The mare tried, but when her pace faltered, Dianna dismounted and ran the rest of the way to the cottage. Ari was back. Ari was safe. And so was the Clan and their home territory in Tir Alainn.
Lucian changed form and strode toward the cottage. He looked at the half-open kitchen door and stopped suddenly, giving Dianna time to catch up to him.
Oh, Lucian, try to act like a joyous lover instead of an angry man. We won and —
Morag opened the other half of the kitchen door and stepped out of the cottage.
Dianna felt as if she were falling off a steep cliff, waiting for the pain of hitting the ground.
“Where is Ari?” Lucian demanded, looking past Morag to see inside the kitchen.
“She’s gone, Lucian,” Morag said quietly.
“Gone?” Dianna echoed. “How could she be gone when she’d been captured by —” She felt the blood drain from her head, making her dizzy.
“The Black Coats,” Morag said, finishing the sentence Dianna had started. “And now she’s gone.”
“Bring her back,” Lucian said, his voice calm and deadly. “The Gatherer can summon a spirit back from the Summerland if it hasn’t been there very long.” The calm broke, turning to fury. “How could you have taken her without consulting us first?”
“Why should I have consulted you?” Morag asked. “It was not your decision to make.”
“Bring her back. She belongs here in Brightwood, with us.”
“Even if I could do that, where would her spirit go? Do you know where her body lies right now? I don’t.”
“Her spirit could reside as a part of Brightwood,” Dianna said.
“To feel the bite of every ax when wood was needed? To feel the cut of the spade when land was turned? Or would you have me bring back her ghost and leave it in the meadow? If her spirit doesn’t reside in flesh, would she be able to do what you want of her?”
“Then we’ll find another body for her to inhabit.”
“Whose?” Morag asked softly. “A spirit doesn’t leave a healthy body.”
“You could gather another person’s spirit and give the body to Ari,” Dianna insisted.
“Whose?” Morag asked again, looking so pointedly at her that Dianna broke into a sweat.
“You’re the one who took her without our consent. You’re the one who should make it right.”
Morag said nothing, but the coldness that crept into her dark eyes chilled Dianna.
“Bring her back,” Lucian said.
“Why?” Morag asked.
“Because she’s needed here. And because I care for her.”
Morag gave him an odd look. “Death can’t be cheated, but, sometimes, a bargain can be struck. Are you willing to bargain with me?”
“I’m in no mood for games, Gatherer,” Lucian warned.
“And I do not play games, Lightbringer. But, here and now, I will make a bargain.” Morag held out her hand. “Your life for Ari’s. If you go to the Summerland now, I’ll find a way to bring her back to Brightwood.”
“Fine,” Lucian snapped. “Bring her back, and I’ll consider it.”
Morag lowered her hand and shook her head. “That’s not the bargain.”
Shocked speechless for a moment, Dianna regained her voice — and her fury. “He’s the Lightbringer. How dare you demand such a thing from him!”
“That is the bargain,” Morag said implacably. “Lucian’s life in exchange for Ari’s. Either agree to it or accept that she’s gone and prepare to bring your Clan down to Brightwood to live.”
“No man would agree to a bargain like that when you’re standing there ready to accept it,” Dianna said bitterly.
“That would depend on how much the man cared.”
A thought occurred to Dianna. “Then why don’t you take that Neall in exchange for Ari? Surely, he’s a worthy enough sacrifice.”
“He is already gone.”
Dianna wanted to scream in frustration. Why couldn’t the man have lived a little longer so that his death could at least be useful?
Morag looked at Lucian. She held out her hand. “You were willing to destroy others for her sake. Are you willing to give yourself for her as well?”
The conflict showed clearly on his face, and Dianna felt it as keenly as if she were the one forced to make the choice. When he started to raise his hand, she wanted to cry out, wanted to tell him to stop. But she bit her tongue and kept silent.
His hand slowly rose toward Morag’s. It began to shake. Before his fingers touched hers, his hand froze, then fell back to his side. He looked away.
“Ari is gone, Lucian,” Morag said gently. “Accept it.”
Bitterness swelled in Dianna until there was nothing else. “In that case, since we have no choice but to live here, Brightwood now belongs to the Clan. And you are no longer welcome on our land. Nor will you ever be. And by the time I finish telling the rest of the Clans about how you betrayed the Fae, no Clan will be willing to receive you — including your own. Tir Alainn will be as closed to you as it is to us.”
Morag just turned and walked into the cottage.
Dianna stared at the open kitchen door. A few minutes later, Morphia came out and saddled the horses. As soon as she was done, Morag left the cottage. She tied her saddlebags to her dark horse, mounted, and she and Morphia rode away.
A sob rose in Dianna’s throat. She turned away from the cottage that would soon become her home.
And saw Lucian disappear into the woods, heading for the place where the shining road anchored itself in the strength of Brightwood.
For a moment, she was stunned. How could he just leave her here alone?
Then she shook her head. Someone had to tell the Clan what had happened and rouse them to prepare to leave Tir Alainn. She just hoped they would have enough time before the road through the Veil began to close.
Morag filled another sack with grain. At least the horses would have some feed besides the grazing, and there was no reason to let it rot.
The house and the stables had been empty when she and Morphia returned to Ahern’s farm. The housekeeper’s little cottage also stood abandoned. No one here would begrudge her taking what was needed simply because she had done what needed to be done.
Banish her from Tir Alainn? Have her own Clan shun her? The Huntress had enough influence among the Fae to do exactly that. She had expected something like that from Dianna — and Dianna’s solution for getting Ari back, while unexpected, hadn’t been surprising. There were stories about such exchanges, and she knew the power to exchange spirits between two bodies resided within her, just as she had the power to gather someone’s life strength and give it to another. That Dianna wanted her to relinquish her body so that Ari’s spirit could inhabit it wasn’t surprising either. Astra had been right: the Fae were very good at expecting someone else to shoulder the burden for them.
What had surprised her was how close Lucian had come to accepting her bargain. Perhaps he had cared more deeply than she’d suspected. But still not enough, may the Mother be thanked. If he had accepted the bargain, she would have fulfilled her part of it. She would have gone after Ari and brought the girl back to Brightwood, no matter what Neall thought or said. Now they were both safe, and, hopefully, no word of them would ever reach Lucian or Dianna.
“Blessings of the day to you,” a male voice said softly.
Morag turned toward the voice, not sure what to think when Aiden stepped inside the stables. “Blessings of the day to you.”
“Dianna’s very upset,” Aiden said, slowly walking toward her. “And Lucian as well. Understandably so.” He hesitated. “Was there nothing you could have done, Morag? Did we have to lose another Daughter from the House of Gaian?”
Morag studied him. He was a clever man with words, and that made her wary.
“Did you tell Dianna and Lucian about the Pillars of the World?”
Aiden nodded.
“If they had known before now who the witches were — and are ?
?? do you think they still would have expected Ari to oblige them, living a sterile life for their convenience and pleasure?”
He didn’t answer for a long time. “They would have expected that whatever they offered would be enough, regardless of whether or not it truly was. And they would have resented her as much as they would have needed her to maintain Tir Alainn once she was old enough to no longer bend to their wishes.”
Morag finished filling the grain sack and tied the opening securely. “Then things have worked out for the best.”
“Not for Ari.”
She heard the grief in his voice — and realized he wasn’t grieving for a lost piece of Tir Alainn. But he was a clever man with words. “She’s gone, Aiden.”
“So you told Dianna. And the young man, the one who loved her, is gone, too.”
“Yes.”
Aiden rubbed the back of his neck. “You took them to the Shadowed Veil yourself?”
“Yesterday I took a man and a woman to the Shadowed Veil. I saw them cross through it and go on to the Summerland. Together.”
He started to nod, then he frowned. “What happened to Ahern’s spirit? You didn’t leave him here, did you?”
She didn’t ask how he’d heard about Ahern. The Bard was sometimes capable of hearing far too many things. “I took him and Astra to the Shadowed Veil.”
“Astra? Who is —” He stopped. “You took Ahern and Astra to the Shadowed Veil.”
“Yes.”
“And Ari …”
“Is gone.”
Aiden sifted through the words. Morag knew the moment when he understood what she was saying.
“The bargain you asked Lucian to make wasn’t a fair one, Morag,” he said, looking extremely uncomfortable. “No man would have agreed to it while you were standing in front of him.”
“One man did.” She paused, and then added, “I didn’t need to take what was willingly offered, but it was offered, Aiden, not asked for.”
His eyes widened. Then he said, more to himself than to her, “So she did go with a man who could give her love’s jewels.”
Morag frowned at him. He just smiled and shook his head.
As he turned to leave, Morag said, “What will you tell Lucian and Dianna?”
“What can I tell them that is different from what you’ve already said? Ari is gone.” He raised his hand in farewell. “May you find firm roads and soft beds on your travels. And may the House of Gaian prosper,” he added softly, “wherever it may be.”
By the time Morag left the stables with the grain sacks, Aiden was already gone. Morphia was outside, trying to find the best way to tie food sacks to the saddles.
She looked at Morag, then shrugged. “They look clumsy now, but they’ll empty quick enough.” She fiddled with the saddle, not actually doing anything to it. “If you don’t mind, I’ll ride with you for a while.”
“What about your Lord of the Woods? Isn’t he waiting for you to return?”
A long pause. Then Morphia said, “I’ll ride with you for a while.”
Morag didn’t ask any more questions. She walked back into the stables, opened one of the stall doors, and picked up Merle. “Come on, little one. It’s time to go.”
She mounted her dark horse and adjusted the pup so that she could hold on to him comfortably. When she and Morphia rode away from Ahern’s farm — and Brightwood — she didn’t look back.
Chapter Thirty-three
They were gone, Adolfo thought numbly as he packed his meager belongings in a cloth traveling bag. During the slow journey back to Rivercross, he’d kept telling himself that his messages had gone astray, that that was the reason he’d had no replies, that his men would meet him here as intended. But they weren’t going to meet him here. They were gone. All the fine men, all the Inquisitors he had brought with him a few months before to rid this land of the stench of magic were gone. He hadn’t been able to find out what happened to them. Every time he asked about his men, he got the same response: The person would spit on the ground and make a sign against evil.
He’d like to meet the man who wrote that song about the Inquisitors, calling them the Black Coats, magicians of dark magic who were the Evil One’s servants, accusing them of creating the nighthunters that were plaguing several villages where Inquisitors had been.
The Inquisitors were the warriors against evil, the Evil One’s foe. And everyone was supposed to believe the witches had created the nighthunters to harm the good villagers. The creatures had been a necessary weapon in the fight to free the world of the foul stink of magic.
But the song haunted, and it had spread like fire from village to village along the border of Sylvalan.
Yes, he’d like to meet the man who wrote that song. He’d like the chance to cleanse that man’s spirit of the Evil One’s influence.
But first he would go home and rest. Rest and gather his strength and his other Inquisitors. Then, over the winter months, he would decide what to do.
Adolfo straightened his coat, picked up the traveling bag, and left the inn. The ferry that took people and goods across the river that separated Sylvalan from Wolfram would be leaving soon, and he didn’t want to miss it.
As he walked to the ferry station, he drew in a deep breath — and exhaled quickly, wrinkling his nose. The air smelled of dirty water, but underneath that was the first touch of autumn.
He would be glad to leave this hateful land and return to his home country where there was order and men were the masters. He would be glad to return to a place that treated Inquisitors with the respect and deference due them.
As he turned the corner of the short, cobblestoned street that led to the ferry station, he saw the black-haired woman on a dark horse blocking the way to the dock.
He trembled, but he forced himself to walk toward her.
“Get out of my way,” he said in a commanding voice that, nonetheless, shook a little.
“I have a message for you,” she said.
“Then deliver it and be gone.”
She looked at him a long time. “The Fae are returning to the Old Places. We are reclaiming the land that has always been ours. As long as we are left in peace, the humans have no reason to fear us. If we are not left in peace …”
The warning hung in the air between them.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” Adolfo said, his breathing becoming harsh, ragged. “You killed my men.”
“It was the only way to stop them from doing more harm,” she said quietly.
“Harm!” Adolfo stared at her. “Harm! We came here to free men from the chains of magic that keep them servants instead of the rightful masters of their world. We did no harm.”
“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 h
is 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.
Chapter Thirty-four
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.