by Anne Bishop
"I don't see the anchor," Selena said quietly. Steam rose from the ground inside the circle—ground that was now cracked and barren.
"There." Ashk pointed to a glow barely visible among the stones.
"But"—Rhyann shook her head—"it's going down. Why would it go down?"
A chill went through Selena. "Dreams and will. His dreams. His will. He made the world he wanted. Mother have mercy."
"Vengeance and justice," Ashk said. "You gave him both, Huntress, in a way no one else could have."
Selena turned to look at Liam, who stared at her with unreadable eyes. "I am sorry the anchor had to be placed here." She hesitated. "Your people should build a wall just beyond the circle. What was made here… I don't know what would happen to anyone who stepped onto that barren ground or climbed among those stones."
"When all the bodies are given back to the Mother, this will be a field of the dead. I don't think anyone will go near those stones after what happened here today, but we'll build the wall."
Aiden and Lyrra rode up on Minstrel, followed by Breanna and Falco on another horse. Aiden helped Lyrra slide down from behind him before dismounting. Hand in hand, they came forward. "It's done?"
Selena nodded. "The Witch's Hammer and his followers are gone."
Morphia rode up, followed by a few of the Fae. She gave them a brilliant smile, her face lit with happiness and relief as she dismounted to join them. "Ashk! Morag's here. Did you see her? I only caught a glimpse of her as she rode back into the trees, but she's here."
Selena felt Ashk shudder. Then Rhyann said, "Selena," in a quiet, tense voice.
She heard a muffled cry of fear, watched men scatter, leaving a clear path for the dark horse that walked toward her.
"Morag!" Morphia called. Then, puzzled and a little fearful, "Morag?"
Selena saw Aiden and Lyrra rush over to Morphia. She heard Liam whisper, "Mother's mercy." And she felt Ashk walk away as Morag dismounted and walked closer to them.
Morphia's face crumpled in disbelief and horror. "Morag!"
Selena grabbed Rhyann's arm, pulling her sister behind her. An illusion of protection, nothing more. But Morag stopped a man's length in front of her. She saw something savage in those dark eyes, something that would ride through villages and leave nothing but empty corpses in its wake. But the woman Morag must have been was also shining out of those dark eyes, pained and so weary.
I have the power to shape a world beyond this world, but I don't know how to change this. I know nothing that can change this.
"What do you want, Morag?" she asked gently.
One tear spilled down a dark, leathery cheek. "I want to go home."
Silence.
Then…
"Merry meet, and merry part, and merry meet again."
A moment caught by the eye, frozen by memory.
Morag, standing straight and tall, turning toward that voice.
Ashk, waiting, the bow drawn back, her eyes clear and yet filled with a terrible grief.
Then the arrow sang Death's song. Pierced the chest. Found the heart.
And Morag fell.
"Noooo!" Morphia screamed as Aiden struggled to hold her back.
Ashk dropped her bow, moved forward slowly.
"How could you?" Morphia screamed. "How could you?"
Ashk stared at the body. "I promised to do what needed to be done."
Mist rose from the body, took the shape of a slender, lovely woman.
Morag turned to look at her sister. Raised a hand in farewell to Aiden and Lyrra. When she looked at Ashk, she smiled.
"You'll be missed," Ashk said softly. "Don't stay away too long."
Morag raised her arms. Her ghost changed into the shape of a raven. As she flew toward the shimmering road that suddenly opened in the field, Selena watched ghosts flow up the road behind her as Morag led the spirits of the dead to the Shadowed Veil for the last time.
Before Selena could say anything, do anything, Ashk turned away from all of them and started walking toward the rise.
Ashk reached the top of the rise before Breanna caught up to her.
"Ashk! Ashk!"
Ashk stopped walking, but didn't turn to look at her.
Breanna reached out but didn't touch. Ashk looked like a woman about to shatter. She knew how that felt. "She shouldn't stay in that field, Ashk. She shouldn't be buried near that. . . place. Where should we take her to give her back to the Mother?"
Ashk swallowed hard. "Morphia is her sister. It should be Morphia's choice."
"No," Breanna said slowly, "I don't think so." She waited until Ashk looked at her. "You freed Morag from what she'd become, for her sake. Morphia would choose a place that gives her comfort, but you'll choose a place that's right for Morag."
Ashk clenched her hands, and Breanna watched strength battling grief. Finally, Ashk said, "Somewhere in the Old Place. A spot where there are shadows and light."
"As you will, so mote it be," Breanna said.
She watched Ashk walk down the other side of the rise. Alone.
Chapter 53
waning moon
Ashk took a deep breath to steady herself before knocking on the guest room door. "Morphia? It's Ashk."
She waited a long time before she heard a muffled, "Come in if you must."
She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her—and simply watched in silence while Morphia packed her saddlebags.
"Where are you headed?" Ashk finally asked.
"I don't know yet. Maybe back to the home Clan for a while."
"If you can wait a couple more days, you can ride with—"
"I don't want to ride with you, Ashk." Morphia's hands clenched around the camisole she'd just folded. Sighing, she shook it out, refolded it, and tucked it into the saddlebag before looking at Ashk. "I don't want to ride with you, Hunter. You did what you thought was right—and maybe it was. But you didn't give it a chance. If I'd had another moment or two to collect myself, I could have put her to sleep for a while—at least until the witches had a little time to discover if they could have changed her back."
A moment or two, Ashk thought bleakly. You might not have had that moment or two. If she lost control of what was inside her for even a heartbeat of time, you could have ended up dead. Worse than dead. Would you have wanted Morag to fight her way back to clarity to find your torn body, to find no trace of your spirit, knowing what must have happened to it? But she couldn't say those things to the woman staring at her with dark, grief-filled eyes.
Morphia shook her head and went back to packing her saddlebags. "Maybe if Sheridan had lived . . . Maybe when enough time has passed . . . But right now, Ashk, when I look at you, all I see is the person who killed my sister. So I don't want to travel with you. I don't want to be in the part of Sylvalan where you rule. There's work to be done in the world. I'll find a place to do it."
"Safe travel, Morphia," Ashk said as she opened the door.
"Ashk." Morphia hesitated. "For Morag's sake, and in her memory, I wish you gentle dreams."
Ashk bolted out of the room, turned blindly down the hallway, and ran straight into Aiden.
He caught her arms to keep them both from a tumble. When he saw the door, still partially open, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and led her to the room she shared with Gwynith. She was grateful Gwynith wasn't there and wished desperately that Padrick was.
"Liam asked us to stay for the council meeting tomorrow," Aiden said. "He seems to think my writing is neater than his, and he wants to be sure the other barons can read the decisions that are made without stumbling over half the words. You're staying, too?"
Ashk nodded. "I'll leave after the meeting." I want to go home. The words echoed in her head, in her heart.
"You'll be heading back to Bretonwood?"
She nodded again.
"In that case, if you don't mind the company, Lyrra and I will travel with you for a while."
"Your company is always welcome, Bard.
"
After giving her shoulder a comforting squeeze, he left her.
She stared out the window for a long time, not really seeing anything. Finally she stretched out on the bed and did something she hadn't allowed herself to do. She cried.
Breanna sat on the bed, feeling awkward as she watched Fiona pack. "You're welcome to stay. You know that."
Fiona joined her on the bed and rested a hand on Breanna's cheek. "I know, darling Breanna. We all know that. But the Hunter knows where Jennyfer and Mihail found safe harbor, so his wife and daughter will travel with her as far as the western bay and take a ship from there. And the rest of us . . . We have to go back."
"You don't know what you'll find there. You don't know if there's anything left."
"Then we'll start again. Build again. And one day our ships will sail down the Una River and out to sea again. But whatever we find there, it's still home. We need to reclaim what was ours."
"I understand."
Fiona's brows drew together in a worried frown. "You're welcome to come with us. You don't have to stay here alone."
Breanna forced herself to smile. "I won't be alone. Clay, Edgar, and Glynis will still be here." Neither of them mentioned Falco, who had made a fumbling excuse about needing to do something before riding away an hour ago.
Fiona went back to her packing. "You'll write to me on a regular basis, just to let me know how things are going."
"Yes, I will." Breanna stood up and hugged her cousin. "I'm glad you were here."
When she went outside a little while later, she found Falco sitting on the bench beside the kitchen door. He sprang up as soon as he saw her.
"Breanna? Could we talk?"
Why not? she thought, suddenly weary. She sank down on the bench. He sat on the other end—the polite distance required between strangers. Were there some standard phrases gentry women used when a lover was trying to say he was leaving? She'd have to ask Elinore so she'd be prepared next time. If her heart was ever willing to risk a next time.
"Breanna, maybe it's too soon, all things considered, but. . ." He reached down, picked up a basket, and set it between them. "I got this for you."
She lifted the cloth folded over the top of the basket—and stared at the sleeping black puppy. She wanted to run her fingers over that soft fur, but she couldn't quite bring herself to touch him.
"Squire Thurston's bitch had a litter," Falco said. "He wasn't going to keep them. And since he's pretty sure the wild oats the bitch got into came from here, I thought. . ."
"Wild oats?" Breanna asked, bewildered. "From here? What kind of. . . Oh." She looked at the puppy again, and her throat tightened. But she still hesitated to pet him.
"I thought he'd be company for you, once winter sets in. And I thought you'd like him better than a salmon."
"Better than—" Remembering the condition of the salmon he'd brought her, she grabbed the puppy out of the basket and cradled him against her chest. "Falco! You didn't fly over there and snatch him, did you?"
"Fly? Snatch?" Falco's eyes widened. "No. I rode over with the basket. Just got back a little while ago."
"Oh." It wasn't so hard to cuddle the puppy, who was content to be petted back to sleep. "I thought. . . after everything that's happened, I thought you'd grown tired of this world and were going back to Tir Alainn." Where it's peaceful. . . and safe.
After a long silence, he asked quietly, "Do you want to live in Tir Alainn?"
She didn't have to think about it. "No."
"Then I'm staying. I love you, Breanna. And I think. . . I think Willowsbrook needs us."
She heard it again. The same hesitation and uncertainty she'd heard when he'd finally shown himself to her in human form. He was looking for some assurance that he had a place in the world.
Smiling, she held out her hand. "Yes, Falco. Willowsbrook needs us. Both of us."
The following morning Aiden set two fresh stacks of paper at one end of the dining room table at Liam's house, made sure the quills were sharpened and the ink bottles filled. He and Lyrra would make notes of this barons' council, then combine them into one document for Liam's review and approval.
He looked at Donovan, who sat in a cushioned chair to his left. "Are you sure you should be out of bed?"
"If I didn't get out of that cursed bed, I'd either have to strangle Gwenny or have an affair with the cook. The woman has taken a fiendish delight is serving me chicken soup for two out of three meals."
"The cook?"
"No," Donovan growled. "My wife."
Aiden coughed to disguise his laughter.
Looking sulky, Donovan turned to Liam. "You've had news from the west?"
"I'll tell you when we're all gathered," Liam replied, fingering the folded sheet of paper.
To distract Donovan—and satisfy his own curiosity—Aiden asked, "You've had news as well, haven't you, Ashk?" She looked more exhausted now than she had during the days of the battle, so he was relieved to see a little color in her face again.
"From Padrick," Ashk said, smiling. "He and the children are well. And Ari gave birth to a strong, healthy boy. Padrick says Neall is hiding his disappointment in not having a daughter by wearing a silly grin, walking into walls, and generally making so much of a nuisance of himself that the Clan's Lady of the Hearth has taken to locking him out of the cottage for a couple of hours every day so that Ari and the babe can get some rest. Of course, since he sounds too sulky to be complaining just on Neall's behalf, I suspect Uncle Padrick has also been locked out of the cottage on a regular basis."
"That's wonderful news," Lyrra said, having paused in the doorway to listen. As she walked to her place at the table, she pointed at Aiden. "You should write a song."
"You should write a poem," he countered.
"We'll collaborate," she said primly, taking her seat.
Aiden leaned close to her and whispered, "We did that quite well last evening."
Watching her color rise, he busied himself with examining his quills, fully aware of the interested, and speculative, glances the barons were giving Lyrra as they walked into the room.
Ashk took her seat at the table, followed by Selena.
The table had been pushed to one side of the room so that chairs for the surviving barons who had fought at Willowsbrook could be placed in rows facing the table. Fae Lords and Sons of the House of Gaian stood against the wall, and two chairs were set to one side for Breanna and Elinore. The barons had argued that their council should be private while they decided the fate of the eastern counties ruled by the barons who had followed the Inquisitors, but Liam had insisted that the Fae and the witches should be present if they so wished since they would be affected by any decisions made here.
When everyone was assembled, Liam opened the piece of paper. "I have a message from Padrick, Baron of Breton. You are all free to examine the contents."
One of the barons waved the offer away. "Just tell us what it says, Liam."
Liam cleared his throat. "Recognizing that the fate of Sylvalan would have to be decided swiftly once the battle was won and that it would be better not to delay such discussion by waiting for those who would require days of travel to reach us here, Baron Padrick states that I have been granted a proxy vote—for all the western barons."
Stunned silence.
Aiden made hurried notes. If his understanding was clear on the way the council worked, Liam's vote counted for more than the rest of the men combined.
When no one made any comment, Liam folded the paper and set it aside. "Shall we begin?"
The door to the dining room opened. Aiden glanced up and dropped his quill, spattering ink all over the top sheet of paper. Pushing the paper aside, he retrieved the quill and dipped it in the ink pot.
"Oh, my," Lyrra whispered.
Her hair was pinned up in a becoming fashion instead of scraped back in a tight knot, and her gown was as finely made as any gentry lady's, but Aiden had no trouble recognizing Skelly's sweet granny. And t
he way Breanna and Selena leaped to their feet when she entered the room made him very nervous.
"Grandmother," Selena said.
The Crone smiled at Selena and Breanna. "Granddaughters."
"Take my seat, Grandmother," Breanna said, touching the back of her chair.
The Crone sat down and folded her hands in her lap. Her eyes touched every man in the room before they fixed on Liam. "The Crones have discussed what has happened in Sylvalan. Since I am the one who lives closest to this place, I have to come to tell you what has been decided."
"Begging your pardon, Lady," one of the barons said. "But it is up to the barons to decide what happens to the land owned by-"
"You do not own the land." Her voice cut like a knife. "You have never owned the land. The Great Mother is held by her Sons and Daughters. It has always been so. It will always be so. We granted your people stewardship over portions of the land, giving you a place to live in your own way, just as we set aside portions of the land for the Fae and the Small Folk and the wild things of the world. Stewardship, Baron. Stewardship. You do not own the Mother."
Aiden wrote frantically, part of him fearful of what she was going to say and another part hoping she wouldn't object if he shaped those words into a song.
"This is what we have decided. The barons in the west, in the midlands, and in parts of the north, south, and east will retain stewardship of the lands they now hold. But the land that was held by the barons who followed the Inquisitors is forfeit. All of it."
A swell of protest rose from the barons, cut off abruptly when Liam raised his hand.
"Wise of you, Grandson who is also a baron."
Aiden wrote frantically, aware that Lyrra was scribbling just as fast.
"The land is forfeit. However, we recognize that your people have already suffered much, and turning them off the land they have worked would be cruel and unjust. Therefore, they may stay if they wish—but under the rule of the House of Gaian.
"Sons and Daughters who are willing to leave their homes in the Mother's Hills will take up stewardship of those lands. The boundaries of the Old Places will be walked again. The land will be reclaimed as a home for the wild things and the Small Folk— and the Fae. Other Sons and Daughters who have the strength and skill will do what they can to reopen the shining roads and free the Fae who were trapped there. This is what we have decided."