Anne Bishop - The Pillars of the World

“She could have broken the ice beneath the feet of whoever attacked her and drowned the bastards,” Morag said fiercely.

Ari’s eyes widened.

Struggling not to let the rage inside her escape, Morag took a deep breath, let it out slowly. “Ari, on most days your creed is a commendable way to live. But there is a great difference between doing no harm and defending yourself. I have shown too many young women the road to the Shadowed Veil because they followed your creed. For them, it was already too late to say anything. But you . . .”

“I—I’m not sure I could do that. I’m not sure I could use magic to harm someone, even if—”

“Do you love Neall?” Morag demanded.

“Y-yes.”

“If someone was trying to hurt him, would you just stand by and let him suffer or would you do something?”

Ari didn’t answer.

Morag sighed. “Where is your grandmother?”

“This way,” Ari said in a subdued voice.

They didn’t speak on the way to the hill. Even the animals were subdued, picking up the changed mood.

The moment Morag set foot on the bottom of the hill, she knew. But she said nothing.

When she reached the top of the hill, a light breeze played with her hair and made the wildflowers dance.

“Even on the stillest day, there’s always a little wind on this hill. This was Gran’s favorite spot.”

“Her gift was air?” Morag asked.

Ari nodded, then looked at Morag anxiously.

The ghost of an older woman smiled at them, then pressed one finger against her lips.

“There is no one here,” Morag lied.

“Thank you.” Ari sighed in relief. Then she smiled. “We should get back to the cottage. I left the stew on the back of the stove where it would just simmer, but it will be done by now.”

Morag followed Ari. Before leaving the crest of the hill, she looked back and whispered, “I will return.”

Yes , the ghost replied. There are things to be said .

“That’s all the messages said?” Dianna asked impatiently, her eyes raking Lyrra and Aiden, then skipping past Lucian. Ever since he’d learned of Ari’s intended marriage, his brooding had taken on a surly quality.

“The bards from several Clans have all basically sent the same thing,” Aiden replied, his own patience sounding strained. “Which makes sense since the Sleep Sister is the source of all of the messages. The witches know the key to keeping the roads through the Veil open, and they need to be protected.”

“Well, it’s a little hard to protect them when they blithely decide to run off with some . . . human .”

“They aren’t Fae,” Lyrra said carefully. “They can’t be expected to think like we do. Or care about the same things we do.”

Dianna whirled around to face Lyrra. “But it’s not too much to expect them to show a little heart. If Ari leaves, this part of Tir Alainn will be lost—and the Clan with it. He doesn’t need her. We do. And one way or another, she’s going to stay here.”

“That explains what’s threatening our part of Tir Alainn,” Aiden said. “But that doesn’t explain the rest. We need to find out why the witches are leaving the Old Places, and we need to find out how they’re connected to the Pillars of the World. Because I’m sure there is some connection.”

“I can’t tell you about the Pillars of the World,” said an unfamiliar voice, “but I can tell you why the witches are leaving the Old Places.”

Dianna turned toward the intruder. “This is a private—” A chill went through her when she saw the black-haired woman standing in the doorway.

The woman entered the room, carefully closed the door, then walked toward them, her black gown fluttering around her in a way that made Dianna’s skin crawl. Stopping before she was close enough to touch any of them, her dark eyes traveled over each of them.

“Who are you?” Dianna asked, knowing already . . . and hoping she was wrong.

“I am Morag,” the stranger said. “The Gatherer.”

Silence settled around the room.

“Why are you here?” Dianna said, not realizing that her voice had gone shrill until Lyrra gave her a sharp, warning look.

Something flashed in Morag’s eyes so fast Dianna couldn’t identify it.

“I came seeking the Bard, the Huntress, and the Lightbringer. I came seeking answers.” Her eyes pinned Aiden to his chair, then swept over Lucian and Dianna. “And I came to give a warning. The Fae have to protect the Old Places and the ones who live there. If they don’t, soon there will be nothing left of Tir Alainn.”

“At the moment, it seems you have one more answer than we do,” Aiden said. “Why are the witches leaving the Old Places?”

“Because,” Morag said softly, “they’re being slaughtered.”

Dianna sat with her hands clenched in her lap, unable to think of anything to say. What could anyone say after listening to Morag’s tale?

“Who are these Inquisitors?” Lyrra finally asked. “Where did they come from?”

“Arktos, maybe,” Aiden said thoughtfully. He narrowed his eyes. “Or Wolfram. I think the roads through the Veil started closing there first.”

“And then they spread like a plague against magic,” Lyrra added, brushing her hair back wearily. “It certainly explains the songs and stories we’ve heard lately. It’s so much easier to stand by and let someone suffer if you’ve been told they’re evil.”

Dianna sat up straight, excitement coursing through her. “But if some of the witches fled before the Inquisitors could capture them, all we would have to do is find them and bring them back to an Old Place. Then the road through the Veil would open again. There might still be Fae who survived.” She slanted a look at Morag. “You did say you weren’t sure what happened to the Clan when the mist covered that part of Tir Alainn.”

“No, I don’t know what happened to them,” Morag replied too calmly. “But you’ve given no reason why any witches who have survived in Arktos or Wolfram—or even in the eastern part of Sylvalan—would want to return to an Old Place and let anyone know they still live.”

“Why wouldn’t they be willing to return if the Fae are willing to protect them?” Dianna asked.

“I must go,” Morag said abruptly, rising from the bench. “I’ve done what I’ve come for.”

Dianna and the others exchanged a startled look as Morag walked out of the room. Seeing the way her gown fluttered like tattered black shrouds made Dianna jump up and follow.

“Morag,” Dianna called. She suppressed a shudder when the Gatherer turned to face her. I am the Huntress. I am the female leader of the Fae. There’s no reason why I should fear her. She, too, answers to me. And there is no one better suited to take care of this . “There is something you can do that will save this part of Tir Alainn.”

He fears the shining roads , Morag thought sadly, feeling the tension drain from the dark horse when he was back in the human world. Has feared them ever since we barely escaped having one close around us. Even in a place like Brightwood, where the magic is so strong, he no longer trusts that the roads will be safe. And each time we’ve taken the road to the Shadowed Veil, it’s been harder for him. The day will come when fear will rip something from his heart that can never be restored. But if I choose another dark horse and leave him, it would break his heart. There has to be a way to let him go without hurting him.

Where two trails in the woods met, the dark horse firmly headed for the one that led to Ari’s cottage.

“No,” Morag said, turning him toward the other trail. “There’s something we have to do first.”