by Nora Roberts
The memory of the kill, of that first hot spurt of life gushing into his mouth, riding down his throat, was glorious.
Shaking like an addict in the throes of withdrawal, he fought it. He would not end it this way. He would not go back to being a prisoner of his own blood.
He was stronger than that. Had made himself more than that.
His belly cramped with need and nausea as he leaned toward Larkin. “Put down here. Stay in this form. Be ready to fly again, to leave me if you need. You’ll know.”
It dragged at him, that cursed ground, as they lowered toward it. It murmured and sang and promised. It lied.
The heat was in him like a fever as he leaped down. He would not, he swore, he would not turn himself and kill a friend as he’d once tried to kill his brother.
“It’s this place. It’s evil.”
“I told you not to change forms. Don’t touch me!”
“I feel it inside me.” Larkin’s voice was calm and even. “It must burn in you.”
Cian turned, his eyes red, his skin slicked with sweat from his inner war. “Are you stupid?”
“No.” But Larkin hadn’t, and didn’t now draw a weapon. “You’re fighting it, and you’ll beat it back. Whatever it is this place calls to in you, there’s more. There’s what Moira loves.”
“You don’t know the hunger of it.” Deep in his throat a groan waited. It hummed in Cian’s ears, and with it, he could hear the beat of Larkin’s pulse. “I can smell you, the human.”
“Do you smell fear?”
Shudders ran through him, hard enough he thought his bones might crack to pieces. His head was screaming, screaming, and still he couldn’t block out the sound, the vicious temptation of that beating heart.
“No. But there could be. I could bring it into you. Fear sweetens it. God, God, what sick hand forged this place?”
His legs wouldn’t hold him, so he lowered to the ground and struggled to tighten his slippery grip on his will. As he did, he closed his fingers around the locket she’d put around his neck.
The sickness ebbed, just a little, as if a cool hand had stroked a fevered brow. “She brings me light, that’s what she brings to me. And I take it, and feel like a man. But I’m not. This is a hard reminder that I’m not.”
“I see a man when I look at you.”
“Well, you’re wrong. But I won’t drink tonight, not from you. Not from a human. It won’t swallow me tonight. And it won’t take me like this again, now that I know.”
The red was fading from his eyes as he looked up at Larkin. “You were a fool not to draw a weapon.”
In answer, Larkin lifted the cross from its chain.
“It might have been enough,” Cian considered. He scrubbed his sweaty palms dry on the knees of his jeans. “Fortunately for us both, we don’t have to test it.”
“I’ll take you back.”
Cian looked at the hand Larkin offered. Humans, he thought, trusting and optimistic. He took it, pulled himself to his feet. “No, we’ll go on. I need to hunt something.”
He’d won the battle, Cian thought as they rose into the air again. But he wouldn’t deny he was relieved to be heading away from that ground.
And he was darkly thrilled when he spotted the movements below.
A dozen troops, he noted, on foot and moving with that fluid swiftness of his kind. For all the speed, there was a precision to it, an order in the ranks that told him they were trained and seasoned soldiers.
He felt the shift of the dragon’s body when Larkin saw them, and once again Cian leaned down.
“Why don’t we try out Glenna’s newest weapon? When they cross the next field, fly directly over the center of the squad. They’ve got archers, so once the shit hits, you’ll have to go into evasive maneuvers.”
As Larkin flew into position, Cian reached into the harness pocket and took out the ball.
How is a dragon like a plane? he considered, and put his centuries of experience as a pilot to use gauging airspeed, distance, velocity.
“Bomb’s away,” he murmured, and let the ball drop.
It smashed into the ground, causing the baffled squad to stop, draw weapons. Cian was about to chalk Glenna’s experiment up to a loss when there was a towering burst of flame. Those closest to it were simply obliterated, while a few others caught fire.
Watching the panic, hearing the screams, Cian notched an arrow. Ducks in a barrel, he mused, and picked off what was left.
Once again Larkin touched down, and changed. “Well.” He kicked carelessly at a pile of ash. “That was quick.”
“I feel better for having killed something, but it was detached, impersonal. Human style. Doesn’t have the same kick as a true hunt. Same reason we don’t use guns or modern weaponry,” Cian added. “There’s just no thrill in it.”
“I’m sorry for that, but the results of it suit me well enough. And Glenna’s fireball worked a treat, didn’t it now?”
Larkin began to gather the weapons scattered over the ground. As he bent down, an arrow whizzed over his back, and planted itself in Cian’s hip.
“Oh well, bugger it! I must have missed one.”
“Take the harness.” Larkin tossed it at Cian. “And get on.”
He flashed to dragon, and since he considered the arrow might slow him down a little on foot, Cian vaulted up. He caught the next arrow in the air before it could strike. Then Larkin was rising and diving and swerving.
“There, I see them. Second party entirely. Likely a hunting party looking for stray humans or whatever comes to hand.”
He used the bow again, taking out a few as they scattered and took cover.
“It’s just no fun this way,” he decided. Drawing his sword, he leaped off Larkin and dropped thirty feet to the ground.
If dragon’s could curse, Larkin would have turned the air blue.
They came at Cian like the points of a triangle, two male, three female. He sliced the arrow coming at him in two with his sword, then spun the blade back to block the oncoming attack.
The dregs of what he’d felt on the battleground were in him, and he used them. That need for blood, if not to drink, then to shed it. He fought at first to wound, so he could smell it—the rich copper of it, and ride on it as he hacked and sliced.
The dragon’s tail whipped down, slapped one of the females back as she lifted her bow again. Then its claws raked at the throat.
To amuse himself, Cian flipped back, shot a vicious kick into the face of an opponent. When it stumbled he took its head even as he yanked the arrow from its hip and plunged it into the heart of the one coming from his left.
He spun around, saw that Larkin had changed and was ramming a spent arrow in the heart of the last one.
“Is that it then?” Larkin said breathlessly. “Is that the last of them?”
“By my count.”
“And you counted so well the last time.” He rose, brushed himself off. “Bloody dust. Are you feeling more yourself now?”
“Top of the world, Ma.” Cian rubbed absently at his wounded hip. Since it was pouring blood, he ripped off the sleeve of his shirt. “Give me a hand, will you? Quick field dressing.”
“You want me to bandage your arse?”
“It not my ass, you git.”
“Close enough.” But Larkin walked over to see to it. “Drop your drawers then, sweetheart.”
Cian spared him a single dark look, but obliged.
“And what do you think Lilith’s mood will be when not a one of her raiding or hunting parties comes back?”
“She’ll be pissed.” Cian craned his head to watch Larkin’s work. “Royally.”
“Makes a body feel good, doesn’t it? You’ll have a fine hole in your bum for a bit.”
“Hip.”
“Looks like your ass to me. And I’m hungry enough to eat a donkey, hide and all. Time we went back, had ourselves a meal and a tankard. There, you’ll do. It was a good night’s work,” he added when Cian pulled his pants up
again.
“Turned out that way. It could have gone otherwise back there at the valley, Larkin.”
Philosophically, Larkin pulled up some clumps of grass to wipe most of Cian’s blood from his hands. “I don’t think that’s the truth of it. I don’t think it could have gone any way but what it did. Now if your ass isn’t too sore, you’ll help me gather up all these nice weapons to add to our supply.”
“Leave my ass out of it.”
Together they began to gather swords, bows, arrows. “I’m sure that portion of you will be fine again shortly. If not, Moira’ll kiss it well for you when they arrive.”
Cian looked over as Larkin whistled a tune and loaded swords in the harness. “You’re a funny guy, Larkin. A damn funny guy.”
In Geall, Moira walked away from the crystal to stand at the window with her arms folded. “Am I mistaken in it, or were they not told to go check the bases, take no risks?”
“They disobeyed,” Blair agreed. “But you’ve got to admit it was a good fight. And that fire ball was excellent.”
“The delay’s a little concern.” Glenna continued to watch as they flew back toward base. “I’ll work on that. I’m a little more worried about the effect the battlefield had on Cian.”
“He fought it off,” Hoyt replied. “Whatever tried to take hold of him, he fought it off.”
“He did, to his credit,” Glenna agreed. “But it was hard won, Hoyt. It’s something we have to think about. Maybe we can work a charm or spell that will help him block it.”
“No.” Moira spoke without turning. “He’ll do it himself. He’ll need to. Isn’t it his will that makes him what he is?”
“I suppose you’re right.” Glenna studied Moira’s rigid back. “Just as I suppose the two of them had to go out tonight, and do what they did.”
“That may be. Are they back safe yet?”
“Coming in for touchdown,” Blair told her. “And all’s quiet on the western front. Well, eastern front, but that doesn’t have the same literary ring.”
“Quiet for the moment.” Moira turned back. “I think it’s safe to say they’ll be tucked up for the night now, and it’s unlikely there’ll be another raid on the base. We should all get some sleep.”
“Good idea.” Glenna gathered up the crystal.
They said good night, went their separate ways. But none of them went to bed. Hoyt and Glenna went to the tower to work. Blair headed to the empty ballroom to train.
Moira went to the library and pulled out every book she could find on the lore and legend and history of the Valley of Silence.
She read and studied until the first light of dawn.
When she slept, curled in the window seat as she’d often done as a child, she dreamed of a great war between gods and demons. A battle that had raged for a century, and more. A war that had spilled the blood of both until it ran like an ocean.
And the ocean became a valley, and the valley became Silence.
Chapter 17
“Sinann, you should be in bed still.”
With her hand resting on her belly, Sinann shook her head at Moira. “I couldn’t let my father leave without seeing him off. Or you.” Sinann looked around the courtyard where horses and dragons and men were preparing for the journey. “It will seem so empty now, with so few of us left inside the walls.” She managed a smile as she watched her father hoist her son high in the air.
“We’ll come back, and the noise will be deafening.”
“Bring them back to me, Moira.” The strain began to leak through now, through her eyes, her voice. “My husband, my father, my brothers, bring them back to me.”
She took Sinann’s arms. “I’ll do everything in my power.”
Sinann pressed Moira’s hand to her belly. “There’s life. Feel it? Tell Phelan you felt his child move.”
“I will.”
“I’ll tend your seedlings, and keep a candle lit until you all come home again. Moira, how will we know? How will we know if you…”
“You’ll know,” Moira promised. “If the gods don’t send a sign of our victory, then we will. I promise. Now go kiss your father, and I’ll kiss all your other men for you when I see them.”
Moira moved to her aunt, touched a hand to Deirdre’s arm. “I’ve spoken with the men I can leave with you. My orders are clear, simple and to be followed exactly. The gate stays locked, and no one leaves the castle—day or night—until word comes that the battle is done. I count on you as the head of my family who remains here, to see these orders are followed. You are my regent until my return. Or in the event of my death—”
“Oh, Moira.”
“In the event of my death, you will serve until the next rightful ruler is chosen.” She pulled off a ring that had been her mother’s, and pushed it into Deirdre’s hand. “This is a sign of your authority, in my name.”
“I’ll honor your wishes, your orders and that name. I swear it to you. Moira.” She gripped her niece’s hands. “I’m sorry we quarreled.”
“So am I.”
Though her eyes were wet, Deirdre managed a tremulous smile. “Though we both part here believing we had the right of it.”
“We do. I don’t love you less because of it.”
“My child.” Deirdre held her close. “My sweet girl. Every prayer I know goes with you. Come back to us. Tell my sons they have my heart and my pride.”
“Sorry.” Blair touched Moira’s shoulder. “Everything’s ready.”
“I’ll say goodbye to you.” Deirdre stepped forward to kiss Blair’s cheeks. “And trust you’ll keep my eldest out of trouble.”
“Do my best.”
“You’ll need to. He’s a handful.” She opened her mouth to speak again, then took a steadying breath. “I was going to say be safe, but that’s not what warriors want to hear. So I’m saying fight well.”
“You can count on it.”
Without pomp or pageantry, they mounted horses and dragons. Groups of children were gathered, clucked over by the women who remained behind. The old leaned on walking sticks, or the arms of the younger.
There were tears glimmering. While they might look through the mist of them to loved ones leaving them behind, Moira knew they looked to her as well.
Bring them back to me. How many had that single desperate wish in their hearts and minds? Not all would have that wish granted, but she would—as she’d sworn to Sinann—do her best.
And she wouldn’t leave them or lead them with tears.
Moira signalled to Niall who would lead the ground force. When he called for the gates to be raised, she lifted the sword of Geall high. And leading the last of the troops from Castle Geall, she shot an arc of fire into the pale morning sky.
The dragon riders arrived first to mobilize the troops. They would abandon the first base to begin the next leg of the march to the battlefield. Supplies and weapons were packed, and men were taken up on dragons, or onto horses when they arrived. Those who went on foot were flanked by riders—air and ground.
So they traveled across the land and the skies of Geall.
At the next stop they rested and watered their mounts.
“You’ll have tea, my lady.” Ceara joined Moira near a stream where dragons drank.
“What? Oh, thanks.” Moira took the cup.
“I’ve never seen such a sight.”
“No.” Moira continued to watch the dragons, and wondered if any of them would see such a sight again. “You’ll ride with your husband, Ceara.”
“I will, my lady. We’re near ready.”
“Where is the cross you won, Ceara? The one you’re wearing is copper.”
“I…” Ceara lifted her hand to the copper cross. “I left it with my mother. Majesty, I wanted my children protected if…”
“Of course you did.” She wrapped her fingers around Ceara’s wrist and squeezed. “Of course.” She turned as Blair strode toward them.
“Time to round them up. Mounts are rested and watered. Supplies and
weapons are packed, except for what we’re leaving behind with the squad that’ll hold this base until tomorrow.”
“The troops behind us should arrive well before sunset.” Moira looked to the skies. “Do they have enough protection if there’s a change in the weather. Natural or otherwise?”
“Lilith may have some snipers and scouts scattered this far west, but nothing the troops can’t handle. We have to move on, Moira. Leap-frogging this way keeps soldiers from being exposed and vulnerable at night, but it takes time.”
“And we’ve a schedule to keep,” Moira agreed. “Give the order then, and we’ll move on.”
It was well past midday when the first of them arrived at their final destination. Below where she flew, men stopped and cheered. She saw Larkin come out of the house, lift his face. Then change into a dragon to fly up and join them.
And she saw the dark earth of fresh graves.
Larkin circled her with a quick, showy flourish, then paced himself to Blair’s mount. Moira lost her breath when Blair stood on her dragon’s back, then sprang off into the air. The cheers from below rose up like thunder as Blair landed on Larkin, and rode him down.
Like a festival, Moira thought, as other riders executed showy turns and dives. Perhaps they needed the show and the foolishness for these last few hours of daylight. Night would come soon enough.
She would have seen to her own mount as she had along the way, but Larkin plucked her off her feet, gave her a whirl and a kiss.
“That doesn’t sweeten me up,” she told him. “I’ve a bone to pick with you. You were to travel, gather reports and secure. Not go out looking for trouble.”
“We do what we must when we must.” He kissed her again. “And all’s well, isn’t it?”
“Is it?”
“It is. He is. Go inside. There are plenty here to see to the mounts. You’ve had a long journey. No trouble along the way, Blair says.”
“No, none.” She let him lead her inside.