The cries died to murmurs, and the smoke to a haze.
“It’s done, and well.” Tarryn bent down to Bollocks. “What a fine one you are. As fine as ever born.”
She waited while Breen healed the cut in Bollocks’s paw, smiled as Breen lifted her hand and took that little pain away before healing herself.
“Marg’s taught you well. We’ll stop by and tell her of this, and get word to Keegan.” She walked up the rise again as she spoke to gather what she’d left there. “Odran will be displeased with Yseult when he learns her plans failed.”
“They would have come out tomorrow—on Samhain. Not like simply spirits or wraiths, but reanimated. She would have to sacrifice a fawn, a lamb, and a child—human or Fey—to work that spell. And even then…”
Tarryn nodded. “A great draw of power needed, and for one night’s work.”
“So they could attack the valley while the Pious who turned opened the doors to Odran’s followers in the south. Ambushing on two fronts, all while they believed we didn’t have a clue.”
“Good tactics,” Tarryn said simply while they walked back to Marco and Minga and the horses. “But we have a great deal more than a clue.” She paused by Eian’s grave. “He would be proud of you.”
Then she reached out her hands, one to Minga, one to Marco. “Well now, that’s more than enough excitement for one pretty afternoon, isn’t it then?”
“They were trying to get out,” Marco managed. “Minga said you had to break a spell and cast a new one to keep them inside.”
“So we did.”
“And it’s hardly a wonder you were both pulled here on this day, at this time,” Minga added. “The work you did spared lives. And you.” She leaned over to stroke Bollocks. “What a bright light you are. Do you want to send a falcon to Keegan?”
“I think we don’t risk the writing. I’ll speak to him directly through the mirror.” She mounted and sat a moment studying the ruin. “Thinking this is done, they’ll concentrate their attack on the south, but still, best to post guards here.
“Well, I’m after a strong gallop to blow that stench out of my nose,” Tarryn continued, “I’ll tell you that for certain. And we’ll hope for something stronger than tea from Marg.”
* * *
After his conversation with his mother, Keegan paced the room he currently shared with Mahon. He’d arrived before first light at the southern barracks with only a handful knowing he’d come.
“They dealt with it,” Mahon reminded him. “Do you have any reason to doubt otherwise?”
“I haven’t, no. If my mother says they have it in hand, they do. But it tells me, plainly, they intended to push for more than a southern attack, and have more followers. They would raise an army of Undead in the valley.”
“Where they believe you are, and your mother—the taoiseach and his strong hand. Where they might hope to find Breen during the sabbat ceremonies.”
“Would they risk cutting her down? Corporeal spirits such as this have no restraint, no strategies. They only seek blood.”
Frustration poured out of him as he paced and calculated, calculated and paced.
“They must have at least one or two of Odran’s closer than we thought. He needs her alive, Mahon. Dead she’s of no use to him, and his line through her ends. Someone close enough to lure her away or abduct her during the confusion, I’m thinking.”
“There’ll be no confusion now. But aye, you’ve the right of it. And we’ll need to root out whoever’s been planted close to home.”
“And here.”
Keegan started to sit, couldn’t. The room boasted a single window, but he couldn’t make use of it without risking being seen.
“Toric, as we both suspected, is surely the leader of this blood cult here. Ah, he speaks in a quiet voice, keeps his head bowed, wears his simple white robes, but he reeks of ambition.”
Mahon poured them both ale. “Sit, by the gods, brother, before you wear me out. I’ve spoken to him about trading with those who train here and guard the south. Very usual and diplomatic, of course, while letting it be known I leave for my son’s birthday tomorrow.”
“We’ve given him his freedom to worship as we must, as is just. And he twists that freedom to take that choice from others, and take lives with it.”
From a cautious distance, Keegan stared out the window. “He won’t know the balmy breeze from the sea for much longer.”