Conan caught her furious gaze. “And I deserve every ounce of your anger for it.”
“Will you not yield?” she begged. “You know how important this bridge is to our town.”
“I wish that we could, but we must destroy it.” Illadan lifted his voice, addressing the crowd at large that had gathered. “You should go home. We do not wish to harm you, and this is a fight you cannot win.”
As if to emphasize that point, Teague stepped over to stand beside Conan. “I’m sorry, Alannah, but this is a matter of great political weight.”
A hole opened in Conan’s chest when he saw the look of disbelief that washed over Alannah. But she recovered quickly, tightening the grip on her dagger and unsheathing her sword.
Conan swallowed hard, hesitating. The doubt that had begun when he first realized how much he cared for Alannah sprang up with renewed vigor. Was he on the right side here? All oaths and lies aside, she made a fair point. Was the political situation here actually more important than the impact of the bridge on the people of Ath Luain? For the first time since he’d joined the Fianna, Conan felt that he stood on the wrong side of the cause.
Teague’s suggestion swirled through the chaos of his thoughts. Before he could think better of it. Conan walked over to Alannah and turned to face off against the Fianna.
Chapter Thirty-One
“What the hellare you doing?” Illadan shouted, fury etched into his features.
“What I should have done sooner.” Conan looked at Alannah, her sky blue eyes wide in shock.
Teague grinned at Conan, moving beside him. “If the Fianna are divided, then I must choose a side. And I stand by my brother.”
Illadan swore, the only time Conan had heard him do so. Finn and Dallan stared at Conan in disbelief.
“Conan, be reasonable,” Illadan ordered. “Are you truly prepared to break your oath over this?”
That question should terrify him. It should make him reconsider his decision. But it didn’t. A blanket of calm descended around him and with it, clarity. He answered without hesitation.
“I am.”
Illadan’s face fell as he drew his sword, nodding for Dallan and Finn to carry on with the plan.
Conan charged them, intending to block them from lighting the causeway, but Illadan moved in his way. His sword came down in a blow that would have severed Conan’s neck had he not blocked it.
Finn and Dallan dove in, shouting. Finn grabbed Illadan. Dallan took hold of Conan.
Illadan glared at him. “Conan, no matter your skill you can’t fight all of us at once.”
“He’s not fighting you alone,” Alannah ran toward them, Teague and his men right behind her.
“Stop it, all of you!” Ardál yelled, sprinting back down the bank toward them. “We have bigger problems than Conan’s divided loyalties.”
Before Conan could question him, the crowd around them started shouting. From the bridge, the sound of swords clashing echoed over the moonlit water. A scream followed, then another. Conan’s breath caught as the causeway ignited somewhere near its center.
Alannah swore, charging across the bridge.
“Who’s out there?” Conan called. He and the other Fianna followed only steps behind her.
“Glasny,” she called over her shoulder as she ran.
They’d not gotten far when Glasny met them, bleeding and panting. The moment he reached Alannah, he placed a hand on her shoulder and bent to catch his breath. Sweat plastered his auburn hair to his red face, dripping in beads over his cheeks. A quick assessment told Conan his wounds weren’t mortal, though the gash on his thigh would need treating to keep it from festering. He’d hate to see the man lose a leg, or worse.
“What happened?” Alannah looked from Glasny to the burning bridge half a mile in front of them. “Are you alright?”
“I came around from the other side, just as you said. When I reached the center, I found Oran’s friends dumping oil. I tried to stop them, but my swordskill isn’t what it used to be.”
Oran had been talking with two men just earlier. Could that have been what they discussed? Something about it had felt odd, but Conan had assumed Oran was up to his usual sorts of villainy.
“Oran wasn’t with them?” he asked.
