The Emerald Key - By Christopher Dinsdale Page 0,3

proper motivation.”

Bjorn pointed to a young red-headed girl running up the side of the hill on the edge of town. Olaf smiled.

“Get me that girl as well as any other village children you can find. If the old man does not talk, we will sell them as slaves.”

“The children have done nothing to deserve such a fate!” the priest pleaded.

“That is up to you then, isn’t it? If you do not tell me the location of the treasure, their little feet will never touch the soil of Ireland again!”

Father Francis’s heart sank as he heard a scream. He turned to see a Viking warrior grab Kiera roughly as she neared the top of the hill. He prayed for forgiveness, for he knew that no matter what the Viking said or did to her, the safety of the treasure was more important than either of their lives. The soul of an entire country could not be sacrificed for the well-being of a few. He thought of St. Patrick’s cross hanging around her young neck as she was dragged down the hill. He prayed it would keep her safe.

“God be with you, little Kiera.”

Chapter 1

Near Cork, Ireland, 1847

Jamie Galway had already stared into the face of death too many times in his young life, yet a shiver still ran down his spine as he passed a family lying together in the ditch. The dead mother’s arms were wrapped stiffly around her children’s bony shoulders. The deceased father’s head was turned away, his face lined in heartbreak and pain. The mother and father, the son and daughter had all died with their mouths open, still stuffed with the tough inedible grass that lined the side of the dirt road; their last desperate attempt at staving off starvation.

Ryan, Jamie’s older brother, stopped and threw back his hood. He knelt down in the grass beside the family. Taller and ganglier than his younger brother, Ryan gently reached out and closed the family’s tormented eyes with his fingertips, crossed himself, and said a prayer for the dead. Jamie removed his hood as well, his short brown hair framing emerald green eyes, and joined his brother in prayer. The moment of sombre meditation ended as Ryan shook him by the shoulder.

“I need to leave, right now.” Ryan’s hazel eyes and freckled face were burning red with anger.

“Having hate in your heart won’t do anyone any good.”

Ryan wheeled around on his brother, his eyes wild with fury. He thrust a finger back at the dead family.

“Hate? No, not hate, little brother. Rage, disgust, and a sense of treachery, perhaps … but not hate. How can you, of all people, not feel the same? Look back upon that family! How can you not be angry as well? That’s two dozen dead we’ve passed since we left the abbey! Just lyin’ there! On the side of the road, like the dried up cores of tossed apples! But these aren’t eaten apples we’re talking about. These are God’s children! Dead! Just like our parents, all dead for no good reason!”

Jamie didn’t back down. “Of course, I feel upset for all those who have suffered. And you very well know that I miss mother and father as much as you, but the Brotherhood has warned us not to lose control of our emotions. These are trying times. We must rise above the pain that surrounds us and stay true to our sacred vows.”

Jamie held up his left hand in order to allow the golden ring to glimmer against the grey sky. A simple yet beautiful Celtic weave was etched into the outer surface of the gold.

Ryan thrust his own golden ring towards Jamie. “Don’t start quoting Cardinal Shulls to me. We are human, and the Brotherhood sometimes asks the impossible!”

“The Brotherhood needs us right now,” Jamie reminded him. “They’re trusting us to complete this journey without incident. We have to concentrate our thoughts on bringing that safely to Cork.”

Jamie pointed to the satchel hanging off his brother’s shoulder. Ryan glared at him, then turned on his heels and strode off angrily down the road. Jamie sighed and jogged to catch up. To his left, abandoned stone huts lined the grassy ridge of the road, and the emptiness of the once bustling countryside, a countryside that used to bring Jamie and his brother so much joy, was unnaturally silent. The still dampness of death hung heavily in the air, as nature soaked the spilled souls of the dead into its thick cloth of