password to surface.
Nothing came to mind.
What were the words Liam had spoken this morning? No matter how hard he searched his memory, they still remained nothing more than the drift of smoke, not substantial enough to grasp. What did that mean? Perhaps Liam wasn’t really dead. Perhaps he could be healed.
Or maybe Eoghan wasn’t meant to be the Ceannaire after all.
But if he wasn’t, who was?
He stumbled back to the Ceannaire’s study, unable to form a coherent thought amidst his crush of emotion. Only now did he recognize the men there as members of the Conclave: Gradaigh, Dal, Manog, Daigh.
“Sir, I know this is a shock, but we need orders.” Daigh positioned himself in Eoghan’s vision, drawing his attention away from Liam’s lifeless body in the corner.
“I am not the Ceannaire. I cannot be.”
“You are his chosen successor, sworn on the sword before the Conclave. We witnessed it. You are the Ceannaire, and we need our orders.”
Eoghan pressed his fingers to his eyes and forced himself to think. There would be time enough to sort this out. Right now, the Conclave believed he was the Ceannaire, and they would accept orders from only him.
“Tell me of the battle.”
“Over,” Gradaigh said. “Brother Riordan alone could see through the druid’s magic, and he wounded him. Niall could no longer maintain his shield, so the army retreated.”
“And you let them go? With the druid wounded?”
“We’d already sustained enough casualties,” Dal said. “The city is glutted with bodies. We’ll have enough trouble safely disposing of them without adding to the count.”
“How many?” Eoghan asked. “How many casualties?”
“Most recent estimate, two hundred fell in battle. Thousands exposed, perhaps four hundred infected. Most of them did as commanded and ended their own lives if they could not resist. The others . . .” He swallowed and wouldn’t finish the sentence.
The others had been killed by loyal Fíréin, men with whom they had sworn brotherhood. The toll on Ard Dhaimhin was far higher than the six hundred men they had lost today.
Eoghan choked down his sorrow. “How many of theirs? How many to dispose of?”
“Thousands, sir.”
Eoghan jerked his head up and made his way over to the window. Piles of bodies clogged the walkways, the forest’s edge, the village. Mostly the enemy’s, but some of theirs, too.
“Make bonfires,” he said. “Organize parties to retrieve the bodies and burn them as quickly as possible. Assign overseers to each group. If anyone is exposed to the blood, make them wash immediately and quarantine them under guard while we have time to see if they’re taken by the sorcery.”
A sigh of relief filled the room as Eoghan gave the men direction. These were strong, smart men, but they were conditioned to obey. Without a leader . . .
“And our fallen?” Dal asked.
“We have no way of knowing for certain who is infected and who is not. Burn them immediately like the others. I’m sorry.”
Eoghan continued to survey the wreckage of the city, mentally listing their less immediate, but equally crucial, tasks. Smoke still billowed from fires in the villages and croplands beyond, and wisps of steam drifted from the surface of the lake. “What happened at Loch Ceo?”
Gradaigh answered. “The druid boiled it as a demonstration of his power.”
Dread crept into Eoghan’s body, spreading cold through his limbs. Matters were even more critical than he’d thought. He turned away from the window, gathering strength. Password or no password, he was the closest thing to a leader the brotherhood had, and he knew what had to be done.
“Organize bucket brigades to put out the fires that are still burning. Assign men to take inventory of our losses. Animals that were killed must be butchered and taken to the smokehouse immediately. Salvage what fish you can from the lake. Without our crops and our animals, it will be a long winter indeed. I will be down as soon as I can.”
The men dispersed, all but Daigh, who lingered behind. “You have my sympathy for your loss, sir.”
“Thank you.” Then Eoghan realized who had been missing from the room. “Brother Riordan? Did he . . . ?”
“Badly burned, but he lives. I’ll send him to you. He’s in the infirmary.”
“No, I’ll find him later.” He gave Daigh a bare smile and waited until the door closed before he turned back to Liam’s lifeless, peaceful body. He sank to the floor beside him.
“You sacrificed all for the brotherhood. We will honor you. You will not be forgotten.”
Eoghan reached out to touch Liam, but he