Eoghan, Dolan, and the other men from Ciaran’s village formed a ragged band along the shoreline, armed with farming implements and torches, flimsy shields. Some of them called out greetings, but when Deagan’s troops came closer, their camaraderie faded.
“This isn’t your battle,” Eoghan said, didn’t look at Ciaran.
“This land is our home,” Deagan said, “and we will defend it.”
“We don’t need your help.” Eoghan hefted his peat cutter.
“We’re not here to help you,” Deagan said. “Fan out!”
Ciaran lifted his voice in the answering cry of, “Yes sir!” and marched to join his brothers-in-arms.
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