Shadows and Light (8 page)

She followed him until they came to a meadow deep in the heart of the woods. He bounded forward into the sunlight. She remained at the edge of the woods, in the shadows, pained by the knowledge that he was no longer fast enough to outrun a predator, no longer strong enough to stand and fight and win.

He looked back at her, waiting.

He used to bring her to this meadow to play. He’d change into the stag and let her chase him. When she was young, he ran just fast enough to let her almost catch him, just fast enough not to bruise her pride. When she got a little older, he ran faster, making her work to keep up with him.

She remembered the day when she caught up to him, ran side by side with him. She remembered the day when she realized she could outrun him — and still ran beside him.

And she remembered the day when he stopped suddenly and she ran past him. They’d stared at each other in that sunlit meadow, and she’d felt his silent, final command.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Ashk stepped into the meadow, changed into a shadow hound. The stag bounded away.

Her gray, black-streaked coat stood out against the sunlit green, but in the shadows of the woods, or in the moonlight, she would blend in, a predator who wouldn’t be seen until her fangs sank into a throat. There was nothing in the woods — not stag, not wolf, not wild boar — that could stand against her in this form.

The shadow hound raced after the stag, snarling and snapping at his heels, running just fast enough to give him the thrill of the chase but not fast enough to bruise his pride.

H
earing the bell that rang in the Inquisitors’ study room, Ubel headed for the door that led down to the confession chamber he and the other Inquisitors had helped Master Adolfo create in this country house that had been lent to them by a Sylvalan baron. His stride was swift yet unhurried, the only outward sign of his confidence in the security of his position, which was something the other Inquisitors envied — especially since last autumn when the Master Inquisitor returned from this magic-blighted land to the safety of his own country.

Despite his alacrity in answering the summons, he heard the bell ring again — faintly now, since he’d almost reached the stairs that led to the cellar. The Master must be feeling impatient.

Ubel smiled. Not an indulgent smile, but a smile of relief. Adolfo had been too lenient these last few months, too _ passive. He drank too much, and he no longer exercised his rod to maintain his vigor. The battle he had fought in Sylvalan last summer had left its marks on him — both physically and mentally. But, perhaps, wringing a confession out of this particular captive had restored some of the Master’s potency.

As Ubel entered the confession chamber, Adolfo turned to face him. The Master Inquisitor, the Witch’s Hammer, was a large man, middle-aged and scholar’s face and gentle brown eyes that never revealed the man’s razor-sharp mind or burning dedication to the task that had consumed most of his life.

“Ah, Ubel,” Adolfo said. “My left hand.”

There was something sharp, almost hateful, under the words.

Ubel ignored it. It was one thing for a man like Master Adolfo to want assistance in softening a witch to confess her crimes. It was quite another to
need
assistance. The fight with the Gatherer had left Adolfo with a useless, dead left arm. “What is your will, Master Adolfo?”

“I’m done with the bitch,” Adolfo replied. “She has nothing more to offer us. Take her back to the Old Place where you captured her and release her.”

Ubel looked at the young Fae woman, who was staring at him with terror-blind eyes. She was securely strapped to the worktable, so there was nothing she could do to avoid any of the softening necessary to extract a full confession.

“It’s doubtful there are any Fae remaining in that Old Place to see her,” Ubel said. He’d made sure of that. After he, along with a double handful of Inquisitors and guards, had killed the witches who had lived in that Old Place, his men had waited at the end of the shining road that led to Tir Alainn. When it started to close, the panic-stricken Fae who came down that road to reach the human world were easy targets. A few had escaped the arrows, but far more had fallen. The last one to stumble into the human world before the shining road closed was this young Fae female. He’d captured her and brought her back to the manor house for Master Adolfo to question.

“It doesn’t matter if the Fae see her or not,” Adolfo said. “Someone will find her, sooner or later. She will serve as a warning to everyone in Sylvalan that even the Fae cannot escape the Inquisitors’ justice.”

Ubel nodded, still studying the woman. “We’ll cut the bindings around her legs after we reach the Old Place.”

“There’s no need. She can untie herself once you leave her.”

Ubel looked at the bindings around the woman’s legs. He looked at the hands Adolfo had pounded with a mallet
until all the bones had broken. He smiled. “Very good, Master Adolfo.”

“But take the spiked bridle when you leave,” Adolfo said. “There’s no point in wasting good workmanship. And,” he added softly, “I have hope that I will need that particular bridle again for another Fae bitch.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ubel saw Adolfo shiver, saw the way the older man’s right hand trembled as he brushed it over his head, and knew Adolfo was thinking about the Gatherer. Just as he knew she was the reason the Master Inquisitor hadn’t ventured away from this house since he’d arrived in Sylvalan a few weeks ago to oversee the continued purge of the witches in this land.

“The barons’ council will meet at the end of next week,” Adolfo said after a moment. “Once you’re rid of the bitch, I want you to take three Inquisitors and ride to Durham. Be alert. Listen well. The procedure we introduced in the spring has been successful in solidifying the eastern barons’ position and their alliance with our own goal to rid the land of magic. Now they have to convince the other barons in Sylvalan to follow their lead. I want to know who is resistant. They will have to be dealt with.”

And we’ll walk the streets of Durham pretending to be visitors or merchants from Wolfram, trying to eavesdrop on conversations instead of being able to demand answers from any man, no matter his rank
. “Yes, Master Adolfo,” Ubel replied, then regretted saying anything at that moment. Adolfo wouldn’t ignore the surly tone.

“You have some objection?” Adolfo asked sharply.

Ubel stiffened; then he turned to face Adolfo. “It insults our great work that we must hide who we are, that we must sneak in and out of the villages here like petty thieves.”

Adolfo stared at him long enough to make Ubel uneasy. Then he said gently, “Last year, we came to this land as honest men to help the barons eliminate the magic that stood in men’s way. We did our work openly, educated the
villagers and peasants alike so that they would understand what vile creatures witches truly are and why other females needed to be disciplined to keep them from being ensnared by the Evil One. Because we did the work openly, good men died, Ubel, including my own nephew. When it was over, I was the only one who was still alive.” His right hand lightly touched his left arm. “And even I, the strongest among us, the Master Inquisitor, the Witch’s Hammer …even I did not escape untouched. So we must fight in other ways this time. We must be cautious, careful. We must use all our skills to soften the land and the people until they are ready to yield to everything we will teach them. And they will yield, Ubel. They will yield because there will be no turning back. Then men will rule as they were meant to. But until that time comes, I will not trust the lives of my Inquisitors to the assurances of Sylvalan barons. Not again. So, for now, you must cloak your honesty and do the work secretly.”

Chastened, Ubel looked at the floor. “Yes, Master Adolfo.”

Adolfo walked to the chamber door. He turned, looked back at Ubel. “Keep me informed — and take care, Ubel. The Fae’s presence in this land makes our work twice as dangerous.”

Ubel looked up, stood straight and tall, and said fiercely, “We will rid the world of the witches and the Fae.”

“Yes,” Adolfo replied, giving Ubel a small but approving smile, “we will.”

Ubel waited until he could no longer hear Adolfo’s footsteps before he turned his attention back to the woman strapped on the table.

Her hair, dirty and tangled now, was a plain brown, but there were lighter streaks in it that were almost as blond as his own hair. Her eyes were a greener blue than his own eyes, and her face was shaped just differently enough that she would never be considered pretty in the human world. But it was her pointed ears that revealed the animal inside her — the animal that made her less than human and, therefore,
expendable. If men could not control it or rule over it, a thing had no place in the world. Which meant her kind had to be eliminated because the Fae would never be ruled by men.

And this one wasn’t even significant among her own kind. When he’d ordered his men to capture her, he’d dropped his bow and stripped off his coat, throwing it over her head to confuse her if she tried to change into her other form to escape them. A little brown bird had fluttered beneath his coat.

One of the men had emptied a food sack, and they’d put her in it. He’d felt her frantic movements all through the ride back to the country house.

Just an insignificant little brown bird — with valuable information.

“Change back to your human form,”
Adolfo said.
“We simply want to talk to you. We want to understand the Fae. Change back so we can talk, and then we’ll let you go.”

And, oh, after a bit of softening, how that little bird had sung.

The witches weren’t just the key to keeping the magic alive in the Old Places, they were the key that kept the shining roads open, giving the Fae access to the human world.
That
was why, after the witches in Wolfram had been eliminated, the Fae had disappeared, as well. By destroying one, the Inquisitors could destroy
both
kinds of creatures whose presence threatened men’s ability to rule.

Turning away from the Fae woman, Ubel walked over to the bell rope and pulled it so that the bell would ring in the sequence that told Assistant Inquisitors that their presence was required. He would let the Assistants bring the woman up to the wagon while he prepared for the journey to Durham.

He would be Adolfo’s eyes and ears. He would be the Master’s left hand. And he would make sure he was in a position to know which barons might try to thwart the Master’s great plans for this land.

L
yrra followed behind the packhorse Aiden led. The forest trail they’d taken after leaving the main road wasn’t wide enough for them to ride side by side. Just as well.

Tears stung her eyes. One spilled over, ran down her cheek. She brushed it away, refusing to give in to grief. Aiden would be grieving, too, but both of them needed to stay alert.

The magic in this Old Place was swiftly dying. Which meant the witches who had lived here were already dead. When the Daughters of the House of Gaian fled from an Old Place to escape whoever meant them harm, the magic faded slowly. Being Fae, she could feel the difference.

Aiden had been reluctant to travel farther into the Old Place once they’d gone in far enough to feel the change. But she’d insisted that they needed to find out if any of the Fae whose Clan territory was anchored to this Old Place had managed to escape from Tir Alainn before the shining road through the Veil closed, trapping them beyond the reach of the human world . or even their own kind.

The wind shifted slightly, bringing the smell of decay and rotting flesh.

Aiden reined in suddenly, his attention on a cluster of dead trees they’d have to pass between in order to continue on this trail.

Lyrra studied the trees neighboring the dead ones. What were those dark clumps in the branches?

“Lyrra,” Aiden said in a quiet, strained voice. “Turn the mare. Go back up the trail as fast as you can. We need to
get back to the road or find a meadow, a field. Anything with sunlight.”

“Aiden _”

Pieces of the dark clumps on the trees fell off, spread batlike wings, and flew straight for them.

Nighthunters!

Lyrra wheeled the mare. The horse needed no urging to gallop recklessly back the way they’d come. Fae horses had silent hooves, so she couldn’t hear Aiden’s gelding and the packhorse behind her — but she heard the hungry, angry squeaking of the creatures the black-coated Inquisitors created by twisting the magic in an Old Place. The nighthunters were flesh eaters — and they were soul eaters.

Sunlight, sunlight
, Lyrra chanted silently. They had to get out of the shadows of the woods. The nighthunters didn’t like sunlight. Why hadn’t she yielded to Aiden’s reluctance to enter this Old Place? He’d spent close to a year on the road and would have seen far more Old Places that had been stripped of their magic than she had in the few weeks she’d been traveling with him.

He was behind her, closer to the danger that flew in pursuit. If something happened to him because she’d insisted …

Her mare suddenly veered left, almost throwing Lyrra out of the saddle. She hung on grimly, letting the animal choose the way and hoping the mare’s instinct would get them to safety in time.

It felt like they’d been fleeing for hours when the mare slid down a bank, splashed through the shallow stream, then scrambled up the other bank.

A few heartbeats later, they galloped out of the trees into a sunlit meadow.

Thank you, Mother
, Lyrra thought as she slowed the mare.
Thank you
.

Then she looked back, expecting to see Aiden. And saw nothing but the trees.

She reined the mare to a stop. Slid out of the saddle. Stared at the trees.

Behind her a horse neighed a greeting.

Spinning around, Lyrra saw the black-haired woman riding toward her.

No
, Lyrra thought, sinking to the ground. Not
Morag. Not the Gatherer. Go away! He doesn’t need you! It’s not his time! Aiden!