by Anne Bishop
Ashk shook her head and smiled. “I’m sorry I missed seeing that.” Then she sighed. “Whatever the problem is, Liam, just tell me.”
“There are Fae who are predators in their other form,” Liam said carefully.
“Yes, there are.”
“And those predators might do some hunting while they’re here.”
“They might.”
“They might hunt people.”
Ashk tensed. Her voice chilled. “Say what you have to say, Baron.”
Liam took a deep breath. Let it out slowly. “Two young children are missing from outlying farms. At first, their families thought they’d wandered off, saw something intriguing among the trees and followed it. They reported it to the guards who make a daily round to all the farms and estates, and there was a search. But when the children weren’t found…”
“People started wondering if the Fae might have indulged in a quick hunt—or had taken the children for some other reason,” Ashk finished for him.
“Yes.”
“Well,” Ashk said after a long silence, “I understand why they would ask the question.”
Liam looked slightly alarmed. “You do?”
Ashk gave in and rubbed her forehead. “I’m a mother, Liam. I have two children. If one of them was missing, I’d wonder about the Fae, too, but for a different reason. Or, perhaps, for the same reason.” When she saw no comprehension in his eyes, she sighed. “If one of the Fae in the form of a predator killed those children, it is only the bodies that are gone. The loved one will go to the Summerland and return to the world one day. There’s a comfort in that. But if it was a different kind of predator that took those children…”
“Nighthunters,” Liam said, turning pale.
Ashk nodded. “If I were the mother of either of those children, I’d rather wonder about the Fae than consider the other possibility. There is no hope in the other possibility. When the nighthunters feast, there is no spirit left to gather, no one to take to the Shadowed Veil.”
“Mother’s mercy,” Liam whispered. “I know that. I’ve talked to Fae who have encountered nighthunters. Breanna and I were attacked by them. But I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
Ashk pushed herself out of the chair. “We found the nest of nighthunters we scented, and the creatures have been killed and burned. I’d just gotten back when I got your message. I can’t say with certainty, but hopefully that was all of them that remained around Willowsbrook. If any more appear…Well, there are plenty of Fae around here now who can detect the scent. We’ll hope we can detect them before they do any harm. As for the children, I’ll send some of the winged Fae out to search. A hawk can see a great deal more than any of us can see on foot.”
Liam stood. “Thank you, Hunter.”
She shook her head. “Thank me when we’ve found the children. You didn’t say how old they were.”
“Young. Two or three years.”
Children, Ashk thought as she went upstairs to wash up and indulge in an hour’s rest. Toddlers, really. Old enough to scamper off in pursuit of a butterfly in a meadow or a fawn glimpsed in the woods. Caitlin had done it to her once. Had wandered off during a moment when her attention had been required elsewhere. She and the Clan had searched for a frantic day before she’d found her girl in a fox’s den, sound asleep with the kits snuggled around her, all of them being guarded by a very confused vixen.
She could wish for something that simple. Hope for something so screamingly normal. But she knew in her gut it wasn’t simple or normal. So she was left with the question of what had happened to two small children—just as she was left with the question of what had happened to Jean.
Chapter 44
waning moon
Hearing the guard captain call a halt, Adolfo pushed aside the cloth covering the carriage window and waited. No further orders were given. He’d heard no urgency to indicate a company from the enemy’s army was approaching. So he waited until the guard captain rode back to the carriage and bent low in the saddle to look at the Master Inquisitor.
“What is the delay?” Adolfo asked.
“One of the Sylvalan brats who were sent out with carts has returned. Says he’s found what you’re looking for,” the guard captain replied.
The Wolfram captain knew better than to let anything in his voice imply criticism of a decision made by the Master Inquisitor, but Adolfo knew the man hadn’t been pleased to have a choice assignment given to unknown, untried, unwanted bastards who came from the enemy’s land. After all, what man wouldn’t want to be the one to supply the tools the Witch’s Hammer needed to hamstring the enemy?
Adolfo leaned forward, but the guard captain dismounted quickly enough to open the door for him.
A good man, Adolfo thought approvingly. He had the proper balance of subservience and authority, and his ambitions didn’t outstrip his common sense. “Where is the Sylvalan boy?”
“Just up ahead. He was stopped by our outriders. I can have him brought to you, Master Adolfo. There’s no need for you to walk.”
Adolfo raised his right hand in a gesture that was dismissive but not slighting. “I welcome the opportunity to stretch my legs,” he said mildly as he walked toward the head of the column of men. The column split, men stepping to the sides of the road to leave the center clear for him and the guard captain, who handed his horse’s reins to one of the men.
The boy stood to one side of the road, flanked by two guards. Two others flanked the cart, while the fifth held the horse.
Catching sight of him, the boy brightened and took a daring step away from the guards. “I succeeded, Master Adolfo. I found what you were looking for.”
Adolfo moved a few steps closer, then stopped to give the boy that mild stare that had shattered the nerves of Wolfram barons when the Master Inquisitor showed up at their estates unexpectedly.
“I am the only one who decides if you succeed, boy,” Adolfo said softly.
The boy paled and looked at the ground. “Yes, Master. I—My apologies for speaking out of turn.”
Adolfo smiled. “We’ll see if your success is reason enough for a loss of manners.” He walked over to the cart and frowned. Then a scent wafted up from the cart, and his heart began to race. He pointed to the smaller sacks. “Show me.”
The guards flanking the cart moved to one side, reached in, and untied the tops of the sacks.
Perfect, Adolfo thought. Of the eight carts he’d sent out, only three others had returned with anything he could use. When added to these…Five tools weren’t as many as he’d hoped for, but they would be enough to distract the enemy leaders. Now all he needed…
Tipping his head to indicate the large sack, he looked at the guard captain. “Show me.” Sweat beaded on his forehead. His heart hammered in his chest as the captain opened the sack and pulled it down enough to show him what was inside.
The girl’s terrified eyes stared at him as she made distressed sounds, muffled by the gag. She stank of fear and sweat. She also stank of magic.
Adolfo turned away from the cart. He studied the boy, now watching him anxiously. “You were right, boy. You did succeed. Well done.”
The boy sagged in relief, then recovered swiftly enough to ask, “Then I’ll become an apprentice? I’ll become an Inquisitor?”
That combination of brashness and hopeful fear. Ubel had been like that when he’d found him years ago. Yes, perhaps he would keep his promise to this boy and mold him into a useful tool. Take him back to Wolfram to shape him and train him, then send him back here to be a hammer against his own people.
“You have much to learn before you can become a warrior against the Evil One and its servants,” Adolfo said. “As for your apprenticeship…You can begin by looking after the creatures you brought me. Take good care of them.”
He hurried back to his carriage, the guard captain beside him. “We must act swiftly now. Send messengers back to the main army. Have them come up with all possible speed. Question the boy. See if he
noticed any land near Willowsbrook that would serve us well in a fight. And assign some of your best archers to join the outriders. As we get closer to the enemy, they may use the Fae to try to spy on us. Kill any bird that flies near, any beast that stops to watch men pass instead of fleeing, any hawk soaring overhead.”
The guard captain nodded. “I have some archers who can shoot the eye out of a soaring hawk.”
Adolfo paused at the carriage door. “That’s exactly what needs to be done.” He swung into the carriage. “You have your orders.”
“As you will, Master Adolfo.” The guard captain saluted, then moved off to give his orders.
As I will, Adolfo thought as he settled himself in the carriage and closed his eyes. He smiled. Yes. As I will.
Chapter 45
waning moon
Morag knelt in front of the open window, her chin resting on her crossed arms. Quiet conversations drifted up to her from the inn’s garden courtyard where men and women were enjoying a still summer night. The voices were nothing more than sounds, as soothing as air flirting with leaves or water murmuring over stone. Just another part of the Mother, those voices. Not surprising, since she was in the part of Sylvalan ruled by the House of Gaian. She was in the Mother’s Hills.
Odd how she’d never thought to describe Tir Alainn to Ari and Neall but found herself trying to remember everything she could about these hills. When she returned home, she wanted to tell them about the horses, the people, the land…and the shadow hounds.
As she followed the innkeeper across the courtyard, she spotted the children playing with a litter of puppies under the shadow hound bitch’s watchful eyes. She walked over to them, unable to resist getting a better look at the little bundles of fur.
“Hadn’t intended to breed her,” the innkeeper said, grinning. “But females of all kinds are tempted to take a walk on the night of the Summer Moon.”
She knelt and picked up the little bitch of the litter, who was more black than gray and had tan markings on her legs and face. An adorable bundle of fur.
Cuddling the puppy, she looked up at the innkeeper. “What are you going to do with them?”
“Oh, most of them are already spoken for,” the innkeeper replied. “Pure shadow hounds are hunters, but a shadow hound mix tends to be happiest with a family where it can be both companion and protector. So there’s no worry about any of them finding a place around here.”
Reluctantly, she put the puppy down and got to her feet. She wanted that little bitch. Merle had never been hers, not really. She wanted something of her own to care for and cuddle. And Ari and Neall wouldn’t mind having another shadow hound around the Old Place.
The innkeeper studied her. “The little bitch isn’t spoken for yet.”
She hesitated, then shook her head. “I’m headed for Willowsbrook. I couldn’t take her with me.”
The innkeeper nodded. “Lots of folks traveling to Willowsbrook lately. Tell you what. The pups aren’t ready to leave their mother quite yet. I’ll hold her for a while longer, and you think on it. If you decide you don’t want her, just send a message back and I’ll let her go to someone else.”
Morag rested her forehead on her arms. She’d reach Willowsbrook in four days. Maybe three if the dark horse and her escorts’ horses could maintain the pace. She’d get there in time to help Ashk and the Huntress stop the Witch’s Hammer from devouring any more of Sylvalan. And when it was over, they would all go home.
Aching and stiff from long days in the saddle, Morag rose and got ready for bed. As she blew out the bedside candle and settled down to sleep, she thought about the feel of the puppy’s fur and its eagerness to belong to someone.
She would give the innkeeper her answer in the morning. The puppy would stay here a while longer, waiting for her in a land that flowed with the power of life while she rode to a place that would be a banquet for Death.
Chapter 46
waning moon
Adolfo walked into the small clearing. He’d spent the entire morning searching for the right place—a place within the cover of the trees just beyond the field with the tumbled stones, a place shielded from the eyes of curious men.
Now, as afternoon waned toward evening, he studied everything carefully to be sure his Inquisitors had followed his orders. Finally, he nodded once to show approval—and was amused to see the relief in their faces…and the curiosity they allowed to show now that they knew they wouldn’t be reprimanded for some oversight.
“Leave now,” Adolfo said. “This is delicate work, and I must focus all my power as the Master Inquisitor to take the foul magic of our enemy and transform it into a weapon that will be used against them. I must not be disturbed. I will summon you when the task is done and we are ready for the next step.”
One by one, the Inquisitors left the clearing, their eyes flicking from the cage covered with blankets to the witch tied to a stool. But they asked no questions, and when this was all over, none of them would ever dare question him, even in their own minds. When they finally saw what he could do, they would know having a dead arm had not diminished the power the Witch’s Hammer could wield. They would do anything for him, be anything for him. They would know that the foulness in Sylvalan that had crippled his body had not really crippled him at all. And when they’d cleansed this land of the witches and the barons and the Fae who stood in the way of men ruling what was rightfully theirs, his Inquisitors and the barons in Sylvalan, Arktos, and Wolfram would know once and for all that he was the true power in the world. And everything would be as it was meant to be.
Adolfo walked to the cage and adjusted the blankets covering it to create a small opening. The creatures stirred, drawn to the sliver of light. One of them started whimpering. They must have consumed the food his Inquisitors had put in the cage—or had lost interest in it.
He moved away from the cage and bent his will into creating a circle of power that would contain what he was going to do. What he sent into the circle would remain within the circle until it was absorbed by flesh that would be twisted and transformed into something glorious and deadly.
Once the circle of power was completed, he turned his attention to the witch. Not much of a witch. Barely a witch, despite the initial stink of magic he’d sensed when she was revealed to him. If she’d been merely a hedge witch, she would have been no use to him. He would have handed her over to the guards to enjoy. But she had enough connection with the branch of earth that he could use her as a channel for power. Her own strength might not have been enough to transform all five of the creatures, but the land here was saturated with magic, more than he’d felt anywhere else. So she would be his tool for draining that power to feed his spell.
More whimpers from inside the cage. The witch, bridled and blindfolded, whimpered too.
Placing his right hand on her shoulder, Adolfo began draining the magic out of her, drawing it into himself. Tapping into the power in the land once he’d drained her own pittance of magic. More. And more, until he was so swollen with power he thought his skin would burst.
Then he raised his hand and released the power in a fierce wave, twisting it as he sent it flying into the cage, as he said the words, “Twist and change. Change and twist. Become what I would make of thee. As I will, so mote it be.”
Power crashed into the cage, snapping a few of the wooden bars as it sought living flesh. It crackled in a way that grated on the ears, dazzled the eyes with tiny bolts of lightning.
Finally, the power he’d gathered was spent. He waited, listening. When he heard faint stirrings from inside the cage, he released his breath in a deep sigh of satisfaction. He hadn’t been sure these creatures would survive the transformation. They were much larger than the squirrels or birds that were usually changed when Inquisitors twisted magic and sent it back into the world. It would take longer for the transformation to be complete.
Adolfo looked up at the patch of sky visible between the trees. He would wait an hour or two before checking on
the progress of his new creations. The guards who had been selected for the next step would need the cover of darkness to ride through enemy territory to deliver his gifts to Baron Liam and the witches in the Old Place, so there was no hurry. There was time for a meal and a glass or two of wine.
After one dismissive glance at the witch, still bound and blindfolded, he walked away from the clearing.
Wanting a few minutes of solitude, Liam almost retreated back to the house when he saw Aiden sitting on a stone bench in the garden, the Bard’s fingers gently plucking the strings of a small harp. Then Aiden looked up, and Liam, cursing gentry manners, walked over and sat on the other end of the bench.
After listening for a minute, Liam asked, “Is that a new tune?”
Aiden smiled. “No, it’s just a way of letting my mind wander while my fingers regain some of their skill.”
Since Aiden didn’t seem to expect conversation, Liam slowly relaxed, letting the drift of notes melt into the softening light and the scents of the flowers his mother fussed over.
There was nothing to do but wait now. The enemy had been sighted, but Falco, Sheridan, and the other winged Fae hadn’t been able to get close enough to get an idea of how vast the army moving toward Willowsbrook might be because archers were shooting any birds that came within range. Falco had a couple of wing feathers tattered by an arrow, and Sheridan had barely avoided being hit. If there were Fae who hadn’t made it back to the camps, neither Ashk nor Selena had mentioned it. Maybe because there had been no losses—or maybe because the weight of grieving for Nuala still hung over all of them, and the Hunter and Huntress had made the decision not to add to the grief, knowing there would be more to come in the days ahead.
Think of something else, Liam scolded himself. “Do you think I’m being an ass about Breanna and Falco?”