Tir Alainn - The House Of Gaian - Tir Alainn - The House of Gaian Part 13
Library

Tir Alainn - The House of Gaian Part 13

Aiden. "They're a pair, aren't they?"

"Yes," Aiden said softly, "they're a pair." And he wasn't sure he'd sleep easy tonight if he started thinking about the journey he was about to make with two women who embraced Death, each in her own, but equally deadly, way. He gave himself a mental shake. They were exactly what Sylvalan needed for the fight ahead.

"Well, then," Murtagh said.

Aiden shifted his foot and nudged Taihg's boot. The other bard jerked, stared at him blankly for a moment, then jumped to his feet.

"My Clan would be pleased to have you guest with us tonight," Taihg said.

Murtagh smiled and shook his head. "You just want another target available

in case either of those two become annoyed about something."

'True," Aiden said, pitching his voice over Taihg's stammered protest. "But if you decide to stay, I can promise you'll hear a new song or two."

Murtagh laughed. "You set a mean bargain, Bard, but it's not one I'll

refuse."Good, Aiden thought, picking up his harp. Of course, he fully intended to hear a few of the songs Murtagh knew, since he suspected many of those "old" songs had never been heard beyond Selkie Island, but there was no reason to mention that.

It hunted. Vicious. Almost mindless. Hungry. It hunted.

She raced through the trees at Bretonwood, desperate to find It before ...

The rattle of a pony cart's wheels on a forest trail. A baby wailing in fear.

She saw Ari looking back, terror turning the young witch's face into an almost unrecognizable mask.

Flesh. Blood. Souls. Food. It hunted.

She ran. Ran and ran and ran.. . and still couldn't find the enemy. How could she get between It and the ponycart if she couldn't find It?

Closer. Closer. It could hear the female's raspy breathing, even over the baby's cries.

She ran faster. The enemy was too close to those she loved. Too close.

A stag hidden among the trees leaped out, landing in the center of the forest trail.

For a moment, she thought he was the old stag, thought this was the memory of that terrible leap that had saved a boy from the nighthunters. But this stag was younger, blue-eyed, the build not yet as mature and powerful as it would one day be, the rack of antlers smaller than the one she remembered.

Food!

The stag charged, fought with antlers and hooves. Screamed in pain as claws sank into shoulder muscles, ripping, tearing. Screamed as sharp teeth pierced the throat, and It gulped the blood gushing from the wound. More.

More. It wanted more. Its insatiable hunger always wanted more. First the blood. Then It would devour the soul.

No!

She stood on the forest trail. She couldn't see the enemy. All she could see

was the stag crumpled in front of her, dying. She watched as the stag changed back into a man. As the blue eyes dimmed, Neall gasped one word: "Morag."

Gasping for air, Morag flung herself out of bed and stumbled to the window, clawing at the shutters to get them open. She sank to her knees, clinging to the windowsill as she worked to steady her breathing. Her heart pounded in her chest, racing ahead of the fear that threatened to consume her.

It was the third time she'd had this dream. The first time had been the night

before she left Bretonwood with Ashk. She'd lain awake the rest of that night, too frightened of what might be waiting for her if she fell asleep again.

The next morning, as they were getting ready to leave Bretonwood, she'd

almost asked Morphia if she had sent the dream.

But the Sleep Sister wouldn't have shaped a dream like that and sent it to someone she cared about, and certainly not to her own sister.

Unless it was a true dream, a warning of danger.

But how could she protect Neall and Ari when she didn't know what the

enemy looked like? How could she recognize what she couldn't see?

Feeling brittle, Morag pushed herself to her feet, then staggered over to the wash basin. She poured water into the basin, dipped her hands into the

soothing coolness, and splashed her face. When she felt steadier, she straightened up, letting the water drip down her face and neck.

After that first time, she had almost convinced herself that it had been

nothing more than a bad dream conjured up from the depths of her mind and cobbled together with images of some of the frightful things she'd seen since the Inquisitors came to Sylvalan last summer. If it had come to her only that one night, she might have dismissed it as nothing more than that. But... three times. No, she couldn't dismiss a dream that returned to haunt her.

So. Danger was coming. Something that terrified Ari. Something that would kill Neall if she couldn't stop it. But there was the babe in the ponycart to consider. Ari still had several more weeks before the babe was due. There was time to continue the journey with Ashk and give the Hunter whatever help she could before she turned back and returned to Bretonwood.

Morag went back to bed and sank into restless, but dreamless, sleep.

Chapter 9.

new moon Liam rubbed his hands over his face, then leaned back in his chair to stare at

the sheet of paper on his desk.

No matter how he tried to look at the situation, it always came out the same: Willowsbrook had six guards who served under the village magistrate. Six men who were trained in weapons and fighting to protect the village and surrounding farms. Six.

His father had thought it extravagant to have so many guards for a village the size of Willowsbrook. In a way, the old baron had been right. It did seem an excessive number of men to handle the occasional drunken brawl on market day and to make sure arguments between neighbors were brought before the magistrate instead of having something small escalate through acts of petty vengeance into violence. Now ...

How could he protect his people with only six guards? If he added his gamekeeper and the two men under him, that gave him three more men who were skilled with a bow. Not enough. Not nearly enough if the Inquisitors gathered an army to crush the barons who wouldn't yield to their view of the world.

He could ask Breanna's kin to stand with his people. The men now living in the Old Place who were skilled with a bow would double the fighting force, and a couple of them even had some skill with a sword. But that would leave the Old Place, and the women there, vulnerable if the enemy had enough men to split their forces, one half keeping his fighters occupied while the other went to devastate the Old Place.

He could command the magistrates in every village in the county he ruled to send him half their compliment of guards. That would swell the ranks of fighters, but it also would leave those villages with little protection, and the additional men still wouldn't be enough, not when every baron who supported the Inquisitors could gather as many men and combine them into an army.

Great Mother, what am I supposed to do? How can I protect my people, my friends, my family? How can I- A footman burst into the room. "There's a rider coming! Coming fast.

Sloane thinks it's Squire Thurston's son."

Liam bolted from the room and rushed to the open front door, where Sloane, his butler, watched the rider galloping toward the manor house. Squire Thurston's oldest son was one of the gentry youths who were riding the roads these days to keep watch around the village and outlying farms.

They'd all been given strict orders not to approach any strangers. If they saw anyone, they were to ride to the nearest home and give a warning before riding on to warn the magistrate.

He stepped outside, Sloane following him. If Thurston's son was heading

here, that meant the manor was the closest house. And that meant...The youth galloped up to them and reined in hard, setting his horse on its haunches.

"Riders coming!" he shouted, despite being almost on top of Liam.

"How many?" Liam asked, trying to ignore the heat that washed through his body.

"I counted twenty men and two coaches."

"Any idea which way they came from?"

'The village ... I think."

Which meant the magistrate was already aware of the strangers and would

summon the guards. Not that they would arrive in time to do anything but bury the dead.