Suddenly two of the men rushed in. Connavar swung the Seidh blade in two slashing cuts. Blood sprayed into the air, and the men fell. The other six rushed in, hacking and cutting.
At that moment there was a blast of cold air, and the circle trembled. A bright light shone and a warrior leapt from nowhere. Braefar blinked, his sword falling from his nerveless fingers. This new warrior carried a golden shield of incredible brightness. He rushed at the fighting men, smashing the shield into the face of the first, and cleaving his sword through the ribs of a second.
Braefar looked down at his fallen sword. He wanted to stoop to pick it up, but his legs were trembling, and he feared he would fall if he tried. So he drew his dagger. The sound of sword blades clashing, the screams of dying men, ripped through him and he fell back against a stone column, squeezing shut his eyes, and holding his fists over his ears. He couldn't shut out the sounds, and instead forced his mind to remember happier times, when he and Conn, as children, had played upon the slopes above Three Streams.
The sounds ceased, and Braefar opened his eyes. The new warrior – he saw now it was the bastard, Bane – was standing alongside the king, holding his arm. Connavar's winged helm was lying on the ground close by, dented by a sword blade. There was blood on the king's cheek, dripping to his breastplate. There was more blood upon his left arm. Braefar watched as Connavar loosened his breastplate. Bane pulled it clear. Then the king shrugged out of his mailshirt. Braefar saw two huge bruises on the king's left side, the skin gashed.
The trembling ceased and Braefar tottered forward. Connavar saw him, and his expression changed. Braefar had expected – desired – anger. But there was only sorrow in the king's features.
'Why, Wing?' he asked.
'Why? For all the hurts and humiliations you have piled upon me.'
'What hurts? I love you, Wing. I always have.'
'I know how you have laughed at me all these years. Don't lie to me, Conn. I know.'
'No-one laughed,' said Connavar. 'Not in my presence. Where did you hear such nonsense?' He stepped in towards Braefar. 'Let us put this behind us, Wing,' he said. 'There is a great battle coming…' He reached out to his brother.
'Don't touch me!' yelled Braefar, lashing out, the dagger in his hand almost forgotten. In that fraction of a heartbeat, with his anguish and anger paramount, Braefar tilted his fist. The blade slid between Connavar's ribs. The king grunted and fell back, blood streaming from the wound.
'No! I didn't mean…'
Bane drew his sword and advanced on the slender figure. 'Leave him! Don't kill him!' said the king, and then he slumped to the ground. Bane stood for a moment, his cold eyes locked to Braefar's tortured face.
'Get away from here, you snake!' he hissed. 'If I ever see you again I'll kill you where you stand.'
For a moment Braefar didn't move. Bane's sword came up. Braefar turned and sprinted for the woods.
He ran and ran, legs pumping, heart racing.
Bane was stunned. He thought Riamfada's prophecy had been proved wrong. He and Connavar had killed the rebels, and the king had but a few minor scratches and bruises. But now, as he looked down at the grey-faced man sitting quietly, his back to a column of stone, Bane knew he was dying. The dagger had plunged deep.
As the light faded Connavar began to shiver. Bane removed his own cloak and draped it around Connavar's upper body. 'Are you in pain?' asked the younger man.
Connavar coughed and blood dribbled into his beard. 'A little,' he confessed. 'Where is Wing?'
'He ran into the woods. Why did you want him spared?'
Connavar leaned his head back against the stone. He smiled. 'He's my little brother,' he said. 'I've looked after him all my life.'
'He's a treacherous dog – and he's killed you.'
'I came… here to die,' said Connavar. 'That was the price the Morrigu wanted. I don't know why. She always made it clear that the defeat of Stone was… important. Without me…' He fell silent for a moment. 'What are you doing here, Bane?'
'A friend of yours asked me to come. Riamfada.'
'The little fish,' said Connavar.
'Fish?' queried Bane.
'When he was… human… his legs were useless. Govannan and I used to carry him to the Riguan Falls. We… taught him to swim.'
Bane looked into the pale face of the dying man. 'He was the boy you were carrying when the bear attacked?'
'The same. The Seidh gave his spirit a home.' Connavar groaned, his face contorting. 'Damn, but this little wound is troublesome.' He looked up into Bane's face. 'I am glad you're here, Bane. It would have hurt my soul to die without…' He winced again, his body spasming.
'Don't talk,' said Bane. 'Just rest easy.'
'To what purpose?' asked Connavar, forcing a smile. 'When we lifted the Morrigu I saw many things, and I shared moments of your life. When you won that race, and came running towards me… You remember?'
'Of course I remember. You turned your back on me.'
'I am sorry for that, Bane. When I saw you running ahead of the others I was so proud I thought my heart would break. But I couldn't stay. To have embraced you and acknowledged you as my son would have meant seeing your mother, and I had sworn never to cast eyes upon her again. If I had my life over I would do so many things differently.'
'You blamed her for your own shortcomings,' said Bane, without anger.
'No,' said the king. 'I never blamed Arian. I loved her from the moment I first saw her. The fault was entirely mine. But I had to pay for my evil, for the slaughter of innocents and the death of Tae.' The king lapsed into silence, and Bane thought he had died. The night grew colder.
A movement came from behind. Bane rose and whirled, sword in hand. A straw-haired boy in a faded tunic stood there. He looked startled as Bane swung on him. Bane put away his sword. 'What are you doing here, boy?' he asked.
'I saw it,' said the lad. 'Wolves chased me and I climbed a tree. I saw the fight, and that man stab the king. Is he going to be all right?'
'Gather some wood for a fire,' said Bane, then returned to Connavar's side. Reaching out he touched the king's throat. A pulse was beating weakly there. Connavar's eyes opened, and he reached up, taking Bane's hand.
'I had a vision,' he said. 'I saw myself dying here, but I also saw myself leading a charge against the enemy. I didn't understand how both could be true. I see it now… I see it!' Once more he lapsed into unconsciousness.
The boy gathered wood and laid a fire close by. Then he found several pieces of flint, and Bane sat quietly, listening to the rhythmic strikes of the fire stone. At last a flame caught in the tinder and the wood began to crackle. The boy nursed it to life, then eased himself round to sit on the other side of the king. 'He's not going to die, is he?' he asked.
'What is your name, boy?'
'Axis. The king came here once and gave my da a bull, for ours had died.'
'You keep the fire going, Axis,' said Bane gently. 'We'll keep him warm.'
'He is going to die then?' said the boy, tears spilling to his cheeks.
'Yes, Axis, he is going to die. Tend to the fire.'
Bane glanced down. The king's hand was still holding to his own. Bane felt the warmth in the fingers, and saw the battle scars on the king's arm. Blood had ceased to flow from the wound in his side, but Bane knew that internal bleeding continued. He had seen wounds like this before in the arena. It might take hours yet, but death was certain.
The moon rose above the stone circle. Bane looked round at the boy by the fire. 'Go and check the horses the killers rode,' he said. 'Perhaps they had food. You look hungry.'
'I am hungry,' said Axis. 'Shall I bring the horses into the circle? The wolves may still be close by.'