Catlin awoke to the sound of shouting. She jumped up and grabbed her sword, heading out the door. The noise was coming from Conor's quarters. She rushed in. He was having another nightmare, thrashing about in his bed and dripping with sweat. She rushed to his side and gently stroked his hair.

"Conor, wake up. Conor..."

She wasn't getting through to him. She spoke louder, "Conor-"

He bolted upright and grabbed her wrists. A dazed look played across his face. His eyes seemed hollow, tortured, somehow. Several short, shallow gasps escaped his throat.

"Conor?" Catlin worriedly questioned.

He let go of her wrists. His grip on them left red marks.

"Conor, I'll be right back. I'm going to get the healer."

"No..." he breathed closing his eyes. "I'm fine."

"What is happening to you?" she questioned, her eyes filling with tears. "Conor you're scaring me. Please tell me..."

"Cat, it's nothing..." he looked away.

"Conor-"

"It's got nothing to do with you."

His voice was cold. He didn't even look her in the eyes.

"I... I was just worried, that's all," she managed.

"You have no need to be," he said quietly. "Please, just leave."

Tears spilled down her cheeks. She got up from his side and ran out of the room.


Fergus stood at the entrance to the Sanctuary and gazed at the night sky. It was going to be a cold winter, by the look of it. He stretched and looked towards where the night guards were keeping their watch. They nodded respectfully to the leader. Leader. It was hard for him to accept this new, albeit temporary role. Diplomacy had never been his strong suit. Yet with Conor gone, he had to be the one to make decisions. The warrior much preferred settling things with a blade, not with discussion. In battle things were so much clearer.

Now, he was responsible for the lives of everyone in the Sanctuary. Their numbers had grown larger in the year since they had lived there. With numbers, there came more disputes. People from many tribes had sought refuge here. Each with their own traditions and customs. Sometimes, it made it difficult to live side by side. Yet, there was still one thing that had united them all. Each person had been driven out of their home by the Romans. Each person had suffered loss at the hands of the invaders. Even when they seemed to be at odds with each other, in the end, they all knew who the real enemy was.

He walked back towards the center of the village. He found Aiobhell sitting outside her hut near a small fire. She was quietly whispering ancient words. Fergus stood at a distance as to not disturb the girl. She was a tough one to figure out. While he now felt certain they had nothing to fear from her, his curiosity was still not appeased. What had driven her from her land, so far from here? The girl's eyes always had a sadness to them. He knew that look. It was the look he had seen on Conor's face when Conor had found him in the smoldering ruins of his father's keep. It was the look that Catlin's eyes had mirrored when she thought of her sister. It was the look Tully's eyes bore when he recounted what little he still remembered of his family. It was the look of everyone who lived in the Sanctuary. They all had suffered such terrible loss.

He cleared his throat deliberately.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he began.

"No, not at all," she smiled at him. "Come, sit down," she patted the ground next to her.

Fergus walked over and took a seat next to her.

"You're up awfully early," he nodded at her.

"So are you," she laughed quietly.

"Aye," he smiled.

For awhile, neither spoke, just sat in the stillness of the early morning.


Catlin sat on a log on the outskirts of the walled village. Tears rolled down her cheeks in steady streams and short sobs shuddered from her gut. She never cried like this, but she couldn't help it. In the year that she had known Conor, she had never seen him like this. His voice had been so cold. He had put up a barrier between them. He had shut her out.

She knew that he wasn't in love with her. She could accept that. But now, now everything was different. Their friendship, which Catlin had always relied on and cherished, lay in shambles and she didn't know why.

"Catlin?"

It was Ian. He had walked up behind her.

"Are you alright?"

There was worry in his voice. He quickly walked around to face her and knelt down directly in front of her. He took her hands in his.

"It can't be as terrible as all that..." he said softly.

His hands went to her face and he gently brushed the tears away from her cheeks.

"I'm fine," she sniffed, trying to smile.

"Liar," he smiled. "Now, do you want to talk about it?"

He moved over to the log and sat down next to her.

"Not really," she said, wiping the remaining tears from her face.

"Sure, sure." He again took her hands in his. "Catlin, I'm sorry about last night."

"Oh, no... There's no need. I just wasn't expecting..."

He smiled, encouraged by the admission.

"I did have a lovely evening... and my marksmanship has improved!" he laughed.

A broad smile spread across her face.

"I'm glad I could help."

He studied her face for several moments. Catlin felt slightly ill at ease with the stare. Blushing slightly, she looked away from the inquiring emerald gaze.

"I should go back..." she said as she got up.

"Let me walk with you," he stood up quickly and offered his arm.

She took his arm and he led her back to the center of the stead. In the quiet early morning, none of the villagers were awake. They walked in silence. From time to time he would look at her and smile.

When they reached her quarters, he stopped and leaned casually against the wall of the little hut.

"He's a damn fool," Ian said softly looking at her intently.

"Oh, it's not that... I mean it's not..." she stammered.

"Just tell me to shut up and mind my own business," he said looking down disappointedly.

She kissed him on the cheek and went inside quickly.


Longinus stared at the door. He waited patiently. After all, he had nothing but time. The door eventually opened and Diana made her entrance.

"Longinus," she said in honeyed tones.

"I sent for you two hours ago, Diana."

He walked over to where she was standing. She turned her back on him.

"Yes, you did. But you didn't say 'please,'" she said simply, running her fingers through her hair.

He stepped up behind her and kissed her neck.

"Very well, then. Please..." Longinus whispered into her ear.

"That's better," she said turning to face him.

Diana draped her arms around his shoulders.

"Now, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?" she smiled.

"I have to say, Diana. I find your new willingness to comply with my wishes a little... puzzling."

The centurion stroked her back. Why did he still find her so desirable?

"Well, my love. We both want the same thing. It just seems easier... and... more enjoyable... if we work together," she purred seductively.


Aisling walked into Catlin's chamber. The archer was sitting on her bed. Her arms were crossed on her lap and she was staring off at nothing in particular.

"Catlin, will you be joining us for our morning meal?" she asked smiling.

"No... I... I didn't sleep well last night. I'm going to try to get a little rest."

The dark haired woman walked over to Catlin's bed and sat down, facing her.

"Are you alright?" her eyes were full of concern for her new friend.

"Yes, I'm fine. It's just been a long journey," Catlin forced herself to smile.

"I think you should come to the meal," Aisling looked down and blushed slightly. "My brother fancies you, I think," she said in a conspiratory whisper.

"Your brother is a kind host," Catlin said quietly. "Send my greetings."

"Maybe later I could show you around our village?" Aisling offered, standing up.

"That would be nice," Catlin said sincerely.


Tully sat in the familiar tree. This morning his thoughts wandered, as they often had these past few days, to Aiobhell. He sat pondering when he heard the rustle of leaves beneath him. Aiobhell slipped into his view. She paced back and forth nervously. Tully was about to call out her name and reveal himself, but something warned him not to. It was obvious she was waiting for someone, he just needed to see who it was.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the leaves part in the near distance. Through the shimmering leaves he could just make out the top of a helmet. A Roman patrol. In disbelief he stared down at Aiobhell. She couldn't be a spy. He refused to believe it. Before he knew what he was doing he was at the foot of the tree grabbing her arm.

"Tully!" she gasped in surprise.

"Aiobhell, Romans are coming!" he whispered urgently, pulling her back towards the Sanctuary. As they retreated to safety, her head kept turning towards the woods, as if she was still waiting for someone.


Conor splashed cool water on his face. Droplets clung to his eyelashes, obscuring his vision. He closed his eyes and again dowsed his face. Rivulets ran down his neck and chest. He wished he could rinse away the pain and jealousy that ached his heart as well. The grim reality of the situation hung over every minute: Catlin was going to die. Somehow. Soon. And by Longinus' hand.

Instead of keeping her close, he had pushed her away. It was seeing her with Ian last night. The sight of her laughing in his arms... But there was nothing he could do to change what could not be changed. It had all started out as an untruth. For Catlin's own safety, she needed to continue to believe that it was Claire in his dreams.

Rising he walked over to a small cluster of standing stones by the stream. Hundreds of years before, Ian's ancestors had carved ancient spirals into the soft stone. Years of wind and rain had made them barely visible. Conor's finger traced a pattern. It had no beginning and no end. It simply was.

"I wish I knew what to do," he said quietly. "I don't know how to prepare for this attack when I don't know where it will come from." In his heart he called to his ancestors and to the ancient ones who had created the land. He begged them for help.

In the early morning light, someone heard Conor's request.


Fergus' eyebrow arched suspiciously.

"You think she was waiting for the Romans?" he questioned the young magician.

"I don't know Fergus... I mean, there they were... they were so close to finding the Sanctuary..." Tully said with definite worry. "But I just can't believe it was her. She can't be a traitor."

The big man stood facing the younger. He placed a strong hand upon the youth's shoulder.

"I don't believe it either. There's got to be some other explanation," Fergus agreed.


"Ian is ready to meet with you now." The voice belonged to the rough man with the scar on his face, Colin.

"Thank you," Conor said nodding his head. As he made his way past Colin, the man caught his arm. The brute leaned in and spoke in a gravelly soft voice.

"You make sure that wanton girl of yours stays clear of Ian. He does not need that kind of distraction. The Council does not approve, and you do not want to upset them."

"Are you threatening me?" Conor said with a defiant stare.

"Let's just call it a warning..." he growled as he walked away.


"Aiobhell? Are you in there?" Tully called out softly. He could hear stifled sobs emerging from her room.

He entered the little chamber without waiting for an answer. He found her sitting on her bed, her face buried in her hands.

"Aiobhell?" he asked again.

Red tear-stained eyes peered at him as she moved her hands from her face.

"Oh Tully," she said softly. "There is just so much sorrow..." The voice was that of someone older. A parent, a grandparent. A wise woman speaking of her children and the painful mistakes they would make. It was the voice of an ancestor.

He stood dumbfounded. She held her hand out to him. He took it and sat beside her in silence.

"What is it?" Concern pooled in his brown eyes as he finally managed to speak.

A sad smile played across her lips. "Everyone here... what they've lost... what they might loose..."

"What you've lost," Tully finished.

"Yes, but it's more than that." She turned toward him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Tully, tell me about your family."

"You know my family. Fergus, Conor, Catlin. I've told you about them."

"No," she said in a voice nearly a whisper. "I mean your mother and father. Your brothers and sisters."

The young man's face changed into an indeterminate expression. His eyes turned stony and his jaw set.

"I don't remember much," he said, not daring to look into her eyes. "I remember being small. My mother used to sing me songs. I don't really remember them... I remember playing with my older brother and my little sister. I remember the beautiful trees that lined our village."

"Happy memories all," she smiled.

His eyes darkened as he continued. "I remember the ship. I remember mother being sick. I remember the storm... I remember the cold water... I remember death. I remember seeing my little sister's body floating in the water," his voice began to crack. "And then there was a hand pulling me up into a boat." A tear journeyed down his cheek. "It was Galen."

"He saved you."

"Yes, he did. I was terrified. His skin was so pale, and I didn't understand his language. But I remember knowing that he was good, that he saved me." A smile replaced the pain on his face.

"And slowly he became like a father to you."

"Yes, he did..."

Tully sat silently for a moment, then summoned his courage.

"Aiobhell, what were you doing outside the Sanctuary this morning?"

The girl looked down at the earth. Her face was hidden from Tully's gaze by a cascade of her hair.

"I was just there to find some peace..." she whispered.

"But the Romans..." Tully couldn't stop his hesitant voice from sounding the accusation.

Aiobhell turned her head towards him. Her brow wrinkled and her eyes filled with fresh tears.

"I'm not a traitor... I would never do anything to jeopardize your safety," her voice pleaded.

"I know... but the soldiers-" he tried to explain.

Aiobhell stood up and walked away from Tully. She ran her hand through her tangled hair.

"Tully, I would never hurt you or Fergus. I would never betray you. You have to know that," her voice was low and she did not face him. "If you think that I'm endangering the Sanctuary or Conor and Catlin's position with Ian's tribe, then please just tell me." She turned again to face him. "Tell me and I'll go."

"Aiobhell, I..." But he didn't know what to say. Slowly, Tully stood and walked towards the cloth flaps covering the entrance to the little room. He turned back to face her just as he was leaving. A small smile lit his face.

She returned the smile, with a slight melancholy look in her eyes.

"I'll see you at supper," he spoke softly.

She said nothing, just nodded her head yes.


Ian sat at the stone table across from Conor.

"I trust you slept well?" he asked his guest hospitably.

"Yes. Thank you for your generosity..." Conor replied. He forced himself to continue with what he really wanted to ask. "Was your evening successful?"

"Do you mean did I choose a bride?" Ian chuckled. "No... I'm not about to let them rush me into that."

Silence followed. It was obvious there were more pressing things on Ian's mind. The dark-haired leader stood up and walked back to the entry of the small room. He leaned up against the clay wall, his back to his guest.

"It's an ugly business, this," he said dejectedly.

"What is?" Conor asked.

"Alliances, Romans, all of it." Ian turned on his heel and walked back to the table. "I never wanted to be the leader... But those Roman bastards killed my father." The pain in his voice was evident.

"I didn't want to lead either... They killed my family too." Conor stood up and clasped Ian on the shoulder. "But if we unite together, we can drive them off the island. We can take back what they've stolen from us."

"I want to believe you. I want to join the Confederation. But my people are not warriors, Conor. They are farmers."

"I know it's much to risk... but believe me, the Romans won't let your people farm in peace," he paused briefly. When he spoke again, there was a resigned sorrow in his voice. "There is a Roman named Longinus. He is evil. He will enslave your people." Conor looked Ian in the eye. "Trust me, Ian... Our fathers were allies. If you join the Confederation we are one step closer to ridding ourselves of the Romans forever."

Ian sighed heavily. "You'll need to bring this before our Council. They convene in six days."

"Thank you, Ian. You won't regret this."