Szat lay on the ground clasping his stomach and groaning.
“You’ll be fine. You only have indigestion,” Morwen said scooping Szat up. “If Widon ate the berries, they can’t be poisonous.” She scrummaged around in her backpack and produced a sprig of mint and a stem of yarrow.
Goron gave her a questioning look, no doubt wondering why she was carrying such herbs.
She wasn’t going to justify his ignorance of women’s matters with an explanation.
“Eat this. It will help the cramps and nausea.”
Szat sneered at the offering and poked out his black tongue. “I don’t eat anything green, unless it’s meat and that jelly cook does.”
“Do what you’re told, demon,” Morwen said grabbing Szat and stuffing the leaves down his throat.
There was a swooshing noise above. Morwen looked up to see giant shapes fluttering around the tops of the trees. “Birds?”
“They don’t move like birds,” Goron said. The warrior readied his axe.
If they were not birds they could only be…the old man had said they were inactive during the day. “Mothras,” Morwen shouted.
One mothra broke away from the swarm and swooped down at Goron. It was the colour of the gloom with a wingspan that stretched over eight feet. The head was human with large, black, shiny eyes that stared without blinking.
Goron sidestepped and slashed with his axe, biting through a soft wing as it arced into the air. The mothra careered into a tree trunk and slammed to the ground where it flapped around in a circle.
The warrior raised his axe ready to strike again. Morwen raised her staff, her mouth loaded with dark words. Szat groaned and passed wind in Morwen’s ear. The loud thunderclap made her ear ring.
A mothra dived at Goron’s back. “Kroduv, birm,”’ Morwen shouted. A shadow bolt spurted from her staff and exploded against the mothra’s abdomen, dropping it from the air like a lead weight.
Goron heard it fall and spun around to find its corpse sprawled beside his feet.
Morwen grinned and twirled her staff expertly in her hand. Wisps of shadow smoked from its end.
The swarm descended as one.
Goron whirled his axe above his head. Morwen’s staff spewed clots of shadow as she chanted, “Kroduv, birm” over and over as if it were a mantra. Dead mothras spiralled like autumn leaves. But still they came.
Szat was plucked from Morwen’s shoulders and her staff knocked from her hands. She was grasped by her arms and jerked into the air. Up she soared, weaving through the branches and bursting through the canopy into a sky as dismal as the forest below. So far above the ground and its shadows, Morwen’s magic had no potency. She was powerless to help them and concentrated, instead, on her bearings. The view was spectacular. The forest was vast and covered the land from the sea to the mountains. The only significant blot was Wichsault. It jutted from the earth like a spear tip, the surrounding farmland a wound.
Goron and Szat weren’t enjoying the view. Goron was carried by two large mothras with beautiful spiral patterns on their wings. His mouth was open in a soundless scream. Szat was busy vomiting on the unsuspecting forest creatures far below. His skin had turned a dark shade of blue.
The mothras followed the river until they reached a grassy clearing where they released their captives.
Thousands of shiny, black eyes watched Morwen from the trees. Barrel-sized cocoons, the same colour as the wood, hung from the branches. One cocoon was split open, and Morwen watched fascinated as a leg and head tried to wiggle through a gap in the silk.
Goron had revived himself enough to sit up, but his eyes were still wide, and his jaw trembled. Szat was now the colour and shape of a blueberry.
The mothras began to chant, a resonant hum that made Morwen’s insides vibrate. “Senuna, Senuna”. The grove descended into darkness as wings, as vast and dark as a thunderstorm, filled the sky above.
“Snap out of it,” Morwen yelled kicking Goron in the leg. “We’re in a lot of trouble.”
Goron lifted his head and followed Morwen’s gaze. He’d woken from one nightmare to another.
The branches swayed violently and a powdery dust fell like snow as a gigantic mothra fluttered down and landed upon the grass.
Morwen could see her life-sized reflection in Senuna’s shiny, black eyes. Her head drooped. She felt insignificant and helpless.
“Strangers have come, Senuna. Many brothers and sisters lie dead by their hands,” a chorus of voices called from the trees.
“Is this true?” Senuna asked. Her bruise-coloured lips seemed to move in slow motion.
Senuna’s words were liquid velvet in Morwen’s ears. She closed her eyes and listened to the dripping echoes a moment before replying. “Yes, but we were afraid. We thought they meant us harm.”
“What are you doing in our forest?” Senuna asked.
“To kill you all for poisoning Wichsault.” How could she lie to such a beautiful voice?
Senuna’s laughter was as soft and violent as a storm of cotton balls. “The old man has been up to his tricks again I see.”
“He told us it was you. That the mothras send clouds of poison to cleanse the forest of all human life. I never thought it was you, though,” Goron said lying on the dewy grass and grinning stupidly.
“Me either,” Szat said. “But Morwen did.” The demon was sitting up staring adoringly at Senuna.
“I…I…suppose I did,” Morwen stammered.
“Hush child,” Senuna said.
Morwen smiled, and her head swayed dreamily from side to side at the melodious sound.
“The old man is the god of this forest and to protect it he sends plagues and pestilence to its enemies.”
“Why isn’t Murdus helping to protect the forest?” Goron asked his eyes musingly traced the spirals on the mothra’s wings.
“Murdus, Widon, they are one in the same,” Senuna said.
Goron jumped to his feet, “You mean we’ve been worshipping the cause of our destruction?”
Morwen laughed. At least she knew where she stood with the night mother. “How can we get Murdus to stop poisoning Wichsault?”
“There might be one way. Long ago
