Anne Bishop - The House of Gaian

She nudged Selena and scrambled back to the top of the rise. Liam stood there, his face bruised and dirty, his left sleeve soaked with blood, the fingers of his right hand still sending out little drops of fire that seared the grass around his feet as he fought to ground the power he'd summoned.

Selena reached the top of the rise, clamped her teeth around Liam's right wrist, and dragged him down the other side far enough to be out of sight of the enemy longbowmen.

Ashk stopped as soon as she was safe, changed back into human form, and collapsed. Her muscles screamed in protest, but she crawled the arm's length needed to peer over the rise.

The enemy was retreating, heading back toward the cover of the trees on the other side of the field. She looked toward the road. Yes, men were retreating there, too. They'd held them off, but they hadn't won. Would never win until they'd dealt with the Master Inquisitor once and for all. But there was time now for the rest of the Clans and companies of men scattered around Willowsbrook to reach this place.

Her throat tightened as she looked at the bodies in the field, some moving but more laying still. She saw a stag struggle to its feet and begin its painful way toward the rise, hobbling on three legs. And she saw the arrows pierce it—arrows from the enemy longbowmen who had taken up position in the tumble of huge stones. She bared her teeth as other wounded, trying to make their way to safety, were shot down.

She rose to her hands and knees, snarling when a strong hand pushed her back down.

"You've done all you can today," the man said, dropping down beside her.

"I'll do what needs to be done," she snapped.

"You already have."

Impotent rage filled her as she watched more wounded fall. "Mother curse them! May their land and their women be barren for a hundred years."

"Do you really mean that?" he asked quietly.

She turned her head to say something cutting—and saw the pentagram hanging from a chain around his neck. And was suddenly afraid of what might happen if she said yes to this Son of the House of Gaian.

She looked away. "No. The Black Coats and the barons who followed them in the name of greed and ambition deserve whatever comes to them. But not the men and women who just want to live free of fear. Not the children. Not the land." She hesitated, then added, "Do no harm."

He nodded. "But even within the words of our creed there is room for justice, and justice can sometimes be harsh."

Not knowing how to respond to that, she focused on the low-voiced argument going on behind her and shook her head. "Don't waste your breath, Selena. He's gentry and he's a baron. The only way you'll get your point across is to nip him so that he's reminded of it for a week every time he tries to sit down."

"Is that what you do with your man?" the Son asked.

"On occasion. When he needs it."

He grinned, then sobered as he looked out over the field again. "Fog."

"What?"

He nodded toward the field. "A heavy fog. If we blanket the field, their longbowmen will be blind. We can go out and help the wounded to safety."

"If they're blind, so are we. Anyone going out too far could end up walking right into the enemy."

"Would you rather leave them out there?"

Ashk shook her head.

"Problem is, fog is even harder to hold than a storm. We can create it, but it will drift. It's well into the afternoon now. By dusk, there will be banks of fog as far back as the Old Place. But I think it's our best chance."

"What's our best chance?" Selena asked, coming up behind them.

"Fog," Ashk replied.

Selena considered this and nodded. "It will drift, but that's not a bad thing. The Black Coats haven't been here long enough to know the lay of the land. I don't think they'll be anxious to move men when they can't see if they're about to tumble down a creekbed or walk into a tree."

"We'll take care of it," the Son said.

Selena studied him. "My thanks. In that case, I'm going to take Liam back to his house to get his arm sewn up. He stands there bleeding like a stuck pig and insists he's fine. The jackass."

"Thank you very much, Lady Selena," Liam said stiffly. "It's always a pleasure to discuss things with you."

"Just nip him," Ashk muttered.

"I heard that."

"You were meant to."

"You'll go with them," the Son said.

Ashk gave the man a cool stare. "I'll decide when to go back to the house."

"Which is now because you're a sensible woman who needs food and rest in order to prepare for what will come tomorrow. You're only annoyed because you know I'm right."

Ashk looked at Selena, who shrugged. Studying the Son, she said, "Have you spent much time among the human gentry?"

He shook his head. "Do you think I need lessons in persuasive speaking?"

"No, I think you could give them."

Ashk stepped out of the house. The Son had been right about the fog drifting. It was eerier somehow when it parted suddenly, providing a clear view for a few seconds before drawing a veil back over the land. But it had hidden the men who had gone into the field to search for the wounded, and they had brought back more than she dared hope for. Many of the Fae were too hurt or dazed or frightened to change back to their human form, but as one human told her when he walked up to the house with a Fae in his arms, it was easier to carry a fox than a man.

So many wounded. So many dead. She was grateful to Gwenn and Lyrra for making a record of the men arriving, writing down names and Clans or a human's home village. It had helped to see the names of those who had come back to them, even if they were wounded. And it helped to receive copies that had been sent from the other gentry houses who were taking in wounded.

But it squeezed her heart to see how many names were missing. Clay had lost an eye but had managed to get back to the village on his own. But Rory was missing. Squire Thurston had lost his right leg below the knee and was being nursed in his own home. But no one remembered the last time they'd seen Donovan. Varden had come through the battle unharmed, but Sheridan was missing.

And no one had seen Falco. Or Aiden.

She tensed when she heard the door open, then forced herself to relax. There were no enemies here. She didn't have to guard her back.

Morphia stepped up beside her. "I wish they hadn't made the fog."

"It was needed," Ashk said quietly.

"I know, but. . ." Morphia wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. "I didn't tell you everything about the dream I had last night. I couldn't. I still can't."

"Why not?"

"I told you something terrible was coming, and it is. I know it. I can feel the echo of it from the dream. But I can't tell you what it is because my mind won't let me see it."

A fist of dread settled in Ashk's stomach. "Is there anything you can tell me?"

"Only that it will come among us shrouded by fog. And it hunts."

"It was a damned fool thing to do," Donovan said in a low voice roughened by exhaustion and pain.

"You've mentioned that already," Aiden replied, keeping his own voice low in the hopes the sound wouldn't carry.

"But I'm grateful. Have I mentioned that, too?"

"Several times."

"Will you write a song about it? The Bard's Rescue of the Baron?"

Aiden snorted softly. "That'll be good for two verses and a chorus, if that."

Donovan was quiet for a moment. "They were close. I could hear them moving around in the fog, searching for survivors. For prisoners, they said. If you hadn't found me, I'd be in the hands of the Black Coats now."

"I didn't find you, I tripped over you. If I hadn't, I would have walked right into them. So we both have reason to be grateful." He would never forget those tense minutes when he lay sprawled in the road next to Donovan, who was desperately trying to stifle moans of pain, realizing they both might have the misfortune of meeting the Master Inquisitor. And he would always be grateful for Minstrel's uncanny sense of direction. Twice the horse had balked when he'd tried to turn him, so he'd finally given Minstrel his head and let the horse choose where they were going. What Minstrel couldn't see, he could smell and hear, and he seemed to know if the sounds or smells belonged to friend or foe.