MURDINA FELT THE ground tremble, and emerged from the cottage expecting to see the famhairean return victorious. She hoped they had brought at least one Skaraven head. She planned to plant it in the spell garden next spring and see if she could grow a warrior tree. Then she and Hendry might pluck new, fine bodies from its branches for their caraidean.

Tri clumsily capered around her, chortling with glee. “Bury Skaraven. All dead now.” He stopped and frowned as the amber lights of many famhairean spirits appeared overhead. “Brothers. No, no, no.”

Only half of the giants emerged from the furrows, many burned and some sporting horrible splotches of metal on their heads and chests. Dha held Hendry clamped against him, and dropped him to the ground before skulking away.

Murdina hurried over to him. “Never say they defeated you, my love. You were to bury them all when you razed the castle.”

“We did more than that, beauty mine,” he said smiling. Her lover turned his head as Aon shot up from the earth, a squirming female in his arms. “We acquired an ally.”

Aon set the lass down before joining the other famhairean. The young woman frantically set about brushing the dirt from her face and clothes.

Murdina slowly circled her. “An ally? What need we of an ally?”

Hendry came to her side and whispered, “The lass ’twas acolyte to Bhaltair Flen.”

Murdina froze, and in the next instant lunged for the girl’s throat. But Hendry wrapped his strong arms around her and held her tight.

The girl smirked at Murdina. “You may call me Oriana,” she said and lifted her chin. “And ken that I have killed that old bastart.”

“Killed?” Murdina gasped, her jaw going slack. “You?”

“Aye,” she confirmed with a sniff. “’Tis my arrow lodged in his belly.”

Murdina turned her shocked look on Hendry. “Tell me if ’tis true, my love. You I’ll believe.”

“I heard him cry out and saw the castle set fire,” he said cautiously. “But you ken the old man’s cunning. I’ll no’ rest until I stand over his body, and that of every Skaraven.”

“They’re dead, I tell you,” Oriana declared. “And by my hand.”

Murdina turned a murderous glare on her. “For the sake of your miserable life that old druid had better no’ be dead.” She grabbed Hendry’s arm. “The old man ’twas for me, Hendry. You promised.”

“And that he shall be, beauty mine,” he said calmly, taking her by the shoulders.

“No’ if he’s dead,” she cried. “Oh, Hendry, you promised.”

“Listen to me,” he said, shaking her shoulders. “Listen, my love.” Though she could barely see him through the tears that had sprung into her eyes, he drew his face close. “Oriana ’tis a bone conjurer. You’ve heard of Barra Omey?” He nodded at the lass. “’Tis she.”

“Bone conjurer?” Murdina muttered, as some calm returned. “A resurrector of the dead?”

Hendry nodded and smiled, as he gently wiped the teardrops from her cheeks. “You see it, do you not, beauty mine?” He held her face between his gentle hands. “Our enemy ’twill never be lost to us.”

As Murdina caught his meaning, her eyes widened and her spirit buoyed. Of course her Hendry had seen to their revenge. “I shouldnae have doubted you, my love.” She covered his hands with her own. “Is there forgiveness left in your heart for such as me?”

“’Tis naught to forgive,” he said, placing a light kiss on her forehead.

When he released her, Murdina looked around at what remained of their caraidean. There would be much work to do to replenish their ranks, but Tri and Ochd were becoming quite good at the carving.

Oriana was idly inspecting the cage that Hendry had built. At the sight of it, Murdina clutched his arm.

“Our druidess?” she asked.

“Likely at the Skaraven stronghold,” he confirmed, patting her hand. “But I’ve learned a thing about the Skaraven that none has kenned before.”

Though Murdina didn’t know what he meant, she recognized the fevered excitement that gripped him. How she had missed the glad ring to his voice that always made her heart beat faster. Delight bubbled up inside her so quickly that she had to laugh.

Yes, she would put the kettle on, and together they would see to their new guest. Ochd could make another bed, and perhaps a chair.

Murdina smiled, linking arms with Hendry, and beckoned to the bone conjurer. “Come, Oriana or Barra or whatever you call yourself.” With a grand flourish, she motioned her toward the cottage. “We must make plans.”