Chapter 15
They buried Tynan on a brilliant morning with cloud shadows dancing over the hills and a lark singing joyfully in a rowan tree. The holy man blessed the ground before they lowered him into it, with a fife and drum sounding the dirge.
All who knew him, and many who didn’t, were there so that mourners stretched across the sun-drenched graveyard and up the rise toward the castle. The three flags of Geall flew at half staff.
Moira stood beside Larkin, dry-eyed. Though she heard Tynan’s mother weeping, she knew her time for tears had passed. The others of her circle stood behind her, and she could feel them, took some comfort from that.
Now two stones would stand for friends here, along with the markers for her parents. All of them victims of a war that had raged long before she’d known of it. And would end with her, one way or another.
At last, she moved away to give the last moments to the family and their privacy. When Larkin took her hand, she gripped it firmly. She looked at Cian, could just see his eyes under the shadow of his hood. Then she looked at the others.
“We have work to do. Larkin and I need to speak with Tynan’s family again, then we’ll meet in the parlor.”
“We’ll head in now.” Blair stepped forward, laid her cheek against Larkin’s. Moira couldn’t hear the words Blair murmured to him, but Larkin released her hand and pulled Blair into a hard embrace.
“We’ll be in shortly.” Larkin eased back, then took Moira’s hand again. She would have sworn she could feel his grief coming through his skin.
Before Moira could move back toward the family, Tynan’s mother broke away from her husband and pushed her way to Cian. Her eyes were still spilling tears.
“It’s your kind did this. Your kind killed my boy.”
Hoyt made a move forward, but Cian shifted to block his path. “Yes.”
“You should be in hell instead of my boy being in the ground.”
“Yes,” Cian repeated.
Moira stepped up to put an arm around her, but the woman shook it off. “You, all of you.” She whirled, jabbing out an accusing finger. “You care more about this thing than my boy. Now he’s dead. He’s dead. And you have no right to stand here by his grave.” She spat at Cian’s feet.
As she wept into her hands, her husband and daughters carried her off.
“I’m sorry,” Moira murmured. “I’ll speak with her.”
“Leave her be. She wasn’t wrong.” Saying nothing more, Cian walked away from the fresh grave, and the lines of stones that marked the dead.
Niall caught up with him as he reached the gates. “Sir Cian, a word with you.”
“You can have as many words as you want once I’m out of this shagging sun.”
He didn’t know why he’d gone to the graveyard. He’d seen more than enough dead in his time, heard more than enough weeping for them. Tynan’s mother wasn’t the only one who looked at him with fear and hate, and here he was out in the daylight with the only things between him and the killing sun some rough cloth and a charm.
His blood cooled the moment he was inside, out of the light.
“Say what you need to say.” Cian shoved back the detested hood of the cloak.
“So I will.” A big man with his usually cheerful face tight and grim, Niall nodded sharply. His wide hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he looked hard into Cian’s eyes. “Tynan was a friend, and one of the best men I’ve known.”
“You’re saying nothing I haven’t heard before.”
“Well, you haven’t heard me say it, have you? I saw what had become of Sean, what had been a harmless and often foolish lad. I saw him kick Tynan’s body from the horse as if it were no more than offal to be tossed in a ditch.”
“To him it wasn’t any more than that.”
Again, Niall nodded, and his fingers tightened on the sword’s hilt. “Aye, that’s what was made of him. And of you. But I watched you lift Tynan’s body off the ground. I watched you carry it in, as a man would carry a fallen friend. I saw none of what was Sean in you. Tynan’s mother’s grieving. He was her first-born, and she’s mad with grief. And she was wrong in what she said to you by his grave. He’d not have wanted you insulted by his blood. So as his friend, I’m telling you that. And I’m telling you any man who fights with me fights with you. That’s my word on it.”
He lifted his hand from the hilt of his sword and held it out to Cian.
Humans never failed to surprise him. Irritate, annoy, amuse, occasionally educate. But most of all they continued to surprise him with the twists and turns of their minds and hearts.
He supposed that was one reason he’d been able to live among them so long and still be interested.
“I’ll thank you for it. But before you take my hand, you need to know that what was in Sean is in me. There’s a thin difference.”
“Not thin by my measure. And I’m thinking you’ll use what’s in you to fight. I’ll put my back to yours, Sir Cian. And my hand’s still out.”
Cian shook it. “I’m grateful,” he said. But when he went up the stairs, he went alone.
H eartsick, Moira walked back to the castle. There was little time for grieving, she knew, little time for comfort. What Lilith had done to Sean, to Tynan, she’d done to cut at their hearts. And she’d aimed well.
So they would heal them now with action, with movement.
“Can the dragons be used? Are they trained enough to carry men?”
“They’re smart, and accommodating,” Larkin told her. “Easily ridden by any who have a good seat, and aren’t afraid of the height. But so far, it’s been like a game for them. I can’t say how they’ll do in battle.”
“For now, it’s more a matter of transportation. You’d know the best of them, you and Blair. We’ll need—” She broke off as her aunt crossed the courtyard to her. “Deirdre.” She kissed her aunt’s cheek, held an extra moment. She knew Larkin’s and Tynan’s mothers were close. “How is she?”
“She’s prostrate. Inconsolable.” Deirdre’s eyes, swollen from her own tears, locked on Larkin’s face. “As any mother would be.”
He embraced her. “Don’t fret for me, or for Oran.”
“Now you ask the impossible.” Still she smiled a little. But the smile faded as she turned to Moira again. “I know this is a difficult time, and you’ve much on your mind, on your heart. But I would speak with you. Privately.”
“Of course. I’ll join you shortly,” she said to the others, then laid her arm around Deirdre’s shoulders. “We’ll go to my sitting room. You’ll have tea.”
“You needn’t trouble.”
“It’ll do us both good.” She caught the eye of a servant as they passed into the hall, and asked that tea be brought up.
“And Sinann?” Moira continued as they climbed the stairs.
“Fatigued, and full of grief for Tynan, of worry for her husband, her brothers. I couldn’t allow her to go to the grave today, and made her rest. I worry for her, and the babe she carries, her other children.”
“She’s strong, and has you to tend her.”
“Will it be enough if Phelan falls as Tynan has? If Oran has already... ”
“It must be. We have no choice in this. None of us.”
“No choice, but for war.” Deirdre entered the sitting room, took a chair. Her face, framed by her wimple, was older than it had been weeks before.
“If we don’t fight they’ll slaughter us, as they did Tynan. Or do what they did to poor Sean.” Moira went to the hearth to add bricks to the fire. Despite the bright autumn sun, she was cold to the bone.
“And fighting them, how many will die? How many will be slaughtered?”
Moira straightened, and turned. Her aunt wasn’t the only one who would question, who would look to their queen for the impossible answer.
“How can I say? What would you have me do? You who were confidant to my mother before she was queen, and all during her reign. What would you have had her do?”
“The gods have charged you. Who am I to say?”
“My blood.”
Deirdre sighed, looked down at her hands lying empty in her lap. “I’m weary, to the bottom of my soul. My daughter fears for her husband, as I do for mine. And for my sons. My friend buried her child today. And I know there is no choice in this, Moira. This blight has come to us, and must be cut out.”
A servant hurried in with the tea.
“Leave it please,” Moira said. “I’ll pour. Is food being sent to the parlor?”
The young girl curtseyed. “Aye, Your Majesty. The cook was seeing to it when I left with the tea.”
“Thank you. That’s all then.”
Moira sat, poured out the tea. “There’s biscuits as well. It’s good to have small pleasures in hard times.”
“It’s pleasures in hard times I need to speak with you about.”
Moira passed the cup. “Is there something I can do to ease your heart? Sinann’s and the children’s?”
“There is.” Deirdre took a small sip of the tea before setting the cup aside. “Moira, your mother was my dearest friend in this world, and so I sit here in her stead, and I speak to you as I would my own daughter.”
“I’d have it no other way.”
“When you spoke of this war that’s upon us, you spoke of no choice. But there are other choices you’ve made. A woman’s choices.”
Understanding, Moira sat back. “I have.”
“As queen, one who’s claimed herself a warrior, one who’s proven herself as one, you have the right, even the duty, to use any and all weapons that come to your hand to protect your people.”
“I do, and I will.”
“This Cian who comes here from another time and place. You believe the gods sent him.”
“I know it. He fought by your own son. He saved my life. Would you sit here and look at me, and damn him as Tynan’s mother damned him?”
“No.” Deirdre took a careful breath. “In this matter of war, he is a weapon. By using him you may save yourself, my sons, all of us.”
“You’re mistaken,” Moira said evenly. “He’s not to be used like a sword. What he’s done, and what he will do to cut out this blight, he does of his own will.”
“A demon’s will.”
Moira’s eyes chilled. “As you like.”
“And you’ve taken this demon to your bed.”
“I’ve taken Cian to my bed.”
“How can you do this thing? Moira, Moira.” She reached out her hands. “He’s not human, yet you gave yourself to him. What good can come of it?”
“Much has already, for me.”
Deirdre sat back a moment, pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Do you think the gods sent him to you for this?”
“I can’t say. Did you ask yourself that question when you took my uncle?”
“How can you compare?” Deirdre snapped. “Have you no shame, no pride?”
“No shame, and considerable pride. I love him, and he loves me.”
“How can a demon love?”
“How can a demon risk his life, time and again, to save humanity?”
“It’s not his bravery I question, but your judgment. Do you think I’ve forgotten what it is to be young, to be stirred, to be foolish? But you’re queen, and you have responsibility to your crown, your people.”
“I live and breathe that responsibility, every moment, every day.”
“And at night you bed a vampire.”
Unable to sit any longer, Moira rose, moved to the window. The sun still shone, she thought, bright and gold. It sparkled on the grass, on the river, on the gossamer wings of dragons who flew lazy loops around Castle Geall.
“I don’t ask you to understand. I demand your respect.”
“Do you speak to me as my niece, or as the queen?”
She turned back, framed by the window and the sunlight. “The gods have deemed me both. You come to me out of concern, and that I accept. But you also come with condemnation, and that I don’t. I trust Cian with my life. It’s my right, my choice, to trust him with my body.”
“And what of your people? What of those who question how their queen could take one of these creatures of darkness as lover?”
“Are all men good, Aunt? Are they all kind and good and strong? Are we as we’re made, or how we choose to make ourselves thereafter? I’ll say this about my people, about those I’ll give my life fighting to defend. They have more important things to worry about, to think about, to talk about than what their queen does in the privacy of her bedchamber.”
Deirdre got to her feet. “And when this war is over, will you continue this? Will you put this thing you love on the throne at your side?”
The sun still shone, Moira thought again, even when the heart goes bleak. “When this is over, if we live, he’ll go back to his time and his place. I’ll never see him again. If we lose, I’ll give my life. If we win, I’ll forfeit my heart. Don’t speak to me of choices, of responsibilities.”
“You’ll forget him. When this is done, you’ll forget him and this momentary madness.”
“Look at me,” Moira said quietly. “You know I won’t.”
“No.” Deirdre’s eyes swam with tears. “You won’t. I’d spare you from this.”
“I wouldn’t. Not a moment of it. I’ve been more alive with him than I ever was before, or will be again. So no, not a moment of it.”
T hey were all gathered in the parlor around the table and food when Moira came in. Glenna reached over to remove a cover from the plate at the head of the table.
“It should still be warm,” she told Moira. “Don’t waste it.”
“I won’t. We need to eat, to stay strong.” But she stared at the food on her plate as if it were bitter medicine.
“So.” Blair gave her a bright smile. “How’s your day been so far?”
The laugh, however quick and humorless, eased some of the knots in Moira’s stomach. “Crappy. That would be the word, wouldn’t it?”
“Right down to the ground.”
“Well.” She made herself eat. “She’s struck at us, as is her habit, to incite fear and carve away at morale and confidence. Some will believe what she had Sean tell us. That if we surrender, she’ll leave us in peace.”
“Lies are often more attractive than the truth,” Glenna commented. “Time’s running out either way.”
“Aye. We, we six, will have to make preparation to leave the castle, head toward the battleground.”
“Agreed.” Hoyt nodded. “Before we do, we’ll need to be certain the bases we’ve set up are still in our hands. If Tynan was killed, they may have taken that stronghold. We’ve only the word of a demon it was the child who killed him, and him alone.”
“It was the child.” Cian drank tea that was nearly half whiskey. “The wounds on the body,” he explained. “They weren’t made by a full-grown vampire. Still, it doesn’t answer if the strongholds are still secured.”
“Hoyt and I can look,” Glenna said.
“I’ll want you to, but looking isn’t enough.” Moira continued to eat. “We need to gather reports from those who survived.”
“If they did.”
She looked at Larkin and felt what he felt. The constant thrum of fear for Oran.
“If they did,” she repeated.
“If she’d wiped out the base,” Cian put in, “the messenger she sent would have bragged about it, and likely she’d have sent more bodies.”
“Aye, I can see that. But to keep what she accomplished from happening again, we’ll want to add reinforcements.”
“You want us to go by dragon.” Larkin nodded. “That’s why you asked if they were ready to be ridden.”
“As many as can be used for this. Those who must go on foot or horseback from here will, from today on, be watched over by riders in the air. If you, Larkin, and Blair could go this morning, take a small number with you. On dragon-back, you can travel to all the bases, transport more weapons, more men, see to the reports and what you think must be done when you see for yourself where we stand. You could be back before nightfall, or failing that, stay at one of the bases until the morning.”
“You’re cutting too many of us out by sending two,” Cian interrupted. “And I should be the one to go.”
“Hey.” Blair wagged a piece of soda bread. “How come you get to have all the fun?”
“Practicalities. First, all but Glenna and I have seen some of the ground of or near the battlefield firsthand. It’s time I got the lay of it. Second, with that bloody cloak, I can start the journey during the day, but I can travel more quickly and more safely than any of you at night. And being a vampire myself, I’ll recognize signs of them quicker than even our resident demon hunter.”
“He makes a good argument for it,” Larkin pointed out.
“I’ve been planning to go, nose around a bit in any case. So this will kill all the birds with one stone. And the last of it, I think we can all agree, the mood here would settle if I wasn’t around.”
“She was out of line,” Blair muttered.
Cian shrugged, knowing she spoke of Tynan’s mother. “All a matter of perspective—and where you draw that line. Time’s getting short, and one of us should be on the battleground, particularly at night when Lilith might be scouting around herself.”
“You don’t mean to come back,” Moira said slowly.
“There’s no point in it.” Their eyes met, held, and said a great deal more than words. “One of the men can come back with your reports and so on. And I’d fill in the rest of it when all of you arrive.”
“You’ve already decided this.” Moira watched his face carefully. “I see. We’re a circle here, equal links. For such a decision, I think we should all have a say. Hoyt?”
“I don’t like any of us going off without the others, truth be told. But it needs to be done, and Cian makes the most sense of it. We can watch as we watched when Larkin went to the caves back in Ireland. If need be we can intervene.” He looked at his wife. “Glenna?”
“Yes. Agreed. Larkin?”
“The same. With one change in it. I think you’re wrong, Cian, to say we’d be cutting it too thin to send two out. I think no one goes on their own. I can get you there in dragon form. And,” he continued before there were objections, “I’m more experienced with the dragons than you, should there be any trouble with them, or the enemy. So I’m saying we go together, you and I. Blair?”
“Damn it. Dragon-boy’s right. You may move faster alone, Cian, but you’re going to need a dragon wrangler to get there, especially if you’re leading men.”
“Yes, it’s smarter.” Glenna considered. “All around smarter. It gets my vote.”
“And mine as well,” Hoyt said. “Moira?”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.” She got to her feet knowing she was sending the two men she loved most away from her. “The rest of us will finish the weapons, secure the castle and follow in two days.”
“Big push.” Blair considered, nodded. “We can do it.”
“Then we will. Larkin, I’ll leave it to you to pick the dragons for this, and to you and Cian to pick the men.” Moira laid it out in her mind, the overview, the details. “I’ll want Niall left back, if you will, to go at the end of it with the rest of us. I’ll go now, see to the supplies you’ll need.”
W hen she’d done all she could, and hoping she was calm, Moira went to Cian’s bedchamber. She knocked, then opened the door without waiting for his response. With the curtains drawn there was barely enough light to see, so she flicked her hand, her power toward a candle. The way the flame spurted warned her she wasn’t as calm as she’d hoped.
He continued to pack what he wanted to take in a duffle.
“You said nothing of these plans to me.”
“No.”
“Were you going to leave in the night, with no word?”
“I don’t know.” He stopped, looked at her. There were a great many things he couldn’t give her, or ask of her, he reflected. At least honesty was a quality they could share.
“Yes, at least initially. Then you came to my door one night, and my plans changed. Or, they were postponed.”
“Postponed.” She nodded slowly. “And when Samhain’s come and gone, will you leave without a word?”
“Words would be useless, wouldn’t they?”
“Not to me.” There was panic rising up in her at the knowledge they were moving toward the end. How could she not have known that was waiting in her to push its way out and choke her? “Words would be precious to me. You want to leave. I can see it. You want to go.”
“I should have gone before. If I’d been quicker, I’d have been out the door and gone before you came to me. You’d be better off for it. This... with me. It’s no good for you.”
“How dare you? How dare you speak to me like a child who wants too many sweets? I’m sick to death of being lectured on what I should think, feel, have, do. If you want to go, you’ll go, but don’t insult me.”
“My going has nothing to do with what’s between us. It’s just something that has to be done. You agreed, and so did the rest.”
“If I hadn’t, they hadn’t, you’d have gone anyway.”
He watched her as he strapped on his sword. Pain was already slicing thin wounds in both of them, as he’d known it would from the moment he’d touched her. “Yes, but it’s less complicated this way.”
“Are you done with me then?”
“And if I am?”
“You’ll be fighting on two fronts, you right bastard.”
He laughed, couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t only pain between them, he realized. He’d do well to remember that. “Then it’s lucky for me I’m not done with you. Moira, last night you knew you had to be the one to end what had once been a boy you’d known, you’d been fond of. I knew it, so I stopped myself from doing it, from sparing you from that. I know I have to go, and go without you for now. You know that, too.”
“It doesn’t make it easier. We may never be alone again, never be able to be with each other as we were again. I want more time—there hasn’t been enough time, and I need more.”
She moved to him, held him hard and tight. “We didn’t have our night. It didn’t last till morning.”
“But the hours mattered, every minute of them.”
“I’m greedy. And already fretting that you’ll go while I stay.”
Not just today, he thought. Both of them knew she didn’t speak only of today. “Do women of Geall follow the tradition of sending their men off with a favor?”
“What would you have from me?”
“A lock of your hair.” The sentiment of it surprised him, and embarrassed a little. But when she drew back, he could see his request had pleased her.
“You’ll keep it with you? That part of me?”
“I would, if you’ll spare it.”
She touched her hair, then held up a hand. “Wait, wait. I have something. I’ll have to get it.” She heard the trumpet call of dragons. “Oh, they’re ready for you. I’ll bring it to you, outside. Don’t leave. Promise me you’ll wait until I come to say goodbye.”
“I’ll be there.” This time, he thought as she rushed out.
O utside, in the shelter of shade, Cian studied the dragons Larkin had chosen, and the men they’d decided on together.
Then he frowned down at the ball of hardened mud Glenna held out to him. “Thanks, but I had quite enough at breakfast.”
“Very funny. It’s a bomb.”
“Red, it’s a ball of mud.”
“Yes, a ball of earth—charmed earth, holding a ball of fire inside. If you drop it from the air.” She used her hands waving them down as she made a whistling noise—then a puff of breath to simulate an explosion. “In theory,” she added.
“In theory.”
“I’ve tested it, but not from a dragon perch. At some point you could try it out for me.”
Frowning, he turned it over in his hands. “Just drop it?”
“Right. Somewhere safe.”
“And it’s not likely to explode in my hands and turn me into a fireball?”
“It needs velocity and force. But it wouldn’t hurt to be sure you had good altitude when it’s bombs away.” She rose on her toes, kissed him on both cheeks. “Be safe. We’ll see you in a couple of days.”
Still frowning, he secured the ball into one of the pockets of the weapon harness Blair had fashioned for Larkin.
“We’ll be watching.” Hoyt laid a hand on Cian’s shoulder. “Try to stay out of trouble until I’m with you again. And you as well,” he said to Larkin.
“I’ve already told him I’ll kick his ass if he gets himself killed.” Blair gripped Larkin’s hair, pulled his head down for a hard kiss. She turned to Cian.
“We’re not doing a group hug.”
She grinned. “I’m with you on that. Stay away from pointy wooden objects.”
“That’s the plan.” He looked over her head as Moira ran toward the stables.
“I’d hoped to be quicker,” she said breathlessly. “You’re ready then. Larkin. Be safe.” She hugged him.
“And you.” He gave her a last squeeze. “Mount your dragons!” he called out, and with a last flashing grin for Blair, changed.
“I have what you asked me for.” Moira held out a silver locket while Blair harnessed Larkin. “My father gave it to my mother when I was born, so she could keep a lock of my hair in it. I left that one, and put in another.”
And had added what magic she could.
Rising on her toes, she put the chain over his head. To make a point, to him, to any who watched, she took his face in her hands, and kissed him long and warm and tender.
“I’ll have another of those waiting for you,” she told him. “So don’t do anything foolish.”
He put on the cloak, lifting the hood and securing it. He mounted Larkin, looked into Moira’s eyes.
“In two days,” he said.
He rose up into the sky on the golden dragon. Others soared behind him, trumpeting.
As she watched, as those glints of color grew smaller with distance, Moira was struck with a sudden knowledge, a certainty that the six of them would not come back from the valley to Castle Geall as a circle.
Behind her, Glenna gestured to Hoyt, sending him away. She hooked an arm around Blair’s waist, around Moira’s. “All right, ladies, let’s get busy packing and stacking so we can get you back together with your men.”