Infinite 01 - Infinite Sacrifice

North

Chapter 1
    “What a wonderful wee man, Liam!” my mother says over my shoulder.
    “It’s me and you and Da,” I say, finishing up the last, much larger figure, my tongue half out in concentration.
    I scribble away in the dirt on the floor before the hearth where my mother is baking bread for the week. The whole room smells of warm yeast.
    “I better not be the giant one,” my mother jokes as she cradles her hands around her enormous belly.
    My father, walking behind me, stoops to tousle my hair. I swat at him with my stick playfully, but he snatches and breaks it over his leg. He laughs as he throws it in the fire.
    “I was making pictures with that!” I cry.
    He brings his steel-grey eyes close. “Then you can go pick another fine one when you gather more kindling for your enormous ma there.”
    She pretends to be offended. “Well, lucky for you both, I won’t be getting any bigger. I’ve been getting sure signs this baby’s well on its way.”
    “Make sure to get to the old midwife, then.” He smiles and pats her on her backside as he strides out the door. I run out, trying to help him gather his fishing net. He pushes me aside and says, “Stop that now. You’ll get your wee feet tangled.” He throws the net behind his back. “Mind your ma and fetch her wood.”
    I watch him take large steps down to the lough, where the faded wooden fishing boats wait for him. As soon as he is out of sight, I go behind the house and start cracking and bunching sticks.
    “Come, Liam, and eat your breakfast!” Ma calls out from the door. I hurry in with my sticks, some falling out along the way, and when I bend over to pick those up, more fall. Once inside, I throw them in the wide basket and look at my plate. The fresh butter is dripping off the steaming bread.
    I stuff my mouth as I watch her knead some risen dough, punching it hard with her fists. My gaze drifts out the open, blue-shuttered window to the clear sky, and I hear children playing and screaming. I push my small stool over and cling to the window frame to steady myself. I search for the shouting children but see none. I try to follow the noise and see it is coming from an old woman who lives much farther down the path, closer to the water. She is screaming something I cannot recognize. Then the horns of alarm blow, sending chills up my little back. I feel my mother dash up behind me, and she grabs my shoulders in fright.
    “What is she saying, Ma?”
    “Oh my lord!” She begins to scream strange little yelps I have never heard her make before. “They’ve come again!”
    I follow where she is looking, and out on the lough where Da fished are ten long ships with massive sails gliding into the harbor. Ma grabs me up, and my legs straddle her hard stomach. I clutch onto her wooden triangle necklace to steady myself and thumb the large blue stone in the center nervously.
    She shrieks out the window, “Seamus! Seamus!”
    Women go running by our house with their crying children dragging behind. The scariest, most horrifying noise then comes echoing over the water up to us, as all of whatever is coming on that ship roars out. I begin to cry now, and my mother paces the floor, breathing too fast. She opens the door and cries out louder, “Seamus!”
    I look down to where he should come. I wish I would see his face appearing up that path, but nothing comes, only an old woman hobbling up the way.
    “Get on your way to a safe place, Keelin; it’s the Danes!” She keeps limping up toward the hill but screams back, “Run, my girl! Run!”
    Ma screams, drops me on the ground, and squats. I clamber on top of her, still crying. She screams again, grabbing her stomach and gritting her teeth. She shrieks out, “Seamus!”
    She begins to weep on the ground as I hold onto her. I put my head up and try to call out as loud as I can, “Da! Da!”
    When I look at Ma, I know I have to stop crying and help her. I try to rub her shoulder as she pushes off the ground to get back up. She takes me by the hand and begins to waddle up the path in the direction the old woman went scurrying. A booming sound thunders out. I turn to look down to the harbor, where the ships are sailing right up on the sands, like beached whales. Many men bound off the ships with shiny swords and spears raised, making that terrible noise again. My mother pulls me faster so I cannot look back any longer and my little legs can hardly keep up. Ma stops again, drops my hand, and