would have been able to live with himself if he had not tried to help ye. Of that ye can be sure. He died doing the right thing, protecting the Rhedewyr and others. It was not your fault.” The darkness around his eyes intensified. “I admire how ye feel, I really do, lad, and there is no better way for ye to revere his sacrifice. Connal died honorably. But life takes winding paths into shadow at times and nothing can be done about it. It is enough for a father sick with grief to know, and ye owe him—and me—nothing.”
“Life is no excuse, Kegan,” Bran said. “I should have been able to protect myself, should have been able to help and stop what happened from happening.”
“Should is not part of life,” Richard argued over his shoulder. “It is what it is.”
“Indeed,” Kegan agreed.
Snedeker flew from tree limb to tree limb, never alighting for very long, oddly ignoring Bran, his face screwed up in thought. Richard did not know what the fairy was up to, but at least the fey creature could no longer try to steal the Paladr.
“Fairy, what happened last night?” Richard asked.
Long moments passed. Snedeker lightly touched down on a boulder in front of them and stopped to stare at Richard and Bran, looking so confused it was almost comical to the knight.
“Well, fairy?” Richard said.
“You became a tree, jackwagon,” Snedeker answered, looking at both of them. “What do you think happened?”
“What happened afterward?”
“Nothing,” the fairy said. “The tree just stood there beneath the stars. The Lightbrands were gone. The forest was silent. I hid from an owl that landed on you, but that was it.”
“Well how did we become ourselves again?”
“How the brimquick should I know!” Snedeker replied with annoyance as they walked by his boulder. “When the sun rose I went in search of the clurichaun. Got back and you were there on the ground asleep, no longer part of the tree.”
Richard grunted.
Apparently their ignorance would continue.
By the time they reached the others midmorning had come, the day warming but still dark from the previous day’s deaths. Kegan left to prepare his belongings and those of his dead son for the continued journey, leaving Richard and Bran exposed to multiple sets of eyes peering at them with scrutiny. Deirdre changed a bandage on Willowyn in the middle of the clearing, curiosity filling her emerald eyes. Lugh frowned where he sat sharpening his blade, the side of his face bruised, while the four remaining hellyll were silent. All had bruises and cuts, clothing torn or armor dented by the bodach.
“I owe you all an explanation,” Richard said after he had gathered his own things and mounted upon Lyrian. The rest of the company listened. “The bodach is more than likely still following us. Such Unseelie creatures are hard to kill. Once one gains a scent, either it or its prey dies.” He paused. “Last night, Bran left the campsite to embrace the calling that had once been his father’s own. He succeeded in enacting the magic. I went with him to ensure his safety. That is past now, and we must focus on the future.”
“Is he the Heliwr then?” Deirdre asked.
“He is,” the knight said. “But he is young and knows nothing of the craft. He will be as he was before, mostly helpless, at least until I can teach him a few things at our next stop of Caer Glain. We will hope Lord Fafnir at least respects the Heliwr by name, along with my blade.”
Bran looked away, clearly angry.
Richard ignored him. “Are we ready to go?”
“Three of us are dead, Knight of the Yn Saith,” Lugh said. “Two of my guards and Connal O’Farn. Is this quest not for naught? I have to wonder if the lords in question will adhere to the request of the Queen just because two knights tell them they must?”
The Captain of the Long Hand pinned Richard’s own worry.
“Death cannot slow us, let alone stop us,” he said simply. “They will join the Seelie Court. They must. It is up to us all to make that happen. Otherwise Annwn will be lost.”
The others grudgingly nodded as they gained their own mounts.
The morning passed uneventfully. The horizon came into view as they climbed, the elevation thinning the trees of the mountainside. Lyrian took a slow but steady gait even as cliffs encroached on the group. The heights were dizzying, but Richard ignored them, focused on the task at hand. Evidence of