by Anne Bishop
As he lowered her to the ground and her vision dimmed, the look on his face made her very afraid.
He looked back at the bundles in his cart, then grinned as he slapped the reins over the horse's back.
He'd done it! Succeeded beyond expectation. He'd no longer have to work at the charity house where he'd grown up, receiving nothing more than lodgings and a few copper coins each month. When he returned to Master Adolfo's camp, he'd receive the promised reward of an apprenticeship. He'd be trained to be an Inquisitor, a man of power, a man who was somebody.
Never again would the squire who was his grandfather look past him if they saw each other in the village. Never again would he have to pretend he didn't recognize his mother when he saw her shopping with her proper children. Never again would he lie awake at night remembering the arguments between his mother and grandfather before he'd been taken to the charity house.
My son's father is a Fae Lord!
Convenient to say that, daughter, when no man is here to say yay or nae.
He went back to Tir Alainn!
And hasn't made even a token effort to provide for his child? No, daughter. No. I never asked who fathered the boy, and I won't ask now. But you have a chance to marry, and no gentry man is going to want to raise his own sons with a groom's or footman's leavings.
A Fae Lord!
Enough! You can cut yourself off from a good life for yourself, and condemn the boy into the bargain, or you can let him go now while he's still young enough to forget and let him make a life for himself. Make your choice, daughter—and live with it.
She made her choice. And the squire made his choice. But the boy had been old enough to remember, and grieve, the life that had ended when the squire's servants left him at the charity house. And the boy had felt the weight of being a nobody for years—until Master Adolfo had stopped and visited the charity house. Had stopped even though he had an army to command and important work to do in the world.
Master Adolfo had known the boy was special. He'd given the boy a chance to prove he was worthy of the training that would make him a powerful man one day—a man so powerful that even the old squire wouldn't dare ignore him.
And he'd succeeded. Almost within sight of the enemy, he'd succeeded. The Inquisitors had given him the horse and a cart filled with small sacks of flour, sugar, and tea. They'd told him to take the supplies to the more isolated farms and offer them to the females as thanks for the other provisions the army was taking from the surrounding farms.
The females had accepted the supplies with delight, had offered him small glasses of ale and fresh-baked bread. They had given him time to be eyes and ears for the Witch's Hammer. And they had given him time to obtain the special creatures Master Adolfo needed for the coming fight.
The Master had been specific. Find one or two of the special creatures, then get back to the army that was marching toward Willowsbrook. Take no chances, because discovery could destroy everything.
He'd been careful, but he'd had a rough minute or two when he spotted the female. Luckily she'd suspected nothing, had seen nothing. So now he was heading back toward the army that was no more than two or three days' march away from this place. He was returning in triumph.
Not only had he gotten the special creatures the Master Inquisitor wanted, he'd gotten something Master Adolfo wanted even more.
A witch.
Aiden tied the sash around his waist, then tugged at the hem of his dress tunic to make sure it still hung straight. He looked at his harp, rubbed his thumbs over the pads of his still-tender fingers, and shook his head. It would have to be one of his pipes tonight.
"Maybe it's for the best."
Turning, he studied Lyrra's reflection in the mirror. She, too, had worn her best outfit, and she'd left her hair loose so that it flowed down her back. Her eyes were puffy from the tears she'd shed, but it only made her look more beautiful—the Muse who not only touched the world but was touched by it. "What's for the best?"
"That Nuala died now."
Aiden frowned. "How can you say that?"
Lyrra turned to face him. "She went to sleep and never woke up. Isn't that better than dying slowly from a mortal wound, or feeling an arrow bury itself in flesh? She won't know the fear and pain, she won't watch anyone she loves suffer. She won't know what happens here if. . . we fail."
He walked over to her, drew her into his arms. "We won't fail. What has gathered here is more than I'd dared hope for. The Fae have come down from Tir Alainn, the House of Gaian has come out of their hills, and the humans are standing with us. Even the Small Folk are preparing to fight. This battle won't be shining and glorious. It will be desperate and brutal. . . and people will die. Neither of us can be of any use on that battlefield when the time comes, but we have the power of words, Lyrra. We can sing the songs that feed the heart, tell the stories that offer comfort. And later, we can sing of the glory of courage and tell stories about how all the peoples of Sylvalan stood together to face a common enemy. We need to remember that we stood together— and we'll need to honor the dead." He drew back enough to kiss her forehead. "And that's what we need to do now."
He released her long enough to fetch his pipe, then slipped an arm around her waist to lead her out of the room.
Liam waited for them in the front hall, along with Baron Donovan; his wife, Gwenn; and Gwynith, a western Lady of the Moon. They went out to the open carriage that was big enough for all of them since Liam was driving and invited Aiden to join him on the driver's seat.
"Selena, Rhyann, and Ashk have already gone to the place Breanna and Keely chose," Liam said quietly after flicking the reins over his team's back to signal them to move on. "My mother has gone to the Old Place to drop off some dishes for the supper afterward. We've still got a few hours left before full dark, but I doubt anyone will want to linger after paying their respects."
"Where is the place where Nuala will be laid to rest?" Aiden asked.
"Near the brook. There's a place that has a 'sitting stone' and a curve of rose bushes close by that Nuala had planted years ago. She liked to sit there and listen to the water." Liam sighed. "We would have given Nuala back to the Great Mother wherever Breanna chose, but I know Ashk is relieved that it's open ground, and, frankly, so am I."
Aiden nodded. "No chance of nighthunters attacking before they can be seen."
"Yes."
They made the rest of the trip in silence until they crossed the bridge over Willow's Brook and saw all the conveyances lined up beside the road.
"I didn't expect so many humans to come here," Aiden said.
"My father made certain I remained ignorant of the witches who lived here," Liam replied with a trace of bitterness. "But I've learned since that my ignorance wasn't common. Nuala was a fine woman. She was respected by her neighbors, which is more than I can say about my father." He secured the reins and got down, then nodded to the boy who came forward to lead the carriage away as soon as the others had stepped down.
Taking Lyrra's hand, Aiden followed Liam to the spot where the mourners gathered. People stepped aside to let them through, and Aiden wondered if there had ever been a time before this when barons had stood side by side with farmers and Fae Lords, oblivious of the differences that separated them in the day-to-day world.
Nuala lay on the grass, dressed in a blue gown. No coffin, no shroud. Nothing between her and the earth.
For a long moment, Aiden stared at the gold pentagram around her neck, then glanced around. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember seeing Breanna or Nuala or any of the other witches wearing the pentagram openly. Even Selena hadn't worn hers openly. But the witches were wearing them now, and as he looked around, he felt a jolt when he saw men—strangers to him—wearing that symbol over shirts or tunics.
"I didn't know there were men who were witches," Lyrra whispered to Rhyann, who had come over to stand beside them.
Rhyann smiled. "They are the Sons of the House of Gaian. They have t
he same power that comes from the branches of the Great Mother that the Daughters do. Why wouldn't they wear the symbol that acknowledges the bond to the Mother?"
"You don't usually wear it openly," Aiden said.
Rhyann looked puzzled. "Why would we? We don't wear it to remind anyone but ourselves of who and what we are and what we honor. Earth, air, water, fire"—she looked at Nuala—"and spirit."
Seeing two Fae with instruments at the edge of the crowd, Aiden excused himself and made his way over to the minstrels. One carried a small harp; the other had a pipe.
"We've never seen a burial for one of the Mother's Daughters," one of the minstrels said. "What should we do?"
Aiden smiled dryly. "We'll play it by ear."
The quiet conversations around him faded.
Selena, all in white, wore the split gown over trousers. She moved away from the others until she stood alone, facing Nuala, and turned to look at Gwynith. "Will you dance with me this time?"
"I don't know the steps," Gwynith said.
Selena smiled. "Just follow me—and follow your heart."
"Is this dance only for the Ladies of the Moon?" Ashk asked.
Selena shook her head. "Anyone who wishes to honor the one who has left us can join this spiral dance." She turned away from the people watching, her arms extended, her palms up.
Power flowed, as soft as moonlight. Balls of white light filled Selena's palms. Tendrils of light twined down her arms and over the rest of her body until she glowed with the light of the moon.
Then she began to dance. Solemn and simple, just a few steps and a turn, over and over again. But as she moved, moonlight followed her, forming a path.
Rhyann stepped onto the beginning of the path, her steps matching her sister's.
He could feel the song of those steps, those solemn turns. "Follow me when you have the tune," he told the minstrels quietly. Raising his pipe to his lips, he let his music follow moonlight down the spiral path Selena created as she danced. A simple tune, repeated like the steps. When he glanced at the minstrels, they nodded, and harp and pipe joined him, taking up the melody while he let his own pipe's notes twine around it.
Ashk stepped onto the shining spiral, followed by Breanna . . . and Liam. Gwynith followed them, then Falco. Fiona and Rory. Gwenn and Donovan. Elinore took Keely's hand, and the two of them stepped into the dance. Sheridan and Morphia. Clay, Edgar, and Glynis. Varden. Squire Thurston and his wife. Kin and neighbors, humans and Fae, Sons and Daughters of the House of Gaian joined the dance. And last. . . Lyrra, her eyes wet with tears.
Finally Selena stood at Nuala's feet. She extended her arms again, palms up. Raising her face to the sky, her voice soared as Aiden let the last notes of the song fade.
"Great Mother, we give back one of your Daughters. Let earth take her body. Let air remember her voice. Let water remember her laughter. Let fire remember her heart. Let her spirit fly to the Shadowed Veil and pass through to the Summerland. She is no longer with us, but she will be remembered until she is back among us. Merry meet, and merry part, and merry meet again."
The ground in front of Selena swelled with moonlight, dazzling the eye. When it faded, there was a gentle mound of bare earth—and Nuala was gone.
As if hearing an unspoken command, people turned and walked out of the spiral until only Selena remained. Then she too turned and walked out—and moonlight filled in the path of the spiral dance, leaving a circle of light around the new grave.
After thanking the minstrels, Aiden tucked his pipe through his sash and joined Lyrra. He held her close and felt her shuddering effort not to cry.
"It was beautiful," she whispered.
He felt his throat close, felt the sting of tears. "Yes, it was. Come along, my heart, we have to help Breanna and her kin get through the rest of it." Slipping an arm around her waist, he led her back to the carriage.
Most of the mourners came back to the house to say a few words to Breanna and Keely and have a bite to eat. But even as they talked and ate, they kept glancing at the ever-darkening sky, and soon those with any distance to travel were saying their good-byes. Until all the nighthunters were destroyed, people wouldn't feel easy about being far from home at night.
Aiden wandered among the people still gathered on the back lawn, making a point to talk to the villagers and farmers who hadn't had any contact with the Fae yet. As he was making his way back to the house, a voice asked, "Bard?"
"Yes?" Aiden answered, turning toward an exhausted Fae male.
"Lord Aiden?"
"Yes."
The Fae pulled two pieces of wax-sealed paper out of his inner vest pocket. "I've a message for you from one of the northern bards. And a message for Baron Liam, but I don't know where to find him."
"I'll take it to him." Aiden held out his hand for the letters.
"Why don't you get something to eat? I'll talk to Lord Varden. He'll make sure you have a place to stay tonight."
Impatience mingled with dread as Aiden hurried over to the group of barons talking to Liam and Donovan.
"A message for you," Aiden said abruptly, handing over the paper addressed to Liam.
He hesitated before breaking the seal on his message. Noticed Liam did the same.
Then he read the message. "Mother's mercy."
"What is it?" Donovan asked sharply, looking from Aiden to Liam.
"Wait," Aiden said, looking around. "Hunter! Huntress!" When Ashk and Selena turned in response to his call, he signaled them to come over. Lyrra, catching the signal, said something to Fiona before hurrying to join them.
Liam looked at him. Aiden nodded.
"It's a message from one of the northern barons," Liam said. He cleared his throat quietly. "The Arktos and Sylvalan barons we were fighting in the north have surrendered. Or more to the point, the men they were leading put down their weapons and surrendered, leaving them no choice. The elders of the House of Gaian who were from the northern end of the Mother's Hills drafted the terms of surrender, which our barons seconded. The men are being allowed to return home. The Arktos barons and the Sylvalan barons who sided with the Inquisitors will be held until the army has disbursed. Then they'll be permitted to go home." Liam closed his eyes. His hand fell limply to his side. "That part of the fight is over. We've won that much."
"Did the baron say anything about captured Inquisitors?" Donovan asked.
"There were no captured Inquisitors," Ashk said softly. "Were there, Bard?"
Reluctantly, Aiden looked up from his own letter. "No, Hunter, there were not."
The barons around Liam muttered, but it was Donovan who expressed the outrage. "They escaped?"
Aiden shook his head. He glanced at Ashk—and remembered the chill that had gone through him after the dance the Bretonwood Fae had performed at the Summer Solstice, when those masked faces had stared at him. When her masked face stared at him. And Morag's words: They're the Fae.
"The Wild Hunt?" Ashk said, her voice still soft.
Aiden swallowed hard. "The Inquisitors who were caught were released in a woods, where the Lords of the Woods and the Ladies of the Moon were waiting for them. . . with packs of shadow hounds."
"Justice," Ashk said. "And vengeance. There is nothing quite so terrifying as trying to flee a shadow hound—or the Wild Hunt. The Fae were absent for too long, even when they were present. Now they have returned."
The barons shifted uncomfortably.
"Was there anything else in your message?" Liam asked after an awkward silence.
"Just something a minstrel reported overhearing," Aiden said, hoping Liam would understand the dismissive tone and let it go.
"Well?" Liam demanded.
"When the Arktos men were told their barons would be released once their army had gone back through the mountain pass between Sylvalan and Arktos, one of the men said 'we'll be waiting for them.' The barons assumed it was a sign of loyalty. The minstrel heard something different in the words."
"They hate their
own rulers," Selena said. "Hate them enough to kill them."
Aiden nodded. "The minstrel's opinion was that the barons might reach the mountain pass, but he doubted any of them would reach home."
"I wonder how long the Inquisitors still in Arktos will survive once the army returns home," Ashk said.
"Not long." Aiden carefully folded the letter. He might as well say the rest. "The bard who wrote the message to me witnessed the terms of surrender and said they were fair. But the elders from the House of Gaian told the Arktos men that if another witch in Arktos was harmed simply because she was a witch, they would bring down the mountains and bring in the sea."
Another awkward silence as everyone except Ashk avoided looking at Selena.
"It's not a bluff," Selena finally said. "If the Grandmothers gather and bend their will to it, they can do exactly what they said. And Arktos would be no more than a memory of a place." She looked around. "Would you have me lie to you? We are the House of Gaian. We are the Great Mother's Sons and Daughters. We are the Pillars of the World. It is not just Tir Alainn that answers to our will. This world answers as well. It has always been so. It will always be so. You cannot defeat air or water or earth or fire. As long as they exist, we will exist. And as long as we exist, as we will, so mote it be."
Quiet and troubled, the barons said good night. Aiden wondered how easily the barons staying with Liam would sleep, knowing the Huntress was also a guest in his house. He wasn't surprised that Ashk slipped her arm through Selena's as the two of them walked away.
"I'll say our good-byes to Breanna and find Gwenn," Lyrra said.
Donovan's smile looked a little brittle. Aiden almost asked him what was wrong—then remembered that Donovan was married to a witch.
"She's the same woman she was yesterday," Aiden said.
"I know," Donovan replied. "My darling Gwenn."
"We don't own the land," Liam said quietly. "We're just its stewards. It's humbling to be reminded of that."
"And it's troubling to be reminded that they're different from us," Donovan said.
Pricked by anger, Aiden tucked the letter into his sash, next to his pipe. "Are they really so different, Baron Donovan? You've never sat beside the bed of a witch whose body was so broken by torture there was no hope of healing. You've never listened to her plead with you to let her die. You've never buried the rest of her family and then listened to the screams of the ghosts when the nighthunters attacked. They have the power to shatter the world yet they still live by a creed to do no harm." He paused. "And maybe that does make them different from the rest of us."