Anne Bishop - The Pillars of the World

“You slaughtered the witches, who are our kin. We consider that harm.”

“The witches.” Adolfo’s lips curled back in a snarl. It always came back to the witches. Females with magic who men had to placate in order to survive. Just like the foul creature standing in his way.

Except he wasn’t some sniveling, powerless man. He was the Master Inquisitor, the Witch’s Hammer. He had cleansed the world of hundreds of witches. And here was this creature just staring at him as if he was something she could brush aside and forget.

One blow to the head. That’s all it would take to stun her enough so that she couldn’t use her power against him. That’s all it would take to change something dangerous into something helpless, something that was at his mercy. One blow. That’s all it would take. And the other blows that would follow would soften her for the cleansing.

He would pull her from that horse and throw her on the cobblestones. He would smash her head against the stones, smash her face against them—one time for every man she had taken from him. Then he would find a quiet room, a dark room where he could work with her. He would break her fingers, break her feet. He would make a new bridle with witch stingers that would not only pierce the tongue and cheeks but eyes and ears as well. And when he was through with her, when she was humbled and obedient to his every command, he would take her out to some lonely road and leave her there, blind, deaf, mute, and crippled. Then let her see how much power she had.

With a cry of rage, he threw himself at her.

The dark horse pivoted.

Adolfo stumbled, thrown off balance. His left hand brushed against the woman’s leg. He tried to grab her, tried to hold on, but his left arm suddenly went numb from fingertips to shoulder. Unable to regain his balance, he fell.

He lay there, breathing harshly.

“Remember what I said,” she said softly.

He rolled to his side and watched her ride away. Her dark horse made no sound on the cobblestones.

A bell on the dock began to ring, alerting passengers that the ferry was leaving in a few minutes.

People hurried past him. A couple of them hesitated when they reached him, but when he looked at them, whatever they saw in his face made them leave without offering to help him.

Slowly, painfully, Adolfo got to his feet. His left arm hung at his side, useless.

Leaving his traveling bag on the street, he stumbled to the dock, fumbled one-handed for the coins to pay for his passage. When he finally boarded the ferry, he went to the bow and stared straight ahead at the Wolfram shore.

He stared at his homeland’s shore for the entire journey—and never once looked back.

Flustered and furious, Dianna galloped down the shining road through the Veil to Brightwood.

She’d settle this with Lyrra once and for all. Just see if she didn’t. The gall of the woman! If one of the Fae staying at Brightwood hadn’t come up the road to tell her about Lyrra’s betrayal, when would she have known? When the road started to close ?

She burst out of the trees that bordered the meadow. A low stone wall was in front of her, one she hadn’t seen before. She jumped the pale mare over the wall, ignoring the shouts of the Fae working nearby as the mare trampled the young green plants growing in the turned earth. She jumped the wall near the cottage, then brought the mare to a scrambling halt just outside the kitchen door.

She pushed her way through the kitchen crowded with Fae, strode through the main room, and threw open the bedroom door.

Lyrra stared at her for a moment, then resumed packing her saddlebags.

“So it’s true,” Dianna said. “You’re really doing this.”

“Yes,” Lyrra replied calmly, “I’m leaving.”

Dianna slammed the door shut, and shouted, “How can you be so selfish? Don’t you realize what this means?”

Lyrra threw down the tunic she’d just finished folding and turned to face Dianna. “It means you’re going to have to keep your promise. It means you’re going to have to stay at Brightwood to be the anchor that helps the rest of the Fae here keep the shining road open.”

“ You’re the anchor. You’re the one who has some trace of the House of Gaian in you, which we need to hold the road.”

“And you’re the one who has the moon magic that will also hold the road. We tested that, remember?”

Dianna’s hands curled into fists. Of course she remembered, but that had nothing to do with anything. “You promised to stay!”

“I promised to stay a few days while you went back to Tir Alainn to pack the things you wanted to bring down to Brightwood. You promised to be back in a few days , Dianna. That was in the autumn. Now it’s spring. And now I’m leaving.”

“You’re needed here!”

Lyrra pointed toward the window that looked out onto the road. “I’m needed out there. My work is out there. Most of the Clans still don’t believe they need to do anything to keep Tir Alainn safe. I have to tell them. I have to convince them. Aiden’s doing everything he can, but he can’t do it alone.”

“Your work,” Dianna sneered. “Your work . You don’t need to be wandering around in the human world to do your work . This isn’t about your work , it’s about Aiden . You just can’t stand knowing he’s spending his time between other women’s thighs and not giving you a second thought.”

Lyrra’s eyes were blank and cold. “What he does is his own business. But he’s the Bard, and I’m the Muse. We have to get the Fae to understand that they can’t expect the House of Gaian to continue to shoulder the burden of Tir Alainn’s existence while they do nothing.”

“ They’re only witches !” Dianna shouted.

Lyrra’s eyes turned colder. “Yes,” she said softly. “I imagine that’s how we justified it all those generations ago. They were Fae, but they weren’t really Fae. They weren’t like the rest of us. And they weren’t. They were the Daughters, the wellsprings through which the Mother’s power flowed, the Pillars of the World.” She closed her eyes, turned away. “They owe us nothing. But we owe them. It’s time we paid that debt with something more than trinkets and stud service to breed the next generation.”

Lyrra took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then continued her packing. “I read the journals.”

“You had no right to look at them,” Dianna snapped. “Those were private journals that belong to Ari’s family.”

“Ari and her family are gone. There’s no one left to read them. Except us.” She fastened her saddlebags, then turned to look at Dianna. “A couple of journals seem to be missing. There were gaps in her family’s story.”

Why should I care about the journals ? Dianna thought. They’re not important now. If Lyrra doesn’t stay . . .

“If you’re so determined to leave,” Dianna said, “wait another day or two so that I—”

“Can make another promise you have no intention of keeping?” Lyrra shook her head. “Whether you leave or stay is up to you.” She started to say something else, then stopped and picked up her saddlebags. “Aiden has the horses saddled by now. He’s waiting for me.”

“Oh, yes,” Dianna said bitterly. “When Aiden snaps his fingers, you dance to his tune.”

Lyrra stared at her for a moment, then brushed past her, opened the door, and left the room.

Dianna waited until she heard the front door open and close before she walked out of the bedroom.