The House Of Gaian

much that you’ll stand aside instead of taking a road offered—” She jumped up and turned as if to walk away.
    Ashk grabbed Rhyann’s arm and stood up to face her. “I’m tired, and I spoke in haste. And, frankly, having to meet Selena frightens me.”
    Rhyann tipped her head. “What is your other form?”
    “I’m a shadow hound.”
    “So is Selena. So it’s simple, isn’t it? You snarl at her, she snarls at you, and then the two of you go off and bite someone else.”
    A laugh burst out of Ashk. “Fair enough. Are you offering to be our escort through the Mother’s Hills?”
    “Since it appears I’m going the same way, I could do that.”
    They settled back around the fire. This time there was no tension in the silence.
    Ashk was about to suggest they turn in when Lyrra said, “If the Hunter is the oldest spirit of the woods, I wonder who the next oldest is?”
    “Can’t you guess?” Rhyann replied.
    Ashk suddenly felt the darkest shadows of the woods brush against her. She shivered. “The Gatherer.
    Death’s Mistress.”
    Rhyann nodded. “Or Death’s Sister, as she’s called in some stories. Like the Hunter, hers is an old and powerful spirit. And like the Hunter, hers is a dual nature.”
    “Why?”
    “Because Death’s Sister is both mercy and destruction.”
    Ashk said nothing. She simply unrolled her sleeping bag, pulled off her boots, and settled herself for sleep. With her eyes closed, she listened to the quiet sounds of the people around her, knew when her companions around the fire finally fell asleep.
    She opened her eyes and stared at the night sky.
    Death’s Sister. Mercy and destruction.
    She thought of Ari and Neall—and what could happen if the Lightbringer reached Bretonwood.
     
    Find him, Morag. Find him... and do what needs to be done.

 

     
     

Chapter 29

 

     
     

     
    waxing moon
     
    She chased him relentlessly, and still he remained ahead of her. He had the advantage. When he tired of running in his other form, he changed back and demanded a horse, which that Clan provided. The Fae ran to fetch him food and water, rushed to make up a comfortable bed for him to sleep in for a few hours. Anything for the Lightbringer.
    But for the Gatherer...
    The Clans had no horses to spare. No, none at all. And no one could be spared from his duties to look after her dark horse or bring her food. No one at all. So she fed and watered the dark horse, unsaddled and groomed him. She stumbled to the Clan house’s kitchen, reeking of sweat and reeling from exhaustion, to devour whatever food was easily available. Sometimes she collapsed in the dark horse’s stall and slept for a couple of hours, but the dreams chased her as relentlessly as she pursued the Lightbringer, driving her away from any possible rest until she saddled the dark horse and headed out again.
    She did what she could to spare the dark horse. He had courage and stamina, but he’d already made a hard journey across Sylvalan. So she changed to her raven form and flew until she thought muscles would tear. She walked beside him to spare him carrying the extra weight. And she rode when fear of what she might find at Bretonwood overwhelmed her concern mat she was ruining a good horse.
    So she chased the Lightbringer relentlessly—and the dreams relentlessly chased her.

 

     
     

Chapter 30

 

     
     

     
    waxing moon
     
    Dianna cantered over the bridge to the next Clan territory. The new Huntress had turned the Fae into panicked children scrambling for a crumb of approval. Oh, they acted pleased to see her when she arrived at a Clan house, but they didn’t have time to talk with her, barely had time to show her to a guest room and have the Clan healer look at her arm. So much to do. Hurry hurry. Scramble scramble.
    The Black Coats had sent whole armies against the humans in Sylvalan. Why should the Fae care about the humans? The fewer of them, the better. They’d caused nothing but trouble lately. Just like the witches.
    It was the Black Coats’ fault. All of it. They were the ones who started all the trouble in Sylvalan. At the core of it, they were the reason she was now shunned by her own Clan and cautiously welcomed by others. If they hadn’t come, she wouldn’t have been trapped at Brightwood, wouldn’t have lost the challenge to that usurping bitch.
    If you’d listened to Morag, Aiden, and Lyrra a year ago, you could have gathered the huntsmen from the Clans and driven the Black Coats out