Dance of the Gods (23 page)

“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 bat
tle. 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.