When Emery at last reached the edge of the wood, when at last the fields and hills were visible beyond the dark trees, dusk had again fallen, but she felt no fear, now. She had the stag, and she had her weapon, and nothing had accosted them as they'd completed their journey through the forest. He was truly a magnificent animal, Emery realized while on his back. When she'd first met him in her backyard, he'd been out of place, out of time, and she'd not been ready to meet him. But this was where he belonged, and riding him calmly amongst the shadow and mystery of the forest, she'd felt, for the first time since arriving, a sense of belonging. How or why she knew the stag, she couldn't recall, but that didn't seem important. They were friends, somehow, and if Emery found anything at all strange about that, she didn't ponder it until long after she'd left him.

The moment the stag stepped from the forest's fringe, Emery saw Dun-Dealgan in the distance. The creature had brought her close enough that she could continue the journey on her own.

But she was not alone, for suddenly, there were shouts on either side of her, and from the left and right, soldiers on foot ran toward her. It was then that Emery noticed the torches of many more soldiers along the treeline, and their approaching lights were like fireflies descending upon her. She sat calmly as ever on the back of the white stag, no compulsion to move, until she heard a familiar voice.

"Emery!"

A man with longish black hair and pointed features was to her right, suddenly, and when she recognized Cathbad, she smiled. But he was looking at her strangely, not with any joy but in a sort of awe, maybe even a bit of terror. In the setting sunlight, she could make out his gray eyes glittering a bit wildly at her.

She might have said something, but a rider was approaching. In the dusk, she made out a huge gray stallion galloping toward them from the base of the hillfort, and she knew the beautiful animal belonged to Cullen.

"Now then," Emery said to the stag, the mens' expressions beyond their flickering torchlights making her quite uncomfortable. "I think it's time for you to go. You've helped me so much, though, so thank you."

The stag inclined its head, caught her words, and then knelt down in order for Emery to slide off his back. The soldiers and Cathbad and no doubt the approaching rider looked on with interest. Once her feet were on solid ground, Emery walked to the front of the creature, being careful not to let her spear's flame touch his antlers. She looked into the stag's eyes, thanked him sincerely, touched her forehead to his inclined head, and then watched as the animal made a roundabout and calmly walked back into the forest, his white shape visible for some while before the shadows at last swallowed him.

When the stag was no longer in sight, Emery turned and, having almost forgotten she was surrounded by people, startled a bit. Cullen was standing at the forefront of the soldiers, breathing as if he and not his horse had just run down that hill, and Cathbad was at his side. Both of them looked ridiculously out of sorts, the druid unable to stop staring at her spear, and Cullen unable to stop staring at her.

"I'm fine, all right?" Emery said at last, unsure why everyone was acting so weird. "The stag helped me find my way. I'm--what is wrong with all of you?"

Seeming at last to come to his senses, Cathbad stepped forward, stopping within several feet of her, his eyes flicking up to the spearhead and back to the girl. "Emery, you--you're all right? Entirely well?"

"Yes, of course!" she snapped, anxiety blooming in her the longer everyone stared. "It's been only a few hours! I'm sure you all know--the faeries . . . I understand the concern, but--"

"A few hours?" Cathbad caught her words. "No, Lady," he added seriously, quietly. "Nine suns have set since Lord Cuchulain returned without you."

For a moment, Emery just looked at him. Then she glanced at Cullen. His thoughts were incomprehensible, though he finally approached her, stepping around the druid, who warned him (to Emery's irritation) not to get close. Cullen didn't listen, though. He drew so near they could've hugged one another if inclined, and Emery was sure she read relief in his eyes. "Can you ride?" he asked her.

She was a little confused. "Ride what?"

Ignoring her question, Cullen reached down and took her free hand, and she let him wrap his long fingers around hers, warming at his touch. Tightening his hold on her as if to express the absolute relief he didn't know how to speak, Cullen led her past the gaping druid and through the line of soldiers, who quickly parted to allow them to pass. Then, keeping a wary eye on the spear she held, Cullen suddenly slipped his hands to her waist and, before Emery could protest or even revel in the fact that he was holding on to her, he lifted her easily onto the back of his towering horse. Taking the animal's lead, Cullen set off across the fields, leading his horse and its rider toward Dun-Dealgan.

Left in their circle of torchlight and silence, Cathbad and the other soldiers looked at one another, then followed their lord, keeping at a distance. The druid's misgivings were heavy, but he kept them to himself.

"What happened?" Emery asked from atop the horse, finding it strange to look down on Cullen as she was always looking up at him. "Has it really been nine days?"

"I tried to find you," he replied evenly, keeping his gaze ahead of him. "But I knew the aos sí were no easy foe. I needed the druid's knowledge."

"But--nine days? It's been nine days?" He didn't answer, but she thought she saw him nod in the blue light projected from her spearhead. "I was underground, with the faeries. It felt like only a few hours. They made me pick something from their caves, and then they let me go back above ground."

"And is this what you chose?" he asked, looking up finally at the spear in her right hand, which she held above the horse's head.

A fair amount of pride in her voice, Emery replied that yes, it was.

"Why did you choose this?"

"I--" She couldn't quite say, she realized. It had called to her, in a sense, but that would sound silly. "I wanted a spear, like you. I thought that, maybe . . . maybe I could start protecting myself, so you don't have to. I don't want to need you if danger comes."

Cullen said nothing immediate, leaving Emery to stew in her second-thoughts about what she'd said. But as they reached the road and the horse lumbered up a bit of a steep incline, he spoke again. "It's no ordinary spear, Emery."

She glanced up at its flame; she'd known when she'd seen it ignite that it wasn't ordinary. What metal burned like that? Continuously? But that was the way with this world. Stones shouldn't give visions, either, and mushrooms shouldn't pull one underground, and doppelgangers shouldn't lead people into woods. Was this spear any more abnormal than anything else in this place?

"Many have sought it," he continued.

Emery eyed him sideways. "Have you?"

"I have."

A thought wormed its way into Emery's mind. "Do you . . . do you want it?" It wasn't an offer; it was a question, and his answer mattered.

"Not now," he responded at length, and she was satiated. But then he added, "Nor do I think you should use it."

"Why not? It's mine, isn't it?"

Emery knew how foolish she sounded. This was a serious weapon. She had no clue how to throw a regular spear, let alone a magical one. Riding the stag through the forest, the spear in her hand, she'd felt powerful, courageous--as if somehow, she was at last in the right place. But now, with Cullen seeming to doubt her and her own growing recognition of how absurd this whole thing was, her previous discontent filled her again. In her mind, she'd left that forest looking glorious, but all they must've seen was a mad girl riding a deer like some wild woman, wielding a weapon she clearly had no ability or knowledge to use, back from a nine-day frolic with the fae folk that had left all of Dun-Dalgean in a frenzy. Emery reddened just considering their perspective. Mortification set in, and with that came petulance.

"You're just mad that I didn't need you this time. I got out of that faerie ring without help, and you're trying to tell me I can't use the gift they gave me?"

"Gift, was it? They've cursed you with it, Emery."

"Oh no--don't try to talk to me about more curses! I'm still trying to get over the first one."

Cullen stopped walking, stopped the horse, stood and looked directly up at Emery, the blue flame reflected in his green eyes, though they possessed a fire of their own, as well, and he spoke with growing force. "I care for your safety. That is all I've ever cared for!"

"Really? Is that all you care about? You never do anything for yourself? It's all been about me?"

He did not appreciate her sarcasm; his curling fists and lowering brow revealed that enough. "By the Gods, you try me, Emery! Why will you not listen to reason? This is the Spear of Lugh himself--"

"I don't care! I don't care what it is--it's mine. And you know what? Truthfully, the memory curse and the curse of this spear and whatever other curses are thrown at me--none of them are as bad as you. You're my real curse, do you hear me? You!" Unable to control her frustrated tears any longer, emotion pressing against her chest and ready to erupt, Emery dug her heels into the horse's flanks and the animal took off, its lead yanked forcefully out of Cullen's hand. The man could only stare after them in all his turmoil.

Her body's knowledge of riding, buried somewhere in her past, surfaced as Cullen's horse galloped up the road toward the gates of Dun-Dalgean. All who saw her, whether those who'd been following or those who watched from the fort towers, were mesmerized by this likeness of some goddess on horseback, riding one of the most powerful animals with unheard-of ease--an animal who'd only ever been docile toward his master--and wielding a spectral spear whose blue flame trailed behind her like a fluttering pennant as she rode. The watchmen at the gates were almost frightened to open them but, at a signal from their Lord from beyond, pulled the doors back and allowed Emery to ride through. She galloped into the open yard, swung her leg over the back of the gray stallion, and jumped to the ground. Then turning, she stepped away from the complacent horse and, to the amazement of the soldiers and villagers (and almost completely unaware of what she was doing, as all she knew was her rage), spun the spear once above her head before slamming its butt to the ground as if it were Cathbad's staff and storming away from all of them, heading toward her own roundhouse, where she hoped she'd find Tess and Oonagh.

If Emery had been less wrapped up in her emotions and more aware of her surroundings, she might have noticed all the people watching her as she moved through the hillfort. Even the animals seemed to eye her with caution. But she was too angry.

Reaching her door, Emery felt immediately more at ease; a soft light shone from around the curtain. Fortunately, she caught herself before prancing right in--the flame of her spear would no doubt light the curtain on fire, even the thatched roof if she wasn't careful. She called to the girls, and they were outside practically the moment they heard her voice, crying and laughing. After several moments of relieved questions and answers, they went inside, Tess and Oonagh holding back the curtain while Emery stepped into the roundhouse. Once inside, she brought the weapon into the center of the dwelling, as the roof rose to its highest point there, and the flame was in no danger of reaching it.

"We can't just leave it burning there all night, can we?" Tess observed as Emery propped it against the fire dog. "What if it falls over?"

At that moment, Cathbad's voice announced his presence from outside, and then he flung aside the curtain and rushed in as if his life depended on it.

Emery put her nose up. "I don't want to talk to you if you're here to yell at me or warn me. I really, really don't need any of that right now."

The druid clasped his hands together, closed his eyes momentarily, regained his composure. "Lady, I must tell you what you need to hear. Lord Cuchulain had no success in explaining the severity of--"

"Cat, please." Emery turned toward him. Tess and Oonagh shrank back a bit, afraid an argument was coming. "I understand that it's dangerous, all right? I'm not stupid. I can tell it isn't a toy. I don't intend to just start throwing it around."

"Lugh's Spear--"

"Who is Lugh, anyway?" she grumbled, crossing her arms, beginning to feel rather tired.

Cathbad, annoyed at being cut off, took a deep breath. "Emery, I do not insult your intellect, but I do question your judgment. You have been a prisoner of the aos sí, and as such, you are still touched by their bewitchment." He cast his eyes down, thought, shook his head as if to free it of concerns. "It is what I've told my Lord, in any case. Whether or not it is true, I recommend you claim it to be, as it would explain your rashness."

Emery's temper flared, but Cathbad interjected before she could say anything she'd regret.

"Lady, please! You must understand that the Spear of Lugh is no ordinary object. Just listen to me--I beg you!" He took a deep breath, again. "According to the legends, this is the weapon of the god Lugh, himself. Its flame will burn eternal for whoever wields it, lighting any and everything it touches, flaring unceasingly in battle. No one who holds it can be harmed. But if its beholder draws blood, that blood will forever flow molten from the spearhead, and any drop can boil through flesh and bone in an instant, killing even its wielder."

Listening, Emery began to understand. "So . . . I won't kill anyone or anything with it."

"You say this now, but Lugh's spear will not be content to sit idle. It will entice you to use it."

"Can't I get rid of it? Give it away?"

"You cannot. It belongs to you, now. It has claimed you as much as you've claimed it."

The girl shivered, crumbling under the weight of her own recklessness. "But I don't want it anymore. Can I destroy it?"

"To do so may destroy you. Lady, the Spear of Lugh is one of the four great treasures of the Tuatha Dé. Ownership of such items comes at great cost to the owner. My Lord Cuchulain knows this too well; Claíomh Solais, the Sword of Light--this is another of the treasures."

Sitting back against the straw pallet bench, Emery buried her face in her hands. "I'm very good at doing stupid things, aren't I?"

"No," Tess responded, encouraged by the argument's apparent defusing. "You didn't know, Emery. We'll figure it out together, like we have everything."

Suddenly recalling something, Emery looked up at Tess. "The soldiers, the ones that let us sneak out the night of Samhain. Were they--did he . . ." she cringed, " . . . execute them?"

Oonagh crouched before her friends. "Warned, demoted some, but all kept their heads. It was very unlike him; we were taken aback."

So he'd listened to her, Emery thought. That, at least, was something.