The battered Owaine straightened, and Niall could see how much it cost him to hide his pain. "Is it really you?" Owaine asked, wonderingly. "Warrior of Glenfluirse? Champion of the chieftain Conn?"
Niall was so stunned by the adoration in the boy's eyes, he could only nod in answer. Had word of his exploits traveled so far?
"I know every one of your tales of valor! How you fought to win your seat at the head of Conn's table. The quests you set out upon to win a new name. It made me believe that perhaps I could—"He stopped, suddenly aware of the other boys. Niall could feel the embarrassment that sent color rushing into Owaine's cheeks.
"You will stay with me," Niall ordered Owaine. "As for the rest of you cowards, if ever I see you tormenting Owaine again, I will teach you a lesson in courage with my own hands!"
The boys scattered as if they feared he would take their hearts to the throne of the fairy queen, one of the legends that had sprung up around the first quest Conn had given him.
Owaine watched the boys run away with satisfaction, a smile curving his lips despite the nasty split in the lower one. Niall knew instinctively that Owaine's was not a mouth that smiled often.
"Go home, boy. They will not torment you now."
"I am not going home. Not ever again. There is nothing for me there but shame." The boy swabbed the blood from his face with one linen sleeve. "I go to Glenfluirse, to pledge myself to Conn."
Niall raised one eyebrow, fighting to keep the corner of his mouth from tipping in a wry smile. "You might have gotten there sooner if you let those other boys pass without a fight."
"That may be so." Owaine's gaze hardened. "Except that when I decided to go to Conn's fortress, I vowed to myself that I would never stand aside again, not for any man. If you could earn respect, honor, with the point of your sword, I could. But not if I kept running away."
Niall winced. This boy, betrayed by his mother, abandoned by his father, from what the other lads had said, had chosen a poor man to make a hero in his eyes. What would Owaine think if he knew how Niall had betrayed his chieftain on this final quest? The thought made Niall's gut knot, and he was furious with the boy and with himself for that flash of weakness. Why should this boy's good opinion suddenly matter so much?
Owaine grasped Niall's dirt-encrusted sleeve, the boy nearly trembling with excitement. "Perhaps we could travel together," Owaine suggested, his eyes shining with hope. "I could tend to your horse, sharpen your sword. I would not be any trouble, I swear it! And I am used to eating scarce anything at all."
Niall looked at Owaine's bony frame, angry at whoever had so mistreated the lad. He swallowed hard, hating to fail the boy. "I am not returning to Glenfluirse. Not for some time."
The lad's face fell. "I will find Glenfluirse on my own, then. It was what I always planned."
Niall peered into Owaine's face, that stubborn jaw, determination burning like embers in a face still soft as a child’s. And Niall knew a lad like Owaine had thrice the warrior's heart of any grown man he might find along this road.
"Owaine," Niall said solemnly, "I do have an important task I must charge someone with. Someone worthy of my trust."
The boy did not even have to speak. Niall knew Owaine instinctively enough to be certain he would walk through fire for him. It saddened Niall, made him shamed and proud in the same moment.
Niall untied the leather pouch, removed the missive. No fear that such a boy would be able to read it! "Owaine, will you vow to put this into the hand of Conn? Let no other man touch it."
"Aye, I swear it."
Niall drew his own dagger, the gold inlay shining in the sun. "This will be your weapon."
The lad's eyes nigh popped from his head. "Did it truly belong to the fairy queen? Did she leave it for you in exchange for an evil giant's heart?"
Niall wanted to deny it, but if the story wouldgive the boy courage on the journey ahead, let him believe what he wished.
"If you know the tales of my quests, you must also know I am not allowed to speak of them."
"You do not need to." Owaine grinned. "All of Ireland tells the stories for you! You will live in bard song 'til the end of time." Owaine tucked the message into the front of his leine,against his heart. Niall wondered what would happen to that heart when the boy learned that his hero had given him a lie to bear to the chieftain.
But there was no help for it. No one else to send. And Niall knew enough of Conn to be certain he would never take vengeance on an innocent boy merely tossed to him by the hands of fate. Conn would see the fire in Owaine's eyes, the heat of a warrior trapped in a boy's body. Owaine would be a gift to any chieftain set on defending his holdings. A gift too precious to be squandered. Conn had always had a the ability to see such promise in prospective warriors.
Aye, Conn was no fool. There could be no question the chieftain would see that Owaine was cared for, no matter how enraged he would be at Niall when the truth about the missive was known.
Niall watched the boy march off, Owaine'spraises echoing in his ears.You will live in bard song,Owaine had claimed. It was true, Niall knew. But the final verse in the tale of Niall of the Seven Betrayals would be a dark one. One cast in shame. Aye, he thought grimly. Let it be done. He turned his mount back toward Daire land.
Niall had hoped takingthe longest path back across Castle Daire land would give him time to soothe nerves ragged from Fiona's plotting, Owaine's adoration, and the ever-haunting image of Caitlin's lips before he kissed her. But the forlorn countryside he traveled only fed his guilt and anger and stark confusion.
What had happened? The land in his memory was lush and fertile, impossibly green and bursting with life. Crops thrived. Cattle grew fat, their calves frolicking about their heels. Wild game abounded, delighting the boy who had chased after it with toy weapons. But the Daire of his childhood had vanished. It was as if a pagan god of desolation had blown hot breath across the land, cursing it until scarce a living thing dared tread upon the grass.
Here and there, a rabbit darted, fearful. Agrouse or two broke from the underbrush. But nowhere did he find sign of the wild red deer and stags that once ruled the hillsides, harbingers of plenty.
