2.
The Warped Warrior
‘I can’t keep it lit!’ Amergin cursed.
For a third time he muttered the ancient incantations of fire-sparking known to his order, the Druids of the Hawthorn, but again after a bare moment of flickered illumination, it was snuffed out as though pinched between the damp fingers of some invisible demon.
Which, though they did not know it, was more or less the case.
‘Why not?’ said CúChulainn irritably, as he frantically searched along the interior walls of the barrow with his hands for some other possible point of exit. He had given up on the passage through which they had descended, for the roof had completely collapsed, filling the slender egress with earth and rock.
‘This is a Sídhe, CúChulainn, do not forget,’ the sage replied, a calm returning to his voice t
