Finn stepped carefully with his brother through the graveyard around capstones both overgrown and freshly opened. He and Donal sidled down the short slope toward the creek. Hissing, wheezing and groaning echoed from a higher position than his in the distance.

“Do you see anything?” Donal asked him.

“I do not, but I think I just heard a wingbeat,” Finn said. “Hopefully whatever’s out there can’t see us, either.”

Five minutes of disembodied noises passed before the sound of footsteps approached from behind.

“Anything?” Siobhan asked him.

“We’re going to have to cross the creek before we’ll see even a change in terrain,” Finn said. “And it will. They’re higher than us.”

“How many do you hear, lads?” Niall asked.

“Too many to count,” Donal said.

“Let’s cross together, then,” Niall said. “Siobhan, you and I will stick to the outside. Don’t get flanked. Boys, you keep us together. Stay within sight of each other and we’ll stay within sight of you.”

“It isn’t going to work,” Maeve said. “It’s too thick to see anything at range. The risk of me wingin’ you in this mess is too high for my comfort.”

“New plan, then,” Niall said. “Maeve runs between us. Donal and Finn stay within sight and do not let anything near her. She’s deft at close combat, but if she’s doing that she’s not covering us.”

“Got it,” Donal said.

“And Maeve, keep an eye behind us. I don’t like how those things appeared out of nowhere.”

“Agreed,” she said.

The five hurdled the creek and fanned out. Visibility kept their spacing within twelve yards. They walked seventy more before the front slope of a ridge came into view.

Maeve let her voice carry only as far as she felt comfortable.

“There they are,” Maeve said. “At the crest of the ridge. Five on our side. I can see the heads of four more on the other.

Niall and Siobhan heard her speak but couldn’t make out the words.

“I see three of those things in front of us,” Niall whispered to Finn.

“Maeve said there’s two more ahead of the others, and at least four more over the ridge,” Finn whispered.

“Tell her we fight on her shot,” Niall said. “It would be grand if she could drop another before we swung a weapon.”

Maeve nodded after Finn relayed the message. She moved in deliberate half-strides. Her left foot led and her right met it without overstepping. After a few steps the sluagh’ shadow materialized in the fog in front of Finn, aligned just as Maeve described. She shifted her feet into the proper base, knocked an arrow and took aim at the sluagh standing in the middle of the crowd.

“Be ready,” she whispered.

Wingbeats emerged twenty feet above Maeve’s head. She tilted forward in surprise as her fingers loosed the arrow. Finn looked at the air directly above her but saw nothing. Instead the wingbeats trailed ahead of them over the ridge, leaving only the sound of a sluagh hissing at the arrow embedded in its lower leg.

Maeve cursed at the empty sky above her.

“I guess that means ‘go!’” Niall yelled. “Don’t run ahead. Keep the line, move forward together.”

The wounded sluagh limped down the hill at Maeve. Other creatures in the vicinity wheezed and hissed as they searched through the fog for the commotion. Their search ended quickly and they ran down the slope towards the group.

Niall staggered the first monster to reach him with one swing of his mace.

“Much better,” he said. “Wish she would have blessed our weapons sooner.”

Finn fought the other sluagh with less than full faith in his fighting skills. He swung Fragarach with both hands, fearful to let his left hand fall off the handle. The creature raised an arm to attack. Finn slid to his right and swung the blade sideways, burying his blade in what passed for the sluagh’s ribs.

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He glimpsed the field beyond his current foe. Another creature descended the hill. Two more climbed the other side. Judging from sounds, a dozen more were far behind this ridge. There were too many. Fighting these creatures five at a time would take several hours at the current rate.

“This is taking too long,” Finn yelled to Niall.

They’d lose another hour locating and removing the source of the curse. Then they would rest and lick their wounds—and who could rest knowing how far behind Breaslin they had fallen?

“What did you have in mind?” Niall said.

Niall’s opponent was hunched over to his left, unable to prevent the combination that would end it.

“Knock your sluagh backwards and in my direction.”

“Why?”

“So he can meet up with my friend here.”

Niall narrowed his eyes at Finn. Had they more time, this would be more of a debate. He swung the mace in his left hand, sending the crouching sluagh flying away from him at an angle. Finn put his foot on his creature’s stomach and pushed it backwards onto its deceased partner.

He followed it up the hill. The three new combatants neared. Finn took a breath, pulled his left hand in and pushed it toward the five sluagh.

“Tórann!”

Nothing came forth from the other plane.

“Tórann!”

“Now’s not the time for practice, lad!” Niall said.

Finn pulled and pushed his left hand slower and yelled a bit louder.

“Tórann nerto!”

Static shock backfired and arced between his fingers. Finn yelped and shook his hand, a taste of metal in his mouth.

“Finn?”

Finn looked at his left hand.

You did it before, he thought to himself. Are you too scared? You’re doing it just like you did in training—

Finn tilted his head back and groaned at the sky. He shifted the sword to his non-dominant hand. The three new sluagh stepped over their fallen comrades and reached for him. Finn pulled back his right hand and shoved it at the monstrous pile.

“Tórann nerto!”

The hairs on his right arm stood on end. Lightning arced between his fingers but caused no pain this time. It took less than a second for a ball of lightning to form in front of his palm and disappear, creating a concussive wave in its absence.

The wave rolled toward the pile of creatures, launching them backwards five yards from their original spot. The first pair lay motionless. The three new sluagh were fumbling to stand.

“Now!” yelled Finn. “Get them while they’re down!”

Finn and Niall ran them and stabbed each monster once in the chest. The men surveyed their surroundings and saw Maeve jogging into clear view.

“You two trying to draw even more attention to us?” she asked.

“We tried being quiet and polite,” Niall said. “They still wanted to hit us.”

“But we were able to drop several with basically one blow,” Finn said. “Oi! Since we’re fine, shouldn’t you be helping Siobhan and my brother?”

“I think that end of the ridge is clear now,” Maeve said.

“Already?” Finn asked. “How did they keep it so quiet?”

“Siobhan entangled groups of ‘em while Donal and I finished them off.”

“Oh,” Finn said.

Even if he couldn’t summon the roots like a druid, Finn still felt embarrassed that he didn’t at least think of it. That was a great plan. The pride he felt over his thunder spell developed a speck of tarnish.

“Did either of you ever see whatever it was that flew over me at the start of the fight?” Maeve asked.

“It was probably one of the sluagh we haven’t got to yet,” Finn said.

Maeve grabbed Finn’s arm. Her tone turned sober.

“They can do that?” Maeve said.

“They’re meant to have wings and they fly sometimes,” Finn said “My guess is the fog takes away the advantage of flying. I wonder if Breaslin thought of that when he set this mess up.”

Siobhan and Donal caught up with the other three.

“Heard the show you put on,” Siobhan said. “Sorry we missed it.”

“It took three tries and I had to switch which hand I used,” Finn said. “Could have gone smoother.”

Siobhan laughed.

“You’ll have to practice casting with your left hand for a while before it feels natural.”

She scanned the field ahead. Her smile faded.

“At a later time, though,” she said. “Niall!”

“I see them,” he said.

A dozen more sluagh stood scattered across the field at the bottom of the slope. A handful more stood near a circular hole two hundred yards away. Several of the creatures in the field ambled toward the slope. Finn had little doubt the sound of his thunder spell grabbed their attention.

“Maeve, tell me you can cover us from here,” Niall said.

“I can see it all,” she said.

“Brilliant. We’re splitting wide this time. Siobhan, work your way to the sides and then push to the middle. Finn, you’re with me. Maeve, you take any that don’t follow us back and any others you can after that.”

Niall led Finn down the left side of the field. Three sluagh followed them. If injury hindered Niall’s fighting ability, Finn didn’t see it. He dodged a swipe and dispatched his opponent with a swing of the mace and two of the sword. Finn, however, struggled more than the previous fight. He lacked the skill to wield his magic or sword effectively with his left hand. He settled on a strategy of using magic to knock his opponent off balance and the sword to finish the job.

“Bocóit,” he said.

His right arm warmed, encircled by pale yellow light the size of one of Gavin’s bucklers. A faint smell of incense entered his nose as he used the lambent shape to knock away a sluagh’s claw. Followed with a quick wind spell, Finn had the opening he needed to defeat the monster with his sword—despite using his weaker hand.

An arrow whistled through the air in front of him and struck its target with a thud as Finn removed the sword from his foe. He raised his head and confirmed that Maeve had downed the third sluagh for them.

“Farther!” Niall said.

The hole he spotted from higher ground was a hundred yards away but Niall continued in a tangential path beside it. The stench was now strong enough to stagger his pace.

Finn used the short break to listen for Donal and Siobhan. The fog obscured them from view, but the sounds of weapon strikes and odd noises indicated they were alive and keeping with their end of the plan.

“This is far enough,” Niall said after twenty more paces. “Now we push toward that pit.”

Finn moved toward the group of sluagh. He sized up the nearest creature on the right side. He stepped with striking range and adjusted into a battle-worthy stance. Wing flaps emerged from his right side and a flying sluagh knocked Finn airborne before the word “bocóit” could echo from the hills.