There was no running here. A dense thicket crowned the rock face, and the moonlight did little to illuminate the narrow pathway down which Fiacha was leading us. We could not walk hand in hand. Cathal made me go next after the crow, with him behind me. Out in the forest there now rang out all manner of noises: furious screams, hollow cries, a spine-chilling wail like that of the banshee. And voices, shouting. The trees were so close together, the net of branches and boughs and twigs, leaves and needles and vines so intricate that the least error could cause a person to be completely lost. I hoped very much that Fiacha’s way would be the best, the safest, the one on which Mac Dara was least likely to find us. It surely wasn’t the quickest.

“Keep moving,” said Cathal, and I heard an edge in his voice. “Maybe it opens up ahead. This can’t go on forever.”

He was right. A hundred paces further on the terrain changed again, dense growth giving way abruptly to more open ground. I felt grass underfoot and smelled something sweet, like curative herbs. This was oddly like a shorter version of the way Cathal and I had come in. We clasped hands again and, as Fiacha winged ahead, we ran. My mind was racing through the trials we had endured coming the other way, wondering how many of them we would have to face again, when a line of lights appeared in the gloom ahead. Fiacha flew up and out of sight. Cathal halted, looking back, and when I turned my head I saw a similar array of lights—torches, approaching—not far behind us. Cathal let go of my hand and drew his dagger.

“Did you say you had a concealment charm?” he whispered.

“Mm.”

“Be ready to use it, then. Those are horses, and the riders will be armed. My father won’t want me seriously hurt. But he’ll have no hesitation in using you to force my hand. I think the ring will protect you, but I’d prefer not to put that to the test. It certainly won’t stop him from separating us and despatching you back home. Employ your spell before it comes to that, or this will be over all too quickly. I cannot fight so many.”

“All right.” I tried to breathe slowly; I tried to remember exactly what Ciarán had told me.

The riders drew closer. All wore hooded robes of gray; all bore spears or swords or other weapons with spiked or pronged or serrated blades. There were scythelike cutters and stranger items that spoke of spell craft. The two lines approached in silence from before and behind. When they were a certain distance away they deployed in a circle with Cathal and me in the middle. The torches bathed us in a flickering red light.