by Anne Bishop
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. How 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.
He wouldn't run. Curse whatever shivered through him, he wouldn't run. But. . .
Almost without thought, driven by something he could barely control, he cut between two companies of men and rode toward the tumble of stones.
They came
down the rise in terrifying silence. Silent horses, silent hounds. That was the way of the Wild Hunt. Only the horn gave the warning that the Fae were out riding to hunt.
They came down the rise with their bows drawn, but the first line of men who froze when they caught sight of them fell before the first arrow was loosed, clutching their heads or throats, dropping weapons as stones shot from slings broke hands or wrists. The second line fell from arrows flying out from the trees.
Then she was down amongst the enemy, letting her bow sing Death's song, turning her horse to cut a straight path toward the tumble of stones while the shadow hounds pulled men down, ripping open a leg or tearing out a throat before racing on to the next prey.
Men scattered, ran toward the shelter of the trees and were met with arrows and stones.
Ashk glanced to her right and saw the V of the other Wild Hunt—and saw several men fall before an arrow could touch them. Good. Morphia had joined the hunt. Yesterday, the Sleep Sister had worked with the healers to ease the suffering of the wounded. Today, she would use her gift to put some of the enemy to sleep, making it easier for the huntsmen to deal with the others.
The human companies poured down from the center of the rise, keeping the Hunt from being surrounded as it continued toward the stones.
Then an arrow struck her horse in the chest. It was more luck than skill that she managed to land on her feet when she threw herself out of the saddle.
"Hunter!" One of the huntsmen slowed, reached out a hand for her.
"Go on!" she yelled.
They flowed around her, giving her a breathing space. She reached back—and touched her last arrow. Unbuckling the harness, she dropped bow and quiver beside her dead horse, then crouched, waiting for the last of the huntsmen to pass by her.
When she could see again, she cursed viciously to herself. Mother's tits, Liam! Don't you ever listen?
He was in the field, fighting with a short sword now, outmatched by the guard captain, who had a longer sword and the benefit of training. Liam took a wrong step, lost his footing. As he went down, the guard captain raised his sword for a killing blow—and was struck by an arrow in the throat.
Well done, Varden, Ashk thought as she looked back toward the rise. But it wasn't Varden nocking another arrow, it was Breanna taking aim at the next man who came near her brother while a hawk, a vixen, and a whoo-it owl did their best to protect her back.
She understood Falco going into the field with Breanna, but she was going to have a talk with the Bard and the Muse when this was over. What did they think a fox and a whoo-it owl could do in the middle of a battle? The two of them had more courage—or more compassion—than sense.
She half rose from her crouch, then froze at the sight of more companies of men running out of the trees at the far end of the field. She glanced back at the rise, but there were no more fresh companies of men coming over the top to join the battle, no more Fae. Mother's mercy, how many more men did the Witch's Hammer have?
Then she realized they weren't running to join the battle. They were fleeing.
She couldn't move, could barely breathe when she saw the dark horse burst out of the trees, saw those men fall in waves as the horse and rider caught up to them, cut through them.
The Gatherer had come.
"Liam!" Breanna screamed.
He turned toward Breanna, unaware of the danger riding straight at him.
"Go!" Ashk shouted. She changed into a shadow hound and charged Liam. He saw the movement and had started to turn to meet it when she slammed into him, sending his sword flying as they hit the ground.
She spun around, crouching over him, her fangs bared as the dark horse came closer, closer. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Breanna running back toward the rise, followed by the hawk, vixen, and whoo-it owl.
And she saw Morag—and what Morag had become.
For one long, painful moment, their eyes locked. Then the Gatherer rode past her, turning the dark horse toward the center of the field at the same moment Selena, with moonlight streaming around and behind her, came over the rise, followed by the Sons and Daughters of the House of Gaian.
Not the Huntress, Morag. Not Selena. Mother's mercy, not Selena.
She barely noticed Liam shoving her off him, barely noticed the fighting still going on in the rest of the field. All she could see was Selena galloping toward the stones, the enemy fleeing ahead of her—and the Gatherer galloping toward Selena.
Selena raised her hand and the pairs of riders broke formation, shifting to become a staggered line with her in the lead. She swung to the left, taking the line with her. Dark horse and gray passed each other with barely any daylight between them.
Morag rode on, turning back toward the trees at the far end of the field. Selena continued her wide curve around the stones. As she rode, with Rhyann behind her, a circle of moonlight and fire began to form. Wind whipped around the stones, splintering arrows before they could touch the riders.
She changed back to her human form and stood up.
"Ashk?" Liam said warily. "What's happening?"
"Can you move?" she replied, evading his question. When he nodded, she retrieved his sword and handed it to him. "Let's go."
She walked back to her horse, picked up her bow and quiver, and headed for the stones, not even looking back to see if he followed, terrifyingly aware that she and Liam were the only people alive in that part of the field.
The last rider following Selena swung into place, completing the circle. They circled again. And once more. The ground trembled. The wind howled. Lightning slashed the sky, bringing with it a brief cloudburst of rain. And fire ringed the circle made around the stones.
As the last circle was completed, Selena swung left again, turning Mistrunner sharply back to face the stones. The others swung out of the circle and went past her, turning back until they formed a crescent with Selena at its center.
Selena raised her arms. The cloudburst ended. Moments later, the sun shown down upon the field. And still moonlight glowed around the circle, forming a barrier.
"Witch's Hammer!" Selena shouted. "Show yourself, Master Inquisitor, or someone else will bargain for you!"
Nothing happened. There were plenty of men moving among the stones, but no one answered. Finally, a cloaked, hooded figure appeared.
"What are you to think you can bargain with me?" a growling voice shouted back.
"I am vengeance—and I am justice. You tried to reshape our world to your own liking—and you have failed. We stand, and we will always stand. We are the Mother's Daughters. We are the Mother's Sons. We are the Pillars of the World. We are the House of Gaian. And we are going to grant your wish. You and your followers are exiled from this world, Inquisitor, but we will give you another to shape as you will." Selena raised her arms higher. "I call earth!"
"We call earth!" the Sons and Daughters repeated.
"I call air!"
"We call air!"
"I call water!"
"We call water!"
"I call fire!"
"We call fire!"
Power flowed into the circle. Flowed and flowed.
"By the light of the sun, by the light of the moon, by the four branches of the Mother, we make a world beyond this world, anchored to it but never a part of it. We make it out of dreams and will." Selena pointed at the Witch's Hammer. "As you will, so mote it be."
The ground shook. Lightning flashed. The fire that formed a circle rose so high Ashk could no longer see the stones.
The power swirled inside the circle. Swirled and swirled.
Then, with a tremendous thunderclap that knocked Ashk to the ground, it was gone.
Chapter 52
waning moon
Adolfo slowly got to his feet and looked around. Stone. Nothing but stone. And a spear of gold and silver light no thicker than a fist touching the stone a man's length in front of him and rising up, up, up until it disappeared somewhere in that vaulted ceiling of stone.
&nb
sp; He didn't like that light. Hated that light. It felt… clean… and repulsive. He moved away from it. He had no trouble seeing. Fire burned among the stones, and the air reeked with the smell of sulfur. He tore off the cloak that now felt too hot and confining and went searching for the water he could hear trickling nearby. It spilled out from a crack and pooled in a hollowed stone that formed a basin. Bending over, he lapped the water. It tasted of blood, of gore, of rotting bodies. Delicious.
He heard voices below him, saw the rocks piled together to make rough stairs leading down into the stones and the fire.
"What happened?" asked one frightened voice. "Where are we?"
"Where's Master Adolfo?" another voice said. Then, shouting, "Master! Master Adolfo?"
He walked down those rough stairs, moving toward the voices.
"Where are we?"
"It's— Mother's mercy! This is the Fiery Pit! We've been thrown into the Fiery Pit!"
There is no Mother here, Adolfo thought. Only the Master. Only. . .
Hunger.
He followed the curve of the stairs, stopping when he saw them. Wolfram barons. Sylvalan barons. Guard captains and bowmen. His . . .
Meat.
. . . Inquisitors. His…
Feast.
. . . followers. He would show them the glory of the world he'd created for them. He would show them he was …
Hunger.
… was …
An Inquisitor looked up, saw him, and screamed, "It's the Evil One!"
He laughed as he watched them flee, running deeper and deeper into the Pit.
Feast.
He followed them deeper into the Pit. And he hunted.
Frowning, Selena studied the sky above the stones. The Black Coats and their followers were gone, so the magic had worked, but where was the anchor of light?
One by one, the Sons and Daughters rode away from the stones to help the humans deal with the prisoners and find the wounded until only Rhyann stood with her. Then Ashk joined her… and Liam.