Chapter 16
She heard thunder, and thought groggily that they’d have to outrace a storm. Straightening, more than a little amazed she’d dozed off on the back of a dragon, she opened her eyes. Shook her head to clear it.
Not thunder, she realized and gaped at the towering fall of water that gushed over twin spires of rock into a wide blue pool.
There were trees here, still leafy and green, and the surprising tropical touch of palms. Lilies floated on the pool, pink and white, as if they’d been painted there. Beneath the surface of blue, she could see the dart of fish, bright and elegant as jewels.
The air smelled of flowers and clear water.
She was so stunned she stayed where she was when he landed. The dragon’s head bent down so the strap of the bag slid off. And she was sitting piggyback on Larkin.
“What? We take a wrong turn?”
He turned his head to smile into her dazzled eyes. “I told you I would bring you here. Faerie Falls, it is. There’s no picnic this time, but I thought…I wanted an hour, alone with you, somewhere there’s only beauty.”
“I’ll take it.” She jumped off his back, turned a circle.
There were starry little flowers in the grass, and a tangle of vines, blooming purple, winding right up the rocks, almost like frames for that plunge of water. The pool itself was clear as a mirror, blue as a pansy while the cups of lilies floated over it, and overhead the falls spilled fifty feet down.
“It’s incredible, Larkin, a little slice of paradise. And I don’t care how cold that water is, I’m having a swim.”
She yanked off her boots, started on her shirt. “Aren’t you?”
“Sure.” He kept grinning at her. “I’ll be right behind you.”
She stripped, tossing her clothes carelessly on the soft ground. Poised on the bank, she sucked in her breath, braced for the shock. And dived.
When she surfaced, she let out a joyful yell. “Oh my God, it’s warm! It’s warm and it’s silky and it’s wonderful.” She did a surface dive, came up again. “If I were a fish, I’d live here.”
“Some say the faeries warm it every morning with their breath.” Larkin sat, pulled off his own boots. “Others less fanciful talk of hot springs under the ground.”
“Faeries, science, I don’t care. It feels so damn good.”
He jumped in, and as men were prone to do, hit the water hard so it would splash her as much as possible. She only laughed and splashed him back.
They went under together, tugging each other deeper or pinching bare flesh, playing like seals. She swam under, cutting through with strong strokes until she felt the vibration of water striking water. She sprang off the bottom and into the tumble.
It beat on her shoulders, the back of her neck, the base of her spine. She shouted out with a combination of relief and joy as it pummeled away the aches and fatigue. When he joined her, wrapped his arms around her, they laughed as the water plunged over them. The force pushed them back toward the heart of the pool where she could simply float with him.
“I was thinking earlier how much I’d like a couple days at a good spa. This is better.” She sighed and let her head rest on his shoulder. “An hour here is better than anything.”
“I wanted you to have something unspoiled. I needed, I think, to remind myself there are such places.” Not only graves to be dug, he thought. Not only battles to be fought. “There isn’t another woman I know, but Moira, who would have done what you did with me today. For me today.”
“There aren’t many men I know who would have done what you did today. So we’re even.”
He brushed his lips over her temple, her cheek, found her mouth. The kiss was soft and warm as the water. His hand that stroked over her as gentle as the air.
It seemed that nothing beyond this place, beyond this precious time existed. Here, for now, they could just be. While they drifted, she saw a white dove soar overhead, and circle. She saw the sparkle of its green eyes.
So the gods do watch, she thought, remembering the white owl. In the good times, and in the bad.
Then she turned her lips to his. What did she care for gods now? This was their time, this was their place. She sank into the kiss, letting the water and his arms carry her.
“I need you.” His eyes were on hers as he took her mouth again. “Do you, can you know how much it is I need you? Take me in.” He murmured it as he cupped her hips, slid into her.
They watched each other as they joined, fingers stroking faces, lips brushing lips.
It was more than pleasure that moved through her, more even than the joy of life. If it was truth, she thought, this need, this sharing, then she could live on it the rest of her life.
She wrapped herself around him, gave herself to that truth.
And knew the name of that truth was love.
I t was probably possible to be more tired, to be more frustrated, but Glenna hoped she never found out. She’d done what Moira had asked and taken a group of women to one end of the gaming fields to try to give them the first basic lesson of self-defense.
They were more interested in gossiping and giggling, or trying to flirt with the men Hoyt worked with across the field than moving their asses.
She’d taken some twenty of the younger ones assuming they’d be more enthusiastic and in better physical shape. And that, she decided, might have been her first mistake.
Time, she thought, to get mean.
“Be quiet!” The sharp edge of her voice silenced the group into a single gasping breath. “You know, I like to ogle beefcake as much as the next girl, but we’re not here so you can pick out your date for the harvest ball. We’re here so I can teach you how to stay alive. You.” She chose one at random, pointed at a pretty brunette who looked sturdy. “Step over here.”
There were a few giggles, and the woman smirked as she strutted up to Glenna.
“What’s your name?”
“Dervil, lady.” Then she squeaked and stumbled back when Glenna’s fist swung up and stopped a bare inch from her face.
“Is that what you’re going to do when someone tries to hurt you, Dervil? Are you going to squeal like a girl, gulp like a fish?” She grabbed Dervil’s arm yanked it up so that it blocked Dervil’s face as Glenna shot her fist out again. Their forearms rammed together.
“That hurt!” Dervil’s mouth fell open in shock. “You have no right to hurt me.”
“Hurting someone isn’t about rights, it’s about intent. And a forearm block hurts less than a bare-fisted punch in the face. They’ll like the look of you, Dervil. Block! No, don’t throw your arm up like it’s a dishrag. Firm, strong. Again!” She worked Dervil backward with each punch. “You’ve got some meat on you, and all that blood swimming in your veins. Squealing and flapping won’t help you. What will you do when they come for you?”
“Run!” someone called out, and though there was some laughter at this, Glenna stopped and nodded.
“Running could be an option. There might be a time it’s the only option, but you’d better be fast. A vampire can move like lightning.”
“We don’t believe in demons.” Dervil thrust up her chin, rubbed her bruised forearm. From the mutinous set of her mouth, the glitter in her eyes, Glenna understood she’d made her first enemy in Geall.
So be it.
“You can bet they believe in you. So run. End of the field and back. Run like the demons of hell are after you. Goddamn it, I said run.” To get them moving, she spurted a little fire at their feet.
There were some screams, but they ran. Like girls, Glenna thought in despair. Waving arms, mincing feet, flapping skirts. And at least three of them tripped, which she considered an embarrassment for all females, everywhere.
Since she calculated she’d lose half of them if she made them run back, she jogged after them.
“Okay, from here. A couple of you actually have some speed, but for the most part, you’re all slow and silly. So we’ll run every day, one length of the field. You’re going to have to wear, what are they? Tewes or leggings. Pants,” she said, patting her own sweats. “Men’s attire for training. Skirts are only going to trip you up, be in the way.”
“A lady—” one of them began, only to freeze when Glenna lasered a stare at her.
“You’re not ladies when I’m training you. You’re soldiers.” A different tack, she decided. “Who here has children?”
Several raised hands, so she chose one she thought was at least watching her with some interest. “You? Your name?”
“Ceara.”
“What would you do, Ceara, if something came after your child?”
“I would fight, of course, I would. I would die fighting to protect my child.”
“Show me. I’m after your baby. What do you do?” When Ceara looked blank, Glenna pushed down her own impatience. “I’ve killed your husband. He’s dead at your feet, now the only thing that stands between me and your child is you. Stop me.”
Ceara lifted her hands, fingers curled into claws, and made a halfhearted lunge at Glenna. And the breath went out of her as she was flipped over Glenna’s shoulder to land on her back.
“How does that stop me?” Glenna demanded. “Your child’s screaming for you. Do something!”
Ceara got into a crouch, sprang up. Glenna let herself be tackled, then simply flipped Ceara over, pressed an elbow to her throat.
“That was better, that was positive. But it was too slow, and your eyes, your body told me just what you were going to do.”
When Glenna stood, Ceara sat up, rubbed the back of her head. “Show me,” she said to Glenna.
By the end of the session, Glenna put her first students in two camps. The Ceara camp consisted of those who showed at least some interest and aptitude. Then there was the Dervil camp, which not only showed neither, but a strong resistance to spending time doing something that wasn’t traditionally a woman’s task.
When they were gone, she simply sat down on the ground. Moments later, Hoyt dropped down beside her, and she had the pleasure, at least, of resting her head on his shoulder.
“I think I’m a poor teacher,” he told her.
“That makes two of us. How are we going to do this, Hoyt? How are we going to pull this together, turn these people into an army?”
“We have no choice but to do it. But gods’s truth, Glenna, I’m tired already and we’ve only begun.”
“It was different when we were in Ireland, the six of us. We knew, we understood what we’d be facing. At least you’re dealing with men, and some of them are already well trained with a sword or a bow. I’ve got a gaggle of girls here, Merlin, and most of them couldn’t fight off a blind, one-legged dwarf much less a vampire.”
“People rise when they have no choice. We did.” He turned his head to kiss her hair. “We have to believe we can do this thing, then we’ll do it.”
“Believing counts,” she agreed. “A lot of them don’t believe what we’re telling them.”
He watched two of the guards carrying iron posts, watched as they began to hammer them into the ground. “They soon will.” He got to his feet, reached for her hand. “We should see if the others are back.”
B lair didn’t know that she’d ever been sent for—unless you counted the occasional summons to the vice principal’s office in high school. She doubted Moira intended to give her detention, but it was weird, being escorted to the princess.
Moira answered the door herself, and the smile she gave Blair was quiet and serious. “Thank you for coming. That will be all, Dervil, thank you. You should go now, secure your place in the stands.”
“My lady—”
“I want you there. I want everyone there. Blair, please come in.” She stepped back to allow Blair inside, then shut the door in Dervil’s face.
“You sure come over all royal.”
“I know it must seem that way.” Moira rubbed a hand up and down Blair’s arm before she turned to walk farther into the room. “But I’m the same.”
She might have been wearing what Blair considered Moira’s training gear—the simple tunic, pants and sturdy boots—but there was something different about her.
The room might have added to it. It was, Blair assumed, a kind of sitting room, and plush for all that. Cushions of richly worked tapestries, velvet drapes, the lovely little marble hearth with its turf fire simmering all spoke of position.
“I asked you here to tell you how the demonstration will be done.”
“To tell me,” Blair repeated.
“I don’t imagine you’ll like what I’ve chosen to do, but the decision is made. There’s no other way for me.”
“Why don’t you tell me what you’ve chosen to do, then I’ll tell you if I like it or not.”
She didn’t. And she argued. She threatened and she cursed. But Moira remained both implacable and immovable.
“What have the others said about this?” Blair demanded.
“I haven’t told them. I’ve told you.” Thinking they could both use it, Moira poured them each a glass of wine. “Put yourself in my position, please. These are the monsters who killed my mother. They murdered the queen of Geall.”
“And the idea was—is—to show people they exist. What they are, how they need to be fought and destroyed.”
“Aye, that’s an essential point.” Moira sat a moment, to sip wine, to settle. All through the worries of the night, the duties of the day, she’d been gathering herself for what was to come. “In a few days, I’ll go to the stone. Again, before the people of Geall who’ve gathered there, I’ll take hold of the sword. If I lift it, I will be queen. And as queen I’ll lead my people into war—the first war in Geall. Can I send them into battle, can I send them to their deaths when I’m unproven?”
“Moira, you don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“Not to you, but to others. And to myself—do you understand? I won’t take up sword and crown until I feel worthy of both.”
“From where I’m standing you are. I wouldn’t tell you that if I thought otherwise.”
“You wouldn’t, no. That’s why I asked for you, and not one of the others. You’ll speak to me plainly, and I can speak plainly to you. It matters that you think I’m ready for the sword and the crown. It matters a great deal. But I have to feel it, don’t you see?”
“Yeah. Shit.” Because she did see, Blair raked her hands through her hair. “Yeah.”
“Blair, I’m afraid of what’s been asked of me. Of what I need to do, of what’s to come. I’m asking you to help me do this thing tonight, as a friend, a fellow warrior, and as a woman who knows how cold the path of destiny can be.”
“And if I refuse, you’ll do it anyway.”
“Of course.” Now a glimmer of a smile. “But I’d feel stronger and surer with your understanding.”
“I do understand. I don’t have to like it, but I can understand.”
Moira set her wine aside, got to her feet to take Blair’s hand. “That’s enough.”
T hey’d made it into a kind of party, Blair thought. Torches blazed, lining the field of play. Flames rose up toward the sky where the nearly full ball of moon beamed like a spotlight.
People crammed into the stands, jostled for position behind wooden barriers. They’d brought children, she noted, right down to babies—and the mood was festive.
She was armed—sword, stake, crossbow—and heard the murmurs as she passed through on her way to the royal box.
She slipped in next to Glenna.
“So what do you think the insurance would go for on a gig like this? Fire, wood, all this flammable clothing.”
Glenna shook her head as she scanned the crowd. “They don’t understand it. They’re like fans waiting for the concert to begin. For God’s sake, Blair, there are vendors selling meat pies.”
“Never underestimate the power of free enterprise.”
“I tried to get to Moira before we were brought here. We don’t even know the plan.”
“I do. And you’re not going to like it.” Before she could elaborate, there was a blare of trumpets. The royal family came into the box. “Just don’t blame me,” Blair said over the cheers of the crowd.
Riddock stepped forward, raising his hands to quiet the crowd. “People of Geall, you are here to welcome home Her Highness, the princess Moira. To give thanks for her safe return to us, and that of Larkin, lord of MacDara.”
There were more cheers as Moira and Larkin stepped up to stand on either side of Riddock. Larkin shot Blair a quick, cocky grin.
He doesn’t know, she thought, and felt her stomach twist.
“You are here to welcome the valiant men and women who accompanied them to Geall. The sorcerer Hoyt of the family Mac Cionaoith. His lady Glenna, cailleach dearg. The lady Blair, gaiscioch dorcha. Cian, of the Mac Cionaoith, and brother to the sorcerer. They are welcome to our land, to our home, to our hearts.”
The cheers rolled. Give them a few hundred years, Blair thought, and there’d be little witch and wizard action figures. If the world survived that long.
“People of Geall! We have known a dark time, one of heartbreak and of fear. Our beloved queen was cruelly taken from us. Murdered by what are not men, but beasts. On this night, on this ground, you will see what has taken your queen. They are brought here by order of her Royal Highness, and through the valor of Lord Larkin, the lady Blair and Cian of the Mac Cionaoith.”
Riddock stepped back, and by the way his jaw tightened, Blair thought he knew the drill—and wasn’t happy about it.
Moira moved forward, waited for the crowd to subside. “People of Geall, I have come home to you, but not to bring you joy. I come to bring you war. I have been charged by the goddess Morrigan herself to fight what would destroy our world, the world of my friends, all the worlds of humankind. I am charged, with these five whom I trust with my life, with my land, with the crown I may one day bear if the gods deem it, to lead you into this battle.”
She paused, and Blair could see she was judging the tone of the crowd, the murmurs, pacing herself.
“It is not a battle for land or wealth, not for glory or vengeance, but for life itself. I have not been your ruler, I have not been a warrior, but a student, a dutiful daughter, a proud citizen of Geall. Yet I would ask you to follow me and mine, to give your lives for me, and for all that come after. For on the night of the feast of Samhain we will face an army of these.”
The vampires were dragged onto the field. Blair knew what the people saw. They saw men in chains, murderers yes, but not demons.
There were shouts and gasps, there were calls for justice, there were even tears. But there was no true fear.
The guards fixed the chains to the iron posts, and at Moira’s nod, left the field.
“These that killed my mother, that murdered your queen have a name. It is vampire. In her world, the lady Blair has hunted them, destroyed them. She is the hunter of this demon. She will show you what they are.”
Blair let out a breath, turned briefly to Larkin. “Sorry.”
Before he could speak, she vaulted out of the box and crossed the field.
“What is this?” Larkin demanded.
“You will not interfere.” Moira gripped his arm. “This is my wish. More, this is my order. You won’t interfere. None of you.”
As Blair began to speak, Moira left the box.
“Vampires have one purpose. To kill.” Blair circled them, letting them draw her scent, the scent that would stir the terrible hunger. “They feed on human blood. They will hunt you, and drink you. If food is their only purpose you’ll die quickly. In pain, in horror, but quickly. If they want more, they’ll torture you, as they tortured the family Larkin, Cian and I found dead in the forest on the night we hunted these down.”
The larger one tried to lunge at her. His eyes were red now, and those closest to the field would see the fangs he exposed.
“Vampires aren’t born. They aren’t conceived, they don’t grow inside a womb. They’re made. Made from humans. A bite from a vampire, if not fatal, infects. Some that are infected become half-vampires, slaves to them. Others are drained almost to the point of death, the very edge of life. Then they’re fed the blood of their sire, and they die only to rise again. Not as a human, but as a vampire.”
She continued to move, circling just out of reach.
“Your child, your mother, your lover can be turned like this. They won’t be your child, your mother, your lover anymore. They’ll be a demon, like these, with the blood lust that drives them to feed, to kill, to destroy.”
She turned, and behind her the vampires strained against their chains, howling in frustration and hunger as she stood just out of range. “This is what’s coming for you. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them. This is what you have to fight. Steel won’t kill them. It hurts them.”
She whirled, sliced the tip of her sword across the chest of the larger one. “They bleed, but they heal, and a wound like this will barely slow one down. These are the weapons that destroy a vampire. Wood.”
She drew a stake, and when she feinted toward the smaller one, he cringed back, hunching to defend his chest. “Through the heart. Fire.” She grabbed a torch, and when she flourished it in the air, both of them shrieked.
“They’re night feeders because the direct light of the sun will end them. But they can lurk in the shadows, walk in the rain. Kill when the clouds block the sun. The symbol of the cross will burn them, and if you’re lucky hold them back. Holy water burns them. If a sword is used it must cut through the neck, taking their head.”
She, too, could judge the mood of the crowd, Blair thought. Excitement, confusion, those first whiffs of fear. And a great deal more disbelief. They still saw men in chains.
“These are your weapons, these are what you have along with your wits, your courage, against creatures that are stronger, faster and harder to kill than you are. If we don’t fight, if we don’t win, a little more than a month from now, they’ll devour you.”
She paused while Moira walked across the field to her. “Be sure,” Blair murmured.
“I am.” She gripped Blair’s hand briefly then turned to the crowd where voices rippled with concern, confusion.
Moira lifted her voice over it. “Morrigan is called the queen of the warrior, yet it is said she has never fought in battle. Still, I bow to her command. This is faith. I cannot, will not ask that you have the faith in me that you would in a god. I am a woman, mortal as you are. But when I ask you to follow me into battle, you will follow a warrior. Proven. Whether or not I wear a crown, I will carry a sword. I will fight beside you.”
She drew her sword, lifted it high. “Tonight, on this ground, I will destroy what took your queen and my mother. What I do here I do for her, by her blood. I do for you, for Geall, and all humankind.”
She faced Blair. “Do it. If you have any love for me,” she said when Blair hesitated. “Warrior to warrior, woman to woman.”
“It’s your show.”
She chose the smaller of the two, though she judged he still had thirty pounds on Moira. “On your knees,” she ordered, holding her sword to his throat.
“Easy for you to kill when I’m in chains.” He hissed it, but he dropped to his knees.
“Yeah, it would be. And I already regret I’m not getting a piece of you.” She held the sword against his throat as she moved behind him. Then taking the key Moira had given her, unlocked the chains.
With pride and fear, she plunged the sword into the ground beside him, and walked away.
“What have you done?” Larkin demanded when Blair took her position in front of the box.
“What she asked me to do. What I’d want her to do for me if the situation were reversed.” She looked up at him now. “If you can’t trust her, why should they?” She reached up for his hand. “If we can’t trust her, how can she trust herself?”
She released his hand, and facing the field, prayed she’d done the right thing.
“Pick up the sword,” Moira ordered.
“With a dozen arrows pointed at me?” it demanded.
“None flies unless you try to run. Are you afraid to fight a human on equal ground? Would you have run that night if my mother had held a sword?”
“She was weak, but her blood was rich.” His eyes slanted to the left, to his companion, still chained and staked too far away to be of any help. “It was meant to be you.”
The knife from that had already been in her heart. The words only twisted it. “Aye, and you killed her for nothing. But now it could be me. Will Lilith have you back if you taste my blood tonight? You want it.” Deliberately she cut a shallow slice across her palm. “It’s so long since you fed.”
She watched his tongue flick out to lick his lips as she held up her hand so the blood would drip down her arm and onto the ground. “Come. Strike me down and feed.”
He yanked the sword free, and raising it, charged.
She didn’t block the first blow, but pivoted aside, kicked out to send him sprawling.
A good move, Blair decided. Add some humiliation to the fear and the hunger. He came up, rushed Moira with that eerie, preternatural speed some of them possessed. But she was ready for him. Maybe, Blair thought, she’d been ready all of her life.
Sword struck sword, and Blair could see that while he had more speed, more strength, Moira had the better form. Moira drove his sword up, aside, then plunged her own into his chest. She danced back, once more took her stance.
Showing the crowd, Blair knew, that while such a wound might be mortal in a human, it barely broke a vampire’s stride.
She ignored the screams, the shouts, even the sounds of panic and running feet and watched the combat on the field.
The vampire cupped a hand on his wound, brought the blood from it to his mouth. From behind her, Blair heard the sound of a body hitting the ground as someone fainted.
He came at her again, but this time he anticipated Moira’s move. His sword nicked her arm, and he cracked the back of his hand across her face. She stumbled back, blocking the next blow, but was driven back toward the second vampire.
Blair lifted her crossbow, prepared to break her word.
Instead, Moira dived down, rolled aside. She came up with her legs pistoning in a hard double kick that simply made Blair’s heart sing.
“Atta girl, atta girl. Now take him out. Stop fooling around.”
But it had gone beyond that, beyond merely showing the people what a vampire was capable of withstanding in battle. Moira brought her sword down to cleave a gash in its shoulder, and still she moved back rather than strike a killing blow.
“How long did she live?” Moira demanded. “How long did she suffer?” She continued to block, to drive even when the hand that gripped the hilt of her sword was slick with her own blood.
“Longer than you will, or the coward who sired you.”
He charged through her shock. She barely saw the move, would never know how she defended herself against it. There was pain, the sting as the sword grazed her side. There was her own scream as she swung her sword through the air, and took its head.
She went to her knees as much with the sudden tearing grief than from any wounds. She shook from it, and the roars of the crowd were like a distant ocean.
She gained her feet, turned to Blair. “Unlock the other.”
“No. That’s enough, Moira. It’s enough.”
“That’s for me to say.” She strode over, yanked the key from Blair’s belt. “It’s for me to do.”
All sound dropped away as she started across the field. Moira saw the sudden light, a kind of glee in the vampire’s eyes as she approached it. The hunger, and the pleasure of what was to come.
Then she saw the arrow whizz by, and strike its heart.
Moira whirled, the rage of betrayal ripping through her. But it wasn’t Blair who held the bow. It was Cian.
He tossed it down. “Enough,” was all he said before he walked away.