TARAN’S REPORT ON the battle with Ochd convinced Brennus that the Skaraven should attack the Wood Dream settlement immediately.

“I’ll no’ wait for that giant to lead them back to Dun Mor,” the chieftain told his clanmasters. “Cadeyrn, ready the men. Ruadri, see to our ladies. Taran, you’re to guard Rowan. Where is that facking druid, Althea?”

“The facking druid has returned, Chieftain,” Bhaltair Flen said as he limped into the great hall, looking battered in bloodstained robes. “I’ve been healed by the portal,” he assured Ruadri and Emeline as they rushed over to him. “’Twas but a flesh wound.”

Brennus walked up and surveyed him. “You couldnae wait for the clan’s attack to fight?”

“Barra Omey chose no’ to,” the old druid said drily. “I’ve seen to it that she’ll plague us no more. Do we no longer wait for sunset?”

As Brennus related the details Taran drew Rowan away. “Ochd shall have a new body by now. You’re no’ to leave my side.”

“I’ll do my best.” She glanced at Bhaltair. “Healed or not, the old guy looks pretty worn out. You’ll need to stay close to both of us. Let’s go get the horses.”

Taran and Cadeyrn had worked together for their method to empty the stables quickly. Rather than bring the horses out to their riders, he had each Skaraven go to the stall to saddle their mount, then ride out in water-travel formation. He remained behind to assure the herd stayed calm as they rode down to the river, then swung up on Gael and met Rowan and Bhaltair.

“Horse Master, I ken you dinnae wish to speak to me,” the old druid said as they trotted down the bank. “Yet I must say this to you. I did you great wrong, both as a Skaraven and a fellow druid. I dinnae expect your forgiveness, nor your tolerance, but I offer my deepest apologies all the same.”

“And that topic is now closed until after the battle,” Rowan said as Taran eyed him. “Guys, I’m going to need you both to have my back for this. Rumble with the giants, not each other, okay?”

“Of course, Mistress,” Bhaltair said.

Taran gave him one last look before he met his mate’s concerned gaze. “Aye.”

Cadeyrn and Lily had entered the river at the very front so she could use her mind-mover power to break through the ice covering the Wood Dream’s loch. She did so at the point where Rowan had specified as providing the most cover, about half a league from the settlement. Her mate then directed the ranks to reform in attack positions as soon as they arrived.

Anticipating that their horses would react skittishly to entering the dead territory, Taran had instructed the herd’s alphas to keep the calm until he arrived. When he rode up out of the stagnant water, he saw that the stallions had done so with admirable self-control. He used his power to praise his herd leaders while soothing the few mounts still agitated.

Brennus rode up to the front of the men to address the clan. “We’ve one chance to do this, but thanks to Mistress Thomas ’twill be to our advantage, no’ theirs. You have your orders. All of you, watch your backs and your necks, and protect our ladies at all cost.” He looked at the men’s faces and nodded. “This day we ride for our brother, Ailpin, heart of the fox.”

“For Ailpin,” the men murmured.

Althea, Brennus, Cadeyrn and most of the Skaraven rode to the forest and disappeared into it. Ruadri and Kanyth remained behind with their mates and Lily, who now began opening dozens of small rifts in the loch’s frozen surface.

Perrin rode up to her sister’s side and reached over to give her a fierce hug. “Do not get yourself killed,” Taran heard her say. “Kanyth sends you this.”

Perrin handed her a handsome dagger, the handle sized for a smaller hand.

“I personally never get killed,” Rowan said, taking the blade. She slipped it into her boot. “It’s the rest of you that do that.” She drew back and tucked a piece of bright hair behind Perrin’s ear. “You need a trim.”

“You need a clan ring,” the dancer replied, and gave Taran a surly look before rejoining the other ladies.

The theft of his clan ring had quietly gnawed at him since his return to Dun Mor, and now he saw Rowan glance at his bare hands.

“Ochd took it from me, that first day in the barn,” he told her. “I will take it back today.”

“I don’t need a ring,” she told him. “I’ve got you.”

As Taran rode with his lady and the druid toward the clearing, Bhaltair asked, “I see you bear a mating mark around your wrist, Mistress Thomas.”

“Yep.” She skirted around a mass of leafless vine. “Got it today, courtesy of the centaur.”

“Ah.” The old druid glanced at Taran. “I mention it only as it didnae please your sister to be thus marked by Kanyth’s forge.”

Rowan nodded. “She’s picky. I’m not.”

“’Tis unusual that a Pritani battle spirit should mark a soul-mated druidess.” He sounded intrigued now. “Particularly when she shares an enemy’s bloodline.”

“They share mine, it’s older than theirs, and Taran and I are not druids,” Rowan told him. “We’re Skaraven.”

Taran’s annoyance faded. She had claimed him, and his clan, and as soon as he retrieved his ring from Ochd he would give it to her. After all she had endured and sacrificed, the Gods would grant her an immortal life.

A short time later they reached the deserted clearing, where they dismounted. Taran sent the horses back to the loch before he scanned the empty glen, and the long rows of totems still standing at its borders. The silence didn’t prey on him as much as the sense that they were not alone here, but that he attributed to the giant defenders.

“You must be quick,” he told Rowan as he walked with her and Bhaltair to a newly-erected altar on the tribe’s sacred ground. “Hendry shall sense what we do. Remember, once you begin you cannae stop until ’tis finished.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Opening the druid’s satchel, Rowan began removing various objects and placed them on the ground before the altar, along with bundles of herbs and bowls of dried fruit. When she straightened, Taran pulled her into his arms for a final kiss.

“You look beautiful in green.”

“I look better out of it,” she replied and clutched him for a long moment. “I love you.”

He touched her cheek before withdrawing with Bhaltair to the midpoint between the altar and the old sacred grove.

Rowan knelt before the stones, closing her eyes as she tilted her head back. Above her the scarlet sky churned with malevolent magic as the first words left her lips.

Bhaltair crouched and placed his hands on the frozen soil, his gaze locked on Rowan and the altar.

Something made Taran’s skin crawl, and he looked over at the totems, which remained unmoving. He turned his head to inspect the other side of the clearing, and saw one of the wooden defenders slowly turn his head to glare back at him.

The ground beneath his boots shook as dozens of furrows streaked toward them, and giants began to emerge. Taran drew his sword, but they were surrounded in an instant.

“Our runaways return.” Hendry climbed up out of one of the holes and shook the soil from his robes. “Permit me to perform a proper welcome this time.”

Taran held his sword ready as he stepped between the mad druid and Rowan. “I await you, Greum.”

“You’re attacking me and mine,” Hendry corrected with a broad smile. “My thanks, Skaraven.”

In that moment all of the totems came to life and began to march toward Taran.

* * *

Perrin paced along the shore as Lily finished punching the last of the cracks in the ice. “Come on, come on,” she muttered as she pressed her hands to her temples. “Why is this taking so long?”

Strong hands caught her by the waist and pulled her back against a broad chest. “You ken better than to force it,” Kanyth said, lacing his fingers over her waist. “Close your eyes now. Reach out with your mind, as Ruadri told you. Summon the future.”

“My mind only goes one place if you’re kissing my neck,” she warned him before she let her eyelids drop. Releasing a breath, she said. “Okay.”

“Seek Rowan’s fate,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s at the altar, and casting the spell. Do you see her?”

She nodded. The blurry image of her sister started small, like a postage stamp, and then grew larger. “I can see her back. She’s standing up. She’s already got everything arranged, and I think she’s praying or whatever.”

Distant shouts distracted her, until her mate said, “Ignore that. You’re with your sister in the clearing. Can you see Bhaltair and Taran?”

“No, just her.” She felt a strange panic surge through her as Bhaltair suddenly fell at her sister’s feet. “Wait, something’s wrong. The old druid. Ka, someone’s dragging his head back, like– Oh, no. It’s Hendry. I can see him.”

“Dinnae be afraid,” Kanyth said, his voice harder. “Now feel the passage of time. ’Twill take some minutes for the wave to reach the clearing. You must tell Lily when to release it.”

Sweat ran down Perrin’s spine as she focused on her sister. Rowan reached out to the altar, and then drew her hand back quickly, flinching as she did. Her shoulders slumped as if she were exhausted, and then the altar and the objects on it began to shine with glittering white light. Bhaltair staggered to his feet.

“Master Flen’s going to be all right. Rowan did it. I mean, she’s going to do it.” Perrin aligned her sense of time with the vision. When the two connected she opened her eyes and shouted, “Now, Lily, now.”

Kanyth yanked her off her feet and ran up the shore as the ice on the loch began cracking. Perrin looked over his shoulder to see the British woman spreading her arms wide, and the water rising in front of her in a solid wall that towered twenty feet over her.

“Everyone clear?” Lily called without looking behind her.

“Aye, Lily,” Ruadri called back.

Kanyth set Perrin down on her feet, and held her close as the petite blonde below them hurled the wall of water out of the loch. With a giant roar an enormous wave smashed down on the bank. It swelled again as Lily directed more streams from the ice to feed it before it rolled out toward the clearing.

“Time to join the others,” Ruadri said as he led their horses out of the protective grove where they’d left them. “Emeline?”

His wife swung up on her horse. “I’m ready, Ru.” As the shaman mounted as well, she glanced behind her. “Ka?”

“I’ll look after the ladies,” the weapons master assured her.

Ru and Emeline spurred their horses into a quick gallop and were gone.

Perrin ran to Lily, who gratefully accepted her arm as she led her up to the horses. “That was incredible. I didn’t get to see you do that at the waterfall during the great escape, you know. Someone hit me over the head with a rock.”

“And kept you from doing something bloody stupid,” the Brit countered before she regarded Kanyth. “I heard what Emeline said. Should we go after her and Ru?”

He shook his head. “Brennus needs us in place. We’ll ride to the clearing.”

* * *

Emeline reined in her mare as she and Ru reached the ruins of the settlement. A young druidess stood staring at the smoldering body of a famhair. The stench of burnt wool made the shaman grimace, but what Emeline felt filled her mind with darting, flashing thoughts so disjointed they broke apart and reformed as quickly as they moved. Slowly she dismounted, but shook her head at her mate when he moved to do the same.

“That young lass is Murdina,” she told him. “She’s in no condition to harm me, but the sight of you might cause her to have another break.”

He glanced at Murdina. “She’s broken bones?”

“Her mind has shattered.” Despite all the evil the mad druidess had done she felt a terrible pity. “Something finally pushed her past all reason. She’s gone completely insane.”

“We should leave her, then, and rejoin the clan,” Ruadri said.

“We have to be sure she goes with the others,” Emeline reminded him. “And she’s Hendry’s one weakness. She’ll be a distraction for him.”

Grimly he nodded. “Hurry.”

Emeline carefully approached the remnants of the fire, and pulled back her hood so that the other woman could see her face.

“Fair day, my lady. Are you finished here?”

“Aye, ’twill burn no more.” She peered at Emeline. “Healer McAra. What do you here?”

“Hendry sent me to find you.” She nodded in the direction of the clearing. “He’s waiting for you with Rowan. She’s finishing the ritual now.”

“The dark lass.” Murdina nodded absently. “But she hasnae yet made the sacrifice. Only death can bring life.” She met Emeline’s gaze. “’Twas the tribe’s secret. ’Twas how came the famhairean. Our totems took the tribe’s souls, and then they ate the Romans.”

Emeline had seen the totems do that during her trip to the distant past. Just a brief glimpse of it had rendered her catatonic for hours. She took in a deep breath until the nausea she felt subsided, and then did her part for the plan.

“Hendry needs you.” She stepped closer, and bracing herself, put a hand on Murdina’s arm. All the madness inside the other woman tried to pour inside her, but with her own love she held most of it back, and wrapped Murdina in true tenderness. “You should go to him now.”

“Aye,” Murdina finally said, her eyes damp and glistening. Slowly she drifted away and began walking toward the forest.

Emeline made it back to Ru and their horses. When she looked up into his gray eyes, and saw the gentle strength there, she felt beyond blessed. The love they shared filled her mind, and washed away the last of the mad druidess’s fractured, frantic emotions.

“Are you ready for what you have to do?” she asked him as he leaned down to help her into her saddle.

“Aye.” He kept hold of her hand. “’Twill be over soon, Wife.”

Often Emeline had wondered if this unbearable conflict would go on forever, but now she felt the same surety.

“Let’s go and finish it, Husband.”