He decided to deal with the bishop first, since he was within reach, but as they entered the tent they found nearly a dozen men clustered around the unmoving form of Derry, stretched on a pallet to the left of the chamber. A bloodstained Warin was bending over him, and Nigel’s son Conall was kneeling beside him with a reddened basin of water, a look of awe on his face as he watched the former rebel leader wipe his bloody hands on a piece of towelling. Derry’s eyes were closed and his head was rolling back and forth as though still in some pain, but there were fragments of a half-shattered arrow shaft on the floor beside him.

As Kelson and the bishop entered, Morgan and Duncan right behind them, Warin looked up and nodded greeting. He was wan and obviously exhausted, but there was also satisfaction in his eyes.

“He should be all right, Sire. I withdrew the arrow and healed the wound. He is still feverish from whatever happened earlier, however. General Morgan, he keeps murmuring your name. Perhaps you should take a look at him.”

Morgan moved quickly to Derry’s side and dropped to one knee, laying a gentle hand on the young man’s brow. Derry’s eyes flickered open at the touch and looked up at the ceiling for just an instant; then he turned his head to gaze at Morgan, a frightened shadow flitting behind his eyes.

“Be easy, Sean,” Morgan murmured. “You’re safe now.”

“My lord…You’re all right.” Then, “I didn’t betr—”

He broke off and stiffened for just an instant, as though remembering something terrifying, then shuddered in revulsion and jerked his head away. Frowning, Morgan moved his fingertips to Derry’s temples, intending to exert his powers and calm him, but met resistance there that he had never encountered in Derry before.

“Just relax,” he whispered. “The worst is over. Rest now. You’ll feel better after you’ve slept—”

“No! I mustn’t sleep!”

The very thought seemed to terrify Derry, who began tossing his head from side to side so wildly that it was all Morgan could do to maintain contact. The younger man’s eyes blazed with an animal fear, all reason gone, and Morgan realized that he was going to have to do something quickly or Derry would burn himself out in his exhausted state.

“Sean, relax. Don’t fight me! It’s all right, you’re safe. Duncan, give me a hand here!”

“No! You mustn’t make me sleep! You mustn’t!” Derry caught a handful of Morgan’s cloak and struggled to rise as Duncan scrambled in to grab his arms and Warin backed away.

“No! Let me go! You don’t understand. Oh, God help me, what am I going to do?”

“It’s all right—”

“No, it isn’t all right! You don’t understand! Wencit—”

Derry’s expression became even more stricken, and he lifted his head to stare wildly into Morgan’s eyes, his right hand still twined desperately in the edge of Morgan’s cloak, despite Duncan’s efforts to free it.