The House of Gaian

Chapter 18

Smiling, Adolfo watched through the bars of the locked door. The largest of the three nighthunters in the cage had been trying to figure out the simple lock on the cage door for an hour now. Its incentive was close enough to make it fiercely hungry but was still out of reach. Yes, there was a feast waiting for his creatures if they could get free of the cage: the two old witches he had drained of power in order to try this experiment—and the apprentice Inquisitor he'd used to assist him. The youth had been a good choice, an open channel for power but too weak to use it himself. Useless as an Inquisitor because of it, but he'd taken the youth because it was better to control a weak vessel than to have it controlled by someone else. Besides, even the useless had their uses—and it had quieted the doubt that had plagued him since the Gatherer had left him with a dead arm to weave the Inquisitor's Gift of persuasion around the apprentice, to chain another person so completely with nothing but that Gift flowing through his voice.

He looked at the corner of the room where the apprentice lay, staring at him with terrified, pleading eyes. While his voice had rolled over the youth, the apprentice had taken the knife Adolfo handed him and cut out his own tongue—and then opened his own belly with a deep slash of the blade. Now the apprentice lay on the floor, his face smeared with blood, a little more of his guts spilling onto the floor with every effort to move.

The witches were crawling around on the floor, sensing there was danger nearby, but unable to see it, hear it, or scream out of fear of it. No feet to walk on, no hands to guide them. They always thought they were so powerful, but they were nothing more than meat.

He heard a click, saw the cage door swing open. For a few heartbeats, the nighthunters stared at the opening. Then they spilled out, flinging themselves on the blood and fresh meat that flailed desperately to escape the sharp teeth and claws.

Adolfo watched for another minute or two before closing the wooden door over the bars and latching it.

It was a pity he had to leave the nighthunters locked in that cellar room to die, but they were too dangerous to take with him. No matter. Now that he'd mastered how to twist the magic in a specific way, he could create the nighthunters when and where he needed them.

He'd succeeded beyond his expectations—but not beyond his hopes. The successful transformation of this new host creature into a nighthunter gave him a far more terrifying, and deadly, predator than the animals in the woods. This is what he would unleash on Sylvalan as punishment for defying him, for refusing to put women in their proper place, for helping the females whose power continued to seep into the world.

He was ready. Everything was ready. Even now, the army from Arktos was marching toward the northern border of Sylvalan to join the eastern barons he'd commanded to take the roads north of the Mother's Hills, cutting off any help from the midlands. The southern barons that he controlled, along with more of the eastern barons, were doing a forced march to cut off the roads between the southern end of the Mother's Hills and the coastline. Their orders were clear, and there were enough Inquisitors going with both armies to make sure the orders were carried out. They would kill any baron who tried to stand against them. They would kill his wife, his children. They would kill the squires and magistrates, leaving the villagers and farmers with no leaders to follow. They would take whatever food and supplies they needed, then burn the fields. Starving people had little strength for defiance. They would lay waste to the enemy's lands until there were no enemies.

Ubel was already on his way with a fleet of ships packed with fighting men. A quick stop at Seahaven and Wellingsford to make sure there weren't any ships trying to hide witches among their cargo, then up the west coastline to the small harbor that was a day's hard march away from Breton.

By tomorrow night, he, the Master Inquisitor, would cross the Una River to lead the Wolfram army and the remaining eastern barons under his control straight to Willowsbrook. He wouldn't kill Baron Liam, not right away. He would take the time to soften Liam and his family. Liam's last act would be to offer himself as meat to the gifts that would be left behind to haunt his people for years to come.

The Sylvalan barons who defied him had no chance. He had the strength of Wolfram and Arktos to throw into the fight, as well as the eastern barons he controlled, while his enemies would have to splinter whatever strength they could gather in order to meet the three arms of his army as well as libel's attack in the west.

No, Adolfo thought as he left the cellar and went up to his room, the Sylvalan barons had no chance. And once they were eliminated, his armies would come together and crush the Mother's Hills, destroying the wellspring of magic forever.