Not even caring where the door led, Emery pulled Deirdre from the bed and hurried through it. The passage was dark, but it was level; there weren't stairs or inclines. Emery just used her hands to feel along the sides and in front of her, and she used the light from the room behind them to guide her the first twenty feet or so. However, the minute Charlie followed them into the passage, the doorway sealed itself, and they were left in pitch darkness. "How is this physically possible?" Emery said aloud, continuing through the black. "There can't actually be a passage like this in this building.

"Where are we going?" came Deirdre's tremulous voice from behind.

"I don't know, but it has to lead somewhere, right?" The moment she said it, Emery had a terrifying notion that it might not. Wherever they were, they were hidden, right? Maybe her dark magic had just sealed them into a pocket that existed nowhere. But would that be a way out? Would that be quite what she'd asked for? Trying to shove her uncertainty aside, she walked on, figuring she'd move until she couldn't anymore, and then they'd worry after that. Fortunately for all of them, though, after several anxious moments in the dark, Emery came to the end of the passage, which, when she pushed it, gave way immediately.

Having expected something a little more solid, Emery literally fell through the thick fabric curtain into an open roundhouse. From her position on the earthen floor, she saw around her large trunks, the bottoms of heavy shields, and a variety of smaller casques and bins, and when she managed to get to her feet, Emery realized that they were literally surrounded by hanging and shelved and free-standing and barrelled weapons. Spears and swords, staff slings and axes, long bows and arrows, daggers and dirks and knives galore--every sort of ancient weapon one could imagine was probably somewhere in that giant space. The roundhouse itself was much like the one she'd met King Conchobar in upon arriving--the one with all the heads in it. That told her that this was likely the weapons roundhouse, Téite Brec.

Deirdre had come through the curtain and gasped. Emery turned to her and saw her sister's eyes widen as she looked at the massive amount of gear displayed throughout the absolutely huge space. In addition to weapons were breastplates of gleaming metal scales or engraved patterns, helmets with wings and horns, chain mail that glittered in the torchlight, and many other things neither girl could identify. And there were shields, so big and heavy only a huge man or woman could lift them; each was carved and bejeweled in intricate swirls and colors and animal patterns, their artwork too beautiful to mar in combat. This was the battle gear of the Red Branch and the Ulstermen, or, at least, whatever they didn't keep in their own homes. Emery knew that Cullen's own house had all sorts of weapons in it, including his and her mythical spears.

"Let's get swords and things! Maybe we can fight for Naoise!" cried Deirdre naïvely.

Emery caught old-woman-Charlie's eye and thought she saw mockery in it. Turning to her sister, Emery said quietly, "Hold on. I don't think anyone is in here. I can't hear or see any people, but I bet there are guards around outside."

"We can kill the guards!"

"And then what, Deirdre? Even if we could kill a couple of guards, there are probably a hundred more. Emery tried to think, but her head had begun to ache. She sat on a closed trunk and put her forehead in her hands, pressed hard. "Charlie," she said, sitting up. "Can you go get Cat?"

Deirdre was confused, but Emery ignored her questions and focused on the old woman, who suddenly morphed into Charlie. "Why should I?"

Emery sighed in total exasperation. "I know you don't care about helping, but you and I need help too, you know. Not just Deirdre."

"I'll just take us out of here, then. We don't need to stay."

"We can't go, now. I need to help my sis--Deirdre. I can't leave her."

Charlie sucked his teeth. "Fine, then. This whole thing is about to get super bloody, anyhow; I'm looking forward to it."

Deirdre, who'd been standing there staring at Charlie as if looking at a ghost, suddenly panicked. "What do you mean it's going to get bloody? Are they going to fight? Emery, please! I can't leave him! I have to help him. I can't live without him! What are we going to do? I have to go to him!"

"Oh stop!" Emery groaned. Her head was pounding. "I can't--I just need you to be quiet--"

Charlie crouched at her side. "Are you all right?"

"No. I'm not," she snarled back. "My head . . ."

"I'll get you out of here--"

"No! Just go get Cat!" She lowered her head and moaned; yelling had hurt.

Charlie froze, nostrils flaring. "All right," he told Emery. "I'll go get your druid, but it's going to hurt you." Charlie shot an ice-cold look at Deirdre, who was standing there like a lost puppy. "Stay here," he ordered. "She's about to need you. Do not let her leave this building, do you hear me?" Then he cupped Emery's chin in one hand and, though her eyes were closed against the ache in her forehead, he put his lips at her ear and whispered, "I'll be right back; you can bear it." Then he morphed back into his old woman and disappeared.

Within seconds, Emery began to feel that horrible prickling beneath her skin, and it quickly turned into stinging, unbearable burning. Almost forgetting the headache, Emery fell to her hands and knees, tried to grope her way toward the door, motivated only by blind pain. Deirdre obstructed her as best she could, but the girl was smaller than Emery, who was driven by a primal need to escape her torment. Emery tried to get past her sister, clawed at her, practically sobbing--she hurt too badly to scream--and Deirdre wouldn't have been able to keep her back had not the entire thing lasted no longer than a minute; the second disguised Charlie stood by her once more, helping her up, the searing beneath her flesh was gone.

"Deirdre!" Tess cried, throwing her arms around the girl. Both she and Cathbad had reappeared with old-woman-Charlie.

The druid was surprised. "How? What is--?"

"There's no time!" panted Emery, her headache returning in its ferocity. "Cat, take Deirdre somewhere far away. Please. As far away from here as possible."

"Lady," Cathbad said with some degree of shame, "I cannot take her far. Tess has surely told you of our troubles back home; much of my ability dwindles. I have been cut off from my sources of wisdom, within the forest. I could not get Deirdre farther than just past the gates."

"Fine! Then do that!"

"If you take me outside of the gates, I will come right back in!" Deirdre suddenly cried. "I refuse to leave Naoise. I will stay with him and die with him if I have to."

Emery could hardly comprehend what she was hearing. She felt too faint to stay on her feet and began to sit back down, hoping something was there for her to rest on, but instead, the roundhouse began to spin, and she fell to the ground.

"Emery!" Tess's voice rang out. "Charlie, do something! What's wrong with her?"

Then there were noises Emery couldn't quite place--Cathbad giving some sort of shocked utterance and Deirdre beginning to cry and Tess using an authoritative voice. But the words all blurred, and though Emery was desperate to pull herself together to face everything that needed facing, she could only allow herself to be consumed by the shadows creeping at her from the sides of her dimming vision.

There were stars above her, swirling in an iridescent black sky, and in her peripheral vision were stone pillars aglow with deep grooves. This place was familiar--the temple--though her angle was different, now. She wasn't standing and looking into it; she was lying in the center of it, staring up at the cosmos beyond. Emery tried to move but couldn't, not in this dream, this time. Her hands were across her chest, and her legs were straight, almost as if she were lying in a coffin, and just as she became aware of the eeriness of that, of the still silence, a figure appeared above, standing over her.

It was Bres, and she realized she was on an altar.

He sneered down at her in his dark beauty, shining white-blond hair like cornsilk across his shoulders, eyes translucent in his chiseled face. Even her dream self was terribly uncomfortable at whatever was in that gaze. He lifted his hand and reached toward her, and she saw it was entirely coated in dark red, almost black liquid. Emery desperately wanted to lift her arms and push him away, but she was immobile, and Bres put three fingers on her forehead and his thumb and little finger on either of her cheeks, then pressed and wiped the liquid from his hand onto her eyes and nose and mouth, down her neck, saying, "Mine and yours."

Emery wanted to gag, to yell at him, to shove him away, to do something! but she was frozen. He could've done anything to her in that dream, even killed her, and she wouldn't have been able to stop him. But he didn't seem to want to hurt her, now or in her previous dream, which might've been more confusing than if he had.

Bringing his face toward hers, Bres hovered so close she felt his breath, and he murmured, "We're waiting for you . . ."

Everything began to undulate--the frigid face before her, the temple stones, the aurora beyond. It turned to static, images of her dark meadow flashing around her, black and blue and pale green flowers, bare trees reaching for a swiftly shifting sky. Bres was gone, and the temple was gone, and she stood in that meadow, now, tiny blueish lights blinking around her, and in the distance, far, far away, something moved toward her, something small and shimmering and white. Closer it came, and closer . . .

She woke, gasping. Her head still ached, though it had dulled, and her body was hot. Emery couldn't sit up enough to see exactly where she was, but it seemed to be a cave, though it appeared to have been inhabited at least at one time, for strange rudimentary paintings were scattered across the walls. A fire was going, and beneath her was a soft pallet.

"I tried to ease your headache," Charlie suddenly said, alerting her to his presence, "but it was Bres again, wasn't it?"

"What?" Emery was so discombobulated. "Yes--but--where are we?"

"Don't sit up; you'll overexert yourself." He moved over so that she saw him when she turned her head. He was himself, curls hovering around his prepossessing face. "I think I understand, now," he went on. "You've been sick and seen him each time you used the Darkness. He knows when you use it. It's almost like he's checking in on you or something."

Emery closed her eyes, focused on breathing for a moment, let his words sink in, then said, "I thought the magic was the only good thing to come from this, but if it makes me sick, what's the point?"

"Pain is the price of everything."

She turned away from him, angry and depressed, not wanting him to see the tears forming in her eyes. "Why did you let them do this to me? I'm losing my mind."

Charlie said nothing. He just sat where he was and watched her, his eyes void of anything readable.

Emery lay there feeling sorry for herself, hating Charlie and the monsters that had hurt her, angry at everyone for everything, her body achy. The sounds of the small fire nearby crackled pleasantly. Maybe she could go back to sleep if she tried; hopefully there wouldn't be more dreams. But just as she began to lower her lids, she remembered everything and bolted upright, startling Charlie.

"Deirdre! What--what did you do? I need--what's happening?" She got unsteadily to her feet, wavered a little, looked for an obvious exit.

Charlie jumped up. "Stop! You're not well." He grabbed her arm but, in spite of her weakness, she wrenched out of his grip.

"How long have we been here?" she panted in as much anger as illness. "Where are we?" He hesitated to reply. "Answer me!" she yelled.

"Fine! Just--just calm down. You have no energy right now. I need you to calm down. It's only been about half an hour, all right? You fainted. I had to get you out of there." His look of concern shifted into one of self-satisfaction. "If anything happens to you, it's my neck. You are my priority. I don't give a damn about any of those other people."

Infuriated, Emery tried to control herself. She was shivering all over. "Take me back, now."

Charlie rolled his eyes, smirked. "I don't think so, Em," he replied.

"Take me back!"

"Or what?" He waited for her response, but Emery could only stand and tremble in her anger. Softening the corners of his hard grin, his eyes, Charlie added, "Lie down and rest, and I'll give you another memory."

"I don't want a memory," she replied sullenly.

He stepped toward her. "Yes, you do. There's no reason to lie about it."

"I hate you so much."

Charlie tipped his head a little to one side, smiled almost teasingly. He lifted a hand and brushed some of her hair back from her forehead. "I know. But I can't risk you getting hurt, not now. I've invested too much."

Emery's breath caught as she tried to hold back her emotion. She was burning up, even though she had no idea where her cloak was and wore only her gray tunic and black leggings. She was disheveled and sweaty and nauseated, but she wasn't going to sit back down and let him assuage her, placate her with memories (as much as she did want them). As he began to draw his hand back, Emery caught it, suddenly, and mustering all the ire and frustration she could, said more to herself than to Charlie, "You will take me back, now."

The startled look in his navy eyes, the white glow that began to simmer deep within them, was enough to bring Emery intense satisfaction, but even better, wherever they were, the place dimmed, and within seconds, the two of them stood in Téite Brec, and she felt quite a bit better.

"Emery!" Charlie gaped. "How'd--you're sick!"

As much as Emery would've liked to gloat, she knew it was only a matter of time before her headache returned, and one glance around the weapons barracks told her something had happened. The place was a mess--what had once been an orderly display of warrior gear was now in disarray, bins and trunks dumped, displays pulled down, all manner of things scattered across the floor. No people were in sight.

Heart pounding, Emery pulled her dagger from its sheath. "Stay by me, Charlie," she ordered, and rather than argue, he actually listened to her.

Emery slipped out of Téite Brec, expecting to encounter armed guards, but there were only still bodies on the ground. That terrified her more than live guards would have, and yet she was grateful for the lack of hindrance. Several quick steps brought her to the door of Cróeb Ruad which was also inauspiciously unguarded. Emery almost lacked the courage to enter, and when she did push her way through the curtain, she immediately wished she hadn't.