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Ciaran gripped his sword. “What are we going to do? There’s too many of them. You and I couldn’t possibly stop them alone -”

“Go, wake your father, and help him light the watch fires,” Brenna said. “We’ll handle the rest.”

“Who’s we?” Ciaran demanded.

Brenna nodded toward the shore, and then Ciaran saw them, a motley crew of men and women armed with swords, spears, shields, bows and arrows, all stripped to the waist and painted blue, bedecked with gold. Brenna shrugged off her cloak, drew her sword, and started toward the edge of the cliff.

“Go. We’ll get started.”