The House of Gaian ta-3

by Anne Bishop

  "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?"

  "I don't think it's my place to have an opinion, one way or the other," Aiden said mildly.

  Liam turned on the bench to look at Aiden directly. "You're the Bard. I had the impression you have opinions about most things."

  Aiden chuckled. "Is that your impression? Well, you might be right."

  "So?" Liam prodded when Aiden didn't say anything more.

  "So, yes, I think you're being an ass." Aiden glanced over and smiled before turning his attention back to his harp.

  Liam waited. "That's it?"

  Aiden stilled the harp strings, then cradled the instrument in his arms. "Love is precious, no matter how long it lasts. We sing the songs, we tell the stories, we glory in those moments when love begins. We sing the songs and tell the stories of love lost, of love offered and refused, of love betrayed. I suspect you're a man who feels deeply for the people he cares about, a man who wouldn't make a commitment he didn't intend to keep. You look at Breanna and see a woman who also has deep feelings, a woman who would honor her commitments in the same way you do. You look at Falco and remember stories about the Fae—and of love betrayed. You doubt his feelings because he's Fae and because you're afraid for Breanna's sake. But Falco isn't the brash Fae Lord he was a year ago, and Breanna is a strong woman, not a girl who would be swayed by a bit of romance. I see two people working toward a partnership rather than temporary lovers whose only interest in each other is what they find in bed."

  "I've only known her a few months," Liam said softly. "It feels like I've known her all my life, that she's always been a part of my life, but, in truth, I met Breanna at the beginning of this summer. Maybe I'm . . .jealous?"

  "Maybe."

  He sighed. "Selena thinks I'm an ass."

  Aiden laughed. "Then maybe you should spend less time thinking about Breanna and Falco and more time giving Selena a chance to change her opinion of you."

  "Maybe." Liam smiled reluctantly and rose. "I have a few things to do. I'm taking the early watch at Nuala's grave so that I can get some sleep tonight." He hesitated. "It's rather extraordinary, the way the grave still glows with moonlight. It's a beacon in the dark, but it also feels like a barrier against the dark things in the world."

  Aiden just looked at him for a long moment. "I suspect Selena is also someone capable of deep feelings for people, whether she's known them for a long time or not."

  Adolfo walked back into the clearing, followed by eager Inquisitors and wary guards. Hearing footsteps, the witch made muffled, distressed noises, but he ignored her, his attention on the cage.

  Alarm danced up his spine when he saw the broken cage bars—until he remembered the wood had snapped when he released the power. It wouldn't do to have these creatures loose among his own men. It wouldn't do at all.

  Then he heard wood cracking, saw the blankets shift as limbs pushed through broken pieces of the cage.

  "Quickly," he snapped. "Put the meat in the cage. Push it through that broken section."

  The guards moved forward cautiously, jumping back when the creatures screamed, having caught the scent of meat and blood.

  "Quickly!"

  The first guard approached, the body of a dead falcon tied to one end of a long tree branch. He thrust the branch through the bars.

  The cage rocked with the impact of the creatures lunging for the offered prey. Something snapped the branch. Sounds of fighting. Of bones snapping.

  "More!" Adolfo ordered. Two other birds that the longbow-men had brought down were thrust into the cage. Then a rabbit, recently snared and still barely alive, was shoved into the cage. Then a chunk of meat from the hind leg of a deer that had been fleeing from one group of men and had run into the middle of another pack of guards hunting to supply meat for the cookpots.

  Five meals, all smeared with a paste he'd made to put the creatures to sleep for a few hours. Long enough for the guards to get them close to the Old Place—and Baron Liam's estate.

  When the sounds inside the cage diminished to snarls and crunching bones, Adolfo took one of the branches, caught the edge of one blanket, flipped it aside, then did the same with the other blanket. He stepped back to admire what his power had wrought. One of the creatures was still transforming, and its leg revealed clearly what it had been.

  He turned and looked at the faces of the Inquisitors and guards. Shock. Revulsion. Fear.

  Smiling gently, he walked over to the witch. He fumbled with the blindfold before managing to pull it off. Leaning down, he whispered, "Look what your magic created."

  She just stared at him as he moved to one side, as frightened as the rabbit that had been caught in the snare.

  "Look," he said again, turning her head to focus her attention on the cage.

  She stared and stared. Then she screamed, the piercing, terrified sounds muffled by the bridle.

  Suddenly the screaming stopped.

  Leaning over her again, Adolfo studied the blank eyes, pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart still beat. She still breathed. But her wits had fled, and he wasn't sure they would return. Not a strong witch in any way. No matter. She could be used for one more spell before she became too worn out to be useful.

  One by one, the creatures inside the cage fell into a drugged sleep.

  "Swiftly, now," Adolfo said. "There's enough time to ride to the Old Place before they rouse from this sleep, but not much more time than that."

  The guards hesitated.

  "Move!"

  One guard pulled a knife from his boot sheath and sliced at one of the blankets until it could be ripped in half. Gingerly opening the cage, he took one of the creatures, wrapped it in half the blanket, and hurried out of the clearing to the spot where other guards held the horses.

  Three guards, following the example of the first, ripped the other blanket and bundled creatures into the pieces. The last creature in the cage was the one not fully
transformed. The guard hesitated. There was nothing left to wrap the creature in. His hands shook as he finally grabbed the creature and ran for his horse.

  Adolfo waited until the guards rode off. Then he turned to his Inquisitors and gestured toward the witch. "Take it back to a tent. Give it water. Feed it if it still has enough wits left to eat. Take care of it. I need it physically strong and healthy for another day or two. After that. . ." He shrugged. "The men will have another use for it."

  Aiden was already dozing off in the saddle as Minstrel crossed the bridge that would take them back to Liam's house. If he'd been riding another horse, he might have stayed at the Old Place after finishing his watch at Nuala's grave. But Minstrel knew the way to Liam's as well as he did, and he trusted the horse to get them there safely. Besides, if he didn't come back, Lyrra would worry about him and never get any sleep. And he didn't sleep as well if he didn't fall asleep holding her. Too bad they were usually so worn out that they didn't do much else when they fell into bed.

  Minstrel stopped so suddenly, Aiden wobbled in the saddle before regaining his balance. The horse's attention was focused on the fields.

  Reaching down to give the horse a reassuring pat, he felt the muscles quivering beneath his hand. Alarmed, he strained to see if there was anything out there in the dark. Nothing. But something was spooking Minstrel.

  Then he thought he heard a muffled cry of pain. Was someone in the field?

  He looked back toward the grave and saw two of the huntsmen moving toward the brook, their attention focused on the field as well.

  Horses galloping away. Not Fae then. He wouldn't have heard Fae horses. Humans who had lost their way in the dark and realized where they were when they saw the glow of moonlight around Nuala's grave? Possible. But Minstrel still trembled under his hand, and his own skin was starting to crawl.