Valley of Silence (20 page)

Then he felt it, a stroke along the skin. Cold, seeking fingers that seemed to slide into him and swirl through his blood. And a whisper inside his head, a quiet siren's song that called to what he was beneath the form of a man.

And when he looked down, the savage ground of the battlefield spread below.

Its utter silence was a scream of violence. It burned into him like molten steel, brilliant and dark, deep and primal. The grass was wild sharp blades, the rocks rough death. Then even they would give way to black pits of chasms and caves where nothing dared to crawl.

Guarded by the mountains the damned ground waited for blood.

He had only to lean forward—such a short distance—and sink his teeth in the neck of the dragon to find the blood of a man. Human and rich, that gush of life, and a taste no other living thing could match. A flavor he'd denied himself for centuries. And why? To live among them, to survive wearing the mask of one of them?

They were beneath him, so much less—fleas on a dog. They were nothing but flesh and blood, created for him to hunt. The hunger gnawed in him, and the desire, the feral thrill of it pumped through him like a heartbeat.

The memory of the kill, of that first hot spurt of life gushing into his mouth, riding down his throat, was glorious.

Shaking like an addict in the throes of withdrawal, he fought it. He would not end it this way. He would
not
go back to being a prisoner of his own blood.

He was stronger than that. Had made himself more than that.

His belly cramped with need and nausea as he leaned toward Larkin. “Put down here. Stay in this form. Be ready to fly again, to leave me if you need. You'll know.”

It dragged at him, that cursed ground, as they lowered toward it. It murmured and sang and promised. It lied.

The heat was in him like a fever as he leaped down. He would not, he swore, he would not turn himself and kill a friend as he'd once tried to kill his brother.

“It's this place. It's evil.”

“I told you not to change forms. Don't touch me!”

“I feel it inside me.” Larkin's voice was calm and even. “It must burn in you.”

Cian turned, his eyes red, his skin slicked with sweat from his inner war. “Are you stupid?”

“No.” But Larkin hadn't, and didn't now draw a weapon. “You're fighting it, and you'll beat it back. Whatever it is this place calls to in you, there's more. There's what Moira loves.”

“You don't know the hunger of it.” Deep in his throat a groan waited. It hummed in Cian's ears, and with it, he could hear the beat of Larkin's pulse. “I can smell you, the human.”

“Do you smell fear?”

Shudders ran through him, hard enough he thought his bones might crack to pieces. His head was screaming, screaming, and still he couldn't block out the sound, the vicious temptation of that beating heart.

“No. But there could be. I could bring it into you. Fear sweetens it. God, God, what sick hand forged this place?”

His legs wouldn't hold him, so he lowered to the ground and struggled to tighten his slippery grip on his will. As he did, he closed his fingers around the locket she'd put around his neck.

The sickness ebbed, just a little, as if a cool hand had stroked a fevered brow. “She brings me light, that's what she brings to me. And I take it, and feel like a man. But I'm not. This is a hard reminder that I'm not.”

“I see a man when I look at you.”

“Well, you're wrong. But I won't drink tonight, not from you. Not from a human. It won't swallow me tonight. And it won't take me like this again, now that I know.”

The red was fading from his eyes as he looked up at Larkin. “You were a fool not to draw a weapon.”

In answer, Larkin lifted the cross from its chain.

“It might have been enough,” Cian considered. He scrubbed his sweaty palms dry on the knees of his jeans. “Fortunately for us both, we don't have to test it.”

“I'll take you back.”

Cian looked at the hand Larkin offered. Humans, he thought, trusting and optimistic. He took it, pulled himself to his feet. “No, we'll go on. I need to hunt something.”

He'd won the battle, Cian thought as they rose into the air again. But he wouldn't deny he was relieved to be heading away from that ground.

And he was darkly thrilled when he spotted the movements below.

A dozen troops, he noted, on foot and moving with that fluid swiftness of his kind. For all the speed, there was a precision to it, an order in the ranks that told him they were trained and seasoned soldiers.

He felt the shift of the dragon's body when Larkin saw them, and once again Cian leaned down.

“Why don't we try out Glenna's newest weapon? When they cross the next field, fly directly over the center of the squad. They've got archers, so once the shit hits, you'll have to go into evasive maneuvers.”

As Larkin flew into position, Cian reached into the harness pocket and took out the ball.

How is a dragon like a plane? he considered, and put his centuries of experience as a pilot to use gauging airspeed, distance, velocity.

“Bomb's away,” he murmured, and let the ball drop.

It smashed into the ground, causing the baffled squad to stop, draw weapons. Cian was about to chalk Glenna's experiment up to a loss when there was a towering burst of flame. Those closest to it were simply obliterated, while a few others caught fire.

Watching the panic, hearing the screams, Cian notched an arrow. Ducks in a barrel, he mused, and picked off what was left.

Once again Larkin touched down, and changed. “Well.” He kicked carelessly at a pile of ash. “That was quick.”

“I feel better for having killed something, but it was detached, impersonal. Human style. Doesn't have the same kick as a true hunt. Same reason we don't use guns or modern weaponry,” Cian added. “There's just no thrill in it.”

“I'm sorry for that, but the results of it suit me well enough. And Glenna's fireball worked a treat, didn't it now?”

Larkin began to gather the weapons scattered over the ground. As he bent down, an arrow whizzed over his back, and planted itself in Cian's hip.

“Oh well, bugger it! I must have missed one.”

“Take the harness.” Larkin tossed it at Cian. “And get on.”

He flashed to dragon, and since he considered the arrow might slow him down a little on foot, Cian vaulted up. He caught the next arrow in the air before it could strike. Then Larkin was rising and diving and swerving.

“There, I see them. Second party entirely. Likely a hunting party looking for stray humans or whatever comes to hand.”

He used the bow again, taking out a few as they scattered and took cover.

“It's just no fun this way,” he decided. Drawing his sword, he leaped off Larkin and dropped thirty feet to the ground.

If dragon's could curse, Larkin would have turned the air blue.

They came at Cian like the points of a triangle, two male, three female. He sliced the arrow coming at him in two with his sword, then spun the blade back to block the oncoming attack.

The dregs of what he'd felt on the battleground were in him, and he used them. That need for blood, if not to drink, then to shed it. He fought at first to wound, so he could smell it—the rich copper of it, and ride on it as he hacked and sliced.

The dragon's tail whipped down, slapped one of the females back as she lifted her bow again. Then its claws raked at the throat.

To amuse himself, Cian flipped back, shot a vicious kick into the face of an opponent. When it stumbled he took its head even as he yanked the arrow from its hip and plunged it into the heart of the one coming from his left.

He spun around, saw that Larkin had changed and was ramming a spent arrow in the heart of the last one.

“Is that it then?” Larkin said breathlessly. “Is that the last of them?”

“By my count.”

“And you counted so well the last time.” He rose, brushed himself off. “Bloody dust. Are you feeling more yourself now?”

“Top of the world, Ma.” Cian rubbed absently at his wounded hip. Since it was pouring blood, he ripped off the sleeve of his shirt. “Give me a hand, will you? Quick field dressing.”

“You want me to bandage your arse?”

“It not my ass, you git.”

“Close enough.” But Larkin walked over to see to it. “Drop your drawers then, sweetheart.”

Cian spared him a single dark look, but obliged.

“And what do you think Lilith's mood will be when not a one of her raiding or hunting parties comes back?”

“She'll be pissed.” Cian craned his head to watch Larkin's work. “Royally.”

“Makes a body feel good, doesn't it? You'll have a fine hole in your bum for a bit.”

“Hip.”

“Looks like your ass to me. And I'm hungry enough to eat a donkey, hide and all. Time we went back, had ourselves a meal and a tankard. There, you'll do. It was a good night's work,” he added when Cian pulled his pants up again.

“Turned out that way. It could have gone otherwise back there at the valley, Larkin.”

Philosophically, Larkin pulled up some clumps of grass to wipe most of Cian's blood from his hands. “I don't think that's the truth of it. I don't think it could have gone any way but what it did. Now if your ass isn't too sore, you'll help me gather up all these nice weapons to add to our supply.”

“Leave my ass out of it.”

Together they began to gather swords, bows, arrows. “I'm sure that portion of you will be fine again shortly. If not, Moira'll kiss it well for you when they arrive.”

Cian looked over as Larkin whistled a tune and loaded swords in the harness. “You're a funny guy, Larkin. A damn funny guy.”

 

I
n Geall, Moira walked away from the crystal to
stand at the window with her arms folded. “Am I mistaken in it, or were they not told to go check the bases, take no risks?”

“They disobeyed,” Blair agreed. “But you've got to admit it was a good fight. And that fire ball was excellent.”

“The delay's a little concern.” Glenna continued to watch as they flew back toward base. “I'll work on that. I'm a little more worried about the effect the battlefield had on Cian.”

“He fought it off,” Hoyt replied. “Whatever tried to take hold of him, he fought it off.”

“He did, to his credit,” Glenna agreed. “But it was hard won, Hoyt. It's something we have to think about. Maybe we can work a charm or spell that will help him block it.”

“No.” Moira spoke without turning. “He'll do it himself. He'll need to. Isn't it his will that makes him what he is?”

“I suppose you're right.” Glenna studied Moira's rigid back. “Just as I suppose the two of them had to go out tonight, and do what they did.”

“That may be. Are they back safe yet?”

“Coming in for touchdown,” Blair told her. “And all's quiet on the western front. Well, eastern front, but that doesn't have the same literary ring.”

“Quiet for the moment.” Moira turned back. “I think it's safe to say they'll be tucked up for the night now, and it's unlikely there'll be another raid on the base. We should all get some sleep.”

“Good idea.” Glenna gathered up the crystal.

They said good night, went their separate ways. But none of them went to bed. Hoyt and Glenna went to the tower to work. Blair headed to the empty ballroom to train.

Moira went to the library and pulled out every book she could find on the lore and legend and history of the Valley of Silence.

She read and studied until the first light of dawn.

When she slept, curled in the window seat as she'd often done as a child, she dreamed of a great war between gods and demons. A battle that had raged for a century, and more. A war that had spilled the blood of both until it ran like an ocean.

And the ocean became a valley, and the valley became Silence.

“S
inann, you should be in bed still.”

With her hand resting on her belly, Sinann shook her head at Moira. “I couldn't let my father leave without seeing him off. Or you.” Sinann looked around the courtyard where horses and dragons and men were preparing for the journey. “It will seem so empty now, with so few of us left inside the walls.” She managed a smile as she watched her father hoist her son high in the air.

“We'll come back, and the noise will be deafening.”

“Bring them back to me, Moira.” The strain began to leak through now, through her eyes, her voice. “My husband, my father, my brothers, bring them back to me.”

She took Sinann's arms. “I'll do everything in my power.”

Sinann pressed Moira's hand to her belly. “There's life. Feel it? Tell Phelan you felt his child move.”

“I will.”

“I'll tend your seedlings, and keep a candle lit until you all come home again. Moira, how will we know? How will we know if you…”

“You'll know,” Moira promised. “If the gods don't send a sign of our victory, then we will. I promise. Now go kiss your father, and I'll kiss all your other men for you when I see them.”

Moira moved to her aunt, touched a hand to Deirdre's arm. “I've spoken with the men I can leave with you. My orders are clear, simple and to be followed exactly. The gate stays locked, and no one leaves the castle—day or night—until word comes that the battle is done. I count on you as the head of my family who remains here, to see these orders are followed. You are my regent until my return. Or in the event of my death—”

“Oh, Moira.”

“In the event of my death, you will serve until the next rightful ruler is chosen.” She pulled off a ring that had been her mother's, and pushed it into Deirdre's hand. “This is a sign of your authority, in my name.”

“I'll honor your wishes, your orders and that name. I swear it to you. Moira.” She gripped her niece's hands. “I'm sorry we quarreled.”

“So am I.”

Though her eyes were wet, Deirdre managed a tremulous smile. “Though we both part here believing we had the right of it.”

“We do. I don't love you less because of it.”

“My child.” Deirdre held her close. “My sweet girl. Every prayer I know goes with you. Come back to us. Tell my sons they have my heart and my pride.”

“Sorry.” Blair touched Moira's shoulder. “Everything's ready.”

“I'll say goodbye to you.” Deirdre stepped forward to kiss Blair's cheeks. “And trust you'll keep my eldest out of trouble.”

“Do my best.”

“You'll need to. He's a handful.” She opened her mouth to speak again, then took a steadying breath. “I was going to say be safe, but that's not what warriors want to hear. So I'm saying fight well.”

“You can count on it.”

Without pomp or pageantry, they mounted horses and dragons. Groups of children were gathered, clucked over by the women who remained behind. The old leaned on walking sticks, or the arms of the younger.

There were tears glimmering. While they might look through the mist of them to loved ones leaving them behind, Moira knew they looked to her as well.

Bring them back to me.
How many had that single desperate wish in their hearts and minds? Not all would have that wish granted, but she would—as she'd sworn to Sinann—do her best.

And she wouldn't leave them or lead them with tears.

Moira signalled to Niall who would lead the ground force. When he called for the gates to be raised, she lifted the sword of Geall high. And leading the last of the troops from Castle Geall, she shot an arc of fire into the pale morning sky.

The dragon riders arrived first to mobilize the troops. They would abandon the first base to begin the next leg of the march to the battlefield. Supplies and weapons were packed, and men were taken up on dragons, or onto horses when they arrived. Those who went on foot were flanked by riders—air and ground.

So they traveled across the land and the skies of Geall.

At the next stop they rested and watered their mounts.

“You'll have tea, my lady.” Ceara joined Moira near a stream where dragons drank.

“What? Oh, thanks.” Moira took the cup.

“I've never seen such a sight.”

“No.” Moira continued to watch the dragons, and wondered if any of them would see such a sight again. “You'll ride with your husband, Ceara.”

“I will, my lady. We're near ready.”

“Where is the cross you won, Ceara? The one you're wearing is copper.”

“I…” Ceara lifted her hand to the copper cross. “I left it with my mother. Majesty, I wanted my children protected if…”

“Of course you did.” She wrapped her fingers around Ceara's wrist and squeezed. “Of course.” She turned as Blair strode toward them.

“Time to round them up. Mounts are rested and watered. Supplies and weapons are packed, except for what we're leaving behind with the squad that'll hold this base until tomorrow.”

“The troops behind us should arrive well before sunset.” Moira looked to the skies. “Do they have enough protection if there's a change in the weather. Natural or otherwise?”

“Lilith may have some snipers and scouts scattered this far west, but nothing the troops can't handle. We have to move on, Moira. Leap-frogging this way keeps soldiers from being exposed and vulnerable at night, but it takes time.”

“And we've a schedule to keep,” Moira agreed. “Give the order then, and we'll move on.”

 

I
t was well past midday when the first of them arrived
at their final destination. Below where she flew, men stopped and cheered. She saw Larkin come out of the house, lift his face. Then change into a dragon to fly up and join them.

And she saw the dark earth of fresh graves.

Larkin circled her with a quick, showy flourish, then paced himself to Blair's mount. Moira lost her breath when Blair stood on her dragon's back, then sprang off into the air. The cheers from below rose up like thunder as Blair landed on Larkin, and rode him down.

Like a festival, Moira thought, as other riders executed showy turns and dives. Perhaps they needed the show and the foolishness for these last few hours of daylight. Night would come soon enough.

She would have seen to her own mount as she had along the way, but Larkin plucked her off her feet, gave her a whirl and a kiss.

“That doesn't sweeten me up,” she told him. “I've a bone to pick with you. You were to travel, gather reports and secure. Not go out looking for trouble.”

“We do what we must when we must.” He kissed her again. “And all's well, isn't it?”

“Is it?”

“It is. He is. Go inside. There are plenty here to see to the mounts. You've had a long journey. No trouble along the way, Blair says.”

“No, none.” She let him lead her inside.

There was a pot of stew simmering over the fire, and the scent of it, of men and mud filled the air. Maps were spread over a table where she imagined a family had once gathered. Hangings over the windows were homespun and cheerful, and the walls were clean and whitewashed.

Weapons stood at every door and window.

“You've a chamber upstairs if you want a bit of a rest.”

“No, I'm fine. But in fact I could use a whiskey if there's any to be had.”

“There is.”

She could see by his face that Blair had come behind them.

“Mounts are being tended,” Blair began. “Supplies and weapons unloaded. Hoyt's on it. What's the setup here?”

“We've troops bunking in the stables, the barn, the dovecote and the smokehouse as well as in here. There's a loft that's roomy enough, and we're using it as a kind of barracks.”

He poured a whiskey as he spoke, cocked his head at Blair, but she shook hers.

“Sitting room here is serving as the main arsenal,” he continued. “And we've weapons stockpiled in all the buildings. The men take shifts, day and night. Training continues daily. There were raids, as you know, but none since Cian and I arrived.”

“Saw to that, didn't you?” Moira asked before she drank.

“We did, and gave Lilith a good boot in the arse. We lost another man yesterday, one who was wounded in the raid that killed Tynan. He didn't die easy.”

Moira looked down into her whiskey. “Are there more wounded?”

“Aye, but walking. There's a kind of parlor open to the kitchen, and we've been using that for tending those who need it.”

“Glenna will have a look at that, and arrange it as she sees best. Well.” She downed the rest of the whiskey. “We all know there's not enough room inside shelters for all the troops. Nearly a thousand here tonight, and half again that many who'll be here within the next two days.”

“Then we'd better get busy making camp,” Blair said.

There was some pride in it, Moira discovered, at seeing so many of her people—men and women, old and young—working together. Tents began to spread over the field while wood and turf was gathered for cook fires. Wagons of supplies were unloaded and stacked.

“You have your army,” Glenna said from beside her.

“One day I hope crops will be planted here again instead of tents. There are so many. There never seemed so many before. Can you hold so many within a protective circle?”

Glenna's face tightened with sheer determination. “Lilith's pet dog managed to shield their entire base. I hope you're not suggesting Hoyt and I can't measure up.”

“Wouldn't think of it.”

“Damn big circle to cast,” Glenna admitted. “And the sun's getting low, we'll have to get started. We could use you.”

“I was hoping you could.”

With them, Moira walked the field from end to end and, as Glenna had instructed, gathered blades of grass, small stones, bits of earth as she went. They met again in the center.

As word had passed that magic would be done, the troops fell silent. In the hush, Moira heard the first whispers of power.

They called on the guardians, east and west, north and south. On Morrigan, their patron. She took up the chant with them as she'd been given it.

“In this place and in this hour, we call upon the ancient powers to hear our needs and grant our plea to shelter all in this company. Upon this grass, this earth, this stone, protection from harm bestow. Only life at its fullest may cross this ring, and none may enter with harm to bring. Within this circle that was cast no enemy nor his weapon may pass. Night or day, day or night shield earth and air within its light. Now our blood will seal this shield and circle it round this field.”

As Hoyt and Glenna did, Moira cut her palm with an athame, then fisted it around the dirt, the grass, the stones she'd gathered.

It pumped and plunged through her, the heat—hers and theirs—and the wind they raised blew in widening circles, slapping at the tents, singing through the grass until it whipped around and around the edges of the field in a cyclone of light.

With Hoyt and Glenna, she threw down the blood-soaked earth, felt the shudder under her feet as three small flames bloomed and died. When they clasped hands, her body bowed back from the force of what joined them.

“Rise and circle,” she shouted with them, “circle and close and bar this place from all our foes. Blood and fire here mix free, as we will, so mote it be.”

Around the field red flames speared up. When the earth was scorched white in a perfect ring, the flames vanished in a thunderclap.

Moira's vision wavered, and the voices that spoke to her seemed to blur as well, as if the world were suddenly underwater.

When she came back to herself she was on her knees. Glenna was gripping her shoulders and saying her name.

“I'm all right. I'm all right. It was just…it was so much. Just need my breath back.”

“Take your time. It was a powerful spell, only more so because we used blood.”

Moira looked down at the slice on her hand. “Everything's a weapon,” she stated. “As Blair says. Whatever it takes, as long as it works.”

“I'd say it has,” Hoyt said quietly.

Following his direction, Moira saw Cian standing outside the circle. Though the cloak protected him from the last rays of the sun, she could see his eyes, and the fury in them.

“Well then. We'll leave the men to finish setting up camp.”

“Lean on me,” Glenna told her. “You're white as a sheet.”

“No, it won't do.” Though her knees were still like pudding. “The men can't see me drooping now. I'm just a bit off in the stomach is all.”

As she crossed the field, Cian turned on his heel and strode back to the house.

He was waiting inside, and something of his mood must have translated as he was alone.

“Are you trying to lay her out before Lilith gets the chance?” he demanded. “What are you thinking, dragging her into magicks like that, strong enough to brew up your own personal hurricane.”

“We needed her,” Hoyt said simply. “It isn't an easy matter to throw a net over an area so large that holds so many. And as it stopped you on the edge, the spell holds.”

It hadn't just stopped him, but had shot jolts of electricity through him. He was surprised his hair wasn't standing on end. “She's not strong enough to—”

“Don't tell me what I'm not strong enough to do. I've done what was needed. And isn't that the same you'd say to me if I dared question your reckless journey to the valley? Both are done now, and we're able to stand here and argue about it, so I'd say both are well done. I'm told I have a chamber upstairs. Does anyone know where it might be?”

“First door, left,” Cian snapped.

When she walked, haughtily, he thought, up the stairs, he cursed. Then followed her.