“Gods, man! What’sthe matter with you?” Finn shouted from above him.
Dallan’s left temple throbbed and his shoulder burned like he’d been branded. A hand appeared in front of his face. Shaking off his confusion, Dallan took it, moving too quickly to his feet. He swayed as he struggled to regain his balance.
“What happened?” Finn asked, furious. “I leave you alone for mere moments and by the time I find you, you’ve nearly gotten yourself killed! You’re lucky Illadan didn’t see such a lapse.”
Dallan couldn’t agree with him more. “I was acting the fool,” he muttered. “I’m fine now.”
Finn looked pointedly at his shoulder, frowning. “You’ll need a healer with a wound such as that. They’ve sent a search party to find the village wisewoman. Many wounded wait for her up at the keep. Let’s get you up there to join them.” Finn took off Dallan’s cloak and tied it about his shoulder quickly and tightly, staunching the flow of blood that Dallan had hardly noticed.
Narrowing his eyes, Finn regarded him. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice filled with concern. “You don’t seem yourself.”
Dallan swallowed. He was many things at the moment; ‘alright’ was not among them. “I’m fine,” he lied, walking away from Niamh’s burning cottage. “Let’s get to the keep.”
As they passed through the smoldering village, Dallan turned several times to make certain Niamh hadn’t reappeared. Worsethan seeing her again, worse than reopening that deep wound, was something that terrified Dallan to his very soul.
Even after all that had happened between them, the moment she disappeared Dallan started missing her all over again.
Together the two warriors walked through the remains of the village toward the keep. This was Dallan’s first opportunity to really take in the destruction in the wake of the bloody battle. Aodh had attacked the villagers, not just the lord in his keep. Which meant he hadn’t come for the keep.
He’d come for blood.
“We routed them, then?” he asked Finn, not seeing other warriors anywhere.
Finn nodded but furrowed his brow. “’Tis more complicated than just that, I’m afraid. We’ve retaken the keep and driven Aodh’s army back north, but Broccan and Illadan worry that his allies will come in a second wave. Or that he’ll divide his forces, circle around, and head straight for Caiseal.”
“Who’s watching them?” Dallan knew Illadan wouldn’t stop following Aodh until he was certain of their full retreat.
“Conan and Cormac went after them with five of Brian’s men. The rest of the Fianna are meeting in the keep to discuss our next steps.”
Dallan looked askance at Finn. “Not Conan and Diarmid?” he asked. The brothers were hardly ever apart from one another. Though Cormac was also their brother, he kept far more to himself.
Finn grinned at that question. “Ah, yes. The, uh, lady of the house is a bit stubborn, but she’s quite taken by our Diarmid’s undeniable charm. He’s the only one she’ll listen to so far, so Illadan kept him around.”
Dallan chuckled. Of course. Nothing about that surprised him in the least.
They climbed the hill up to the keep, Dallan’s shoulder bothering him more the further they went. He bit back a grunt of pain as they neared the top of the hill. His wound needed treatment, though it was far from fatal. He could wait until meeting with the men to see the healer.
The keep was smaller than Caiseal, yet large enough to hold a good many guests in the great hall. The solar couldn’t accommodate all who needed to attend the meeting. The hall was rectangular, having been rebuilt in the newer style recently, but still had the hearth in the center of the room, its hot flames licking the iron grate that surrounded them. Wooden rafters formed a vault toward the center of the room, and the traditional alcoves lined the farthest walls.
In the center of the room, standing around the crackling fire, the Fianna stood, waiting. A woman of middling years, her dark hair woven into elaborate plaits atop her head, sat upon the dais in the queen’s chair. Undoubtedly, this was King Cohal’s wife, Queen Brona. Her back was straight as an arrow, her hands folded in her lap, as she gazed down her nose at the men before her.
He looked at Finn, who rolled his eyes. His brother-in-law was a good man. The best, in fact, else Dallan would never have agreed to his sister’s marriage. But Finn had no tolerance for entitled nobles, even those he was meant to save.
Dallan, on the other hand, understood Brona all too well. Her husband had been killed, she’d lost her keep and a daughter to an invading army, and King Brian’s men had won it back. No doubt she worried over her place after such a debacle. Setting a strong example from the outset was in her best interest.
“You need a healer,” Diarmid remarked, looking at Dallan’s shoulder with furrowed brows as they walked to stand near him. “Illadan!” he called, not waiting for Dallan’s response. “Has she been found yet? The healer?”
Illadan strode over to them, himself inspecting the wound. “She hasn’t,” he mumbled, leaning closer to get a better look.
“Oh, for the love of Christ,” Dallan muttered in frustration. “You lot act like you’ve never seen a stab wound before.”
Illadan narrowed his eyes at Dallan. “I haven’t on one of the Fianna. You were being careless.”
“I was.” Dallan wouldn’t even attempt to deny it. Everyone knew it was the only way he’d have been injured in such a minor skirmish. “It won’t happen again.”
“No,” Illadan replied coolly. “It won’t. You’ll be staying here to guard the keep as penance for your poor judgment.”
Dallan didn’t argue. He’d been trained better than that, though he tightened his fists at his own stupidity. Niamh had always had a way of getting to him. It seemed time hadn’t changed that one bit.
