INSIDE THE FARMHOUSE in the woods the scents of apple and chamomile filled the kitchen as Hendry finished preparing a brew. After his long imprisonment in the Storr, he found performing the most ordinary tasks a pleasure. Waking in the farmer’s bed beside his beloved allowed him to believe for a few moments that they had journeyed back another thousand years. They’d lived a beautiful, simple life among the Wood Dream tribe.

He would have that again with his lover, just as soon as they took their vengeance, and began their new tribe.

Murdina shared his vision, but she was easily distracted from it. The noises coming from the front room told him that his lover still paced about, kicking everything in her path. She’d been doing so ever since learning that one of the druidesses had escaped.

“How could this have happened? We put six on the barn to watch them, six. I ken that they’re slower at night, but do they become totems again? If that little cloy-faced wench could slip away from so many, what hope have we?” Murdina stopped shouting for a moment, and the sound of pottery smashing combined with a wail of despair. “This shall ruin us, I ken it.”

Hendry filled two cups, added a dollop of herbs and honey to one before he carried them out of the kitchen. “Here, firebrand mine. Your favorite blend. ’Twill ease your mood.”

“Naught ever more, Hendry. That treacherous cow shall bring the Pritani to burn us out,” Murdina raged. “Or the druids to bespell us again.” She stopped and glared at the cup he held out to her, and then snatched it to take a deep swallow. “Do you wish to be trapped in stone for eternity? For ’tis what they’ll do when they come. You and I and the caraidean, and they’ll see to it that we cannae escape this time. They’ll hurl us into the sun.”

“You forget that they’re helpless against us now, sweeting mine,” he chided gently, and led her over to the fireplace, where he sat down with her huddled against his side. “We’re made immortal, so their spells willnae work against us. They cannae enter this wood without our kenning it. As for the Pritani, aye, she may be clever enough to guide them to us. Let them come. We’ve an army of giants they cannae slay.”

“But they shall ken we’re returned and plot against us. They shall find another means to end us. Are you so great a fool that you cannae see it?” She drained her cup and got to her feet, swaying a little before she collapsed again and hunched her shoulders. “Oh, my love, I didnae mean to speak so harshly. ’Tis only that I cannae endure it again, even with you at my side.” Turning to bury her face in his shoulder, she whimpered, “Dinnae let them take me. This time you must kill me.”

“We didnae come back to die.” Hendry stroked her silver-streaked curls. “The Gods freed us to continue our work, to make new the world. Our enemies shall have no place in it.”

He held Murdina until she fell asleep, and then covered her with a woolen and watched her for a time. The herbs he’d added to her brew had calmed her, but soon they wouldn’t be enough to stave off the madness. It was yet another horror for which Bhaltair Flen and his tribe would pay.

Outside the farm house Hendry found Aon standing in wait, his crackled face turned to the rising sun. “Forgive me for the delay. My lady has been most distressed.”

Aon glanced through the window at the sleeping Murdina. “Part of her yet remains trapped in the Storr.”

He hated himself for silently agreeing. “Did you find them?”

“The two the female destroyed, aye,” the giant said as he gestured for the druid to accompany him. “They await new forms to be carved for them, and told the events of the night to me.” As they walked through the trees Aon related what had happened, and then asked, “Why did she conceal her power?”

“Likely she wasnae aware of it,” Hendry said. “In her time she possessed none. We ken that the groves change the druids they send through time. They acquire new talents and abilities. ’Twas why the conclave made it forbidden.”

“There came another, the fallen told me,” the giant said. “He moved like a bird, and wore the same on his flesh. The ink glowed blue.”

Hendry suppressed a sour chuckle. “We saw the Skaraven die in your last battle, my friend, and watched them buried by Flen’s lot. The warrior who aided the female couldnae be one of them. After so many ages, they’re dust.”

“The warrior took her with him into the lochan. He became as the water before he submerged.” Aon halted in a patch of bright sunlight. “From it they vanished. Explain how they could.”

Hendry glanced through the trees at the lochan. After their tribe had been murdered, he and Murdina had tried to convince the conclave to deliver justice for the Wood Dream. Too busy eluding the Romans and making bargains with the Pritani, they had refused.

“Before the invaders came to slaughter our tribe, Bhaltair Flen wished to give his mortal allies an advantage over the enemy,” he told Aon. “Only a few druid like him could bestow such gifts. ’Tis likely this warrior’s powers came from him. Once you take the warrior and the female, I shall question him.”

“We cannae track the warrior,” the giant said, his body ward shimmering with the sunlight he had absorbed. “No’ through the lochan.”

Hendry felt shaken by the reminder. How could he have been so foolish as to forget the caraidean’s reaction to water? “Flen shall send more warriors soon. We must take Gwyn Embry and compel him to tells us where his old friend and the Dawn Fire now hide.”

Aon shifted his gaze in the direction of the druid settlement on the other side of the mountain. “Good. Coig wants a new toy.”