The House Of Gaian

“What’s wrong?”
    “You have to come to the baron’s house. Lady Breanna says she has to speak with you right away.”
    Breanna was at Liam’s house? She was relieved to hear Breanna was no longer lost in that horrible frozen retreat she’d sunk into yesterday, but... “Tell Breanna I’ll be there as soon as I can. We’ve a battle coming in a few hours and—”
    “Hunter, you have to come now . And the Huntress, too.”
    “Go on,” Liam said. “I’ll stay here and start bringing our people into position.”
    Knowing what it must have cost him to stay, Ashk nodded. “We’ll be back as soon as we can.” She touched his arm lightly. “She’s strong, Liam. The grief will ease, and she’ll heal.”
    “That she wants to talk to anyone is a relief.” He tried to smile.
    Ashk and Selena hurried down the rise to where their horses waited and galloped away, leaving the Fae Lord who had brought the message trailing behind them.
    When they reached Liam’s house, it was clear by the way Sloane hovered at the front door, watching for them, that something had happened.
    As they reached the door, someone called out, “Hunter!”
    A young Fae Lord trotted over from the stables and handed her a wax-sealed piece of paper. “I was told to hand this to the Bard, or to you, Hunter, if the Bard wasn’t here.”
    Ashk nodded, tucked the paper under her belt, and went inside.
    They found Breanna in the morning room, wrapped in blankets, both hands around a large glass of whiskey.
    Ashk went down on one knee in front of her. Selena sat beside her, putting an arm around Breanna’s shoulders.
    “Breanna?” Ashk touched her knee and realized Breanna was trembling. The woman was strong, but how many blows could she take before she broke?
    “I have to tell you ... warn you ...”
    “Tell me what?”
    “The Gatherer has come.” Breanna began shaking so hard, Selena had to help her raise the glass of whiskey so that she could drink.
    Relief flooded through Ashk. “Morag has come? She’s here?”
    Breanna shook her head. “We gave It food ... and grain for the horse. It went away.”
    It ? “Breanna—”
    “She’s changed!” Breanna’s voice rose, spiked with fear. “She’s been changed!”
    Relief turned into shards of ice that sliced Ashk’s heart. “What do you mean, she’s been changed?”
    Tears rolled down Breanna’s face. “The Gatherer has been changed into a nighthunter.”
    Ashk walked out of the house, bolted for trees on one side of the drive. She collapsed against one, fighting the sick churning in her belly.
    Morag changed into a nighthunter? The Gatherer of Souls changed into a creature that feasted on—
    “Morag,” she whispered. “Mother’s mercy, Morag.”
    “What should we do, Hunter?” Selena asked softly.
    She wasn’t surprised that Selena had followed her out of the house—both because the Huntress cared about people and because she would want answers.
    Ashk straightened up, feeling painfully old, desperately weary. “We do what must be done, Huntress.
    We form the Wild Hunt. We bring up the companies of humans. We fight the battle that must be fought today.”
    “What do we do about the Gatherer?”
    “Leave it alone, Selena.”

    Selena studied her for a moment, then nodded. “You know her best.” She took a deep breath, let it out in a sigh. “What was the message?”
    She’d forgotten about the message. She pulled it out of her belt, broke the seal, and read. “The Black Coats army in the south has been defeated. And the ... the warships that were sent to attack the west were also defeated.”
    “Then this is it. It comes down to us and the Witch’s Hammer. It comes down to what happens on that field today. If we win, it’s over.”
    Ashk refolded the paper and tucked it into her belt. Not quite , she thought grimly. Not quite .

 

     
     

Chapter 51

 

     
     

     
    waning moon
     
    Adolfo watched swollen, putrid flesh push through the rotted skin on the prisoner’s chest—and smiled. A bite to the shoulder, something a healer would think of as a simple wound. But whatever was in a nighthunter’s bite that tainted a wound had spread so swiftly, the black rot had already crept down the prisoner’s arm, crept toward his heart, crept up his neck.
    All it had taken was one bite from him. One. The nighthunters he’d made from small animals would kill a man if there were enough of them, but a man could live after being bitten in a limb—if he was