth. The creature looked more lizard than chicken.
"They brought the nightshades," the woman said. "And now my chickens are sprite-sick."
A thin man came forward. "They broke the sacred Rowan Ring. Not a nut or fruit left on a tree."
Jack stood up straight, as tall as he could get, and still felt small against the men who surrounded them.
"Don't we get a chance to speak?"
"You get a chance to answer what you're asked," Boru said. He delved under the table and drew out Jack's long sword. Corriwen's knives, the bow and Kerry's short-sword followed suit. Jack gasped when he saw the heartstone join them on the table. He hadn't even felt them take it in the struggle.
"Now where, I'm wondering, would you get blades as good as this?" Boru asked. "Not around here, I'm sure of that. No man but hold-keepers may carry such. They are forfeit."
"They're ours," Kerry said. "You've no right."
"I'll be the judge of who owns what." Boru growled. He raised Jack's sword, admiring the fine blade. He ran a thumb down an edge then started back when a thin trickle of blood ran down to his wrist.
"Sorcery wrought, for sure," he declared. "I've never seen its match. This was either stolen or bought for service to the dark."
He glared across at them. "You come here and break the Rowan Ring and come armed with sorceren blades. And we don't even know what you are."
"We're people," Jack said. "People like you."
"Ha. So you say," the headman rasped. "None travel Uaine under the bale-moon. None but the demon-touched."
He jabbed a finger at Jack. "Or the fiend-friend."
"They hunted us," Jack protested. "We just ran for shelter."
"I say you're outlanders," Boru retorted. "Outlanders come for mischief."
"We're nothing of the sort…" Corriwen began to protest. But Boru snatched up the heartstone on its chain and raised it high. People gasped and made signs with their hands
"Black heart! Just like your own."
A murmur of approval went round the hall. A voice called from the back.
"I say send them back to the pit they crawled from!"
All around them the crowd muttered consent. The headman stood. "For breaking the Rowan-Ring and bringing shades and sprites, there is but one penalty. Take them out and give them back to the dark."
"What's the penalty?" Kerry demanded. "We didn't do anything."
A hand clamped over his mouth to cut off his words and they were dragged away, unable to fight or protest. The villagers followed their progress as they were half-carried and half frogmarched out of the hamlet, up a narrow track to a small hill barely a mile from the village where several stout wooden posts had been driven into the ground.
Their captors pushed them against the posts and quickly tied their wrists securely behind them. That done, the villagers turned and went back down the track.
"I think we're in a real heap of trouble," Kerry said when they had all gone.
"They are afraid," Corriwen said. "People were like that with Mandrake."
Jack's heart felt as if it had sunk into his boots. Their weapons were gone, but worse that that, the Book of Ways was back in the village, and the head man now had the heartstone. The three of them were tied to posts on a hill, completely defenceless. A long and uncomfortable day lay ahead of them.
And after that, the night.
"There are circles everywhere," Corriwen said. The boys followed her gaze and saw fertile fields and little orchards on the flatland at the bottom of the hill. Each field, each orchard and coppice was surrounded by a fragile fence of thin branches.
"Must be some sort of protection," Jack said.
"From the nightshades," Kerry added. "We have to get ourselves out of here."
He leaned out past Jack. "Corrie, you don't happen to have a knife in your boot?"
She shook her head. "Not even the clever little one Jack gave me."
Corriwen twisted and turned against her bonds, though it was clear she'd never break them. Jack and Kerry did the same, but soon the rising heat of the day, combined with hunger and thirst, tired them out. They sagged despondently against their bonds as morning became afternoon and then the shadows began to lengthen.
A scraping sound startled Jack to sudden awareness. He twisted round, half expecting to see some animal creeping towards him, but it was Corriwen who'd made the noise. She sucked in her breath and wriggled round until she was facing Jack and Kerry.
"I remembered Tig and Tag, the Acrobats in Eirinn," she said. "They taught me a few things when we escaped from Wolfen Castle. I think we have a chance… maybe."
With that, she bent forward, leaning out from the post as far as the bindings would allow. Both boys heard her muscles and ligaments creak as she pressed to the limit of endurance and Jack saw her face twist into a mask of concentration and effort.
"What's she doing?"
Jack shushed him to silence.
Corriwen's arms were now pointing directly behind her and Jack thought if she pushed any further, they might pop out of the sockets at her shoulders. Very slowly she forced her body forward. Jack winced at the sound of tendons stretched to their limit, but Corriwen ignored her pain, and inch by inch, she began to walk her feet backwards up the rough wood surface, her head almost touching the ground.
"Sun's almost gone," Kerry said anxiously. Above them, the moon was still silver, but they had seen that before and seen it change.
The dark came so quickly it took them by surprise, and again the weird green flash rolled across the sky.
"I can't…" Corriwen wailed. "I can't reach."
Somewhere in the distance, something big and wild howled, startling all three of them.
Corriwen moaned and Jack heard a distinct snap. Then all of a sudden he saw her edge away from the post. She paused, gasping like an exhausted animal, then stood up.
Only now she was facing the stake. Somehow she had managed to loop herself through her own arms. Then she winked at him and Jack's heart began to pound as she began to shin up the post. It seemed to take forever until she finally got both hands over the top.
"Yes!" They both heard her hiss of triumph.
Closer now, the big animal howled again.
A purple wave rolled across the face of the moon and as it had the previous night, it turned red, glaring down at them with a face of blood. Bale moon!
Corriwen slid down the post and ran across to Jack and Kerry. Her hands were still tied in front of her, and one shoulder was raised higher than the other, oddly askew. Jack knew she must have dislocated her own shoulder to get free. She scrabbled about on the ground until she found a rough stone and then began to saw at Jack's bindings.
"Do Kerry first," he hissed.
"Don't be daft," Kerry said. Corriwen ignored them and scraped away until Jack felt the rope break and he lurched forward. Instantly Corriwen was behind Kerry and sawing fast as the purple sky deepened to real night and out there, beyond the hill, the low moaning sound echoed in the dark, and further out, barely audible, the feral growling of nightshades on the hunt.
Kerry rubbed his wrists and then hugged Corriwen tight. She winced in pain, but bore with it. "You're a genius," he told her.
"Tell her in the morning," Jack said, pulling him away. "Now we really have to move."
And as dark shapes came slouching past the barricades at the fields at the base of the hill, Jack, Kerry and Corriwen began to run in the opposite direction.