“Finn? Are you still out here?”

Murrough navigated back and forth through fields of chest-high wheat behind the MacLaughlin home. Once Finn had pulled the final weed in his area—and the novelty of hiding waned—he stood up to let his uncle off the hook.

“Couldn’t hide from you like this six weeks ago, could I?” Finn said.

Murrough canted his head.

“Why would you want to hide from me?”

“I’m not saying I wanted to. I’m saying couldn’t hide from you even if I wanted.”

Finn looked west at the orange sky.

“Surprised to see you out here this late in the day,” he said.

“I could say the same for you, lad. I had expected to catch you two after dinner," Murrough said. "Have you eaten?”

“Soon,” Finn said. “We’re going to help out the O’Gallaghers tomorrow. I wanted to finish up some things here today.”

“Where’s Siobhan?”

“Taking a break by the bay,” Finn said. “She’s meant to be, at least. Now that everything’s popping out of the ground, she worries about covering Donal’s share of the work while he’s gone.”

Murrough smiled.

“Right?” Finn asked. “Putting a toe outside the house before noon would qualify as ‘covering Donal’s share.’”

Finn clapped the dirt off his hands and rested them on his hips.

“I was just going to get her,” Finn said. “Come on.”

Murrough gestured for Finn to lead the way. They stepped between his barley fields toward the beach.

“Has everyone recovered?” Finn asked.

“Essentially,” Murrough said. “The renewal spread much like the curse did. It's still making its way to furthest cursed regions, but those regions weren’t cursed for long—they weren’t affected as much as we were.”

“There’s something I’ve been worried about,” Finn said.

“Which is?”

“We were able to bring back a lot of the summer crops, which is great,” Finn said. “Still, the harvest was delayed by over a month. Did we permanently shift the annual calendar? Must we change the Old Holidays permanently because of what we did?”

“We didn’t change the sun or the moon, which means we didn’t change the seasons or the tides,” Murrough said. “Indeed, the next few months before winter will be unusual but nobody will go hungry because of it—thanks to the four of you.”

“The six of us, you mean,” Finn said.

“Of course.”

“Because I know you won’t let me count you as seven.”

“You’re right,” Murrough said. “I won’t.”

Siobhan must have heard them talking.

“Howya, Murrough?" she asked. "Come for dinner?”

“I’ve had dinner. But perhaps I could do with some more.”

“Brilliant,” she said. “Just taking in the last views of the evening before we head in.”

The three of them looked out over Ballyness Bay and let the waves and gulls run the conversation for a few minutes. Murrough noticed Finn’s eyeline never strayed from one place.

“This entire bay, full of beauty, and you can’t help but stare at the gloomiest part,” he said.

“That fog over Tory Island is still there,” Finn said. “We never found Breaslin. I can’t help but think this business with the Fomori isn’t over.”

“Of course it isn’t,” Murrough said. “If Breaslin’s already involved Crom Dubh, we should expect he’s approached the more traditional Fomori leaders.”

“That’s not encouraging,” Finn said. “Have we lost all of the ground we gained on them for the sake of rest and the harvest?”

“We have not,” Murrough said. “You’re right to worry about becoming complacent but the Fomori and their sympathizers have gone quiet for now. Also, we’re in a better place to respond if they resurface. You four became a formidable team in the span of ten days and you boys have had six more weeks of training since then. And we’re not the only Sílrad Déithe and Sílrad Cummasc in Ulster, much less in Ireland. We’ll add more to our ranks. If things get truly desperate, we can go looking for the other Treasures.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“You know where the Sword and Spear are?” Siobhan asked. “That’s the first I’ve heard of anyone knowing that.”

“I know where some say they are,” Murrough said. “But it is quite the trip. I’d prefer we not make the journey unless it’s necessary. Tell me something, Finn: is this all you talk about?”

Finn narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his brow.

“You have a way of bringing it out of him,” Siobhan said, “As of late, he only brings it up when you’re around.”

“I’m glad of it,” Murrough said. “If you spend all your time worrying about trouble that might happen, you’ll miss out on all the joy that is happening. It will hollow you out. You can be vigilant and remain present in the world around you. I had hoped to have successfully taught you that lesson by now.”

“Ah well, it’s not for your lack of trying,” Finn said.

“We’re working on it,” Siobhan said.

Murrough and Siobhan shared a smile.

“How about I head in and give you a jump on dinner?” Murrough said.

“Thank you, uncle,” Finn said. “We’ll be in soon.”

Murrough winked at Siobhan as he headed toward the house. Finn sat down next to her.

“O’Gallaghers tomorrow?” she asked.

“Shouldn’t be too bad,” he said. “It’ll be good to get them taken care of.”

“Listen to you,” she said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say Finn MacLaughlin is starting to like farming.”

“It’s always easier when things are growing,” he said, “but I have made peace with it. It could be a good life.”

He looked Siobhan over and smiled.

“A very good life.”

Siobhan groaned and rolled her eyes in spite of her reddening face.

“Getting ahead of ourselves again, are we?” she asked.

The smile on Finn’s face disappeared. He stammered in search of a response. Siobhan let him off the hook with a giggle and a forearm to his upper arm. She leaned on him and rested her head on his shoulder.

“How do you think he’s doing?” she asked.

“I don’t know, Shiv,” he said. “It’s good that he can be out there without me—or you, for that matter. It’s such an odd feeling to say, ‘I don’t know what my brother's doing’ without a sense of worry. Odd to know that when he hits a rough patch he can get through it without me there.”

“We’ll see him soon enough,” she said. “In the meantime, he’s among family. They’ll work it out together.”

****

Donal nearly tripped over Niall’s dog as ran to the window.

“He’s here!” yelled Donal.

“What are you yelling about?” Niall said.

Donal pointed toward the front yard of the MacRannell home.

“Gavin’s here,” he said. “I hear his horse, that’s all.”

“‘That’s all’ is not something you yell about,” Niall said. “And Cáemaid is still officially my horse—not that she cares anymore.”

“Maybe I yelled because wanted to make sure Maeve heard me?”

“She was sitting between us right here at the bleedin’ table!”

“Hang on,” Maeve said. “Someone’s here? Why didn’t you eejits tell me?”

Niall grunted as he started to stand.

“Give Gavin my regards. I have anywhere else to be.”

“Sit down, big fella,” said Maeve. “You’re only encouraging us to keep going.”

Gavin opened the door and stepped inside from the chilly autumnal morning. He carried something wrapped in linen under his arm.

“Dia daoibh,” Gavin said.

“Haven’t seen you in a week,” Niall said. “Everything alright?”

“Ah, you know yourself,” Gavin said. “Some projects come up and reel you right in until you finish them.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Niall said. “Still, it’s good to see you, lad.”

Gavin smiled. He walked over to the table to the seat Donal almost kicked over on his rush to the window.

“This seat taken?” Gavin asked.

“It is not,” Maeve said. “All yours!”

Donal flashed her a dirty look as he sat down the last empty chair. She returned one of mock innocence before she turned to Gavin, idly rubbing the top of his back. Gavin placed the parcel on the table and leaned over to pet Púc.

“This is?” Niall asked.

“For you,” Gavin said.

Gavin slid it across the table to Niall. The elder reached with his left hand and unfurled each corner of the linen wrapping, one at a time.

He stared the item through squinted eyes for a few moments.

“I don’t understand,” Niall said. “It’s a metal fist. I appreciate the thought and all but it’s too heavy to just hang on my arm all day.”

“Look closer,” Gavin said.

Niall picked the silver hand up and looked back at Gavin. Every segment of each finger was a separate piece, held together at the joints by metal pins. He set the back of the hand on the table and opened each finger until the entire palm was exposed.

“How is this meant to work?” Niall asked.

“It doesn’t—yet,” Gavin said. “I’m going to need some help to finish the job.”

“It looks finished to me,” Niall said.

“But it doesn’t work,” Gavin said. “I talked to Cían MacSweeney down at Doe. He and Siobhan will meet us down there the week after next to see if we can get this yoke behaving like a proper hand.”

“You can do that?” Niall asked.

“Are you going to sit there and pretend you don’t know the story of your own ancestor?” Gavin asked. “Nuadu’s silver hand allowed him to rule the Tuatha Dé for a second time.”

“I still can’t believe he made a spear that flies back to its owner,” Donal said.

“‘Always the arm of a descendant of Lugh,’” Gavin said. “I wish I could have seen the look on your face the first time you learned that wasn’t a simple poem.”

“Speaking of,” Niall said, “where is that spear? I haven’t seen it lately. Is it back at Ards Beg?”

“It’s here,” Donal said. “Right here.”

Donal pointed to the silver hand.

“You’re daft!” Niall said. “Why would you do that?”

“It had already been a month, and Gavin said he couldn’t get enough silver,” Donal said. “We saved the stone from the Red Javelin in case we need Gavin to make another one. But I don’t need a weapon right now as much as you need this.”

“I don’t agree with it,” Niall said, “but thank you. Thank you both.”

“Oi! I had to part with a couple silver arrowheads myself!” Maeve said. “Where’s my thanks?”

“You still kept 20 of them,” Donal muttered.

“I heard that.”

“Thank you, Maeve,” Niall said.

The group watched Niall rotate the hand in different orientations for further examination.

“So, Donal,” Gavin said, “Five weeks away from home. How are you feeling?”

“It’s been six,” he said. “But it’s been grand. Sure, I miss my brother sometimes—but don’t tell him that.”

“We know you miss Siobhan more than your brother, anyway,” Maeve said.

“As anyone would,” Donal said.

“Have your episodes gone away?” Gavin asked.

“I still get ‘em,” Donal said, “and they still get rather dark. But I’m getting better at remembering in the moment that the light always comes back. It’s not easy, and there are times when I still can’t or it doesn't help. It’s slowly getting better, though, and for now that’s enough.”

“And there’s enough of us to remind you if you forget,” said Niall. “Come on, there’s enough time to get in a training session before lunch.”