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me.”
    I glanced down the hill as I spat, “The blame is upon the Christians!”
    “Does it matter now, does it truly matter? What is done is done and that is the truth of it. I have failed my gods, my King and. most terribly, my students. It is they who now pay the horrible penalty for my lack of judgment.”
    “We must escape, Master. Follow us that we may flee this madness.”
    Master Tóla stood quietly as from below smoke and heat from the fiery buildings surged up the hill toward us along with the distant heart-wrenching din of victims’ screams and assassins’ cheers. “Flee?” his shoulders sagged. “No, Ossian, my place is down there with my boys.”
    Laoidheach coughed and wheezed in the smoke. “No Master! You mustn’t go down there; those bastards will kill you for certain! Do something! Call upon the Dagda, call upon him to stop this thing; call for vengeance for our fallen, call upon him to strike every killer down.”
    The Master’s voice came to us, a hollow resonance in the darkness. “Do you think the Lordly Ones are unaware of what happens here?” He shook his head in wonder. “You were right, Ossian, the Christians are our enemies and it was negligent of me not to see it, but...” His voice faded as though his own dream or nightmare swallowed him.
    We remained silent, honoring his thoughts, patiently waiting for our beloved Master to continue. He cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders and said, “Now I call upon you, Ossian, and you, Laoidheach, to protect our faith. We are in a war, a killing war between two beliefs. Tonight’s attack was the first battle of that war and we have lost it. Spread the word among all tribes to take up arms against the Christians that we might never lose another. Tell the people what occurred here, tell them the gods demand blood for blood, bone for bone.”
    “Come with us, Master,” I pleaded. My eyes watered in the smoke, or was it only the smoke? “Your word will carry weight where ours…”
    “No. My time upon this earth has passed. The Lordly Ones have decreed that my proper place lies within the flaming furnace below us. My place has always been with my boys and so it shall be now. As for you, Druid,” he handed the death’s head staff to me, “the time for warfare has come. Take this staff that you may rally men to battle. You, Laoidheach, beat the drum of war; sing loud the songs that raise warriors’ spirits.”
    I stood in awe, loving him, worshipping him. My breath caught in my throat and I dared not speak lest I disturb the spiritual peace I knew dwelt within him. Besides, there were no inspired words, nothing more that could add to his grandeur—Tóla the magnificent who would rise above death by becoming a martyr to his faith.
    He hesitated only an instant more and then resumed walking past us down the path through the churning smoke, saying over his shoulder, “My reliance rests with you to speak for your gods and spread their words of vengeance. Remember—blood for blood, bone for bone!”
    * * *
    Laoidheach and I fled Dún Ailinne. From a distance I looked back one final time. Towering flames performed a macabre dance in the dark skies above the school while an enormous pyre now raged atop Knockaulin itself. It was a forgotten scene, one I scarcely remembered, an image revealed in a long-ago dream, a vision given me by my mother.

Chapter 7
    Rath Raithleann

    For two days we traveled in darkness. Long it was we talked as we walked along, grim discussions about our past and what might lie ahead.
    Vengeance was required. Laoidheach chose to follow me to my home at Rath Raithleann. From there we would launch our reprisals against Christians. How or where we would strike our first blow we did not know. Regardless, we would gather willing warriors about us and the time for revenge would come soon.
    We stretched our legs on the third day as we followed a narrow lane, for day it was. A remarkable change occurred with the coming