among the younger brothers, a symbol of what hard work could accomplish. Or maybe it was because Eoghan treated them like men. Whatever the reason, they obeyed him unquestioningly, no matter how hard he pushed them.
The same sort of urgency he’d felt with Conor crept into the teaching of his céad, just magnified a hundredfold. He sought every edge he could give them over the enemy, bringing in some of the older brothers to give them a taste of a real fight. He dispensed with the open battlefield tactics as soon as he was sure they were reasonably proficient, teaching them instead how to use their smaller size and speed to their advantage. He taught strikes to disable their opponents: tendons, major arteries. He attempted to teach them ways to minimize exposure to their enemies’ infected blood, but how did one fight with swords without getting bloodied?
That brought him to the discussion he dreaded, even though it was essential. Talk had been rippling through the city ever since Liam had announced that the Fíréin must ready themselves for battle.
Eoghan gathered his céad together in the stone amphitheater. A hundred pairs of earnest eyes stared back at him, but it was Breann’s, too old and wise for his age, that made him look away.
“You’ve no doubt heard the rumors about what we face. Lord Keondric has turned his eye toward Ard Dhaimhin, and he commands more than eight thousand men.”
“One Fíréin warrior is worth five of the kingdom’s,” one of the older boys called, his newly deepening voice laced with bravado.
Eoghan smiled. “That is certainly true. Yet they have a more dangerous weapon at their disposal. Keondric controls his men by sorcery, a dark magic that lives in the blood.”
“So their blood is a threat to us?” Breann asked quietly. “How do we avoid it?”
“The best you can.” Eoghan hesitated. “You must understand: no matter how well we fight, we may still lose men to the sorcery. Some may be strong enough to resist it; some may not.”
Breann looked at him. “And if we aren’t?”
He knew. The boy was prompting Eoghan along, trying to make it easier. How had an eleven-year-old gotten so wise?
“If you are infected, and you will know if you are”—Eoghan hoped so, at least—“the honorable thing to do is turn your blade on yourself before you can betray your brothers or infect those around you.”
Not a whisper moved through the group. Some looked at him aghast. Others had tears in their eyes, though they held them back for fear of looking weak. He didn’t blame them. It was one thing to die in battle. It was another to be defeated by a foe against which you couldn’t defend, to die by your own sword.
“And if they won’t do what needs to be done?” The older boy asked, the bravado gone. “What then?”
“If they act as an enemy, they must be treated as an enemy.”
Eoghan delivered the words quietly, but they still jolted through the gathering like a shout. The boys looked at one another, wondering if they would be called upon to kill someone with whom they had lived and trained for years.
“Archers,” Breann said.
All heads snapped around, and Breann looked startled. “Doesn’t it stand to reason we’d be best using our archers, keep them at a distance? We’ve some good bowmen in this céad.”
Eoghan nodded. The same idea had been discussed by the Conclave. The sentries and trackers would eliminate as many as they could when the druid’s army breached the borders, relying on their fading ability and stealth. Archers would attempt to decimate their numbers before they broke free of the trees into the city itself. Perhaps an obvious plan, but he was impressed by the young boy’s strategic ability. He certainly hadn’t been that aware at Breann’s age.
“You will be assigned to guard the storehouses. If he’s smart, Lord Keondric will target the things we require to live separately and independently.” Eoghan was sharing far more than he should, but if he was asking them to lay down their lives in service to the brotherhood, they deserved to understand why. “Our crops, our granaries, our animals. The flax we grow for our clothing. These things keep us from dependence on the outside world. It is more important than ever that we maintain our livelihood.”
“We will not let the enemy destroy them, sir,” one of the boys called from the back. “Will we?”
A chorus of agreement went up. Even though his heart was heavy, Eoghan