energy of the dark druids attack and then slammed the iron shod tip of the staff to the ground. Using the staff as a conduit he drew from the Earth’s own vast pool of power just the amount required and sent it exploding through their enemies, cracking bone and crushing spirit.
If they were allowed to survive, they would never again work the sort of powerful spells that made them so dangerous. Riordan meant for them to live as a warning to anyone who would turn his own against him in the future. He would use these two broken men to send a message to the twisted parodies of druids that the order remained and had access to power they could never hope to match. The message was simple really; “I live, and I am coming to reclaim my own.”
Aeden barely took note of what Riordan had done, so lost was he in the blood lust that his sword fed like a wildfire. There were no enemies before them left to face, but the smell of blood and the ring of steel still filled the air to the rear and he ran to join the fight. No more than a dozen steps separated him from where Faolan and Fianna stood back to back fighting for their lives against at least a half-dozen soldiers. The carnage on the street around them was testament to their determination. Bodies littered the street; some with ugly gashes from Faolan’s blades, still more sprouting the silver fletched shafts of arrows like some sick parody of a pin cushion.
Aeden could tell that both of his friends bore wounds of their own but continued to struggle against insurmountable odds. He passed Quinn, lying in the snow, a dark stain covering the front of his robe as Teagan cradled him in her arms. The sight of it fueled his rage until it was a white hot fury and his blood boiled until the desire to slay every last soldier in this town consumed him.
He broke upon the knot of attackers surrounding his valiantly struggling friends like a tempest; his assault so sudden and so furious that three of them lay dying before the remainder realized that a new threat had befallen them. Faolan and Fianna themselves shrank from his wrath and the soldiers that they had fought against turned to flee in terror.
He pursued them and their brethren down the street, the need to destroy them utterly filled him and his sword glowed so brilliantly as to seem a beacon in the dark night. Overtaking the fleeing soldiers just as they joined a company of reinforcements he began to slaughter them all in a frenzy that had long since crossed the border of sanity. Few among the soldiery of Luinneach even made attempt to defend themselves so terrible was his visage.
Two officers, mounted on horses were thrown to the cobbles as their mounts went wild in panic, and hurling off their riders, bolted up the street wild-eyed with madness. Only moments later the lopsided battle ended as Aeden cut down the last soldier who had slipped in the snow as he tried to flee the terrifying specter shrouded in white fire that pursued him.
Standing in the falling snow as his blood cooled and the light of his magic faded, Aeden realized that he had pursued his quarry over halfway across the town and right up to the doors of what must have been the garrison. Surely within were more of these soldiers, but none would show their faces, and despite the clamor of battle the town remained dark. As he began his long trek back to find his friends, Aeden was appalled at the gruesome path that he had created. Certainly these men had come to capture or kill himself and his friends, but long after they had reconsidered their foolish attempt, he had hunted them like rats and killed them brutally.
When he finally made it to the inn that had once seemed so hospitable, he found his friends had left. He wondered if they had left him, resolved not to accept the help of one so prone to violent rage. The bodies lay strewn everywhere, but the signs suggested that his friends had escaped and that they had continued on toward the harbor.
Swiftly following his friend’s tracks through the new fallen snow he ignored the pair of tracks leading away from the sea, despite the burning urge to track down these escapees from his rage and dispatch them. The fact that his urge was so strong disturbed him far more than the carnage he left behind him. For the first time he understood why Fianna had been so distrusting of him after the battle on the plains. By comparison this was a slaughter and his first urge was to continue the blood bath.
A sudden whistle from ahead caught his attention and he stopped in his tracks. He didn’t want to give Fianna an excuse to release the shaft he was certain must be aimed at his head. He was very surprised when Riordan stepped out alone to greet him. “Thank you for returning to us Aeden. I had feared you might not return in time to accompany us, and we need you” he said.
“Am I still welcome?” Aeden asked, wondering if his longtime friend could be trusted to answer for all.
“We need you. Finnis and I will rouse what remains of our order, and perhaps we can raise an army, but there is a power backing our adversaries that is not of these shores. If we face one of these foreign gods, we need a god on our side; otherwise we will be as leaves before the wind” Riordan replied.
Aeden shook his head in disgust. “The Morrighan won’t intervene, she told me so herself; as it happens I’m surprised she hasn’t come to claim me as her champion already.”
“I don’t speak of your grandmother Aeden” Riordan said giving his words ample time to register.
Aeden was confused by this comment from his friend, but as its meaning began to filter through the fog in his brain he couldn’t accept what had been staring him in the face the whole time. “You must be daft!” he said even as in his heart he knew that Riordan was right. He was a descendant of the gods, and while he would have relished such news back in Bretharc, he knew enough now to tremble at the thought.
“It’s true and you know it. I do not know which of the Dagda’s daughters your mother is, but I have some suspicions based on the effect you have on animals. It matters very little for the time being, for now it is enough that the power of the gods is in your veins, and we can use that if you will help us” Riordan retorted.
“For so long as I am able, I will fight for your cause my friend, but should the madness take me, please do whatever it takes to protect our friends and allies, even if it means destroying me” Aeden said with resignation. Riordan’s faith in him and the emotional turmoil of finally understanding the mystery of his mother washed over him, leaving him feeling suddenly very alone and incredibly grateful for Riordan’s trust.
“Come Aeden, we have sad business to attend” Riordan said, extending his hand in welcome and comfort.
He knew that one of their number had not survived the battle then. “Quinn?” he asked, sorrow threatening to ignite the flame of his rage once again.
Riordan nodded a mournful expression upon his face. “We would have lost more if not for you intervention” he said, hoping to comfort his friend despite his own grief.
Quietly Aeden allowed Riordan to lead him to the ship which cast off lines and made sail as soon as they stepped aboard. The ship, a single mast long ship, was sufficient to manage coastal waters and the surrounding seas, but it would take a brave crew to take the ship beyond the sight of land in winter.
On the deck, Aeden saw his friends and companions huddled about the still form of Quinn. They had bandaged his wounds, and covered his injuries, but he had clearly been cut and pierced in multiple places. Fianna was arranging his body upon a piece of sailcloth, while Finnis and Teagan worked to tend to Faolan’s injuries, which were many. From the pallor if his skin Aeden wondered if Faolan might not follow soon behind Quinn.
Fianna was still bleeding from numerous places herself but as far as Aeden could tell her wounds were comparatively minor; still, she bled and Aeden felt shamed that he had not one scratch upon his body to show for the battle he had fought. He knew it was irrational but still he felt as if he had not contributed enough, not done enough to prevent this tragedy which had befallen his friends.
Kneeling next to Fianna, he watched as she wiped clean the flecks of blood that had caught at the corners of his mouth. Aeden didn’t understand why he had come to Fianna,
but her presence eased his mind. His grief for his friends overwhelmed him for a moment and a single tear flowed unbidden down his cheek as he wished Quinn a safe journey into the next life.
“A human heart still beats within the breast of a god” Fianna whispered, taking his hand gently. Aeden looked up to find her watching him closely, realizing that he had been avoiding looking into her eyes. He had feared what he might find there, but what he saw was his own grief and worry mirrored within her brilliant green eyes.
A tremor ran through her, and whether from cold of night or loss of blood Aeden could not tell. Perhaps it was the last nervous release from the strain of the life and death battle. Aeden could not say but he quickly wrapped her in a wool blanket, pulling her into his embrace and warming her with his own body.
When Finnis and Teagan had done all they could for Faolan, and the herbs that Finnis had given him to help with the pain had lulled him into unconsciousness, he left Teagan to watch over him while he and Riordan moved to the bow of the ship, waiving Aeden and Fianna over to join them. Finnis poured each of them a small amount of liquid into a cup from a flask in his pouch. “Drink, it will help with both pain and cold, and after we have