BRENNUS SIGNALED FOR his men to form a dense line behind him before they became visible to the McAra’s stronghold. The Skaraven had trained to ride in such close quarters that only scant inches separated each rider. Cadeyrn and Ruadri flanked either end of the cavalry wall, and Taran rode slightly behind it as he used his power to keep the tired mounts in check.

Ahead of their position he could hear the sounds of chaos, shouting and the pounding of heavy running feet. A single famhair appeared, running wildly and just as suddenly stopping only a few strides from the chieftain. He gaped at the Skaraven, and opened his mouth wider as if to shout.

Brennus vaulted off his horse, swinging his sword as he flipped through the air and landed behind the giant. As the chieftain turned, the famhair’s head rolled off his shoulders and thunked into the snow. Brennus kicked it aside as he strode back and mounted, lifting his arm to hold his sword high. Swinging it down, he gave the signal to charge.

They rode as one into the midst of the giants fleeing from the castle, and splintered into their fighting ranks as they attacked. Horses wheeled away as floundering, surprised famhairean grabbed at them and tried to unseat their riders. Brennus took two more heads and several limbs, noting most had been burned. It gladdened him to see the evidence of his brother’s fiery touch, but he would wait to lay eyes on Kanyth before he celebrated.

Turning his mount back to the thick of the fighting, Brennus caught sight of Ailpin. The hunter was chopping limbs with great circling swaths of his sword. But behind him, Bridei was pressing an attack on a famhair who turned to flee. As the giant spun and wildly flailed his sword, Brennus saw only too late where the tip would land.

“Ailpin,” he called. “Down!”

But the hunter had not heard him. The gleaming and bloody tip of the famhair’s sword jutted out from the front of Ailpin’s throat.

“No!” Bridei bellowed, as he rode down the giant, separating him from his head with one mighty blow.

Ailpin slumped forward, the sword still through his neck, and slipped from the saddle.

Without seeing the limp form fall to the ground, Brennus knew the man was dead.

A druid in black robes hurried out of hiding in the trees toward the furrows, catching Brennus’s attention. Though the chieftain rode hard through the thrashing, battling confusion to reach Hendry Greum, the druid’s gloating face disappeared into the earth.

“Cowardly bastart,” Brennus shouted, and spat in the hole before he returned to the battle.

Fighting continued, growing vicious as the giants recovered from their astonishment and launched themselves at the clan. Cadeyrn circled around and found a gap, which he exploited as he charged and hacked away with his blade, felling five by the time he wheeled back. Ruadri, unseated by a heavy blow, pitted his sword against two giants who collapsed headless into each other. Brennus saw dozens of yellow lights rise from the ruined bodies, only to sink into the open furrows left by the stronghold. Just as it seemed they would reduce all the famhairean to kindling and ugly glows, one of them shouted and the rest dove into the snow, disappearing into the earth.

The Skaraven returned to their ranks, some whistling to their horses to return. Many had bloody wounds and battered faces, but they remained watchful as they held their blades ready for another clash.

Brennus signaled them to hold the ground while he retreated a short distance to where Manath waited with Bhaltair Flen. “’Tis done. We shall ride ahead to the castle to see if more await.”

The old druid trotted up to him. “I must accompany you. I ken I’m needed by Mistress Perrin.”

“’Tis your hide, tree-knower.” Brennus cantered off to lead his men to their victory.

They found more discarded wood bodies pitting the dirty slush around the keepe, but no giants left to challenge them. Brennus noted with interest the large channel of water surrounding the castle’s foundation. He signaled to Cadeyrn, who rode up to his side.

“Do my eyes jest with me?” Brennus asked his second. “Did Ka divert a stream to engulf the place?”

“’Tis meltwater,” Cadeyrn said with a grin. He nodded toward the walls at the front of the keepe, which unlike all the rest were bare of snow. “I didnae ken that his power worked on stone.”

“It doesnae,” Brennus said and dismounted. “Post lookouts until we’re sure they’ll no’ return, Cade.” He handed the reins to his war master, but paused when their eyes met. “And see to Ailpin.” His war master’s smile faded as understanding dawned, and he solemnly nodded.

Brennus approached the open entry and saw a young lad standing on the other side of a battered iron gate. The boy held a sword and a torch, and appeared ready to use both.

“Fair morning, McAra,” Brennus greeted him. “I’m Chieftain of the Skaraven, come with my clan to provide aid to your laird. No’ that I see any need for it.”

“Wait there,” the lad said, astonishing him, and disappeared.

Ruadri walked up to survey the gate. “Ka’s been busy. It appears he’s fitted every entry and window with a portcullis.”

“And he has bairns standing guard,” Brennus muttered. He saw the lad return with two others, and watched as they unchained the gate and raised it. The fear in their eyes wasn’t for him, however. “How may we help?”

“We need a healer,” the boy said. “The clan’s been poisoned.”

Brennus shouted for Bhaltair as he entered the keepe, and took in the fallen bodies and blazing fires. Ruadri went immediately to the first victim, checking the guard’s eyes and feeling for a pulse. He looked up at the chieftain and nodded, but he couldn’t rouse the man.

Kanyth emerged from the dining hall, his expression grim as he came to greet Brennus.

“Oriana Embry’s work, curse the Gods,” Kanyth said, his voice rasping with tiredness. “Tell me you brought the druid.”

“I brought the facking druid.” At last the tight anger that had knotted in him for days unraveled, and he pulled the weapons master into his arms for a brief, hard embrace. “Dinnae again curse the Gods, my brother. They heed my prayers.”

“’Tis beyond me how to revive them,” Ruadri said. The shaman sat back on his heels. “How many have fallen ill, Ka?”

“All but ten stable lads, Lady Elspeth and her bairns, and Perrin.” Kanyth looked down at Ruadri beside the guard. “We’ve tried salt-water purging, but it hasnae worked.”

Bhaltair came in hobbling so quickly he lurched, and stopped as soon as he saw the bodies. “What, they’ve all been dosed? How so?”

“Your acolyte poisoned the clan’s morning brew,” Perrin said as she came into the great hall carrying a bottle, which she handed to Bhaltair. “We think she used this.”

The old druid uncorked the bottle, sniffed it, and grimaced. “’Tis a spelled potion for obtaining blood from animals,” he added when Brennus eyed him. “We use it to keep the beasts still and asleep. They arenae killed, and we–”

“Dinnae tell me for what purpose you take the blood,” the chieftain warned Bhaltair.

“But it’s not poison?” Perrin said, and the druid shook his head. “But if she had the chance, why not kill them?”

“’Tis more of a burden to tend the sick,” Ruadri said. “They kept you distracted.”

Perrin had to admit it had done that. She looked around at the afflicted. “So once you’re done with the animals, does the potion wear off?”

“After a day and night,” Bhaltair told her. “But a leaf of rosemary placed on the tongue can break the spell.”

“Elspeth has a couple pots of rosemary growing in the garden room,” Perrin said and hurried off to the stairs.

Brennus watched Kanyth’s expression as he followed the lady’s path with his gaze. His brother had weathered a ferocious storm, outwitted the famhairean, and kept safe an entire castle of mortals—all by himself. He’d also fallen in love with the lady, which anyone who saw him now would recognize. Yet instead of basking in the glory of it, Ka seemed troubled.

“Shall I greet her when she returns as my true sister?” Brennus asked.

“She’s my lover, no’ my mate,” Kanyth said, with such savagery it startled him. “And you’ll keep your mouth shut, and your overbearing arse out of it.”

“I’m your chieftain,” he calmly reminded his brother.

Ka’s eyes took on a curious softness. “Aye, Bren, but she commands my heart.”