Beneath the Forsaken City - C. E. Laureano Page 0,69
be in danger. You cannot tell anyone.”
The men slowly nodded their agreement, though they didn’t seem pleased about it.
“Your life is already in danger.” Uallas pushed himself to a sitting position and held up the broken end of the arrow, fletched with a familiar feather pattern. Her heart sank in recognition even before he said the words.
“Our ambushers were from Forrais.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Eoghan trudged toward the meeting place, preparing himself. He hadn’t spoken with Liam since the revelation in the Hall of Prophecies, and the Ceannaire had been content to leave him to wrestle with his thoughts in peace.
As had Comdiu. Perhaps the Almighty didn’t appreciate that his lowly servant was angry with Him.
Eoghan wasn’t angry, though. Not really. It wouldn’t do any good if he were. He’d chosen a life at Ard Dhaimhin when he committed himself to the leadership of the brotherhood. He’d taken one possible avenue Comdiu had offered him—to train Conor as his apprentice—knowing full well it meant that his friend would leave the High City in his place.
Apparently Liam had decided Eoghan had sulked long enough, because he’d summoned him to the practice yard where the elder brothers and the Conclave sometimes trained in private. But when Eoghan reached the clearing, he found only Liam, working through his sword drills alone, one impressive form after another.
Conor had been extraordinarily talented, truly. How else could he have gone from a weakling to one of the brotherhood’s most skilled warriors in only three years? Even so, watching Liam now, Eoghan knew Conor shouldn’t have been able to beat the Ceannaire. Comdiu had surely orchestrated Conor’s release from the brotherhood, just as it seemed Comdiu had determined Eoghan would never leave.
Liam turned and broke off his form.
“You summoned me?” Eoghan asked.
Sweating but still breathing easily, Liam nodded and crossed to where several weapons lay on a flat rock. He selected a blunt sword and tossed it to his apprentice.
Eoghan automatically caught it by the grip, the movement pulling at his healing flesh.
“Still in pain?”
“Not much. Well enough to train. Well enough to fight.”
“Good. I’m giving you a céad.”
Eoghan paused in the middle of an experimental stroke with the sword. “Sir?”
“Only to train. Not to lead. When the battle comes to Carraigmór, I’ll expect you to be safely behind walls.”
Eoghan lowered the weapon. “I’m no coward, Master Liam. I can fight.”
Liam put up his own sword and moved closer. “I know. It is not for your sake that I ask this; it’s for the safety of the brotherhood. You remember what I said when I showed you the chamber?”
“Keondric must not be allowed to access it. You think he will try to force you to let him in.”
“He will try. He will fail. And then he will not hesitate to torture the name of my successor from the other men. Your identity will not remain secret for long.”
“What happens if I’m killed? I haven’t chosen a successor yet.”
“I don’t know,” Liam said. “It’s never been a question. Perhaps anyone could gain access. Or no one. Either scenario would be just as disastrous as allowing Keondric in. When the fighting starts, I will lock you inside the chamber. It is the only way to be sure you and the Hall remain safe.”
Eoghan exhaled a long, heavy breath. “It feels wrong. You taught me never to run from a fight.”
“I also taught you to be strategic and think of the larger purpose behind your actions. By protecting yourself, protecting our secrets, you ensure the safety of Seare. Will you do what I ask?”
Obey.
Eoghan closed his eyes for a brief moment. Of course now Comdiu chose to speak to him. He opened his eyes and raised his sword. “I will obey.”’
“Good. Now let’s see how much your loafing has slowed you down.”
Eoghan fought a laugh. “You should not test me.”
“And you should have less confidence in your youth.”
Eoghan’s smile broke out at the first ring of metal and then faded again when he thought of the one question he should have asked: “How long do we have until they arrive?”
Eoghan moved toward the practice yard where he was to meet his new céad, adjusting the buckle of the sword baldric he had checked out from the armory. Before, the céads had been arranged by age and ability for younger boys, by skill set and function for full brothers. Since Riordan had returned with news of Keondric’s mounting army, however, the Conclave had begun