SINCE LOSING AILPIN in the battle outside the McAra stronghold Brennus had been unwilling to visit the clan’s caibeal. While the small, subterranean chapel usually provided him with some clarity of purpose, his lingering anger had made him unfit to brace his battle spirit. The loss of the hunter felt as if the Gods had torn away a part of him that might never heal. Even now, standing before the caibeal’s granite slab door, he felt his temper roiling. How much more would the Skaraven have to sacrifice to follow the twisted, stony path of righteousness?

“Hey,” said a soft voice. Althea came to stand beside him, her lovely face solemn. “Want some company?”

As ever his wife’s presence spread calm over his seething emotions. Without understanding the danger involved Althea had once defended him against his own raven in the caibeal, and he felt tempted to take her with him. Yet as chieftain he knew his responsibilities to the clan and the Gods. This task he would have to face alone.

“I must seek guidance alone this day,” he told her, curling an arm around her waist and kissing her temple. “’Twill be well, my lady.”

“If you’re sure.” Her bright gaze shifted over his face. “Just remember that I love you, and if you don’t come out of there in an hour, I’m bringing the boys with me to get you.”

He held her for a long moment, and then watched her depart before he pushed open the heavy door.

Walking into the clan’s chapel felt to the chieftain like stepping back twelve centuries to his mortal life, when he and the Skaraven had created the spiritual retreat. Huge stone slabs, each carved with his brothers’ battle spirits, formed concentric circles around the giant black morion in the center. The enormous dark crystal depicted Brennus’s own raven battle spirit, whose protection he shared with the rest of the clan. Since they had been freed of servitude he had also depended on the raven to aid him in making important decisions that would affect all Skaraven.

Walking through the caibeal stones, he saw one slab that had cracked and crumbled. From long familiarity he knew it had belonged to the fox, Ailpin’s battle spirit. No Skaraven would have smashed the stone. The hunter’s battle spirit must have destroyed it. Seeing the remains provided a sobering reminder of the power each spirit possessed.

Brennus bent to take a piece from the rubble, and held it in his fist as he approached the center of the caibeal. Yet his anger paled as he looked around at all the other slabs. The loss of Ailpin’s fox had greater meaning than he’d realized. One that shook him to his core. Slowly he went down on his knees and bowed his head.

“In pride and anger I’ve mourned the loss of our brother. ’Tis my task to keep safe the clan, and I failed Ailpin. I came to beseech you for guidance, but now I see the stones yet standing. For the twelve centuries since the Skaraven died as mortals, you didnae abandon us. Our stones didnae crumble away. You awaited our return.”

His skinwork came alive with dark blue light, illuminating the crystal’s carving. The raven looking over its shoulder slowly turned its head to meet his gaze.

“I ever serve you and my brothers,” Brennus said, and placed the piece of broken stone at the base of the morion. “Guide me that I may do your will.”

The crystal raven fluttered its sparkling wings, and slowly rose, hovering just over the chieftain’s head. Its darkness spread until it engulfed Brennus. Stars glittered above him, and he felt the brush of soft grass against his body. The vague outlines of an immense forest appeared, and cool air from the wind that filtered through it caressed his face.

The grove. Brennus had no other name for it, but he knew the place. He had come here long ago. Movement drew his gaze, and for a moment he saw the silhouette of a hunter and a fox walking together through the trees. Ailpin.

The night sky became filled with falling stars, and then with the grove it vanished.

Brennus looked into the eyes of the crystal raven, and felt the battle spirit’s power funneling through him. Slowly the light faded from the morion as the carved bird looked over its shoulder and went still.

What the raven had shown him Brennus would have to think on, and perhaps consult with Ruadri and Cadeyrn as to its meaning. Yet as he left the caibeal he felt whole again. Somewhere beyond the mortal realm Ailpin and his fox still hunted together. The clan’s spirits had not forsaken the Skaraven.

As soon as Brennus stepped into the great hall Cadeyrn flanked by two clansmen came to intercept him.

“Chieftain, these men recovered two horses while patrolling our eastern boundary,” his second said. “We’ve missing riders, and signs of the famhairean near the outer edge of the Great Wood.”

Brennus regarded the patrol. “Tell me all.”

“We found Ceann tethered near the hollows by the south-facing slopes,” one patroller said. “Gael came to us there, as spooked as I’ve never seen. Both saddled, but no sign of their riders.”

“We followed Gael’s track to the entrance of a cave,” the second clansman added. “There we saw signs of struggle, and many furrow holes.”

Brennus stiffened. The place they spoke of lay less than a few miles from Dun Mor.

“Taran rides Gael. Who took Ceann?”

“Rowan has been exercising him every morn,” Cadeyrn said. “Like Tran, she’s nowhere to be found.”

“I may ken where they’ve gone, Brother.” Kanyth joined them, his expression grim as he related Perrin’s last vision. “I ken I should have told you last night, but my wife wished to first speak to the old druid. She believed he’d ken if some dark spell holds her sister under its sway. Had I guessed Rowan meant to betray us so soon, I’d have come to you at once.”

“Aye, but had she, why would Rowan no’ lead the famhairean here?” Cadeyrn said, sounding unconvinced. “’Twould take them naught but a few moments to cross the distance and invade Dun Mor.” He glanced at Brennus. “Lily once feigned an alliance with Hendry to enlist my aid for their escape from the mill farm, and I called her traitor. I’ll no’ think the same of Rowan until we’ve proof.”

“My wife’s visions arenae enough?” Kanyth demanded. “We’d likely be dead, all of us and the McAra, if no’ for Perrin’s foresight.”

With his horse master missing and possibly captured by the mad druids Brennus couldn’t waste time judging the dark lass’s intentions.

“Cadeyrn, gather the best of our hunters and trackers for a search. Kanyth, you and Ruadri shall prepare the stronghold against an attack. Bid Althea and our ladies to aid you.”

As the men scattered to carry out his orders, the clan’s shaman entered the great hall with the limping figure of Bhaltair Flen. Brennus strode over to them, intent on sending the old druid back through the portal to safety.

“’Tis troubling,” Bhaltair said once the chieftain had tersely described the situation. “Yet I dinnae reckon ’twas by chance that Hendry and his giants found your clanmaster and the lass. Mayhap he’s been watching the Great Wood for any sign of the Skaraven.”

In the past Brennus would have dismissed the old man’s theories, but he had learned from experience that Flen had a canny understanding of their enemy.

“Then once seeing Tran and Rowan, why would he no’ follow them back to the stronghold for the rest of us?”

“Mayhap the two first found him and his creatures,” Bhaltair suggested. “’Twould explain why he released their horses. ’Tis my thinking that Hendry sets another snare for the Skaraven—with your clanmaster and the lass as lures.”

* * *

Bhaltair gratefully accepted a seat at the Skaraven’s long hall table, but declined the food and drink Althea offered.

“’Twill no’ appease what curdles my belly presently, my lady.” He saw how her mouth tightened and reached to touch her slim hand. “Never fear, now. We shall see the lady and the Skaraven returned safely.”

“Not if we walk into another of Hendry’s traps,” Althea said and met her husband’s glowering gaze across the table. “Master Flen is right. Hendry knows you’re going to respond to this by coming after him and the famhairean. It’s exactly what you did when the McAra were in danger. He’s manipulating you and the clan again to come for him.”

“No druid decides my mind for me,” the chieftain said flatly. “Nor my wife.”

“I’m not trying to,” Althea said and made a frustrated sound. “Hendry’s always one step ahead of us because he plans ahead. He knows what pushes your buttons…ah, what makes you do the things you do.” She sighed. “Now that he and the giants also know how to kill you, I’m just afraid that more of our men are going to die.”

Bhaltair thought the lady brave for risking her husband’s displeasure, and considered deflecting it with an offering of his own advice. Brennus’s fierce expression instead persuaded him to hold his tongue.

“I’ve been reminded that I dinnae ken all.” The chieftain turned to regard his second. “War Master, counsel.”

“I agree with your lady and the tree-knower,” Cadeyrn said. “We shall do better to match Hendry’s intent, and turn it to our advantage.” His gaze settled on Bhaltair. “Mayhap you may provide some counsel as well. ’Tis common for your kind to scheme in such ways.”

Reminded of his debt to the clan, the old druid hunched his shoulders. “I’ll aid you however I may.”

“Why should we plot thus? We ken what shall happen,” Kanyth put in before Bhaltair could continue. “Perrin saw Rowan betray us.”

Ruadri frowned. “No’ all your lady’s visions come to pass, Brother.”

“What Rowan intends shall have no weight if we strike before the druids,” Cadeyrn told him, and then quickly said to Brennus, “We set a trap of our own, but no’ simply to ambush or counter or imprison. We find the means to end them once they’re caught.”

“I may have that now,” Bhaltair said, silencing them all. When the chieftain gave him a curt nod he told them of the letter in the scroll box Gwyn had left behind for him. “What my old friend begged me do with Barra Omey’s soul made me think of the grove of stars. Cast there, her spirit would be there trapped forever. ’Tis why she’s gone to such lengths to possess other druids. She may remain in the mortal realm only through–”

“Enough of the bone conjurer,” Brennus said. “Explain to me this grove.”

The conclave would have disapproved of Bhaltair revealing what had only been known to their elders, but he owed the Skaraven the truth.

“After death we ken that souls pass through the grove of stars. For most ’tis a waiting and meeting place, where those who wish to journey on together to the afterlife reunite. But those among druid kind like Barra who’ve turned to dark magic dinnae go to the well of stars from there. For them the grove is their final destination.”

“You ken the quislings and their famhairean couldnae escape this grove?” Cadeyrn asked.

“Aye, War Master. ’Tis ever night in the grove, thus no sun storm could release them. As immortals they cannae reopen the portal. Only the worthy ascend.” Bhaltair spread his hands. “’Twould be the only prison certain to hold them for eternity.”

Brennus and his clanmasters fell silent, exchanging odd looks. The chieftain’s lady, however, glowered at Bhaltair directly.

“Why didn’t you send them there in the first place?” Althea demanded. When her husband touched her shoulder, she glanced up at him. “I don’t regret coming here, Bren, or meeting you. You’re the love of my life. But a lot of innocent people have died because the druids and the famhairean escaped.”

“We cannae change the past, my heart. We may only fight for our future.” The chieftain caressed her cheek before he said to Bhaltair, “You and Cadeyrn shall plot this together. Hold naught back from my war master, Druid, or I shall put you in the grove myself.”

“Aye, you’ve my word.” Bhaltair regarded Althea. “My lady, we will need your aid in this as well.”

She frowned at him. “Of course, I’ll help, but I’m no warrior. All I can do is…” She stopped as understanding lit up her eyes. “You can’t use a wood henge to send them to the grove of stars.”

“No, my lady,” he said, smiling wanly. “To see this done, we shall need your ice power.”