Donal placed a chair against the wall directly behind the tower house.

“Are you sure this is going to be comfortable enough?” he asked.

“Well, seein’ as the surgeon’s room barely holds two people when they aren’t sparring, this seems the only choice,” Niall said. “The bawn is the biggest area available.”

Nectan carried in an archery target, as did his younger brother Ruarcc and their cousins Dougal and Fintan. At lunch Faelan tasked Nectan with placing the two bales of straw, two barrels disguised as training partners and four archery targets along the bawn walls. For his part, Donal helped Faelan bring out two armfuls each of spears too dull to cut bread. They leaned them all against the wall next to Niall.

“Do you think we’re going to need all this for just an hour or two?” Donal asked. “It was my understanding that we’re leaving tomorrow as long as Niall’s up for it.”

“I think two hours would be the minimum, don’t you?” Faelan asked. “As for the equipment, better to have and not need than the other way ‘round.”

He tilted his head toward the boys.

“That and Ruiri wanted the lads out from under foot. The bales are for them,” he said.

He narrowed his eyes at their placement next to the wooden figures.

“Speaking of, lads, why don’t you move the straw next to Niall? It will consolidate the areas we want to avoid.”

Donal caught a glimpse of movement through the castle’s rear entrance. Finn and Siobhan had been swinging wooden practice swords in the yard since lunch. Donal wondered why he warranted the audience instead of them.

The crowd seated, Faelan grabbed a spear from the line along the wall and handed it to Donal.

“I trust by now that you’ve heard enough about the basics of our magic?” Faelan asked.

“You summon it from some other place, then take some of the energy from here and give it back.”

Faelan shrugged.

“That’s… close enough. Druids, filí, sorcerers, they speak an incantation to focus on the effect they want to achieve. Some of the great ones didn’t need to speak an incantation at all. They did it by focus and emotion.”

“Grand, but I’m not any of those,” Donal said.

“You’re not, but you’ll understand why I mentioned the others in a moment. I understand you’ve shown some great physical feats in the past week?”

“Just that lucky throw against the dullahan. Before you ask, I still don’t know how I did it. I just threw it without thinking.”

“Niall says you left one of his trees in rag order.”

“I suppose I did. What of it?”

“That’s the one I want to talk about. What were you two doing when you threw that pole through the tree?”

“We were training—at least we were meant to be. Niall started giving out to me and I got mad.”

“That’s not exactly how I remember it,” Niall said.

“Says him. He poked at me until I got so mad it felt like I was baking in my own skin.”

“Baking?” Faelan asked.

“My skin got hot. Thought it was the sun peeking out until it got too hot for that.”

“Do you remember how you threw it?”

“Of course,” Donal said. “I threw it with my arm.”

Donal knew what Faelan meant, but he was tired of the subject. Faelan threw up his hands in surrender.

“Nevermind,” he said. “Any other times come to mind?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Maeve told me you had quite the throw to pin down the ávertach,” Niall said.

“I think Maeve emptying half a quiver into its back may have had something to do with it,” Donal said. “I guess my throw came last.”

Maeve’s voice rang through the bawn and the growing din in Donal’s head.

“That's enough, Donal.”

She shifted two of the boys to the side with a gesture and sat on the straw next to Niall’s chair.

“How long have you been here?” Donal asked.

“Long enough to know you’re wasting everybody’s time right now.”

She pointed to Faelan and didn’t utter another word.

Faelan put a hand on Donal’s shoulder and took a knee to drop below his eye level.

“Look at me,” Faelan said.

“I have been the whole time,” Donal said.

“Good. Now listen.”

“I hear you.”

“Hearing is not listening.”

“Fine.”

“I don’t know what you’re worried about right now, but everybody here is on your side,” Faelan said. “You’ve got raw power, but you can’t control when it comes out. You barely control what you do with it. That’s what I’m here to help with. And I want to help. The two of us will close our eyes, take a deep breath and get back to it. Ready?”

Donal closed his eyes, sneaking one peek to confirm Faelan was following his own direction. He felt the cool air from the bay travel up his nose and down into his lungs. He expanded his cheeks and blew it out slowly.

He felt calmer. He hated that it made it feel calmer. He hated that little part of him that wanted to stay mad for some inexplicable reason. He hated that he couldn’t say with certainty that little part of him was Shadow’s creation. Yet he was calmer, in spite of it all.

“There you are,” Faelan said.

He rose to his feet.

“What happened right before you threw your spear at the ávertach? I’m not judging or critiquing. I want to understand.”

“Finn was worried about it reaching the crypt, and Maeve was too close for the bow. I couldn’t line up a throw, and Finn talked at me like I was worthless.”

“That’s not exactly how I remember it,” said Maeve.

Niall almost held back his smirk.

“You know what I mean, Maeve,” Donal said. “He wondered if he should have brought me.”

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“That’s more like it,” she said.

“This is good,” Faelan said. “Did you feel the heat before the throw?”

Donal’s mouth fell open.

“I did, come to think of it!”

“Remember earlier, when I talked about the great druids and sorcerers that could do magic with focus and emotion? For sílrad like yourself that are primarily warriors and fighters, using focus and emotion is how you get things done a majority of the time. It’s called imbáulad magic.”

“So if I want to do magic, I have to get mad first?” Donal said.

“I hope it’s the exact opposite,” Faelan said. “It might get the job done in the short-term, but that’s not a healthy way to be.”

“So what am I meant to do?”

“We have to find a way for you to tap into the plane—Mag Mon—without burning yourself out in the process," Faelan said. "Stand here.”

He directed Donal to a point in front of one of the archery targets.

“Find the balance point of the spear. Now hold it as such.”

Faelan brought Donal’s arm up so that the spear was at ear level, parallel to the ground.

“Now close your eyes.”

“Again?”

Faelan didn’t respond. Donal complied.

“Think about those last two moments. Don’t focus on the anger. Go back a little further and think about why it made you angry. Don’t throw the spear until you have the answer.”

Donal couldn’t think past the anger. He was stuck on Niall’s prediction of scorn and ridicule and Finn’s lack of confidence. The dismissal from two people so close to him.

You’re mad because they were right, Shadow told him.

Not now, Donal thought. Not in front of everyone.

That’s why you exaggerated to Faelan what they did, Shadow told him. You know they don’t think you can do this. They said it themselves, even if it wasn’t in those words.

But that’s not what they actually said, Donal thought. That’s what I heard. That’s what--

Donal felt heat radiate from his chest to his limbs. This heat was different, though. It didn’t happen to him. He caused it.

He opened his eyes and extended his left arm forward. He pulled imbáulad energy from Mag Mon forward with the spear and returned some energy with his left hand as it drew backward. His follow-through hunched him forward. His speard pierce the upper right of the target before its head exited through the back of the target—judging by how little of the handle was visible from the front.

“Pure quality, lad,” Faelan said.

The boys erupted in whoops and hollers. Maeve and Niall clapped, broad grins on both faces. The cracking of wooden swords behind the castle stopped with the commotion. Finn and Siobhan came to check on the source.

“What was the answer, boyo?” Niall asked.

“I was the one telling myself that I deserved to be dismissed, that I wasn’t good enough. I was mad at myself for thinking it and I was mad at myself for blaming you two for it.”

Niall smiled and nodded.

Finn walked up and threw his arm over Donal.

“You’re not going to get mad for telling yourself that you missed the center of the target, are you?”

“Are you coddin’ me right now, Finn?”

“I am,” Finn said.

He gave Donal a pat on the back. “Well done. You should get back to practicing while your head’s in a good state.”

“Wait,” Donal said. “Maeve, can you talk to us for a moment?”

Maeve furrowed her brow and looked at Niall, who gestured for her to join the brothers. Donal led them out of listening distance from the rest of the bawn.

“I couldn’t help but wonder if the stuff going on in my head—the shadow and all—is because of this battle magic.”

Finn threw his hands up and stepped back.

“Donal, what are you on about? And why did you bring her over for this?”

“You can stop pretending, Finn.” Donal said. “We talked about it the other night when I couldn’t sleep.”

Finn pulled his head back and raised the left side of his mouth.

“You did?”

“He did,” Maeve said. “I can promise you I took the news much better than that dopey show you put on just now. To answer your question, lad: I doubt they are one in the same.”

“You truly think they’re different?” Donal asked. “Even though this battle magic is all about emotion and focus?”

“I still don’t think your shadow is something that can be fixed with a deadly throw or two,” Maeve said. “I think it’s going to take time. Maybe while learning how to control the imbáulad, you also will learn ways to make peace with what’s troubling you.”

Finn looked at Donal and shrugged.

“I got nothing else to add. I can see now why you told her. Back to training.”

****

“There’s something I don’t understand,” Donal said, “and I don’t know how to ask it.”

The boys had long lost interest in training. Maeve walked Niall back to the guest quarters. Faelan and Donal were the only two souls in the bawn, taking a break from training and the late afternoon sun.

“Out with it,” Faelan said.

“I know I’m not the historian that my brother is, but I thought you MacSweeneys were gallowglas. How can you come from Scotland and still be descended from the Tuireann of the Tuatha Dé?”

“I think you asked it just fine,” Faelan said. “My ancestors did come here several generations ago, but can you guess where my ancestors’ ancestors came from before they moved to Scotland?”

“Are you serious?” Donal said. “They were from Ireland before that?”

“A branch of the O’Neill clan, if I remember the stories correctly.”

“That’s still a lot of land to gain in just a few generations,” Donal said.

“You’d think so,” Faelan said. “Land has a habit of vanishing faster than it’s gained.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Faelan stood up and rubbed the back of his head.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Doesn’t sound like ‘nothing.’”

“Just one of the problems that come with being the youngest in a big family. Ruiri has our lands divided among the five children. When I was your age, he named Lorcan steward of my share. I’ve got a family of my own now, and Lorcan still has no plans to abdicate his stewardship of my lands.”

“Donal and I were talking with your wife last night and she mentioned Lorcan. He sounds like a gombeen, all right.”

A quick laugh burst out of Faelan. He collected himself and rubbed the back of head again.

“Perhaps,” he said. “I wouldn’t say that in front of anyone else here. Even though most would agree with you. It’s rough right now because Saerlaith and I only get a portion of the money of the land we’re rightfully owed. Lorcan brags about how he’s endured the blight so far—it’s our parcel that’s growing anything. His own land is struggling as much as any other.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Donal said.

“All we want is a fair chance with what’s due us.”

Faelan looked over the rear wall toward the bay. His eyes glazed over in a stare that could have seen Scotland.

The sun had reached the halfway point of its western decline. In less than an hour it would collide with a wall of towering white clouds that slid over western Tyrconnell on a pewter curtain of rain. The monotonous stretch of dry weather would end soon, but for now the sun held sway over Doe. Its reflection in Faelan’s eyes turned his green irises into their own light source.

For his part, Donal had no idea where to go with the conversation. The awkwardness was enough to make him ignore his aching muscles and sweat-drenched clothes and resume his training. Faelan’s mind returned to the bawn with a chuckle to himself.

“Maybe it’s the ungrateful runt of the family in me speaking,” Faelan said, “but I’m starting to get a sense of how the O’Gallaghers, MacCleans, MacFaddens—even Éamon’s people—felt when my clan took hold here.”

“Éamon?” Donal asked.

“The Breaslins. You know yourself by now the MacSweeneys removed them from their land east of here.”

“I only know it because Murrough and Niall told me,” Donal said. “I had already forgotten they said it was the MacSweeneys who did it.”

“Well, distant relations. By now we’re distant cousins.”

“You’re saying that like I accused you of throwing them out yourself,” Donal said. “Well, if Lorcan won’t relent, talk to Siobhan’s mam. Won’t be another year or two before Finn and I fail for good. I’d rather your family take my parents’ house than some bogger I don’t know.”

“That’s pretty bleak,” Faelan said. “But that means a lot. Where do you two live?”

“West of Ards Beg, right on Ballyness Bay.”

“How far away is that from here?”

“Maybe an extra hour from your sister-in-law’s place in the Crossroads,” Donal said. “Depending on how you travel.”

“That might be enough distance from my brother and father,” Faelan said. “It’s grand of you to offer that. If it ever comes to that—and I hope it never does—I will give it some heavy thought. A bit of advice, though?”

“I’m listening,” Donal said.

“Your brother’s a sound man and seems like a good brother,” Faelan said. “Maybe check with him before you literally give away the farm?”

“I’ll give it some heavy thought,” Donal said.