A piercing scream pulled Finn out of his unconsciousness a second before Maeve slapped his face.

  “Finn!” Maeve yelled. “Wake up, you buck eejit! We have to run!”

  Finn rubbed his chest, a futile attempt to soothe the tingling inside his lungs. “Quit your keening, Maeve,” he said. “I’m fine.”

  “I wasn’t keening—Ferg, help me out,” Maeve said, pointing to Finn.

  Fergal stepped forward and lifted Finn off the ground.

  Maeve’s struggled to shout over the undead screams. “To the horses! After Niall.”

  Finn’s eyes focused on the Niall-shaped blur ahead of him. A dearg due on his right had disengaged and now hissed at Niall as it held a maimed right arm. Niall swung both weapons in a wide arc ahead of him as if he were clearing a path through the woods. The tactic worked; he had advanced several yards off the bridge and neared the horses.

  Finn stabilized his balance but toppled back into Fergal as he grabbed the sides of his head. “I’m fine,” Finn told Fergal. “That screaming is vibrating my head.”

  “That’s why we have to run,” Maeve said. “She’s not doing that because she’s in pain. That is the sound of something calling for help.”

  The scorched leader’s right hand pulled on the flaming arrow lodged in its ribs, pausing every few seconds to scream into the air. A gash across its right bicep shrank and faded before Finn’s eyes.

  Even Maeve is struggling to hit them.

  Maeve grabbed Fragarach and ran behind Niall toward the horses. She slapped Finn’s horse on its haunch and sent it away.

  “So he’s riding with me?” Fergal asked.

  Maeve shook her head. “With me. Put him on the back of my horse and face him backwards.” She fastened her bow and threw a length of rope in front of the saddle horn.

  Finn and Fergal traded worried looks. Finn breathed into his cupped palm and shrugged at his oversized friend.

  “Care to share the rest of your plan?” Fergal said.

  She threw a leg over her horse, Fragarach still in hand, and held out the rope. “Niall’s going to lead us down that road after Rory’s people. We’ll trail and our sleepy friend here will fend them off. But we have to go now. Lash us together, back-to-back, and help Niall.”

  The woods stirred to the east and south. Branches rustled. A faint hiss sounded from behind. Maeve’s horse blew out of anxiousness as the weight on its back shifted to accommodate the extra weight. Maeve pointed as soon as Fergal’s hands left the last knot.

  “Go!” she said. She moved her horse onto the bridge and faced west. “Have the reinforcements arrived?”

  “I don’t see them,” Finn said. “But I believe so.”

  “Gentlemen,” Maeve shouted. “When you’re good and ready.”

  Niall pushed forward from the bridge, putting his foes on their heels. Fergal followed his lead and kept the burned creature from flanking his elder.

  “Finn, we’ll need your help,” Niall said.

  “Hai, just go,” Finn said. “Pléasca? guirid!”

  Fergal and Niall ducked from the blast of heat and ran to the horses. Finn’s spell caught his undead tormentor square in the chest and knocked her twenty feet backwards.

  Stay down.

  Niall rode past Maeve’s horse with Fergal close behind him.

  “Hold on!” Maeve said.

  “To what?” Finn asked.

  Maeve answered by urging her horse forward. Finn almost slipped off its back. Maeve cursed and leaned forward, pulling Finn farther up the steed’s back.

  “You’ll have to keep your balance with your upper legs and thighs,” she said.

  “Why didn’t you just let me in the saddle and you pick them off?” Finn asked.

  Maeve jerked her elbow into Finn’s back.

  “Of course,” Finn said.

  To Finn’s dismay, the original dearg due did not stay down, though she now hobbled behind the pack of four that emerged from the woods. Two more sprinted out of the woods to the south.

  “There’s the turn!” Niall yelled over his shoulder. “Thirty feet ahead!”

  Finn let loose with another blast of heat at the leader of the four on his left. It struck with enough force to knock the creature back onto its crew. With no trees or roadblocks between them, the pair on his right had closed within fifteen feet of Finn and Maeve.

  Finn hurled a fireball at dearg due on the inside. He struck the creature running on the outside instead, catching it in the knees. It tumbled head over heels twice and landed on all fours. Its partner was close enough to prepare for a strike.

  “My sword?” he asked Maeve.

  “If you need the sword, the moment’s lost already,” she said.

  Finn pulled in his left hand and shoved his right forward as Maeve eased her horse through the turn northward.

  “Tórann nert!” Finn yelled.

  The fishhook motion he used to tap Mag Ionganaidh was too narrow, however. The energy overloaded during the exchange and the wave of thunder Finn intended resulted in a minor explosion. It launched the dearg due into the woods and out of view. Some of the concussive force fired backwards, throwing Finn and Maeve to the ground and knocking over their horse. “Arms in!” Finn yelled as they fell.

  The pair spun in midair and it was Finn’s right hip that hit the ground first. Maeve’s weight pressed into him and they flopped to the side. Finn slammed onto his right shoulder and his eyes flashed white when their momentum carried his head to the ground. He rubbed his head and blinked until the forest came into focus.

  “Maeve? You hurt?”

  “Nothing that needs magic to fix,” she said. “I can’t untie the knots on this rope. Sit up. Quickly.”

  “Sorry?” Finn asked.

  “‘Quickly,’” Maeve said. “It means at a speed much, much faster than you’re moving. Now dig your feet in and push into my back. It’ll get us standing when I do the same.”

  “Now can I have my sword?”

  “‘Fraid not, Master Ollav,” Maeve said. A scraping noise sounded from her waist. “My bow is pinned under the horse.” The rope around his waist pulled on his stomach as Maeve dragged her scian over their binding. The rope broke with a dull snap the and two bodies jerked away from each other.

  “They’re coming,” Maeve said, pointing into the woods northeast of the crossing.

  “We’re badly outnumbered,” Finn. “I’m meant to use nothing but magic?”

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  “The numbers aren’t that terrible,” Maeve said. “You didn’t hear Fergal and Niall yelling? They’ll be here shortly. Besides, your magic clearly needs practice.”

  Finn got in Maeve’s face. “Ah, here—”

  “—Just take it,” Maeve said, slamming her scian's grip into Finn’s hand. “Focus, please.”

  “This isn’t over.”

  “That’s what I’ve been tryin’ to tell you,” Maeve said.

  She shoved his right shoulder blade to spin him toward the woods.

  Shadows darted from right to left between the trees and grew in size. The hooves of Fergal’s and Niall’s pounded the road as the men approached from the north.

  “More fireballs and wind, please,” Maeve said as she took a ready stance.

  Finn exercised greater with his arm movements as he sent forth another thunderous wave. Several dearg due noted his deliberate motion and ducked behind the nearest trunk. The trees shuddered but held fast.

  Three of the creatures jumped from cover and neared the road. Maeve pulled Fragarach close and yelled as she pushed it forward, “Nertaid.” The sword was an amber blur as she ran at the pursuers.

  Finn squared on them to support Maeve. As he pulled his left hand back, he heard the two undead that had arrived from the south, rushing toward his right flank. Finn pushed his right hand to the side without shifting his position. “Pléasca? guirid!”

  Finn’s heat blast knocked the legs out from under one of them, and that undead slammed face first into the road. He pulled back his right hand and dropped the knife from his left. With a quick glance at the monsters attacking Maeve, he shoved his left hand forward and knocked one of her attackers back into the forest.

  “Oi!” Fergal yelled. He dashed to Maeve’s left side holding his poleaxe above his head and brought it down on the nearest creature, leaving a wound that would be mortal for a human.

  A muffled boom sounded from west behind them.

  “Don’t stop,” Maeve told Fergal. “In a minute that thing will look like a scratch on it.” She swung at the undead opposite of her but keeping it at arm’s length was all she could manage.

  The other dearg due approaching from the south neared Finn. The creature pulled back its hand to attack. It was the opening he needed. “Lá?a tiene!” A tongue of fire appeared in front of his outstretched hand and expanded outward in a conical shape. The monster was too close to escape the fire’s reach and its torso was fully engulfed by the time Finn ended the spell.

  Another boom. Louder and better defined.

  “Maybe give the thunder a break for now,” Maeve said, “before you hurt yourself.”

  Niall gave Finn a pat on the back and handed him Maeve’s knife. “It wasn’t Finn,” Niall said.

  “Get over here, Niall,” Maeve said. “The original one finally arrived. It’s four and a half versus the two of us.”

  “Just four,” Fergal said. “I think I finally finished that one.”

  “I’m coming,” Niall said, running over to help.

  Two dull thuds approached from behind, followed by the loudest boom yet. The ground under Finn’s feet vibrated, distracting him from undead woman who had pushed her face out of the dirt and hurried toward Finn once more.

  A shadow blanketed the road around the fighting. Finn winced as heavy step landed just behind his right side. A gigantic foot swung into view, kicking the creature in front of him over the treeline and out of sight.

  Finn's eyes followed the foot and nearly fell backwards as he looked up. It was attached to a twenty-foot frame standing upright with two arms and legs. A giant man, mostly shrouded in thick brown hair, loomed over them. Every visible feature was bony and pointed, whether it was his knees, elbows or cheeks. The dearg due fighting Finn’s comrades ceased their fight with the sílrad and hissed at the giant.

  A low rumble sounded from the north. How many of these things are there? Finn wondered. He sidled closer to Maeve. “Did we trade bad for worse?” he whispered.

  The giant leaned forward and brought his face close to the undead women and scowled. He shifted his bottom jaw forward and vibrated his throat.

  “We should leave while ‘bad’ and ‘worse’ duke it out,” Maeve said.

  “Where?” Finn asked. “If that isn’t Rory’s company approaching from the north, we’re on our own with no plan.”

  The remaining dearg due stepped toward the giant and attempted to surround him. The giant grinned and patted them back together like a dozen eggs rolling across a table. He brought his face within three feet of the bunched creatures and bellowed, “Go on, you!”

  The creatures backed into the forest. Within a few minutes the noise approaching from the north drowned out the undead retreat through the forest.

  Satisfied the dearg due had withdrawn for good, the giant turned towards Niall and Maeve. He kept his face close as he studied each mortal with his deep set eyes, each wider than half a foot. Satisfied the sílrad were no threat, he relaxed his face and let his jaw hang open. Finn and Fergal choked as the giant’s noxious breath spread through the clearing.

  “It’s Rory after all!” Niall yelled, pointing to the north. “Perhaps just in time.”

  The giant kept low but turned his head toward the approaching company. Finn squinted and watched the three-foot-tall face for any change in expression and caught only a slight narrowing of the eyes.

  Rory said nothing as they dismounted and approached the scene, their weapons left with the horse. They examined every exposed body part of Maeve’s group, likely an injury assessment, and then smiled at the giant. “Howya, Sean?”

  Sean grinned. “These four belong to you, I take it?” he asked. His voice boomed low and warm, like the lower drones of a bagpipe with none of the competing overtones.

  “Not quite,” Rory said. “They’re mortals.”

  Sean nodded. “That explains the smell. What are they doing out here alone?”

  “They were hungry.”

  “Not as hungry as the lasses chasing them,” Sean said.

  “How did they fare?” Rory asked.

  “Better than expected.” Sean pointed to Finn. “This one here almost cost them dearly. He’s lucky to be walking.”

  The horse! Finn thought. He ran to the horse, It still lay on its side. He checked its legs. No breaks. Unbelievable. The horse’s breath was ragged and a few drops of blood lay on the ground under its mouth. Its head jerked as if it meant to stand but dropped as the pain increased.

  “Ribs?” he asked Maeve.

  “Broken, likely,” she said. “Can you heal them?”

  “I can, but Siobhan says set the broken bones before using any healing magic.”

  “Hard to do with ribs,” she said.

  Finn pointed to the horse’s head. “Doesn’t that mean it has a punctured lung?”

  “Sometimes,” Maeve said. “I don’t know what you want from me right now. I can’t see inside this thing any more than you can!”

  “S’alright, Maeve,” Finn said. “None of this is your fault. You’re merely helping me. I can still heal him, it’s just that if his lung’s punctured the process will take longer and it will be all the more painful for the horse.”

  “Grand,” Maeve said. “Not grand, just—you know what I mean. I’d still do something for its legs. We can’t see any horrid breaks, but it doesn’t mean they’re without fractures or bad sprains.”

  Finn showed Maeve a wide smile. “See? You’re doing brilliantly.” He started a fishhook cast. “Cnáim slánaigidir.” A sky blue glow overtook his eyes and radiated from his hands. He held his right hand an inch above the horse’s hindquarters and moved it along the rib cage. At first the horse’s ribs sounded like Niall’s joints every time he sat and stood.

  As he reached the midpoint of the rib cage, he heard a louder pop. The horse’s ears pointed backwards as it jerked its head and screamed.

  “Something’s punctured,” Finn said. “Underneath.” He looked at Maeve and shifted his eyes toward the horse’s head.

  Maeve slid around and laid on her side, meeting her mount face-to-face. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing. She opened them and smiled at the horse as she rubbed its ears, speaking to it in a volume even Finn couldn’t hear.

  Finn continued moving his hand forward until it reached the horse’s shoulder and the blue glow faded. He repeated the cast and invocation and as his hand started across the horse’s body he looked to Rory. “This could be awhile.”

  Rory squatted next to Finn. “If the poor beast is suffering—”

  “—He is,” Finn said. “And it’s my fault.”

  “You can’t put another living thing through something like this because you feel guilty,” Rory said. “It’s as cruel as it is selfish.”

  “I’m not unfamiliar with the concept!” Finn yelled. “I can help him! Niall, show ‘em your hand!”

  “You did that?” Rory asked.

  “No,” Finn said. “But I can do this. Please let me do this.”

  “Lad,” Rory said, resting a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “It’s not your f—”

  “—Rory,” Maeve said. “Let him finish. I think it’s working.”

  “You ‘think?’”

  “I really do.” Welling collected on the right side of her nose near the corner of her eye.

  “How long will it take?” Rory asked.

  “Tough to say,” Finn said. “This is my third pass and the noises from inside are softer. If the current rate holds, this will take no longer than an hour.”

  “That’s it?” they asked. “We’ll be riding him in an hour?”

  “Absolutely not. He might walk on his own in an hour. Slowly at that. I wouldn’t put anyone on his back for a while.”

  Rory looked to Maeve for agreement and received a nod. “I’ll take the company up to Dóchasach on patrol. Sean won’t stray too far in case those ladies come calling again. If our friend here can’t maintain this rate of recovery by the time we return, I’ll make the tough decision. Questions?”

  “Hai,” Fergal said. “Just one. Will no one explain the nature of our oversized friend here?”

  “Sean’s a grúagach,” Finn said. “Hairy and giant. Straightforward.”

  Sean raised his hands and pointed his palms at Finn. “I’d like to think there’s more to me than that, lad. Where’s your wonder? There’s less than two handfuls of us left here.”

  “Exactly whose hands are we using to measure that?” Niall said with a wink.

  “So they named you ‘grúagach’ after the river?” Maeve asked.

  Sean laughed. “The other way ‘round,” he said. “Some say it was our ancestors who dredged this river by dragging their clubs behind them. This was back when there was less of Tír fo Thuinn under the waves, when Uargal overlooked a valley and not an ocean.”

  Finn’s eyes widened. His hand almost stopped its healing ritual. “That’s where this land gets its name?”

  Sean dipped his head and raised his eyebrows. “You know, I don’t have to hide in the trees. Let me sit with you people awhile. At least until Rory returns.”