 
Guardians of the Grove

Morrighan's Champion

Copyright 2013 C. S. Fanning

Smashwords Edition

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Note: While many places and characters within this work are or were real, this is a work of fantasy. Ideas and concepts from a variety of cultures and time periods have been fused into a story that is pure fantasy. I hope you enjoy – C.S. Fanning

Of Pigs and Potatoes

The hamlet of Bretharc was the most boring place in all the lands. At least that was the opinion of Aeden and his friends. Potatoes and pigs were the sum total of Bretharc's contribution to the world and Aeden hated them both. Tales of the warriors of old filled his head during the evenings as much as the days were filled with work. The drudgery of his life was almost more than he could bear and living out his days as a pig farmer was a fate he was determined to escape at any cost.

His closest friends and he had planned for the past year to leave the small village on their Nameday. The Nameday was always held at midsummer or thereabouts when the Druid of the region passed through the villages. Those youth who had seen thirteen summers would be honored at a ceremony where the druid presided, and given a "quest" that once completed meant that they were considered adults and the responsibilities and rewards, such as there were, of adulthood. Calling it a "quest" was the laughable thing to Aeden's way of thinking, on last year's Nameday the boys that were coming of age had been assigned the task of capturing the feral pigs that were pillaging the potato fields, which was not Aeden's idea of a quest, not by a long way.

Now Faolan was the only one going. Riordan and Quinn were both planning to leave, but their path would lead them to places that Aeden and Faolan could not follow. They were to be apprenticed to the old Druid Liam, and would spend the next several years following the old man; learning the ways of these mystical priests. Aeden was jealous and he knew it; yet still he knew he wasn't meant for such pursuits. Books, poetry, and years of study were no more appealing to him than pig farming.

No matter how much he didn't like his friend's apprenticeship, the village was abuzz with excitement. No one could have imagined that a boy from Bretharc would become a pupil of the druids, much less two upon a single Nameday. Many believed this to be a sign of a grand future for the village. Aeden just thought of it as losing half of his friends in a single day. Faolan was loyal and Aeden knew he would follow him anywhere, but it grieved them both thinking that tomorrow might be the last time they ever saw Riordan and Quinn.

They met that evening as they oft did in the fields along the stream where they had played since early childhood. All four of the boys were far more solemn than they were accustomed to being. Aeden and Faolan listened with deepening sadness as their friends spoke with thinly veiled excitement about learning the histories and songs of the people of Eire as they travelled as well as learning, if they proved talented enough, the deeper mysteries of divination and magic. No one in the village had actually seen magic performed but everyone knew that the druids were taught such things.

Faolan was quickly caught up in the excitement, for the moment forgetting his glumness at being excluded. Aeden was not so easily cheered and if anything his mood worsened as his doubts about the future overpowered his resolve to enjoy this last evening with his friends.

Riordan approached him at one point. "Aeden, don't be sad, I am confident that we shall meet again" he had said quietly so that the others would not hear.

"Perhaps, but not here, for after tomorrow you and I shall both be gone from this place, never to return" Aeden responded, trying to control the melancholy that had begun to pervade his thoughts.

Riordan, whose father was virtually an elder of the village, was the last of seven sons to reach manhood. He had always been gifted in ways that none in the village could fathom. Riordan knew things that only became apparent in hindsight to others, and his gifts were so well accepted that already some in the village asked him questions about planting or the weather as though he were already an ovate in the druid order. Still, Riordan himself never gave much thought to his gifts and had never let them go to his head, which explained why so many people loved him.

Aeden knew her couldn't keep brooding and ruin this night with his friends or he would regret it forever. When he looked up at Riordan, he was surprised to find his friend holding forth an oil cloth wrapped object in both hands.

"Something to remember me by my friend" Riordan said.

Aeden's mind raced through memories of the years growing up here playing in the fields. They had often played at being warriors like in the old stories of the kings soldiers; using carved slats they had stolen from Riordan's father as swords. Riordan's father was the carter of the village, so it was never too difficult to make off with a stave or slat for their games.

Aeden smiled for the first time that evening, thinking that while he might no longer have the time to play childish games he would always be able to remember the good times he had enjoyed with his friends.

As Riordan placed the object in his hands, he knew that he had been wrong about what the cloth had kept hidden. There was no practice weapon or toy within this cloth. It weighed far too much for that. Whatever was contained within was made of metal; something extremely rare and valuable in the agrarian society of Bretharc. Whatever it was it was more than some token reminder of their boyhood games.

As he slowly unwrapped the cloth, his eyes shown with growing astonishment at the engraved blade that was slowly revealed in the fading light of the evening, Aeden knew that this was no hunting blade or skinning tool. What he held in his hand was a real weapon. The ornate designs on the blade suggested that the maker had thought to make this blade as beautiful as it was functional for the edge was true and sharper than anything that Aeden had ever held.

"Where did you come by this?" Aeden had to know.

"It was given to me by my father, with instruction to pass it on to you. He said that when he came here after being injured in the last war, he had known that someday one of the young men of this village would have need of this blade, and he believes that you are that young man" Riordan told him. "He said he could tell that you would never be able to appreciate the peace of our village, nor be content with raising pigs or potatoes."

"That is a King's Guard blade" Quinn interjected in astonishment as he noticed the weapon in Aeden's hand. Riordan was known for seeing into the heart of things, but Quinn was the natural genius of the village. Quinn knew everything about everything, and it was no surprise that he recognized the weapon in Aeden's hands.

Aeden didn't know many of the histories and songs of Bretharc, but the songs of Valor and Honor were not at all unknown to him. "Your father was a member of the King's Guard?" he asked, still admiring the shining blade in his hands.

"My father always told me stories of his adventures, but I thought them nothing more than stories until I found this last year. When I touched it I just knew that all the stories were true. I told my father that I saw you needing such a weapon. I think it worried him, but he didn't question me on the matter" Riordan said.

"I should imagine it did" Quinn chimed in, "we haven't had a war in Eire in years; not in a generation in fact."

Finally unwrapping the blade fully, Aeden held it out in a basic guard. It was very heavy despite the balance and Aeden wondered how well he could use it. He had always been the best among them when they sparred with staves, but never had the staves weighed so much. It was obvious from their looks that Quinn and Faolan both desired greatly to hold the blade themselves, and Aeden reluctantly relented, letting each hold and admire the fine blade in turn.

After they parted company for the evening, Aeden stopped by the tanner's, taking a piece of stiff leather and once home used it to fashion a scabbard. It was simple, even crude, but it made carrying the blade a great deal easier which would prove most beneficial on the trek he foresaw taking. When the scabbard was done, he packed a knapsack with some bread and cheese, throwing in a large hunk of the dried pork his father had stashed before stowing the lot beneath his small cot and lying down to futilely attempt to sleep.

Nameday

When the morning sun broke over the mountains to the east, Aeden had already been at his chores for hours. Most days he was so caught up in the monotony of his tasks that he didn't even notice the rising of the sun, but just as the light spilled across the land he heard a call that could only herald the coming of the Druid. Every year at the midsummer's feast, the druid came to Bretharc for the Nameday celebration. All of the children who were seeing their thirteenth summer were brought before the village on the hill of stones, and given their true name. This simple ceremony marked the transition to adulthood, and was conducted immediately after the feast.

The druid would then give each a quest. When they had completed this task, given them by the druid, they were no longer considered children and could choose for themselves their path in the world. Aeden hoped to be given a quest of some meaning, for it was said that the more difficult the quest the druid determined, the more successful the young man or woman would be. On the other hand, the simpler the task the druid assigned him the sooner he could escape the drudgery of his life.

Unusual events were afoot this day. When he arrived at the village center, he expected to find the old druid surrounded by supplicants all desiring healing or tips on providing for their crops or livestock all clamoring to be heard among the din. The usual supplicants were present, but they were all silent, as the villagers were witness to something not seen in Bretharc. Not one, but three druids stood in the square. The old druid was there in his simple white robes, but before him stood one who most surely was an archpriest of the order. The white robe was immaculate and the collar was of an emerald green shade that Aeden had never seen before. The cord belt tied around his waist, which Aeden knew to represent his rank in the order, matched the green shade of his collar. The finery of his robes and the color of his cord aside, Aeden would have recognized him immediately as old Liam's superior by the deferential manner in which the old druid with his stained robes and blue cord spoke to the man. They were obviously in disagreement about something, though Aeden could not discern the cause of their dispute since they spoke in hushed tones and were mutually respectful in their speech.

The third druid wore simpler robes than the other newcomer, but the green cord at his own waist signified him as an archpriest in his own right. He stood apart from the other two and seemed to be ignoring the quiet argument as he scanned the crowed as though looking for someone. He was a tiny man, barely as tall as Quinn who was the shortest among Aeden's friends, and as he looked in Aeden's direction their eyes met and the small man held his gaze. Aeden felt riveted by the gaze of the older druid, unable to move, and a very uneasy feeling past over him.

Aeden was unable to escape the piercing eyes of this druid until his companions asked him a question. For only a moment longer the small man held his gaze, and then turning to his fellows he drew a handful of slender sticks from the delicate pouch that was suspended from his belt. Squatting he cast them on the bare earth at his feet. The short man studied them for only a moment before looking up at the other two who were intently staring at the twigs themselves. After several moments of silence Liam shrugged in acceptance; whatever import the sticks held having convinced him that the archpriest was correct.

Their conflict resolved they moved through the people, talking and answering questions. The people of Bretharc were far more reserved than usual on this day that was meant as a celebration. It was only occasionally that the tiny village of Bretharc was visited by one of the ancient order of priests, and today they were blessed by the appearance of not one but three.

The feast was as festive as always and soon Aeden forgot the strangeness of the morning as he sipped mead and ate a robust amount of the roast pork, cheeses, and the fruits of the best harvest in many years. Before long everyone was relaxed and enjoying this rare break from their everyday toils, and Aeden and his friends were no exception.

When finally everyone had partaken of their fill of the feast, the Druid Liam arose to quell the rabble rousing so that the Nameday might proceed. Aeden became aware of an uneasy feeling, and looking around for the source of his unease he noticed the small druid watching him and his friends. He could not help but wonder what an archpriest of the druid order could find so interesting about him and his friends.

Aeden's ruminations were interrupted when Liam began to speak. "Good people of Bretharc, for many years I have enjoyed serving as the Druid of County Longford and, gods willing, will continue to do so for many long years to come, but today I have the honor of introducing the High Druid Mellan, who is the head of my order and will oversee the rituals this year.

Aeden was awestruck, and judging by the reaction of those around him, so were many others. Their little village was hosting not just an archpriest but the spiritual leader of all the Gaels, an honor rarely afforded even the big cities. This man was the leader of all druids, not just of Eire but of all the civilized lands. Great kings sought his council and accepted his judgments. Mellan was the reason that war had not plagued Eire since before Aeden's birth, and was a legendary figure even among the wise.

Mellan rose gracefully, hand out in a placating gesture. "People of Bretharc I can tell that many of you are ill at ease in your hearts, and I wish that I could tell you that my visit here was happy chance for I can tell that you are a good and decent people whom it is my honor to spend the day among. Unfortunately, I travel not for the pleasantries of good company, as you have guessed, but to bring warning of a danger foreseen. This man" he said, indicating the short archpriest that rose just long enough to be recognized "is a member of the high council of druids, and master of the arts of the divination. He has had a vision of a rising threat to our people and our way of life. A great host will march upon the Gaels from the south, driven by greed and zealotry, and the northern tribes will fall one by one until all are consumed."

The crowd was hanging on his every word, and his pronouncement caused a furor to erupt that threatened the order of the normally quiet and peaceful village. "People! People please!" Mellan's powerful voice thundered, as he gestured for the people to quiet and calm themselves. "This warning should be taken seriously, and we all need to make preparations to protect our lands and way of life, but this enemy has not yet marched in force and will not for some years to come. I share this with you not to cause a panic, but to help you understand that we druid's will be asking for your help, and the help of all good peoples, to prepare to repel this threat."

This speech did little to calm the people of Bretharc, and being simple farmers they were all concerned with the price of helping the druids, who already claimed a tithing of their harvest and when added to the taxes do the King and county made the bad years very bad indeed for poor farmers. This year the harvest was bountiful, but the village was growing and that meant more mouths to feed.

Mellan continued, louder than before to be heard over the low rumble of the crowd. "Druid Finnis's vision directly concerns your village" he announced, and that statement got the attention of the assembled villagers, and Mellan was swift to take advantage of the ensuing silence. "A young man from this village will play a pivotal role in the in leading the people through the trials ahead. The vision tells us he will be revealed to us at today's ritual."

The shock of such a pronouncement caused the crowd to buzz once again. How could a boy from the tiny farming village of Bretharc become so important to all the lands? It seemed impossible but Aeden hoped that the vision was true, feeling confident that if it were then he must surely be the one of whom the druid spoke. Glancing around at his friends, and noticing them all looking at him, he realized that they were thinking the same thing.

Leading the way to the ceremonial circle on the top of Stonehill, the druids began the ancient tradition of the Naming and divining the quests. Each young man or woman who was coming of age was brought before the druids and given a name which was very often synonymous with their future endeavors. After that each young man or woman was assigned a quest which the druid determined by reading the signs that only the druid conducting the ceremony could perceive. Aeden was of the opinion that the druid simply made it all up as they went along; perhaps noting something that needed doing that was within the grasp of those achieving adulthood.

There were nine young men and women coming of age this year in Bretharc; Aeden and his friends, as well as five of the village girls. He barely knew the girls and had paid little attention to them as they grew up within the same small village. It was only recently that he had really noticed them at all. Two of the five stood out. Teagan, the miller's daughter, was quiet and demure and very pleasant to look upon. This casual observation had begun to stir some unusual sensations within Aeden that he was unsure what to do about. The other was Fianna, a tall strong girl who Aeden despised. She was surly where Teagan was sweet, and had more than once turned her viperous tongue upon Aeden and company. It didn't help that she was seemingly always justified in doing so; in fact, to Aeden this was the very worst part.

Each of the nine was presented with a bag from which they drew a small twig upon which one of the Ogham fews were carved. Aeden knew that the Ogham could represent numbers, letters, and a host of more mystical meanings, but as the son of a herdsman he had only used them for counting, and had paid little attention to his lessons. It was a local superstition that the lower numbers were auspicious, so when Aeden drew an eight his spirits plummeted. Worse still, the smug look on Fianna's face made it clear that she had drawn number one. As the first few was called and Fianna mounted the steps to the altar in the very center of the circle of stones, Aeden felt lost and confused, everything about this day seemed unusual and he was sure that it was more than the nervousness that could be expected to accompany his Nameday.

Fianna stood before the altar as the High Druid placed his fingers upon her brow and whispered her true name in her ear. Even as he spoke, Aeden saw Fianna's startled reaction. Aeden wondered what name she had been given but recognized that he would probably never know as one's true name was only ever shared with one's closest friends. Next old Liam escorted Fianna to the small druid adept who was divining the quests. Normally this was all done by Liam himself, but then again, Bretharc had never had a Nameday ceremony with more than one druid present. The withered old Druid Finnis cast something that Aeden could not see upon the table and he studied it for several moments. Mellan walked over and joined him, and finally Finnis looked up at the head of his order. He waited until Mellan had worked out the meaning that he had already divined.

The moment that Mellan recognized what Finnis had already determined he looked up questioningly at his fellow druid, who nodded ever so slightly. Mellan spoke ever so quietly to Fianna for a long time, and when he finally finished speaking she looked at him as though unsure for what seemed like an eternity. Finally she nodded affirmatively and turned to walk from the stone circle, through the gathered crowd and off Stonehill, headed back toward the village without a word to anyone.

A stir of confused murmuring passed through those gathered. The quests were usually as public as the true names were not, and clearly the druids intended for no one to know what Fianna's task had been. No one in Bretharc would dare question a druid's judgment, especially not the High druid, but change made these simple folk as nervous as the swine they raised.

Mellan continued to act as though nothing unusual had occurred as he called the next of the Nameday candidates, a young girl who Aeden barely recognized. She was the baker's daughter, and after her naming Finnis cast the oracle which Aeden saw this time as simple fews not unlike the one that he held in his hand, and from this her quest was determined. This time Mellan loudly pronounced her quest to the assembled villagers. She was to acquire a recipe for way bread from Liam and learn to bake the long lasting meal in such quantities as to feed entire villages through the cold winters. If indeed she could manage this task perhaps the lean years would be a little less lean. This seemed a harder quest than usual, but the open pronouncement and the handling of the matter was more traditional and helped to ease the collective tension of the villagers that Fianna's secretive task had caused.

Faolan was third and his friends all clapped him upon the back as he walked slowly to the altar. Aeden saw his friend's quick smile as his name was given to him. His quest was as secretive as Fianna's and when he walked away without question, going in the opposite direction of Fianna, Aeden's was consumed with curiosity.

Next came Quinn, and as expected he was given his name and when the oracle was read it was pronounced that he would learn the ways of the druids. The only surprise was the rather than be apprenticed to old Liam, he would learn from Mellan himself. Though this was yet another surprise the stir it aroused in the crowd this time was one of pride. Never had such an honor been bestowed upon one of the folk of Bretharc, and in the wake of this news the people forgot all about the unusual nature of the proceedings thus far.

The two other girls came next and Aeden barely paid any attention to their quests as he was too caught up in listening to the whispers of the crowd around him. Teagan, Riordan and he were all that remained. As Teagan mounted the last steps to the altar, Aeden heard a sound right behind him. Turning he noticed a figure dressed all in leathers like a soldier darting away through the crowd. The noise had been at his feet and when he looked he was surprised to find his own pack along with his new sword lying on the ground right in front of him. Before he could give thought the strange delivery Riordan was tapping his arm. His turn had come.

Aeden was in a state of confusion as he mounted the steps. He met Teagan on her way down and could see the tears welling in her eyes. Aeden wished he had not been distracted by the sudden appearance of his gear and found himself desperately desiring to comfort Teagan though he couldn't imagine what had upset her so. There was nothing he could do but continue however, so with a growing sense of dread he crossed the last few feet to stand before the altar.

Swineherd

As Mellan touched his forehead, he whispered "Muccodha" in Aeden's ear. Aeden felt as though he had been kicked in the groin as the names meaning sank in. He could not meet the druid's gaze as he contemplated being known to his closest friends as Aeden the Swineherd. He wanted to scream out in defiance at this proclamation. How could this be his name? He would not be a swineherd for the remainder of his years! According to tradition, the druids were never wrong in their naming, and the name given had both meaning and power. Mellan tapped his brow rather roughly with his fingertips before drawing his hand away. Aeden was forced from his reverie and made to look up. The look on Mellan's face was one of stern disapproval, laced with concern.

Finnis cast the fews and with only a cursory inspection of them pronounced his doom. "Aeden's quest shall be to escort us to the river when we leave the village!"

Aeden wondered if he could be more humiliated. His big quest was to escort a couple of aging druid's a few hours walk on a sunny afternoon, even rounding up a few feral pigs to protect the potato fields seemed exciting by comparison. Aeden turned to walk down the steps when Finnis caught his arm.

"Shoulder your pack and keep that blade in easy reach; before this nightfall you may wish you'd been given a less arduous task. We leave this place as soon as this last young man is given his name and quest."

This turn of events was unexpected. Quickly he moved to gather his gear and prepare for his journey. By the time he was laden with pack and provisions Riordan had been given his name and quest which as expected was to be apprenticed to Liam.

Liam stepped up at this point and smoothly took over the ceremony, beginning the closing ritual even as Mellan, Finnis, and Quinn proceeded down the hill at a somber pace. The gathered villagers drew apart to open a way for the company. It was in that moment that Aeden first noticed the strangers. There were three people among those assembled that Aeden had never before seen in Bretharc.

The most prominent was a grizzled old man with one eye who in the crowd calmly watching the events. His visage was such that Aeden was intrigued by the fact than none of the villagers seemed to take notice of him. The other two were another matter. Though they were dressed like everyone else and their appearance less hideous than that of the old man, the crowd began to part around them in rising terror. The reason became obvious in moments as Aeden saw that they brandished knives and were rushing at Mellan who was occupied talking to Quinn as they walked down the steps of Stonehill.

For only an instant, Aeden stood paralyzed, as the assailants charged his friend. As the would be assassins passed between him and the old man he noticed the old man motioning for him to cut them off. A rush of fear and anger swept over him and he leapt forward to bar the path to his friend and the druid, but he was too late. Rather than move in front of the two men, he ran right into the closest of the attackers and his momentum knocked the man from his feet causing him to crash into the legs of the other man.

They fell together, arms and legs flailing for purchase as a mob of angry villagers struck at them with staves and stones. In seconds the two men were bloodied and either dead or dying. Aeden looked around but couldn't see the old man anywhere. A hand touched his elbow causing him to start. He realized that his sword was out, in his hand, and he had nearly skewered Liam who was at his elbow with Riordan.

"Come lad, let's get out of here before they make you into a hero" Liam whispered, guiding both Aeden and his new apprentice away from the crowd and over Stonehill toward the north pastures. The open country around Bretharc proper provided little cover, and Aeden could tell Liam sought to hide them from the village by taking this route.

"Liam, I have to go back. I'm to escort the High Druids to the river!" Aeden said in hushed but forceful whisper that he could not have imagined using with the old Druid before.

"Aeden, we will meet them on the road by the outer pastures. Trust me when I tell you those men can take care of themselves. Riordan is our greatest priority; he must be protected at all costs" Liam replied, his words laced with dire imports and warnings that Aeden could not even begin to unravel. Something was amiss in what he said, something simple yet meaningful that Aeden could not unravel no matter how he tried.

As confused as he was by this statement, Aeden had little choice but to follow Liam, particularly since he had no idea where Mellan and Finnis were at present. Liam guided them straight across the potato fields to the thick timber that stood where the fields ended. Soon they were wondering along paths that Aeden could not even see until Liam would suddenly turn and they found themselves upon a new track through the dense undergrowth that Aeden would have sworn was not there only moments before. At one point he chanced a look back in an effort to determine their direction, when he noticed that he could no longer distinguish the trail they had just traversed only seconds before.

Liam pushed them onward, leaving Aeden no chance to inquire about the peculiarities of their flight. Gradually the dense thickets gave way until they were travelling in open wood and Aeden began to recognize landmarks with which he was very familiar. They were headed directly for the boy's hangout near the stream. Was it by chance or did Liam know of this place, and if so, how?

They were almost at the stream when the rider appeared. His horse leapt the stream and galloped toward them. The brown robes of the rider swirled around him as he drew up sharply. A group of five men charged through the stream behind him swiftly overtaking and passing the rider.

"Aeden, protect Riordan" Liam whispered fiercely before moving forward toward two of the approaching men. The remaining three were moving; two to the right and one to the left of them, circling around the pair that Liam confronted.

Calling to Riordan to follow him Aeden started off toward the boys old hideout built of driftwood at the water's edge. The single aggressor that had moved in that direction shifted to bar his path and was brandishing a wicked looking knife. Aeden could hear the other two closing from behind them as they ran, and knew he had seconds to get past the man before him if he and Riordan were to have any chance of escaping.

Aeden had worked around dangerous beasts since he was very young. Pig farming might be dull, but it had its dangers. A protective sow with piglets or an angry boar could injure, maim, or kill an unwary farmer, so learning to recognize the signs and avoid the charge of a crazed beast was something Aeden knew well. When the man, who was arguable more intelligent than the hogs that Aeden had worked with, began to lunge at him with the knife extended, Aeden was already acting to counter the attack which he had recognized almost as fast as the man thought it. Just as the man committed his weight to the lunge, Aeden stopped in his tracks. As the man passed mere inches in front of him, Aeden brought up his sword, thrusting it out, and pierced the man's side just below his ribs and thrust up into his chest. Aeden spun as the man's weight drove the sword forward and the two went down in a pile.

"Run Riordan!" Aeden yelled as his body became entangled with his adversary. The fall left the man, now dead, lying across Aeden's legs and pinning him to the ground. The warm blood poured from the enormous wound that Aeden had inflicted in the man's side, and as Aeden pulled free his sword, long ropes of the attacker's entrails spilled free in a loose coil. Someone who had not slaughtered more hogs than he could count might have been queasy at such a sight, but Aeden barely took notice as he pushed the man off his legs and rose to assess the situation.

Riordan had almost made it to the relative cover of the hideout, with the remaining assailant's in pursuit. Liam was cut and bloody but somehow the old man was holding his own, unarmed against two much younger enemies. Riordan might make the shelter of the hideout, but what then? There was no door and the construction wouldn't hold up against a determined assault even if there was. Aeden had to make a choice that could not only determine whether he lived or died but also which of his companions would likely die, alone and outnumbered.

His indecision might have proven fatal for both his companions had he not noticed something that chilled him to his core. Riordan was looking back at his pursuers while running over the familiar ground as fast as his legs could carry him, so he didn't see the shadow detach itself from the darkened entrance to the hideout and move in his direction. Aeden broke into a run that would never arrive in time even as he shouted for Riordan to watch out. Riordan was only feet from this new danger when the newcomer drew two knives from his belt.

The knives were unlike the sleek little blades carried by the other assassins, instead being the large curved knives used to skin and scrape hogs. Aeden experienced a moment of confusion as Riordan nearly crashed into the newcomer. With one hand the cloaked form grasped Riordan's cloak and guided him toward the waiting opening of the shelter while with the other he hefted one of the blades and threw it straight at the nearest of the pair in pursuit, striking the man in the chest, knocking him off his feet. The newcomer held his remaining blade before him in a stance that Aeden thought looked very familiar. The remaining assassin proceeded warily to approach the hooded man standing between him and his quarry. His attention was divided by Aeden's swift approach, and he attempted to circle so that his opponents would no longer be on either side of him and this proved his undoing. The assassin caught his foot on a root, stumbling, and fell to one knee. In the moment it took him to regain his balance both Aeden and the stranger were upon him.

The would-be assassin dove for Aeden at the last second, just as Aeden's sword descended with a sickening crunch into the man's shoulder. Aeden winced as the assassin's blade grazed his side, but the life had gone out of the man and he lay bleeding upon the ground his breath gargling in his chest once, twice, and then no more. Aeden whirled to face the stranger who had saved Riordan only to find himself looking upon the face of his dearest friend Faolan. There was no time for questions or greetings however, and both young men turned and raced for the spot where Liam still fought.

Liam's white robes were stained with blood, but somehow he still struggled on. Before the boys could reach him, they heard a twang and a whistling sound as something streaked out of the forest and struck one of the one of Liam's attackers in the back. Aeden and Faolan both stared as the man fell dead, an arrow sticking out of his spine.

A sharp crack echoed across the clearing a moment later and the other assailant crashed to the ground, his leg bent in an unnatural direction. He lay groaning on the ground as Liam haltingly stepped toward the mounted figure who had watched the scene play out passively.

"Not in living memory has a member of our order so desecrated our sacred bond of brotherhood. Leave this place or be utterly destroyed" Liam intoned with a booming voice that sounded far more vital than the blood-soaked old man appeared capable of producing.

"I answer to no simple country priest" countered the rider. "I answer only to the High Druid of Gaul, and you are the one who dishonors our brotherhood. You and your false High Druid are nothing but impotent charlatans. We no longer recognize your Master's authority, and break all ties to your council!" screamed the irate rider. "I am High Priest of the forest arts, and your better. Bow before me priest!"

Liam's laughter was long and hearty, and sounded so sincere that those watching surely thought that the rider had spoken some particularly funny jest. "You have been warned" Liam said, suddenly turning serious. "Ride for your life."

The rider's haughty aspect burned with pure rage and his hands moved in intricate patterns. Suddenly the bushes around Liam moved as though alive with animal intelligence, reaching toward him as though to grab him. Liam shook his head slowly as though he had all the time in the world. He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture and the movement of the plants ceased as though it had never been.

"You may be gifted, but this is my forest!" Liam said with rising furor.

Both Druids moved then and to the shock of Aeden and his friends, a large section of the forest came alive. Limbs and branches lashed at one another like soldiers clashing at the onset of a great battle. Branches were snapping, trunks cracking, and smaller shrubs were ripped wholly from the earth. The whistling of another arrow passed near him causing Aeden to flinch as he stared in awe at the duel of powers he neither understood nor would have believed existed were he not seeing it with his own eyes.

The arrow struck the rider in the thigh passing through flesh and jabbing into the already panicking horses ribs. The sudden sting of the arrow was all the poor beast could stand and despite its rider's attempts to rein it in the animal bolted back across the stream at a fast gallop.

As the strange Druid was carried away by his crazed mount, two things began to happen at once. Liam, who had fought so bravely, suddenly collapsed to his knees coughing and to the young men's dismay frothy blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Riordan ran toward his mentor swiftly just as yet another figure stepped into the open. It was Fianna, and the leathers she wore and the bow in her hand finally explained to Aeden who had delivered his gear to him before his Naming.

"Why are you here?" Aeden demanded, but Fianna ignored him and continued straight to Liam.

"I am sorry that I cannot serve as your mentor Riordan" Liam was saying. "I would be honored if you would accept this and use it in your quest" the old man said, tugging a worn pouch free of the cord belt at his waist and proffering it to Riordan. There were tears streaming down Riordan's face as he accepted this final gift.

"Come here you others" Liam whispered. "I cannot continue with you, so now you must carry on without me. There are more dangers on your path, and it doesn't take an oracle to see that. Fianna knows the way, follow her to Mellan and he will give you further instructions." Looking straight at Aeden he spoke one final time. "Fianna is to be your leader. You are charged with the protection of Riordan and get him safely to his new mentor. You have been given a rare gift Aeden; discover it and you will find the destiny you seek."

With these last words the old Druid died in Riordan's arms. "We need to move; there is a storm to the south and I saw signs of many more enemies moving in the woods on my way here" Fianna announced.

Aeden was too shocked to argue, so helping Riordan to his feet and gently laying the old man down, he whispered words that seemed to come from someone else. "Come Riordan, the forest will reclaim its own."

Reunion

Aeden was confused and somewhat dizzy, but he had been confused so often this day that he never considered that the source was more than just events that he was not privy too. Why would old Liam put Fianna in charge? Aeden had done more to keep them alive than her had he not? The vague feeling of dizziness was growing and before long he was stumbling along barely aware of his surroundings.

He was not, at this point, even aware that of his own condition until he nearly ran into Fianna who had stopped to listen to the sounds of the forest. "What are you doing?" he said and to his surprise his words were slurred as though he had sipped too much mead at the Yule Feast.

Fianna clapped her hand over his mouth and drug him to the ground. Faolan, knife in hand, used his weapon to point at Aeden's side. Fianna looked where he pointed and rolled her eyes shaking her head. "Fool, are you trying to kill us all?" she hissed. He didn't understand what was happening, but when she lifted his head and pointed, he could see the encampment across the pasture that they had come to. There were several hundred pigs between themselves and the assassin's camp on the other side, which fortunately had saved them from his bungling. Fianna lowered him back down. "Why didn't you mention this?" she asked.

Before Aeden could answer, Faolan did so for him. "I saw it happen, and it looked to me like the blade must have missed him. He didn't even flinch so perhaps he didn't even know that he was cut."

"Well you would think he would notice one whole leg soaked in his own blood. That cut is deep, and we can't carry him, and we don't have the supplies to treat him. I'm not certain how we are supposed to get past that encampment as it is, but with him stumbling around he's sure to get us all killed" Fianna announced.

Aeden was drifting near to the void of sleep when the import of her words soaked through his addled consciousness. Evidently the "scratch" had been worse than he had anticipated, and now Fianna was suggesting that they leave him behind. He struggled to rise to tell them he could make it when a twig snapped behind them back down the trail they had followed. Faolan drew his knives while Fianna knocked an arrow while Riordan pushed him back down, shielding him with his own body. A figure, cloaked in brown not unlike the foreign druid was slipping quietly towards them. Fianna drew and took aim just as the figure looked up.

"Don't shoot" Teagan said in her slightly annoying voice that Aeden had recently decided was more than offset by her developing figure. As the baker's daughter approached them quietly she looked them over, her eyes falling on the blood soaking Aeden's side. "Move aside" she said. No one questioned her and they all moved back from Aeden looking at one another confused. "Does it hurt much" Teagan asked, kneeling beside Aeden as though wounds of this nature were nothing new to her.

Aeden managed to shake his head from side to side. "I have to sew this up" she told him. Taking a needle already threaded with a course thread that Aeden recognized as the same intestine that he used to stitch injured pigs from her bag she began wiping away the fresh blood from the wound. Holding the needle up in front of him to let him know she was about to begin, she quickly and deftly began stitching the long wound.

Aeden grit his teeth against the pain and tried to breathe normally. The pain that had been only a dull ache before flared into searing agony that made lights dance before his eyes. Aeden was near to swooning when Teagan finally finished. He'd lost a lot of blood and the pain had been horrendous while she was closing the wound.

"Teagan, we have to move, can he walk?" Fianna asked.

"He should be in bed for a couple of days, but I can give him something that will make him able to walk for a while, as long as he doesn't have to run or fight" she answered.

Fianna seemed to be ready to leave him behind, but Riordan came to his rescue. "Liam put you in charge of the group Fianna, but he charged Aeden with my protection. I stay with him" he said.

Fianna was silent a moment. "Give him the herb, but if he falls behind, he gets left behind."

The question of how to get past the camp still loomed and each of them pondered how it might be done as Teagan administered the herbal concoction that felt to Aeden like fire had been poured down his gullet. Almost instantly the dizziness began to recede and Aeden found his strength returning. Gingerly he sat up and peered across the field. "Fianna, what would you do if you had a few hundred dangerous men ready to attack their camp?" he asked.

Fianna looked from Aeden to Teagan, clearly wondering what she had given him. "I suppose I would charge right through them" she finally answered.

"That's what I was thinking" Aeden said smiling.

It took him a few minutes to explain his plan, and though Fianna had her doubts, under the circumstances it was virtually the only option they had. Five minutes later they were in position, and Fianna advanced toward the herd of pigs for her part in Aeden's crazy plan despite her grave concerns about the feasibility.

Aeden smiled as he watched each of his companions move into position. Fianna and Faolan were on the flanks of the herd, with himself in the center and Teagan and Riordan on either side of him between himself and the other two. Aeden understood pigs, as much as he didn't want to, and one thing he knew was that once a panicked pig began to move in a direction it was hard to stop. When an entire herd of pigs panicked, it was advisable to be somewhere out of their path.

Aeden raised his hand and let it drop. Faolan and Fianna jumped up from the grass screaming and making all the noise they could as they rushed toward the herd. They had taken no more than a single step when Teagan and Riordan mimicked their actions, and Aeden followed suit a step behind yelling and waiving his sword in the air like a madman.

When it was all said and done even Aeden was surprised at how well his plan had worked. Over a hundred hogs had made the enemy's encampment their personal escape route and the damage was incredible. Tents and supplies were scattered across acres of the adjoining forest and at least three of the camp guards had perished under the sharp hooves of the stampeding pigs. The number might have been higher had they taken the time to inspect some of the lumps hidden beneath the canvas of some of the ruined tents.

Of those that managed to escape the crazed swine, one fell hamstrung from a wicked blow of one of Faolan's big knives and two more dropped with the shafts of Fianna's arrows protruding from their backs. Others had escaped the slaughter, at least two that Aeden had seen, so they were still on their guard as they moved through the camp in the wake of the stampede.

Faolan, Fianna, and Teagan had rummaged through the supplies left unattended by the time that Riordan and Aeden made it to the timber on the far side of the encampment. They were all carrying packs laden with enough food and gear for twice their number to feast upon for a week as they regrouped and continued on along the path that Riordan found for them.

It was nearly an hour later when they came upon Mellan, Finnis, and Quinn. The storm that had been a cause for concern earlier had died away as quickly as it had formed and moments later the two druid adepts, along with a rain soaked Quinn, had appeared in the path as though they had always been there. Quinn seemed very agitated, and it was obvious that he had adventures to share as well, but Mellan took charge right away.

"We still have enemies about, despite their losses" he announced after Fianna gave him a very brief account of their harrowing escape and subsequent adventures. "Finnis and I will delay and distract them but I fear we must alter our original plans. Fianna will lead all of you to the river, and you will use the boat that waits to cross then cut it loose, making sure that the current carries it away. Should any of our enemies sort out that you are not with us and pursue you this should throw them off your track at least for a time. I know that some of you thought your part in this would end at the river, but if you return to Bretharc now you will almost certainly be captured, tortured, and once you are broken, you will be killed. You will all need to follow Fianna until this is settled. After we have determined that it will be safe we will send any that wish back home. If we do not find you before, you should continue on until you reach the druid isle. It is a journey of some weeks, but it is the only place your safety can be assured."

Aeden never intended to stay in Bretharc, and other than getting stabbed he was living his dream. Teagan, on the other hand, was very upset. The rest of the group seemed to have expected this, and though there was some concern about being separated from the two druids they were all prepared to leave Bretharc behind.

Finnis stepped forward and took Aeden by the arm, leading him away from the group to a fallen log where he had Aeden sit down. He drew out his fews and cast them once more. After studying a moment he looked up at Aeden. "Your destiny is still tied to your friends, you must remain with him and be his protector" he said. "At some point your actions will determine his future, and in that moment your own destiny will be decided, for good or for ill."

Calling Teagan over he lifted Aeden's shirt to look at the wound and after inspecting it thoroughly he looked at the disconsolate young girl and nodded. She seemed to understand that this was praise, and that from a druid of the high council, and she smiled for the first time since before the Naming ceremony.

Finnis pulled a small tin from his bag and rubbed some ochre colored paste onto the wound. Aeden flinched at first but the soothing warmth that spread from the sticky salve overcame the discomfort in seconds. Handing the tin to Teagan he instructed her in its use and formulation. "You do not wish to leave your home, but I see you becoming a great healer" he told her. Teagan beamed at his words.

Mellan joined them at that moment and wished them well. "May your journey be safe and swift" he said. Without further words he and Finnis disappeared into the forest like the morning fog before the rising sun.

The Crossing

"Are you ready to travel?" Fianna asked as soon as the druids had left. Aeden wasn't certain, but he wasn't going to show weakness in front of Fianna. It still rankled him that the druids had put her in charge, but he took Finnis's warning to keep Riordan safe as tacit approval to ignore her instructions if he determined that her orders were not sound.

"I'm ready" he said, hoping the he was being truthful.

As the six of them sat out, Quinn began to quietly share his experiences with the two druids and soon the rest of them began to realize that his experience had been no less eventful than their own. As he told the story, the company drew in around him to hear it. If his story was to be believed, and Quinn was not known for embellishing, his adventure had been downright magical.

Mellan and Finnis had guided him south from the road and no one even seemed to notice their passage until three horsemen had galloped through the village searching. The horsemen had spotted them making for the timber south of the road and came charging after them. They had made the wood only seconds ahead of the riders, and Quinn had thought for a moment that they had lost them when suddenly a clearing opened in the deep woods and right before them the three riders sat upon their mounts. They were druids, all dressed in brown robes, from what he gathered of the talk that began between themselves and Mellan. Quinn had barely understood the argument that began, but it had been brief and ended suddenly in a tongue similar to the one spoken across Eire, but still not of this land. The crux of the argument was that the brown robed druids were from across the sea in the land of Gaul, and they believed that the High Druid and his council no longer ruled over them.

Mellan had ended the argument in no uncertain terms. Clapping his hands together the sky had turned the black of a spring storm and a bolt of blue lightning had struck the speaker, killing horse and rider in the blink of an eye. The remaining two had begun moving almost instantly and one of them repeated Mellan's gesture, Mellan had raised his staff and the bolt of lightning that was meant to strike him was struck upon the staff instead causing the intricately carved wood to glow a brilliant white. Meanwhile, Finnis had uttered a word in a tone so deep that Quinn could barely hear it and it sounded as though the very earth had uttered it. As he pronounced this word of power he struck his own staff upon the ground and Quinn watched in awe as a fissure opened, angling toward the third brown robed druid. The earth shook as the horse and rider both fell into the yawning chasm.

The rider who had called down the lightening turned then to flee, but Mellan raised his staff and a bolt of lightning shot forth striking both horse and rider. The horse stumbled and fell, taking the rider with him to the ground. Quinn thought them dead, but unlike leader of the trio who still smoldered atop his charred mount, the final rider twitched and stirred and his mount rose on shaking legs and bolted from the clearing.

Finnis tapped the earth with his staff and the fissure closed, leaving no trace of the horse or its rider that had fallen in. Mellan strode over to the fallen enemy. He spoke in a low voice and Quinn could not make out what was said but the man blanched at Mellan's words. He vigorously shook his head before staggering to his feet and limping away to the south. Mellan raised his staff once again, and Quinn trembled, expecting to see the fleeing druid struck down but the powerful bolt of lightning pierced the clouds above and they broke up almost instantly.

"Most initiates are not shown any real magic until after they are admitted fully into the order. Do not attempt to duplicate what you have witnessed here today for such power is extraordinarily dangerous to the user and the land itself" Finnis told him as Mellan returned to stand with them.

Mellan heard enough of this warning to add his own thoughts. "The histories tell us that once our kind strove against one another and nearly destroyed the lands from which we came. I fear our friends from across the sea have forgotten their lessons. This must be stopped!" Looking to Finnis he added "we must get these young ones on their way to the island, and then you and I must visit our Brythonic brothers and set good Cryllian back upon the path." Without further discussion they turned north by east and though Mellan's weather magic had soaked him to the bone, Quinn soon found himself sweating as he toiled to keep up with the two older druids, who seemed to move through the underbrush like smoke, while he struggled and fought as the briars resisted his every movement.

By the time Quinn had shared his adventures and the rest had filled him in on their own it was growing close to nightfall. They had not yet come to the river, despite Fianna goading and pushing them all to move faster, Teagan and Riordan were all but spent and Aeden's wound was bleeding again from his efforts and he was beginning to feel faint once more.

When they finally reached the river the moon had risen and darkness covered the land. Faolan argued that they should make camp and cross at first light, but Fianna countered that they would not be safe until they were on the other side. Finally, it was something completely unexpected that made the decision for them.

Far to the west, they heard the baying of hounds, and in minutes the fell sounding beasts were noticeably closer. They had no way to know if the hunt was on for them or not, but they could ill afford to wait and see. Gathering their supplies and loading them into the small boat took overlong in the darkness and the baying of the hounds had grown to near for comfort by the time they pushed off from the shore and awkwardly paddled for the far shore. The river was wide and thankfully slow as well, as none of the party was particularly experienced with boats.

They were several hundred yards downstream when they finally reached the far bank, and the baying of the hounds was quite close. Unloading the boat quickly, Fianna waded out as far as she could into the murky water and propelled the boat with a powerful shove toward the middle of the stream where the current was strongest.

As Fianna drug herself from the river, the rest of them gathered their gear and carried it into the dense forest that lay only a few yards from the bank. By the time Fianna had rejoined them the baying hounds were just across the water where they had been arguing about the crossing. They all gathered together under the cover of a huge draping willow tree and watched as the hounds searched the far bank of the river.

The hounds' eerie cry could be heard clearly across the gurgling water of the river, and soon they could see the enormous furry beasts milling about in the moonlight at the point where they had launched the boat. Any hope that the pursuit had been for any other quarry evaporated.

Though no one spoke of it, each was wondering how their pursuers had overcome the efforts of the two druid adepts and what might have befallen these two powerful men. Had the pursuers been gifted enough to recognize the false trail they had lain, or had they somehow bested Mellan and Finnis, two of the most powerful men in the lands of the Gaels? Neither of these options gave the members of their small band much comfort.

A sudden light just across the water from them gave them all a start, and as six pairs of eyes looked down the river, they saw an old man holding a torch smiling across the water at them. He seemed oblivious to the hounds that now loped downstream toward him with deadly intent. Aeden knew the face of the old man; he had seen him early this very day at the Naming and with all the events between then and now he had not thought of him since. This man was no local, and his presence at the ceremony was as mysterious as his presence at the river now.

The old man waved to them across the river, and then motioned for them to stay down. They were shocked by the fact that he was clearly aware of their presence, but each felt strangely compelled to comply with his direction.

"Those dogs are going to tear him apart" Fianna whispered.

"I don't think so" Aeden replied, not sure of why he felt so certain, but positive nonetheless.

They watched with growing anticipation as the hounds bounded toward the old man. Just as the lead hound leapt in what should have been a throat rending attack, the old man stepped back and smacked the big hound on the snout with a thin branch. At first the beast appeared to be enraged by the annoying lash, but even as its mates joined it they all began to scamper about the old man like pups vying for the master's attention.

It was comical, in a way, to watch this display after the stresses of past few minutes. After each of the big curly haired hounds had come forward for a pat on the head the old man turned and trotted into the forest away from the river. The hounds followed him, their voices once again taking on the long peeling howls of pursuit as they chased after the old man.

Moments passed, as the sounds of the hounds grew farther from the river, and the sound of galloping horses rang out on the road across the river. Three riders appeared along the far bank, turning downstream to follow the sound of their hounds. The old one-eyed man was long gone, but the sounds of the hounds, though growing fainter, still clearly marked where they chased him through the dense woodland. The riders stopped at the water's edge, casting about for signs, and Aeden had the feeling that they were as keen at tracking as the hounds they followed.

The riders were hooded and cloaked, making them difficult to distinguish, except for the apparent leader who appeared to be wearing an antlered crown. The children of Bretharc grew up hearing stories of the horned god and his hunt, so the imagery was both familiar and terrifying. The distant baying of the hounds suddenly grew more intense, a sure sign to a hunter that the quarry was close. Two of the riders mounted their horses then, giving chase. The horned rider remained where he was, casting his gaze back and forth across the ground near the water's edge. Finally, he paused for several seconds, and then mounted his steed. Riding right to the point where they had launched the boat. After studying the ground there for a time, he lifted his head and looked all around.

Aeden was unnerved for the first time since the appearance of the old man. This horned rider scared him in a way that nothing ever had. There was a wrongness about him that was inexplicable. As he sat upon his horse, Aeden privately prayed that he would follow his comrades, but his hopes were dashed when the rider rode straight forward into the stream, urging his horse into the water.

Fianna looked at Aeden and he saw his own fears mirrored in her eyes. He knew the question weighing on her mind and though he knew the answer he should give, the terror that filled him made answering her all but impossible. As he looked at her he saw Fianna's fearful expression slowly harden. A fierce look of determination wrapped in bands of steel fell upon her countenance. Aeden could tell that Fianna's decision was made and like it or not they were not running this time. Nodding his understanding he tried to master his fear.

Fianna spoke to Faolan and Quinn as he watched the rider's progress. Wordlessly Faolan joined him as Fianna gave her final instructions to Quinn. They watched as the rider made the shore on their side of the river and began working down the shore toward them. Despite the fear in his eyes and the quaking of his limbs Faolan drew his twin set of skinning knives, setting his stance in a defiant pose. Aeden, seeing his friend master himself so, drew his sword and steeled himself against the terror that was eating away at his own determination.

As the two friends waited for what both thought could well be their doom in the shadow of the great willow, Fianna clambered up in the branches of the big tree, while Quinn led Riordan and Teagan deeper into the thicket. They didn't have long to wait, for the rider approached steadily and unwaveringly toward the very tree in which the three waited.

The rider was perhaps twenty feet away when Aeden, flanked by his friend stepped through the curtain of branches to face the source of their terror. "You will come no further rider!" Aeden spoke hoping that the quaver in his voice was only obvious to himself.

"Such an impudent child; give me the druid's pupil and I will not flay you where you stand" the rider replied in a voice that spoke of evil deeds and dark powers.

Even as he finished speaking, Aeden heard the telltale twang of Fianna's bow. He had seen her shoot three men today at much longer range than this rider now stood and expected to see this man fall dead from his saddle, but as the arrow streaked toward him the man flexed the fingers of his hand and the arrow shattered midflight, falling harmlessly to the ground. He flexed his other hand, and Aeden and Faolan heard a grunt, followed by the sound of snapping branches and then to their terror Fianna screamed. The sound of Fianna's scream ended yards from where it began with a sickening thump.

Fianna's bow had been their best and perhaps only hope, and now they didn't even know if she still lived. Something inside of Aeden shifted, and just when he thought that he might well bolt in terror, the fear drained from him and he lifted his sword, filled with new and deadly purpose. "You will not have what you come for" he said, the new found strength of his voice surprising even him.

A wry grin spread across the stranger's face, only to fade at the sound of new voice. "I claim this one, pretender. Be gone from this place or suffer my wrath."

Aeden and Faolan both started at the sound of the woman's voice just behind them, twisting about to see this new arrival. It was indeed a woman, who appeared to be wearing nothing more than a cloak of raven feathers. She was bathed in a cold green glow that seemed to emanate from within.

The rider's eyes widened, recognition dawning in his expression. "This concerns you not crone" he ventured, clearly distressed by the woman's sudden appearance.

"If I have chosen a mortal champion, then I have made it my concern. Your concern should be what will happen to you when the one you are pretending to be discovers what you are doing in his guise" she responded in a voice that suggested she was talking to an errant child.

The two young men on the bank had no idea of what these two strangers were speaking of, but for the moment it appeared that Aeden and Faolan had acquired an unexpected ally. The woman certainly didn't appear to fit the description of a crone to Aeden's thinking as she stepped past them to face the rider, but now was not the time to be admiring her form, no matter how revealing her unusual cloak.

"You seem to know who I am so you should know what I am capable of. Ride now; your gods have no power in these lands to match my own" she spoke in rising ire until her voice rang like the clash of steel on a battlefield. Aeden trembled suddenly suspecting that he knew who had come to their aide.

"Perhaps we shall see crone" the rider said, extending his hand as he did. A gout of flame stretched forth from his hand and engulfed the woman, wreathing her in fire as Aeden and Faolan fell back. The heat from the flame was nearly unbearable and for a moment the hopes of the two young men seemed wasted.

Just as it felt as though the very air around them must surely ignite, a throaty call like that of a crow resounded from within the sphere of flame surrounding the woman, and an enormous black bird erupted from the fire trailing smoke and ash in its wake as it hurtled toward the rider. As it streaked forward it transformed into a blinding bolt of concentrated light and struck the rider in the face, knocking him bodily from his mount.

Faolan turned his eyes from the sudden light, but Aeden watched in awe as the rider was cast into the river. The horned helm flying high into the air was split asunder and then consumed by the turbulent waters of the river far out from the shore. As the glaring light faded Aeden could once again see the woman, who he was pretty sure was no woman at all, standing in the shallows by the shore. The rider was dead or senseless, bobbing in the stream as the current carried him away.

"Camlinn, take him to your mother and ask her to see him from our shores" the cloaked woman said. Camlinn was the name of the river, and Aeden doubted not that even the rivers listened when the Morrighan, the great queen, spoke.

Aeden climbed back to his feet, and pulled Faolan up with him. As she turned slowly to face the boys, Aeden took a knee and bowed his head. Faolan hesitated but a moment before mimicking Aeden's pose. He was confused and unsure of what had transpired, and his memory of the past few moments was clouded. He didn't understand why Aeden was showing such deference to this strange woman, and was dumbfounded when Aeden spoke to her.

"Thank you for your aide my queen; how may I serve you?" Aeden said without raising his head. To Faolan, she appeared to be just some crazed and rather lewdly dressed hermit woman, but Aeden referred to her as a queen and placed himself in her service. Didn't they have enough on their plate? Had Aeden hit his head or something?

"Will you serve as my champion and do my bidding in this realm?" the strange woman asked.

To Faolan's utter horror Aeden responded immediately. "Yes my queen."

The Morrighan smiled sweetly. "Very well and nobly answered, I will grant you this boon as reward for your continued service. Lay your weapon upon my hands" she told him.

Faolan heard nothing after Aeden's agreement to serve as her champion, the confusion that permeated his mind becoming so intense that later he would only vaguely remember what had happened since their crossing. He neither saw nor heard when Aeden rose and following the goddess's instruction lay his blade upon the Morrighan's outstretched hands.

The blinding light reappeared, this time coming from the palms of her hands and enveloped the blade. The intricate carved patterns seemed to capture the light and absorb it. After a moment the light faded leaving the blade glowing dully in the moonlight.

"This blade is now linked to your will. Its edge will cleave anything that your mind can grasp so long as you are in service to me. Sometimes even we of the old ones cannot perceive all outcomes, and such is the nature of this blade. I sense that this weapon's destiny will be bound to the lands of the Gaels long after we are gone, you and I" the Morrighan said softly.

Aeden had honestly believed that the gods of his people were nothing more than legends until one of the most powerful of them had appeared to him this very night. Now he arose, the mortal champion of the goddess who had been his favorite in the tales of his childhood. "My queen you are eternal, no blade could outlive or outshine you."

The Morrighan's gaze fell upon Aeden. "If you were bit a little older and a little bolder I should think you were flirting with me."

Aeden blushed and lowered his eyes once more, then, realizing where his own gaze rested, jerked his head back up, his shame redoubled. He was trying to speak but words would simply not come to him. Thankfully the Morrighan spoke again.

"Don't worry my champion; you are a bit young to be my consort. If you serve me well as my Champion, we might have to revisit this conversation another time, but not now" she told him with a smile and a flirtatious wink, before growing somber once again. "The truth is that even we are not eternal, and someday even we shall fade from memory. Others will take our place. The sword you now hold has the power to slay even a god if the wielder who commands its power has the will and integrity. For now you must continue upon your quest; help your friends to their own destiny then return to me. I will be watching you but I cannot interfere again."

Raising her arms high, the feather cloak shimmered, and where the Morrighan had just stood an enormous raven now flapped its wings. As the jet black bird flew away over the river Aeden raised his sword in salute.

Into the Hills

Aeden guided Faolan to where he thought Fianna might have landed. Faolan was finally beginning to recover some presence of mind and began to ask questions. Promising to answer him when they had found Fianna and rejoined the others, they spread out and combed the area looking into the dense undergrowth and climbing through the brambles with growing concern. Neither of them was certain what directions Fianna had given the others, so they didn't know how near or far they might be. It seemed that it had only been a few minutes since they had parted but the growing light in the east spoke of the hours that must have elapsed.

Aeden could not understand where the night had gone, but the growing light provided at least one answer to the questions that plagued them. They found Fianna in the fork of an enormous oak, and she was beginning to stir. Fianna was scraped and bruised and there was a huge knot on her forehead where she had clearly struck the great trunk. One eye was swollen and turning dark. She came to enough to begin asking questions. Faolan had climbed the tree to assist her in climbing down, but he had few answers to give her, and his memories at this point ended at nearly the same place as her own. He tied a rope around her and slowly lowered her down from the tree. Fianna's descent was painful as Faolan lowered her into Aeden's waiting arms.

As Faolan worked to crawl down from the tree, Aeden inspected her wounds. For the most part they seemed minor but she was breathing rather shallow and any attempt to breathe deeply was clearly painful. A broken rib could make travel extremely difficult, especially for any distance.

The rider's horse had to be somewhere nearby and once Faolan was back on the ground Aeden left him to tend to Fianna while he went to see if he could locate the animal. He was thinking that if only he could find the animal, and it was not too spooked to catch, it would make the journey ahead much easier for Fianna, when the animal stepped from a patch of brambles just ahead and trotted right up to him.

It was a regal beast, roan in color and of a breed Aeden was not familiar with. Of course, in Bretharc, there were two kinds of horses. The huge draft animals used to pull the plows and wagons in the potato fields and the little ponies that were used as pack animals by the pig farmers who were ranging hogs far from the village. Except for village children, these were never ridden being too small to carry an adult. The horse that walked up to Aeden that morning was easily twice that size but far more streamlined than the great plow horses. This was a horse bred for travelling. The beast had appeared high-strung and skittish with his former master, but now the tension was gone and while still spirited he seemed calm and gentle.

Aeden and Faolan were assisting Fianna into the saddle, largely against her stubborn will, when they heard a twig snap in the underbrush nearby. The boys were a flurry of motion as they drew their weapons and placed themselves between the source of the noise and their injured leader. A movement from the undergrowth drew their eye and to their relief they spotted a grinning Quinn smiling at them.

"I told you not to stop until you reached the Shannon" Fianna wheezed from the back of the horse.

"I am well aware of what you said, but you didn't calculate Riordan's hard-headedness into your orders. I couldn't carry him all the way down the Camlinn and he refused to go any further until we knew what had befallen the three of you" Quinn replied, his normal jovial nature unshaken by the difficulties that they had faced on the way.

It was afternoon by the time they all regrouped and made ready to continue. Teagan had treated Fianna whose wounds were mostly superficial. The ribs were another matter and Teagan had bound them as tight as she could, after discerning that three of them were cracked. It didn't help Fianna's temper much, but it was all anyone could do.

Aeden's story of what had occurred was met with some doubt, especially in light of the fact that Faolan had no memory of the events he described. In growing frustration at the doubts of his friends, Aeden had drawn out his sword, which showed no outward signs of its transformation. In aggravation at the doubts of his closest friends, he struck the nearest tree with the sword. No one was more surprised than Aeden himself when the blade sliced cleanly through the trunk, causing Riordan and Faolan to have to jump aside as the thirty foot birch came crashing the ground where they had been standing. That had ended any debate about Aeden's story, and any doubts his companions might have still harbored were kept to themselves.

When they set out Fianna rode in front with Aeden beside her. "Aeden, you do know about the Morrighan right?"

"Well, yes, we've all heard the tales of her since we were little" he replied, wondering where this was going.

"Yes, the children's stories, but she isn't exactly a kind and benevolent goddess Aeden" Fianna said, hoping he would see her point.

"She is a goddess of battle, not some hearth maiden or crone!" Aeden said, surprised by his own agitation.

"Exactly! How peaceful do you think life as her Champion will be?" she asked.

"You are alive; we all are, because she chose me. You would have me refuse her service?" he demanded.

"Aeden, I'm just concerned that you may have volunteered for more than you realize" she retorted clearly growing angry with his tone. Spurring the horse she shot ahead, leaving him to nurse his own anger.

Fianna was worried about Aeden, but she was more concerned with her charge to lead this small group to the druid isle. Only three of them were likely to be much use in a fight, and now she had to question the loyalties of one of that number. Her father had taught Fianna to hunt and to fight since she was very young. He'd served as a professional soldier before retiring to the quiet village of Bretharc because of an injury that forced him to give up his lifelong profession. He'd taken up farming which he admitted was every bit as difficult but speed and agility were not as important. The result of his teaching was the Fianna had been forced to grow up fast, separated from her peers by the imposed secrecy of her father's discipline. She had not been able to share with her peers, and the freedom they enjoyed had often angered her. She was often wrathful at the foolish antics of her own age group, but in truth some of her anger was born of jealousy.

Now the most impetuous and foolish of the small group that she was supposed to lead had pledged himself to the phantom queen. She had to admit that he had enjoyed some luck, perhaps enough to appear inspired if one didn't know him. Aeden was a child playing at being a warrior. He had no real training, no noteworthy skills and was unfit material to serve a goddess.

In the back of her mind were whispers that perhaps she was just being petulant which only served to make her the angrier. She was fuming at herself, at Aeden, at the Druids, and even at the gods as she rode along. In her state of mind is was fortunate that she was at least aware of the horse's movements for the first indications of trouble was the sudden twitching of the big roan's ears. He had heard something and that put Fianna on the alert. It didn't take but a moment for her hunter's instincts to identify the source of the horse's sudden movement. Across the river, movement caught her eye, and as they passed through a narrow opening she could see at least a dozen men, obviously foreign by their dress, walking in single file.

Quietly and without sudden motions, she turned the big roan away from the river and walked him several yards to where the bank dropped away to form an old dried up oxbow lake before turning to warn the others. A few minutes later they were all gathered in the shelter of the oxbow discussing their next step. Aeden suggested that they cross into the hills and make their way to the Shannon without following the river.

"Aeden, every hunter knows that you don't leave the water in unfamiliar country" Fianna argued.

"I understand the danger in that, but so will our pursuers Fianna, otherwise we would have lost them by now" Aeden countered. "You are our leader and I will follow whatever path you choose" he finished.

This surprised Fianna, she had expected him to argue more and perhaps refuse to follow her choice if she opposed him. She was thankful that he had not put her in that position.

"The danger is in not being able to find water, and those hills are known for being treacherous as well, but what we have to decide is which poses the greatest risk. Are the hills and the possible lack of water a greater danger to us than the men that we know hunt us? I don't like leaving the water but Aeden makes a good point. We need to carry all the water that we can and make for the hills, which will provide us with cover if nothing else. Perhaps at the least we can slow our pursuers down" she announced, unsure of her decision but doing her best not to let it show.

There were no objections, so in minutes they were all gathering their things and redistributing the loads they carried. The horse was a great benefit, being able to carry Fianna and a considerable weight of supplies as well. Fianna hated feeling like an invalid; they would make much better time if she could walk and put Teagan on the horse. The girl had proven her worth as a healer but trekking across country was far more taxing than anything she was used to. If not for the childlike infatuation that she obviously held for Aeden, Fianna was convinced that Teagan would already have bolted for home no matter the risks. Sadly, Aeden didn't seem to even be aware of the girl, but Teagan had been sullen ever since Aeden had described his encounter with the Morrighan. Being jealous of a goddess, particularly one known for her love of conflict was not a good idea.

By noon they were on their way through the timber, if the forest in this region ran all the way to the hills they would be easily into the highlands by the time they made camp, If not the trip might take considerably longer as both Fianna and Aeden agreed that crossing the open in daylight would be too great a risk. As she rode, Fianna spent the afternoon crafting for herself a new bow. Her arrows were somehow spared in her fall but one limb of her bow had cracked when she had fallen on it and she could not bear the thought of only being armed with her hunting knife. Not for the first time she wished they had all been better armed on this expedition.

It was late afternoon when Fianna called a halt. The trees had thinned until now there were only a few oaks scattered here and there and though they could see the grassy slopes of the hills ahead there was still over a mile of bare grassland separating them from cover.

It was tempting to make a run for the hills, putting as many miles between them and any pursuit as was possible before the sun faded from the sky. On the other hand, the forest had kept them from sight and though the grasslands bordering the highlands was not very wide, they would be exposed to prying eyes for a league in either direction on the featureless and flat plain that separated the hills from the forest. Reluctantly they agreed to wait at the forests edge until night fall and make for the hills by the dim light of the waning moon.

Aeden watched as the rest of them rolled themselves into blankets and tried to sleep. Faolan was weary but holding up. Quinn seemed to be thriving, which Aeden found surprising. Fianna moved stiffly with her broken ribs, but he was beginning to realize that he had completely misjudged her; she was tough and capable, and she was no harder on anyone than herself. As he watched her gingerly move to watch on the opposite side of the makeshift camp two things came to his attention. First, he realized that what he'd taken as petulant snobbery was perhaps her justified derision at the often silly actions of himself and his friends. He didn't understand what had made her so different from the rest of those their age, but Fianna was the best of them at keeping her head and the druids had chosen wisely in making her their leader. The second thing he noticed was that she was rather cute, and that flustered him far more than accepting that she was more mature and a better leader. Riordan and Teagan were the two that worried him the most. They were already exhausted and the road ahead was not likely to get much easier. Both had virtually collapsed into sleep the moment they had stopped, and were now lying motionless in the hard ground. They needed a good rest and soon.

Despite his own injury Aeden felt pretty good, and thinking of it he realized he hadn't felt the pain of the cut all day. Lifting his shirt he pulled back the bandage and was astonished to see the wound had knitted together already leaving only a pale scar where the knife had sliced him open the day before. Either Teagan or Finnis were more talented healers than he had ever met or heard of, or his encounter with the Morrighan had done more than merely enchant his sword.

Fianna had made it clear that she felt him a fool to accept the goddess's proposal, and perhaps he was. A part of him rejoiced at being chosen by such a powerful being, but he knew that the gods were fickle and that he had most likely shortened his own life in the bargain. What Fianna didn't seem to understand was his sense of obligation for the Morrighan's intervention which he was certain had saved them all. As the others settled in to sleep for the few hours' rest that they might get before nightfall, Aeden quietly crossed the camp to sit beside Fianna. Since he had noticed her attractiveness he found himself suddenly self-conscious about talking to her, but his guilt at misjudging her made him desire to apologize for his earlier behavior.

"Fianna I just want to tell you...well, I just wanted to say that you are doing a great job, and I understand now why you were chosen to lead us" Aeden stammered as he eased himself down beside her on the fallen log she had chosen as her post.

Fianna stared at him without speaking for so long he was beginning to wonder if he had somehow offended her. Finally she said "you are not the only one who was too quick to judge" she said.

Neither one spoke for several minutes, each considering the others words. Finally it was Fianna who broke the silence. "I am worried about Teagan and Riordan. I'm afraid Riordan is bearing the weight of responsibility for our situation, and Teagan is going to get tired of you ignoring her and then she will do something foolish."

"Why would her foolishness have anything to do with me?" Aeden asked, confused.

"You really have no idea?" Fianna asked, incredulous that he was that blind.

"No, I've got enough responsibility seeing to Riordan's safety and now serving the Morrighan; whatever that means. Why am I responsible for Teagan as well?" Aeden wanted to know.

Fianna couldn't hold back the giggle that escaped her then. "Teagan has been swooning over you for as long as I can remember. If not for you I am sure she'd have already run off home putting us in even greater peril."

Aeden had often noticed that Teagan was beautiful, all the boys did. He had often overheard boys talk about how Teagan would have all kinds of options after her Nameday, and while he had no doubts about their meaning he really hadn't given much thought to girls in that regard. The idea that Teagan might desire him made him feel oddly excited and more than a little bit embarrassed.

Fianna watched the flush creep across his face, and it was all she could manage not to tease him. Obviously he had truly never recognized Teagan's infatuation, and now that she had pointed it out his discomfort said more than words that he was now curious. Fianna didn't understand why that upset her but it did and once again they sat facing the plains ahead lost in their own thoughts.

It was almost dark when Aeden shook Fianna, who had dozed off. "We need to wake the others and prepare to move" he said. She had fallen asleep on watch and though she was upset with herself, her ire spilled over onto Aeden.

"Why didn't you wake me sooner? We should already be moving!" she said angrily.

Aeden looked at her for a minute and then turned without answering and went to wake the others. Aeden was confused by her reaction. He should have been exhausted himself but though he had hardly rested since the beginning of this journey he felt strangely energetic. Fianna had leaned against him on the log with almost imperceptible slowness, and it had been some moments before he realized she had gone to sleep. It hardly seemed useful for both to keep watch, so he had let her rest while he watched the plain.

It took only minutes to rouse the others and make ready for the hike across the plain. As he woke Teagan, he extended his hand helping her to her feet and steadying her with his free hand upon her shoulder. Though clearly still exhausted she flashed him a dazzling smile before bending to retrieve her pack. He was convinced then that perhaps Fianna might well have a point about her.

As they began the dreary march Fianna rode close, and with a bitter expression on her face she leaned down to whisper "nice work lover boy" before riding ahead.

Aeden didn't understand why but those words irritated him more than any other thing Fianna had ever done or said. He didn't have long to brood however, as no more than a few hundred long strides out onto the open plain they heard the hooves of galloping horses pounding toward them from out of the woods.

Whirling around Aeden saw three horsemen breaking from the woods. They had been spotted, that was certain. The riders were far better equipped than the would-be assassins in Bretharc and Aeden knew he and his companions were at a serious disadvantage. Gathering Teagan and Riordan behind him with Faolan and Quinn on either flank, Aeden drew his sword. The engraved blade was aglow like soft moonlight in the darkness.

The closest of the three riders was only yards away when he pitched sideways out of his saddle, crashing to the earth with an arrow piercing his shoulder. As he fell his mount bolted in the opposite direction. The remaining riders' charge was disrupted as they swerved aside, one to avoid the startled horse and the other to avoid his own horse trampling his fallen comrade.

With a speed and certainty of movement that seemed to come from beyond him, Aeden sprang over the fallen man and struck at the careening rider in a sweeping arc aiming for the man's midsection. As the glowing blade completed its arc, Aeden was dumbstruck; how could he have missed? The blade had not even slowed, not had he felt any resistance. Having expected the drag of his blade through its target to slow him, he had swung harder than he could control, and the weight of his blade added too much to his own momentum and he lost his balance, hurling him to the ground.

Even as he fell Aeden was twisting. His leap had left his friends exposed and failing to strike down the horseman he had afforded his enemy the chance to claim the lives of one or more of his friends. As he rolled onto his back, struggling to rise, the rider was making a strangely sickening noise and appeared to be sliding from the saddle in a most peculiar fashion. In the growing darkness it took Aeden a moment to realize that what he witnessed was the man's torso falling away from his lower extremities. Aeden had cleaved him completely in two with the blade. He looked at his sword incredulously and the first thing he noticed was that it appeared to have become longer and thinner.

In the chaos of the attack Aeden had lost sight of the remaining rider but Fianna was shouting from his left. With her broken ribs, riding fast was too painful to manage and the last rider was quickly outdistancing her. Aeden understood that if the man escaped it would mean that in hours, perhaps less, their enemies would be upon them in mass, and any hope of their ruse working would be lost. Whistling a tune he'd learned working with the ponies he calmed himself and willed the horse whose rider he had killed to come to him. He had hoped to calm the horse enough to approach it before the rider was too far away for him to catch, but evidently the beast was well trained and turning, came straight to him at the sound of his whistle. Aeden didn't have time to appreciate his good fortune, so he pushed the former rider's lower half from the simple saddle and then vaulted into the bloody saddle himself. He couldn't think of anything besides stopping the fleeing horsemen and in an instant he was racing back across the plain toward the fleeing rider. The last thing he heard as he rode away from his friends was the sound of one of them retching.

With almost no encouragement the powerful horse sped away and it seemed to only take a few strides to pass Fianna and the big roan. "I will deal with him, get back to the others!" he shouted as he raced away into the gloom. He was gaining on the rider, but if he didn't catch him very soon he would have to slow the gallant steed or risk a fall on the uneven ground.

He was perhaps three lengths behind the rider when the man turned, noticing his pursuit for the first time, and realizing he was not making good on his escape. Veering toward the line of trees he ran his horse toward the inky blackness of the forest, perhaps thinking his pursuer would not risk such a foolhardy chase. Clearly he did not know who was pursuing him. Aeden had but a moment to decide, ultimately guiding his horse to pursue the man wherever he might go.

Aeden drew in the reins, bringing his horse to a stuttering halt at the very edge of the woods. It was madness to ride into the utter blackness of the forest at a gallop. He was confused; why would the man risk his life in such an insane venture? Before he had time to contemplate the reasons for his opponents madness he realized that he had no trouble seeing into the normally dark forest, and looking up he saw that the sword he still carried overhead was glowing brightly giving the forest around him a glow that was sufficient for him to see well into the cover of the trees; the sword shown with a soft white fire that glowed like a full moon in his hand.

He might have spent untold minutes starring at the phantom light of the sword were it not for the sound of a branch snapping and the grunt of the man struck hard by the force of his own foolish choice. Aeden listened for a few seconds. He could still hear the gentle clap of the horse's hooves as it sauntered around just inside the forest, but no sound came from the rider.

Holding the sword before him like a torch, Aeden urged his mount into the forest at a walk. He had gone only a few yards when his adversary's horse trotted out of the gloom, seeking the comfort of being near one of its own kind. Checking carefully around him he took the horses reins and then dismounted, tying both of the horses to a low hanging limb before moving forward in the direction the horse had come from. Only a few yards ahead he came upon the man lying on his back. The man was bent in a grotesque angle. His face was virtually unrecognizable as such, and the cause was blatantly apparent. A freshly shattered limb, as big as Aeden's upper arm, lay across the broken body.

The scene was unsettling, especially by the light of the glowing blade, but the past couple of days had changed Aeden. He quickly searched the body, finding a small sack of gold and silver coins hidden in the man's tunic. The man had been no more than a hand taller than Aeden, so Aeden stripped the leather jerkin from the body as well as the greaves, putting them on. He gathered the man's long sword and the dirk that he carried. The dead man no longer had need of these weapons, but his friends did.

Returning to the horses was more difficult, for the light given off by the sword was rapidly diminishing. By the time he mounted his horse again the light was all but gone. Turning the horse back across the plains he held it to a slow walk as he kept low in the saddle letting the stallion chose his way out of the forest. Though Aeden held the reins, the final rider's horse followed without hesitation, and soon Aeden began to see the darkness of the dense forest give way to the moonlit expanse of the plain. As they cleared the trees, Aeden urged his horse to a trot, and watched the grasslands sweep by them as he rode.

He almost passed by the place where he had left his friends, and in fact he would have, had not the horse he led not shied away from the body of the man he had cut in half. Reining in the horses, he looked all around for his companions, but they were nowhere to be found. As he scanned about he noticed that the bodies had been stripped of armor and weapons. The man that Fianna had shot had the broken shaft of a second arrow protruding from the socket of what had once been his left eye. Apparently Fianna had finished what the first shaft and subsequent fall had not. There was no sign of his companions as far as he could see upon the plain now, but the hills loomed close and he had to assume that they had continued on expecting him to follow if he could. Riding as fast as he dared, in the moonlight Aeden set off after his friends. He'd been gone a half hour at most, so they couldn't have gone too far. At best they had two horses, and must have moved quickly to get out of sight of the open plain. Catching them should be simple on horseback.

In no time at all he was rounding the first of the low foothills. It was the best place for them to enter into the highlands; for once around it they could travel the valleys between the hills to remain hidden from sight. He was just rounding the bend under a rocky promontory when two figures stepped out into his path from behind a stone. Reining in sharply he reached for his sword reflexively. Before his hand could reach the pommel he heard the twang of a bow and saw the shaft of an arrow flicker past mere inches from his face.

"Halt where you are!" a familiar voice called out.

Aeden was relieved to have found his friends. "It's me, Aeden" he replied. As his eyes adjusted to the deeper gloom under the shadow of the rocks he could see the two that blocked his path lower their weapons. He assumed that they must be Faolan and Quinn since Fianna must be on the rocks above with her bow. Looking up he located her with intention of joking that he was glad her aim had not improved, but when he noticed her bow still fully drawn and still aimed at his head he changed his tactic.

"Fianna, it's me, Aeden. Would you please put that away now?" he asked.

"I don't know, are you really Aeden of Bretharc or the Morrighan's lackey?" she responded in a cold voice.

Before he could respond to her Riordan and Teagan appeared from behind the rocks. "Put down the bow Fianna, Aeden is no one's puppet" Riordan said quietly. To Aeden he said "you gave her quite a scare with that enchanted blade glowing with faerie fire Aeden."

Fianna lowered the bow slowly, almost reluctantly as Riordan boldly strode forward toward Aeden. When he had ridden past her shouting like some banshee while that gleaming blade flamed with its eerie fire had brought all of her doubts and fears to the forefront of her thoughts. Could he be trusted, or had the Morrighan's claim upon him changed him too much?

Aeden dismounted, ignoring her and began regaling his friends with the story of how he had dispatched his adversary without striking a blow. Fianna remembered all too well how they had all stood, frozen with shock and fear as Aeden had transformed into a true champion of the Morrighan. Their fear had mirrored her own, but now they laughed and joked as though nothing extraordinary had occurred.

Finally accepting that regardless of her fears Aeden would remain a part of the group she climbed down from her perch and went to gather their horses. At least with four beasts they had a much better chance of making it through the hills to the Shannon. They were far better equipped now to face the enemy; that much was certain.

The night was still young as they mounted up. Aeden kept the big stallion he had used to chase down the soldier and Faolan mounted up on the mare he had brought back with him. Fianna kept her Roan, while Quinn and Riordan both climbed onto the horse that she had caught running wild on the plain. The logical place for Teagan was with Aeden on the big stud horse, but still she found herself irrationally angry when Teagan coyly said "oh, I will ride with Aeden."

Aeden reached down a hand to help Teagan into the saddle, pulling her up to sit in front of him with such ease that it surprised him. He was beginning to wonder if some of the legends surrounding those touched in some way by the gods were not true after all. Perhaps he was attaining strength just from the choosing.

As Teagan settled into position, pressing her warm body back against him and wrapping his arm about her waist, he forgot all else. He didn't even notice Fianna's derisive snort or his friend's giggles. Teagan's warmth suffused through him and he found himself thinking of her warm softness in ways he had not before imagined. He only hoped she didn't notice the outward expression of his thoughts.

They rode slowly through the hills in the inky black night left as the moon set, relying only on the stars to guide and the sure footing of their mounts to keep them safe. They rode in silence for the most part. Each of them was too tired now to keep up the usual banter and each was soon lost in his or her own thoughts.

The Coming Storm

Once they were deep enough into the hills they made camp for a full day at the first spring they came upon. The journey so far had wearied each of them in ways they could not have understood before, and though the rest afforded them a chance to recover their strength the troubles of their rode continued to weigh heavily as they set out on the second morning in the highlands.

Fianna estimated that it would take them a week to cross the highlands if they didn't encounter more interference, but how likely was that? It seemed as if it had been weeks, since this had all begun, but in truth it had only been four days. That Finnis had suggested that this journey would prepare her for her destiny was disheartening; if this was merely preparation she wasn't sure she wanted to meet her destiny! At least for the moment they seemed to have evaded pursuit.

Aeden watched the northern sky with growing anxiety. From the look of the mounting thunderstorms, their most recent concerns were about to become trivial. For the past three days they had ridden through the empty highlands; the only signs of life the occasional bird or beast that fled before them. They knew that there had to be water somewhere nearby to support the wildlife that they had seen, but as yet they had not come upon so much as a puddle. The water that they carried had run out the night before. Neither they nor their mounts would make it out of these hills unless they found water soon.

That morning they had divided into two groups. Aeden, with Riordan and Teagan had ridden up the ridge to the north, while Fianna had taken Faolan and Quinn along the southern ridge. The had hoped that from the high ground each group could scan the valleys on either side of the one they traveled for signs of a river or stream that could provide them the life sustaining water they needed. There had to be water somewhere. They would regroup at the southern end of the valley near the high mountain that they had used as a guide for the past several days.

The storm that was building was getting closer by the minute and it would be upon them long before the rendezvous. The choice that Aeden faced now was whether to attempt to outrun the storm to the south ridge in an effort to warn the others or to seek shelter while there was still time. The ridge on which they now rode would be blocking Fianna's view to the north, such that she would have only minutes of warning as the storm swept down upon them. Of course, they might have no more warning even if he could find them quickly.

The storm was coming fast, and Aeden despaired of the choice he had to make and make quickly, but it was clear that his primary responsibility was Riordan's safety. Taking them off the southern side of the ridge they galloped down the valley, watchful for anything that might provide even a little cover against the natural fury that pursued them. Though the highlands were open and visibility was great, the broken rocky ground made riding swiftly hazardous at best, so when they passed over a worn trail leading down toward the head of the valley they took it without wondering how it came to be here. As their horses thundered down the trail Aeden scanned for anything that might give them shelter. The barren landscape that had seemed such an advantage against pursuit didn't seem so advantageous now.

They were perhaps half way to the rendezvous when the fast moving storm broke over the ridge. In moments the gray dismal day turned to inky blackness like the darkest night and they were wreathed in torrential rain wrapped in wildly gusting winds. The visibility was reduced to almost nothing but still they raced ahead. One thing about trails, which Aeden knew well, was that they always led somewhere. A part of him realized that wherever this trail led might not be anywhere that they wanted to go, but he had to take that chance.

Flashes of blinding white light began to rip through the veil of wind and rain, some of the bolts striking so close that their hair danced wildly in the static. Aeden was nearly at his wits end when suddenly lights just in front of him caused him to reign in sharply. The lights appeared to be torches, and they fought back the darkness to light a gaping hole in the mountainside. Holding the torches were two men, and though their recent experiences suggested caution, they had no choice but to take whatever shelter was available.

The cave mouth was plenty high enough for them to walk their horses inside. The two men, whose eyes reflected the torchlight such that it seemed to be born of them rather than reflected by them, turned to face them but made no move toward Aeden. Finally it was Riordan who spoke. "We humbly request to take shelter within your abode."

The two looked from Aeden and Teagan to Riordan and back before turning to one another. "I do not believe these are giants brother; you said we might see giants if we snuck out this evening. Now father will be furious" said the first.

"Well how was I to know there would be others out to see the spectacle?" replied the other.

Aeden hopped from behind Teagan, landing between the two horses that were strangely calm considering the circumstances. "My friend has formally asked if you would shelter us within your home, and I would further ask for any assistance that you could provide in helping us find our other friends who are still out there. What is your answer?"

The two men, if indeed they were men, suddenly looked at him as though for the first time realizing anyone had spoken. After staring at him for an extended period without uttering a sound, they began to look once more at one another.

"Will you not answer my plea? It is the duty of all good men to offer hospitality at need" Aeden said growing angrier with each passing moment.

A strange voice behind him spoke, making Aeden start. "These, my sons, are hardly men, nor are they the lords of this home."

In the time it took to speak these words Aeden had spun to face the new arrival, sword in hand, and what he saw filled him with dread. A slender female figure was draped over the bearded man's shoulder and two more bodies were tied to the saddles of the two horses that he led.

Bringing up his blade, Aeden growled "what have you done to our friends?"

"Peace Champion, I have done as you asked and rescued them from their own folly. Put away your weapon and let us get somewhere warm and dry."

Something about the man's voice reminded Aeden of the Morrighan and the memories of the stories he had grown up with concerning the gods and goddesses came flooding back and he knew what this place was. Swiftly sheathing his blade he bowed low. "Pardon me lord, I knew you not for one of the Sidhe."

"Welcome to my humble land" the Sidhe lord said bowing in return with just a trace of a smile upon his lips.

Aeden moved to aid the lord of the fair folk with his friends, never noticing the startled look upon Riordan's face. In moments one of the sons was leading the horses down a side tunnel that Aeden had not even noticed before, while the other brought out a litter of unusual size and placed three unconscious companions upon it. In an amazing display of strength the slender young man singlehandedly hoisted the poles and drug the litter down the main corridor.

"My lord, will our friends be well?" Aeden inquired.

"I gave them a sleeping draught Aeden. They were cold, wet, and confused by the time I found them, and no more trusting of me when I found them than you were at first. When I took out my flask and had a drink before offering them all a swallow, they had no way to know that the elixir would have no effect on one such as me" he said, laughing in such deep rich tones that Aeden and even Teagan couldn't help but join in his mirth.

Aeden turned to glance at Riordan, who hadn't made a sound since asking the brothers for hospitality, but was distracted as he noticed the cave mouth closing up behind them as though it never existed. Noticing his wide-eyed expression the others turned as well.

"Aeden?" Teagan's tremulous voice questioned.

"It's ok Teagan, the houses of the Sidhe have long been hidden from all but a few mortals, now you understand why this is so" Aeden responded, taking her arm in his own to comfort her fears.

Riordan turned and looked at Aeden, making a face at him that Aeden knew meant that his friend was not in complete agreement on the matter. Aeden shot him an inquiring look, but Riordan just shook his head.

"Young Riordan is worried that you don't know who I am" their host said. "He is concerned that you don't realize that I am Ogma, brother to the king of the gods, and in essence your family, Champion."

Riordan stepped back, worry lines etched across his face. "I do not wish to offend but sometimes we mortals are ill equipped to understand the gods and their actions" he said.

"Young man, you are not ill equipped to understand much of anything. Let us not mince words; you do not trust the gods, and in this you are wise" Ogma said. "As it happens, my brother sent me to find you, and you are perfectly safe in my domain. You may leave at any time, though I would strongly suggest waiting out this storm."

Aeden didn't really know what to say but was familiar with Ogma from the stories he had heard. He had now met two of the most powerful beings to ever exist, and both had been more than kind to him. They didn't seem at all like the beings in those precautionary tales that his people always told their children. He understood why Riordan was concerned, and no doubt Fianna would be furious when she awoke, but the great and wise Ogma had called him family. Accepting the mantle of Morrighan's Champion had saved their lives twice now, surely she could see that.

Aeden's sense of direction, distance, and the passage of time were all confused. When they suddenly walked into a huge dining hall that Aeden was certain had not been there only a few steps before, he was surprised to find Fianna, Faolan, and Quinn not only awake and seated at the big table, but boisterously engaged in feasting with Ogma's sons who he now could see were twins.

"There you are!" Fianna shouted, jumping up and hugging each of them in turn. Aeden was taken aback by her uncharacteristic behavior. Faolan and Quinn were equally jolly but for them that was a behavior that did not seem so unusual.

"I think perhaps you need to fill the cups next" Ogma said to one of his sons while giving the other a stern look. "Full to the brim, for knowledge without wisdom does a fool make."

The meaning of his words was lost on Aeden and his companions. Ogma, seeing the confusion on the faces of those he had already spoken with, looked to the son he had just chastised. "Perhaps these three should have a sip of your brew as well, though just a snifter, and then see that each has a full mug of your brother's tonic after."

The sheepish looking brother splashed some amber colored liquid from a flask at his hip into three small cups and handed them to the new arrivals, while his twin went to the large cauldron near the hearth and lifting mugs from a nearby shelf began filling them with a thick brown liquid.

"Drink up" encouraged the first of the twins motioning toward the small cups they held. Though he was unsure, Aeden knew that it would be unwise to refuse their host and risk giving offense. The drink burned like liquid fire all the way down, filling his belly with a sense of warmth that permeated both body and mind. It was all he could do not to choke as the vapors from the fluid burned his nose and throat. From the gasping sounds coming from Riordan and Teagan they were having an equally difficult time swallowing the stuff.

Aeden welcomed the mug that Ogma placed in his hands a few moments later. He didn't recognize this drink either but surely it wouldn't be as harsh. To his surprise it was sweet like honey but not overpowering. When Ogma turned to take more mugs from the twin who had filled them, the other twin quickly poured another splash of the amber fluid into his mug. Trying not to grimace he took another sip and was very surprised that the two combined into a lovely taste.

Once everyone had their mugs Ogma invited them to the table, and where only moments before it had been bare, it was now laden with a feast unlike anything these sons and daughters of simple farmers had ever seen. Dozens of dishes in polished silver trays and bowls littered the table. Where before they had been reluctant, now they dove in without reservation, eating their fill and more as the god and his sons regaled them with stories of legend and fancy.

None of them could later say how long that dinner lasted, and if ever it came up inevitably they would argue the issue. What they could agree upon was that by the time the last of them set back from seemingly unending feast the trials and troubles that they had carried since leaving home had fallen away, leaving them at peace for the first time since their Nameday.

As the meal ended, Ogma suggested that Aeden, Fianna, and Faolan might enjoy some sport with his sons while he showed the rest his library. Aeden looked to Fianna for her opinion but though she was a lot less giddy than when they first entered the hall, she was still very much more relaxed than she had ever seemed to be. Aeden thought that perhaps he should voice some objection, leaving Riordan with the god seemed in some way to violate his vow to watch over him. On the other hand, if Ogma meant Riordan any harm, what exactly could he do about it?

Following the twins down a hall shortly thereafter, Faolan and Fianna chatted and joked with their hosts. Aeden hung back; troubled without understanding why. He wasn't concerned about their hosts but something in this situation was tickling his mind. There was something about this situation that he was sure he should remember, but the harder he tried to think about it, the more elusive the thought became.

His ruminations ended when they suddenly turned into a cavernous room that turned out to be an armory. "Father said you are to select any equipment that you might need for yourselves" said one of the twins. The other pointed to an open door on the other side of the room.

"There is a practice yard beyond that door that you may use to try out your selections" he told them.

Aeden looked around at rack after rack of arms and armor that he imagined would be the envy of many kings of men. Aeden was amazed at it all and began wandering through the enormous place, admiring the staggering variety of items. When finally he found a buckler with virtually the same engraving as his sword he picked it up and carried it through the door to the practice yard. Faolan and Fianna were already there each working with one of the twins. Faolan was holding a pair of short swords and practicing a technique which involved a complex series of movements that ended with using one of the blades to parry an overhead attack while simultaneously thrusting with the other. Faolan was surprisingly swift and accurate with these blades.

Meanwhile, Fianna was using a very fine looking bow made of a wood so dark as to appear black which was banded in silver at the grips and staves. She was shooting with matching black arrows with silver fletching at a target at least eighty steps away and as far as Aeden could tell, not one of shafts were outside of the bullring which was the size of a man's fist.

Aeden had never been good with a bow so he joined Faolan. The pair were now sparring slowly; dancing around each other while their blades sang against one another.

"Mind if I have a go?" Aeden asked.

"Not with that blade cousin" the twin replied.

"Do you have a problem with my weapon, or the one I serve?" Aeden asked, irrational anger welling up within.

"I have an issue with dying" the twin remarked with a smirk. "Let me show you something."

Extending his hand silently he waited until Aeden reluctantly passed over the sword. Walking over to a large stone table he set the tip against the stone and pushed. Aeden and Faolan watched in wonder as the sword slid right through the stone like it was made of soft butter.

"I get the feeling this may not be the last time this sword will be buried in stone" the twin said thoughtfully. "Faolan, come pull this back out."

Faolan looked at Aeden, clearly in awe of his friend's magnificent weapon and strode over to take a firm grip on the pommel. Faolan was known as the strongest young man in Bretharc, often besting boys and men much older than him in feats of strength. Aeden watched as Faolan's muscles bunched with effort, struggling with all his might to loose the blade from the stone table to no avail.

Aeden was growing angry, feeling that the twin had somehow duped him into sacrificing the Morrighan's gift. "What have you done?" he asked venomously.

"Calmly there cousin, this is a lesson not a robbery. See for yourself" he said gesturing toward the sword. Aeden walked to the table stiffly, obviously not mollified. Clamping the handle of his sword firmly, he pulled, and the blade slid as freely from the stone as it might its own scabbard.

"See cousin, nothing to fear" the twin chimed.

"I am not your cousin" Aeden replied petulantly.

"Yes, actually you are, but if it bothers you I shall call you Aeden. Would you like another example of why no sane person would spar against you while you hold that blade?"

"I don't know" he replied, chagrined at his own ire, but unwilling to apologize for being so rash.

"It's a simple thing" the twin said, going over to one of the practice dummies and pushing the sword he carried pommel first into dummies wooden arm. "Take a swing at this."

Aeden shrugged and did as the twin suggested. It should not have surprised him when his enchanted weapon cleaved the other blade with the whine of shearing metal.

"Not so easy to block that blade as others" the twin remarked leaving Aeden and Faolan to marvel anew. "The weapon you just cut through like air was forged by my father. No ordinary weapon could even scratch it."

Aeden carefully inspected the blade of his sword and realized that it was as sharp as ever and had not a scratch upon it.

Einegen's Gifts

When the trio returned from the armory they found the remainder of their group in Ogma's massive library. Aeden had never known that so many books existed much less that any one place might have so many. From the looks on Fianna and Faolan's faces suggested that they hadn't either. All three of their companions sat around a low table reading from various tomes. Ogma was seated on a stool a few feet away whittling on a long stick in a bored fashion.

Ogma gave them a nod when they walked in but it took some time before the readers became aware of their return. Quinn was ecstatic, he seemed utterly convinced that Ogma's library was the grandest thing imaginable, and Aeden and Faolan were given the grand tour as their excited friend prattled on about the various sections of the library.

"Really, he had everything! There are books on flora, fauna, magic, and faraway lands. I could spend a lifetime in here!" Quinn informed them, more excited than either of them had ever seen him.

Faolan looked at his friend in mock disgust. "Seems a terrible waste of a lifetime to me" he said.

Ogma interjected, "you are both right, learning without living and living without learning are neither one a good use of one's years. Let us feast and we shall set you upon your path once again. The Sidhe realm is treacherous for mortals, even without the games the fair ones like to play."

It took some effort to convince Quinn to leave the great library, but soon all were making merry once again in Ogma's feast hall. Again the meal was surreal in abundance and variety. Though none of them had slept since the last feast, all felt as rested as though they spent days in feather beds. When the feasting ended, Ogma called them all together for a final farewell. "It is the tradition of the fair ones to impart gifts upon their guests before parting, and I would honor that tradition."

Calling them up one by one he gave each a gift. Teagan was first and to her a satchel which was decorated with the most intricate of designs which reminded Aeden of a snake in continuous motion, winding its way around and around the bag. "In this bag you will find the herbs you need for the healing of those in need. Use them wisely" Ogma told her as he handed her the bag.

Calling Fianna and Faolan up together he presented each with a corselet of chain. "Your future lies with these Druids. It will become apparent to the future of the order that your skills are needful. These rings were forged by my own kin, and will turn aside almost any blow while their weight is such that you will find them not a burden. "

As the two donned their new armor, they turned to face their friends, and Aeden could see that among the shiny silver ringlets were a number of bright golden links that formed a symbol like a three pointed star which curled at the tips like waves. Within the center were the three staves which formed the symbol of Druid knowledge. Faolan was beaming in appreciation at the fine gift, but the ever thoughtful Fianna wore a guarded expression as she joined the others.

Quinn went next and Ogma presented him with three tomes, each gilded in silver. The glittering letters upon the covers were in a language that Aeden had never seen before, but the awe and reverence with which he held the tomes told Aeden that Quinn understood the language and that at least in Quinn's eyes this was a mighty gift.

Aeden felt mild surprise when Riordan was called up next. So much had revolved around his friend that he had assumed that Ogma would give him the honor of going last. Ogma said nothing to Riordan, merely handing him a simple staff seemingly made of a gnarled tree branch. Atop its twisted length sat a stone which looked like a piece of green glass in the shape of an egg. Aeden thought that it was poor gift even compared to Quinn's books but the way that the color drained from Riordan's face and the sudden gasp from Quinn told Aeden that this gift had meaning that was both important and unwelcome.

Riordan hung his head as he turned, walking toward the others. Aeden thought his friend resembled an old man bearing the weight of a world upon his frail shoulders. No one spoke until he had resumed his place among his friends and protectors where Quinn put a supportive arm around his shoulders. Aeden knew that something was going on that he should know about but he was soon distracted when Ogma called him forward.

"What gift would I give my Nephew?" he said, again referring to Aeden as his own kin. Aeden had though this merely a courtesy, but the familiar term "nephew" made him wonder. He did not fully comprehend what status accepting the Morrighan's offer to become her champion entailed, but clearly it gave him some form of heightened status among the gods.

"I believe that I shall give you that which has always haunted you, yet has been denied to you all of your short life" Ogma continued.

Aeden stood his ground as the god extended his fingers, placing the tips upon Aeden's brow. As he made contact, a vision like a waking dream filled Aeden's mind. In the vision a woman, tall and eloquent, stood holding a child to her breast. Two men stood flanking her, one obviously a younger version of his father, the other looked like the old man who had led the hounds away from them at the river the night that the Morrighan had made him her champion. As the woman gently kissed his father placing the baby, that he now realized as himself as an infant, into her fathers' arms, the old man led her away. Tears streaked the woman's face and the old man appeared sad but determined.

As Ogma pulled his fingers back, Aeden grasped out wildly seeking to see more but the vision faded. "Was it really her?" he begged to know.

"Yes, that was exactly as it happened the last time your mother held you Aeden. I was there, and in all the long years I have reigned I've not seen a more touching site. She loved you and your father but her father would not allow that to be."

Indeed, Ogma had given him precisely what he wanted most without realizing it all these years. "What become of her?" he asked.

Ogma himself looked chagrined at the question. "That is not for me to say Aeden."

Before Aeden could respond, the twins came into the hall noisily. "I have their cold weather gear ready" said the first; "their horses are laden with provisions for their journey" said the other.

With more urgency than they had experienced since their arrival in the home of Ogma, they were escorted to an exit. It was high summer when they had entered but now a cold wind drove snow before the opening. The brisk air had everyone shivering until the twins handed out heavy winter cloaks which would protect them from the cold and moisture alike.

"One last thing before you go" Ogma said. "Things have changed since last you spoke with the druid council, as some of you are surely aware. Trust no one that you don't know. Riordan, it is time for you to step up and lead now, Fianna has her own work ahead."

Everyone was surprised at the notion of Riordan leading them, turned to look at him, standing alone with his back straight and his cloak billowing around him in the gusts. Though still young he looked the part of a druid now. More shocking than the words of Ogma or the realization, slow to come, that the entry had vanished leaving them alone on a hilltop in the weather was Riordan's tone when he spoke.

"If I'm not mistaken, and I can ill afford to be, just over this hill is Luinneach, and there we can find a warm inn to discover what has occurred in our absence and decide on an appropriate course of action" he told them. Mounting his horse more gracefully than any of them had before witnessed, he turned and began to ride without even looking to see if he was being followed.

Aeden and Fianna looked at one another in open mouthed shock. The petty rivalry between them was made mute if Riordan was to be their leader. Already they had doubts, Luinneach was near the mouth of the Shannon, weeks of travel from Ogma's cavernous home, but there was little they could do at the moment but follow. It occurred to both that to be his advisor's rather than leader or protector was to shed a burden never intended to remain upon their young shoulders for long.

In less than an hour they were lined up on a ridge looking down onto the largest town any of them had ever seen. Beyond the town they could see the loch which joined the sea somewhere beyond the horizon. Smoke rose from hundreds of chimneys and people bustled about in the town below in such a mundane pattern that it was possible for moment to forget that their lives had been turned upside down for weeks at the least.

Luinneach

The early nightfall of a midwinter day seemed to follow them down the mountain as they rode into the town. Luinneach was a lot like Bretharc, only a lot bigger. Over a thousand men, women, and children called it home and from the looks of things there were many a traveler passing though at any one time. Along the water front they found an inn that was well pleased to have customers, for in winter the ships that kept the port laden with people and goods were few and far between.

Aeden and Faolan were looking forward to exploring the town but Riordan spoiled their plans announcing that he wanted them all to meet and discuss where they were headed from here. In the end they struck a compromise. The girls would got to their room and clean up while the boys went and enjoyed a meal at the tavern across the roadway. When the meal was concluded they could switch, and everyone could be clean and well fed before they began trying to decide what to do next.

"My friends, I know some of you are skeptical, bit I know things of which you are not aware, and can guess a few more" Riordan began. "I'm sure you are aware that time for us has passed at a different rate while we were in Ogma's dwelling, but what you don't realize is that we stepped into the shelter of that dwelling two and a half years ago!"

The five companions he addressed reacted with a wild assortment of reactions ranging from silent surprise to outright denial.

"Friends, I know it's hard to accept, and what I am about to tell you may be harder still but I believe the goal of our journey is utterly changed. It is my belief that the druids have already lost the war they were trying to protect us from."

This prediction caught everyone's attention as Riordan moved on towards the cusp of his brief speech. "Ogma's comments about things changing were suggestive, but the strange looks we got in the tavern tell me that the people are no longer used to seeing traveling druids and suspect that already we are in growing danger."

As if he had planned it, there came a wrapping upon the door. The three young warriors were at the door with their weapons at the ready in the blink of an eye. Cautiously, Quinn opened the door and stepped back looking relieved. Finnis was at the door but he looked more than old now, he looked like a broken shell. His robes were tattered and his sunken eyes looked hollow. Were it not for the rasping breath that whispered from his lips in the cold night air they might well have thought that they faced the ghost of the man they once knew.

Finnis paused only a moment before slipping into the room and closing the door behind him. He slid the bar into place and turned to stare at each of them in turn. None of the group could imagine what could have made this powerful druid look so frighteningly out of sorts. His eyes looked into each of their own in turn searchingly, as though measuring them to see if indeed they were who they appeared to be. As his eyes searched Riordan's they suddenly grew wide with wonder.

"How?" he asked. A cryptic question for the others but Riordan seemed to understand what he was asking.

"Ogma" Riordan replied.

Finnis shook his head in wonder. "I can't explain now, but we must go" he announced, the urgency in his voice compelling. "I have much to tell and I know you do as well, but if we don't beat the soldiers to the harbor it is likely that we won't live to tell it."

Aeden didn't hesitate, gathering his gear and preparing to follow the old druid immediately. The others took a moment longer, but still they were prepared to move in under a minute, arms, armor, and gear all ready to go. Finnis watched them all in amused surprise. "It seems you haven't entirely wasted the years you've been gone" he said cracking a wry grin.

"Are you expecting more assassins?" Fianna asked, moving to the door and looking briefly through into the cold winter night.

"Young lady, those assassins you remember are now the kings own guard. Technically, I am required by law to hand you lot over to them, but then again, there is a price on my head too" Finnis replied.

"Let's assume, until we get somewhere safe that anyone we meet is the enemy" Aeden whispered to her, and she readily agreed with a quick nod of her head. Aeden glanced at Riordan, who made a gesture of readiness, and then slipped through the door with Fianna close behind.

The rest paused only briefly as Aeden and Fianna checked the street. As the group slipped into the night, there was a moment when Aeden wondered if Finnis had overstated the danger. That feeling was soon shattered as a gruff voice behind them barked out "halt where you are!"

Aeden's surprise at being discovered so quickly caused him to freeze for a split second, and that probably saved his life. Undoubtedly, their assailants were well prepared and at least somewhat forewarned about their abilities. The ball of fire that arched out of the darkness from the direction they had been moving was coming straight for his head when Aeden reflexively swung his sword in an arc to intercept it. Even as he did so he thought that it was a futile effort, but as the blade swept through the enchantment, it flickered and died in a puff of ash.

Aeden could hear the ring of steel behind him as Faolan clashed with at least one of their attackers, but he could not turn his attention or rush to his friend's aid, as three robed figures stepped from the darkness before him. Though they did not wear the antlered crown of the sorcerer that had assailed them at the river, Aeden felt certain that they were allies and powerful in their own right. Before Aeden could move to close the distance, a voice so familiar and yet strange rang out beside him.

"Bow to your rightful leader, cast off this evil from foreign lands, and throw yourselves upon my mercy and you shall be spared" Riordan shouted in a resonating voice that caused Aeden to chance a quick sidelong look at his lifelong friend standing tall to his right, his staff aglow with power that Aeden did not realize Riordan possessed. Aeden was struck by the inspiring sight of his friend, and his fears and doubts vanished.

Apparently, his commanding presence had less effect upon their adversaries. The leader of the trio moved his hands in an intricate pattern, and Aeden could feel the concentration of power from his dark magic building as the sorcerer prepared to assail his friend and he instinctively moved to protect the young druid, but Finnis was quicker.

The old man stood before Riordan, wreathed in Fairie Fire and defiant. He caught the fury of the dark spell and staggered under its onslaught. Aeden could feel the power at play between the two men through the connection with his sword. It was obvious that the old man was outmatched, but at the moment he was distracted by the nearest of the three robed figures as he began to surreptitiously gather energy for his own attack.

Leaping forward before the sorcerer could complete his spell, Aeden leapt forward, slicing the man's head from his shoulders as easily as he might slice the air itself. Even as he did he felt the thrill of excitement that had possessed him on the plains when he had slain one assassin and chased another to his doom. He turned to face the next assailant but in the time that it took to turn, the attack from this quarter ended in a gale of magical force that broke the enemies' bodies and minds.

Riordan knew that to lead he must have more than the High Druids staff; he had to demonstrate that he had the power to hold his divinely appointed office. It was one thing to have the God of Wisdom hand you a stick and tell you that you are destined to lead, it would be quite another to convince the mortal followers that it was true. Stepping around Finnis, he absorbed the energy of the dark druids attack and then slammed the iron shod tip of the staff to the ground. Using the staff as a conduit he drew from the Earth's own vast pool of power just the amount required and sent it exploding through their enemies, cracking bone and crushing spirit.

If they were allowed to survive, they would never again work the sort of powerful spells that made them so dangerous. Riordan meant for them to live as a warning to anyone who would turn his own against him in the future. He would use these two broken men to send a message to the twisted parodies of druids that the order remained and had access to power they could never hope to match. The message was simple really; "I live, and I am coming to reclaim my own."

Aeden barely took note of what Riordan had done, so lost was he in the blood lust that his sword fed like a wildfire. There were no enemies before them left to face, but the smell of blood and the ring of steel still filled the air to the rear and he ran to join the fight. No more than a dozen steps separated him from where Faolan and Fianna stood back to back fighting for their lives against at least a half-dozen soldiers. The carnage on the street around them was testament to their determination. Bodies littered the street; some with ugly gashes from Faolan's blades, still more sprouting the silver fletched shafts of arrows like some sick parody of a pin cushion.

Aeden could tell that both of his friends bore wounds of their own but continued to struggle against insurmountable odds. He passed Quinn, lying in the snow, a dark stain covering the front of his robe as Teagan cradled him in her arms. The sight of it fueled his rage until it was a white hot fury and his blood boiled until the desire to slay every last soldier in this town consumed him.

He broke upon the knot of attackers surrounding his valiantly struggling friends like a tempest; his assault so sudden and so furious that three of them lay dying before the remainder realized that a new threat had befallen them. Faolan and Fianna themselves shrank from his wrath and the soldiers that they had fought against turned to flee in terror.

He pursued them and their brethren down the street, the need to destroy them utterly filled him and his sword glowed so brilliantly as to seem a beacon in the dark night. Overtaking the fleeing soldiers just as they joined a company of reinforcements he began to slaughter them all in a frenzy that had long since crossed the border of sanity. Few among the soldiery of Luinneach even made attempt to defend themselves so terrible was his visage.

Two officers, mounted on horses were thrown to the cobbles as their mounts went wild in panic, and hurling off their riders, bolted up the street wild-eyed with madness. Only moments later the lopsided battle ended as Aeden cut down the last soldier who had slipped in the snow as he tried to flee the terrifying specter shrouded in white fire that pursued him.

Standing in the falling snow as his blood cooled and the light of his magic faded, Aeden realized that he had pursued his quarry over halfway across the town and right up to the doors of what must have been the garrison. Surely within were more of these soldiers, but none would show their faces, and despite the clamor of battle the town remained dark. As he began his long trek back to find his friends, Aeden was appalled at the gruesome path that he had created. Certainly these men had come to capture or kill himself and his friends, but long after they had reconsidered their foolish attempt, he had hunted them like rats and killed them brutally.

When he finally made it to the inn that had once seemed so hospitable, he found his friends had left. He wondered if they had left him, resolved not to accept the help of one so prone to violent rage. The bodies lay strewn everywhere, but the signs suggested that his friends had escaped and that they had continued on toward the harbor.

Swiftly following his friend's tracks through the new fallen snow he ignored the pair of tracks leading away from the sea, despite the burning urge to track down these escapees from his rage and dispatch them. The fact that his urge was so strong disturbed him far more than the carnage he left behind him. For the first time he understood why Fianna had been so distrusting of him after the battle on the plains. By comparison this was a slaughter and his first urge was to continue the blood bath.

A sudden whistle from ahead caught his attention and he stopped in his tracks. He didn't want to give Fianna an excuse to release the shaft he was certain must be aimed at his head. He was very surprised when Riordan stepped out alone to greet him. "Thank you for returning to us Aeden. I had feared you might not return in time to accompany us, and we need you" he said.

"Am I still welcome?" Aeden asked, wondering if his longtime friend could be trusted to answer for all.

"We need you. Finnis and I will rouse what remains of our order, and perhaps we can raise an army, but there is a power backing our adversaries that is not of these shores. If we face one of these foreign gods, we need a god on our side; otherwise we will be as leaves before the wind" Riordan replied.

Aeden shook his head in disgust. "The Morrighan won't intervene, she told me so herself; as it happens I'm surprised she hasn't come to claim me as her champion already."

"I don't speak of your grandmother Aeden" Riordan said giving his words ample time to register.

Aeden was confused by this comment from his friend, but as its meaning began to filter through the fog in his brain he couldn't accept what had been staring him in the face the whole time. "You must be daft!" he said even as in his heart he knew that Riordan was right. He was a descendant of the gods, and while he would have relished such news back in Bretharc, he knew enough now to tremble at the thought.

"It's true and you know it. I do not know which of the Dagda's daughters your mother is, but I have some suspicions based on the effect you have on animals. It matters very little for the time being, for now it is enough that the power of the gods is in your veins, and we can use that if you will help us" Riordan retorted.

"For so long as I am able, I will fight for your cause my friend, but should the madness take me, please do whatever it takes to protect our friends and allies, even if it means destroying me" Aeden said with resignation. Riordan's faith in him and the emotional turmoil of finally understanding the mystery of his mother washed over him, leaving him feeling suddenly very alone and incredibly grateful for Riordan's trust.

"Come Aeden, we have sad business to attend" Riordan said, extending his hand in welcome and comfort.

He knew that one of their number had not survived the battle then. "Quinn?" he asked, sorrow threatening to ignite the flame of his rage once again.

Riordan nodded a mournful expression upon his face. "We would have lost more if not for you intervention" he said, hoping to comfort his friend despite his own grief.

Quietly Aeden allowed Riordan to lead him to the ship which cast off lines and made sail as soon as they stepped aboard. The ship, a single mast long ship, was sufficient to manage coastal waters and the surrounding seas, but it would take a brave crew to take the ship beyond the sight of land in winter.

On the deck, Aeden saw his friends and companions huddled about the still form of Quinn. They had bandaged his wounds, and covered his injuries, but he had clearly been cut and pierced in multiple places. Fianna was arranging his body upon a piece of sailcloth, while Finnis and Teagan worked to tend to Faolan's injuries, which were many. From the pallor if his skin Aeden wondered if Faolan might not follow soon behind Quinn.

Fianna was still bleeding from numerous places herself but as far as Aeden could tell her wounds were comparatively minor; still, she bled and Aeden felt shamed that he had not one scratch upon his body to show for the battle he had fought. He knew it was irrational but still he felt as if he had not contributed enough, not done enough to prevent this tragedy which had befallen his friends.

Kneeling next to Fianna, he watched as she wiped clean the flecks of blood that had caught at the corners of his mouth. Aeden didn't understand why he had come to Fianna, but her presence eased his mind. His grief for his friends overwhelmed him for a moment and a single tear flowed unbidden down his cheek as he wished Quinn a safe journey into the next life.

"A human heart still beats within the breast of a god" Fianna whispered, taking his hand gently. Aeden looked up to find her watching him closely, realizing that he had been avoiding looking into her eyes. He had feared what he might find there, but what he saw was his own grief and worry mirrored within her brilliant green eyes.

A tremor ran through her, and whether from cold of night or loss of blood Aeden could not tell. Perhaps it was the last nervous release from the strain of the life and death battle. Aeden could not say but he quickly wrapped her in a wool blanket, pulling her into his embrace and warming her with his own body.

When Finnis and Teagan had done all they could for Faolan, and the herbs that Finnis had given him to help with the pain had lulled him into unconsciousness, he left Teagan to watch over him while he and Riordan moved to the bow of the ship, waiving Aeden and Fianna over to join them. Finnis poured each of them a small amount of liquid into a cup from a flask in his pouch. "Drink, it will help with both pain and cold, and after we have talked it will aid with sleep as well" he told them.

As he and Fianna downed the liquid he smiled. It was reminiscent of the drink they had first been served in his uncle's home beneath the hills. The peace that he had felt in that place came back to him for a moment and seemed to suffuse through him, warming him as it went. Finnis could see the relaxation sweeping over them and laughed.

"Many are the gifts of the gods; some more comforting than others" he said.

He began then to tell them about the time they had missed. Apparently Mellan had spent a good part of the following year after their disappearance putting down the group of druids that had attempted to usurp the office of High Druid and replace the council. While successful the brutality on both sides had cost the order greatly. Fortune seemed to smile on them to some extent when they took stock of the losses for most of those that had joined the usurper had been of the junior grades, and though a great number of talented lives had been lost, the solid core of druid wisdom remained. Not one of the members of the High Council had fallen.

They had spent that spring trying to assess what had driven the rebellion. It seemed that the Druid Council of Gaul, along with the High Druid of Gaul had turned in mass and began worshipping some as yet unidentified gods from another land. The High Council had sent several adepts to investigate. As midsummer approached, with no sign of the return of their investigators, it became apparent that more trouble was at hand, though they had no way to know how it would come about.

Before the first snows the blow that would shatter the order had fallen. A fleet of ships from Eire had descended upon the druid isle, and in a week bloody fighting, and despite horrible losses, the High King of Eire had broken the druid defenses, captured Mellan, and had him executed. The King had then razed the island, leaving a smoking ruin, and denounced the druids as traitors. He had made outlaws of every druid in Eire and systematically burned their groves, arresting every druid he could find.

Finnis himself had been away, visiting a grove in the highlands of Caledonia when word reached him of the calamity. He had spent his time since then gathering information and attempting to rescue druids who had gone into hiding to avoid the King's mad attempts to eradicate their kind. His hope had been to discover who or what was behind this continued assault upon the druids and the culture of the lands of the Gaels. Thus far, he had discovered that the High King of Eire had come into the possession of documents that suggested that the kings of Albion and Caledonia had been plotting with the druid High Council to overthrow him. The documents were forgeries of course, as a member of the council himself Finnis would have known about such a plot, and he'd personally visited the kings himself to be assured that neither had an interest in assaulting Eire.

The resulting war that had broken out between the three nations had inhibited his movements as well as the remaining members of his order. As the last remaining member of the High Council the leadership of the council fell to him, though he never felt it was his place to lead the druids. It was treacherous for him or his emissaries to travel to or from Eire, and in the end he had felt it necessary to assist the outlawed druids of Eire in person. He had spent the past few months trying to find and organize the few survivors of the High King's unjust purge.

"If I am to restore out order, I most make a pilgrimage to each of the groves and visit with the grove leaders, convincing them of my claim. Equally important, we must find who or what is responsible for this mania that is destroying our country. This is where I believe you will find your destiny" Riordan said looking at Aeden. "I must travel to Albion and Caledonia, and in truth we must also visit Gaul if we are to truly restore our order. I would ask of you, Aeden, to remain here and seek the answer to this puzzle. I would send you as well as Fianna for you may have need of a companion in the days ahead, and I can think of no one more suited."

Before Aeden could utter the denial on his lips Fianna spoke up. "I will go" was all that she said, but the force of her words struck all thought of naysaying her from his mind.

"Then it is settled, and I believe, for the best" interjected Finnis. "We can sail the northern route, and deposit the two of you as near to Ath Cliath as we can before we sail for Caledonia."

With their plans thus outlined, they separated and Aeden went to see Faolan. His closest friend since either of them could venture out from their homes was wounded grievously, potentially fatally, and Aeden felt responsible.

"How is he?" Aeden asked quietly of Teagan, when Faolan appeared to be sleeping.

"He is doing great, except for feeling like a bucket full of holes" Faolan said smiling, one eye cracking open.

"The silliness will pass with the herbs before morning, and with them gone he'll not be quite so smug, but he'll live as long as he follows my advice" Teagan said.

Though her words were spoken in a harsh tone, Aeden noticed that she never let go of Faolan's hand; holding it to her breast as though he might slip away if she let go.

"I'll be alright Aeden" Faolan said. "I've got the best healer in all the lands."

"Shush, you need to sleep" Teagan told him. "He really must rest" she told Aeden, dismissing him with a gesture that Aeden was compelled to obey.

"Rest well my friend" he said before moving to an open area on the deck that was out of the way of the sailors moving about manning their stations. Fianna joined him and for a while they sat quietly sharing their blankets and body heat against the cold night.

The sun peaking over the port rail awoke them. They gathered their possessions and took stock of their supplies in silence until finally Fianna spoke. "I think you have lost your shot with your little healer" she said winking at Aeden.

Aeden knew she was teasing him but he took the bait just the same. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Oh don't be a sore loser, while you were busy tangling with dark wizards, Faolan was saving our little healer's life, not once but twice. The second time he literally dove in front of an arrow that was aimed at her. You might be a god, but your friend is going to get the girl."

Aeden smiled. It wasn't so long ago that he would have been angry at her teasing. So angry in fact, that he would have said something stupid and fallen headlong into her verbal trap, but in his present state of mind he latched onto a way to turn the tables on her. "Oh, well Teagan is a pretty one, but if she has set her sights on my good friend so much the better. I prefer a girl who isn't so needy, and who is willing to tell me what she really thinks."

Fianna stepped back like she'd been slapped. She'd been so careful never to do or say anything to let him know that she had carried a torch for him for years now. She had watched him from afar, only approaching occasionally, and that only to vent her frustration at the all too typical juvenile behavior that he and his friends displayed. She knew that there was something special about him; she just hadn't known what it was until now. She had been jealous of the freedoms he and his friends had enjoyed, but almost everyone in Bretharc had enjoyed more freedom than she had. Her father had felt certain that she would need to be more than just well trained, and the loss of her youth had weighed heavily upon her. The look Fianna shot Aeden as she walked away to check on the others told him that for once he had gotten the upper hand on her in the jest, but at the same time it made him wonder if he had not overreached.

They buried Quinn at sea, committing his body to Mannanan. Quinn had been the one among them who had kept their spirits up when everything seemed to be falling apart, and his loss was deeply felt by all of them. Aeden had never lost anyone so close to him before, and was determined not to lose another.

Over the fortnight of their journey, Faolan regained his health slowly but steadily. By the final few days he was given leave, first by Finnis and then grudgingly by Teagan to engage in some light training with Fianna. The ship's crew, which Aeden was fairly certain were pirates by trade until Finnis had recruited them, had initially mocked him for training to fight under a woman's tutelage. That had ended as they watched the skill and finesse with which Fianna handled a blade. By the second day, several off duty sailors had asked to join them.

Aeden stayed back, knowing the questions that might arise about his weapon that might arise if he joined in, and simply watched Fianna instruct men who likely had far more combat experience in the use of sword, dagger, and bow. One sailor brought out a short seaman's axe at one point, asking her, "what about this?" Taking the axe she had swung it overhead, twirling it from hand to hand in mesmerizing patterns before suddenly launching it across the ship to lodge inches deep in the mast. He didn't yet understand how she had come by such skill, but there were clearly things about Fianna that he didn't know. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to.

At this point they were sailing the northeastern coast of Eire looking for a port with just enough market to resupply their provisions, and small enough to be overlooked by anyone watching the major ports. It had been decided that Aeden and Fianna would travel inland by horse, going out of their way to visit Bretharc just long enough to insure that all of the families were ok before moving on south to the capital. Finnis had opposed this plan but Riordan and Teagan had overridden him. She was training to be a druid now, and though the magic and divination seemed to present a challenge for her, but she was a gifted natural healer, and a surprisingly adept student of the histories.

They had finally settled on the port of Glenarm, and the remaining friends had gathered one last time to say their farewells. Riordan would take Teagan and Faolan on with him as they made the crossing to Caledonia, and then on to Albion. Aeden and Fianna would work from within Eire to free their homeland from the affliction that plagued her. They all made plans to celebrate their sure victory over the unknown enemy but each privately wondered if they would ever see one another again.

Homecoming

The first hints of spring were just beginning to show when Aeden and Fianna rode back across the ford where with a little help from the Dagda Mor they had eluded the hounds of the enemy. The waters had not yet risen from the spring thaw, but soon this tiny little river would become a raging torrent, and they would need to be back across it and on their way to the capital or else their journey would be delayed for weeks as they rode around to a safe crossing.

The villages and towns along the path had provided much of the information that they needed. The current state of their homeland was something neither of them cared to consider overlong. The north and much of the west had mobilized against the King, and war was brewing. The Lords of Eire were loyal but they had begun to realize that the High King was not serving them or the people, and rumors ran wild that he was serving something other than his own petty interests.

Monuments were being destroyed alongside the institutions that had been the hallmark of Eire and the replacement of the benevolent druids with these dark priests was a violation of the ancient traditions. That been the beginning, but soon lords who opposed such changes vocally began disappearing from within the walls of their own keeps or being charged with treason or some other ridiculous charge.

The final straw had had come when the King's army had marched on the Keel. Lord Achill had pronounced the King a traitor of Eire after the King's mysterious priests razed the grove on the hill beyond the wall. The King had responded by emptying his garrison at Newport to march on the Keel, along with every other garrison in the north.

It had been a bloody battle, with heavy casualties. The Keel itself was well fortified, and the sound worked like a natural moat. In the history of Eire, routinely fraught with war and strife, no army had ever breached the Keel. Lord Achill's neighbors did not fare so well, as the King's Army had taken out the King's wrath upon the neighboring baronies, burning and pillaging those closest to the Keel and impoverishing the remainder as food and supplies were commandeered to feed the army while it kept up a continuous assault against the wall and its defenders who refused to yield.

In the end it had been trickery and dark magic that had finally taken the wall. The King's entire northern army mobilized to destroy Lord Achill. The King intent upon making an example of this young upstart of a Lord had sent the whole of his northern army against the Keel with orders to slay everyone, men, women, and children, but that was not all. Even as the troops were making preparations to ford the sound, smoke and flame billowed on the horizon. The Keel was already burning. A ship bearing the dark sorcerers that had until that moment been little more than fanciful tales this far north had sailed into the harbor, sinking Achill's small fleet and assailing the Keel and Keep alike with enormous orbs of flame that were so enchanted as to cling to whatever they touched, be it stone, tree, or flesh. These horrendous flames burned with a ferocity unquenchable. Water seemed only to spread the magical flame, so the defense of the keep was forsaken, and the evacuation was begun instead.

Lord Achill had been at the sound preparing his troops to repel the King's Army when the assault began. In his stead Lady Achill had personally taken charge of the evacuation and rescue of their people. A flaming tapestry had fallen across her as she coaxed two frightened servant's children out of the unused fire place that they had taken refuge in. The children had been rescued unharmed, and Lady Achill had been carried from her burning home; alive but severely burned. She was alive, but the healers could not be certain that she would survive her injuries to live another day.

Lord Achill was a man of tradition and when the purge of the druids had come to his attention, he had not only hidden and protected those of his own local grove, but dozens of survivors from the destruction of the other groves in the north. No doubt it came as a shock to the crew of the attacking vessel when the sea rose up to swallow their vessel and the very planks from which the ship was constructed wrapped about them like irons, dragging the villains to a watery grave.

Protected against the King's unjust treatment for nearly two years by this lord of the north, the druid's of Eire knew that it was now their time to repay their host. The best healers in the group stayed to use their skills on the sick and injured, while the remaining adepts rode for the Keel at a gallop.

At the wall word had already reached the defenders of the cowardly assault upon the keep and it's casualties including the Lady of the Keel, whose very life now hung by a thread. Lord Achill was in conference with his commanders when Anrod, chief of the Grove of the Keel, arrived to offer his services along with those of his fellow druids. He was ushered into the conference just in time to hear his lord's proclamation.

"My Lady withstood the assault of dark sorcery, and gave life and limb to save our people. I will lead the battle from the front General, and if I fall I expect every man here to fight on until the last. May our ghosts rise up from this ground to spoil the sleep of any man who raises sword against the rightful men of the Keel!"

"Your Lady yet lives, and the best healers among the druids tend her even now, striving along with the powers of the land of her birth to keep her so" Anrod shouted to be heard over the throng of cheering commanders. "Our order strives never to become embroiled in the in politics or sovereignty matters accept as arbiters, one of our tradition functions. Our enemies have forced our hand, using the powers once reserved only for our order and the gods themselves against the people. These powers exist to help nurture the land and its people, not to be used as a weapon against them! You, Lord Achill, have done more to protect this land than we and today this grove pledges itself to your cause. I would ask to stand at your side as we go into battle!"

This unprecedented alliance between the men of the north and the druids was met with silence as those present all looked on knowing that they witnessed a thing that had not occurred since the founding of the druid order. None were foolish enough to think that the fifteen hundred men of the Keel could hold the neck of the sound and narrow bridge. The King's army would bring twelve thousand men to bear against their fortifications, and in the end the Keel would fall. Even with the assistance of the druids, few harbored any hope of withstanding the King's Army and immerging victorious, but with the druids help they felt more confident that their final battle would send a message down through the history of Eire that they would never stand for tyranny. They had no hope of winning this fight, but fight they would nonetheless.

No one doubted that the rains that struck the very day that the northern army was prepared to assail the sound were the result of the druid's efforts. For three days the rains fell in blinding sheets, making any attack upon the Keel impossible. Lightening flashed regularly from the blackened skies, invariably striking the hilltop on which the King's Army had chosen to place their encampment. On the morning of the third day the rains ceased, and as the sun came out and burned away the deep fog which had enshrouded the hill it was obvious that the King's Army had already suffered losses. At least a third of their number had disappeared into the fog, defecting rather than fight their own countrymen in a battle that was clearly not favored by the gods.

Eight thousand men, determined and ready to fight would still easily overwhelm the Keel's defenders, but it was a wholly dispirited army that assembled to advance across what was now a swampy bog adjoining the sound. The men of the Keel were emboldened by the very thing that had disheartened their enemy.

The battle of the sound, as it had come to be called, had ended without bloodshed. As the King's Army reached the base of the hill on which they had weathered the storm, they heard the horns of the defenders before them, and to their utter dismay those horns were answered by the blaring of horns from behind them. Another force had flanked them, and was now at their backs.

Lord Donegal, King of Connacht, had ridden forth from Donegal Castle in the wake of the King's Army. Sending word to all his Barons that no northern lord would stand alone against a mad king's aggression, he brought a thousand horse. He knew that his small force could not hope to break the King's Army lines, but he hoped that his impassioned plea would be answered by his countrymen.
When the rains set in, his cavalry camped in the lees of a hill less than a mile from the King's army. No new troops had yet joined his fast and mobile force, but as an old strategist, he knew that his force could hound and harry the larger army from the rear, preventing them from bringing their might to bear upon the defenders of the Keel.

As the heavy rains fell, Lord Donegal's ranks began to swell, but not from the hoped for reinforcements sent by the Barons. At first it was just a man here and there, but soon whole companies were abandoning their hilltop posts. Tales of men burned to ash by lightning and of strange shapes and signs in the fog were freely given by men convinced that the gods themselves opposed the High King's will in this. The King's Northern Army, comprised mostly of sons of the north, knew well enough the fate of any force which opposed the will of the gods. As these men were brought before Lord Donegal, they swore to uphold him, knowing him to be a man of character, and were pardoned. As these forces were added to his own, his ranks swelled until it became difficult to keep his force hidden.

As what remained of the King's Army descended from their camp doggedly preparing to follow their orders, Donegal using his own heavy horse as the center of his force, swept forward and just as the defiant notes of Lord Achill's horns sounded, he had his trumpeters answer. The advance of the King's Army stuttered to a ragged halt. Both the King's men and the defenders of the Keel watched the brow of the hill, wondering what sight their eyes might behold. A joyous cheer went up along the Keel as Lord Donegal, at the head of his thousand horse, rode over the crest of the hill, the rising sun at his back obscuring his numbers. The King's Army, under flag of truce, surrendered on the spot without a blow struck or arrow fired. Donegal was a legend in the north, and none of the commanders of the King's Army would oppose him; most chose to join him when amnesty was offered.

Aeden and Fianna had heard this story in every fold and cot as they passed through the northern countryside. One by one the Lords of the north and west of the country had joined the cause, committing their banners to serve under Lord Donegal's own, and now Eire was a country divided.

Many in the provinces yearned for the war, but both Aeden and Fianna already knew that a war would not be the grand adventure that many of the younger folk thought it would be. Half a century had passed since Eire had seen a war on the scale that this one threatened, and those few who still lived that had experienced that conflict had mostly been very young then.

They discussed it almost constantly, surprised at how much they agreed on the matter. Even though they had reached a consensus on the war, a solution that didn't end in tremendous amounts of bloodshed eluded them. When the King came north with his southern armies, he would not surrender. Both had come to accept that the violence that was about to break upon the good people of Eire could not be averted, and now they simply desired to complete their small part in it and try their best to protect and provide for their families.

"I'm telling you Aeden, the battle will be met here" Fianna said, not for the first time.

"You may be right, certainly the plain here would provide much that a large army would need, and plenty of room and cover for maneuvers" Aeden replied. "I'm just saying there are equally likely places where the fighting might occur."

Based on what they knew of the movements of both forces, Aeden had to admit that Fianna's reasoning was valid, but he just couldn't imagine anything so monumental occurring so near to Bretharc. The history of the region belied his personal experience, he knew, but having grown into his manhood here in the sleepy little farming community, dreaming all the while of the very sort of excitement that he now wished he could stop, it just didn't seem possible.

Aeden knew that given his lineage, a quiet and sedate life was not something he could hope to enjoy. The son of a goddess would be drawn to the worries of the world like a moth to flame, but he now understood how desirable the life of a simple farmer could be and would not have the people that he knew and loved suffer the pains that a war in their vicinity would inevitably bring.

The debate that wasn't a debate ended as it had time and again with both lost in their own thoughts, vainly wishing they could find an answer. They were on the edge of the hog fields when Aeden's senses began to warn him that something was amiss. He couldn't place what it was at first but it finally registered. The herds were roaming the fields as they always did, but there was not one single farmer in sight.

Pigs didn't require much tending, but this time of year they were usually left in the fallow potato fields rooting up the tubers that had escaped the prior summers harvest while the farmers mended fences or cleared new fields to provide for the growing herd. On the open plain someone should have been visible.

They had not intended to just stroll into town. It was highly unlikely that anyone could expect them to return here after so long, but they didn't want to take any chances. The sudden appearance of the pair after so long would inevitably lead to question and attention. Quinn's family in particular would be hard to face. Still something was going on in Bretharc, and they needed to proceed with a good deal of caution.

Aeden led Fianna back through the trees to where he and his friends had played for so many hours. They visited poor Liam's grave and were pleasantly surprised to find the site covered in a veritable blanket of snowdrops in full bloom upon the low mound that marked his final resting place. It warmed them both to think that the land he had protected so diligently now enfolded him within itself and grew such beauty to mark the spot. They stood silently for a time, paying their respects for the man who had given his life to preserve their own. Then, with spirits renewed, moved to the small shelter that had served as both refuge and recreation throughout Aeden's boyhood.

"We slip across the fields as soon as it is dark, and while you cover me from the big oak just at the edge of the village, I'll sneak in and talk to my father. He can gather yours and once we are certain no one else is about, you can join us" Aeden proffered as a simple plan.

"Why do you take the risk? I should go in and collect our fathers" Fianna countered.

"Sure, if you want me covering you with the bow" Aeden replied laughing softly. No matter how much he worked at it he just couldn't fire a bow with anything like reliable accuracy.

"Fine, but don't foul up the plan by tripping all over yourself or some other ungodly nonsense" Fianna sulked. As his laugh continued at her unintended pun, she looked at him sharply. Finally realizing what she had said that was so very funny, she smiled herself, but she was still not happy that once again Aeden would be putting himself in harm's way while actively trying to shield her from danger that she felt they should rightfully share.

They made it across the quiet fields without a hitch and watched as lamps were lit in the cottages and huts across the village. The complete lack of activity outside the houses was a little disconcerting but they had no choice other than to proceed if they wanted the answers to the riddle of what was happening here.

Aeden waited until Fianna was settled onto a solid branch before moving as quietly as he could toward his father's small cottage. The quiet alone bespoke something was wrong in Bretharc. By now a dog should have caught his scent and bayed or the laughter and play of the village children within the square should have been loud and clear at this distance, but Aeden heard nothing and the silence frightened him.

The distance to his father's door was not great, but it seemed to take forever moving so slowly. Checking carefully once more, he wrapped quietly upon the door and waited for a response. Just when he thought no one had heard and raised his hand to knock once more upon the wood planks, the door swung inward few inches. In the very faint light of the room he could see his father's surprised expression as he peered out.

Suddenly gathering himself, his father opened the door farther and beckoned him inside. "You shouldn't have come back" he whispered, looking about as if his very home might betray him.

"Fianna and I have come on behalf of the new High Druid. He specifically asked us to check on the village as we gathered information about the King and what has been happening here in Eire" Aeden replied, studying the worry lines on his father's face that had not been their when he left.

"It's a trap son, you have to go now" his father said.

Aeden had never seen his father so upset. The man was not prone to hysterics. "We know the risks father. We have come to see to the needs of the families. When you are all safe we will be on our way, but not before."

"The entire village is at Longford son" Aeden's father replied. "Somehow they knew you would be coming and that you would come to me first. They kept me here and sent the remainder of the village to a stockade at Longford where the garrison watches over them as prisoners."

Aeden didn't understand who "they" were, or how they knew that he would be here, but he did know that he had to get his father away and then he and Fianna could figure out what to do about the others.

"Come with me father" Aeden said. "Fianna and I will get you out of here."

"Son, these aren't soldiers here. They are abominations that use black magic, and there are..."

He never finished what he was about to say. Both of them reacted instantly to the sound of Fianna's bow twanging once, twice, three times in rapid succession. Aeden didn't know what threat Fianna had fired on, but he was certain that it was not feeling good about now.

His sword had only begun to slide free of its scabbard when the door burst open. The black robed figure that crashed through it was not alone, but he was foolish enough to be the first. Aeden aimed his draw to end in a lethal arc, but before he could complete the attack his assailant's face exploded in a spray of blood and bone. Aeden's father, moving faster than Aeden could have imagined, had struck the man in the face with a hammer used for forging iron.

Aeden was stunned by his father's quick reaction, but before he could comment his father leapt through the open door with his hammer in one hand and a machete in the other.

"Run now!" his father was shouting.

Fianna's bow hummed over and over without slowing, but she couldn't keep firing forever. Aeden sprang through the door sword up and ready just as a crackling bolt of lightning caught his father's shoulder, and with a scream of anguish Gareth the pig farmer was sent sailing.

In the afterglow of the attack Aeden could see that at least three more of the black robed figures were down, arrows protruding from their bodies, but several more were advancing at a run and one was standing to the side holding a gnarled and blackened staff who Aeden knew instinctively to be the leader of the group.

Arrows were bouncing off the empty air in front of the leader, and as he lifted his staff Aeden heard a crack as the old oak in which Fianna had hidden was sundered in two. Aeden, startled, glanced at the carnage that was once the great tree long enough to see Fianna fall, hurled from the branches of the oak like a leaf in the fall.

Aeden had no way of knowing if his father or his friend were alive or not, and he didn't have time to check. A white hot rage was consumed him and his blade ignited in a cold fire that gave his enemies pause. Charging straight at the leader, Aeden was intent upon destroying this unholy creature. Several of the remaining robed figures dodged into his path only to be struck down almost without effort. Aeden had closed about half the distance when some of the wiser of his foes struck from his flank. Their magic seared into him and before he knew it he was driven to his knees his flesh burning from the power that they had struck out at him with.

Despite the onslaught he kept his blade between himself and the leader. He knew that this man's power was the greater threat. Aeden tried to rise, but his strength was failing. It became a struggle just to hold his sword up, and for the first time since the Morrighan had enchanted his sword he felt the icy edge of fear. Aeden's will was being drained away fast. He had failed Riordan, his father, and Fianna. This last disturbed him the most, yet in his current condition he had no opportunity to reflect on the meaning of that.

Setting his teeth against the pain of the continued assault, he allowed his rage free reign and with it came a renewed desire to kill these foul sorcerers. Shaking with the strain, he managed to rise to one knee and finally to his feet. The half-smile on the lips of the leader faded as Aeden took his first halting step forward. The billowing robe whirled out and around him as his staff flared with magic of its own, which he brought to bear upon Aeden with a flourish. It was the man's own theatrics that prevented immediate victory, for as the man released his magical power Aeden had time to place his blade between himself and the coming spell. Aeden was the one smiling now, despite his pain. His sword was absorbing the power of the dark wizards spell, glowing ever brighter as it ravenously consumed the power meant to destroy Aeden.

Suddenly Aeden felt invigorated. He was drawing strength from the sword and though he could tell that it would be insufficient to save him from death it would easily give him enough to close the distance to his target and allow him to put an end to this one last menace. The leaders face showed his surprise as Aeden jumped forward the last few paces, and as quickly as it had begun his attack was ended. Almost immediately, the surge of energy weakened, and Aeden steeled his spirit, lunging forward. As he heaved himself forward with the last of his strength, his sword lit up like the sun for an instant as the razor sharp edge pierced the man's throat, slicing through the vulnerable veins and severing his spine.

As he fell to his knees Aeden wrenched the blade, which had the effect to severing the dark leader's head completely from his shoulders. Their leader gone the remaining few sorcerers redoubled their assault, and Aeden's strength gave out completely. He had accomplished this one last act, now all that remained was death. For the briefest of moments he thought to turn to face his slayers, but even that seemed too much to ask of his damaged body.

Bowing his head, Aeden thought bitterly of those he had failed. Consumed from within by this grief as he was consumed from without by the magic, he didn't immediately recognize the sound that seemed to carry with it a lessoning of his pain. When the almost rhythmic sound finally made itself known to his fuzzy consciousness, he wanted to cry for joy. Fianna lived! Only she could make the string of her god-forged bow hum so furiously. He wanted to scream "run, leave me and run Fianna" but all that came out was a wheezing noise and a froth of blood. The assault that had finished him abruptly ended. His attackers were either dead or turning their spells upon this new threat. With what felt like his last breath Aeden pitched himself forward rolling as he fell, to see what was happening.

Fianna was on one knee firing her bow so fast that her hands were a mere blurs of motion. Only two of the black robed figures could be seen still standing. One appeared to be shielding himself and his colleague from the hail of arrows, while the other prepared to strike back at their plucky adversary. Aeden could not bear to witness Fianna's death, but he could not look away either. Just when he thought she would be slain, the roar of a man putting forth his all sounded. Aeden's father, hair smoldering and left arm hanging limp, jumped up from where he had crawled with his hammer in hand and struck the defenders arm. The strike landed at the elbow so hard that shards of bone from the shattered joint protruded from the gruesome wound.

Almost instantly, a shaft of black blossomed from the other sorcerer's eye, and his unspent spell died with a crackling pop that blistered and burned his hands as he crumpled to the ground, dead so suddenly his spirit likely had no idea it had crossed the veil. That was the last thing Aeden saw as the darkness closed in and veiled his sight. He wondered if a crow would wait to lead him into the lands of the dead. Time stood still and he knew no more.

Caledonia

Riordan was frustrated. He'd intended to sweep across Caledonia and Albion, cross the sea to Gaul, and return to Eire ready to evict the usurpers that were led by the agent of the southern goddess. He had expected that by this point he would lead the druids and be on his way to restoring them to their post as councilors, judges, and spiritual leaders for the four kingdoms. What he hadn't counted on was that the druids in the lands not yet as torn by strife as Eire were loath to accept such a youthful leader, and felt that Finnis was attempting to perpetuate some sort of hoax.

In the end it was decided that messengers would be sent to all of the surviving groves asking for each to send representatives for a conclave to decide the matter of succession to the seat of High Druid. Finnis had been beside himself, knowing that in terms of raw talent, no one alive could match Riordan, but the conclave would test more than potential, and even with all the traditional safeguards in place, political duplicity was a risk.

Thus far, they had waited weeks to convene the process, as a legal quorum was required and without Gaul and Eire's representatives there was a shortage of delegates. Riordan feared a deadlock and by the day he had grown more and more inclined to forego the old fools and set out with any that would follow. News of Eire, normally frequent, had come to a sudden stop when the High King had conscripted every ship that made port in the south or east. As world of this conscription spread, traders sought less hazardous waters, essentially cutting off Eire from the other kingdoms.

Riordan and Finnis were discussing the choices available. If they set out to do what they knew must be done without the mantel of High Druid upon Riordan they risked losing the support of the groves forever. On the other hand if they didn't act soon the delegates that had arrived would begin to return to their homes, and the wait would gain them nothing. Even with Teagan, whom Finnis had named druid of Longford, officially replacing Liam, they needed two more delegates and each day that passed made the likelihood of more arriving seem ever more remote.

"A ship from Eire is docking in the bay" the young druid assigned to serve Finnis announced as he came into the small room that Finnis and Riordan shared.

Racing to the docks they arrived just in time to greet the landing party. The ship had come from Lord Donegal's fleet, intent upon recruiting mercenaries to overthrow the High King. Among the passengers were three druids that Finnis knew well.

"Aok, Gert, and Sean, how fortuitous the winds that brought you to these shores upon this day!" Finnis exclaimed, greeting the druids each in turn and introducing them to Riordan.

"So this is our hope and salvation?" Aok, the eldest of the three, asked giving Finnis a questioning glance. Riordan was used to skeptics, he too might have doubted in their shoes, but he could ill afford to lose the support of his own countrymen.

"Let us proceed to our lodging and you can divine the right of it yourselves" Finnis said, his confidence growing. "I know you to be capable of scrying the truth in this matter. Riordan find our young messenger and have him alert our host that Finnis, of the High Druid's Council is calling for the conclave at midday, then return to prove our claims to our countrymen."

Riordan smiled and bowed. Even in this Finnis was making use of his diplomacy skills. By proclaiming himself a member of the High Druid's Council, he was asserting Riordan's claim in no uncertain terms, but by placing Riordan in a subordinate role until after the decision, he had given Riordan the chance to prove that he was neither pompous nor above serving others.

The noon hour had not yet struck when he returned personally laden with a tray of bread and cheese. "Shall we dine first or would you prefer to wait until the meat is tenderized?" He asked in a jest that made everyone laugh heartily.

"You are correct Finnis, he is the gods own chosen" Aok remarked clapping Finnis on the back. "And he is of Eire, which means he will have our vote in the conclave, but who knows if these foreigners will listen even to their own bones" he said, noting the look of surprise on Riordan's face. "Relax young man, you are High Druid in all but name now until you pass on the mantle, and may that be many long years. The druids of Eire will follow you wherever you lead."

Riordan smiled, "well, three is better than none" he said, effortlessly switching to the role of leader.

"You may count on more than three. We have already more than a hundred among Donegal's army and more join us every day. Many are sneaking up from the south where they have been hiding. We are a resourceful lot" Aok said, grinning at the shock on both Riordan and Finnis's faces.

Aok had helped Finnis for a time before Riordan's reappearance. They had been rescuing and mobilizing the few survivor's that had escaped the fate of their fellows that had befallen when the soldiers came with their sorcerers to assist, but there had only been a score or less to Finnis's knowledge and most of those had been teary eyed apprentices whose interrupted training made them useful as messengers and little else.

"Kian himself is training them in battle magic, and that crazy Gaul Renfrey turned up with four seasoned adepts out of nowhere. We asked him what had happened there but he wasn't discussing anything, saying that he would speak of it only once and that too the new High Druid. I tried to get him and Kian both here to help but they refused, and both outrank me so I couldn't exactly force the issue" Aok informed them.

Riordan didn't know either of these names, but it was obvious that Finnis did and his beaming smile and nod of approval was enough to let Riordan know that these men were good allies to have. "Now we just need to convince the rest of them that I am who Finnis claims, and go save Eire and our way of life from this southern goddess and her minions" Riordan said far more confidently than he felt.

Finnis took out his oracle and cast the sticks upon the altar that he and Riordan had built. Riordan had been surprised to discover that he had more raw power at his disposal than the aging Finnis, but the old druids experience and subtlety more than made up for it. They had already spent many long hours practicing a wide variety of skills and Riordan proved a quick study.

As the sticks came to rest in a pattern that the untrained would view as completely random, Finnis indicated that all present should observe for themselves what the meaning might be. Riordan heard the surprised hiss of breath as Aok recognized something that surprised him. Riordan thought he had become adept at reading the fews but nothing that he saw would have produced such a reaction. Turning back to the fews, he assessed them anew and finally he saw it. Certainly what he saw was not a direct reading of the fews, and he had only recently began learning how the arrangement of the fews itself brought shades of meaning to the reading which were sometimes every bit as important as the direct interpretation. In this case the fews had fallen in a very specific shape, that of the cauldron of the Dagda, the ruling god of their people.

Aok looked at Finnis. "Has this happened before?" he asked incredulous.

"Never once in all my years, until his Nameday. Thrice have I asked, and thrice has this exact pattern fallen" Finnis said, obviously amazed himself by the pattern.

"I do not yet know enough to discern the meaning of this" Riordan admitted. "I recognize the symbol, and see the Dagda's hand in this but isn't his hand in all the works of the druids?"

"It means, my dear Riordan, that on the day that your proclaim yourself High Druid, the Dagda himself will intercede on your behalf" said Aok with a tone of reverence.

Just then the young apprentice that who was assigned to them burst into the room. "The groves have already been called to conclave and I believe they intend to put aside the matter of selecting the High Druid until suitable candidates can be found" he said between gasping breaths.

Finnis and the others realized in that moment that someone was attempting to block their efforts, and Finnis had an idea of who that someone might be. They had only minutes at best before Sianna, High Druid of Caledonia would close the grove and the conclave which could not be called more than once in a given year would end, taking with it their last chance of uniting the druids behind their cause.

Finnis realized only now that there was more now in the selection of their rooms than passive insult. Sianna had been plotting all along to manipulate the conclave to shut Riordan, and by default Eire, out. Racing across the small town and up the hill overlooking it on which the standing stones marked the grove meeting place, Finnis feared they were already too late.

There were certain ceremonies and a prescribed period for new business that was required but he was sure that Sianna had seen to the arrangement and timing so as to thwart their plans. He wondered how the southerners had gotten to Sianna. What could they have offered her that would make her sell out her own? Perhaps she was being coerced in some way? He didn't know, but there was no doubt of the southerner's hand in this debacle.

Finnis was surprised when they crested the hill, only to find the conclave still in session. They could hear a female voice, obviously Sianna's own raised in anger, but could not see who or what she was shouting at until they burst through the circle of druids ringing the standing stones.

Riordan knew him immediately, or thought that he did. He'd not laid eyes upon him since that night at the river when the old one-eyed god had led the hounds astray. Aeden had seen him from a much closer distance on that same day and his description surely fit. Riordan thought he could see something of Aeden's features on the haggard old face.

When Riordan and Finnis burst into the circle, flanked by Aok and his fellows, the tension, already thick enough to cut with a knife, reached all new levels. Sianna's ranting stopped midsentence when she saw Finnis approaching the altar. The old man stood behind the position reserved for the chief druid of a grove in the north. Tradition dictated that no man stood there; it was the space reserved for the gods.

Had it been anyone else, Sianna's wrath would certainly have been justified, but Riordan was pretty certain that the old man stood right where he belonged. Sianna seemed to be preparing to say something more when Riordan boldly stepped in front of Finnis and approached the old man, bowing deferentially. "My lord" he greeted, "we are honored by your presence." His words and actions, those of a man in charge caused an uncharacteristic murmur to sweep around the grove. "The druids are at your service as always" Riordan finished.

"Well said" the old man replied in a voice so deep and filled with power that none present doubted what Riordan had implied. Finnis and the other druids or Eire bowed as they formed a semicircle behind Riordan. Finnis had positioned himself so that he could keep watch on Sianna, so he was in a good position to see her blanch when she realized who her tirade had been directed at. Her own bow was stiff and formal, and Finnis could not read her intentions or motivations. The druids of the four kingdoms began to bow in a wave that passed around the grove.

"Hear me!" the Dagda Mor, King of the Gods said. "Your way is darkened and we gods can do little to shine a light upon your path. You are beset by the intrigues and plots of a goddess from the lands far to the south of our own, as well as from within your own ranks" he said looking pointedly at Sianna. "I commend this young man to you as my appointed representative to be the leader of your order. Any who doubt my judgment in this should step forward."

Everyone looked on in wonder. The gods rarely spoke to men as blatantly or candidly. Sianna had collapsed, her body wracked with sobs. Riordan could not understand why she would react so, but he could hear her moaning quietly; something about "lost" and "he'll kill them." He didn't know what was going on, but it was obvious that she had somehow been cornered into standing against him.

Walking over to the kneeling woman he took her arm and lifted her. There were gasps around the circle, and one woman in the back cried out "No bloodshed in the grove."

Ignoring all else, Riordan held her up, searching her face for signs of what was ravaging her soul. Using his magic to search her body and mind, he quickly determined that neither sickness nor enchantment was to blame, and though her mind was in a state of turmoil she was not insane. Either she had some personal motivation to have opposed him or someone had in some way threatened her. That someone could somehow cause her to abandon her own principles, the very same principles that had allowed her to rise to the exalted position that she now held, was disturbing.

"Sianna" he whispered softly. "Do you accept me as High Druid?"

Her body was wracked anew with sobs but she nodded affirmatively. Holding out his staff, the staff that had passed down from High Druid to successor for as long as the order had existed, he offered her the choice to make oath upon it. This ancient staff was imbued with the magic of its bearers over the generations, and it gave its bearers powers that few other than the High Druids were aware of, but one power was legendary; any druid who swore an oath upon the staff would find their magic stripped from them and absorbed by the staff should that vow ever be broken.

"Sianna, High Druidess of Caledonia, will you swear upon the staff of the High Druid to follow my orders as High Druid without question?" Riordan asked, loud enough to be heard by all. Lifting her head proudly, Sianna took hold of the staff, and vowed her life to the support of the High Druid. When it was done, Riordan joined her in closing the grove and ordered everyone to reassemble at dusk for a meeting.

"Sianna, what does the enemy hold over you?" Riordan asked once everyone had dispersed, save the two of them and Finnis.

"The King of Eire holds my grandchildren hostage. They are to be executed upon the battlefield if you bring the order to the battle. They are being held with the villagers of Bretharc in a town called Longford" she confessed, knowing full well that her words carried import for him as well.

Riordan stared at her for long moments as he considered his options. "In that case Sianna, I am compelled to remove you as High Druid of Caledonia."

Sacrifice

Aeden dreamed of dark places where the light of the gods had not shown. He wondered as he dreamed if perhaps his soul had not wandered into some nightmare land, from where he might never escape. He felt alone, and for the first time since accepting the gift of the Morrighan, he felt unsure of himself. It was like being lost in a maze without end, and the harder he tried to escape the more lost he became. He had nearly given up hope when his mother appeared.

"Mother?" he asked, thinking this was some trick. She was standing before him as though she had just materialized from some other realm, and in her left hand she held his sword.

"Yes son, it is I. I have watched over you from afar, and would give anything to be at your side but my father forbids it. I can only visit with you here because this place is between worlds" she told him, the depth of her emotions struggling to burst free. They sat and talked for a time, and Aeden felt a sense of peace that he had never known before. She talked of his family and of falling in love with his father even though it had been forbidden. He couldn't understand the reasoning behind much of what the gods did, but it was enough to know that his mother hadn't abandoned him for lack of love.

Aeden could have talked to her for days but she reluctantly handed him his sword, along with a small leather bag with a three pointed symbol tooled into the leather. "You have to go back son. Your friends need you more than I. The world needs you. You will find some useful items in that bag, but use them wisely. They are as rare as they are powerful."

As he took the sword and bag from her, everything around him faded to white, and before he could say farewell, she was gone. The brightness of the light forced him to shut his eyes, but as the glow faded, he blinked them open once more only to find a woman leaning over him. For a moment he thought that it was his mother.

"He's awake" Fianna's voice, so close, cut through the fog in his mind. Glancing around he found they were in a small cabin. It didn't look familiar, so Aeden assumed they were no longer in Bretharc.

"Where are we? What has happened?" Aeden asked immediately.

"Settle down son and we'll tell you everything, just don't talk too much and don't try to get up" his father said from across the room.

He lay back upon the rough mattress, anxiously awaiting the news of what had transpired. They tested his patience nearly to the point of breaking as his father limped over to him, his leg and shoulder wrapped in bandages, while Fianna went to the fire, only to return in a moment with a bowl of broth. His father held a cup of ale to his lips and the strong dark fluid made him realize that he was famished.

"How long..." he began to ask.

"Shush Aeden" Fianna scolded. "We'll tell you about it as long as you eat and lay still."

Aeden wanted to tell her that he could get up and feed himself. However, as she began spooning hot soup into his mouth the warmth filled his insides and began spreading to his limbs which had grown numb from disuse. He decided it might be best to indulge their concerns until he understood better what had happened.

The biggest shock was discovering that he had been unconscious for nearly two weeks. Though wounded themselves, Fianna and his father had rounded up the horses and gotten him into a potato cart. They'd traveled all night to get to this place. It was a hunting cabin that his father said belonged to an old friend of his before the man died. His father had stopped by when he could to keep the place up when he had to travel to Longford.

They had tended him and each other as best they could, but without a healer it was impossible to know if Aeden would live or die. His father had been burned all down one side, and his wounds were still healing. Fianna knew enough wood lore to find a plant to help prevent infection while his body repaired itself. Fianna had been stabbed by a broken branch when the tree fell, piercing her thigh, but his father had managed to stitch it up, and after a few days she had been able to get around almost as good as new.

Aeden's external wounds had healed quickly, especially considering that he had been charred by the magic of the sorcerers over most of his body, but still he had not awakened. Fianna told him that his father had prayed to his mother night and day, but they had begun to lose hope as the second week slipped away with no signs of change.

"She came to me" Aeden said. Fianna and his father just looked at one another, clearly thinking that he had been dreaming. "Really, she did. She gave me this" he said, holding up the bag. "She spoke to me about our family and why she couldn't be with us. I didn't understand it all, but she told me I had to go back and handed me this and my sword and the next thing I knew I was awaking here."

"We lost your sword Aeden" Fianna said, and something in the way she said made Aeden realize that she was not exactly unhappy about it. He could feel the hilt under his hand and taking hold of it pulled it from beneath the blanket.

Fianna gasped and his father just stared in wonder. "We looked everywhere, but it was nowhere to be found. I feared that the gods had reclaimed it because you would not survive your wounds" Gareth said.

Aeden was curious about what was in the bag, but he decided that now was not the time to find out. Fianna continued feeding him the broth along with some soaked bread while his father said a silent prayer to his mother in thanks. He had finished the soup before he remembered what had not been discussed. "What of Bretharc and the people?" he asked, watching their faces, in case their expressions revealed something they were unwilling to say.

"They are safe, for now" they both said in unison. Aeden had no doubt that they had rehearsed this response.

"What is happening? Do I need to go find out myself?" he asked, knowing that they were holding something back.

The both looked at the other once again, hesitant to speak, until Aeden had had enough and began to rise. It was easier than he would have expected, but Fianna's hand upon his chest compelled him to stay down. He stopped trying to stand when his father began to speak.

"They are being held at the garrison at Longford. Fianna caught one of their soldiers two days ago, defecting to the north. He told her that they were to be sacrificed to some foreign goddess from over the sea just as the rebel army prepares to engage the king's army" his father told him.

"So Lord Donegal moves to oppose the king?" Aeden asked.

"The whole of the north, and if the defector is to be believed, much of the south" his father replied.

"We have to stop this sacrifice, we have to save our people" Aeden cried.

"You're people are right here" Fianna said, a hint of anger in her voice.

"What of your father? What of Riordan's family, or the others?" Aeden demanded to know.

Fianna said nothing, struggling to hold back some grievous pain that Aeden could see but not identify. He could see unwelcome tears welling in her eyes, and was struck dumb. Fianna had never shown such emotion in his presence and he knew something terrible must be behind this display.

Aeden's father spoke up to answer what Fianna could not. "When the dark ones came, Fianna's father rallied a few men to chase them from the village. We hadn't understood what they were capable of, though I expect Fergus had some notion. I don't think he expected to survive, only to give you kids more time. After they burned them with their magic, they made us leave their bodies in the street as a reminder."

Fianna's tears were flowing freely now, though her rigid posture broached no hint of weakness; she would not dishonor her father's memory so.

"I am so sorry Fianna" Aeden said, grasping her hand where it still lay idle upon his chest.

"Do not offer me your condolences" she snapped, drawing her hand away. "I will mourn my father when every last one of these savages is sent into the afterlife, and not before."

Aeden knew Fianna well after all of their adventures together, and he almost pitied those responsible for her ire. She was right about one thing, they didn't need to waste time with what was done, and instead needed to focus on the living; they owed the people of Bretharc that much at least. "Do we know how many of these dark sorcerers we will face in Longford; how many soldiers?" Aeden asked.

Fianna visibly collected herself before answering. "The bulk of the sorcerers were at Bretharc, and I don't think any of those survived. The man I talked to had only seen their leader and a couple of his lieutenants around Longford in the week before he left. If he is to be believed the garrison is down to just over fifty men guarding the prisoners and town, and their number keeps diminishing every time they send out a patrol. It seems they have been suffering a number of defections, and their patrols have been suffering heavy casualties at the hands of some vigilante that is never seen. According to the defector I talked to, this vigilante can pierce a man's eye at a hundred yards with an arrow" Fianna said, chuckling at this last.

"I think I should find this vigilante, and persuade her to join our cause" Aeden said laughing.

A part of him was concerned that she had gone alone to scout the town's defenses and engage the patrols in this way, but he knew her too well to expect her to act in any other way. Gareth was clearly of another mind, shaking his head disapprovingly, but no doubt he still saw Fianna as the young girl that grown up in Bretharc village. He couldn't yet know that the quiet young lady he remembered, if she ever existed at all, was now gone; replaced by a warrior woman, seasoned in blood.

"Any word on how long before Lord Donegal attacks?" Aeden asked, knowing before she answered that they had very little time.

"Nothing certain, but the king's army is in camp just across the river. He has over fifteen thousand men and it appears that he holding them until the exact location of Donegal's force can be determined. So far, no one seems to know where he has gone. A courier that I shot yesterday carried a message that the northern army had marched south almost a week hence, but if so they should have been here by now" Fianna told him.

"That is troubling, but it does nothing to change our course. We need to go now and free our people. We can take them north and attempt to find Lord Donegal's army" Aeden said, rising despite the looks of protest.

"Aeden, you just awoke after sustaining injuries that should have killed you!" his father complained, clearly unwilling that his son risk himself further.

Aeden didn't respond; he didn't need to. They all knew that to delay almost certainly meant the death of almost everyone they knew. Fianna could see that he intended to go and ignoring the voices in her that would have them ignore this crisis she extended her hand taking his. He moved around a bit, taking it slowly at first. His strength seemed to flow back into him from the sword in his hand, and despite his reservations, he silently thanked the Morrighan for her gift.

Fianna went about gathering their gear while Aeden worked loose muscles made sore and weak by his prolonged convalescence. His father went outside, presumably to prepare their horses, but when he came back inside he was wearing a chain corselet and carrying a spear. Aeden's first instinct was to tell his father that he couldn't come, but then he realized that it would be safer for all to bring him and find the best use for him than to have him follow and inadvertently foul whatever plan they devised.

"Can you use that?" he asked curious as to how and where his father had acquired such arms. Almost faster than he could follow his father switched grips, reversing his spear and struck Aeden lightly in the chest before turning, reversing his grip once again and hurling the spear out the door to stick deeply in a stump nearly twenty feet beyond the cabin.

"First spear in the Longford regiment, but I'm a bit rusty" he father said smiling.

Aeden stunned, allowed a wicked grin to spread over his face; it seemed his father might be an asset after all. Three against fifty were horrible odds, especially with at least three of these sorcerers among them. Two hours later they were creeping through the underbrush on the edge of the forest that butted up against Longford, opposite the river. The garrison was clearly visible from here and Aeden didn't like what he saw.

The garrison had never been fortified in the past, large swaths of forest had been cut back, the logs used to construct barricades which surrounded the entire garrison in a large semicircle from the river bank to river bank. Men were stationed on guard every few feet. A tower was erected over a large wooden enclosure just beyond the barricades, where presumably the captives were being held.

Fianna had obviously been here already and he smiled to consider that many of these defensive measures were a reaction to her uncanny accuracy with her bow. Still it made the assault on even less promising. Perhaps they could burn the new barricades from afar, but there was some risk that the fire would spread, harming the innocent.

"Anyone have any good ideas?" Aeden asked, concerned that the suicidal charge that he'd first imagined was their only option.

"Well, I've been here in the spring, and if that sword of yours will do what you claim, I have an idea" his father replied.

Aeden and Fianna both looked at him in confusion, neither having expected him to have input. "What do you have in mind Gareth?" Fianna asked.

"Can your sword truly cut through anything?" His father asked, looking searchingly at Aeden.

Aeden was no more enlightened than he had been, but as soon as he nodded his father began working his way back to where the horses were tied mumbling something about giving the enemy the high ground. Aeden and Fianna followed him, wanting to get out of sight before pressing for an explanation. He was already mounted on his horse and was beckoning them to hurry when they caught up to him.

"What are you talking about?" they both demanded.

"Not here, come on this way I will show you. It is better that way" he replied turning his horse and riding away from the garrison.

It was almost nightfall before they could get him to talk. He had led them in almost a complete circle around Longford. They were all a bit surprised that they had not encountered any patrols. Evidently, Fianna's sneaky assaults had made the garrison commander hesitant to sacrifice more men. They had crossed the river, downstream from the two low hills that bordered the pastures east of Longford. Circling around to the top of one of the hills they could just make out the town and garrison in the distance when Gareth began explaining his plan.

"You see how the river winds around the town in a big horseshoe?" Gareth asked them,

"Yes" both replied, hoping that they hadn't wasted most of the day.

"When I was about your age, we had a sudden thaw one spring that was accompanied by torrential rains that lasted for days. The town flooded, the river rose until it flowed all across the plains. The streets flooded, but the townsfolk knew enough to have their homes and shops on the higher ground there and there" he said pointing out features in the distant town. "Only a few of the newer buildings were damaged. The old garrison stood on the rise where they now have the stockade. The new garrison there is far too close to the river, and if the water rose even to the height of a man, they will find it difficult to mount an effective defense."

"I see that" Fianna said, "but how do we get the water to raise enough to do this? It doesn't look like rain to me."

Aeden's father had them dismount. He led them across the top of the hill to where the ground suddenly gave way in a sheer cliff that hung out over the river. "This is where I first met your mother Aeden" he said.

"That is interesting father but how does this help us?" Aeden wanted to know.

"Look around us" Gareth said a faint smirk on his face.

It took a while for Aeden to see it, but Fianna began to laugh right away. The huge stone face of the cliff for hundreds of yards in either direction was cracked and straining under its own weight to fall into the river below. The narrow bit of land that they had walked across when they came to the ledge was all that held back the enormous slab of stone.

"If you can cut through that" his father said pointing, "we can flood them out."

Minutes later, a rope tied around his waist, Aeden was cutting deep grooves through the solid stone. Despite the fact that his sword cut through the stone as easily as the wind passes through an open window, it was a slow and tedious task. He had to cut great hunks from the stone and stop to clear the rubble frequently. He was beginning to doubt the plan when he heard the first crack. It was deep and sounded like distant thunder beneath his feet. A cacophony of clattering stones and a slight tremor ran beneath him. He could feel the rope tighten as Fianna and his father took of the slack, but the stone face held.

The crack was the first promising sign that his father's mad plan might actually work. With renewed vigor he took up his sword and cut mighty gouges in the stone all along the exposed bridge. He was halfway back, cutting a second row of deep gouges when the ground beneath him gave way with a roar like an angry dragon.

Aeden found himself clinging tightly to the rope that was all that prevented him from falling into the newly opened abyss with one hand while clutching his sword in the other. As he felt the pull of the two above hoisting him up he concentrated on the sword. "I think I will name you Caladbolg" he said, the name meaning "hard cleft" in the ancient language of the Gaels.

"Now what?" Fianna asked, mirroring the thought that Aeden was still too winded to express.

"Now we ride upstream and find ourselves a siege machine!" Gareth announced, excited by his own plan, though still he had not shared all the details with Aeden and Fianna. As he mounted up once more and headed west into the growing darkness Aeden and Fianna looked at one another and shrugged. The circumstances of his success so far made them more willing to follow him without yet knowing the fullness of his plan.

As they rode they had to veer farther and farther away from the river's natural course as the waters had begun to rise rapidly. By the time they drew abreast of Longford, the water was beginning to run over the levies constructed for normal spring floods. Very soon the garrison's denizens would be scrambling to deal the rising water.

A half mile upstream, Aeden's father dismounted at a wide shallow point in the river. Tying off their horses he explained what he needed of them and their role in the rescue. He didn't say much about his own role, except to say that he would provide a distraction. Aeden was ready to accept that answer at face value but Fianna was troubled.

Before they sat out to prepare for their part in the plan, Gareth had Aeden cut down and trim up five huge logs, which Fianna pulled to the water's edge using the horses. Hugging both of them tightly, he bid them farewell. "Off you go now, and wait, for my signal. Take care of each other" he said, turning to study the logs he'd tied together at the water's edge.

At the appointed hour Fianna and Aeden were in position. They had stolen the ferry just above the town, though stolen might have been a strong term considering that the ferryman's cottage was already knee deep in the steadily rising water, and he and his family were gone. Tying the large barge to their horses they drug it behind them until they were only a hundred yards or so from the stockade where the people of Bretharc were being held. They tied the craft up in the shallows that only hours before had been clear cut grazing land, and waited upon Gareth's diversion.

As they watched, they could see soldiers scrambling everywhere around the garrison, which was now almost chest deep in the rising water. They were trying to move equipment and supplies to higher ground. There was also a group of perhaps twenty soldiers formed up and headed east, presumably to investigate the cause of the flood. If they were away before the diversion occurred it would mean that many less soldiers to deal with.

As far as they could tell, only two guards in the tower still watched the prisoners, and if there were more, they must be inside, for the water was lapping at the wall of the stockade, and the flickering light of the torches on the walls showed no one on watch below. The water was rising still, and the plan seemed to be working almost too well, as the flood waters showed no sign of cresting, and the people of Longford appeared to be abandoning the town, if the line of torches travelling east along the low ridge, that was now about the only dry spot in town, was any indication. The soldiers marching east passed the slower moving refugees and in short order were out of sight as they sloshed down the muddy and swampy road toward the east. They wouldn't go far that way Aeden thought; unless they were prepared to swim.

Suddenly, a cry went up from the tower. Something was approaching from up river. Aeden and Fianna could see nothing but an intense light rising over the trees that blocked the source from their view. They didn't have long to wait however, as the light was rapidly moving down river toward the town. It was moving far faster than the now sluggish river current.

All eyes were on the light as it came into view from where Aeden and Fianna were waiting. They were nearly as stunned as the garrison soldiers to see Aeden's father riding at a full gallop, spear held high, through the shallows approaching the garrison. A rope tied fast to his big horse was affixed to the barge he had made of the logs Aeden had cut. The light was coming from a huge pile of drift wood and brush that he had piled upon the barge, which now blazed in an ever growing inferno that was nearly twenty feet high.

Aeden stood transfixed by this spectacle until Fianna's elbow reminded him that they had a job of their own to do. Quickly and quietly they pushed the ferry off from the shore and Aeden used their horses to pull it slowly toward the stockade. They were clearly visible now but the soldiers were fixated on the apparent madman on a suicide mission racing toward their post. Fianna was on the ferry, prepared to eliminate the guards in the tower. She was glad there were only two, any more and it would have been difficult to eliminate them without sounding an alarm. With just the two, it was likely they would perish before either could cry out, assuming she didn't miss. Sticking two arrows into the soft wooden rails of the ferry, she knocked a third and drew her bow.

One of the guards turned to look east, having no way to know what a fatal mistake that would be. He was dead before the barbed tip of the arrow exploded from between his eyes, and Fianna had knocked her second arrow before his now limp form pitched over the rail to fall into the murky water below. The other guard had not even noticed the absence of his fellow when he was rendered speechless, an arrow through his throat.

Aeden had been watching his father's mad ride with a growing sense of trepidation. He could see how this distraction would pull attention away from them, but how would make good his own escape? As the water grew deeper, Gareth's horse began to falter, and he turned aside, cutting the rope and setting the burning barge on a collision course with the walls of the garrison itself. Rather than turn and ride toward the stockade he ran his horse toward the river, drawing fire from those few archers still attentive on the walls. His horse screamed as an arrow pierced its flank, falling and throwing him into the swirling water.

Aeden watched in terror as the horse, kicking and flailing, rose from the water and was swept past the garrison and down the river, but there was no sign of his father in the turbulent waters. Aeden's search for his father was abruptly cut short as the brilliance of Gareth's distraction came to fruition. The combined weight of the log barge and its burning cargo was considerably more than the average battering ram and propelled by the big horse's gallop combined with the current, it continued along its path straight toward the garrison. It smashed thought the outer barricades without slowing and seconds later it struck the wall. The garrison wall was already strained by the rising waters, and when the barge struck it the massive logs pierced the compromised wall easily, but not before the groaning impact hurled burning debris in every direction, threatening to start more fires in a hundred places where the burning brands landed above the rising waters.

"Cut us a way in" Fianna whispered fiercely, shaking him to get his attention. Roused from the spectacle of the burning garrison Aeden noticed that the ferry was drawn up against the stockade. Leaping from his horse, he drew his sword and with a few quick strokes opened a hole through the stockade wall. As he jumped through the opening the hairs on the back of his neck prickled in alarm and he only just had time to raise his sword before the flames engulfed him.

Though fire surrounded him on all sides and the heat was growing intolerable, he did not burn and the sword seemed to devour the flames that otherwise would have burned him to a crisp. Based on the sheer power, he knew that he was facing the leader of this group of invaders. At least two more of the dark mages were likely to be in here with him, and if they flanked him, as had happened in Bretharc, he was in trouble.

Outside, Fianna couldn't get through the flames that now shot from the opening that Aeden had cut in the wall. She was growing desperate; knowing that Aeden was facing the sorcerers, and perhaps soldiers as well, alone just on the other side of the wall. She was pacing back and forth, trying to think of a way to get to Aeden, when she noticed the movement at the garrison. The doors were thrown wide, and a greatly depleted but still sizeable force marched out abandoning their posts; leaving the garrison itself to burn.

She had not choice now, Aeden would have to deal with the battle within the walls; she had her own battle to fight. She had to slow or stop these troops or their efforts would all be in vain. Slipping from the ferry she skirted the deepening water around the stockade intending to come at soldiers from the far side.

To her surprise the soldiers had come to a stop in the rising water just over half way to the stockade. The one who Fianna presumed to be their captain was arguing with one of the robed clerics, who was growing increasingly animated. Both of them were gesturing toward the stockade, clearly in disagreement. With a final gesture of disgust the commander of the garrison issued a command, and his soldiers turned to face the east and the last of the fleeing villagers and began to march toward the high ground. The captain brushed past the cleric in the waist deep water and forged on toward the receding shoreline. The sorcerer screamed in anger and raised his hands, dark magic crackling between his fingertips, obviously prepared to punish the captain for his impudence.

Without even thinking, Fianna brought up her bow and fired in one smooth motion. Sixty paces was a long shot in the full light of day, and at night it was all but impossible. To her surprise and relief, her arrow flew true, striking the sorcerer just above the ear. The power he had intended to release rebounded on him, engulfing him for a moment in magical fire as he fell dead into the water and slowly began to drift away.

The captain and his troop stopped as he looked around carefully, unsure what had just happened but certain that someone had just saved him from the fate he had committed himself too. Several of his men were drawing weapons but the captain barked an order and they stopped, returning swords to scabbards. Staying in formation, they began moving directly toward Fianna's position again, as she cursed herself for not letting the cleric reduce their number before she had to face them. Knocking another arrow, she prayed that Aeden would be successful and made ready to take as many with her into the afterlife as possible.

Just as she was about to release, taking careful aim at the captains head, he held up a hand and his troop stopped. She waited, hoping he would order his troops away again. She watched tensely as drew his sword and placed the tip of it in his left hand, holding it high overhead in a traditional signal of surrender, before moving forward again. His soldiers didn't move as he walked slowly closer. By the time he started, indicating that he had finally seen Fianna in the shadow of the wall, he was no more than five paces away. Far too close for her to miss.

"You must be the hunter that has my soldiers terrified of the woods" he said, his accent undeniably identifying him as a son of Eire. When Fianna made no move to speak or to lower her bow he continued. "I am Commander Iollan of the Longford Regulars, and I formally surrender myself and my garrison to your command."

Fianna couldn't believe what she was hearing. He was surrendering, to her? Certainly this must be a trick. "And what are the terms of your surrender?"

Iollan looked at her in surprise, perhaps only now recognizing her youth. "You serve the druids if the stories surrounding you and your companions be true. To long have we been ruled from afar by foreign powers bent on destroying our people. King or no, I will not serve a man who does not serve the people any longer. I and my men have served the wrong master, and for that you may demand justice. If that is your wish, understand that my men have only followed orders, and I ask that you exact whatever justice you see fit from me Fianna."

Fianna hadn't realized that their exploits were known to the people, but there was no other way that he could know her name. She had little choice but to trust him, so lowering her bow she approached him carefully. When he made no movement, she addressed him formally. "Do you vow to serve Eire under my command; to keep her safe at the price of your own life until such time as you are released of duty?"

Extending his sword hilt toward her Iollan took a knee, the swirling water coming nearly to his chin. "I vow to serve you until you release me, Lady Fianna."

He had altered the wording of the vow subtly but she could find no fault. "Get me inside the stockade, and have your men prepared to assist the prisoners" she ordered.

"Aye! There are still two of those robed devils within" he added.

"I'm aware, my companion is inside fighting them now and I need to get in there to assist him" she replied.

Iollan nodded. "I will do as you ask, but I fear this may be the briefest command in military history."

He clearly felt as though this was a fool's mission, but he turned and barked orders to his men who began to move without hesitation. "I should send someone after the rest of my men" he said, looking to her for approval.

"There are two horses tied to a ferry just beyond the gate. Send a man on horseback to get word to your patrol, and send another to look for signs of our compatriot that caused that" she ordered, pointing at the garrison, now engulfed in flames to the water line.

Aeden was holding his own against the leader of the foreigner sorcerers, but holding was insufficient to his needs. He was getting stronger though as the sword drank of the dark power and used it to fuel his strength. It was only a matter of time before his assailant faltered and Aeden would have him. The only question was would the clerics allies come to his aide before Aeden could finish him. Alone, the leader could only hold him at bay, but it took all of his strength to hold him back, and if his defenses waivered even for a second, he would be lost.

Aeden was just beginning to hope that the sorcerer had thought himself so powerful that he had come alone until he saw the furtive shadow moving along the side of one of the huts that dotted the ground inside the stockade. This simple trap was going to be his end. Just like in Bretharc, he was being flanked, only this time his friends could not get to him to lend aid.

Another shadow moved behind the first, but Aeden ignored it; two were enough, more didn't seem to matter. It wasn't until the new shadow approached the first, who was now in a perfect position to strike, that Aeden noticed anything odd about the new arrival. He couldn't put his finger on what it was until the last second before the first struck, but it was apparent that the second was dressed differently. Rather than the staff the sorcerers he'd fought thus far carried, the newcomer seemed to be carrying a heavy cudgel. Just as the first raised his arms to cast his spell at Aeden, the second swung the cudgel overhead and with a sound like that of a walnut cracking, stove in the sorcerer's skull. The resonating crack could be heard across the walled area.

The leader looked away in surprise and for just a moment his attention waivered. Aeden took advantage, hurling himself forward toward the cleric, sword held high. At the last possible second the sorcerer raised his arms extending his power like a shield, and Aeden saw him smile. His smile turned to a rictus of pain as the Morrighan's enchantment cleaved the spell and the cleric's arms where they crossed, narrowly missing his head in its explosive decent. The shockwave of magic expelled by the shattered defense knocked both combatants to the ground.

As quickly as he could Aeden rose, but the cleric was gone. His unexpected ally lit a torch and in its glow Aeden saw Faolan's father, Tierney, still holding the bloody cudgel with which he had brained the would-be assassin.

"Aeden? Is Faolan with you?" Tierney asked.

"He is with Riordan. They left for Caledonia just after midwinter" Aeden informed him.

"He is alive though?"

"Yes sir, alive and well when last I saw him."

Others were coming into the light, mostly faces that Aeden had known all his life growing up in Bretharc, though they had been happier and less gaunt. The people he had known as a robust and healthy farming community now looked as though they had been visited by some horrific wasting plague.

"How long have you been here?" Aeden demanded. His father had not mentioned how long the village had been incarcerated.

Curt, Riordan's father, smiled at Aeden. "Since the day our young heroes went off to save the world" he said, allowing only a little of his bitterness into his quavering voice. "It was not always this bad, the soldiers kept us well fed and warm, and in the summer the men got to return to Bretharc to sow the fields and tend the herds. This fall the black cloaks showed up, and things got bad, most of us haven't eaten for days."

Just then the gates burst open and Aeden, furious at the treatment of his people, rushed the gate with his sword ready to slaughter whoever came through. The mailed soldier, obviously a ranking officer who was pushing open one side of the gate, narrowly missed losing his head as he flung himself back.

"Aeden, stop!" Fianna's voice rang out.

Aeden pulled up short, uncertainty warring with rage. Sword swept up and behind him, he stood ready to cut down anyone that moved. The gate opposite where he'd attacked the commander continued to creak open, filling the night with the sounds of ungreased hinges scraping through the rust that had formed upon them. Fianna stood behind that gate, calm despite her captivity. She was several feet in front of her captors, and Aeden was certain he would have time to get between the obviously unprepared soldiers and Fianna before they could react.

Fianna could see Aeden calculating, and it almost took her too long to recognize what he was planning. "No Aeden, there men are here to help. They have sworn their allegiance to our cause, and as such are under my protection."

Her words struck him like a slap in the face. "They have all but killed our families, and you would have me let them live?"

"Lad, they treated us well despite their orders until the black robes came. A soldier does as he is ordered, it is the way of things" Curt said from behind him.

Aeden could hear the murmurs of agreement from behind him, yet still he had cause for anger. "They killed you own father and mine" he hissed his fury threatening to break free.

"They did no more nor less than we might have in their place" Fianna told him, moving to place herself between her new command and Aeden's wrath.

The soldiers were all fairly fixated on the glowing blade in Aeden's hand. As soldiers, they had a better idea than most whose hand had enchanted such an artifact, though none of them had ever laid eyes upon anything of its kind before. Every man there simply knew that if the Champions blade turned against them, they would perish.

The insanity of the night and the intensity of the drama before them prevented those who should have been on watch from noticing the horse and rider until he was already among them. The horse moved through the knot of soldiers slowly, the still form of a man draped over the horse he led. The soldier on the horse eyed Aeden warily as he approached. Aeden's fury nearly claimed him as the torchlight revealed enough of the still man's clothing for Aeden to recognize his father. An arrow still protruded from the body; Aeden could just see the top half of the fletched shaft.

Fianna turned at his look, gasping as she too recognized the body. She could see that Gareth was atop his own horse, and that the soldier was one of the two recently dispatched to search. She backed up to Aeden, hoping still to curb his revenge, just as the rider turned the horse so that they could clearly see the body.

The sight before them was so surprising that Aeden lowered his sword, the fire of his anger dying in a breath. There lay his father, propping himself up to see his son when one arm, while gingerly holding the arrow that had pierced his right buttock with the other.

"Son, would you mind allowing someone to get this arrow out of my arse?" Gareth asked, so nonchalantly that it was easy to forget that the arrow in his backside was a serious injury.

Fianna and Gareth both laughed out loud. Soon the soldiers and the people of Bretharc had joined in, and the wave of relief that swept over everyone drew Aeden along until he was laughing as well. Aeden had thought certain that his father was lost, and the surprising return drained away the last of his anger.

Fianna, aware that the danger was now past, moved quickly to expedite the final phase of the rescue. Issuing orders like a seasoned veteran she had several soldiers retrieve the ferry, while more were sent to recover supplies and weapons. The remainder aided the former prisoners in gathering their scant possessions and loading the sick and elderly onto the ferry.

In half an hour the ferry was laden with all the food and people it could carry, and they set off to cross the newly formed lake before the waters rose too high to cross for those that remained afoot. Even as they pulled the ferry across towards the steep slope that led to the forest road, the village healers worked on Gareth, whose good natured jests only stopped for the moment when they pulled free the barbed head of the arrow.

Aeden listened to his father's banter wondering where they man had come from. He couldn't believe that the simple pig farmer that had raised him was the same man who had single-handedly planned a rescue, assaulted a garrison with a flaming battering ram, and now joked with the healers about how he was "really showing his arse now."

For that matter, how did the village healers, who as far as Aeden knew had never treated an injury worse than a hog bite, know how to treat arrow wound with such practiced skill? By the time the ferry was made fast to the shore, the evacuees had returned with the troops from the new dam. Once Commander Iollan had briefed his returning men, they regarded Aeden with some wonder, and made their pledge to serve Fianna. Fianna was getting frustrated with the time that was wasted on formalities, but at least with the garrison under her command there was no need to make hard decisions about who had to be left behind.

At dawn, she mounted her horse and led her new force into the deep forest escorting the ragtag band of refugees that were now her responsibility. For much of the morning they moved so slowly that Fianna wondered if they would ever reach the hills before they were set upon by enemies. She was casting about for a place to halt and give the injured a much needed rest when they were discovered.

Iollan was trying to put her mind at ease for the third time since the dawn, explaining that they were making very good time with their refugees, when one of the scouts sounded the alarm.

"Hooded riders closing on our position from the rear, sir!" yelled one the veteran soldiers that served as Iollan's second in command.

"How many?" Iollan asked, already moving to gather men and weapons.

"Uncertain sir, but at least a score" came the reply.

Fianna's fledgling hopes failed her utterly. A score or more of these dark priests would be their end. Not even Aeden could hope to stand against so many.

"Commander, put an escort with the refugees, and have the balance arrange whatever defenses you think best" Fianna ordered.

Iollan turned to Aeden. "Do you think you could topple that big oak there across that narrow ravine at the top?"

Aeden nodded, having already concluded that the commander's chosen defensive line was their best option, and spurred his horse forward up the hill. He had his own plan for defending the refugees but it almost certainly wouldn't remove the threat entirely. He could only hope that it would give them a fighting chance. It took only a moment to topple the giant oak tree across the road once the last of the refugees had passed, and as soon as the task was finished he rode laterally along the ridge, intending to find another ravine in which he could skirt the attackers flank. His plan was simple. Wait until the dark robes stopped to threaten the defenders, then attack from the rear, killing as many as he could. Perhaps if he managed to slay enough of them his friends would escape.

Fianna watched as Aeden rode out of sight. She knew what he was doing and though usually his brash actions infuriated her, this time she thought it might be the only chance that they had to save the refugees. She had little time to ponder however, as the sound of dozens of hoof beats could be heard upon the road, thundering toward their makeshift defenses.

The majority of her soldiers assembled behind the barricade swiftly, while a squadron with Iollan leading them hid themselves in the brush on the uphill side of the trail. Their enemies might win through and carry the day, but they were going to pay a price in blood. As Fianna and her group engaged the enemy head on from behind their barricade, Iollan's force would flank them giving them a tactical advantage for all the good that might do. With Aeden coming at the enemy from his own vantage point as well, perhaps they would get lucky, or at least they might cause sufficient havoc to allow the refugees the chance of escape.

Moments later the line of riders came into view, galloping up the road two abreast, and immediately Fianna knew that they were facing something unexpected. The riders hurtling toward them, robes billowing in the wind, were indeed wearing hooded robes, but not in the black robes of their adversaries. The white and gray robes of druids were what they wore and Fianna's hopes rose. She knew this could be a ruse, but if it were she could not divine its purpose. Surely the enemy would not expect her to order her men to stand down based on the clothing alone, did they?

The riders drew up short, perhaps thirty yards from the barricade. The dense brush around the trail here would make circumventing their barricade take at least several minutes on horseback; minutes in which they would be completely exposed to the hail of arrows that would rain from behind the big oak. The enemy would have little choice but to attack or retreat, yet these riders did neither. At a signal from the leader, they held their ground while he and one other approached slowly. If the was a trick, Fianna vowed, these two would be the first to die.

Both of the approaching riders extended their right hands in a gesture of peace. They were perhaps twenty feet from the barricade when they reigned in their horses. "I would have expected a warmer greeting from such a dear friend" Riordan said, lowering his hood and casting a wry smile at a much stunned Fianna.

Fianna quickly disciplined herself, shouting "Aeden, it is Riordan! Do not attack!"

Riordan blanched slightly, realizing too late that the defenders on the road were not the only hazard in these woods. Iollan brought his flanking force out of hiding just as Aeden galloped up the path. Even with their power, many of the druids might well have died had they actually engaged an enemy. Riordan realized that he needed to educate himself in strategy before leading his order into combat.

"Well met Riordan" Aeden greeted him, grinning with youthful exuberance that he had not felt in some time.

"Aeden, you are still lurking about with that oversized pig skinner I see" Riordan replied as they clasped hands.

The reunion was short lived however; as the druid that had come forward with Riordan was introduced and she began to weepily to ask about some children.

"There were some few people, including some children, not of Bretharc among those rescued, but we have not had the time to talk to them" Fianna informed her.

"Please, can someone take me to them?" she begged, tears openly streaming down her face. Aeden looked at Riordan, who nodded, and told the aging druidess to follow him. Together they skirted the felled oak, and in minutes were galloping down the road in pursuit of the fleeing refugees.

Riordan and Fianna led their respective groups at a more sedate pace, catching up and exchanging information about their adventures since they had parted ways. When Riordan was done explaining about the conclave she looked at him in surprise.

"And you appointed her to the high council after what she did?" she asked incredulous.

Riordan smiled ruefully. "You aren't the first to doubt my decision on the matter. Sianna was forced to hide the truth because of some of the more archaic rules of our order. Rules I intend to see amended. Like many of our order she had lost faith; not just in our leaders, but also in the gods, justice, and all the other things that she had long held sacred. I am certain that what has transpired has restored her in a way that she shall not lose heart so easily again. After you and Aeden, and Finnis of course, she is my most trusted ally."

Fianna wasn't sure that she could have been so forgiving, but the order was now Riordan's responsibility, just as Iollan and his men were hers. She was saved from confronting the meaning of that thought when they suddenly came upon the refugees. They had stopped to await the coming of the soldiers and druids. In the center of a knot of bystanders they could see Sianna kneeling, her arms wrapped around two young boys, professing her gratitude loudly to the people of Bretharc for watching over her grandchildren. Fianna knew that her praise and thanks were embarrassing to her people, not because they didn't appreciate it, but because they had simply done what was right.

Fianna ordered their camp set up on the spot, and Riordan dispatched his druids to aid the people in any way that they could. He asked the leaders of each group to meet with him after everyone was settled and had a warm meal. Once everyone was busy bustling with their duties he pulled Aeden and Fianna to a fire away from the others.

"Before we plan for the future we have some bad news to deliver" he told them. None of them had looked forward to telling this tale, but it had to be done. Quinn's family took the news quiet well, as well as anyone could. His father had held his mother as she cried and the older siblings comforted the younger.

As it turned out, Teagan's father was far more animated and difficult to explain things too, and she was as safe as anyone could be in these trying times. He refused to believe that she was with Lord Donegal's army and for a time was hysterically convinced that they were in some way deceiving him. Only when Curt came over and made him calm down did he finally stop behaving hysterically and hear out the rest of their story.

Aeden was relieved when finally they managed to extricate themselves from the gathering of people from his home who had all come to hear the story of their young heroes from the new High Druid and Fianna. Her account of how his father had played such an instrumental role in the rescue had Gareth blushing and stammering as he tried to sit up in a dignified manner despite his recent and humbling injury. Aeden himself had sat quietly through the telling. The villagers had eyed him suspiciously as he sat holding the sword that had played a crucial role in so much of the tale. The Morrighan was a soldier's goddess, and farmers distrusted her at best.

The three found themselves in a war council of sorts straight away. Iollan was there along with Finnis, Sianna, and a man none of them knew who was the mayor of Longford, and to Aeden's surprise his father attended as well. Gareth had to be propped up on some blankets but he acted as though his ordeal was nothing more than an exciting romp to share at a picnic.

"Dad, you should be resting" Aeden said moving over to sit near him.

"I'll rest soon but as the duly elected representative of Bretharc Village, I am required to attend emergency planning meetings, and who better to keep an eye on me and my health than three druid adepts?" His father asked.

Aeden had little time to ponder his father's elevation in the community however; for no sooner had he gotten settled than the meeting was begun. Riordan began by explaining that what was happening locally was just part of what was happening on the world stage. A few of the happenings that Riordan had discovered in distant lands were news even to him, and he was quickly caught up in the narrative.

When Riordan finished, the mayor of Longford stood looking angrily at Aeden, and demanded to know if he and his people were going to be compensated for the loss of their homes and livelihoods. He was incensed that their town was now at the bottom of a lake. He was growing more and more agitated, and Aeden was waiting on either the commander or one of the older druids to intervene, but no one moved. He was about rise and confront the man himself when Riordan took charge.

"You expect damages?" How about your responsibility to the village of Bretharc and your complicity in a foreign invasion? If we are defeated, the king will no doubt try you as traitors and if we are victorious your damages are an act of war or technically an act of the gods" Riordan said angrily.

"He was the one that dammed the river!" he said, pointing at Aeden as he shouted the accusation so violently that spittle flew from his lips.

"Exactly" Riordan said, clearly trying to turn the conversation to more important matters.

"Blasphemy! This upstart is no god or even the bastard progeny of one" he screamed.

Aeden moved to rise, but before he could Riordan was on his feet, his staff glowing brightly with a sheen of unmistakable power. "Who are you to question accuse the High Druid of blasphemy? You, who know nothing, accept how to talk your own people out of a fat and cushy life. Hold your tongue and your crime may yet be forgiven, speak again and I will pronounce judgment!" Riordan returned in a voice made harsh with barely repressed rage. Aeden was impressed; his soft-spoken friend's voice had taken on the hard edge of one whose resolution was absolute.

The mayor of Longford sat down in a huff. Aeden could tell that he was a man used to getting his way and unaccustomed to being ordered to silence. Riordan's outburst of righteous anger had put an end to his ill-advised complaining, but Aeden felt certain that he was someone on which they needed to keep watch. His tirade had diverted the meeting from its real purpose, which was to plan for the care of the refugees and explain to inform everyone present of the steps underway to secure the kingdom.

There was much discussion of how to proceed; how to divide their forces, and which paths to take, and almost everyone had a different idea. Fianna felt that their first duty was the to the refugees, but Finnis iterated that unless the war was ended soon and in their favor the entire north would soon be refugees, just as those in the south were enslaved to a tyrant and his foreign bullies.

The discussion went back and forth, seeming to go nowhere until Aeden felt a pull at his shoulder. Gareth was pulling himself to his feet. So far he had said nothing, but now it was clear that he intended to speak. "Listen to me, all of you. You seem to think that we of Bretharc are helpless victims, but you have no idea of what we are capable of. I need no more than four days ration and two able bodied men to aid those of us who will be defending the village should it come to that. There is food and shelter in Bretharc and if the battle draws close we have the advantage of knowing our homes and lands if we must avoid the king's men. Take the rest of your forces and go put an end to this!"

It was a bold speech and none there gathered could bring themselves to argue. Fianna clearly didn't want to leave them behind once more, but the demands of the entire kingdom outweighed the needs of one village. There was some muttering, but in all it was accepted that if the village leader suggested the plan, concerns for their safety could not be used to justify refusing it.

That was the moment that Aeden noticed the absence. The old fat mayor of Longford was no longer among them. There horses at the far end of the encampment were making excitable noises as Aeden bolted from the meeting and ran that way. He wasn't sure how or why but he felt almost as if the horse were answering his silent question about the Longford man's whereabouts.

Even in the deepening gloom of the night Aeden could just see the man clambering onto Aeden's own horse, and he was incensed. He couldn't let the man get away! He was surely planning to sell out their people with his knowledge of their plans, and it was imperative that he not make contact with the enemy. Before he could shout a warning to the guards posted around the encampment, the horse suddenly started bucking wildly as though it had gone mad, and the mayor of Longford was thrown to the ground.

The man landed in a heap and by the time Aeden could sprint to the pickets, guards had already surrounded the man. Though they had no idea what had transpired the event was sufficiently unusual to attract their attention. When Aeden arrived the man was not trying to rise or even to move but he was speaking.

"Tell your men to release me! I will not be restrained like this!" he demanded.

The guardsmen, none of whom were even within reach of the man looked at Aeden; it was obvious to all but the man himself that he was paralyzed, his neck broken in the fall. Aeden sent a guard for Fianna and Riordan then moved to crouch over the man.

"So, you meant to sell us to the dark robes or the king?" he whispered quietly.

The fear in the man's eyes was clear, but he refused to speak. Aeden considered pulling his sword and carving some answers from the traitorous man, but the man would be unlikely to feel much now, and cutting on him might well finish him off. This was a job that required finesse and that meant letting the druids have him.

Moments later the impromptu council arrived, with Fianna and a full squadron of her troops at their backs. Riordan had them form a circle around the scene to keep everyone else away, and Sianna approached the man. Riordan must have known what was coming, for he turned to the gathering crowd and using all the authority he could muster, he told them that their mayor had attempted to betray them and was now being questioned by the druids.

There were some murmurs of dissent until Gareth spoke, saying that he would like to meet the villagers of Bretharc and the townsfolk of Longford to discuss their short term needs and how they might all work together to achieve them. His obvious lack of resentment towards the townsfolk of Longford seemed to comfort many of those assembled. The crowd slowly dispersed, moving in a mulling herd back toward the center of the encampment.

By now the people of Longford appeared more broken than those of Bretharc that had been held so long in such terrible conditions, and it filled Aeden with a renewed sense of respect for these simple farmers whom he had known his entire life, apparently never truly knowing them at all. As his father began sharing his vision of moving them all back to Bretharc, at least until the crisis had passed, the villagers of Bretharc nodded their encouragement of the plan as many from Longford openly wept with gratitude at the generosity of their neighbors.

When Aeden returned his attention to Sianna and the mayor, he was surprised that she had already begun to work on him. She had a hand on his brow, and another on his abdomen, and Aeden could both feel and see the power extending into the man, causing his paralyzed nerves to twitch and jerk. The look on Sianna's face was grim but determined and the mayor was screaming silently in in agony.

After several more seconds of this magical interrogation, Sianna relented her outpouring of power. "Who were you going to see? What do you know of these black sorcerers?" Sianna hissed in his ear.

"I know you are just as bad as they are" he said, his breath a wheezing sound.

"Oh no, I assure you that for anyone whose actions threatens my grandchildren I am much, much worse" she replied, sending her power redoubled into him.

Aeden had never seen the power of the druids used in such a way. Then again, not so long ago, he'd thought their powers limited to blessings and fertility rites. The mayor's writhing body gave mute testimony to the agonies being inflicted upon it, and Aeden wondered if the torture he witnessed wouldn't kill the man as surely and quickly as his blade would have.

"The magic won't let him die until she decides" Finnis whispered to him quietly, as though he had been reading Aeden's thoughts.

Sianna withdrew her power once more. "Are you ready to talk?" Even as she asked the question she began to extend her power once again, although this time very slowly. The mayor's eyes showed the pure panic that possessed him and he emitted a squeaking whimper. Sianna withdrew her power once again and looked at him pointedly. The message was clear, speak and speak the truth, or this would continue indefinitely. The man was no hero; in fact he was quite the coward.

At first his words were cracked and broken, but as he began his tale the words and the story came easier. "These black robes as you call them are known in their own lands as the Sorginak and they serve the goddess Mari. The are from the lands south of Gaul, where only she and her consort, Sugoi, are the last remaining gods of that land. It is the will of Mari to rule the world, and her priestesses work day and night to forward her goal. You have not encountered their like yet, but you will. Those you have faced thus far have been nothing more than the lesser minions of these witch queens. There are three of these queens and each is said to have more power than any of our gods."

"And what did you do for them?" Sianna asked, clearly annoyed by his answer.

"I was a liaison for the chief consort of Yani, the witch queen dispatched to conquer our lands and destroy our gods. You may think you can win, but Gaul is already in their control, and our gods could not lift a finger to stop her. I am just a messenger, but when I fail to report, the consort will be seeking me. That will lead him straight to you. You will all perish in the flames of his power." The venomous tone with which he spat this last out suggested that he knew he was not going to survive this.

Sianna looked up at Finnis who nodded. "He is but a fool and a puppet misled by his own desire for power forever denied him. Give him mercy, undeserved as it is" Finnis instructed quietly. Sianna's power flared anew only this time it was different; not bringing pain and torment but instead effusing the mayor with peace even as it snuffed out the candle of his life.

"We must prepare. Let us set the refugees upon their path and cover the signs of their passage and then we will discuss how best to proceed" Riordan said from just behind them.

The Breaking Storm

It had taken much of the next day to get the refugees on their way and cover the signs of their passing. Gareth was to lead them on a circuitous route to Bretharc, staying to the forests to keep from sight, and Riordan had sent a pair of the younger druids with him despite protests to help as needed.

Fianna had sent scouts back to Longford and around the newly formed lake to determine if indeed the king's forces were somewhere on the opposite shore as the rumors claimed. Riordan had sent another of his druids north to get word to Lord Donegal of what was happening. As they waited for the return of the scouts they took council on what they had learned from the mayor.

"He was fooled by a few tricks and fed lies he wanted to believe" Aok commented making a rude sound.

"Perhaps, but I have met these Sorginak in combat Aok" Riordan said, "and we would do well not to underestimate their powers."

The discussion went on for hours among the learned druids, intensifying each time one of the scouts reported in, dropping to a lull when no new information was forthcoming. When the hour came for the last remaining scouts to have reported in, the entire contingent fell silent as the darkness fell with still no word from the four scouts who had been sent around the lake. The tension mounted with each passing moment as minute after minute passed in silent contemplation.

Riordan was considering what the absence of the returning scouts could mean when they heard a horse approach. At first the sentries thought perhaps the horse was riderless, but as it came within the light of their torches they could all see the rider slumped forward over the horses back, an arrow piercing the left side of his back. The wound was deep and the red foam around his nose and mouth suggested that it had pierced a lung.

Fianna reached him first; Aeden and Finnis were close behind. "He's alive, but just" she exclaimed. Finnis lay a hand on the man's back gently and after a moment the man's eyes fluttered open.

"General Fianna, the king's army is just beyond the lake. They are setting up a floating bridge now, just north of Longford, and may be on this side of the river by noon tomorrow. There are dozens of the black robes driving them on, and it appears the king has mustered the entire south" the scout warned. No sooner had he finished speaking than he slumped forward and slid from the horse into Fianna's arms. With literally his last breath he had delivered his warning and then died.

Aeden wanted to crack a joke about "General Fianna" but the situation called for more tact. Besides, the dying man had used the term so seriously that he had most certainly meant it. If her troops were calling her general, what did they think she was general of?

His reverie about this novel title was cut short by the flurry of furious activity resulting from the report. No one was waiting for the remaining scouts return now, and no one seemed to expect now that they would. Fianna and sent Iollan to break camp and form up the troops, while Riordan gathered the druids, and held an impromptu meeting. Aeden felt utterly left out of the preparations as those assembled broke camp and were ready for the rode in minutes.

Riordan caught Aeden's look and recognized both opportunity and need. Only Aeden could ride like the wind in full darkness and reach Lord Donegal in time to insure that his army was prepared for what was coming. He didn't even seem to recognize the effect he had on animals, but even the most stubborn beast would run till its heart gave out for him.

"Aeden, I need you to carry a message to Lord Donegal tonight. He will need to know what to expect before sunrise if his force is to be ready. I can't be sure that the enemy doesn't already have an advance force on this side of the river, and anyone else I send might not be able to break through their lines" Riordan said.

Aeden suspected that he was being patronized, but there was also some truth in what his friend said. Riordan took a moment to scribble notes to both Donegal and Kian, the senior druid in charge of those attached to the northern army. Sealing them with wax into which he pressed the signet ring he now wore, he handed them to Aeden along with a ring that identified him as a druid messenger.

"This message instructs the druids to follow you until I arrive. I intend to force the Sorginak to face us in mass and we will need you and your sword if their power is even half of what the pompous mayor claimed" he informed Aeden.

"I'll see it done" Aeden said relieved to have something useful to do. Swinging easily up onto his mount, he galloped off in the night. It shouldn't be hard to beat the rising sun to Lord Donegal's camp, but he would take no chances.

He had noticed that his senses were far more acute sense his near death experience. He seemed to be able to see in darkness, and it seemed he could feel the animals of the forest moving all around him, but he hadn't had time to explore these senses with all that had been happening. He was less than half a mile into the forest his newly awakened senses brought him to a halt. Confused by this new feeling he eased himself from his mount and moved forward slowly. At the edge of the forest he could just discern a figure in a dark robe. He could feel a thrum of intense power coming from the figure and he knew that the stranger could sense his own power as well.

At first he had only felt the power when actively in use and while holding his sword, but lately he had begun to feel it with or without the weapon in hand. Whoever was here was powerful in a way that even Riordan could not match. If this was one of the Sorginak, then the druids and their allies were outmatched, for the power that he sensed was vast.

Dropping the reins, Aeden crept forward, thinking that if this creature had not yet noted his exact location he might get one chance at a surprise attack. He'd gone no more than ten paces, his sword still sheathed, when the robed figure turned to face him.

"That's no way to be looking at your grandmother" the Morrighan said, laughing.

Her comment brought him out of the strange state of turmoil his mind had wondered into, but her appearance did nothing to help him formulate a response. The Morrighan was enjoying his discomfort and took the opportunity to make him squirm.

"It's ok; I'm not really your grandmother, at least not in the usual sense, so there would be no familial barriers. If it's my age that worries you I'm older than the race of men but can appear to be any age you might desire" she said, making Aeden more and more uncomfortable.

As if to illustrate her point, the Morrighan transformed effortlessly into a stunning girl of approximately Fianna and Teagan's age through immortally beautiful to behold. Before he even finished drinking in the beauty of the creature in front of him she changed once more, this time into a visage like that of an elderly wise woman. The transformation was startling and abrupt, and it passed away just as quickly to be replaced with the appearance he had first recognized as the goddess of war.

Aeden shook his head slowly, focusing his mind on the task he had to perform. "I've got work to do grandmother" he said.

"You do indeed. I've come to claim my Champion."

"But, grandmother, this is important!" Aeden exclaimed, fearful of failing his friends. He had to get the message through to Donegal.

"You will get to deliver those messages that have you so worried in the course of doing my bidding boy" the Morrighan said, her irritation growing. "You will also deliver one for me."

"What message would you have me deliver grandmother?" Aeden asked, willing to do whatever she asked, relieved to know that he would get to complete the task he had been asked to do.

The Morrighan looked cold and commanding. "No mortal can lead the armies of the north to victory in this fight. Donegal and Riordan must withdraw as soon as the king's army takes the field. You will face the armies of the king and the Sorginak alone, and anyone who remains upon the field when you meet them will perish. The true sons of Eire must not fall. Tell them both this and meet your destiny Aeden son of Aine."

As the Morrighan's meaning soaked into his weary head, Aeden accepted that his fate was sealed. He was to sacrifice himself for the good of all Eire. "Will my friends be safe and our land be made whole once more if I do this?"

"Yes lad" spoke a new voice from just behind him as a big hand came to rest on his shoulder. The Dagda himself was clapping him on the back.

"Then I will do it" Aeden said, sad that he would be leaving his friends, but with a sense that this was what he was intended for from birth.

"Good lad" the Dagda told him, handing him a small ornate cauldron. "When you go forth to meet the enemies of our land, place this cauldron upon the earth, and stand before it. To invoke its power simply place the tip of your sword within it and call upon the gods of this land. When you have done that, the necessary magic will be wrought. Make certain the Sorginak are upon the field before you invoke the magic, and victory will soon follow."

"I will see it done" Aeden vowed turning to find his horse already within arm's reach as though the beast was anticipating his need.

As Aeden raced off once more through the trees the Dagda watched him go, his expression forlorn.

"You allowed him to believe he was a sacrifice?" the Morrighan asked a hint of rebuke in her voice.

"He needs to believe that" replied the Dagda. "It will strengthen his resolve and make the power that much easier to invoke. Even if the mistress of these Sorginak breaks the laws of our kind, we may not. We cannot enter into open war with men, but these Sorginak are the offspring of gods and they and those who serve them we can fight. We need the boy to open the way so that we can come against them to save Eire."

"I understand that, but why not tell the boy?" the Morrighan asked, her tone now suggesting curiosity more than concern.

"Because I need to know if he has the strength for what will come after. This is not the last battle that we face in this war, and he alone among us can take the fight to our enemy" the Dagda said, and as he said it both of these gods of Eire faded into the night.

Aeden had little time to concern himself with how to convince Lord Donegal of the need to follow the plan the Dagda had described. His first thought was to avoid the risk of failure in that regard, and go straight to the Sorginak, assailing them himself without ever putting friend or ally in harm's way, but considering what he knew he realized the Dagda was right. The best way to concentrate the Sorginak in one place was to make them think victory was one battle away. He needed them all in one place to unleash this weapon upon them, and the combined might of Donegal's army and the druids was the only sure way to make that happen. Even with the numbers that he had slain, admittedly with help, the Sorginak were sure to underestimate him and send only a portion of their forces against him if he tried to take them on singlehandedly.

Riordan's ring got him past the pickets and he was taken immediately to a short stocky druid named Kian, who read the message from Riordan and led him straight away to Lord Donegal. Donegal was a bear of a man, who shook his head repeatedly as he read and reread the note.

"If times weren't strange enough already" he muttered. Looking at Aeden appraisingly he asked, "are you aware of the contents of this message?"

"No sir" Aeden replied, "but I have another message to deliver from the Dagda himself."

"According to this you are the Morrighan's Champion, so you also serve the Dagda now?" Donegal said his tone neutral.

"I serve the people of Eire sir" Aeden replied, instinctively recognizing that this was the response that would most please Lord Donegal.

"Well, I can say that had not young Riordan the full support of every druid of the north I would not even consider the instructions contained in this letter. It is not my habit to turn over my command to anyone, much less a youngster no matter his patronage. I trust our young High Druid enough to know that you are no untried pup, but this request still borders on the ludicrous. These men gathered here are my responsibility and I am loath to relinquish it" Donegal informed Aeden and Kian.

"Sir, if you will hear out the Dagda's message, I believe that you will find that the High Druid's message has become moot" Aeden told him.

"I'm listening" Donegal replied, clearly eager to have an alternative to turning over his command to Aeden or refusing the High Druid's request.

When Aeden finished explaining the message and the particulars of what was required, Donegal stared at him for quite some time, pondering the young man before him. He wondered what Aeden might have become in less trying times, and decided that man or godling; Aeden was someone worth believing in. Finally he asked the question that he felt he had to ask. "Are you sure you want to go through with this plan?"

"If it will save as many lives as I believe it will and protect our land from these sorcerous villains who wish to enslave it then I will do what I must" Aeden replied, not at all certain that he was ready, but knowing that it had to be done.

"Very well then, I will do my part and order the retreat as soon as you give the signal" Donegal replied. Privately he thought that Eire could do just fine without its gods, but these foreign ones sounded much worse.

By nightfall Riordan's group arrived in the camp. They had been forced to fight running battles all day against both the king's soldiers and the henchmen of the Sorginak. The Sorginak queen herself was staying out of sight for the moment and were it not for the Dagda's own assurances, Aeden would have had serious doubts about the likelihood of even this plan bringing her to the field.

"I told you that offering yourself up as the Morrighan's Champion would cost you dearly" Fianna raged as Aeden shared the plan with her and Riordan. Through he had tried to downplay the personal danger in this effort, both of them had seen right through him, just as they always had.

Riordan would normally have interceded to divert some of Fianna's wrath, but this time he couldn't do it. As the High Druid of the all of the Gaels, it was his duty to represent and commit to the will of the gods, but those same gods were asking his friend to throw away his life. It made no sense. "Fianna is right, neither the Morrighan nor even the Dagda himself have the right to ask this of you!"

"This is the only way to save Eire. You know what these creatures are capable of; our people will be subjugated as little more than slaves. I have a job to do, one that I was born to do, and so do each of you. Now will you do your job and support me in mine or not?" Aeden demanded, giving each a look to let them understand his determination.

Riordan put his hands up in a placating gesture. "You may rest assured that when you give the signal, I will order my people to retreat as planned" he said.

Aeden looked pointedly at Fianna who had fallen silent and was looking thoughtfully at Riordan. Turning to Aeden finally she said "as I shall order my company to retreat. This may well be the stupidest thing you have ever done, which is saying something, but I will give the order."

With that, each went their separate way. Aeden sat quietly in his tent for a time, before going to visit Faolan.

"Teagan and I are getting married!" Faolan announced his excitement effusive and contagious. Despite, or perhaps because of, what was expected of him on the morrow, Aeden found the simple joy of spending a few quiet hours alone, talking of the past and Faolan's future to be the best use of what he believed to be his last day among the living. He didn't know what happened to a god or half-god when they died, but he was glad of the chance not to spend his hours wondering.

Aeden was surprised at how much his friend had grown in the short weeks they had been apart. There was a time when Aeden would have laughed heartily at the suggestion that Faolan and Teagan would be together, but now he realized what Teagan must have already come to know; Faolan was a man of worth and a boy no longer. Apparently, he had been recruited for some project of the druids when the war was over, which would keep him close to Teagan as she finished her studies as a druid healer.

As he and his oldest and closest friend parted ways for what Aeden was sure was the last time, he felt even more certain that he was making the right choice. Of the companions from the village of Bretharc, all had bright futures just waiting on this crisis to end. Aeden on the other hand had neither planned for nor thought beyond the adventure that he had sought. Though it made him a bit melancholy to consider, he accepted that of his friends, he was the most expendable.

"It is the greatest gift I can give my friends" he thought as he wondered through the soldier's camp. He was almost back to his tent when a familiar face moved in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. Teagan was wearing a look more stern than he would have thought possible.

"I am holding you accountable for his safety tomorrow" she said in a voice colder than the winter winds on the northern sea.

"I'll see him returned to you safe" he said, determined to make it so. "After that I'm holding you accountable for taking good care of him."

As he walked around her and on toward his tent, he could feel Teagan's calculating stare upon him. The girl he had once thought to be a pretty face with an empty head no longer existed. He knew that she was sorting through what he had said and could only hope that would not make Faolan aware of what his revelation suggested. If she was half as intelligent as he'd come to believe her to be, she wouldn't.

The Cauldron of Fire

Dawn broke over the land to find two of the largest armies in the history of Eire facing one another across a great bowl of land ringed in hills. Aeden stood ready with Riordan and Fianna flanking him and nearly twelve thousand sons and daughters of Eire at their back. Donegal stood to one side with his senior commanders, and from the looks they were throwing toward Aeden, Donegal must have been explaining what was to occur.

On the other side of them were the druids, at least those that were not among the troops as healers and support. Despite the massacres and the hunt of the past two years, Aeden was pleased to note that even if they had not the additional druids of Caledonia and Albion to swell their numbers, the druids of Eire still counted in the hundreds. When the battle began it was difficult to imagine that they should need the gods intervention, yet as the light fell upon the far hills, Aeden could easily tell they were outnumbered more than two to one.

Lord Donegal mounted his big stallion, and the three companions did the same, falling in to ride for the traditional parley that none among them believed would prevent the coming battle. Across the valley came the king's representatives and both parties met at a place equidistant from the two armies, which fate had decreed be fertilized with the blood of the fallen.

The king himself had ridden forth to the surprise of everyone. He was a young king, barely into his middle years and Aeden was surprised to see that he looked aged much more than his years. Selling one's kingdom and people to the scions of some foreign god was evidently hard on one's constitution Aeden thought.

The other three that trailed the king were of far greater concern. All three wore the robes marking them as Sorginak. Two were men of large and powerful build, but behind them rode a slender built woman, if her delicate hands were any indication. Despite her lack of physical presence Aeden could feel the dark power wrapping her in a cocoon of magic that seemed to be without limit. Aeden had never experienced such a display of force, and he knew that he had finally met the Sorginak queen.

So finally, he faced one of the three he sought, careful not to let his gaze rest on any one of the approaching riders overlong. Glancing at Riordan, he saw the expression of recognition on his friends face and was heartened to know that another besides himself could sense their true enemy.

"Lord Donegal" the king remarked in a tone of feigned good humor, "bit of a large party for a boar hunt isn't it?"

Lord Donegal was in no mood to bandy works with a man who had betrayed everything he was supposed to protect. "These are our terms, your majesty. Join us, and set right the heinous wrongs of the past few seasons; beginning with running these dogs into the sea" he said, pointing at the robed figures. "Restore the gods of our people and their priests to the position of honor that is their due, or be numbered among the enemies of Eire" he rumbled.

The king rocked back in his saddle as though Donegal had slapped him. He was clearly confused and Aeden wondered if indeed the king had any understanding of what had been done in his name. Perhaps this enemy queen had spelled him in some way. Before the king could form a response to Donegal's demands, the slender Sorginak pushed her horse to the front, placing a hand on the king's arm and pulling back her dark hood with the other.

The creature under the hood looked to be no more than ten summers old, frail of form yet powerful and exotic of appearance. Milky translucent skin covered a gaunt face and wisps of white hair were knotted in intricate braids on the girls head.

When she spoke the Sorginak's voice was far too deep and old for the body from whence it issued. "Disband your army Lord Donegal and help your king to drive the druid scourge from this land" she hissed.

It was Donegal's turn to reel in his saddle as the subtle power that the queen of the Sorginak had laced into her words struck his mind. Aeden was quite certain that Donegal would have followed her instructions without hesitation had not Riordan not placed a steadying hand on the man's shoulder, calling forth power of his own to shield Donegal from the psychic assault.

"You see Donegal, this one would bewitch you" the Sorginak said redoubling her effort.

Though Riordan's power was able to ward off the attack on Donegal, it was obviously a strain upon him, and the Sorginak kept up the assault almost effortlessly, smiling knowingly at Riordan. Suddenly she broke off the attack on Donegal, bringing her full power to bear on Riordan who sagged in his saddle, overwhelmed by the colossal power she wielded. For a moment Aeden feared that his friend was lost, but the staff he carried flared to life, and though he was still paralyzed by her attack and unable to move or counter her, he held off her attack with an iron will that Aeden was proud to see in his friend. The druids had a leader that would not surrender to the dark magic ever.

Aeden's attention was now completely upon the two combatants, so it wasn't until he heard the twang of Fianna's bow and the almost simultaneous thud of a steel tipped arrow sinking into its target that he realized that something more was happening. Snapping his attention back to the others, he noticed that one of the Sorginak queen's minions was moving toward Riordan, slowly nudging his horse, while the other lay in a heap under his own horse with the shaft of a silver fletched arrow protruding from his skull. Reflexively, Aeden drew his sword and leaning in his saddle stabbed the second large Sorginak in the eye, killing him effortlessly.

"You see my king; what traitors we are faced with? Killing my men under flag of parley" the Sorginak said bitterly as she broke off her assault. Turning her horse she grasped the reins of the king's stallion with one hand, and then drew a small knife from insider her robes with the other. In one quick motion she slashed the king's arm deeply with the small knife and tossed it to the ground before galloping back toward the king's army. As she rode, she was screaming loudly "Traitors! They have assailed the king himself during parley!"

"Well, that was a setup" muttered Fianna.

"Aye, and now they will fight twice as hard" Donegal said. "Lad, I hope your plan works."

Donegal turned to ride back to the army awaiting him as planned. Aeden dismounted, setting the cauldron upon the ground and turned to drive away his horse. He was surprised to see it already running across the bowl toward the waiting army with Riordan and Fianna's mounts. The two were standing only a few feet away with the look of people prepared for an argument.

"We had an agreement; you gave me your word" Aeden said, exasperated.

"And we have honored that word, both the druids and Fianna's men have been ordered to retreat at the signal" Riordan said.

Fianna said nothing, instead demonstrating her intention by rapidly creating a semicircle of arrows, loosely stuck in the soil around her. Aeden realized that he'd been tricked into believing that they would agree abandon him to his fate. Before he could give voice to further protest the horns of the king's army blared in challenge, and the ground shook as thousands of men and horse thundered down the hill in a mad charge.

On the hill behind them, horns rang out in answer and a steady beat of war drums kept cadence as the army of the north marched over the rim of the bowl. This was the crucial moment, and Aeden had to turn his attention to the enemy. He had to be sure the Sorginak queen was among the advancing force before giving the signal.

"There!" Riordan shouted, as a great number of black robed riders broke from the chaos of the king's army. At the heart of the group of well over a hundred of the Sorginak their leader rode straight at the trio alone on the plain. Fianna's bow was singing furiously, and an officer in the king's army fell from his saddle each time her weapon thrummed.

Aeden's hair stood on end as the Sorginak horde gathered power and he prepared to complete his spell. He hated that his friends were here, he didn't want them to die with him, but at the same time it was comforting that they would stand with him. A tear of gratitude rolled down his cheek as he made ready to end the threat facing them.

He could feel the attack building before it came, and it was nearly too late when he realized that the combined might of the Sorginak was not directed at himself but rather at Riordan. Apparently, the Sorginak queen had erred in judgment, believing Riordan to be the threat after their encounter during the parley. Aeden didn't think; he acted. Leaping in front of his friend with Caladbolg held high, he caught the power of the spell upon the blade. The sword drank in the power, passing it through Aeden and into the earth. He became the conduit for immense power, and as it passed through him it burned him. Aeden could hear someone screaming as the combined power of hundreds of dark sorcerer's burned through him. Only when the cry had faded to a trembling gasp did he realize that it was he who had been screaming.

Riordan's hands flew up in a signal and the druids at the valleys rim began to gesticulating wildly as they brought their own magic to bear against the Sorginak. The ground shook, opening here and there to swallow riders and their mounts whole. Enormous roots erupted from the earth, tripping horses and causing large numbers of riders to be hurled from their mounts. Some of these were grasped by the prehensile roots and vines which constricted with such might that limbs and torsos alike were pinched in two. Druids whose specialty was weather magic sent bolt after bolt of lightning from the heavens crashing into the horde of Sorginak.

The onslaught of the druids was incredible, but not sufficient to turn the tide. Riordan knew that all was lost unless Aeden finished his task, so bracing himself he shouldered Aeden aside and took the assault upon his staff. The druids had mitigated much of the power of the Sorginak, and using his staff as a lightning rod rather than his own body he was able to ground out the attack. His hands, where he held the staff, were charred to a crisp, and in he was so burned that he could not even feel the pain anymore.

"Get it done" he shouted to Aeden who stood dazed from the lingering effects of the power he had channeled.

Fianna shook him. "It's now or never" she cried, "he can't hold much longer, and I am down to my last arrow."

Shaking his head to clear away the confusion Aeden turned to the cauldron, and summoning every remnant of power that he could, he completed the spell just as the Sorginak reached them. Fianna signaled the commanders on the hill behind and soldiers and druids alike turned and retreated at a run.

Aeden wasn't sure what to expect, but the little puff of steam from the cauldron was not it. He felt betrayed as the riders approached, mere feet away. He heard Fianna's bow sing a final note and the rider bearing down on him fell face first from his mount in the sod, inches from where he still knelt. He heard Fianna draw her small sword just as he heard Riordan grunt, and the power that had been holding back the tide of dark magic faltered.

Riordan was hurt or dead, and Aeden's rage boiled over. As the lion's share of the Sorginak's power now turned in him he rose and charged straight into the heart of the enemy force, intent upon killing the bitch that had caused so much pain.

Sorginak puppets threw themselves at him at first, and he slew them like straw dolls, hewing limbs, bodies, and heads. It wasn't until the mist overtook him, enveloping him and his enemies in a fog that shrouded the field and limited visibility to a few feet, that he realized that other powers had joined him in his fight to avenge the suffering of his friends, family, and land. No sooner had he become aware of the mist than the screaming began, and the sounds of combat surrounded him. Confused and uncertain, Aeden stood still looking for some indication of where to ply his simmering rage.

A figure in dark robes materialized from the mist, and Aeden narrowly checked his attack when he realized that the approaching figure was the Morrighan herself.

"It is a poor reflection upon me when my Champion is standing about looking lost during a battle" she said with mock severity, "this way."

She led him deeper into what had been the knot of Sorginak. The mist was already thinning and the cries had faded in large part. Bodies, hideously rent, were strewn everywhere and among them strode a host of creatures that were known to Aeden from the fairy tales of his youth. Gods, elves, and fey of all sorts moved through the mists, scanning the fallen for signs of life. The scene was surreal even in light of the adventures that he had faced since his Nameday.

When the Morrighan brought them to a halt he found himself beside her with the Dagda to his right and Ogma to his left. The three were watching the diminutive thrashing form of the Sorginak queen. Ogma's twin sons had stretched her out upon the ground, one holding her feet and the other pinning her arms over her head.

"My sisters will burn your entire country, you and your ignorant worshipers will perish as they raze the ground and bury your hollow hills" she ranted as she desperately fought to free herself.

The Morrighan looked to the other gods, who each in turn nodded. "It had been decided that you will carry a message to your sisters" the Morrighan said with a ghost of a smile upon her face.

"Then release me fool" the Sorginak queen screeched, her haughtiness returning along with hope.

"Oh I plan to" the Morrighan said, her smile growing broader as she moved to stand over the young woman. Reaching down, she grasped the girls head in both hands and looked into her eyes. "Perhaps it would have been more accurate of me to say that we are sending you to your sisters as a message. I don't suppose we need to send all of you though" she said as maniacal laughter burst forth from her lips. As recognition followed swiftly by fear dawned in the girls eyes the Morrighan stood, jerking upwards on the girls head. She pulled with such force that with a sickening rending sound she tore the Sorginak's head from her shoulders.

Holding the head of the Sorginak above her own she let out an ululating cry of victory. A banshee approached holding a young Sorginak in her talons. The Morrighan tossed the gore covered head at the young man's feet. "Tell your mistress's sisters that the Sidhe offer such welcome to any of their kind and that our kindred in Caledonia and Albion will be watching for them as well. Also, tell them that Gaul will be reclaimed so if they wish to live they should go and hide as far to the south as they may." The young man blanched but nodded his understanding. Clearly he had thought the Sorginak invincible, and the evidence at his feet had shattered this illusion.

The Morrighan turned to the banshee. "Set him upon his way with our message; let not his feet touch the soil of our land again."

The banshee scooped up the head in her other talon and winged away south, quickly disappearing in the distance. All the gods of Eire, greater and lesser alike, seemed to have gathered upon the battlefield, and among them walked every manner of fey that Aeden had ever heard of and some that he didn't recognize at all. The battle was over, and even as he watched many of the creatures were fading into the last of the mist that was all but gone now. Aeden could see that the king's army had not suffered nearly the losses that he had imagined they would, for it appeared that most of the men had turned heel and fled when the mist had enveloped the Sorginak horde.

Turning, he looked back across the field to where he and his valiant friends had made their stand, and a wave of relief swept through him when he saw Fianna, bloodied and hurt, but still supporting Riordan as they made their way toward him.

"I am sorrowful for the suffering you and your friends had to endure my son" the Dagda said. "We will do what we can to heal their wounds."

Ogma moved forward and was joined by a goddess that Aeden recognized as his mother. Together they intercepted Fianna and Riordan. Aeden could feel the healing magic they wove together flowing over his friends, healing their wounds and soothing them.

"I am glad you survived, and wish that it had not been necessary for you to believe otherwise. Of all the gods, only those born of mortals can interact freely with the realms of man, and then only until they pass beyond mortal life. We could not intercede in this directly without violating the ancient rules of our kind. Your willingness to sacrifice yourself for this land was the key to opening the way for all of us to come and the Sorginak assault upon you and your friends gave us the right" the Dagda informed him.

Aeden was just happy to be alive and that his friends who had borne so much still lived as well. This battle was over, but much was left to do, and there would still be much fighting ahead.

"Yes, unfortunately, you are right" the Dagda said proving that he was indeed privy to Aeden's thoughts. "We won't be able to aid you in this way again either. If the Sorginak attempt to enter Eire again we will know and act, but driving them from the lands of our brethren will be up to you and your allies. You may carry our talismans with you as you fight, but we may not leave this land, for we are bound to it."

The Dagda left him then and Aeden walked over to where his friends sat. His mother hugged him so tightly that he thought his ribs might crack, and Fianna was waiting right behind her to finish the job. Riordan was sitting close by talking softly with Ogma. His hands were charred but he didn't seem to be in pain. He looked over at Aeden and smiled. "It seems we have survived this fight my friend" he said.

Ogma rose, and gave a strange whistle. Almost instantly the twins appeared. "Bring the leaders together, we must mend the bond that has been broken between ourselves and our people" he told them and they seemed to simply vanish. Turning to Aeden he said "the Dagda has suggested that you sit with Riordan here as our representative in council, and I concur. Riordan will have enough to do with mediating the council, so you will directly represent the will of the gods of Eire." Aeden was unsure how to feel about this assignment, but when the god of knowledge and wisdom calls upon you, proclaiming you ready, it is unwise to disagree.

"I will prepare a place" Ogma said, "and then we shall depart, for this is the business of men."

Moments later, the field was clear of bodies and a great pavilion was set on the exact spot where the Sorginak queen had met her end. Inside the pavilion was an enormous wooden table in the form of a circle, and surrounding that were thirteen chairs.

King's Council

It had taken only minutes to prepare the place for the council; it had taken somewhat longer to assemble the participants and prepare security. Fianna had brought her troops to encircle the pavilion which upset some of the southern lords, many of whom were already upset to discover that they were to be excluded. The lords of each of the four provinces were to select a delegate to represent them. And the druids were to be represented by Finnis and Sianna, Riordan was to sit in as mediator, a job he would like to have given Sianna, but Ogma had forbidden it. Aeden and Fianna set on either side of Riordan and to Aeden's surprise Faolan was seated beside him.

Two the chairs remained empty, being set aside for members of the high council yet to be replaced. But the final seat was the biggest surprise of all. Aeden hardly recognized his father in the regal clothing he wore, and it was the slight limp in his step that first drew Aeden's attention. His father had risen far indeed to be offered place among the men of this table and it filled Aeden with pride once more. He had often thought it sad that his father had wasted his life as a simple pig farmer, but it seemed it was never too late to change one's fate. He couldn't understand why his father was here, but it was great to see him.

"Let us begin!" intoned Riordan, with a resonance to his voice that brought silence to the room. "The first order of business is to establish order in our land. And I believe that to do that we must first understand what brought us too this pass."

Riordan explained that the king had been duped through enchantment or bribery to betray his people and wage war against the very gods of Eire. Only the southern lords were unaware of this, but all listened to the tale as Riordan shared what he had gleaned from so many different sources, not the least of which was Ogma himself. When his tale was done, Lord Kildare of Leinster spoke. "We need not waste time seeking justice from the king for he is dead."

This statement brought stunned silence to the table. "How do you know this?" Lord Donegal enquired, asking the question on everyone's lips.

"He was determined to lead the charge, and I could not talk him out of it. I convinced him to wear the armor of one of my commanders at least as a precaution. I didn't want him to make of himself a target but it appears that it didn't make him any safer. I hadn't counted on a goddess of war striking him down from farther away than any man can shoot." Lord Kildare looked pointedly at Fianna, who blanched. She had brought down the tyrant unknowingly.

Lord Kerry of Munster spoke next. "I understand why it had to be done, but can we have peace with a king slayer in our land? Our laws are very specific about this."

Lord Roscommon of Connaught jumped to his feet. "We should be thanking the Lady for saving us the trouble."

Everyone at the table began speaking at once then and Aeden feared that pandemonium would ensue. Calmly rising, he looked at Riordan for permission to speak. When Riordan nodded he drew his sword and held it aloft, allowing the controlled rage of the Morrighan to wreath it in white fire. His friends at the table were not surprised by this display but the Lords fell silent, and the rest with them.

"Lords, ladies, druids of Eire and its allies, we are not here to squabble and fight. The fighting is over here, but the danger is not passed. We yet have trials to face. End the bickering, and let us move forward" he demanded in a tone as cold and cruel as the Morrighan in battle.

Aeden couldn't believe that he'd spoken in such a tone to the lords of the four provinces. It was a tone he imagined he might have used to scold children who were misbehaving. He looked to his father who had sat impassive at his chair, and was pleased to see the proud smile on Gareth's face.

Riordan stood, smoothly taking advantage of the silence gained by his friend's display of power, holding his staff gingerly in his burned hands. "To answer your concerns about the laws of Eire, Fianna here has accepted the post of druid high protector, making her subject to druid law, and not the law of any one land. To be honest when the business of this council is concluded, it may be a long time indeed before the druid high protector returns to Eire, if ever. With the king dead, we shouldn't concern ourselves with how the traitor died, but focus on the matter of succession."

Lord Roscommon looked at Riordan strangely. "The king had no living heirs. Succession is not a question; we need to a select a new line from the lords. That would be done at the lord's conclave during Yule."

"That is not entirely true" Gareth said. It was the first time he had spoken since the council began and Aeden was not the most surprised. "When old king Finbarr's wife drank the poison meant for him during the years when the Danes tried to take our eastern lands, he took steps to insure his line against other attempts. He needed his heir with him, for political reasons but he had another son from his second marriage, as most of you will remember. The story was put out that the child died in infancy, but the truth was that the prince, along with a several trusted retainers of the king's guard, their families, and a wet nurse were sent to the sleepy little village of Bretharc to keep the prince safe and anonymous to the enemies of the realm. I was given these to verify the child's paternity and lineage of the prince should the need arise" he said pulling out a worn leather satchel and laying out six sealed scrolls. "One each for the four high lords of the provinces, one for Mellan though Riordan will have to accept it in his place, and on for the prince himself should he be called upon to accept his father's throne.

I know not what is contained in these scrolls, but Finbarr placed them in my own hands just a little over fifteen years hence with instructions to pass them to the recipients only if the need arose. I believe it has."

"Who are you to have been so entrusted?" Lord Donegal asked, intrigued.

"Gareth Longford, second son of Aethelfirth Longford, and first sword of the king's guard of Finbarr the third" he replied.

Aeden sat back in his chair, completely caught unaware by this disclosure. He caught his father's eye for just a moment, and the look he saw their conveyed both regret and a promise of explanations to come.

Donegal studied him for a moment before turning to eye Aeden and his sword. "I see the resemblance, let us see what further proofs the old king would think to convince us with."

Gareth handed the scrolls to the lords and to Riordan. Each of the lords inspected the seal upon their scroll before breaking them to read the contents. Riordan read through the scroll he had been given, handing it to Finnis who scanned the writing looking surprised at what was written their but saying nothing.

Aeden watched the lords as they read the scrolls they had been handed. Lord's Kerry and Kildare looked amazed at what they read, Lord Donegal chuckled loudly at what was written, and to everyone's amazement and consternation Lord Roscommon rose and walked to a great brazier lit against the coming night and tossed in the scroll given him with a somber look.

"Roscommon, do you reject that this is the true king's will?" Donegal demanded an edge of challenge in his voice. It was clear that he at least was convinced.

"I do not Donegal, but I prefer that the proofs Finbarr left to me be for my eyes alone."

"And you gentlemen?" Donegal asked looking at the other recipients.

"Aye it is the will of Finbarr, and likely the only way to insure peace" said Lord Kerry.

"Let us have the young man brought in and crown him upon the morning sun" said Lord Kildare, his statement half jest and half question.

"Gareth of Longford, you have not yet revealed the identity of the prince. Are we to understand that he survived the traumatic events of the past few years? Many of those living in the village live no more" Riordan asked.

Gareth smiled. "He has not been in Bretharc since his Nameday almost two years hence. In fact, he left the same day you did."

Riordan looked at Aeden and the two of them stared at each other. Both knew he couldn't be referring to them, and Quinn was lost. Almost in perfect unison they asked "Faolan?"

"The very one" Gareth said, chuckling. "All the while the Sorginak tracked you two and Fianna, they failed to recognize that the true king of Eire was fighting alongside you. I believe that the people of Bretharc should be rewarded for doing their job so well."

Aeden couldn't believe that his best friend was heir to the king. Fianna smiled over at Faolan who was sitting, mouth open in shock, and punched Aeden in the shoulder. "Faolan was born to be king! All he ever wanted was to the friend of the great Aeden, and now he will rule all of Eire!" she said laughing like a drunken soldier.

Aeden wasn't sure why Fianna found this so funny, but he laughed along with her as he clasped his hand on Faolan's shoulder. Suddenly he had a sobering thought, "if the old king was his father, who is Curt?" he asked, wondering about the man who had raised Faolan as his own.

Aeden's own father looked at him for a moment as if weighing the reason for the question before saying "Curt is Lady Anne's brother and rightfully Faolan's uncle."

In short order the man Faolan knew as father was brought before the council. Curt said little, but stood behind Faolan, hands upon his shoulder as the council asked him to explain his part in the old king's plan. Aeden feared that Faolan might feint so ashen was his face. When it was finished he turned to Curt. "Thank you for being my father" he said hugging the man tight.

Lord Donegal rose, and walked before Faolan. With a speed belied by his great size, Donegal drew his sword. The great blade arched over Faolan's head and everyone in the room tensed. There was no time to save the prince, but a dozen swords moved to avenge him.

The only person in the pavilion that didn't react was Faolan himself, who looked into Donegal's eyes unblinking. Donegal's slice cut nothing but air and when his great sword stopped moving it was extended hilt first to Faolan and the Bear of the North had taken a knee.

"Allow me the honor of being the first to pledge my sword to you my king" Donegal said, bowing his wooly head.

The tension of those gathered evaporated like fog before the morning sun, and the last light of day shown through the clouds to illuminate the pair. Faolan took the sword with a measure of grace Aeden had not known his friend to possess, and tapped the big man on the shoulder saying "arise Lord Donegal, hereby named Protector of the Realm."

In succession, each lord present presented himself with somewhat less flourish, but no less grace and each was received in kind. Gareth stood before the new king next smiling down on him. "My sword and spear are yours to command my king" he said, taking a knee before Faolan.

Curt leaned forward, whispering quietly in Faolan's ear and Faolan nodded. "Lord Donegal, will you lend your sword to the aid of your king?" he asked.

Donegal handed it over without hesitation, looking askance at the young man, but not saying anything. Taking the sword and tapping him on the shoulder, he said "arise Gareth, Lord of Longford. Longford has been overlong without the leadership of its rightful line."

Gareth was surprised, but accepted the title with grace. Turning to Curt, Faolan continued. "I would make of you first counselor if you would have the position?"

"It would be my honor to serve son" he replied.

Faolan spent the night in silent vigil, Aeden and Fianna at his side. In the morning he was crowned by his friend the High Druid, and upon the noon hour he took Teagan as his queen. The celebration carried on late into the night, and the companions of Bretharc enjoyed the moment. With the sunrise all would depart. The new king with his retinue was obligated to visit the four corners of his land and begin setting right the damage the Sorginak had done to Eire.

Riordan and Fianna were bound for the druid isle, to restore the order's sacred grove and prepare for the coming battles. Aeden had not revealed his plans to anyone, and none had pressed. He realized now that what he had desired for his life was his and more, but now that he had he wished for nothing more than to return to Bretharc and raise pigs and potatoes. He knew now that the simple life he had so longed to escape was lost to him forever. He didn't know what difference he could make, but he planned to set sail for Gaul. The Sorginak had to be pushed out of the lands of his ancestors, and if he didn't see to it, his friends would be in danger again and soon.

It was time for him to go on alone. He planned to go light and go fast, and if fate allowed he would remove the pall of doom hanging over his friends. He would take his sword, and the small bag with the three stones contained therein. He still had no real idea of what purpose these served, but his mother had assured him that they were rare and powerful. He knew he needed to solve the mystery of these stones, but there was another power that he had recently come to realize he possessed that was far more important to him now. In any case, he could not take time to seek the answers, but must rely upon the fates themselves to deliver the answers while he fought the enemies of his people.

Epilogue

The field was a buffet for crows, and the Morrighan cast a weary eye upon it. Unlike her brethren, she was not bound to the land, but to man, which gave her freedom to travel wherever men strove to master one another; which is to say anywhere.

Somewhere on this field lay a wounded warrior so near death that she had little chance to save him, but that was not why she was here. His sword carried within it the seed of her power, and it could not fall into the hands of those that would use it to destroy her kind. Casting about upon the field she raced to find the fallen demigod before her enemies.

The Dagda had warned her of this day even as he asked her to infuse the talisman with power that could never be undone. Aeden may have been the first to bear the blade destined to be known as the Sword of Kings, but he would not even be remembered in future ages as the one who had saved mankind from a darkness that would have been unending. The sword had to be recovered and protected until the next bearer rose to claim it.

***

C.S. Fanning is a dedicated martial artist, a teacher, and a practicing druid of the revival tradition. He has always had a passion for fantasy and science fiction, and has walked the moons of Jupiter, explored the ruins of the Skull Kingdom, and hiked the Misty Mountains just to name a few of the adventures that he has shared with millions of other readers. Having written several nonfiction works concerning the martial arts, he decided to give voice to some of the stories that have been rattling around inside his head for some time now. Mr. Fanning lives in a small town in Oklahoma, with his beautiful wife, two lovely daughters, and a pack of beagles. You can contact him at aiki_sensei@hotmail.com.

