After that, he fought. He did not remember the blows or how many opponents went down before his sword. He felt neither weariness nor pain. They went through Dacha’s men and out the other side.
When the rain slackened, the enemy had gone save for a raft of dead lying on the ground. They had vacated the way they had come.
Ardahl looked around for Conall, remembered, and searched for Cullan instead. He spied the chariot still on its side. Bodies lay heaped around it, and the ponies stood with their heads hanging down.
He headed there, only to be stopped by someone who stepped directly in front of him. Chief Fearghal, it was. He seized Ardahl by the shoulders.
“Ardahl MacCormac—ye saved my life.”
“Eh?” After the clamor of the battle and the rain, Ardahl’s ears felt muffled.
“Ye saved my life.”
Dornach stepped up. Like the rest of them, he stood liberally slashed and wounded, but he stood.
“Ye saved your chief, man. I saw it.” He gestured around at the men behind them, which included Cathair. “We all saw.”
Ardahl returned his gaze to Fearghal. He did not know what to say except, “My chief, I swore fealty.”
“Aye, so.” Approval shone in Fearghal’s blue eyes.
“Excuse me, my chief. I must check on my driver.”
When he got to the place, the ponies raised their heads wearily and looked at him. Behind them, half covered by the cart, Cullan lay dead.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The attack camewithout warning in the middle of the afternoon. The weather had been brooding all day, with clouds streaming in from the west, and sometime before supper it grew dark as night.
Mam began to fret, mumbling and pulling at Liadan’s hands when she tried to soothe her. She spoke so seldom now that Liadan found the agitated state alarming.
She’d been unable to think clearly all day, unable to focus on anything but Ardahl and the other men, now well to the west. She’d prayed to Brigid for his welfare. Prayed to Lugh at dawn. The worry would not leave go of her.
Was it raining where he was? Did he battle? Had he fallen beneath some blade?
If he had, och, however would she bear it?
When she could not comfort her mother, she made the dire mistake of leaving her alone to go fetch the healer. Flanna was away, and Liadan tucked Mam up beside the fire with many soft entreaties for her to be still and wait until she returned.
Mam reached out and seized her by the wrist, staring into Liadan’s eyes. “They come.”
“Who comes, Mam? Our men?” Could they possibly return so swiftly? “How do ye know?”
Mam moaned as the hysteria deepened. Liadan freed herself from her mother’s grip and ran out.
Nay, she was not thinking clearly, had not for some time, or she could never have left such a fraught woman alone.
The healers’ hut was not far. She imagined one of the men might have gone with their warriors, since they anticipated such a mighty battle.
She had the healers’ hut in sight when the screams sounded. At first she thought it was Mam, having followed her. Then she realized the truth. Voices raised, cries of alarm, the crashing of arms.
“Attack! Attack!”
For several precious moments, her mind stuttered. She froze, not knowing which way to run. Her own home lay behind her. Flanna—Flanna had spent the night at her friend’s hut.
She ducked back and saw strangers rushing toward her through the settlement. Enemy warriors. The truth hit her, hit her like a boulder off the hillside. The enemy had but waited, waited till their own men were gone.
Fearghal had left a guard, aye, but from the numbers of enemy warriors she saw flooding the settlement, they would not be enough.
