by Anne Bishop
Grabbing the basket and canteens, the creature hurried toward the open kitchen door. Then stopped. “Have you seen the Hunter?”
“I’ve seen the Hunter.”
“Tell her…Warn her that the Gatherer has come.”
Breanna saw the dark horse waiting a few steps beyond the open door, saw the creature mount and ride away…
The Gatherer has come.…felt the floor disappear……and heard someone saying, “Bless the Mother, she’s all right. She just fainted, is all.”
Fainted? How embarrassing.
“Nothing to be embarrassed about, Lady Breanna. Never saw anyone with so much foolish courage.”
She didn’t remember speaking, but she must have since Liam’s housekeeper was answering her.
Her eyes popped open. They’d carried her to Elinore’s morning room. A smell of burnt feathers stung the air. She’d never understood why gentry households thought burning feathers was so useful for bringing someone out of a faint, but maybe she could add a few coins to the house funds by selling Falco’s molted feathers to gentry ladies. Would he be offended by the suggestion or find it amusing? She must remember to ask him, must remember…
The Gatherer has come.
She struggled to sit up. “Where’s Sloane?”
“Here, Lady Breanna.”
She focused on him. The foolish courage the housekeeper had praised was deserting her, and she had to tell him before her body began shaking so badly she wouldn’t be coherent. “Send the Fae who are waiting for me. They have to find Ashk and Selena and bring them back here now.”
“Yes, Lady.”
The housekeeper urged her to lie down again, tucked a blanket around her. Fear was a runaway horse inside her, and she couldn’t stop shaking. Mother’s mercy, what were they supposed to do? What could Ashk or Selena or any of them do?
The Gatherer has come.
Ashk, Selena, and Liam stood on the low rise overlooking the field. The sun was barely on the horizon, but most of the fog was already gone, giving her a clear view of the field.
“The bodies are gone,” Ashk said. They’d had to leave the dead on the field last night. Finding the wounded and getting them to a house where they could be tended had taken all their effort.
“We gave them back to the Mother last night,” Rhyann said.
Ashk closed her eyes and wished a silent farewell to the men who hadn’t returned from that field. Then she pushed aside any thoughts about those who were gone. She had to do her best for the living—and for the land.
“Those stones,” Selena said softly, dreamily.
Ashk looked at the tumble of huge stones that dominated the field. “A den for their longbowmen.”
“A den,” Selena said in that same soft, dreamy voice. “Yes, a den for the Black Coats.”
“Selena?” Worry sharpened Ashk’s voice. Neither of them had gotten much sleep, and she didn’t like the unfocused look in Selena’s eyes.
“Earth. Air. Water. Fire. Light of the sun. Light of the moon. Dreams and will. That’s what it takes.”
Mother’s tits! What is the woman talking about? But the way Rhyann’s expression sharpened told Ashk that, while the words meant nothing to her, they were important.
“Yes,” Rhyann said after studying the stones. “But how to drive the Black Coats to that spot? Fighting isn’t enough. We need something they’ll run from without thinking, something they’ll fear in their hearts and react to.”
That she could answer. “The Wild Hunt.”
Selena and Rhyann looked at her thoughtfully. Varden nodded.
“The Wild Hunt?” Liam asked, sounding skeptical.
“It would be better if we had packs of shadows hounds—”
“We have them,” Gwynith said, hurrying back to them. “I was just talking to one of the Fae Lords. He said three Ladies of the Moon arrived at the camps just before the fog closed in last night. They came with their huntsmen—and their packs of shadow hounds.”
“If you want something humans will fear, Huntress, there’s your answer,” Ashk said.
Selena nodded. “Two arrows driving the Black Coats to those stones. One coming from the road, the other from this end of the rise. The human companies will take the middle of the field, coming down from the rise.”
“And the House of Gaian?” Liam asked.
“We have a different task.” Selena looked at Rhyann. “I’ll leave it to you to gather the Sons and Daughters.”
Rhyann nodded. “And I’ll gather what we’ll need.”
“Need for what?” Ashk asked.
Selena smiled coldly as she stared at the stones. “For justice…and for vengeance. I have no interest in the men who were commanded to fight, but the Black Coats, the barons, and the guard captains…I want them driven into those stones.”
Liam raked a hand through his hair. “The barons—”
Selena turned on him. “Show me a baron who did not order the death of a witch, and he is yours to deal with as you choose. But the others come to me.”
Liam stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. “What will you do with them?”
Selena’s smiled turn colder. “We’ll give them what they want.”
“Let’s move,” Ashk said. “The sun’s coming up, and the Black Coats will be forming their companies. We have to do the same.”
As she turned to go down the rise, she saw a huntsman galloping toward her.
“Hunter!” he yelled. “Hunter!”
“What is it?” Ashk demanded. “What’s wrong?”
“You have to come to the baron’s house. Lady Breanna says she has to speak with you right away.”
Breanna was at Liam’s house? She was relieved to hear Breanna was no longer lost in that horrible frozen retreat she’d sunk into yesterday, but…“Tell Breanna I’ll be there as soon as I can. We’ve a battle coming in a few hours and—”
“Hunter, you have to come now. And the Huntress, too.”
“Go on,” Liam said. “I’ll stay here and start bringing our people into position.”
Knowing what it must have cost him to stay, Ashk nodded. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.” She touched his arm lightly. “She’s strong, Liam. The grief will ease, and she’ll heal.”
“That she wants to talk to anyone is a relief.” He tried to smile.
Ashk and Selena hurried down the rise to where their horses waited and galloped away, leaving the Fae Lord who had brought the message trailing behind them.
When they reached Liam’s house, it was clear by the way Sloane hovered at the front door, watching for them, that something had happened.
As they reached the door, someone called out, “Hunter!”
A young Fae Lord trotted over from the stables and handed her a wax-sealed piece of paper. “I was told to hand this to the Bard, or to you, Hunter, if the Bard wasn’t here.”
Ashk nodded, tucked the paper under her belt, and went inside.
They found Breanna in the morning room, wrapped in blankets, both hands around a large glass of whiskey.
Ashk went down on one knee in front of her. Selena sat beside her, putting an arm around Breanna’s shoulders.
“Breanna?” Ashk touched her knee and realized Breanna was trembling. The woman was strong, but how many blows could she take before she broke?
“I have to tell you…warn you…”
“Tell me what?”
“The Gatherer has come.” Breanna began shaking so hard, Selena had to help her raise the glass of whiskey so that she could drink.
Relief flooded through Ashk. “Morag has come? She’s here?”
Breanna shook her head. “We gave It food…and grain for the horse. It went away.”
It? “Breanna—”
“She’s changed!” Breanna’s voice rose, spiked with fear. “She’s been changed!”
Relief turned into shards of ice that sliced Ashk’s heart. “What do you mean, she’s been changed?”
Tears rolled down B
reanna’s face. “The Gatherer has been changed into a nighthunter.”
Ashk walked out of the house, bolted for trees on one side of the drive. She collapsed against one, fighting the sick churning in her belly.
Morag changed into a nighthunter? The Gatherer of Souls changed into a creature that feasted on—
“Morag,” she whispered. “Mother’s mercy, Morag.”
“What should we do, Hunter?” Selena asked softly.
She wasn’t surprised that Selena had followed her out of the house—both because the Huntress cared about people and because she would want answers.
Ashk straightened up, feeling painfully old, desperately weary. “We do what must be done, Huntress. We form the Wild Hunt. We bring up the companies of humans. We fight the battle that must be fought today.”
“What do we do about the Gatherer?”
“Leave it alone, Selena.”
Selena studied her for a moment, then nodded. “You know her best.” She took a deep breath, let it out in a sigh. “What was the message?”
She’d forgotten about the message. She pulled it out of her belt, broke the seal, and read. “The Black Coats army in the south has been defeated. And the…the warships that were sent to attack the west were also defeated.”
“Then this is it. It comes down to us and the Witch’s Hammer. It comes down to what happens on that field today. If we win, it’s over.”
Ashk refolded the paper and tucked it into her belt. Not quite, she thought grimly. Not quite.
Chapter 51
waning moon
Adolfo watched swollen, putrid flesh push through the rotted skin on the prisoner’s chest—and smiled. A bite to the shoulder, something a healer would think of as a simple wound. But whatever was in a nighthunter’s bite that tainted a wound had spread so swiftly, the black rot had already crept down the prisoner’s arm, crept toward his heart, crept up his neck.
All it had taken was one bite from him. One. The nighthunters he’d made from small animals would kill a man if there were enough of them, but a man could live after being bitten in a limb—if he was willing to sacrifice the limb. But with his bite, the rot spread too fast. A simple bite became a mortal wound.
A scratching on the tent flap. “Master?”
Adolfo pulled up the hood on his cloak. He’d torn off his tunic hours ago, no longer able to stand having the web of skin that had grown out of his side and the underside of his arm trapped by cloth. The cloak would cover him sufficiently until he was ready to reveal himself to his enemies.
Obeying his terse reply, the young Inquisitor peered into the tent. “Is there something you need, Master?”
“Have my horse saddled,” Adolfo growled. “Today I will lead our men to victory. And you can throw that next to the dung pile. Let the flies have it.”
He strode out of the tent, amused at the way the young Inquisitor pulled the tent flap back and held it in front of him as if it were a shield.
There were no shields from the glory he’d become. He would fill the battlefield with pain and fear. And then he would feast.
Crouched on the top of the rise, Ashk looked over the field. How many bowmen were already tucked among that tumble of huge stones? How many Fae would die today? How many humans? She, Selena, and Liam had agreed that the companies and Clans that had fought yesterday wouldn’t be asked to step onto the battlefield again unless there was no other choice. Some of the Fae still hadn’t returned to their human form, and she wondered if some of them ever would.
She couldn’t think about them, couldn’t pity them. They couldn’t win this battle without the Clans, and if they didn’t win today, they would keep fighting, keep dying, keep getting pushed back until there was nowhere to go. So they would fight to the end today—and, hopefully, some of them would go home again.
“Are we ready?” Liam asked, moving up beside her.
Ashk stared at the line of trees at the other end of the field. “We’d better be. They’re coming.” She moved down the rise, heading toward the huntsmen waiting for her. “You know what to do?”
Liam nodded. “My men will take up a position in the trees that border this side of the rise. We stay hidden until the Wild Hunt sweeps down into the field, breaking their lines. Then we deal with the men who are driven our way.” He smiled bleakly. “I know you gave me that position to keep me out of harm’s way, Ashk, but this is my land, my people.”
“And they’re going to need you when this is over. Sylvalan will need you when this is over.”
“Sylvalan needed the barons who died yesterday, too.”
“Don’t argue with me, Liam.”
He stared past her, and whispered, “Breanna.”
She turned—and wanted to snarl. But the woman walking toward her looked too emotionally battered to endure harsh words, so she choked them back.
Ignoring Liam, Breanna came up to Ashk. “My home. My family. I couldn’t help you yesterday. I won’t stand aside today.”
“You sound like your brother,” Ashk said at the same moment Liam said, “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Don’t argue with me, Liam,” Breanna snapped.
He muttered a few extremely vulgar phrases.
Ashk looked at Breanna—and at Falco, who stood just behind her, already pale and sweating. Neither of them should go down into that field, but Breanna, for whatever reason, would do just that. And Falco would go with her.
“Do you see that jumble of wood and stone at the top of the rise?” Ashk pointed to the place where they’d used branches and stones to build a small wall. “I want you to take a position behind that wall. Stay down.”
“I—”
Ashk raised her hand. “You want to help, I’ll take the help. But give me the help I need.”
Breanna blinked.
“Your gift is air, isn’t it?” She waited for Breanna’s nod. “We want the first lines to get past the middle of the field before we move, but that means all the men on our side of the rise will be stationary targets. Blind hits, true, but that won’t matter if we lose too many men before the fight even begins.”
“You want a hard wind their bowmen have to shoot against.”
“Yes.”
Breanna smiled. “I can summon a wind.”
“Go on, then. Get in position.”
Once Breanna and Falco were moving up the rise to their position, Ashk turned to Liam, who looked ready to explode. “Don’t ask her to be less than she is, Liam.”
“And what is she, besides a woman who’s lost her mother and grandmother in the space of a few days?” he demanded.
“A Daughter of the House of Gaian.”
He swallowed whatever he’d been about to say and left her, signaling to his men to take up their own position.
As she reached her horse, she heard Varden call her.
“You don’t have to be here today,” she told him.
“There aren’t many of my men who felt they could face this field again, but those of us who can…” Varden shook his head. “We need to do this, Hunter. Now, there’s not many of us, so I thought we’d join Baron Liam’s men. Besides, fighting from the cover of the trees will be an advantage to our new warriors.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
Ashk stared at the Small Folk being helped off the Fae horses.
“They wanted to come. They’ve lost friends and family to the nighthunters, too. And they’ve assured me they’re wicked accurate with a sling.”
She walked over and studied the grim-faced men and women who were no taller than the length of her arm. All of them carried slings and had a bag bulging with stones hanging from their belts.
“All right,” she said. “You go with Varden and Baron Liam. Varden, tell Liam we’ll alternate between arrow and sling. When the enemy reaches the striking point, let the slings fire first. Once the first line drops, the bowmen will have a clear shot at the second line.”
“Yes, Hunter.”
Ashk hurried to her horse. H
ow much time had passed? How far had the enemy advanced? Her eyes scanned the field. Gwynith and one other Lady of the Moon with a pack of shadow hounds was riding with her. The other two Ladies with their packs were with the Hunt coming up the road from the village. Her huntsmen were ready, the first waves of human companies were waiting for the order to move up the rise and descend into the field. Breanna and Falco had taken up position where she’d told them to. And Selena, dressed in white overdress and trousers, sat quietly on Mistrunner with Rhyann beside her, mounted on Fox.
They’d refused to explain what they’d meant by “dreams and will,” but seeing the Sons and Daughters now gathered behind the Huntress, and remembering the Son who had asked her if she really wanted Wolfram made barren, she decided it was just as well they hadn’t told her what they intended to do after the Black Coats and the barons who followed them were driven into the tumble of stones.
She felt the first gust of wind hit her back, watched men take a stagger-step to keep their balance, saw the trees bend with the force of it. And saw the first enemy arrows hit that wind and dance skyward, tumbling back the way they’d come like twigs driven by a storm.
It was time.
She unhooked her hunting horn from her belt, raised it to her lips, and sounded the call for the Wild Hunt. Lords of the Woods picked up the call, the notes from their horns flying on the wind. Finally she heard the call of a distant horn. After hooking her horn back on her belt, she nocked an arrow in her bow, and, using leg and knee commands, signaled her horse to canter up the rise.
Adolfo kept his horse at a walk as he moved into the field. Excitement filled him as he watched the lines of men marching toward the rise. Hungry lust bit at him, making it hard not to grab one of the men marching past him and begin the feast. But he waited, knowing that soon he would be able to gorge on the spirits locked helplessly to their dead bodies. And once he had destroyed the witches, he would take some of the prettier women from the village and slake another kind of lust.
Then he heard the horns. And something in him too primitive to listen to reason wanted to run, to hide, to get away from whatever was coming behind those horns.