Shadows and Light

the past two mornings. When he got to the chorus, he remembered to give it the same hearty enthusiasm as he would have in a crowded tavern to encourage people to sing along.
    Minstrel bobbed his head and made odd little sounds, as if he were trying to find a way to sing along.
    Aiden finished the last note, gave Lyrra an irritated look when she grinned at him and applauded, and picked up the saddle.
    Minstrel walked over to him, a sure indication there would be no sulking this morning. But as Aiden got Minstrel saddled, he also noticed the horse mouthing the bit a little too thoughtfully, and he decided to do the last four verses of the song tomorrow. If Minstrel somehow figured out he’d been given pieces of a song every morning instead of a whole song...

    You couldn’t catch a dark horse that didn’t want to be caught. You couldn’t ride a dark horse that didn’t want to be ridden. And a dark horse that was sulking could rattle a man’s bones instead of giving a smooth, sweet ride.
    But, Mother’s mercy, the horse had more passion for music than any wide-eyed apprentice he’d ever worked with. Which was why he’d started calling the horse Minstrel, even though the Fae weren’t in the habit of naming animals. At least with an apprentice, he could smile and decline to indulge the child with a song. He rarely declined, but he could. Minstrel simply kept trotting out of reach, refusing to be saddled until he got his morning song. In a battle of wills, Aiden was quickly learning he was no match for a stubborn dark horse.
    Ah, well. As Lyrra had pointed out yesterday, he was used to singing for his supper. Now he just had to sing for the saddling, too.
    After checking the girth once more, Aiden mounted. Gathered the reins. Noticed that Minstrel was still mouthing the bit far too thoughtfully.
    Then he looked at Lyrra and saw the smile on her lips, the laughter in her eyes. The little comedy he and Minstrel played out every morning had done her more good than decent meals and restful sleep, and for that he felt grateful. By tomorrow, they would reach the western Clans. Once they crossed the boundary that divided those Clans from the rest of the Fae, he didn’t think they’d get much rest.

Chapter Twenty-four
    Morag and Ashk studied the two dead trees and the partially eaten bodies around them. Birds. Squirrels.
    Even a young fox.
    “You’ve seen this before?” Ashk asked quietly. She looked at the surrounding trees—and kept her fingers on the bowstring, ready to draw back the loosely nocked arrow.
    “I’ve seen this before,” Morag replied. “Where there were nighthunters.”
    “So the Black Coats did leave some of their foul magic behind.” Ashk went back to studying the dead trees. “Those trees weren’t dead a couple of days ago. The Clan has stayed watchful. The hunters have ridden out every day, checking the trails, looking for signs of these creatures. None of them noticed two trees that were suddenly dying or animals killed and then left to rot.”
    “I think they consume the blood first. That’s what they prefer to devour—and the spirit once the body dies. They eat the flesh last, if they’re still hungry.” But even if the victim managed to escape, the bites would fester and rot the flesh around them. A slower death, but death nonetheless. Remembering the nighthunter attacks she had managed to evade, Morag shuddered. Her gift as Death’s Mistress could do little against the creatures since there was nothing in them for her to gather. Releasing her gift would only stun the nighthunters, but it would kill any other living creature that was around them.
    “None of those kills are fresh,” Ashk said. “But they didn’t happen that long ago, either.”
    “They’ve moved on,” Morag said, turning in a slow circle, listening. Listening. “Once they kill the tree they’re nesting in and can’t draw anything more from it, they move on, find another tree for the nest.
    There are a lot of them. Somewhere in the Old Place, there are a lot of them.”
    Ashk gave her a considering look. “Why do you say that?”
    “They killed too much too fast. There was no sign of them yesterday. At least, nothing we could see and recognize. Now, today, there are dead trees and devoured animals. There has to be a lot of nighthunters to consume so much so fast.”
    “This is close to Ari and Neall’s part of the Old Place.” Ashk let out a huff of air. “Which direction did they go? Is it