Part 41 (1/2)

”Is there nothing I can do?”

She smiled wanly. ”Can you guard my dreams?”

Her skin was so pale, her eyes so large and dark and bruised-looking, he nearly moaned in pain. ”If I could only . . . But, how, Lady? How does he . . . enter your dreams?”

”I wish I knew. I don't. I don't even know if he does it willfully.”

”Can you not deny him entry? You've taught your waljan to ward against another's Weaves. Is there no Wardweave for Daimhin Feich?”

”I thought there was. But my Wardweaves are useless. Somehow he breaks through them, slides past them, though I Weave them directly against him.”

Catahn's frown deepened. ”Cannot the Meri grant you more strength? Can She not s.h.i.+eld you?”

Taminy shook her head. ”This is a time of testing, Catahn. For me, for all of us. Already, I draw on the Meri's power, but I must determine how to direct it. Somehow, when I direct it at Daimhin Feich, he is not there. It's as if he . . . steps aside.”

”There is nothing I can do? No way I can guard your dreams?”

Taminy squeezed his hands. ”I'd not have you lose sleep, too.”

”I do already. Mistress, must you face him?”

”Is that what you think I'm afraid of-coming face to face with Feich?”

”Is it not? I know I fear for you.”

Taminy's eyelids slid downward as if suddenly too heavy to be borne up. ”Daimhin Feich,” she said, ”does not face anyone or anything cleanly, squarely, honestly. He hides in dreams; he skulks in vapors.” She shuddered, her voice falling to a whisper. ”He touches me, Catahn. In the dark, in the aislinn vapors, in my dreams. His touch is like death, and I seem not to be able to turn his hand away.”

There was such anguish flowing from her that Catahn forgot himself and gathered her into his arms. ”I will find a way to guard your dreams, Lady,” he told her. ”I promise.”

One moment Saefren Claeg was asleep in his uncle's tent, the next he was wide awake, staring into the darkness, hearing rain whisper softly on the oiled fabric overhead. He sweated in the cold, heart pounding an uneven tattoo in his chest.

He gasped, shuddered and sat up. It was not a nightmare that woke him, but a sensation of pure cold panic.

”Uncle?” he panted. ”Uncle Iobert?”

There was no answer, and indeed, when he put out his hand, he found his uncle's bedroll empty. He heard voices from beyond the tent flap-urgent murmurs, no words. As his world righted itself, he came out of his bedroll, pulled on his boots and stumbled outside.

His uncle was there with The Jura and Aine, huddled under the boughs of a large pine, hoods pulled up against the fine drizzle. Aine was speaking, voice low, hands making emphatic gestures. As he approached, Saefren realized others had emerged from tents and lean-tos to join the circle beneath the tree-Leal and Fhada, Hethe Jura, others.

Iobert Claeg glanced up, noted his nephew's presence with a raising of his brows and placed a hand on Aine's shoulder. ”It seems others have had their sleep interrupted,” he said. ”Do I need to ask why you're here?”

Saefren swept damp hair out of his eyes and s.h.i.+vered. ”I don't know why I'm here, Uncle. What's happened?”

Aine turned to him, her face a pale moon in the darkness. ”Daimhin Feich has left Creiddylad this week past. He's crossed over into Deasach lands.”

”And taken the bulk of his forces with him,” added Iobert.

Saefren didn't bother ask how they knew this. ”To what purpose?”

”To gather allies, it would seem. Or so Rodri Madaidh has it. He overtook a tribute caravan bound for Kansbar with gifts for the Banarigh. The caravan drivers understood that their lord had forged an alliance with the Deasach Cwen and intended to march through El-Deasach to attack Airdnasheen from the east.”

”But the Madaidh . . .” Saefren puzzled. ”The Madaidh refused to-”

”As he said,” commented Mortain Jura dryly, ”there are advantages to neutrality. One of those advantages would seem to be invisibility. Feich completely overlooked him and, when the time was right . . .”

Aine grasped Saefren's arm. ”He found Iseabal. He brought Iseabal away from there.”

Saefren swum for a moment in overwhelming relief. He'd hated to leave the girl in Feich's keeping. He looked to his uncle. ”Now what do we do?”

”Alraed Aine believes we should attempt to reach Hrofceaster from the western side to offer reinforcement, but I can't imagine we could get enough troops through the high pa.s.ses to do any good.”

”We can't do nothing!” Aine erupted.

Saefren stayed her with a firm hand on her shoulder. ”Uncle is right, Aine. To take our men into the Gyldan-baenn would be futile and hazardous.”

”But-!”

”Our energies would be better spent elsewhere.” He turned back to Iobert. ”What forces has Feich left in Creiddylad?”

Iobert Claeg's eyes glinted. ”Minimal, I would think, though a little reconnaissance should give the whole tell.”

”Would the Madaidh join in an attack on Mertuile?”

Aine gasped. ”Take Mertuile?”

”Our Cyneric will need a safe capitol to return to,” observed The Jura. ”One emptied of traitors.” He looked to Iobert. ”Perhaps you and I should ride to the Madaidh.”

Iobert nodded. ”And perhaps our young bucks should gain some intelligence of Creiddylad.”

Aine folded her arms and s.h.i.+fted impatiently. ”And our refugees?”

”Would be welcome among the Graegam.” That Chieftain stood at The Claeg's shoulder. ”Graegam is the closest stronghold. From there, you could make your way to Halig-liath.”

”We? You think I should go with them?”

”It would be safest for you, Alraed.”

Aine glanced from one Chieftain to another, her eyes finally coming to rest on Iobert. ”You also wish me to go up to Graegam with the others?”