Opening her eyes, Bee was surprised to see the fire was still burning brightly. She must have slept no more than a few moments. Everything she dreamed was as evident in her mind as if she’d lived rather than dreamed it. In truth, this wasn’t the first time her dreams had appeared so real. Usually when it happened, she’d something on her mind. One question troubling her this time was why she would dream of The Three. What could possibly have prompted it?

  Shaking her head, Bee looked at the two bedrolls to find Dornálaí regarding her with a smirk.

  “Not much of a sentry, are you?” he asked.

  “Why d’ye say that?”

  “Because it is difficult to keep watch when you are asleep.”

  Listen to the ringfighter.

  “I closed me eyes for a moment, so I did.”

  “Really. If you say so.”

  I do say so. And another thing I say is, who are ye? Ye’re not who or what ye seem.

  “I was thinking about the Gap,” he said, sitting up and wrapping his blanket around his shoulders.

  “Ye were?”

  Listen to the ringfighter.

  “I was…” He hesitated. “I am sure the way is closed. I just made it through.”

  “And yet, ye said nothing.”

  Shrugging, he said, “I did not think you would believe me. Especially when you think there is no choice. But there is another way. It is a way that might give us an advantage over your brother, too.”

  “I thought I knew these lands, Ringfighter, and here ye are, telling me I don’t.”

  “Something I learned when I was young was that we never know as much as we think. Take me, now; I traveled these Five Kingdoms all my life, and always I learn something new with each passing day.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I am not sure,” he said, smirking again. “Perhaps it means that sometimes we need to believe what others tell us. Sometimes, we need to listen.”

  Bee nodded briefly but said nothing. She still had very little idea about who this man was. She was no longer sure he and Finn were working together because he was beginning to appear much too complex for the tracker.

  Ye must take care, Bee; just because one arrow in the quiver is sharper than the rest doesn’t mean they came from a different fletcher.

  “So, ye have me ears. Tell me, Ringfighter.”

  “The Western Wall runs from north to south with no break in it, bar The Gap. This is common knowledge. However, what is not common knowledge is that down south, there are passageways under the Fiery Mountain—”

  “Ye’re jesting,” Bee interrupted. “The tunnels that the molten fire created are known to be a warren. All who enter there die lost or burned. That’s also common knowledge, Ringfighter.”

  “Ah, but not if you know the way.”

  “And ye do, I suppose.”

  “Yes. I do.”

  “How?” Bee asked, becoming more sure by the instant that this Dornálaí was not just a battered old fighter if he even was what he’d claimed.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “I have been living in these lands for a long time. You’d be surprised, I reckon,” Dornálaí said with an impeccable imitation of the tracker’s voice.

  Listen to the ringfighter. Was it a dream? I think not.

  “Hmm. Ye said we’d get an advantage over Bren…”

  “Your brother rode through The Gap before they closed it. He is going the long way around. With an underground shortcut, we will beat him to Breshlech Mór. Well, with a little luck.”

  Bee rubbed her face with her palms. She suddenly felt exhausted, undoubtedly because of her curtailed recovery but also because she was afraid someone was manipulating her. The smirk on the brute’s battered chops did nothing to ease that fear.

  Listen to the ringfighter, my butt cheeks.

  “What’s yer connection to the Trí Dée Dána?”

  “Why do you think there is a connection?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

  “Never mind. In the morning, we’ll go south, so we will.”

  Dornálaí nodded and said, “I will take the watch. I think you need some sleep.”

  ***

  When they broke the news to Finn the following day, he said nothing. Bee could tell he was less than happy with the decision because he was downcast as they turned their mounts away from the road and headed south to enter the South Forest on a narrow, southwest road towards the Western Wall.

  One’s as bad as the other, she thought, as they entered the cover of the forest, Dornálaí leading. As she’d been unsure of the brute’s motives and allegiance, so she was of Finn’s. What had he been doing in the Five Kingdoms before she arrived? And why was he not waiting for her at the gate? The ferryman said he’d been on the boat twice in the last three days, so maybe he had been searching for Bren.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “Sorry, didn’t catch that,” Finn said. Bee shook her head, saying nothing; her mind caught up with the puzzle everything had become.

  As they rode south, Bee cursed herself for not having asked The Three about the supposed weapon Dornálaí told them about. The Silversmith said Brenós had information but didn’t mention any weapon. Could information be considered a weapon? She assumed it depended on who possessed it and what exactly it was.

  “You’re deep in thought,” Finn said.

  Listen to the ringfighter. But who says The Three are on the side of right?

  “Aye,” she said, realizing that they, too, might be manipulating her. “I’m exhausted, so I am.”

  Leaning close and whispering so the brute riding to the front couldn’t hear, Finn said, “Do you think it wise to trust him?”

  “Don’t ye?”

  Glaring at the ringfighter’s back, Finn shook his head vehemently. “Summat very odd about him, I reckon.”

  Finn sounded so much like Dornálaí’s impersonation of him that Bee had to suppress a grin.

  “Aye, it’s almost like he’s been sent by someone—or something,” she whispered conspiratorially.

  “What d’you mean something?”

  “I don’t know, Finn. There’s something off, as ye rightly said.”

  They didn’t talk much during the rest of the ride. Watching Finn throughout the day, Bee noticed he became increasingly agitated the closer they got to the Western Wall. She guessed he’d heard of the tunnels and what happened to those who entered them. The intrepid had been searching for a way through for millennia. The brute’s claim was the first she’d heard that someone had found one. Their silence continued during the night when they camped in a dingle just off the road. They only spoke when necessity dictated the need.

  The night on their second day's ride was closing in when Dornálaí drew rein and dismounted in a clearing covered with wildflowers. Bee could see the mountains through the gap in the forest canopy and felt her heart leap.

  Am I doing the right thing?

  “We lead the horses from here,” he said.

  Dismounting, Finn dropped his reins and ran to stand before Bee as she climbed off her horse. “You can’t do this,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Lead us into those caves. It’ll be our death, I reckon.”

  Is he right, or is something else happening?

  Bee wasn’t sure the caves were the way to go but could not think of anything else. She rubbed her face vigorously. When she stopped, she saw the ringfighter over Finn’s shoulder, but it wasn’t Dornálaí, only an approximation of him. The same barreled chest and massive arms, the same rugged features. However, with this new ringfighter, his ears no longer resembled flowers but were elongated. He looked familiar, but she couldn’t think how. He held a massive hammer in his hand, which he swung in an arc until it contacted the top of Finn’s head with a sickening crack. Bee watched as the tracker’s feathered cap slipped sideways, and his eyes turned up, displaying nothing but the whites. His knees buckled. Bee knew he was dead before he hit the grass of the pretty little clearing.

  So, Bheara’s premonition remains unfailing.