Morann is no more! I stagger away from his body. My sword trails his blood. Disgusted, I wipe it on the grass, wanting to cleanse away every last trace of him. My knees are weak and I am trembling all over. I feel empty, hollow, drained of all the fear and loathing that was the core of my life for so long. A new dawn is breaking. What now?

A battle is raging around me. I have a sword in my hand. I feel strangely apart from the scene, as if I am looking down from a great height. Then something brings me plummeting back to earth. A mounted warrior in Niafer colors charges at me with his long spear aimed to kill. I plant my feet firmly, draw back and swing the sword with both hands. Spear and sword clash. I am knocked backwards but keep my feet under me. The spear falls from the horseman's grip. I swoop to snatch it up and make a run for the trees, where horses cannot easily go.

With Morann gone, I now have no more reason to fight except to defend myself and perhaps those who befriended me. The outlaws of Magh Croimor have scattered like dry leaves in the wind. I can see only Hadaig the Night Raven engaged in combat with a Niafer warrior who wields a wicked looking hammer. I consider throwing the spear at the hammer-man but that long shaft was made for thrusting from horseback, not casting at a distance. Where is Baine? And where are the others?

Another Niafer, this one on foot, has found me among the trees. "Laigin scum!" he snarls and lunges with his sword. He's caught me off guard. The blade whistles past my ear, much too close, and the near-miss ignites the battle fire in me.

"I'm neither Laigin nor scum! Magh Croimor aboo!" I screech and bring my sword down where his neck meets his broad shoulder. With a look of agonized surprise on his face, he falls. I move quickly on through the fighting, towards the mistier part of the bog, hoping that my war cry will bring together the rest of the outlaw band - if any others survive.