“Fearghal has mobilized the guard. No training this day—’tis all in deadly earnest, the men sent to their assignments despite the rain.”
“Aye, so.” Attacks would be coming. Where and when remained to be seen.
“I saw Cathair and Brasha.” Her eyes clouded. “At the spring, speaking together.”
“Aye. Cathair will not be pleased I survived holding off Dacha’s men. No doubt he hoped I would fail to come back and will be looking for a way to sink his knife in my back.” The rush and confusion of the next battle would make as good an opportunity as Cathair was likely to find.
Liadan shivered. “We cannot allow him that chance. We must go to the druids.”
“Aye, but not now. Not when they will be drawn into the defense, looking for signs and portents.”
He struggled to sit up, grimacing. Each and every muscle hurt and his wounds pulled tight.
“Rest yet a while yet,” Liadan urged.
“Nay, I will be needed. By Dornach, if no’ the chief.”
“Ye need more time to recover.” She added in a whisper, “I need more time wi’ ye.”
Before he could answer, she pressed her mouth to his. A simple enough gesture, only it sent a current of energy through him, far better than any healer’s draught.
“Liadan.” The kiss turned into something twice as deep. Not till Ardahl’s ears caught a movement from beyond the sleeping place did he come to himself. “Liadan, my mam—”
“I am sure your mam knows or at least guesses some of what lies between us. I confess, I do no’ understand the whole o’ it.”
“Nor do I.” Only that he loved her, if such an emotion could be labeled as mere love. He needed her as much as his heartbeat. “Here, help me up. And aye, perhaps I will have that draught. I cannot go out hobbling like an old man.”
*
Ardahl went firstto the warriors’ hall where the chief was lodged. He felt better once he’d taken something to eat and downed the bitter draught. Better still when he got moving.
At the chief’s dwelling he found a meeting already in progress, Fearghal with Dornach and both surviving druids, along with a few of Fearghal’s other advisors.
Fearghal waved him in. “Here he is now. Ardahl, I did no’ have a proper chance earlier to thank ye as ye deserve.” His fierce gaze met Ardahl’s head-on. “I wish ye to know, were these ordinary times, ye would be feasted here in this hall. Bards would sing your praises down through the ages to come.”
Ardahl smiled reluctantly. A dubious reward. “But”—he inclined his head—“these are not ordinary times.”
“They are not. And for ye to be praised as ye deserve, for ye to be named first among my warriors, we shall first have to survive as a clan. I will need your sword for that. Your strength and your courage.”
Ardahl nodded again. The other men there, sitting in a rough circle, all watched him. He eyed the two druids, Tamald and Reghan. It was to Tamald, now head druid, he would have to speak. Ardahl did not know what sort of man Tamald might be. His savior, perhaps? And Liadan’s.
To Fearghal he said, “My sword is yours, my chief.” But his heart’s blood—aye, that belonged to Liadan.
“Sit. We are discussing our defenses,” Fearghal told him. “Eventualities. What may happen if we and Brihan fight together or if Dacha defeats the Brioc and we make a final stand alone. We will save our lands.”
Ardahl took a place in the rough circle of men while Dornach spoke. “Aye, chief. We will spill the last drops o’ our blood for this land, and those we love who dwell here.”
Fearghal gave a rueful smile. “Always it is the way. Men fight.” He spread his hands. “Women mourn. Men fight either for the sake o’ increase—because they are greedy to expand their holdings—or, aye, for love of what they hold already to their hearts.”
Tamald spoke in a voice barely above a whisper. “Far better, and cherished by the gods, to fight for love.”
“Aye, so, Master Tamald,” Fearghal said dryly. “But those who do so are no’ always triumphant.”
Tamald’s pale blue eyes met the chief’s. “No’ in this life, mayhap. Only a fool would believe this life is all.”
Ardahl felt those words echo through him, a song so distant he had could barely hear it. For an instant he stared.
But Dornach turned to him and said, “Master Ardahl, since ye be first among the warriors, so declared or no’, I would assign ye to defend your chief. Chief Fearghal has decided he will fight, should we march out.”
