“Are ye listening?” Cullan demanded, and poked Ardahl in the arm. Conall disappeared faster than an eye could wink.
“Can ye no’ hush, for the sake o’ the gods?” Ardahl turned on Cullan and drew his sword. “Or must I silence ye?”
Cullan fell silent.
*
They reached theirborder to find no massed defenders, no warriors, no enemy guards at all, though watchers there must surely be. The stream ran clean under a cloudy sky, the face of the land seemingly innocent of danger.
The whole train stopped and the men in the first two chariots conferred. Cullan began to push their chariot in, but Ardahl halted him with a growl.
“Hang back.”
“But—”
A fierce glare once more silenced Ardahl’s companion. They waited while a breeze shivered over the land. Clouds boiled and towered on the horizon. The hairs stood up all over Ardahl’s body.
“Somewhat is no’ right,” he said.
Cullan stared at him. “But wha—”
A signal came and the chariots spread out. The chief had decided to press on. They rumbled and splashed through the stream and onto the turf beyond.
Ardahl wondered if the others felt as uneasy as he did.
“Be ready,” he said. He spoke to Conall, who was no longer there, rather than to Cullan. To Conall, as he always had at such time.
Strange, how the bond endured.
Would he die here this day? Was that what Conall had wanted to tell him? Had his friend come for him, to escort him toTír na nÓg?
All too possible, if they met with any enemy, rather than open country.
More slowly now, for the ponies as well as the men behind them began to tire, they traveled on. The land spread out, empty to the eye, and the clouds streamed overhead. Ardahl could smell rain on the wind.
At length, Fearghal drew up again. This time when he turned in his chariot, Ardahl heard him say, “Where is Dacha? Or Brihan’s guards, at the very least.”
“My chief.” Dornach scowled. “Should we turn back?”
Fearghal considered it. In the distance, away toward the west, thunder rumbled. A chill chased its way through Ardahl’s bones.
“’Tis a trap!” he called. He did not know why he said it, had no intention of doing so. The words just came.
Everyone in the lead chariots, including Cathair, stared at him
With a look of disdain, Cathair said, “What makes ye say so?”
Ardahl could only shake his head.
Cathair sneered.
“Brihan is no’ guarding his border,” Chief Fearghal called out. “Moreover, neither is Dacha.”
“Mayhap, chief,” said Dornach with a sideways glance at Ardahl, “they are luring us in so they may—”
“Attack!” someone called from the rear.
The enemy warriors appeared as if by magic, half materializing out of the rocks, the turf, the land itself. In truth, they came from the hills and the copses of trees, but they streamed in so swiftly, Fearghal’s men had barely time to react. And they came from all sides.
