Night Terrors Episode Nine;Doctor Who;Third Doctor;Liz Shaw

Night Terrors

Episode Nine

Jeri Massi

"Here you are, Doctor, one slingshot, as ordered." And Captain Munro grinned as he passed the sturdy shooting device to the timelord. The time was nearly midnight, but the Doctor was still at work, studying a terrain map of the valley, which he had spread out on an unfolded table in the command tent. Nearby, atop several crates, three bundles of electronic equipment sat wrapped in plastic sheeting.

"Oh, that's quite a fearsome weapon," the Doctor said, admiring it. "I thought it delivered a good shot from the way those walnuts were raining down on us."

"The little chap was none too pleased when the men took it from him."

"Well, now that he's been disarmed, perhaps he'll prove more mannerly. Besides, I don't object to giving it back to him when everything is finished." His eyes looked guilty. "Besides, I'm not so sure I approve of putting that much power in the hands of a young person. He might do something he would regret later." He looked away and pocketed the slingshot. His face and eyes were suddenly very quiet.

Munro nodded down at the map. "Found any good spots?"

The Doctor came back to the business at hand. "I'm trying to determine the most likely places to search, Captain. What we need to do is set up three separate stations and then home in on the signals that are being generated. We can use triangulation to pinpoint the source."

"Right. We've got some technicians who should be able to handle it. Should we set out at first light?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Whoever bombarded the village today put everybody to sleep, but it would be almost as easy for those persons to kill everybody with a sonic bombardment. We must depart the village stealthily, at night, without lights."

"We've got those special infrared search lights. Those might help."

"Yes. Set up three two-man teams. As soon as you can. I've got the points of triangulation marked. Once we pinpoint the source, I can broadcast a pretty good jamming wave---at least jam the frequencies that are dangerous to humans." He hesitated. "Of course, they may have just gone to earth. In which case, we'll have to go to them to bring them out of here."

"It could be just what they want," Munro said.

"We'll have to be prepared for either attack or defense." And the Doctor went back to his map.

* * * *

Before Johnny O'Haire could speak or the Brigadier could draw his sidearm, Liz stepped forward. She put an arm across the woodsman as though to protect him, or to stop him moving forward, but her eyes were fixed on the Brigadier. "I'm not going back with you, Brigadier. I have freely given my word to Johnny O'Haire to work in partnership with him. This is the best way to stop Gall Farraneagh. It may be the only way to stop him."

Lethbridge Stewart set his jaw, but he did not immediately answer. He knew that Liz Shaw was accustomed to ruling her own roost in the labs at Cambridge, and she was not military personnel. Pushing his own authority with too much aggressiveness might just cause her to push back too hard. If she were to willfully drag her feet or withdraw her effort, the investigation would be at a crisis. So far in her brief career with UNIT, she had thoroughly seen to her duties, even while protesting his heavy handed tactics with her. This was the first time she had openly declared an intention opposite to what he had ordered.

"What prompted you to make such a promise?" he asked her. "Did you forget my authority on this mission?"

"Certainly not. But Johnny O'Haire's knowledge of Gall Farraneagh is far more pervasive than we could find anywhere else----"

"We came to investigate the causes of these suicides and accidents."

She set her own jaw and met his eye. "Yes, and Johnny O'Haire enabled me to recover from the same sickness that claimed the lives of the others. I made a report to the Doctor. It is sleep disruption. I'm not sure what causes it, but it must be some type of broadcast transmission. This narrow ravine is partly sheltered from it. We're in a sort of radio shadow." She took a breath and waited for him to make some protest, but as he appeared to be making up his mind, she again nodded to the table to indicate that they should all sit down. With an effort to make himself relax, the Brigadier shot a look at Benton to tell him to relax, too, and they sat down. Johnny O'Haire hesitated for a moment, and he also sat.

Liz filled the kettle from the enormous jug of water that sat near the wood burning stove. She opened the damper and fed in two small logs that had been sawed into short pieces. The Brigadier had never seen Liz Shaw offer to make tea for people, certainly not durign a planning session or meeting. He cocked an eyebrow and wondered if she were under any type of mind control.

But when she spoke, her voice was sharp, clear, and analytical. "The point is, Brigadier," she said as she worked. "Now we're here---UNIT, I mean---we can't very well ignore Gall Farraneagh---"

"I was not suggesting that."

"And I think that he---or it---is now suffering from the same sleep disruption that has targeted other people here. Some people are more sensitive, some less. But from what I have learned, he is quite sensitive. Overly sensitive. It's driven him to madness."

"He's killed two blokes," Benton said.

Johnny O'Haire did not lift his eyes from the table top. "Broadshire and Knightford it will be," he said.

The Brigadier was astonished. "How the devil did you know that?"

"They have long held an unhealthy interest in him. They have tried to track his movements before."

Lethbridge Stewart made a noise of disgust in his throat. "Unhealthy is certainly right."

Liz caught the tone in his voice. Her own voice was sharp. "How unhealthy?"

"They were trying to offer a woman to the monster when it killed them."

That brought the woodsman instantly to life. "Who?" Johnny O'Haire barked. His eyes were suddenly dreadful, and even the Brigadier felt a qualm go through him.

"An outsider. A young lady who'd had car trouble."

"She is alive?"

"Yes. They did her more damage than the creature did."

Johnny O'Haire kept his eyes fixed on him, and so the Brigadier told them the story. In spite of his preference to keep details away from uncleared personnel, he found himself telling the full tale.

Instead of making any comment on these events, the woodsman abruptly changed the subject. "But you were already coming here when you were called to that matter. What brings you, and what has happened to young David?"

"Sgt. Benton here found Mr. Cording strung up in the forest. Somebody had attempted to strangle him and then tried to cover it up to look like another suicide. My men cut him down, but while they were trying to revive him, a fellow in a silver helmet came and attacked them with a strange weapon. The men fired into the attacker and killed him. They got Mr. Cording into the village infirmary. He was still alive, last I saw him. But he asked that you lead us to the camp of the silver helmets. He wants you to know that they are not the Queen's men."

Johnny O'Haire looked thoughtful. Liz brought over a stack of cups and set them out. She returned with the tea pot and poured for them. I'm afraid there's no cream," she said.

"I will find the sugar bowl." Johnny O'Haire stood up. "You sit down, Elizabeth." His voice was gentle. She took her place on the bench alongside his place. He rummaged in the shelves and returned with a bowl of sugar and several spoons.

He sat next to her and handed the sugar to her. The Brigadier noticed that Benton had his brows knit and his eyes fixed on Miss Shaw. Neither of the visitors said anything. Liz added sugar and stirred her tea, and then the woodsman passed them the sugar bowl. She took a sip of the hot beverage and set her elbows on the table. Johnny O'Haire rested his heavy arm on the table top and took his mug in the other hand. He glanced at her, making sure that she was comfortable. There was something about them that spoke of a matched set.

"What then?" Johnny O'Haire asked suddenly. "Do you have the strange weapon?"

"That's the deuce of it," the Brigadier said. "These silver headed soldiers put the whole village to sleep. They came in, got the body of their dead fellow, and took away his gun and his helmet."

"They could do that?" Liz said suddenly. She turned to Johnny O'Haire. "They are certainly not the Queen's men," she told him. "If they could put the village to sleep, they would be the same people who created the sleep sickness, what you called Gall's Breath. They would use the same devices to do either one."

He nodded. He looked at the two military men. "They told David Cording they were the Queen's men. They had the cowraghyn of the queen's men." And he pointed to Lethbridge Stewart's UNIT patch on his sleeve. "Like that. Only for the Queen and England."

Lethbridge Stewart nodded, suddenly understanding. "So they came with uniforms and military vehicles, and they called each other captain and major and all the rest?"

Johnny O'haire nodded.

"And what did they tell Mr. Cording? Did they want his cooperation?"

"Aye. The ard-leeideilagh of them, their head man, came and spoke to David. David made me their guide. They wanted the high places, the barren creachann, from which to work. They told David that they were looking for chaghteraght, the chaghteraght radio, like the old days long ago, when the Natseeagh sought to invade the country and dropped their bombs to destroy the country. They said the soldiery of the Queen had new ways to read the chaghteraght and confuse enemies. But they had to test it here, in secret, in the high places. David helped to hide them. He arranged to have food brought to the plant, and the men came at night to get their supplies."

The Brigadier cocked an eyebrow. "But did you suspect nothing when the suicides started?"

Johnny O'Haire was surprised at this. "How could chaghteraght cause this? We thought it was poison. David asked their ard-leeideilagh, and he said it probably was poison: poison intended to interrupt them and their testing. I thought for myself that perhaps Gall had found new ways to foul the waters, and I called the illness Gall's Breath: Gall Anail. The spirit of his malice once again in the waters. For he once before had power over the water to foul them." He glanced around the cabin. "And it did not strike here. Whoever I brought here recovered, at least for a time."

"You'll lead us to their camp, then?" the Brigadier asked him.

But Johnny O'Haire shook his head. "I will tell you how to get to their camps, for they have several. Up in the narren places. But my mission is to track down Gall Farraneagh. He has been driven to rage again, and the cult that worships him has yet again come back to life, though it has been stamped out time and again over the centuries. There shall be no rest in this valley until he is gone from it forever, for now there is freedom in England to worship devils."

"At least come back with us and get a decent vehicle," the Brigadier said suddenly, but the woodsman, though his eyes softened at this generous offer, shook his head.

"We shall use the gleash-wheeyl that Parsons left behind." He turned to Liz. "You will go with me, Elizabeth?"

"Yes," she said. "Of course."

The Brigadier frowned. "But if Miss Shaw is sensitive to these broadcasts, she'll become ill again once she's out of the radio shadow of this ravine." He appeared to be saying this to Johnny O'Haire, but Liz knew that the protest was actually directed to her.

"The Doctor and I were sited by one of the silver helmeted men when we first arrived," she said. "For all we know, they focused on both of us with specialized broadcasts---to see what would happen. But if not, if there was no specialized broadcast aimed specifically at that remote section of the valley where the Inn is situated, it still took nearly 24 hours for the effects to debilitate me." She arched her eyebrows. "Surely within 24 hours you'll have these silver helmeted fellows subdued."

* * * *

Midnight had long since passed in the UNIT camp on the edge of the village, but dawn was too far away to be looked for. The batteries in the camp lanterns were starting to flicker, causing the lights to wane.

Heedless of the flickering and ghostly lighting, the Doctor waited until the six soldiers had filed into the tent. Munro came in last of all and gave him a nod.

"Right," he said. "You've got your equipment, and you've got your positions marked out. You'll be dropped along the north road as close to your places as we can get you, and then you'll have to get the rest of the way on your own. There must be no noise, and you must stay under cover."

"Do you really think Morse code is the best, Doctor?" Jimmy Munro asked. This bit of improvisation on the Doctor's part had surprised even the adaptable captain.

"Radio signaling would be quickly jammed, Captain," the Doctor said sternly. A rumble of disbelief echoed through the men. They were not entirely pleased with being ordered about by this stranger. In spite of his previous success against the Nestenes, he dressed too oddly for them to feel quite comfortable, and his quick actions unsettled them. Nobody quite knew what was going on, nor why.

The Doctor's voice was sharp and sarcastic. "I assume you all know Morse code?"

Munro's reply was polite and deferential. "Perfectly, sir."

"These men are to go invisibly. But where ever there are bare places on the highest terrain---you've got to make a great show of getting soldiers up there---"

Munro was astonished. "We haven't got enough men for that, Doctor."

The Doctor was annoyed at his obtuseness. "You only need to make the enemy believe you've got enough men. Don't you see? The sonic bursts must be fired from places relatively free of deflectors. Straight down on the village if possible. Obviously the sound waves can travel through some media, but not the network of trees found in a forest. If we capture the high cliffs and barren places, we prevent whoever is up there from attacking the village."

Jimmy Munro cocked an eyebrow. "So send all the men out from the village with all the vehicles. Make a great show of capturing the open places on the summits. While three smaller teams creep up on them on the sly. And thus we leave less than a skeleton crew behind?"

"Precisely. As those silver helmeted fellows will certainly be snooping on us, we can counter by sending out false radio reports as soon as the sun comes up." The time lord glanced around at them. "Are there any questions?"

As nobody spoke, Munro made a decision. "Right then, you lot, let's go! We've a lot of ground to cover before morning!" He gave a jerk of his head toward the door and led them out.

* * * *

After the Brigadier and Sgt. Benton had received their directions from Johnny O'Haire, they once again set out to fidn their transport and get on their way. The day was breaking, and pink streaks in the high, clear sky foretold good weather.

There was some blood left on Parsons' motor bike. Liz wiped it down while the woodsman closed up the cabin and banked the fire in the stove. She swung her leg over the seat and then experimentally kick started the engine into life. She was successful the first time. She sat down on the seat and waited for him. The figures of the two UNIT men were already distant movements in the trees, retreating up the steep slope.

"You can control the gleash-wheeyl, Elizabeth?" Johnny O'Haire asked. He tied his pick axe across the back, under the rim of the long seat. Then he climbed onto the seat behind her. She hesitantly tested the torque of the engine by shifting the throttle towards herself. It was a good little motor bike, built for dependable riding over rough terrain. And Parsons had taken good care of it. The engine was about 200 cubic centimeters, and she thought it would transport them well, unhindered by their combined weights.

"Oh yes!" she exclaimed. "I've ridden before!" She didn't tell him that she had driven a motor bike exactly once previously, and it had been on a wide, flat, empty street in London at three in the morning. But Johnny O'Haire had never driven one at all, and so she was designated as the driver. Might as well appear confident about it.

She had tied back her reddish hair to keep her vision clear. The single helmet had been lost in Parson's scuffle with Gall Farraneagh, and so she was bare headed. Johnny O'Haire, to preserve his hat from disaster, doffed it from his head and sat on it.

He spoke from behind her. "Perhaps you should stay. Where the chaghteraght cannot reach you."

She turned her head as far as she could to answer him. "There are places of cover in the valley. If I become ill, I can find a place for shelter." She hesitated and then said, "I do want to go with you."

He slipped his arms around her. "Then cair vie, and away!" he exclaimed. "First to the lair that I showed you, and then to the stream." Her uncertainty about navigating the motor bike vanished. She pulled the throttle over, fixed her eyes on the track of ground in front of them, and they sped up the steep slope from the bottom of the ravine.

* * * *

David Cording was awake and pale when the Doctor entered the screened off section of the infirmary.

"Can you talk with me?" the Doctor asked.

"Yes," Cording whispered. The tube in his chest was still in place, and he had intravenous tubes connected to his arms. But barring the unforeseen, there was every chance that he would survive.

"The Brigadier is hunting up Johnny O'Haire, to get his help." The Doctor put his fists on his hips. "So you thought these men were regular army, and you gave them assistance in maintaining a covert operation. How did they get food and other supplies?"

"From the plant," Cording whispered. "I had materials trucked in to supply them. They came each week to get rations."

"How many are there, then?"

"They never said. They gave me a list of provisions to provide." He paused to catch his breath, and then he said. "I would guess thirty men, at the most."

"What about water up there? Can they get any without your assistance?"

"Yes, certainly. It's easier for them to have it in bottles, but there are plenty of streams."

The Doctor looked thoughtful. "So they could last up there for a few days with no new supplies. But we can hope they aren't disciplined enough to know that. The idea that we've cut off their food source might be enough to cause them to act rashly."

Cording nodded.

"I need you to put in a call to your foreman," the Doctor said. "Tell him not to let anybody remove supplies from the plant. I doubt that anybody will try now that UNIT is closing in, but let's make sure. Can you do that?"

"Yes," David Cording whispered. "Give me the phone."

* * * *

The soldiers stationed at the stream were astonished to see the motorbike approaching with its two unusual riders. Liz had mastered the piloting of it by then. She was accustomed to surprising her male counterparts in the academic world with her record of achievement and her incisive mind, and so she did not mind surprising the soldiers with her new found ability to drive a motor bike.

They stepped up as though to bar the way as she and Johnny O'Haire emerged from the trees and approached the bank of the stream. The X-shaped cross was still standing upright, but much of the other debris had been cleared away.

Liz pulled up. "Why are you blocking the way?" she asked. "I'm here with the Brigadier's knowledge. We need to gather some forensic information."

"Sorry Professor Shaw," one of them said. "We weren't expecting you."

Johnny O'Haire dismounted and jammed his hat onto his head. His keen eyes scanned the area. There was no need to state the obvious about the purpose of the place, or the intentions of the two dead men. He leaned over the seat of the motor bike and untied his pick axe.

He slung the weapon over his shoulder. "Where did Gall Farraneagh come out from the stream?" he asked.

The two soldiers barely glanced at each other, and then they led their two visitors to the exact place where the struggle had taken place.

Johnny O'Haire knelt down on both knees and put his face right over the blood. He almost seemed to be sniffing it. But then he looked at it closely with his eye. He kept his head down and traversed closer to the water, again with the appearance of sniffing. The two UNIT soldiers frowned at him. Unconcerned, he sat back on his heels and pushed his hat back. "Aye, he is wounded. There is his blood here on the ground, as well as the blood of another."

"The monster was shot by an old dueling pistol," the first soldier said. "A blunderbuss. That Broadshire fellow had it. Fired a single great load of shot point blank. The lads radioed back that the monster must be carrying a great bit of lead in his gut."

"It will hinder him," Johnny O'Haire said to Liz. "If it tore him well."

"I know of the English style blunderbuss pistol," Liz said. "If he was shot from one of those, fully loaded, at point blank range, then it's a marvel he can still get about."

The woodsman stood up. "Aye, to be gut shot would stop a mere man. But Gall Farraneagh even from this will eventually recover. Surely it has hindered him, though. Yet he has not crept away to his favorite lair."

"You know this creature's lair?" one of the soldier's asked, astounded.

"Aye. I fought him in its depths once upon a time." And the woodsman nodded. "And he has learned to go into its narrower parts, where a man cannot fight him well. But we looked for him there 'ere we came here. He has not gone into it. There was no sign of him at the entrance, nor any fresh smell of him inside."

"But he has other lairs?" Liz asked.

"Yes. All less accessible to him and less safe than the deep network of caves where he prefers to hide when he is quenched. I daresay he has not gone into hiding. He is seeking something. He was seeking something when those two fools tried to entice him to the young woman. We must track him from here. He may not have stayed long in the stream."

* * * *

The sun was climbing above the high ridges when the Brigadier and Benton rolled into the village.

"Most of the vehicles were gone. There were no soldiers going back and forth. In fact, the UNIT encampment was eerily quiet. "Where in blazes are the men?" the Brigadier asked. But then he gave his orders. "Find them. Get a platoon together," the Brigadier told the beefy young sergeant. "Six others and you. We've got to get to that command center. I'll notify the Doctor."

He didn't even wait for Benton's resolute "Yes sir!" before leaping out and finding his way past the chalked off line where the trucks and transports were supposed to be parked. He entered the supply tent that was doubling as the Doctor's lab. "Doctor? Any news to report?"

The Doctor had his terrain map out, spread across a fold-out table. He had marked several locations on it. He glanced up. "Yes, Brigadier. We've set up a guard over any likely bare places on the summits that our friends could possibly use as firing ranges," he said. "There's no doubt that these people are using this village and the surrounding area as a testing ground." He nodded at the map. "There are three major barren summits that would have been ideal for the firing of sonic bursts. If they set up their equipment in any of the cleared summit areas, then there was no doubt that they could get clear firing paths to the school, to the center of the village, and to the old inn where Liz was attacked."

"Whiting then," the Brigadier asked. "Did he go mad and attack Miss Shaw simply because they made him mad?"

"I doubt that." And the Doctor shot him a swift glance. "All the others who have died wanted to end their own misery, not go about creating misery for others. Perhaps the effects of the sleep disruption robbed him of some of his inhibitions or helped bring him to a frenzy. But the predilection to rape was there." He looked down at the map. "It does show that as soon as they saw us enter their range, they focused on us. Her sensitivity was increased by the stress of Whiting's attack. She was unable to rest adequately to recover. And she remained quite sensitive to the sonic reverberations. While you were just beginning to be effected, and hardly noticed it at all, she was profoundly effected, even as she moved slowly away from the highest concentration of the disruption. Apparently, once a person's recovery cycle is significantly impaired, that person becomes more and more susceptible to the disruptive interference."

"That knife and rope she mentioned," the Brigadier said. "We found them."

This caught the time lord's attention again. "Were you at the old inn? Why?"

But Lethbridge Stewart shook his head. "Two other men. Older men. They kidnapped a woman and took her up into the woods. One of them ran the library. They must have been in collusion with Whiting. They used the knife and rope on her. Didn't kill her though. And then the monster killed them. They must have been devoted to reviving the strength of Gall Farraneagh. Though I can't imagine why. "

The Doctor made a noise of disgust. "The typical human fascination with whatever is forbidden, dark, and deadly."

"And of course you've never dabbled in anything forbidden. Or gotten your fingers burned for it." This remark was meant as an acid reminder of the Doctor's exile. But the time lord's head jerked up. "Are you going to torment me with it? I never knew that's what happened. Not for centuries!"

In an instant, Lethbridge Stewart's confused expression showed that Liz Shaw had not betrayed the Doctor. Quickly, UNIT's scientific advisor became uncharacteristically contrite. "I apologize, Lethbridge Stewart. The pressures of doing all this without Liz's help is working against my temper."

"Yes, I told her to come back here, but she refused." And the Brigadier arched an eyebrow. He seemed to have passed over the Doctor's puzzling retort.

"No, no," the Doctor said quickly. "Liz ought to stay with Johnny O'Haire. She's learned quite a lot about this Gall Farraneagh. Tell me about those two men. Is the woman all right?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. But Gall Farraneagh killed both her abductors. A fit of rage, apparently. One of them discharged a potent little handgun into him. We're hoping that it slows him down." The Brigadier stepped up to the map and dropped his index finger on a point close to one of the Doctor's ink circles. "According to Johnny O'Haire, this is the camp HQ of the silver helmets. I think I can take it with a platoon of men."

"Yes, well, you don't have a platoon of men," the Doctor said. "I had Munro send most of them up to the sources of the sonic outbursts, to prevent another attack on the village. And six others are trying to seek out where the silver helmets are hiding."

"Well that's perfect!" the Brigadier exclaimed. "Just perfect!"

"You told me to take a free hand to stop them," the Doctor retorted. "That was the only way to stop them!"

"Well now what do we do?" He frowned and put his fists on his hips. Then he answered himself. "I don't expect there can be all that many of them up there. And they may not know what's going on. Especially if they still think that Cording was killed. I mean, nobody's told them otherwise."

The Doctor looked thoughtful. "There's a radio blackout on any real information. And with UNIT closing in, they can't escape the valley. We can still put this to our advantage."

"How? They've been very good at hiding." The Brigadier pointed at the map, to the line that marked the road where the Doctor and Liz Shaw had entered the valley. "They've only ever been spotted by people that they themselves did not take into account: you and Miss Shaw, and one of our outposts. We may be able to capture their equipment, but I'm not sure we can catch them."

"We'll have to draw them out," the Doctor said. "And I know how. They've been using Cording's plant as their source of supplies. Food must be running low for them. We'll have to make a show of getting provisions up to the men. Invite an attack from a group of them."

"Yes, and what do we do if they shoot us up with those sonic blasts of theirs? The time for experimenting is over. Those boys will play for keeps."

"We'll have to shield the provision truck. There ought to be materials at the plant, and we won't be attacked until we're well away from there."

He was interrupted as Benton entered. The young sergeant looked confused.

"Yes?" the Brigadier asked.

"Only the RT operators are left sir," he reported. "There's not enough blokes to storm an ant hill."

"Nonsense," the Brigadier said. "There's you, and me, and the Doctor. That ought to be plenty."

* * * *

"Do you know where he's going?" Liz asked as Johnny O'Haire crouched over a small streak of blood that marked a whisp of ferns and displayed in a dribble on the moist earth beneath.

"I think so," he said. "Gall Farraneagh is seeking the source of his pain. His hearing and his homing abilities are better than ours. Though he spent a day or two casting about here in the lower ground, seeking peace, he is now driven to find what is tormenting him."

"We'll track him?" Liz asked.

"We must."

"You'll let me come with you?"

"Yes." But he straightened up and looked at her, his eyes sober. "There is no happy ending to this, Elizabeth." He leaned the pick axe against the bole of a tree. He slipped his hands under her elbows. "You have given me the strength to meet this destiny, now that the time is right. Now I better know what I have fought for and defended for others. And now I shall fight him and defend what I have taken for myself." He put his arms around her. She kept her eyes on his eyes as she came into his arms and held him, and he held her. His voice was grim. "But though you have given me the joy I have longed for, and you filled my house with the sweetness I never knew before, yet still I must kill him, and when he dies, I will die as well."

There was no argument to his prediction, and Liz knew it was pointless to argue with him, anyway. "All right," she whispered. "But I want to go with you."

She knew that he wanted her to come, but he was still not happy. He fully believed that his death lay ahead, and that she would have to face it and endure it. "Then come," he whispered. "And if God will honor my requests, you will not return to the world of men alone." He lifted her chin and kissed her.

"Come then," he said briefly. He took up the pick axe with one hand, took her hand with the other, and led her up the slope. They followed the trail of blood drops, tracking Gall Farraneagh to the next place of battle.

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