I hardly understand the hunchback chief's command, his voice is so slurred and rough. Everyone scatters into the shadows. They vanish so quickly and completely that they might have never been here at all. The last I see of them is the sidhe-woman's eyes flashing in the dark. Then they are gone. I hear hounds baying somewhere between here and the next hill.

They all know who I am now. Can I trust them? There's no time to think about it. I must find Morann before the confusion of battle sweeps through here or he may be lost to me forever.

The horses shift nervously at the fast approaching howling of the Niafer dogs. They sound more than half-wild, like wolves. I pause to listen and breathe deeply of the misty, smoke-tinged air. Another chorus of howls sends me swiftly on my way.

I find a deer-trace of a path that goes downhill. I see and hear no one. There is still a feeling of being watched. Every crackling leaf and groaning branch could be the movement of either friend or a foe. Thankful for the soft ground that muffles my running footsteps, I keep moving away from the fire and down the sloping ground into the murky lowlands until I reach a grove of skeletal, dead trees.

Morann's voice! I'd know that voice if he was whispering in the next valley from here. I creep to the edge of the grove and stay low behind a small patch of reeds. Among the small group, I see the Night Raven standing very still with his axe in his hand. Baine is beside him, sword on her hip, head down. Morann has his back to me, bent and mumbling over the body of the Rian. With a jolt of terror, I hear a familiar rhythm to his mutterings. I can't make out the words but I know that intonation. I heard that singsong dirge once before and was never supposed to hear it again. The sacrificer's chant! I can't tell if the woman is still alive. She is propped up against a tall stone. Slowly and without a sound, I slide my sword from its sheath.

Baine lifts her head and looks straight at me. Her face doesn't change. Did I imagine it or did she nod slightly? Morann straightens up and raises his arms to the sky, still chanting. When he stops, I hear him say Hadaig's name. It is time for the axe. Everything comes to a halt. They all look at the Night Raven. He does nothing. The axe rests lightly in his hand. Morann reaches out to take it from him. Hadaig steps back. He smiles.

I can wait no longer. When I lunge forward and slash down with my sword, I utter the scream that I was forced to swallow on the day he pushed me into the lough. It is a death scream but not mine! Now it belongs to Morann.