Anne Bishop - The House of Gaian

"You have another task," Ashk said brusquely. "We need to move up companies of men to guard the road into the village. The villagers and the barons will listen to you. Sheridan, Varden. Do you know the low rise that borders the field with that tumble of stones?"

"We've both seen it," Sheridan said, looking at Varden, who nodded.

"Sheridan, you take the western huntsmen. Varden, you take the huntsmen from your Clan. I want that rise guarded. Now. The Black Coats' army has to move across that field or down the road in order to strike at the village or the Old Place."

"They're moving?" Liam said. "Are you sure?"

Ashk hesitated, then shook her head. "It's not something I know, it's something I feel."

"Messages from the spirits of the woods?" Selena asked.

Ashk jolted, too startled for a moment to reply. How — ? Of course . Selena must have heard the story about how the Fae came to be, just as Rhyann had.

"It is my gift that hears the warning, not my head," she said slowly.

Selena nodded. "Then it's a warning we should heed."

Liam shook his head. "We aren't sure the Black Coats are moving, but we are sure there was something close to the Old Place last night."

"It's easy enough," Donovan said. "I'll ride to the village and on to Squire Thurston's place to coordinate the defense of the village and the guarding of the main road."

"I'll go with Donovan," Aiden said. "I can take care of sending and receiving messages. Lyrra can do the same here."

"I—" Lyrra began to protest. She pressed her lips together, then took a deep breath and nodded. "All right. Yes, you're right. If the Bard and the Muse can't relay messages, no one can. Gwenn, Gwynith, and Rhyann can help me with that—and with keeping a record of any wounded who may be brought here."

Ashk walked over to her horse. As she swung into the saddle, she found comfort in the feel of a full quiver of arrows resting against her back. "Let's ride."

"The men are ready, Master Adolfo," the guard captain said.

"You understand your orders?" Adolfo asked as he sipped his wine. No sign of disapproval that he took wine so early in the morning. Not today. Never again.

"Yes, Master. One arm of the army will seize the village. The other arm will take possession of that low rise, set up the catapults, and crush the Fae and the other witch-lovers when they move against it."

"Let it rain fire."

"Yes, Master."

"But I must have some prisoners," Adolfo said firmly. "Males." He waited until the captain nodded. "You may tell the men one other thing. Today I will give fifty gold coins to every man who kills a witch."

"Fifty!" With effort, the guard captain regained his professional stance. "They'll kill every female they encounter in an effort to claim the reward."

Adolfo smiled. "Yes, they probably will. But the foul creatures I want are easy enough to identify. Most of them wear an ornament hidden beneath their clothing. A five-pointed star within a circle. Any man who brings me one of those ornaments—and the tongue of the bitch who wore it—will receive the gold."

He saw a glint of greed in the captain's eyes and did not disapprove of it.

"I'll tell the men," the captain said.

Tell the other captains , Adolfo amended silently. "Go on, then."

"We'll have the Old Place cleansed by nightfall," the captain promised.

"A pretty thought," Adolfo murmured as he watched the man leave with more haste than dignity. He drained his wine glass and set it aside. "A very pretty thought."

Breanna walked toward Nuala's grave, Keely a few steps ahead of her. Keely, still grieving and displaying an unshakable stubbornness, had insisted on walking to the grave that morning. The men who stood the last watch until dawn had already left since it was safe to leave the grave unattended in daylight. Clay, Rory, and Falco had agreed to ride into the village for supplies they'd run short of with so many people to feed. Fiona and some of the other women threw themselves into household chores with grim single-mindedness, but work hadn't provided solace for Nuala's daughter or granddaughter. So the two of them walked to the grave in order to touch the earth, feel the air.

A healthy walk, Nuala used to call it with a smile. It was that. For the first time since she'd found Nuala, Breanna felt a tightness in her chest and shoulders ease. Even in daylight, the grave glowed in its circle of moonlight. She wasn't sure if that light simply offered some comfort to the living or was protection for the dead, but she was grateful for this gift from the Lady of the Moon.

As they reached the grave, Keely stopped and cocked her head. "Do you hear something?"

No, she didn't, but her nose picked up an unpleasant smell in the air that made her uneasy. A . . . decaying smell. Not wanting to think about why she might be smelling something like that, she summoned a light wind and guided it over the crescent of rose bushes Nuala had planted years ago. Even though the bushes were trimmed every year, they were chest-high now, and, despite being so late in the season, there were still enough roses blooming to scent the air.

"I do hear something," Keely said. "There's someone behind the rose bushes, crying. It sounds like a child." She moved toward the bushes, altering her course to come around the nearest end.

Breanna wasn't listening. The wind had stirred the long grass on the bank of the brook, revealing a patch of red cloth for a moment. Puzzled, she walked toward the spot where she'd glimpsed the cloth.

"Hello?" Keely said, moving closer to the bushes. "Are you lost?"

A small sound. A click of pebble on stone. Breanna looked toward the bridge and saw the three riders, still distant, heading toward her. Liam, she thought affectionately. Coming for his daily brotherly inspection.

"Don't cry. You don't have to be afraid. Are you lost?"

Another click of pebble on stone. Another small sound, muted but still filled with agony. Dismissing Liam and his companions, she turned her attention back to the brook and moved closer.

Keely rounded the end of the crescent, stopped when she was close to the middle of it, and asked, "Who are you?"

Ashk reined in so hard and fast her horse almost tumbled over in its effort to obey. She patted its neck as both comfort and praise, but her attention was on the light wind blowing in her face.

Selena and Liam pulled up and looked back at her.

"Ashk?" Selena said.

"Can't you smell it?" A tremor went through Ashk's body. "That smell. That scent ."

Selena turned her face into the wind. "I don't—" She gasped, then twisted in the saddle to look at the Hunter. "It's coming from the direction of Nuala's grave. And there's someone near there."

"Breanna," Liam whispered. He whipped his horse into a frenzied gallop, leaving Selena and Ashk racing to keep up with him.

Get away from there, Breanna , Ashk thought as she rode recklessly toward the bridge. Get away from there !

Breanna felt her gorge rise as she reached the bank and looked down. Fear hammered in her chest, in her head.

Not a piece of red cloth. Part of a bloody arm. The small man had been ripped apart before the remains had been flung up on the bank, abandoned.

She saw other things now. Mangled bodies of water sprites caught among the stones. Blood still dripping over the stones into the water.

"Who are you?" Keely asked again, her voice now holding a touch of fear.

Blood still dripping over the stones. Breanna shivered.

Pebble on stone.

She whipped her head toward the sound so fast, she felt a muscle pull in her neck.

The water sprite clung to the rocks, her side nothing more than ripped flesh and broken bones. "Run, Breanna," she whispered. "Moonlight. Circle. Can't. . . touch . . . circle. Run."