The Sword and the Song (24 page)

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew. Master Eoghan assigned me to Lady Aine during the day. Given everything that’s happened, he thought it best she have a dedicated guard. Another man stands watch in the evening.”

There were things there that were important, but he couldn’t fish them out from his swimming thoughts. “Aye. Well, you’re dismissed for this evening. I trust you’ll be back in the morning as expected.”

“Sir, with all due respect, Master Eoghan would have me flogged if I shirked my duties for any reason.”

Conor sighed. He was too tired to argue. Besides, given his current state, it probably wasn’t the worst idea to have someone on watch outside. He gave Iomhar a weary nod and grabbed the latch, only to find the door locked.

A rap brought rustling and the scrape of the lock from the
other side. Aine yanked the door open, wearing her long shift and a quizzical look. “Iomhar, is something
 
—” She stopped short when she saw Conor.

“May I come in?” he asked, a smile playing on his lips for the first time in weeks. “Or is your guard determined to protect your virtue from even your husband?”

Iomhar cleared his throat from behind, a sure sign that he was trying not to laugh. Aine’s face eased into a grin, and she opened the door wider. “I think he might make an exception.”

Conor let his bag drop to the floor, took her face in his hands, and kissed her before she could say another word, kicking the door closed behind them. She slid her arms around his neck and held him tight, refusing to break the kiss for several long moments. “Thank Comdiu you’re back,” she said with a sigh, kissing him again. “You have no idea how I’ve missed you.”

“I think I have.” He pulled back from her and took in the changes that had occurred in the month he was gone. There was a definite roundness beneath her clothing that hadn’t been there before. “How is my son?”

“Oh, you’re so certain it’s a son?”

“Pretty certain. Though I won’t complain if it’s a daughter who looks just like my wife.”

“I do rather like you when you’ve been gone for a while. You’re very flattering.”

He grinned as she unbuckled the harness that held his weapons and began to lay them aside. Just being in her presence made the last month feel like a bad dream. Maybe now that he was back, he could throw off the memories that plagued him, at least for a time. This had the feeling of a temporary reprieve before the other, more-difficult duties to be done. But he had earned it. They both had.

“Come to bed,” she said. “I’m just going to stoke the brazier.”

He started to make some comment about keeping her warm, but it got lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth. Instead, he undressed down to his long shirt and slid beneath the blankets. The instant his head touched the pillow, he was asleep.

A cry awoke Conor sometime in the night. He sat bolt upright in the bed, panting and covered in sweat. It took him several moments to remember where he was and several more to register that the voice speaking to him was real and not just in his head.

“Shh, Conor, I’m here. It was just a dream.” Aine’s hands were touching him, making soothing motions that he could still scarcely reconcile with the pain he’d just experienced. “Come, lie back down.”

He let her guide him down to the mattress and slid his arms around her, pulling her tight to his body. He’d hoped returning to Ard Dhaimhin would help him put that experience behind him. He buried his head against her neck and breathed in the lavender scent of her hair while his heartbeat returned to normal. She just held him and stroked his hair as she might a heartbroken child.

“I wish I could do something,” she murmured, the anguish plain in her voice. “If I could make it stop, I would.”

“It’s not real. It was never real, yet I still lived it. How do you forget something that never happened?” He wasn’t making any sense, but none of this made any sense. Her hair was wet against his face, dampening his skin. Except it was the other way around
 
—his tears were dampening her hair and her shoulder and pouring out with big, gulping sobs.

But men did not weep from nightmares. He wrenched himself from her arms and dragged his sleeve across his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . . I’ll be fine.”

Aine pushed herself up on one elbow. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

“How exactly can you help me? Did you find a rune that could block memory instead of magic? A spell to go back in time so I never let this happen? Because unless you have, I don’t see how you can do anything to help.”

He waited for her angry answer, welcomed it even, but she still just looked at him with that same sad, sympathetic expression. Then she kissed him.

What she could find lovable or desirable about him in that moment
 
—angry, tearful, and terrified, not even half the man she thought she’d married
 
—he couldn’t fathom. But she seemed determined to make him believe that none of that mattered to her. And for a while, at least, he did.

Aine crept out of bed while the light was still pale and gray, careful not to wake Conor, who seemed to have at last fallen into a dreamless slumber. She had hoped
 
—prayed
 
—that returning to Ard Dhaimhin might help him shake off those memories. She’d also believed she could erect a wall between their minds strong enough to separate her from the dreams. Yet the strength of his nightmares, or maybe the strength of their connection, had blasted straight through the barrier until she was as enmeshed in those horrible recollections as he was.

She splashed frigid water on her face from the basin, wishing she could wash away the memories as easily as the tracks her tears had left on her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Aine.”

She straightened to see him watching her from the bed. “For what? You have nothing left to apologize for.”

He patted the bed next to him, and when she came to sit
by his side, he lifted her hand to his lips. “I’ll ask to move to another chamber today.”

“Why would you do that? What’s wrong with this one?”

“Don’t make this harder than it is. Believe me, I hate the fact it happens so often. I would never subject you to that every night. You need your rest.”

For a moment, she thought he was talking about her ability to share his dreams, but then she realized he meant being awakened abruptly at night. She twisted her hand so they could interlace their fingers.

“No. I won’t allow it.”

“You won’t
allow
it?”

“No. You claim you’re doing this for me. And I say no. I need my husband by my side more than I need a full night’s sleep. Do you realize that out of the time we’ve been married, we’ve spent only something like six weeks together?”

“What if I hurt you by accident? I couldn’t live with myself
 
—”

“You won’t. You haven’t. I’m not afraid of you, Conor. You are the gentlest man I’ve ever met.”

The worried look on his face began to fade, and a playful look sparked in his eyes. “I’m not sure ‘gentle’ is a description a warrior wants to own.”

“Oh, but he should.” She climbed back in bed beside him. “It doesn’t mean you’re weak. It simply means you want peace more than glory. That is a very good trait for a father, in my opinion.”

He smiled and placed his hand on her belly, then drew in a breath. “Was that the baby kicking?”

“It was. He must recognize his father’s voice.”

He sighed in what sounded like contentment and pulled her tighter to his side, though he didn’t remove his hand from her
belly. “I wish I could stay here, just like this, and pretend none of the other exists.”

“What’s stopping you?” she asked, her tone teasing.

“Unfortunately, duty calls. I came straight to you when I arrived last night, so Eoghan and the Conclave will expect my report first thing this morning.” He leaned over and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips, then swung his legs over the side of the bed.

She watched him dress. It seemed as though every time they managed a moment of connection, he left her, either physically or mentally.

As if he heard her thoughts, he turned to her and gave her a smile. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

She returned the smile, even though she really didn’t feel it. “I’m counting on it.”

Conor knocked on Eoghan’s door,
hoping he had caught him before he went below for morning devotions. After a moment, the door opened. Eoghan adjusted the strap on his baldric at the same time.

“Conor?” He clasped Conor’s arm and pulled him into a hug, pounding the air from him with his customary enthusiasm. Then he stepped back and scowled. “You look terrible.”

“Nice to see you, too.” But he couldn’t really argue when it was true. He stepped past Eoghan and nudged the door shut behind him. His friend lingered by the door, curiously uneasy.

“What was the situation when you left?” Eoghan asked finally.

“Stable. Quiet. Nuada had things in hand by the second day. He’ll be fine. With the wards and the corridor established, I doubt he’ll see any action.”

Eoghan nodded thoughtfully. “And you?”

Conor knew what he was asking, but he wasn’t about to delve into his feelings on the subject. “I’m fine. What about Ard Dhaimhin? I found Iomhar outside Aine’s chamber last night.”

“Conor, you have to understand, I had no inkling something like this could happen. Aine’s safety has always been a top priority.”

“What?” Conor frowned. “What about Aine’s safety?”

Now Eoghan looked ill. “I was sure she would have told you. There was an attempt on her life. It failed, thanks to Iomhar’s intervention.”

“What?” Conor shouted. “Someone tried to kill my wife and no one told me?”

“On her orders.” Eoghan gestured to a chair. “Please, sit. I need to back up to what precipitated this.”

The story Eoghan told him about Keondric’s soul being present alongside Niall’s in one body would have been unbelievable had Conor not already witnessed unbelievable things. When Eoghan got to the part about Murchadh’s halfhearted attempt to murder Aine, he felt like he was going to burst. He gritted his teeth so hard he thought they might crack.

“So essentially, Niall is trying to make his own version of the Rune Throne, which he can use only because of Keondric’s presence. Aine is the sole one who can reach Keondric, so therefore Niall wants her dead. Did I get that correct?”

“That’s what we believe, aye.” Eoghan held out a hand in supplication. “There is no way we could have anticipated this.”

“No, but Niall seems to have anticipated our actions fairly well. Especially if he had the foresight to plant Murchadh in Ard Dhaimhin years ago. I want to speak with Murchadh.”

“You can’t. He’s dead.”

“Suicide?”

“Aine suspects Morrigan, but the truth is we don’t know.”

“There seems to be much you don’t know,” Conor snapped, then tempered his voice. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . . too much. I’m going to assemble the Conclave, and then I need you to get
a couple of items from the library.” He detailed the things he wanted and then made his way to the door.

“Conor? It’s good to have you back.”

“Thank you. Even if we both know I can’t stay long.”

Eoghan’s expression showed he knew, had been thinking the same thing but had been afraid to broach the subject. “If I had any other choice
 
—”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s exactly what I would do in your place.”

Conor returned to Carraigmór’s hall, already fighting a wave of bleary exhaustion. Focusing on Eoghan’s words had taken far more of his energy than he wanted to admit. After giving the order to convene the Conclave, he wandered around the great hall, stopping before the Rune Throne. Somehow it managed to both dominate the room and repel observers, much like the warding on the Hall of Prophecies. Imagine if they knew what rune had been used for that. It would be worth the loss of their fading skills if they could bear a rune that made the enemy unconsciously stay away. Of course, that could always have unintended consequences. Magic, especially runic magic, usually did.

When the men began to trickle into the hall, Conor greeted them with a vague smile, though he still felt detached. It had been so long since he’d had a full night of sleep, everything had taken on a hazy, dreamlike cast. In some way, it made these difficult decisions easier.

Riordan was one of the last to enter the room, and instead of keeping his distance like the others, he immediately crushed Conor into a bone-breaking hug. It cracked his numbness for just a moment. “Welcome back, son.”

Eoghan appeared with two rolled sheets of parchment under one arm and gave Conor a nod of affirmation. The other men stood as he entered. “Brothers, take a seat please.”

“So, they’ve no doubt told you you’re the talk of Ard Dhaimhin,” Eoghan said with a grin.

Conor frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t know?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Eoghan exchanged a glance with Riordan that set a nervous shimmy in Conor’s stomach. “Will someone tell me what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Conor,” Riordan said. “We were just under the impression that you’d done it intentionally. The corridor between the fortresses
 
—”

“Aye, which was done intentionally
 
—”

“Has expanded.”

Conor blinked. “Expanded? I don’t understand.”

“Didn’t you play your harp on the way back?”

He nodded, even though he no longer remembered what he had played.

“Whatever you did pushed the boundaries of the wards beyond the passage between the fortresses. It bled over into the mountains, liberated villages that had been isolated by the sidhe for months.”

Conor still stared, uncomprehending.

“We had the first travelers arrive at Ard Dhaimhin from this side of the Sliebhanaigh mountains, looking for supplies,” Eoghan said. “The sidhe had been keeping them corralled, essentially, starving them to death as they fed on their fears. Your wards somehow swallowed up their towns and liberated them.”

“They’re speaking of you as a hero,” Riordan added.

How could he be a hero for something he hadn’t even intended to do? It had been a happy accident, if anything. If they were hoping he could reproduce that action, they would be sadly disappointed.

He focused on the strategic implication. “That should restrict the movement of any ensorcelled men, at least. It will have killed anyone who was under the druid’s direct influence.”

“Aye, but the ensorcelled men aren’t our biggest problem now,” Gradaigh said. “The wards will keep out the army, but they are no longer a defense against Niall himself.”

“Nor Niall’s men inside Ard Dhaimhin.” He could barely grit out the words.

“Aine told you?” Riordan asked.

“Eoghan told me. He’s not going to stop now that he knows she can target his weakness.”

“Maybe not.” Eoghan exchanged a significant look with Riordan.

“What?”

“Niall made some telling comments to Aine about your baby. He seems to believe she’s tapping into the child’s powers.”

Conor went cold when he understood what they were saying. Not only was Aine a target but his baby was too? “You think he wants the child?”

“It’s a possibility,” Eoghan said. “Which means they’re both safe
 
—relatively speaking
 
—for a few more months. But it also means he has another reason to breach Ard Dhaimhin.”

Nausea built inside him
 
—his wife and child the target of a madman. But there was another possibility they weren’t considering. “What if this is all a distraction?”

Perplexed looks circulated the table. “How?” Fechin asked.

Conor gestured for the scrolls Eoghan had brought and unrolled them on the table. “This is a map of the Old Kingdom, before the modern fortresses were built. You already know that the runes are contained on the standing stones, which were used as the foundations for the old dún. What if this is just a big game of misdirection? We throw our efforts into protecting
Carraigmór while he quietly takes the fortresses? And once he has all the runes, it matters very little what we do.”

“What are you proposing, then?” Riordan asked.

“That depends. How confident are you in your ability to protect the Rune Throne?”

“Ard Dhaimhin is secure,” Gradaigh said.

“Is it really? The last time the druid laid siege on Ard Dhaimhin, he was halfway up the steps before anyone noticed his presence. It was only because of Riordan’s gift that he was stopped. If he knows he can slip beneath the wards now, there’s nothing to stop him.”

“Ah, but you’re forgetting one thing,” Eoghan said. “Keondric’s presence allows him to take the shield rune without dying, which acts as a barrier between his sorcery and the wards. But it also suppresses his magic. He can’t do both. If he comes to Ard Dhaimhin, he has to do so without his sorcery.”

“Which would make him vulnerable. There’s no reason he would do that.”

“Exactly.”

At least that was one thing he didn’t have to worry about for now. “In that case, our best chance of stopping him is to prevent him from getting the remaining runes.”

He removed a fistful of hand stones from his belt pouch and began to place them on various points of the map. “These are all his targets he has yet to strike.”

“Twelve,” Fechin said. “Plus the four that he’s already taken. You think the runes have been scattered across sixteen fortresses?”

“So far, all the fortresses he’s taken have been ring forts, the earthen ones that were erected by the ancient clans prior to Daimhin’s arrival. All the stone fortresses, and those carved out by magic like Ard Dhaimhin and Ard Bealach, were done
hundreds of years later. The druids must have found some significance in putting them in the places of the Old Kingdom.”

“But some of them have been destroyed.”

“Aye. Only nine of these are intact fortresses, but the stones are too large to be moved. I’d venture to say they’re still there. Our best chance is to beat Niall to these fortresses and destroy the rune stones before he can collect them.”

“As soon as he finds out about it, you will be a target too,” Eoghan said.

“That’s why it’s going to have to be a coordinated effort. And we’re going to need Aine to help.”

Conor outlined the plan as it formed, the pieces falling into place almost as quickly as he could speak them. They would assign several groups of men to go to the locations of the other stones. Because there were locations that no longer had walls, those were the least likely to have people who needed to be persuaded. They would send other brothers to those. Conor would focus on those that were likely to have sidhe activity and erect wards around them at the same time.

“I will have to strike the fortress that’s nearest the sorcerer’s last known location,” Conor said. “After that, he’ll know what we’re attempting to do, and he’ll either try to crush us with numbers or beat us to the next fortress. I suspect, traveling light and fast, we’ll be able to reach our destination first.”

“It’s a risk,” Eoghan said. “A big risk.”

“Aye. It’s a risk. Do you see any alternative?”

The men looked at each other, resignation in their expressions. Eoghan shook his head. “No. We’ll do it. Pick your men. We’ll need to select only those who can see the runes. Otherwise they’ll have no idea what they’re looking for.”

“I’ll go,” Riordan said.

“No,” Conor and Eoghan said simultaneously.

“You’re needed here,” Eoghan continued. “Should something happen to me, Riordan, you are the next in command.”

Riordan didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t argue.

“We need to do this quickly, before he has a chance to move on another fortress.” Conor studied the map. “If I were to guess his next move, I’d say he’s going to hit Glas Na Baile next.”

“Why not Gorm Lis?” Dal asked. “It’s closer to his last conquest than Glas Na Baile.”

“It is, but the terrain is rougher and it’s closer to our borders. If you look, he’s moving from north to south in a relatively straight line. I’d guess it’s because he can travel faster in the meadowlands.”

The room fell silent as they all contemplated the impossible mission ahead of them. It was easy to say they could do something, but Conor knew better than any of them how the easiest missions
 
—such as Ard Bealach
 
—had unforeseen consequences. Had it not been for that bloodless victory, Daigh would be with them today, debating this issue with his usual blend of practicality and bile.

“There is one last thing to consider,” Eoghan said. “If we succeed in this, Niall will be desperate. He will throw every last resource at Ard Dhaimhin to get the Rune Throne.”

Conor nodded solemnly. “And it will be your job to be ready for him.”

They talked over other matters affecting the city, but Conor just let them slide through his mind. Eoghan and Riordan had taken command of the city while he was gone, leaving no place for him in the conversation. He would be leaving again soon, had known it would become necessary ever since Larkin had questioned him at Ard Bealach. Now he just had to figure out how to break the news to Aine.

When the meeting dissolved, Eoghan drew Conor aside.
“I didn’t want to discuss it before the Conclave, but there’s still the matter of the prisoner.”

Somhairle. Somehow, in his sleepless fog and his reunion with Aine, Conor had forgotten about him. “Is he in one of the lower chambers?”