their feet and turned in the direction he pointed, confusion written plain on their faces. “Where?”
“There!” It was no use. They couldn’t see him. Riordan’s gift must have rendered him immune to whatever magic the druid was using for concealment.
He rushed to the archers’ side and took the bow from one, barely biting back a scream at the pressure of the wood against his blistered hand. He swayed as he nocked an arrow and drew back the string. Hold it together a moment more. You must not miss. He took aim, not daring to even breathe, and loosed the arrow. It flew straight and true, seeming to hang in the air when it struck its target. The druid grabbed at the shaft that protruded from his shoulder and stumbled back against the wall.
The archers looked between Riordan and the druid, wide-eyed, apparently now able to see what they earlier had not.
“Brother Riordan?” one asked in concern, taking the bow from his hand.
The wood ripped a layer of burned skin from his palm. Riordan screamed in agony, and the world shattered around him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
At some point during his confinement, Eoghan slept, slumped against the wall between a stool and a wooden rack that held scrolls in languages he couldn’t even identify. He awoke what could have been minutes or hours later to the faint sound of voices in the corridor above his hiding place.
His hiding place. Even the words in his mind made him burn with shame. Men were fighting, dying outside, and he was cowering in the corner of a hidden room like a child.
“. . . him to his study!” A muffled voice rose above the rest. It must have been a shout to penetrate through the countless spans of rock. Eoghan rose. Was it Master Liam? Was he wounded?
Eoghan paced the room while he debated. He had been given strict orders to stay here until the battle was over or Liam retrieved him. But there was no way of knowing in this nearly soundproof fortress of rock if the fighting had stopped, and if Liam was unconscious, he couldn’t very well come and get him.
Decision made, Eoghan donned his weapons and took the staircase upward, where he pushed lightly on the door. It eased open, allowing him a moment to listen for sounds in the hallway. Nothing. He slipped out and pushed the door closed behind him. It sealed back into the wall with a soft whoosh.
Then he saw the smear of blood in the hallway, leading toward the Ceannaire’s study.
His heart in his throat, he broke into a run, taking the steps two at a time before bursting into the room. Brothers’ hands went to weapons before they recognized him, their startled expressions quickly turning to sorrow.
He shoved past them to where Liam lay on the hard floor with his eyes closed and his hands folded on his chest. His clothes were soaked in blood, but it wasn’t pooling beneath him. That was good, wasn’t it? If he were mortally wounded, it would be gushing out. “What are you doing? Find a pallet! Someone help him! Quick!”
“Eoghan, I’m sorry. He’s gone.” A brother—Eoghan didn’t even recognize him through his panic—put a hand on his shoulder.
Eoghan shook it off. “That’s impossible. He can’t be dead. I would know. I’m his successor.” He fell to the ground beside Liam, felt for a pulse, watched for the rise and fall of his chest. Only then did he realize that his master’s skin was cool. Too cool. He jerked his hands away.
“No. No. It can’t be.”
Someone gripped his elbow and raised him to his feet. “I’m sorry, sir. I know you were close. I know he was like a father to you.”
Eoghan focused his suddenly blurry eyes on the speaker. Daigh. “‘Sir’? Why are you calling me ‘sir’? He’s not dead. He can’t be.” I would have known. He said I would know when leadership passed to me.
“He’s dead, sir, by his own hand,” Daigh said quietly. “He gave himself up rather than allow the druid access to Carraigmór and its secrets.”
A wave of sickness crashed over Eoghan, more shock than grief. Liam had known this would happen. He had known what he would have to do all along. That’s why he had been so sure confining Eoghan would protect the Hall.
The password.
Eoghan pushed his way from the study, following the trail of blood down the hallway, and then turned into the corridor with the invisible door. He waited for the