FROM THE FROST-covered stony bank Hendry Greum stood watching the sun climb. The glare it cast on the frozen surface of the loch between them turned the ice to a muddy gold. He felt no warmth from it, nor did he expect any. The land here remained locked in the perpetual pall of the unfinished magic that had gripped it for more than a millennium.

Nothing would live here again until a terrible wrong had been righted.

By sheer chance Hendry had not been present at the ancient solstice ritual that had caused the poisoning of the land. The Wood Dream, his druid tribe, had gathered to give thanks to the Gods by renewing the spell that protected their settlement. Before they could complete the ritual, Romans came and massacred every last druid. The tribe’s enormous guardian totems, hewn from sacred oak and bespelled to protect the tribe, had taken vengeance by doing the same to the invaders. Yet the slaughtered souls and incomplete ritual’s spell had wreaked havoc over their forms, changing them into the famhairean.

For seeking justice for their murdered tribe Hendry and his lover, Murdina Stroud, had been condemned and imprisoned by their own kind. Spending twelve centuries as immortals trapped in stone had been an inventive, effective torture. Twelve hundred years of listening to the woman he loved go slowly mad had nearly done the same to him. What little compassion that he’d once possessed as a mortal had been snuffed out by her suffering in that endless, airless dark.

It amused him to think that a strange storm in the future, caused by the very sun that now ignored him, had at long last freed them from the Storr. Once he and Murdina had done the same for the famhairean, they’d taken five druidesses from that distant time, and used them to come back to the fourteenth century. Here they had meant to have the reckoning, their final vengeance against druid and mortal kind.

And I the fool that permitted the means to escape.

Hendry’s razing power seethed inside him, feeding on his hatred, eager to be released. It never cared what it destroyed. It had no mind or feeling beyond his own. He breathed in the stagnant air, filling his lungs deeply until the chaotic need receded. He’d indulged his furious gift too liberally of late. As mighty as it made him feel, he would not become as a drunkard with an overflowing keg of whiskey.

“Greetings, Wood Dream,” Aon said from behind him, his voice creaking out the words.

Hendry turned to face the leader of the famhairean, who stood waiting with twenty other giants. Thanks to his many magical refinements to their wooden bodies they appeared more like humans every day. Only this close would a mortal notice the flat eyes, sculpted hair and fine cracks webbing their faces. By that time, however, the unlucky observer would be quite dead.

The only rage that equaled Hendry’s own burned in the pitiless souls of the giants.

Hendry saw how closely they watched him. Dha, the largest of the giants, actually took a step back. All of the famhairean had seemed to be over-cautious around him, Hendry realized, and had been since he had lost his temper with Ochd and Tri. A surge of impatience made him speak sharply.

“You neednae fear me. I punish only those who earn such.” He met Dha’s gaze. “You’ve done naught to displease me, have you?”

The giant knelt and bowed his head. “No permit harm to Wood Dream, Master.”

Master. Of late many of the giants had also taken to calling him that. While Hendry had never demanded such an honorific he found it rather gratifying. After all the mistakes his caraidean had made since coming back to this time, they needed to remember to whom they owed their freedom from eternal imprisonment.

“Your loyalty warms me.” He made a point to touch Dha’s stiff face and watch him flinch before he regarded Aon. “Direct them go to the midlands, to burn that croft I showed you last night on the map scroll. They’re to set fire to their storehouses, slaughter the livestock, and leave no cottage standing.”

The famhair nodded. “Again, permit some mortals flee?”

“Only if they run to the south.” Hendry smiled sourly. “To be sure, they might chase them in that direction. We want more to seek refuge from the cold.” When some of the other giants muttered to each other he inspected their sullen faces. “None shall live to rebuild their wretched villages. This I vow to you.”

“Go make ready,” Aon ordered, and stood watching as the giants departed. Only when they stood alone did he say to Hendry, “I ken what you do, Wood Dream. They dinnae. They desire mortal blood.”

“When the time comes, my friend, they shall bathe in it.” He studied the famhair’s impassive features. “The Skaraven possess only one weakness. In order to recover the young druidess, and put the clan back in the dirt, we must employ it against them.”

Aon said nothing for a long moment. “Yearning for the reckoning gnaws at my brothers.”

“’Tis been doing that for centuries.” Hendry had no qualms about the future. Once they defeated the infernal Skaraven nothing could stand in their way. “We shall prevail. Then this corpse of our past shall awake and bloom, old friend, and the world ’twill belong to us.”

The giant nodded, and plodded off.

Hendry waited until he felt the last of his ire fade before he walked back to the new cottage. Built by the famhairean among the ruins of the old settlement, the crude structure served to provide shelter for him and Murdina during the long, frigid nights. It only vaguely resembled his old cottage, which over the centuries had fallen to dust. He hated it, along with every other reminder of what had been taken from him, but he’d done his best to make it comfortable for his lady.

Murdina rarely noticed his pampering. Lost in a perpetual dream of what had been, she wandered through the days reliving again and again the beginnings of their affair as mortals. Her damaged mind had her now convinced she’d never aged. To keep the unhappy truth veiled he’d been obliged to bespell them both with a youth illusion.

He would do anything to make her feel happy, even if it meant turning her into a travesty of herself.

Inside Hendry removed his cloak and went to put water to boil for the morning brew. To it he added a special blend of herbs he’d concocted to keep her mood tranquil and ease any pain that yet lingered from her broken jaw. While caring for her his stores had become sorely depleted. He’d intended to ride out this morning until he found a village outside the tribe’s cursed territory to obtain food and other necessities. Now the thought of disguising himself and bartering with mortals disgusted him. He’d likely end up slaughtering them all. He wouldn’t mind the carnage in the slightest, but the Skaraven might hear of it, and track him back here.

Perhaps instead he would send his caraidean on the morrow to raid the Sky Thatch settlement. Every mewling member of that tribe deserved to die for providing succor to Bhaltair Flen. They’d certainly have plenty of herbs stored away for the long, cold season.

“Fair day, beauty mine,” he said as he went into the sleeping chamber to kiss his lover awake.

He stopped when he saw the wad of blankets and linens on the empty bed. Her missing gown, cloak and boots made it plain that she had gone off again, but why hadn’t she come seeking him? Hendry went to the back door, which stood ajar, and stepped outside to see his lady’s small tracks in the crusted snow. They led not to the lake, but into the woods toward the ritual clearing.

Murdina never went there, not since the day they’d found their entire tribe slaughtered by humans.

“She’s gone to dance through the forest again,” he muttered as he followed the trail. “Naught more.”

The sound of an axe being used made Hendry pause before he broke into a run. He should never have left her alone. Since the druidesses from the future had escaped them Murdina had lost all notion of their reality.

Fear raked a thousand blades through him as he reached the edge of the clearing, and saw his lady wielding an axe to shape a wide, bark-stripped log. Beside her Aon worked on another, using a blade to carve a face from the rough wood. The sight astonished him as much as if he’d caught them conspiring against him, and kept him mute as he made his way to them.

“Leave me work,” the giant said to Murdina. “Wood Dream soon return.”

“No, we must finish now.” She straightened to frown at the cuts she had made. “Hendry will be gone until sunset. I’ll persuade him to our aim when he returns tonight.”

“You neednae wait, sweeting mine,” he said as he came up behind her. “Convince me now.”

Aon stepped between them. “Your lady give aid. I ask of her.”

The famhair behaved as if protecting Murdina from Hendry, which was utterly absurd.

“Why should you fashion new forms? All have been restored since…” He glanced at the face Aon had been carving on the head-shaped end of the log. A narrow flat space bisected the features, as if nothing could occupy the area. Dull rage rose like so much poisoned water inside him. “Now I fathom it. You seek to restore Tri and Ochd.”

“Aye, and so we shall,” Murdina said and came around Aon. She pushed his big hand away when he attempted to stop her. “Since you destroyed them and warded the settlement their spirits may but wander aimless. ’Tis little better than the henge prison, Hendry, and twice as hurtful, for they can see us. They ken all that we do, while they can do naught.”

“’Twas their punishment for what they did to you,” he reminded her before he stared up at Aon. “No harm comes to the last of the Wood Dream. ’Twas your sacred vow to us after the Romans slaughtered our tribe. Dinnae you remember?”

Compelled by the reminder that he and the famhairean had broken that promise, Aon dropped to his knees. “Forgive.”

“No, no more of this,” Murdina cried, and tried to pull the famhair to his feet. “You call them our caraidean, our dearest friends, and yet you treat them like mortal scum. I commanded Tri to take me to the McAra stronghold that day. Ochd broke my jaw to keep me from giving away our presence to the Skaraven when they came after. If you truly wish to punish the guilty, use your power on me. Destroy my body.” Tears spilled down her face. “’Twas all my doing.”

“Beloved.” Hendry reached out to take her in his arms, but his lover skittered away. Stunned anew, he said, “Murdina mine, I couldnae ever cause you to suffer. You’re my life.”

She shuddered and bowed her head, wrapping her arms around her waist as her shoulders quaked. Seeing her weeping silently hacked at him with a dull blade of regret. He’d made his lady doubt him, and he knew not how.

“She told you this, of what Tri and Ochd truly did?” he asked Aon, and when the giant nodded, he felt staggered. “Why didnae you speak to me?”

Instead of answering the giant only gave him a sullen look.

Hendry turned away, and stared at the wood chips scattered over the barren soil beneath his feet. The day of the massacre had united him, Murdina and the giants against human kind. Never once had any of them doubted the righteousness of their reckoning. It became the war banner they carried as they sought the justice they had been so long denied. That his lover and Aon had kept secret their intentions meant they no longer trusted him to be part of their cause.

Hendry could not blame anyone but himself for that. He’d allowed his pride to go to his head, and his rage to dictate his actions. In doing so he’d damaged the bond between him and his lady, and the concord he shared with the leader of the famhairean.

Taking a dagger from his belt, Hendry offered it to Aon. “If you believe me worthy no more, I beg you end me now. I shall no’ permit anything to interfere with our sacred quest. Even if ’tis me.”

The giant stood, but made no move to take the blade.

Murdina used her sleeve to dry her tears. “Better to use it on me, Aon, lest I go mad again and endanger us all.”

The famhair regarded both of them for a long moment. “Bring back Tri and Ochd. No more harm to famhairean or Wood Dream. End all druids and mortals. Make the world ours. This you shall do?”

“Aye, forever,” Murdina said, her voice clear and true.

Hendry knelt before the giant, and bowed his head. “I give you my vow for eternity, never again to be broken. I shall do this. I shall serve as do you and my lady and our caraidean, and no’ waver from our cause. Never again shall I give you reason to doubt my worth.”

Aon released a cloud of volatiles that enveloped Hendry, sheening his face and sinking into his flesh. When the soft mist had vanished, the famhair said, “I mark you with oath. All shall ken it.”

As soon as he stood Murdina embraced him, dispelling his wretchedness with her kisses. He held her a moment longer before he drew back and picked up the axe she had been using.

“Permit me do the work now,” Hendry murmured to her, and plied the sharp edge against the log.

It took another hour for him and Aon to finish the two forms, which once possessed by Tri and Ochd would require more spell refinement. Once they propped the carved bodies upright, Hendry ended the enchantment that had kept the two famhairean from reembodying, and looked up to see two shimmering yellow lights approaching the new forms.

One immediately dropped down to envelope the wooden body with the space bisecting the head. The form shook and shrank as Tri’s spirit animated it, and a deep crevice appeared in the blank head space. As soon as he had completely possessed it he threw himself at Hendry’s feet.

“Forgive, Wood Dream,” the giant begged.

“If you shall do the same for me, my friend,” Hendry said as he helped the brain-damaged famhair to his feet. Smiling, he turned to regard the other form, but it remained lifeless.

Above them the second amber sphere floated, its light becoming almost blinding before it unexpectedly rose higher and flashed across the clearing. Murdina gasped as it winked out of sight.

Aon scowled at Hendry. “Ochd lost to us.”

Putting up another barrier around the settlement would serve no purpose. In spirit form the giants could move as fast as light. By now Ochd was likely on the other side of the country. It wounded Hendry, for he had spent much time preparing the clever famhair for his role in the reckoning. Even more so, he had no one to blame for it but himself.

“Mayhap he’ll return at sunset,” Murdina murmured, her bottom lip trembling. “He doesnae like to be alone in the darkness.”

Hendry put his arm around her. “No one does, beauty mine.”