Tir Alainn - The House Of Gaian - Tir Alainn - The House of Gaian Part 50
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Tir Alainn - The House of Gaian Part 50

Ashk turned her head and studied Rhyann. "What do you command, Rhyann? What branch of the Mother is your primary gift?"

"All of them."

Stunned silence.

Rhyann shrugged. "It is not common among us, but it's not that rare, either."

"Among us," Aiden said. "Where are you from?" He shook his head.

"There's only one place you can be from. The Mother's Hills."

Rhyann nodded. "I am a Daughter of the House of Gaian. I come from the Mother's Hills."

Ashk licked her dry lips. "Do you know a witch named Selena?"

Rhyann laughed. "I know her well. She's my sister."

Another silence.

Ashk felt as if the ground had suddenly dropped out from under her.

"I had a dream that fire had silenced music," Rhyann said. That's why I've

been traveling. I knew I couldn't stop the fire, but I could help the music."

She smiled at Aiden. "Now my journey is done, so I'll head north to join Selena."

Ashk stared at the fire. "I'm to meet her before the full moon."

Aiden shook his head. "We'll never make it to Willowsbrook. Since they're already fighting in the south, we can't chance using the bridges and the

shining roads. We could ride down in the middle of a battle or become trapped if the shining road closes."

"I know." Ashk rubbed her hands over her face. "I know. But what choice

do we have? There's no telling how many Clans are left on the eastern side of the Mother's Hills. If we can't get huntsmen from the midland Clans to

Willowsbrook to fight the third arm of the Inquisitors' army, they'll drive

right through the center and crush our fighters from behind."

"In order to drive through the center, they would have to go through the Mother's Hills," Rhyann said. "They'll never get through the hills. But you can use those roads to get to Willowsbrook."

"I can't bring an army of Fae through the Mother's Hills."

"Why not, since they're traveling to defend the land?"

"Because your kind have the power to destroy the world!"

Ashk bit her lip. Too tired to be cautious, to walk carefully.

"That's right," Rhyann said softly. "We can. That's why we hold so strongly to our creed to do no harm. But the Mother isn't always benevolent-and neither are Her Sons and Daughters. If you fear us so much that you'll stand

aside instead of taking a road offered-" She jumped up and turned as if to walk away.

Ashk grabbed Rhyann's arm and stood up to face her. "I'm tired, and I spoke

in haste. And, frankly, having to meet Selena frightens me."

Rhyann tipped her head. "What is your other form?"

"I'm a shadow hound."

"So is Selena. So it's simple, isn't it? You snarl at her, she snarls at you, and

then the two of you go off and bite someone else."

A laugh burst out of Ashk. "Fair enough. Are you offering to be our escort through the Mother's Hills?"

"Since it appears I'm going the same way, I could do that."

They settled back around the fire. This time there was no tension in the

silence.

Ashk was about to suggest they turn in when Lyrra said, "If the Hunter is the oldest spirit of the woods, I wonder who the next oldest is?"

"Can't you guess?" Rhyann replied.

Ashk suddenly felt the darkest shadows of the woods brush against her. She

shivered. "The Gatherer. Death's Mistress."

Rhyann nodded. "Or Death's Sister, as she's called in some stories. Like the

Hunter, hers is an old and powerful spirit. And like the Hunter, hers is a dual nature."

"Why?"

"Because Death's Sister is both mercy and destruction."

Ashk said nothing. She simply unrolled her sleeping bag, pulled off her boots, and settled herself for sleep. With her eyes closed, she listened to the quiet sounds of the people around her, knew when her companions around the fire finally fell asleep.

She opened her eyes and stared at the night sky.

Death's Sister. Mercy and destruction.

She thought of Ari and Neall-and what could happen if the Lightbringer reached Bretonwood.

Find him, Morag. Find him... and do what needs to be done.

Chapter 29.

waxing moon She chased him relentlessly, and still he remained ahead of her. He had the advantage. When he tired of running in his other form, he changed back and demanded a horse, which that Clan provided. The Fae ran to fetch him food and water, rushed to make up a comfortable bed for him to sleep in for a few hours. Anything for the Lightbringer.

But for the Gatherer...

The Clans had no horses to spare. No, none at all. And no one could be spared from his duties to look after her dark horse or bring her food. No one at all. So she fed and watered the dark horse, unsaddled and groomed him.

She stumbled to the Clan house's kitchen, reeking of sweat and reeling from exhaustion, to devour whatever food was easily available. Sometimes she collapsed in the dark horse's stall and slept for a couple of hours, but the dreams chased her as relentlessly as she pursued the Lightbringer, driving

her away from any possible rest until she saddled the dark horse and headed out again.

She did what she could to spare the dark horse. He had courage and stamina,

but he'd already made a hard journey across Sylvalan. So she changed to her raven form and flew until she thought muscles would tear. She walked beside him to spare him carrying the extra weight. And she rode when fear

of what she might find at Bretonwood overwhelmed her concern mat she

was ruining a good horse.

So she chased the Lightbringer relentlessly-and the dreams relentlessly chased her.

Chapter 30.

waxing moon Dianna cantered over the bridge to the next Clan territory. The new Huntress had turned the Fae into panicked children scrambling for a crumb of approval. Oh, they acted pleased to see her when she arrived at a Clan house, but they didn't have time to talk with her, barely had time to show her to a guest room and have the Clan healer look at her arm. So much to do. Hurry hurry. Scramble scramble.

The Black Coats had sent whole armies against the humans in Sylvalan. Why should the Fae care about the humans? The fewer of them, the better. They'd caused nothing but trouble lately. Just like the witches.

It was the Black Coats' fault. All of it. They were the ones who started all the trouble in Sylvalan. At the core of it, they were the reason she was now shunned by her own Clan and cautiously welcomed by others. If they hadn't come, she wouldn't have been trapped at Brightwood, wouldn't have lost the challenge to that usurping bitch.

If you'd listened to Morag, Aiden, and Lyrra a year ago, you could have gathered the huntsmen from the Clans and driven the Black Coats out of Sylvalan. You could have been the one who protected the witches and the Old Places... and Tir Alainn. You would still be the Lady of the Moon, and the Fae would still love you... as they used to love you.

Maybe she had been mistaken about a few things, but she'd done her best for the Fae. For the Fae. They didn't seem to remember that. They certainly hadn't wanted to live in the Old Places or deal with humans or do any of the things they were now scurrying to do.

Her pale mare stumbled over something, almost fell. Mist suddenly enclosed them. Dianna slowed the animal to a trot while fear produced jagged spikes to scrape her nerves. She should have reached the other side of the bridge by now. At the very least, she should be seeing the glow from the arch that indicated the end of the bridge. And ... why was she riding through mist? There was no mist on the bridges.

But there had been. Thin wisps of it that swirled around her mare's knees. She remembered that now.