The Pillars Of The World

the shadow hounds snarled a soft warning.
    “Someone’s coming,” Dianna said.
    A queer light came into Lucian’s eyes as he unlocked the front door and stepped outside to meet their visitor.
    Dianna went out the kitchen door, intending to come around the side of the cottage. She paused long enough to order the pack of shadow hounds to stay, then snuck to a spot where she could peer around a corner.
    Several young men dismounted, handed their horses’ reins to other companions, then strode toward the cottage. Four of those men paused long enough to light torches.
    One man, who seemed to be their leader, stepped forward. He looked at Lucian and sneered. “If it isn’t the witch’s fancy Lord. You’d best be on your way. We have business here. And the witch won’t be back to lift her skirts for you anymore.”
    “Where is she?” Lucian growled.
    “Well, I’ll tell you,” the man said. “The Master Inquisitor is questioning her about the terrible crimes she’s committed against the good people of Ridgeley.” He let out a nasty laugh. “They call him the Witch’s Hammer. By the time he’s done persuading her to confess, I don’t think any man will be interested in lifting her skirts. Even a fancy Lord like you.”
    Mother’s mercy, Dianna thought. Ari was in the hands of the witch killers. Morag had been right. Some of the Fae should have stayed here to keep watch and to protect. But . . . Morag had been here. She was the one who should have stayed instead of tearing off to Tir Alainn to embroil them all in what was most likely another silly argument about letting Ari leave Brightwood in order to marry that Neall. Now, because of Morag , this part of Tir Alainn was more at risk than ever.
    “What is your business here?” Lucian said.
    The man sneered again. “It’s daylight. What do you think we need torches for?” He paused. “You do know about fire, don’t you?”
    Dianna shuddered. She was glad she couldn’t see Lucian’s face.
    “Yes,” Lucian said softly. He looked at the cottage. “Fire warms.” He looked back at the men. “And. It.
    Burns .”
    At that moment, the torches became balls of fire that engulfed the men holding them.
    The other men stared at their companions for a moment, then turned and ran for the horses.
    Screaming, the burning men tried to run after their friends, but only managed a few steps before they fell.
    One of them rolled back and forth on the road, trying to smother the flames.
    It will do you no good , Dianna thought with fierce satisfaction. That fire will burn as long as he commands it to burn .
    The horses’ reins burst into flames, burning the hands of the men who held them. The terrified animals reared. The reins snapped, and the horses bolted before the other men could reach them.
    A black stallion suddenly stood in the road where Lucian had been. Flames flickered through his mane and tail. Sparks leaped from his hooves. He charged down the road, straight toward the men who were now watching him with terrified eyes.
    They threw themselves to the ground, rolling to escape his hooves.
    He kept galloping down the road, heading for the village.
    The men just stayed where they had fallen, watching him.
    Dianna smiled viciously. It wasn’t over yet. She ran to the back of the cottage, mounted her pale mare, and signaled her shadow hounds to go around the other side of the cottage. She trotted out to the road just as the men were getting to their feet.
    “You want a hunt?” she taunted. “Then we’ll hunt.”
    Some of the men turned toward Brightwood, as if intending to flee into the woods. But the shadow hounds flowed around the cottage at that moment, and the men turned and ran in the other direction.
    That was good. She didn’t want them touching Brightwood. And they wouldn’t. Not ever again.
    She went back around the cottage so the mare wouldn’t have to walk between the burned bodies. She watched the fleeing men and smiled. Fear made feet swift. But not swift enough.
    “Catch them,” she said.
    The shadow hounds raced after the men. And the Huntress raced with them.
    “Fetch the witch,” Adolfo told two of his guards. “It’s time to take care of Baron Felston’s problem.”
    As Neall rode up to the manor house’s kitchen door, one of the men standing near the stables hurried to meet him.
    “You’d best be gone, Neall,” he said. “You know you’re not welcome here.”
    Neall dismounted, then looked at the man. The words had