“I’m glad you’re here, Niall,” Murrough said. “I’ve regretted the terms on which we parted since you pushed off from the docks at Dunfanaghy.”

  “Well, I better understand why you did what you did,” Niall said. “Honestly, though, there might be a part of me that will always be mad at you.”

  “Niall MacRannell!” Caragh said. She flung her hand toward the portal. “In that case, you better send some of that ire my way as well.”

  Falling apart before we’ve even started, Siobhan thought. She stepped between the couple and rested a hand on each of their arms. “Surely Murrough didn’t summon us here for another row.”

  “I did not,” Murrough said. “There are troubling developments in motion.”

  “The portals?” Caragh said, pinching her face into a frustrated expression. “Damn me arm. Maybe we should send someone else south.”

  “Perhaps,” Murrough said. “Their work continues, no doubt, but there’s more devious work afoot at the moment. There’s a priest by the name of MacFirbis going around northern and eastern Tyrconnell. He’s taking an antibishop stance against Bishop MacCarmaic in Raphoe.”

  “Why is that our concern?” Niall asked.

  “Because he’s got the support of Breaslin," Murrough said. “MacFirbis already is blaming the ‘pagans’ for the blight last year, the wolf rampages four years ago, and anything else he can think of.”

  Niall nudged Siobhan. “He’s not wrong about the wolves, hai?”

  Siobhan nudged him back. “Whist!”

  “He’s begging local priests and deacons to let him identify families and individuals suspected of paganism,” Murrough said. “They aren’t eager to comply.”

  “That sounds refreshingly temperate of them.” Caragh said.

  “Less so than you think,” Murrogh said. “MacFirbis isn’t well-liked.”

  “So, that’s why MacFirbis wants MacCarmaic gone,” Niall said.

  Siobhan had spent more time at mass than the other three people combined. “Not just gone,” she said. “If MacFirbis is acting as antibishop, it means he wishes to replace the current man.”

  The edges of Murrough’s head distorted as he nodded. “Indeed. But my friends in Letterkenny tell me the matter's sunk before it leaves the pier. MacFirbis’s father was a priest as well.”

  “And the Church doesn’t look fondly upon priests having weins,” Siobhan said.

  Niall shrugged. “Grand. So that Italian archbishop they brought up to Armagh can step in.”

  “The good Archbishop De Spinellis has other political issues occupying his focus,” Murrough says. “The Church called him to settle another heated antibishop matter to the south in Kilmore—oddly similar to what’s happening in Raphoe—and Meath’s archbishop is undermining him at every opportunity. Up here, on the far end of the island? We’re not a priority.”

  “I can’t imagine the O’Cahans, the O’Neills, and all the other aul’ families will enjoy public scrutiny,” Siobhan said.

  “They would not,” Murrough said. “Which is why MacFirbis hasn’t named them. He’s focused on our lands for now. He and Breaslin will build support there before they make overtures in Coleraine, Tyrone and the rest of Ulster.”

  A shiver ran down Siobhan’s back. Mam. My brothers. My nieces and nephews. Uncle Faelan’s family. She shuddered. Murrough caught her movement, even through the swirling light of the portal.

  “Hai, lass,” he said. “All MacSweeneys are high on MacFirbis’ list.”

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  “We’re the biggest challenge to him in the north,” Siobhan said.

  Murrough twisted his head. “It’s more than that, I fear. If Breaslin and MacFirbis successfully marshal the public against your family, they can swoop in and snatch your land and possessions.”

  Siobhan took a deep breath. “Fine, I’ll grant that it sounds grim. We’ll push harder to get the Treasures while Ana, Brendan and Ciara work on the manner of our safe return. With a little luck we’ll be back before those two can sink their claws any deeper into Tyrconnell. Look what we’ve accomplished in less than a week!”

  “Lass,” Murrough said, “More than four months have passed here since you left.”

  “So you were stuck in a mountain pass in the middle of the night, fighting for your lives,” Finn said, “and you thought to yourself, ‘Hell with the rest of you, I need to stop and pet this hound?’”

  Donal smiled. The brothers sat along the brim of a pond near Ana’s cottage. Their furry companion spent most of the past hour sitting just out of Donal’s reach. Now it stirred and paced in circles around the young men. Donal leaned to his side and extended himself away from his brother until his arm stretched to its limit.

  “What are you doing?” Finn asked.

  Donal sat upright and showed Finn the answer to his question. He twisted a tree branch the width of his wrist in front of the dog. He took a deep breath and drew his right hand back until he felt the magic warmth within it and let the stick fly high over the treetops to the south. The hound sunk its chest to the ground, flopped its tail once and leapt toward the woods in pursuit.

  Finn huffed as he shook his head. “Good to see you have a handle on your imbáulad magic in this place.” He pinched his face and turned to Donal. “Is he going to come back with it?”

  Donal shrugged. “No idea,” he said. “Probably not. He’ll likely just grab another stick when he gets bored.”

  Finn nodded and looked back at the woods. “Siobhan tells me that Maura’s criticism of your conduct was a wee bit overstated.”

  Donal raised his eyebrows. “You two stopped making eyes at each other long enough to talk, did ya?”

  Finn pointed a finger at Donal, unable to restrain his smile. “Given what else I’ve heard, I doubt you want to take this conversation in that direction.”

  “Fine, fine,” Donal said with a sigh. “Even I have to admit I carried myself well.” He dipped his shoulder and leaned toward Finn. “We didn’t take down a mythical evil thing like it was nothing,” he said.

  Finn held his side without looking down. “Didn’t feel like ‘nothing.’”

  “You really met Donu?” Donal asked. “And she helped you?”

  “It wasn’t her first choice to do so,” Finn said, “and she reminded us of that several times.” He squeezed out a quick breath. “You know, as she was telling her story, I felt the oddest lock of sympathy for her.”

  “Finn MacLaughlin? Twisting himself up into his feelings?” Donal said with a mocking gasp. He pointed at the pond ahead of them. “Next you’ll tell me that the water there is now wet!”

  “Enough of that, you,” Finn said. “I’m simply telling you that there was a moment as we were walking when her face pinched in such a way that she reminded me of you. In that brief flash, she drifted to a time of hurt and she let it slip to the surface.”

  “That must have been a sight,” said a woman standing behind them.

  “Danu—I mean, An—Ana!” Finn said, spinning to his feet faster than a windmill. I didn’t mean—I just—”

  Ana raised her hand and patted the air at Finn. “S’alright, lad. I’m well aware of the mistakes both of us have made along the way. In fact, it was an apology for my part of our biggest fight that finally persuaded her to go fetch you.”

  “Where are the others?” Donal asked.

  “Still in the house, most of them,” Ana said. She pointed over the brothers’ shoulders to the lough. “Niall and Maura left to take a walk not terribly long ago.”

  “No,” Donal said, “I mean, the other Tuatha Dé and the Aos Sí? Surely it is easier to call on them than it is to risk Donu’s involvement.”

  “It would seem so, yes,” Ana said. “The sad fact of the matter is some of them can’t be stirred into action, some of them have moved along, and some have gone into hiding.” She leaned in and looked around the clearing, as if Donu sat beside her. “Between us, it’s past time for my sister to rejoin the world. That hut she has on the northern Tír fo Thuinn isn’t the idyllic life of peace she claims it to be.”

  “Did you say, ‘moved along?’” Finn asked. “To where?”

  “There’s more to this world than just the traditional lands you’ve read about,” she said, “and that’s all I will speak on the matter.”

  “What about The Morrigan and Manannán?” Finn asked. “They’ve never been shy about jumping into mortal business.”

  Ana smiled. “You could say that Manannán prefers the mortal world these days. I speak to him from time to time over there. He’s not without his uses. As for the Morrigan, she’s gone into hiding. Whether she will remain so is beyond my foresight.”

  Donal raised a finger. “So—”

  “Donal, Finn, you have many miles to go yet, and there are several people worrying about the very questions you ask me. Let them do so.”

  Finn turned his palms upward. “And we should just sit here peering into the pond?”

  She stepped toward him and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Yes, you should. Take the quiet moments with friends and family while you can get them.”

  Donal smiled. “Don’t have to tell me twice,” he said.

  A rustling sound echoed within the southern woods. The Cú Sidhe emerged from the trees, bounding towards Donal. The hound stopped three feet in front of him and dropped the mangled remnant of a tree branch.

  Finn narrowed his eyes and twisted his head. “That isn’t—”

  “—the branch from before?” Donal asked. “I believe it is. Want to give it a toss?”

  What now?

  Is Book 3 the finale?

  So, Book 3 goes live when?

  Lost in the Otherworld as early as I did. I tip my cap to those who can write on the fly. I, however was incredibly stressed finishing the final third of the book. This time, I'm going back to what I did with The Blighted Treasure: Finish it completely, then go live.