CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Eoghan trudged toward the meeting place, preparing himself. He hadn’t spoken with Liam since the revelation in the Hall of Prophecies, and the Ceannaire had been content to leave him to wrestle with his thoughts in peace.

As had Comdiu. Perhaps the Almighty didn’t appreciate that his lowly servant was angry with Him.

Eoghan wasn’t angry, though. Not really. It wouldn’t do any good if he were. He’d chosen a life at Ard Dhaimhin when he committed himself to the leadership of the brotherhood. He’d taken one possible avenue Comdiu had offered him —to train Conor as his apprentice —knowing full well it meant that his friend would leave the High City in his place.

Apparently Liam had decided Eoghan had sulked long enough, because he’d summoned him to the practice yard where the elder brothers and the Conclave sometimes trained in private. But when Eoghan reached the clearing, he found only Liam, working through his sword drills alone, one impressive form after another.

Conor had been extraordinarily talented, truly. How else could he have gone from a weakling to one of the brotherhood’s most skilled warriors in only three years? Even so, watching Liam now, Eoghan knew Conor shouldn’t have been able to beat the Ceannaire. Comdiu had surely orchestrated Conor’s release from the brotherhood, just as it seemed Comdiu had determined Eoghan would never leave.

Liam turned and broke off his form.

“You summoned me?” Eoghan asked.

Sweating but still breathing easily, Liam nodded and crossed to where several weapons lay on a flat rock. He selected a blunt sword and tossed it to his apprentice.

Eoghan automatically caught it by the grip, the movement pulling at his healing flesh.

“Still in pain?”

“Not much. Well enough to train. Well enough to fight.”

“Good. I’m giving you a céad.”

Eoghan paused in the middle of an experimental stroke with the sword. “Sir?”

“Only to train. Not to lead. When the battle comes to Carraigmór, I’ll expect you to be safely behind walls.”

Eoghan lowered the weapon. “I’m no coward, Master Liam. I can fight.”

Liam put up his own sword and moved closer. “I know. It is not for your sake that I ask this; it’s for the safety of the brotherhood. You remember what I said when I showed you the chamber?”

“Keondric must not be allowed to access it. You think he will try to force you to let him in.”

“He will try. He will fail. And then he will not hesitate to torture the name of my successor from the other men. Your identity will not remain secret for long.”

“What happens if I’m killed? I haven’t chosen a successor yet.”

“I don’t know,” Liam said. “It’s never been a question. Perhaps anyone could gain access. Or no one. Either scenario would be just as disastrous as allowing Keondric in. When the fighting starts, I will lock you inside the chamber. It is the only way to be sure you and the Hall remain safe.”

Eoghan exhaled a long, heavy breath. “It feels wrong. You taught me never to run from a fight.”

“I also taught you to be strategic and think of the larger purpose behind your actions. By protecting yourself, protecting our secrets, you ensure the safety of Seare. Will you do what I ask?”

Obey.

Eoghan closed his eyes for a brief moment. Of course now Comdiu chose to speak to him. He opened his eyes and raised his sword. “I will obey.”’

“Good. Now let’s see how much your loafing has slowed you down.”

Eoghan fought a laugh. “You should not test me.”

“And you should have less confidence in your youth.”

Eoghan’s smile broke out at the first ring of metal and then faded again when he thought of the one question he should have asked: “How long do we have until they arrive?”

“I don’t know,” Liam said, sobering. “I just know they’re coming.”

Eoghan moved toward the practice yard where he was to meet his new céad, adjusting the buckle of the sword baldric he had checked out from the armory. Before, the céads had been arranged by age and ability for younger boys, by skill set and function for full brothers. Since Riordan had returned with news of Keondric’s mounting army, however, the Conclave had begun reassigning men into fighting units under battle captains. What that meant for Eoghan’s céad, considering he had been forbidden to fight, he didn’t know. He had just been instructed to evaluate his céad’s readiness and bring up weak skills as quickly as possible.

As he entered the training yard where his hundred men gathered, Eoghan faltered. They were boys, not men. The oldest couldn’t have seen more than fourteen years, the youngest perhaps ten or eleven. Faces turned toward him, expectant, waiting for orders. These boys, too young to be sent out on patrol or trusted with guard duty at the fortress, would now be called upon to fight, perhaps die. Even worse, they might be required to kill boys even younger than themselves. Was this what the brotherhood had been reduced to? Sending boys to do a man’s job?

No, this was not Liam’s choice. It was Niall’s or Keondric’s or whatever he chose to call himself at the moment. The druid would not hesitate to kill the young ones.

Hence Eoghan’s charge to ensure their readiness for battle.

Pushing down his creeping sense of sickness, he faced them and made his expression stern. “I am Brother Eoghan, your new céad leader. You will show me what you’ve learned. Positions.”

Instantly the boys spaced themselves with military precision, practice swords in hand.

“First form,” he barked, and they simultaneously took the first position.

His eyebrows arched upward in surprise. They were young, not particularly strong, but they were well-trained, even by Fíréin standards. He was obviously not taking over an existing céad as he thought but rather one that had been newly formed of the most talented novices and young apprentices.

Eoghan took them through their sword drills at a fast clip, pushing them, looking for weaknesses. By the time he broke them into pairs, his pessimism had faded some. Young they might be, but they possessed a gravity, a maturity, that made him think they had spent most of their lives at Ard Dhaimhin.

He wove through the group as they sparred with their wooden swords, making minor corrections. He stopped beside a pair to watch the smaller of the two. At first glance, Eoghan had dismissed the redheaded boy as the youngest and weakest of the group. Now he saw he handled the sword with the ease of a much older student.

They disengaged and stepped back when Eoghan approached.

Eoghan directed his attention to the younger one. “What is your name, boy?”

“Breann, my lord . . . I mean, sir.”

“My lord? You were raised in the kingdoms.”

“Aye, my l —sir. Faolán.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Two months and a bit, sir.”

“What’s your clan name?”

“I have renounced my clan ties, sir. I am sworn to the brotherhood now.”

Eoghan studied Breann for a moment. Educated, certainly, and with a good grasp of the politics of such a place, even if Ard Dhaimhin differed from the kingdoms. He was clearly a bright boy.

“Very well, Breann. It’s clear you have been trained. Care to have a go with me?”

A cautious smile spread over his face. “Aye, sir.”

“Your guard.”

Breann moved into a respectable guard position while Eoghan drew his sword. The boy’s eyes darted to the weapon’s sharpened edge and then returned to his eyes. Good. He wouldn’t freeze when faced with the real thing. Of course he also trusted that Eoghan, his instructor, wouldn’t harm him.

Eoghan started slowly, and the boy met each strike confidently, countering with ease. Eoghan continued to trade strikes and parries, gradually increasing the pressure until the boy was working harder and harder to keep up. Then, in one swift movement, he disarmed the boy and set the flat of his sword against his neck.

“Well done, Breann.”

“I lost, sir. I would be dead now.”

Eoghan withdrew his blade and looked at the students who had gathered around them to watch. “This is no longer play, boys. There will come a time when you will be facing a man with a real sword who wants nothing more than to kill you.”

Their expressions sobered and a few shifted uncomfortably. “You are young. You do not yet have a man’s strength. That means you must use what you have: energy, speed, intelligence. You must be smarter than your opponent.”

“How do we do that?” one of the younger boys asked.

Eoghan smiled and looked from face to face. He had them now. “I will teach you.”