Fergal MacDavett was the tallest man Finn had ever met. It was an impressive feat considering that the shortest members of the MacLaughlin home, Donal and his late mother, still reached six feet in height.

  At this moment, however, Fergal’s feet kicked helplessly in midair. He dug at the hand wrapped around his neck but could not pry away any of the undead fingers. He squeezed The ávertach’s wrist before resorting to pummeling its arm. Nothing he did forced the creature’s grip to relent.

  The group’s only comfort in these brief moments was the sound of Fergal’s breath, strained as it was.

  Arrow after arrow fell helplessly to the ground after striking The ávertach’s barrier of purple light. Maeve’s attacks weren’t without progress, though. At the start of his fight his barrier encircled him in a perfect dome. Several minutes of warding off sílrad attacks sapped its power until the light receded into a translucent shield the size of a heater that hovered in front of his left hand.

  Niall noticed the monster’s waning protection as well. He gripped Caílte’s sword, the Hard Destroyer, in both hands and drew it over his left shoulder and charged at The ávertach. The creature’s eyes darted to Niall and at the moment Niall swung his weapon the monster tossed Fergal into the air and vanished into a cloud.

  Except Finn knew better. The cloud was The ávertach. Niall retreated after his second swing, and the cloud condensed, assuming its humanoid form in time to catch Fergal by the throat. It dropped its shield and pushed its left hand toward Niall. “Torann!”

  Niall raised his silver hand in front of his face but neither it nor the swords he wielded could deflect the thunderous force. His head hit the floor as he flew backwards. The concussive wave carried his feet over his head until the rest of his body slammed into a prone position.

  The ávertach pushed forward his hand and created another barrier. It was wider, but it did not encircle him as it did before.

  “Niall?” Maeve yelled, her eyes fixed upon the creature.

  Niall groaned as pushed himself onto his hands and knees. “Still here, lass,” Niall said.

  Can’t waste a second, Finn thought. “Sai?et gealáin!” he yelled, desperately trying to keep The ávertach’s focus off of Fergal. The bolt missed his foe’s new shield and caught it in the left shoulder. The creature’s body tensed. Its back stiffened. Its left arm dropped an inch. Fergal’s legs kicked faster and Finn didn’t hear him breathe.

  Niall’s grunting drew near. “What in the hell did you do?”

  “I thought I was saving him,” Finn said.

  “Think again,” Maeve said.

  The ávertach’s body relaxed after a few seconds and it sneered at Finn. With a flick of its hand it unleashed another blast of thunder at Maeve. The ranger leapt out of the way but landed on her shoulder instead of her feet. The monster swiped its right hand back toward Finn and Niall. “Lasair trúaillinid!”

  “Bocóit!” yelled Finn as waves of purple flame broke upon his shield of pale yellow light. “Ideas?”

  “None,” Niall said. “I’m feeling damned useless; he clouds up whenever I come near.”

  “That’s it!” Finn said. “Do it again.”

  “To what end?” Niall asked. “Making me mad for sport?”

  “Maeve!” Finn yelled. “How many arrows can you let fly in minute?”

  “Speed isn’t the primary goal, is it?”

  Finn’s feet slid backward from the force of The ávertach’s fire. Niall stepped behind to provide him a buttress. “Right now, it is.”

  “I think I get your meaning. When?”

  “Ten seconds ago would have been ideal.”

  “Quit your sobbing.”

  “Have a go at that thing as soon as she draws its attention,” Finn said to Niall. “Let me worry about Fergal.”

  “Just don’t you finish MacDavett off for him, hai?”

  Finn rolled his eyes. “Keep pushing on me,” he said. “I want to close the distance on him before we charge.”

  The ávertach yelled as he pulled an arrow from his shoulder. His darkened fire had relented.

  Finn dropped his shield. “Now!” he said. “Straight at him.”

  Niall pulled both swords over his shoulder. Finn looped wide to the left as he charged the monster, his eyes still locked on Niall.

  The ávertach chuckled at Niall with a gleam in his eye. “Again?” he asked.

  Niall didn’t say a word. He twisted his torso to the right to gain leverage. The tip of the Hard Destroyer started its journey forward.

  Finn slid to a stop. “Terribly sorry, Fergal!” he said as he pulled in his left arm. “Torann!”

  Finn shortened the follow-through with his right hand, hoping it would pull his thunderous punch. It caught Fergal in the chest at the very moment The ávertach’s grip on the innkeeper’s throat had slackened. Fergal landed halfway between the creature and the back wall. The spell caught enough of the monster’s hand to spin it halfway and avert its transformation.

  The innkeeper required two attempts to stand. He grabbed his neck as he crouched into a ready stance. He withdrew his hand from his neck and examined it. “Dammit,” he said. “The beast caught me with one of its claws.”

  Maeve and Niall traded a sobering look. “How about the rest of you?” she asked.

  “Achy and in need of a weapon.”

  Fergal’s poleaxe lay on the floor where The ávertach first shook it loose, and Finn was the closest person to it. He switched his sword to the left hand.

  The monster resumed its humanoid form and glared at its attackers as it scanned the room. “Angering me was not your best notion,” it said. “To this point, I’d have considered giving you all a quick death despite my—” His eyes settled on Maeve. “—curiosities. You lot have forfeited that option.”

  “Bocóit!” Finn yelled, this time creating the barrier over his right arm. He sprinted toward The ávertach and raised his sword, an expression of fury twisting his face. The monster’s right hand, now empty, readied to strike.

  Finn shifted his body as the claw came down and slid to the right of The ávertach. He drug the pommel of his sword on the ground to slow his momentum and braced his right arm. The monster’s heavy strike against his magical barrier shifted him even further away.

  He tucked his legs back so he could end his slide on his knees. Finn dropped Fragarach, grabbed the handle of Fergal’s poleaxe and hopped up to his feet. He slid the weapon back to its master as if it were a stone skipping across a pond.

  Finn reached for his sword, but The ávertach struck Finn’s shield with the back of its hand. Finn stumbled, and his foe did not hesitate. “Gortaigid a dénum,” it said as it smacked Finn’s exposed torso.

  Finn collapsed to the floor as a spike of pain pierced the side of his stomach. He clutched the wound as all feeling left his abdomen. I hate that spell! Finn thought. I wasn’t quite right for days when Breaslin hit me with it.

  He felt The ávertach loom. Fragarach now lay in front of him. Finn gripped his sword and raised his eyes to meet the monster. He could not escape but he did not worry. His expression didn’t go unnoticed.

  “Are you that much of a fool?” The ávertach asked.

  “Fool?” Finn asked. “I’m not the one who turned my back on a giant with an axe.”

  The monster’s eyes twitched with confusion a second before Fergal planted his axe in its side. Fergal pulled back his weapon, twisted it in his hands and slammed the hammer end into the side The ávertach’s head with an upward swing. The monster’s cries of pain quieted to stifled grunts as it pushed itself from the floor.

  Fergal didn’t stop to admire his work. He bent over to help Finn to his feet and the pair staggered back to Niall. “We’re free!” Fergal yelled to Maeve. Two arrows whistled behind Finn, both creating a squelching sound as hit true.

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  Mist yourself out of that, Finn thought. He looked at Maeve. “How many more silver arrowheads have you?”

  Maeve jerked her left shoulder as she nocked another arrow. “Most of ‘em. Turning the cheap ones into magic bolts does wonders for my supplies.”

  “Time to stop being stingy, I’m thinking,” he said.

  “Right,” she said, dropping the arrow from her right hand. She fumbled with her belt and twisted it around her body. She grabbed a handful of arrows from her other quiver, the dawn light reflecting from their tips.

  “Fergal!” Niall yelled. “Let’s get up there and give that beast our regards.” The men ran at the monster, their weapons leading the way. The ávertach removed his hand from the axe wound and unleashed the next spell with the back of his hand. “Torann nert!”

  The wave lifted both men off their feet and knocked them into the wall on the left.

  We need more than our own skills, Finn thought. He ran to Maeve. “Get closer.”

  She scoffed. “Dya’see what he did to the lads?” she asked. “You first.”

  “I need you to pin him to the floor for a moment. Don’t you worry, I’ll be the bait and distract him.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” she said. “I don’t need to get closer to pin him down.”

  Finn grabbed his stomach and made for the left side of the room once more, his run resembling more of a swift hobble. He unleashed a barrage of spells the moment he cleared the midpoint of the room. “Lía?rit teine! Teine! Pléasca? guirid!” Each of his attacks broke against a small barrier in front of The ávertach’s face.

  “Indsaig cenglaid,” Maeve said from across the room. The three arrows in her hand glowed with pear-colored light. Her first arrow pierced the monster’s cloak and struck its left thigh. Two rays of light dropped to the ground. A spike formed where each landed and the rays of light widened and curled until they took the shape of yellow vines. By the time the light had faded, another arrow struck its right thigh.

  “What’s the last one for?” Finn yelled.

  “Keep up the pressure and you’ll see,” she said.

  I need something flashy, Finn thought. He spread his arms to make his fishhook cast as wide as possible. “Pléasca? díade!”

  Finn’s right hand glowed with pale yellow light. When the light brightened to the point he could not see his individual fingers, he released a beam of light toward The ávertach.

  The beam forced the monster’s purple barrier into its face. Its legs anchored to the floor, The ávertach could only use its arms to repel the blast. As the attack waned, the monster forced its barrier ahead until it had extended its right arm.

  “Thanks, Finn!” Maeve said. Her third arrow pierced The ávertach’s right forearm. The third pair of vines pulled the arm low, forcing the monster to hunch. The clatter of Maeve’s bow against the floor pulled Finn’s attention from the ensnared creature.

  “Fuip fíniúna!” Maeve yelled. An amber whip of amber light drooped from her hand to the ground. She ran toward The ávertach and cracked the whip around the monster’s left hand. “Delg,” she said as she flourished her hand in a twist. The luminescent whip's thorns grew, and the monster grunted in pain.

  The ávertach jerked its left hand, bringing Maeve forward with a lurch.

  “Fergal!” Maeve said. “I need an anchor.”

  Fergal sprinted behind Finn, grabbed a portion of the whip in front of Maeve and dropped his body. The monster could no longer pull them closer.

  “We have him pinned,” Maeve said. “What’s this plan of yours?”

  “First thing’s first,” Finn said. “Niall, could you give yer man here a wound that takes some doin’ to heal?”

  “Of course,” Niall said. He walked up to The ávertach, sized him up for a moment and then drove both of his swords through the center of his chest.

  The monster wheezed. “Young lad, don’t you know I can’t be killed?”

  “Oh, we can kill you,” Niall said. He ran both swords through The ávertach’s chest and held them there a moment before withdrawing the weapons. He pushed the monster back to the ground with a foot to its shoulder. “The trick was always keeping you dead.”

  The ávertach’s body went limp. Maeve yelled in pain as Fergal fell backwards on top of her.

  “Down to you,” Niall said to Finn.

  “Beir teine ar an éilned so!” Finn said. The floor in front of The ávertach darkened until tongues of pale yellow flame rose from the wooden planks.

  “That’s a rather morbid fire to warm our bones by,” Fergal said. “Dya’think it worked? Did we break the curse?”

  Maeve looked at Finn. “Well?”

  “Hard to tell if it breaks when he’s dead, or dead for good,” Finn said.

  “Naw,” Niall said, “we broke it. Look.”

  Niall pointed to four Aos Sí who lay unconscious on the floor. Each man’s body shrunk to a natural height and a healthy color returned to their cheeks.

  “That’s as good a sign as any,” Maeve said. “Must we bury this one here like we did the one back in Creeslough?”

  “If our goal was to break the curse, we’ve met it,” Finn said. He looked up at the ceiling. “We can bury him another way for now. Get our new acquaintances near the stairs.”

  Maeve followed his eyes upward. “Fine,” she said. “I’d rather not get caught digging in the dirt by any reinforcements that get past Rory. You two, rouse the elders while Finn does his fool thing.”

  Finn helped his comrades drag the downed warriors to the spiral staircase at the front of the keep. He took two steps toward the center and locked his eyes on a support beam above the monster’s head and cast the spell.

  “Pléasca? díade!”

  His hand glowed once more until a brilliant ray burst forth, catching the support beam square. The wood at the point of impact splintered, and either side of the beam sagged.

  “That’s awfully useful,” Niall said. “You should use it more.”

  “I’m not sure that I can,” Finn said. “Just those two times have left me more winded than the entire fight so far.” He shrugged. “Maybe it’s just the wound taking a toll.”

  Finn flung two more fireballs at the beams on either side. By the time the second spell hit, the ceiling had suffered too much damage to remain whole. A roar of straining and breaking wood filled the room as the ceiling collapsed upon The ávertach and poured through the burning floor.

  The noise was enough to stir Caílte mac Rónáin from his stupor. The warrior sat up with a start, and his eyes widened as he surveyed the room. “What in the hell happened here, and why is the aul’ one holding my sword?”

  “Sure look, Caílte,” said Oscar, sliding into a seated position next to his distant granddaughter, “even you can tell by your surroundings that this isn’t the time or place for that discussion.” His eyes traced Maeve’s face. “Should I know you?”

  Maeve smiled. “No, but you will, Grandfather.”

  “Am I, now?” Oscar asked.

  “Due respect to all here,” Niall said, “but I’m sure we don’t have time for this, either. Can someone help me with the big fella here?”

  “I can,” a third warrior said, rubbing his bald head. He slid over to the largest of the four and slapped the man’ cheek. “Goll! Get you on your feet.”

  Goll mac Morna snorted and glared at his rouser. “Brother? Where are we?”

  “In a burning castle,” his brother, Conán, said. “What do you say we change that?”

  Finn couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at the familiarity of the interaction between the two brothers. The laugh, however, poked at the places in his body still suffering the effects of the monster’s ghastly strike.

  “Are we all ready?” Maeve asked. “And I'll ask you to note the rhetorical nature of my question.”

  “Let’s move,” Oscar said. The pair disappeared down the stairs before the rest could answer.

  “I’ve got you, MacLaughlin,” Fergal said, dipping his head under Finn’s empty arm. He wrapped his right hand around Finn’s waist. Finn’s toes never brushed the stairs on the way down.

  The pile of burning wood and stone did not break through the floor of the main level. Finn found no trace of the monster as he scanned the edges of the wreckage.

  The sílrad and the Aos Sí squeezed into the area between the fire and the front gate. The main doors of the Red Tower were twice-barred from the inside with long, square beams.

  “My sword, sir,” Caílte said to Niall. Niall handed the Hard Destroyer to the sprinter and Caílte split both beams with one overhead chop.

  “Where we heading?” Niall asked.

  Maeve caught herself before she spoke and deferred to Goll and Oscar.

  “Don’t look at us, lass,” Oscar said. “Our minds are still cloudy and it was your plans that freed us.”

  “This road leads to Uargal, doesn’t it?” Maeve asked. “We should go there. Though I wouldn’t expect to reach it before we run into either Rory’s people or waves of dearg due. Keep a keen eye on the road ahead.”

  “Rory?” Goll asked.

  “They’re one of yours,” Maeve said. “One of the Fianna.”

  “I’m afraid to ask how long we’ve been in that demon’s thrall,” Caílte said.

  Finn detached himself from Fergal with a pat of thanks. “I’m well enough,” he said. "We'll need to look at that neck of yours."

  Fergal rested his hand on the two scratches left by The ávertach's claws and checked for blood. "Good news! It's red," Fergal said. "All of that worry for nothing."

  Finn raised a hand. "That's not—"

  The innkeeper left Finn's side without another word and joined Maeve, Oscar and Goll in the lead group. Finn did his best not to slow Niall, Caílte and Conán.

  A growing unease twisted Finn’s insides as they neared the edge of the clearing in front of the tower. “Am I the only one who feels that?” he asked.

  “That’s just the dread of a fight you can’t see coming, lad.” Oscar said.

  “I know what that is, sir,” Finn said. “This feels worse. Maeve, do you truly not see anything ahead?”

  “Not yet, Finn,” Maeve said. “This is supposed to be the easy stretch: a ruined tower behind us and a narrow stretch of land on either side. Save that worry for when we actually enter the forest.”

  Niall patted Finn’s shoulder. “That’s an awful wound you suffered. It’s enough to throw anyone off.”

  Finn nodded, hoping to end the discussion. He debated with himself on what was worse, the certainty he felt that something was amiss or that Maeve saw nothing despite his certainty. Northwesterly winds from behind the tower carried the faint sound of a man’s voice.

  “Are we certain that we felled everyone in that place?” Finn asked. He ignored the annoyed grumbling from the members of the lead group and looked back at the tower. It wasn’t a rogue banánách stumbling out of the burning castle.

  It was worse.

  Eight large boats sat on a small jut of land below the Red Tower. Several groups of men climbed the incline toward the tower with spears and shields in their hands and bows on their backs. Behind them followed a handful of people larger than their comrades yet shorter than a grúagach. Not one head looked to the tower. Every pair of eyes fixed upon the group of sílrad and Aos Sí.

  The ávertach didn't summon them, Finn thought.

  A twig snapped in the woods to Finn’s right, somewhere between the two groups of Finn’s party.

  “Weapons, everyone!” Finn yelled without thinking. “They have scouts on our right!”

  Maeve stopped the first group. “Did you say—”

  An arrow whistled from the forest, grazing Conán's shoulder.

  “Do you not listen?” shouted an unseen man. “He wants the ranger and bard dealt with first!”

  Branches closer to the clearing rustled. Fergal threw down his poleaxe and ran for Maeve. He knocked her to the ground with his shoulder in time to catch the next arrow in his upper chest.