The House of Gaian

Chapter 47

Ashk stepped out of Liam's house, annoyed with herself because she'd slept past first light. As Aiden had pointed out, the sun was barely up, but she couldn't shake the dream she'd had last night that she'd tried to catch something fragile and it had slipped through her fingers and shattered all around her, couldn't shake the feeling that this small delay would make a difference . . . somehow.

"Ashk?"

She turned to look at Selena and almost smiled. The Huntress was dressed in soft gray trousers and a short-sleeved tunic. The tunic had been done up hastily, revealing the white camisole she wore beneath it. Not practical garb for a hunt, since the light color would make her too visible in the woods. But. . .

Shadow hound colors, Ashk thought suddenly, studying the gray clothing and the black hair carelessly tied back with a ribbon. And the dark and light of the moon. Perhaps the Huntress was right after all in her choice of garb, since she would usually partake in a very different kind of hunt.

Then something shivered through her. She turned away from the house and walked toward the grass and trees that formed a park on one side of the house.

"Ashk?" Selena said again.

She raised her hand to acknowledge that she'd heard and kept walking until she reached a big shade tree. She paused there and rested her palm against the tree. Now that she was away from human things and human noises, her senses sharpened, her gift flooded her with messages.

Something wrong nearby. Something unnatural. Something that doesn't belong in the woods.

She swore silently. She'd hoped they'd cleared out all the nighthunters when they'd found that nest, but there were more of them out there. But this shiver beneath the land's skin hadn't been there since they'd cleaned out the nest. Had the Black Coats marching toward them created more of the creatures and managed to capture and transport them somewhere close by? Was that what Aiden had heard in the field last night? From the information she'd gotten from the Inquisitors who had been captured at Bretonwood, the magic they drew from an Old Place and twisted struck randomly when it was released, and its manifestation could range from a good well suddenly going dry to small creatures in the woods being changed into nighthunters. They simply unleashed that magic with no way to control it. But what if one of them had learned to contain that power while twisting it so that it flooded a particular place?

A hint of sound made her look up just as something small and black floated down from the branches above her head. She caught the feather, then studied the crow that was preening itself while watching her. Just a crow. And yet. . .

She watched the crows drift across the small clearing. One took flight, flying so low she could have reached up and touched it. Then another followed. Then a handful. Finally the rest of the rook flew over the clearing to the trees on the other side.

"Seeing them reminds me of something I've wondered about," she said.

Morag's attention remained focused on the crows. Eventually she relaxed and looked at Ashk. "What have you wondered about?"

"All the Fae who are Death's Servants are crows or ravens in their other form. They aren't the only Fae who have that form, but I don't recall one of Death's Servants who wasn't one or the other. Why is that?"

Morag looked at her a long time before saying softly, "Perhaps it's because crows and ravens are Death's servants, too."

Ashk dropped the feather, turned on her heel, and hurried over to where the others waited with the saddled horses. Too many others. This wasn't some gentry hunt where they chased a fox over the fields for exercise and amusement. What she was hunting this morning could kill them. Of course, what was coming toward them could kill them all just as swiftly.

As she reached them, Varden was speaking: "—mentioned hearing something moving near the brook, but nothing came near the grave. One man thought he saw something. From the size of it and how it moved, he figured it was one of the Small Folk. They haven't approached any of the men guarding the grave, but we've seen them a couple of times at dusk or right before dawn. I guess they're keeping their own watch."

When Liam noticed her, he stiffened, obviously braced for an argument. "I'm coming with you. My land, my people. If something is out there, I'm not sitting back and letting someone else protect what's mine."

"You have another task," Ashk said brusquely. "We need to move up companies of men to guard the road into the village. The villagers and the barons will listen to you. Sheridan, Varden. Do you know the low rise that borders the field with that tumble of stones?"

"We've both seen it," Sheridan said, looking at Varden, who nodded.

"Sheridan, you take the western huntsmen. Varden, you take the huntsmen from your Clan. I want that rise guarded. Now. The Black Coats' army has to move across that field or down the road in order to strike at the village or the Old Place."

"They're moving?" Liam said. "Are you sure?"

Ashk hesitated, then shook her head. "It's not something I know, it's something I feel."

"Messages from the spirits of the woods?" Selena asked.

Ashk jolted, too startled for a moment to reply. How—? Of course. Selena must have heard the story about how the Fae came to be, just as Rhyann had.

"It is my gift that hears the warning, not my head," she said slowly.

Selena nodded. "Then it's a warning we should heed."

Liam shook his head. "We aren't sure the Black Coats are moving, but we are sure there was something close to the Old Place last night."

"It's easy enough," Donovan said. "I'll ride to the village and on to Squire Thurston's place to coordinate the defense of the village and the guarding of the main road."

"I'll go with Donovan," Aiden said. "I can take care of sending and receiving messages. Lyrra can do the same here."

"I—" Lyrra began to protest. She pressed her lips together, then took a deep breath and nodded. "All right. Yes, you're right. If the Bard and the Muse can't relay messages, no one can. Gwenn, Gwynith, and Rhyann can help me with that—and with keeping a record of any wounded who may be brought here."

Ashk walked over to her horse. As she swung into the saddle, she found comfort in the feel of a full quiver of arrows resting against her back. "Let's ride."

"The men are ready, Master Adolfo," the guard captain said.

"You understand your orders?" Adolfo asked as he sipped his wine. No sign of disapproval that he took wine so early in the morning. Not today. Never again.

"Yes, Master. One arm of the army will seize the village. The other arm will take possession of that low rise, set up the catapults, and crush the Fae and the other witch-lovers when they move against it."

"Let it rain fire."

"Yes, Master."

"But I must have some prisoners," Adolfo said firmly. "Males." He waited until the captain nodded. "You may tell the men one other thing. Today I will give fifty gold coins to every man who kills a witch."

"Fifty!" With effort, the guard captain regained his professional stance. "They'll kill every female they encounter in an effort to claim the reward."

Adolfo smiled. "Yes, they probably will. But the foul creatures I want are easy enough to identify. Most of them wear an ornament hidden beneath their clothing. A five-pointed star within a circle. Any man who brings me one of those ornaments—and the tongue of the bitch who wore it—will receive the gold."

He saw a glint of greed in the captain's eyes and did not disapprove of it.

"I'll tell the men," the captain said.

Tell the other captains, Adolfo amended silently. "Go on, then."

"We'll have the Old Place cleansed by nightfall," the captain promised.

"A pretty thought," Adolfo murmured as he watched the man leave with more haste than dignity. He drained his wine glass and set it aside. "A very pretty thought."

Breanna walked toward Nuala's grave, Keely a few steps ahead of her. Keely, still grieving and displaying an unshakable stubbornness, had insisted on walking to the grave that morning. The men who stood the last watch until dawn had already left since it was safe to leave the grave unattended in daylight. Clay, Rory, and Falco had agreed to ride into the village for supplies they'd run short of with so many people to feed. Fiona and some of the other women threw themselves into household chores with grim single-mindedness, but work hadn't provided solace for Nuala's daughter or granddaughter. So the two of them walked to the grave in order to touch the earth, feel the air.

A healthy walk, Nuala used to call it with a smile. It was that. For the first time since she'd found Nuala, Breanna felt a tightness in her chest and shoulders ease. Even in daylight, the grave glowed in its circle of moonlight. She wasn't sure if that light simply offered some comfort to the living or was protection for the dead, but she was grateful for this gift from the Lady of the Moon.

As they reached the grave, Keely stopped and cocked her head. "Do you hear something?"

No, she didn't, but her nose picked up an unpleasant smell in the air that made her uneasy. A . . . decaying smell. Not wanting to think about why she might be smelling something like that, she summoned a light wind and guided it over the crescent of rose bushes Nuala had planted years ago. Even though the bushes were trimmed every year, they were chest-high now, and, despite being so late in the season, there were still enough roses blooming to scent the air.

"I do hear something," Keely said. "There's someone behind the rose bushes, crying. It sounds like a child." She moved toward the bushes, altering her course to come around the nearest end.

Breanna wasn't listening. The wind had stirred the long grass on the bank of the brook, revealing a patch of red cloth for a moment. Puzzled, she walked toward the spot where she'd glimpsed the cloth.

"Hello?" Keely said, moving closer to the bushes. "Are you lost?"

A small sound. A click of pebble on stone. Breanna looked toward the bridge and saw the three riders, still distant, heading toward her. Liam, she thought affectionately. Coming for his daily brotherly inspection.

"Don't cry. You don't have to be afraid. Are you lost?"

Another click of pebble on stone. Another small sound, muted but still filled with agony. Dismissing Liam and his companions, she turned her attention back to the brook and moved closer.

Keely rounded the end of the crescent, stopped when she was close to the middle of it, and asked, "Who are you?"

Ashk reined in so hard and fast her horse almost tumbled over in its effort to obey. She patted its neck as both comfort and praise, but her attention was on the light wind blowing in her face.

Selena and Liam pulled up and looked back at her.

"Ashk?" Selena said.

"Can't you smell it?" A tremor went through Ashk's body. "That smell. That scent."

Selena turned her face into the wind. "I don't—" She gasped, then twisted in the saddle to look at the Hunter. "It's coming from the direction of Nuala's grave. And there's someone near there."

"Breanna," Liam whispered. He whipped his horse into a frenzied gallop, leaving Selena and Ashk racing to keep up with him.

Get away from there, Breanna, Ashk thought as she rode recklessly toward the bridge. Get away from there!

Breanna felt her gorge rise as she reached the bank and looked down. Fear hammered in her chest, in her head.

Not a piece of red cloth. Part of a bloody arm. The small man had been ripped apart before the remains had been flung up on the bank, abandoned.

She saw other things now. Mangled bodies of water sprites caught among the stones. Blood still dripping over the stones into the water.

"Who are you?" Keely asked again, her voice now holding a touch of fear.

Blood still dripping over the stones. Breanna shivered.

Pebble on stone.

She whipped her head toward the sound so fast, she felt a muscle pull in her neck.

The water sprite clung to the rocks, her side nothing more than ripped flesh and broken bones. "Run, Breanna," she whispered. "Moonlight. Circle. Can't. . . touch . . . circle. Run."

The sprite stared at her with dying eyes as Breanna backed away from the water. Fresh blood. Fresh death. "Keely?" She turned to look for her mother, the woman who had remained a child. She saw Keely's head and shoulders above the rose bushes. "Keely?"

"W-what are you?" Keely took a step back.

"Keely! Get away from there!" Breanna ran toward the rose bushes. The circle would protect them. She could warn Liam that there was danger here before he got too close. But first. . .

She heard Liam shouting at her, but she didn't stop, just ran.

Keely spun around, stumbled, and grabbed the rose bushes to keep from falling, screaming in pain and terror.

Breanna rounded the end of the crescent and stopped, too frozen to do more than stare.

They were big. Much bigger than the ones that had attacked her and Liam a few weeks ago. And . . . different. Not wings, but flaps of skin that stretched from hips to front limbs, like the squirrels that could glide from tree to tree.

As she watched, unable to move, one of the creatures sank its sharp, jagged teeth into Keely's leg, ripping off a chunk of her calf and gulping it down while another slashed at the other thigh with teeth and talons. When a third scrambled up Keely's back and sank its teeth into the flesh that joined shoulder and neck, her scream raked through Breanna.

"Keely!" She took a step forward, unable to think past the fear and yet certain she needed to do something.

Until the fourth creature turned and stared at her—and her courage shattered.

It had a long, deep gash down one limb, as if it had been slashed with a sharp stone. Tears still glistened on its dark, leathery face. Snot still bubbled from its nostrils. It let out one whimpering cry as it held up its arms to her—and then snarled and leaped.

And Keely's screams of terror turned into a shriek of rage as she let go of the rose bushes and grabbed one of the creature's legs. "Not my girl. You can't have my girl! EARTH!"

The ground around Keely moved, shifted, churned. She sank into the earth so fast there was no time for the creatures attached to her to escape.

Breanna watched Keely disappear. Watched her mother's hand convulse around the leg it held, pulling the last creature down with her until it was buried up to its waist. It screamed, clawing at the ground as it fought to free itself. She watched, too numb to move, until an arrow whistled past her and buried itself in the creature's chest.

Silence.

Keely.

She wanted to scream to break the silence, to beg Keely to come back. But she couldn't move, couldn't speak.

"Liam, get Breanna away from here. Get her away now." She recognized Selena's voice, but it was just a sound.

She knew Liam picked her up. She knew he got her on his horse somehow and they were galloping to her house. But she was too far away to feel him, too far away to feel anything. Even the wind.

"Mother's mercy," Ashk said, her voice rough with pain and pity. "That bastard turned children into nighthunters." She closed her eyes and shuddered. "He turned them into nighthunters."

"Could they still be alive down there?"

There was something cutting about Selena's voice—and there was something odd about that cutting tone.

"They're buried in the earth," Ashk said. "Buried alive."

"But they might be able to survive longer than her?"

What difference does it make? "I don't know."

Selena raised her hands and pointed at the nighthunter that stared at them with dead eyes. "I call fire to cleanse and air to give it breath."

The nighthunter burst into flames, burning so hot Ashk took a step back. Moments later, spears of fire shot out of the ground, and she thought—she imagined—she heard something shriek.

The fire was gone as quickly as it had been summoned. It was only her refusal to give in to the urge to back away—and keep backing away—that made Ashk stand where she was.

Mother's Daughters. House of Gaian. They aren't the same as the witches who live among us. And this one . . . Mother's mercy. This one.

Selena watched the tendrils of smoke rising from the ground. "You said nighthunters feasted on spirits as well as flesh and blood. If, by some chance, they were able to live even a minute longer than she did, they could have destroyed more than her body. I couldn't save the flesh, but I could save the spirit."

"She wouldn't have survived long in any case, but she might have been alive when you sent your fire into the earth."

"I know," Selena said softly. "That's why I had Liam take Breanna away from here."

No, Ashk thought, we do not know your kind at all. We do not understand the power that walks in the Mother's Hills.

"Do you fear me, Hunter?"

"At this moment, I am feeling cautious, Huntress," Ashk said carefully.

"It is wise of you to feel that way when you deal with the House of Gaian. That is something our enemy has yet to learn." Selena raised her hands. "Earth."

The ground shivered. Softened. The nighthunter, with Ashk's arrow buried in its chest, sank into the earth.

Selena raised her hands higher. "Sister moon." She glowed as moonlight washed over her skin, pooled at her feet, then spread out until it became a shining circle bordered on one side by a crescent of rose bushes.

The glow faded from Selena's skin. She turned and walked back to where Mistrunner waited.

Ashk studied the glowing circle for a long moment before going to her own horse and mounting.

"Selena?" She waited until the Huntress looked at her. "I am cautious, but I do not fear you."

"Why not?"

"Because I think your heart matches your power."

A film of tears covered Selena's eyes before she blinked them away. "We'd better see if Liam needs help with Bre—"

"Hunter!"

Ashk dropped the reins, freeing both hands for arrow and bow. She relaxed a little when she saw the Fae male cantering toward her—until she got a good look at his face.

"The Muse sent me to find you," he said. "The fight's started."

"Where?"

"At the field with those tumbled stones. We got to that low rise ahead of them, but not by much. That's where the fight is— and along the road leading to the village."

"Warn the witches in the Old Place, then ride to the Fae camps and tell the leaders to get their huntsmen to that rise as fast as they can."

As she and Selena rode over the bridge and galloped over the fields that provided the fastest route to the battleground, she wished there was some way to convince Liam to stay out of the fight for Breanna's sake—and knew the wish was a futile one.

Liam slowed his horse as he rode through the arch. When one of the boys came forward to take the horse, he shook his head and turned the animal toward the kitchen door. Since Breanna was in no shape to walk, it was easier to let the horse carry them both.

The barking caught his attention for a moment before he shook his head. Idjit was dancing under the big tree, defending the world from another squirrel.

The kitchen door opened. He heard Fiona's voice, sharp with annoyance. "Either shut him up or lock him up. I don't need his yapping today."

"I'll get him." Brooke came out of the house, waved at him, and trotted toward the tree. "Idjit! You stop that now, you hear? You're giving Fiona the headache."

Suddenly Breanna went rigid in his arms. "Keely, no," she whispered.

Liam tried to shove aside the worry that flooded through him. They didn't look anything alike, but Brooke and Keely had been about the same age mentally. That's why she was confusing the two. She was still stunned by what she'd witnessed. That was all.

"Keely, no!"

Breanna rammed her elbow into him, breaking his hold so that she half fell, half slid off the horse. The momentum took her forward a couple of steps before she fell to her hands and knees.

He flung himself off the horse, giving it a slap to send it to the stables. He tried to lift Breanna, but she clung to the ground, making horrible, mindless noises while she stared at the tree. He glanced at the tree. Idjit's barking had become frenzied, and Brooke had slowed down, her attention also caught by something in the tree.

Wind riffled the leaves, just enough for him to catch a glimpse of a dark shape hiding in the branches. Something too big to be a squirrel.

"Mother's tits!" Fiona burst out of the kitchen, a poker in her hand. "Can't I have a minute to tend the fire without having to deal with some kind of ruckus?"

He closed the distance between them without realizing he'd started to move, grabbed the poker out of Fiona's hand, and ran just as the nighthunter jumped out of the tree, its flaps of skin turning the jump into a gliding fall. Heading straight at Brooke.

Heat pulsed under his skin, but he couldn't unleash the fire because Brooke was standing between him and the creature. He couldn't burn one without burning the other.

He ran as if his world depended on it—and knew he wouldn't reach her in time.

The nighthunter landed, but before it could leap on the girl, Idjit attacked, sinking his teeth in the flap of skin and bracing his legs to play a deadly game of tug.

Shrieking, the creature turned on the dog, ripping and tearing.

Liam reached Brooke. Grabbing the back of her dress, he flung her behind him, then braced for the attack.

The nighthunter, crouched over the still dog, lifted its face. Blood spilled over its chin. As it gathered itself to leap at him, Liam stepped forward and swung the poker at its head with all his strength. He heard the sharp crack of bone. Felt the poker sink into something softer. Watched the poker slide out of the smashed skull as the body slumped over the dog's haunches.

And saw the perfectly shaped human foot. The birthmark on the back of a pink-skinned calf. A birthmark a distraught mother had described to the guards who had searched for her missing child.

He dropped the poker and backed away. He'd seen, briefly, when Ashk shot the creature that Keely had prevented from attacking Breanna. He'd seen, but his mind had refused to understand.

His gorge rose as he remembered the feel of the poker connecting with that small head. He turned, caught a glimpse of Elinore running out of the house while Fiona tried to comfort Brooke, who was crying hysterically. Then he stumbled away from them as far as he could manage before he fell to his hands and knees and was violently sick.

Breanna slowly got to her feet. On legs that felt as fragile as cracked glass, she walked toward the tree, wobbling as if she'd been ill for a very long time. Her legs buckled before she reached the tree, so she crawled the rest of the way on her hands and knees. She saw a foreleg twitch, heard the bubbly, labored breathing as she crawled to the dog.

Nothing to be done for him. His belly was ripped open, and blood bubbled from the wound in his neck, soaking his fur and the ground under him.

He whined when he saw her. Tried to lift his head.

She bent over him, petted him, whispered to him. "Idjit. You foolish dog. You foolish, brave, idjit of a dog. Thank you for loving her. Thank you for saving her. We'll give you back to the Mother at your favorite spot under the tree, where you liked to nap. That way you'll always be with us. And Aiden will write a song about you so you'll always be remembered."

The dog sighed out a breath—and didn't breathe again.

"Merry meet, Idjit. . . until we meet again." She gave the dog a final caress, and whispered, "Keely."

Then she laid down beside the dog, too broken inside to do anything else.

Liam staggered to his feet and moved away from the smell of sickness before it brought him to his knees again. Fiona must have taken Brooke into the house, but Elinore waited for him. Edgar stood beside her, glancing uneasily at the figures under the tree.

His heart lurched when he saw Breanna on the ground beside the dog. Before he could decide if Breanna or Elinore needed him more at that moment, a rider came through the arch, paused long enough to have one of the boys point at Liam, then trotted to the kitchen door. The rider glanced at the figures under the tree, then averted his eyes.

"You have news?" Liam called, moving quickly to join Elinore and Edgar.

"Yes, sir. The Hunter said to warn the ladies of the house that the fighting has started along the road to the village and the low rise where she sent some of the men this morning. I'm to ride to the camps around here and give the word they're to come and be quick."

"Go on then, and be quick yourself," Liam said. "Ashk didn't send enough men to hold that rise if the Inquisitors start throwing companies of men at them."

The Fae rider wheeled his horse and galloped toward the pasture gate. Before any of the boys around the stable could run to open the gate, his horse cleared it and kept running.

Liam stripped off his coat. Pulling Edgar aside, he thrust the coat into the man's arms. "I want you to stay here."

"Aye, that's what I was told when the rest of the men headed out with Varden's huntsmen this morning." Edgar smiled grimly. "Everyone agreed we needed one man to stay to keep the boys on their chores, and I drew the short straw."

In more ways than you know, Liam thought grimly. Keeping his voice low, he said, "Cover the nighthunter with the coat, and make sure it's completely covered. Then get Breanna into the house."

Edgar nodded. "I'll get a hand cart and take the creature away from the house before I bury it."

"You'll take kindling and lamp oil with you. After you dig the hole, you put that thing in and burn it before you finish burying it."

"Burn it!"

Liam gripped Edgar's arm hard enough to make the other man wince. "Listen to me. That creature, no matter what it once had been, was a nighthunter, and we burn nighthunters. That's all the ladies need to know. That's all they ever need to know."

"All right, Baron. If it's that important to you, I'll do just as you say."

Stepping away from Edgar, he approached Elinore.

"Where's Keely?" Elinore asked quietly.

Liam swallowed hard. "Keely's dead."

Elinore looked at Breanna. "You have to go. I know that. But be careful, Liam. Please be careful. Not just for my sake, but for hers."

He kissed her cheek. "I'll be back."

"See that you are. We'll look after Breanna."

Since he could think of nothing more to say, he strode to the stables, mounted his horse, and rode away toward the battle.