Valley of Silence (21 page)

She sat in the chair by the fire that had yet to be lit, with her head between her knees.

“My head's light, and it doesn't need you bringing a scold down on it. I'll be myself again in a moment.”

“You seem yourself to me.” He poured water into a cup, held it down so she could see it. “Drink this. You're white as a corpse. I've made corpses with more color than you.”

“A lovely thing to say.”

“Truth is rarely pretty.”

She sat back in the chair, studying him as she drank the water. “You're angry, and that's just fine and good, as I'm angry right with you. You knew I was here, but you didn't come down.”

“No, I didn't come down.”

“You're a great fool, is what you are. Thinking you'd ease back from me, that I'd let you. We've only days left before we end this thing, so you go ahead and take steps back from me. I'll just take them toward you until your back's in the corner. I've not only learned to fight, I've learned not to fight clean.”

She gave a little shiver. “It's cold. I've nothing left after that spell to get the fire lit.”

He moved toward the hearth, and before he bent down for the tinderbox, she took his hand. And she pressed it against her cheek.

It broke him, a snap like glass. He lifted her out of the chair, holding her off the floor while his mouth plundered hers. She simply wrapped herself around him, wantonly, arms and legs.

“Aye, that's better,” she said breathlessly. “Much warmer now. The hours seemed endless since I watched you go. So little time, so little, for eternity.”

“Look at me. Yes, there's that face.” He held her close again so her head rested on his shoulder.

“Did you miss it, my face?”

“I did. You don't have to fight dirty when you've already carved yourself inside me.”

“Easier to be angry with each other. It hurts less.” She squeezed her eyes tight for a moment, then eased back when he set her on her feet. “I brought the vielle. I thought you might like to have it, to play it. We should have music, like we should have light and laughter, and all the things that remind us what we're ready to die for.”

She walked to the window. “The sun's setting. Will you go back to the battlefield tonight?” She glanced around when he didn't speak. “We saw you go with Larkin two nights ago, and saw you go alone last night.”

“Each time I go, I'm a little stronger. I won't be any good to you or myself if what's soaked into that ground turns me.”

“You're right on that, and tonight I'll be going with you. You can waste time arguing, Cian,” she said as he began to. “But I'll be going. Geall is mine, after all, and every inch of its ground, whatever is under it. I haven't been on the edges of that place since my childhood, except in my dreams of it. I need to see it, and at night, as it will be on Samhain. So I'll be going with you, or I'll be going alone.”

 

“B
ut I want to go! I want to. Please
,
please, please!”

Lilith wondered if her head could actually explode from the boy's incessant whining and wheedling. “Davey, I said no. It's too close to Samhain, and much too dangerous for you to leave the house.”

“I'm a soldier.” His little face went sharp and vicious. “Lucius said so. I have a sword.”

He unsheathed the small blade she'd had made for him—to her current regret—after his field kill. “It's just a hunting party,” she began.

“I want to hunt. I want to fight!” Davey slashed at the air with his sword. “I want to
kill.
”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Lilith waved him away. “And you will, to your heart's content.
After
Samhain. Not another word!”

She snapped the order out while a tinge of red smeared the whites of her eyes. “I've had enough from you for one day. You're too young and too small. And that's the end of it. Now go to your room and play with that damned cat you wanted so much.”

His eyes gleamed red, and his lips peeled back in a snarl that stripped away even the mask of human innocence. “I'm not too small. I hate the cat. And I hate you.” He stormed off, his little legs pumping in his tantrum. He swung his sword wildly as he went, slicing through the torso of a human servant who wasn't quick enough to leap aside.

“Damnation! Look at that mess.” Lilith threw up her hands at the blood spatter on the walls. “That boy's driving me mad.”

“Needs a good swat, if you ask me.”

Face livid now, Lilith rounded on Lora. “Shut your mouth! Don't tell me what he needs. I'm his mother.”

“
Bien sur.
Don't bite at me because he's being a brat.” Sulking, Lora slumped into a chair. Her face was nearly healed now, but the scars that remained burned into her like poison. “Simple to see where he gets his bitchy attitude.”

One of Lilith's hands curled, the red-tipped nails like talons. “Maybe you're the one who needs a good swat.”

Knowing Lilith could do worse than a swat in her current mood, Lora shrugged. “I wasn't the one who hammered at you the last hour, was I? I backed you up with Davey, and now you're taking it out on me. Maybe we're all on edge, but you and I should stick together.”

“You're right, you're right.” Lilith dragged her hands through her hair. “He actually gave me a headache. Imagine.”

“He's just, how do they say it? Acting out. He's so proud of himself for that kill in the field.”

“I can't let him go out.”

“No, no.” Lora waved a hand. “You did absolutely right. We've lost a hunting party and a raiding party, and it's no place for Davey out there. I still say you should've given him a good slap for talking back to you.”

“He may get one yet. Have someone clean that up.” She gestured vaguely toward the body of the servant. “Then make sure the hunting party gets on its way. Maybe they'll be luckier tonight and track down the odd human. The troops are tired of sheep's blood.

“Oh, one more thing,” she said as Lora started out. “I want a little something to eat—to calm myself down. Do we have any children left?”

“I'll check.”

“Something small in any case. I don't have much of an appetite tonight. Have it sent up to my room. I need some quiet.”

Alone, she paced the room as if it were a cage. Her nerves were stretched, she could admit that. So much on her mind, so many details, so many responsibilities with it all coming to the end of the circle at last.

The loss of troops was infuriating and worrisome. Deserters had been a problem, but she sent out scavengers nightly to hunt them down and destroy them. It simply wasn't possible two full squads had deserted.

More human traps? she wondered. They were costing her dearly—and would cost the humans a great deal more when she was done.

No one understood the pressure she was under, the weight of her responsibility. She had worlds to decimate. Her destiny was pressing down on her and she was surrounded by fools and incompetents.

Now her own sweet Davey, her own darling boy, was behaving like a snarling, spitting brat. He'd actually sassed her, something she took from no one. She wasn't certain if she should be proud or furious.

Still, she thought, he'd looked so cute and fierce waving that miniature sword. And hadn't he nearly cut that stupid servant in two, then stomped right out, almost swaggered, without a backward glance?

It was annoying, of course, but how could she not be a little proud?

She walked to the door, stepped out so she could feel the night slide over her, into her. He felt trapped in this house, poor Davey. So did she. But soon…

Of course, of course, what a terrible mother she was! She'd arrange a hunt right here, on the shielded grounds. Just the two of them. It would perk up her appetite, her spirits. And Davey would be thrilled.

Pleased with the idea, she went back in, and stepping over the bleeding body, went upstairs.

“Davey. Where's my bad little boy? I have a surprise for you.”

She opened the door of his room. The smell came first. There was a considerable amount of blood, on the floor, on the walls, on the bed covers she'd had made for him of royal blue silk.

Pieces of the cat were strewn everywhere. It had been, she recalled, a very large cat.

She sighed, then felt a laugh bubbling up. What a temper her little darling had.

“Davey, you naughty boy. Come out from wherever you're hiding, or I might change my mind about the surprise.” She rolled her eyes. Being a mother was such work. “I'm not angry, my sweetheart. I've just had so much on my mind, and I forgot you and I need to have some fun.”

She searched the room as she spoke, then frowned when she didn't find him. There were little pricks of concern as she stepped again. Lora dragged a woman behind her by a neck shackle.

“We're out of children, but this one's small.”

“No, no, not now. I can't find Davey.”

“Not in his room.” Lora peeked in. “Ah, creative. He's hiding somewhere because you're angry with him.”

“I have something…” Lilith pressed a hand to her belly. “Something tight inside me. I want him found. Quickly.”

They called out a search, scoured the manor house, the outbuilding, the fields within the protected area. The tightness in Lilith's belly became strangling knots when they discovered his pony missing.

“He's run away. He's run off. Oh, why didn't I make certain he was in his room? I have to find him.”

“Wait. Wait,” Lora insisted and grabbed Lilith hard. “You can't risk going outside the safety area.”

“He's mine. I have to find him.”

“We will. We will. We'll send our best trackers. We'll use Midir. I'll go myself.”

“No.” Struggling for calm, Lilith closed her eyes. “I can't risk you. Lucius. Find Lucius, and have him come to me in Midir's lair. Hurry.”

She cooled her blood and her mind. To rule took heat, she knew, but it also took ice. It was ice she needed to hold strong until the prince was safe again.

“I depend on you, Lucius.”

“My lady, I'll find him. I give you my word, and my word that I would give my life to see him safely home.”

“I know it.” She laid her hand on his shoulder. “There's no one I trust more. Bring him back to me, and anything you ask of me is yours.”

She whirled on Midir. “Find him! Find the prince in the glass.”

“I am searching.”

On the wall was a large oval of glass. It reflected the wizard in his dark robes, the room where he worked his dark magicks, and none of the three vampires who watched him.

Smoke slithered over the glass, swirled, and clawed its way to the edges. Through the haze of it, night began to bloom. And in the night came the shadow of a boy on a pony.

“Oh there, there he is.” Crying out, Lilith gripped Lora's hand. “Look how well he rides, how straight in the saddle. Where is he? Where in this cursed land is the prince?”

“He's behind the hunting party,” Lucian told her as he studied the vision in the glass. “And moving toward the battleground. I know that land, my lady.”

“Hurry then, hurry. Willful brat,” she muttered. “I'll take your advice this time, Lora. When he's back he'll have a good hiding. Keep him in that glass, Midir. Can you send me to him, the illusion of me?”

“You ask for many magicks at once, Majesty.” Robes swirling, he moved to his cauldron and, letting his hands flow through the air over it, brought up a pale green smoke.

“I'll need more blood,” he told her.

“Human, I suppose.”

His eyes glittered. “It would be best, but I can make do with the blood of a lamb or young goat.”

“This is the prince,” she said coldly. “We don't make do. Lora, have the one I was going to have brought in. Midir can have it.”

 

I
n the dark, Davey rode quickly
.
He felt strong and
fierce and fine. He would show them, show them all that he was the greatest warrior ever made. The Prince of Blood, he thought with a glinting smile. He'd make everyone call him that. Even his mother.

She'd said he was small, but he
wasn't.

He'd thought to trail behind the hunting party, then move in among them and order them to let him take the lead. None would dare question the Prince of Blood. And he would have the first kill.

But something was pulling him away from them, from the scent of his own kind. Something strong and tempting. He didn't need to stay with a hunting party, trail along after them like a baby. They were all less than he was.

He wanted to follow the music that was humming in his blood, and the smell of ancient death.

He rode slowly now, and with excitement bubbling inside him. There was something wonderful out in the dark. Something wonderful and his.

In the moonlight he saw the battlefield, and the beauty of it made him shake as he did when his mother let him put himself into her and ride as if she were a pony.

While it burned through him he saw figures on the high ground. Two humans, he thought, and a dragon.

He would have them all, slaughter them, drain them, and take their heads to drop at his mother's feet.

No one would ever call him small again.

T
here was a hard place in the middle of Moira's
chest, like a fist poised to strike. Breathing around it was an effort, but she stood as Cian did, at the edge of Silence.

“What do you feel?” she asked him.

“Pulled. You're not to touch me.”

“Pulled how?”

“Chains on my feet, around my throat, pulled in opposite directions.”

“Pain.”

“Yes, but it's mixed with fascination. And thirst. I can smell the blood in the ground. It's thick and it's rich. I can hear your heartbeat, taste your scent.”

Yet his eyes were Cian's eyes, she thought. They didn't burn red as they had the night he'd come here with Larkin. “They'll be stronger here than on other ground.”

He looked at her then, realizing he should have known she would understand that. “They'll be stronger here. There'll be more of them than there are of you. Driven by what's bred in this place, by Lilith's power over them, death won't mean to them what it does to you. They'll come and they'll come without thought of their own survival.”

“You think we'll lose. We'll die here, every one of us.”

Truth, he thought, would shield her better than platitudes. “I think the chances of beating this diminish.”

“You may be right. I'll tell you what I know of this place. What I've read, and what I think is the truth of it.”

She looked out again, across the pitted land called
Ciunas.
“Long, long ago, before the worlds had separated, and were one instead of many, there were only gods and demons. Man had yet to come between to fight either, to tempt either. Both were strong and fierce and greedy, both wanted dominion. But still, the gods, however cruel, didn't hunt and kill their own kind, didn't hunt and kill demons for sport or food.”

“So had the margin of good against evil?”

“There has to be a line, even if it's only that. There was war. Eons of it, all leading to this place. This was their last battle. The bloodiest, the most vicious, and most fruitless, I think. There was no victory. Only an ocean of blood that rose here, formed this harsh valley, and in time ebbed away, so that blood soaked into the earth, deep and deep.”

“Why here? Why in Geall?”

“I think when the gods made Geall, deemed it would live centuries in peace, in prosperity, this valley was the price. The balance.”

“Now payment's due?”

“It's always been coming to this, Cian. Now the gods charge the humans to fight the battle with this demon that began as human. Vampire against what is its source and its prey. It balances here, or it all falls. But Lilith doesn't understand what may happen if she wins this.”

“We'll burn out. My kind.” He nodded, having come to the same conclusion himself. “In chaos nothing thrives.”

Moira said nothing for a moment. “You're calmer now, because you're thinking.”

He let out a half laugh. “You're right. Still, it's the last place in this world or any I'd want to spread out for a picnic.”

“We'll have a moonlight one, after Samhain. There's a place that's a favorite of mine and Larkin's. It's—”

Though he'd told her not to touch him, he gripped her wrist now. “Ssh. Something…”

Saying nothing, Moira reached into the quiver on her back for an arrow.

 

I
n the shadows, Davey grinned and drew his treasured
sword. Now, he would fight the way a prince was supposed to fight. He'd slice and thrust and bite.

And drink, and drink, and drink.

He leaned low over the saddle, preparing to loose a war cry. And Lilith appeared before him.

“Davey! You turn that pony around this minute and come home.”

The fierceness on his face turned into a childish pout. “I'm hunting!”

“You'll hunt when and where I tell you. I don't have time for this nonsense, this worry. I have a war to wage.”

Now his face tightened into stubborn lines, and his eyes gleamed against the dark. “I'm going to fight. I'm going to kill the humans, then you won't treat me like a baby.”

“I made you, and I can
un
make you. You'll do exactly what I…what humans?”

He gestured with his sword. As she turned, and she saw, true fear bloomed in Lilith's belly. Uselessly she grabbed for the bridle, but her hand passed through the pony's neck.

“Listen to me, Davey. Only one of them is human. The male is Cian. He's very powerful, very strong, very old. You have to run. Make this pony run as fast as it can. You're not meant to be here. We're not meant to be here now.”

“I'm hungry.” His eyes were turning, and his tongue flicked out over fang and lip. “I want to kill the old one. I want to drink the female. They're mine, they're mine. I'm the Prince of Blood!”

“Davey, no!”

But with a violent kick of his heels, he sent the pony racing forward.

It was all so quick, Moira thought. Flashing moments. The silver snick of Cian's sword leaving its scabbard, the shift of his body in front of hers like a shield. The rider flew out of the dark, and her arrow was notched and ready.

Then she saw it was a child, a little boy on a sturdy roan pony. Her heart stumbled; her body jerked. And her arrow went wide of the mark.

The child was screaming, howling, snarling. A wolf cub on the hunt.

Lilith flew behind the pony, an emerald and gold she-demon, streaking through the air, hands curled into claws, fangs gleaming.

Moira's second arrow spiked through her heart and soared into the air.

“She's not real!” Cian shouted. “But he is. Take the dragon and go.”

Even as she reached for a third arrow, Cian shoved her aside, leaping over the charging pony.

A little boy, Moira thought. A little boy with eyes burning red and fangs spearing. It waved a shortened sword, as it dragged on the reins. Lilith's screams were like lances of ice through Moira's brain as the boy tumbled off the pony and fell hard on the rocky ground.

It bled, Moira saw, where the rocks struck and scraped. It cried, as a boy would when he had a fall.

Her breath caught in denial as Cian advanced with the illusion of Lilith clawing at him with intangible hands. Sick in heart and mind, Moira lowered her bow.

The second rider came out of the moon-struck dark like fury. Not a boy now, but a man armed for battle, his broadsword already cleaving the air.

Cian pivoted, and met the charge.

Swords clashed and crashed, the deadly music of them ringing over the valley. Cian leaped, dismounting the rider with a vicious kick to the throat.

With no clear shot, Moira tossed down her bow and drew her sword. Before she could rush to fight with Cian, the boy gained his hands and knees. He lifted his head, stared at her with those gleaming eyes.

It growled.

“Don't.” Moira backed up a step as Davey crouched to spring. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“I'll rip out your throat.” His lips peeled back as he circled her. “And drink and drink. You should run. I like it best when they try to run.”

“I won't run. But you should.”

“Davey, run! Run now!”

He whipped his head toward Lilith and snarled like a rabid dog. “I want to play! Hide-and-seek. Tag, you're it!”

“I won't play.” Moira circled with him, trying to work him back with thrusts of the sword.

He'd lost his sword in the fall, but Moira told herself she would use hers if he sprang at her. He wasn't unarmed; no vampire ever was. And those fangs glinted, sharp and keen.

She spun, kicking out, aiming low to hit him in the belly and drive him back.

Lilith's form crouched over him, hissing. “I'll kill you for that. I'll peel the skin from your bones before I do. Lucius!”

Lucius hacked out at Cian. There was blood on them both, blood in their eyes. They leaped at each other, meeting violently in midair.

“Run, Davey!” Lucius shouted. “Run!”

Davey hesitated, and something came over his face. Moira thought, for an instant, she could see the child the demon had swallowed. The fear, the innocence, the confusion.

He ran as a child runs, limping on his scraped knees. And gaining speed, gaining that eerie grace as he rushed toward the slashing swords.

Dropping her own sword, Moira grabbed up her bow. A moment too late, as Davey leaped onto Cian's back, struck with fang and fist. If she shot now, the arrow could go through the boy, and into Cian.

A fingersnap. More flashes of time. The boy tumbled through the air, propelled by a savage blow. He knuckled his hands over his burning eyes and cried for his mother.

Again, Lilith called out. “Lucius, the prince! Help the prince.”

His loyalty, his years of service cost him. As Lucius turned his head a fraction toward Lilith, Cian took it with one singing strike of his sword.

Davey scrambled to his feet, wild panic on his face now.

“Take him,” Cian called out as Davey began to run. “Take the shot.”

Now those flashes of time slowed down. Wild screams, wild weeping, echoing through the dragging air. The figure of a child running on bleeding, tired legs. Lilith, her face alive with fear and horror, standing between the child and Moira, her arms spread in defense or plea.

Moira looked into Lilith's eyes as her own blurred. Then with a tear in her heart, she blinked them clear, and sent the arrow flying.

The shriek was horribly human as the arrow passed through Lilith. That shriek went on and on and on as the arrow continued, straight and true into the heart of what had once been a little boy who'd played in the warm surf with his father.

Then Moira was standing alone with Cian on the edge of a valley that hummed with the hunger for more blood.

Cian bent, picked up the swords. “We need to go, now. She'll have already sent others.”

“She loved him.” Moira's voice sounded strange and thin to her own ears. “She loved the child.”

“Love isn't exclusive to humans. We need to go.”

Her mind dull, she tried to focus on Cian. “You're hurt.”

“And I don't relish leaving any more blood here. Get mounted.”

She nodded, taking her own weapons before pulling herself onto the dragon. “She'd killed him,” Moira murmured as Cian vaulted on behind her. “But she loved him.”

She said nothing more as they flew away from the battlefield.

 

G
lenna took over the moment they got back, herding
them both into the parlor for first aid.

“I'm not hurt,” Moira insisted, but sat heavily. “I wasn't touched.”

“Just sit.” Glenna got to work on Cian's buttons. “Off with your shirt, handsome, so I can see the damage.”

“Some cuts, a few punctures.” He bit back a wince as he shrugged out of the shirt. “He was good with a sword, quick on his feet.”

“I'd say you were better and quicker.” Blair handed him a cup of whiskey. “That's a nasty bite on the back of your shoulder, pal. What? This guy fought like a girl?”

“It was the boy,” Moira said before Cian could answer. She shook her head at the whiskey Blair offered. “Lilith's boy, the one she called Davey. He came at us, riding a little pony, waving a sword no bigger than a toy.”

“He wasn't a boy,” Cian said flatly.

“I know what he was.” Moira simply closed her eyes.

“A kiddie vamp did all this?” Blair demanded.

“No.” With some annoyance, Cian scowled at her. “What do you take me for? The soldier—trained and seasoned—Lilith must have sent after the whelp did this, except for the shagging bite.”

“How do I treat it?” Glenna asked him. “A vampire bite on a vampire?”

“Like any other wound. You can sure as hell hold the holy water. It'll heal quick enough, like the others.”

“It was a foolish risk going out there,” Hoyt said.

“It was necessary,” Cian shot back. “For me. And our happy news is whatever holds that place doesn't stop me from dusting another vampire. Moira.” Cian waited until she opened her eyes and met his. “It had to be done. There might have been others coming behind the one she called Lucius. If I'd gone after the young one, it would have taken time and left you alone. He was no less your enemy because of his size.”

“I know what he was,” she said again. “He was what killed Tynan, what tried to kill Larkin. What would have killed us both tonight if it had gone another way. Still, I saw his face—under what it was, I saw his face. It was young and sweet. I saw Lilith's face, and it was the face of a mother, terrified for her child. I put the arrow into it as it ran away, crying for its mother. I know, whatever comes now, nothing I ever do will be worse than that. And I know I can live with it.”

She let out a shuddering breath. “I think I'll be having that whiskey now after all. I'll take it up with me if you don't mind. I'm tired.”

Cian waited until Moira left the room. “Lilith will try for her. She may not be able to get physically into the house, but in dreams, or illusions.”

Hoyt rose. “I'll see to it, make certain the protection we have is strong enough.”

“She won't want me now,” Larkin murmured. “Or any of us,” he added with a quiet look for Cian. “She'll need to curl up with it for a while. And she will live with it, just as she said.”

He sat now, across from Cian. “You said the one you fought was called Lucius?”

“That's right.”

“That's the one I tangled with, along with the boy, in the caves. I'd say you've just taken out one of Lilith's top men. A kind of general. This would be a very hard night for Lilith, thanks to you and Moira.”

“She'll come harder now because of it. We've destroyed or damaged those closest to her, and she'll come at us like bloody vengeance.”