The Stag Lord (21 page)

“Daaaad!” Cor wiggled free, swiping at his face with the back of his hand, unable to hide a grin. The other Knights chuckled.

Walking across the road, they all took a few minutes to enjoy the view. Below them to the east, High Springs spread out like a miniature toy city under a sky the shade of blue found only at high, dry elevations. Beyond the city, the plains stretched to the horizon—next stop, Kansas. At their feet, a dirt path, treacherous with scree, plunged downhill and disappeared into the woods.

In single file, they started down the slope, their footsteps silent from years of training and hunting, blades drawn. After about twenty yards, the trail leveled out. Hugh led the way while James and Rory, with Cor between them, followed a few feet behind. Shay and Bann took the hind end.

“I'll play rear guard for now.” Shay shooed Bann ahead of her. To her astonishment, he simply nodded. “What? No Knightly protests about how dangerous the rear position is or how ladies should go first?” She scanned the forest shadows for any sign of goblins, with the occasional glance ahead to admire the view of Bann—or rather, Bann's
butt
—in faded jeans.

“You're carrying a weapon. I thought it prudent to agree with you.”

“Wise man.”

For half an hour, they hiked in silence, weapons held at the ready. Around them, scrub oaks, their leaves the exact shade of bronze as the hunters' blades, mingled with the darker green of pine and fir. Massive granite boulders, leftovers from the last ice age, were scattered about, ignoring the trees and bushes trying to grow around them.

A scrabbling sound yanked Shay's head to one side. She slowed, pulse quickening as she tried to locate the source.

“A squirrel, nothing more,” Bann said over his shoulder. “It just moved to the far side of the trunk of that large pine on your left.” He kept walking.

Shay lengthened her stride to catch up. “I knew that. I was just…” Her voice faded when a crow cawed twice from an upper branch of the pine. She froze, then looked up and scanned the sky for more of the birds. “Just the one,” she whispered to Bann, who had also stopped a stride ahead. “Must be a small pack of Amandán.”

“Perhaps. Those trickster birds sometimes sound a false warning just for sport.” Bann cocked his head, listening. Ahead of them, the other Knights had paused, facing outward and forming a defensive circle around Cor. A second crow soared in and joined the first one with a clap of ebony wings. Cawing in tandem, they peered down their beaks at the Tuatha Dé Danaan.

“This could get interesting.” Turning, Shay took a position back to back with Bann, leaving a few feet between them. She raised her weapon. A thrill, not unlike the thrill of sex, shot through her body. For a moment, the forest held its breath. So did she.

Then the forest exhaled goblins.

18

S
TANDING ON TIPTOE,
C
OR
strained to see over the shoulders of the three Knights surrounding him. Only a moment ago, they had shoved him inside the protective ring, Hugh growling at him to keep still and keep quiet.

Giving up, he hunkered down and peered between their bodies. He caught a glimpse of his father standing in the middle of the path a few yards away. Even though the dappled shadows hid his face, Cor could tell from his father's stance that something was not right. Not right at all. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. There was no sign of the Healer.

“Where's Shay?” he whispered.

“She's behind your dad,” Rory whispered back.

“Why is she—?”

Yowls ripped the air as forms burst out of the undergrowth around them. Cor jumped with a squeak he hoped no one heard. His knife tumbled from his fingers. Dropping to the ground, he scrabbled for it, snatching frantically at the hilt as boots rampaged around his fingers. “No!” He groaned when Rory stomped on the blade and snapped it in half. Grabbing the maimed weapon anyway, he rose into a half-crouch, dodging knees and flying elbows. His bladder gave a little squirt as he caught his first real glimpse of the beasts.

Apelike and man-size, the creatures were covered in mossy green pelts. Square yellow teeth flashed in open maws while black-tipped fingers scrabbled and clawed at the hunters.
‘Tis their touch that kills
, his father's voice echoed in his head.
The
poc sídhe,
also known as the fairy stroke. One touch of a black-tipped finger can kill instantly, be you Fey or mortal. And while the beasties still fear humans, they have sworn to kill every Tuatha Dé Danaan in order to regain control of Ireland
. The reek from their hides and mouths, a stench that reminded Cor of burnt rubber, made his breakfast rise in his throat, trying for an encore appearance. Vaguely, he could hear his father shouting something, Shay answering back. It sounded like they were arguing.

He staggered a step when James bumped into him. The Knight's knife traced a pattern in the air as he repelled the creature. Dodging the paws seeking to scramble his brain, James set his feet and buried the blade in the goblin's chest with a shout, then yanked it free. The sound of knife puncturing skin reminded Cor of the leather dummy in Shay's backyard. The Amandán exploded into a gray-green dust cloud. It coated James, then drifted back over Cor. He gagged at the taste of goblin ash on his lips. Another cloud drifted through the air as Hugh and Rory scored their own hits. Bending over, Cor spat to one side, then straightened.

Screaming like some New World banshees, a mob of Amandán barreled into the Knights, their thick skulls battering rams. Rory flew backward with a grunt. While James reached for his cousin sprawled in the dirt—the downed Knight with a
what the hell
look on his face—Hugh held back the mob, knife whirling in a blur. Both James and Hugh were laughing so hard at Rory, Cor wondered how they could breathe and fight at the same time.

Looking around, he moaned in panic.
Dad's going to kill me
! He realized he was now
outside
the circle of Knights.
It's not my fault! I stayed right where they told me to
, he screamed in his head. Before he could move, a hand grabbed his hood and yanked him backward so hard, his guts took a moment to catch up.

“Cor! What the hell?”

Shay pushed him against a granite boulder. Breathless, but still clutching what was left of his weapon, he gasped. “It's not my fault.”

Face streaked with sweat and goblin ash, she glanced past him at her uncle and cousins. “Yeah, I guess I can see that. Sorry.”

“S'kay. Um…” He held out the broken blade.

“Actually, this worked out—you really should watch this.” She pointed at Bann standing a few yards away.

With a blade in each hand, the Knight stood in the center of a pack of Amandán with an almost casual attitude, arms loose by his sides. A smile played around the corners of his mouth. All around him were molehills of ash. Tendrils of powder floated on the breeze, adding more goblin stink to the air as they drifted away into the woods like the smoky haze from a wildfire. Shifting their feet nervously, the creatures snapped and growled at each other, trying
not
to be the first to charge.

As he watched, his father began chanting. Goosebumps broke out on Cor's arms as the deep voice rose in Song:

I am a wind on the sea,

I am a wave of the ocean
,

I am the roar of the sea
,

I am a bull of seven battles
,

I am a hawk on the cliff
,

I am a teardrop of sunlight
,

I am a gentle herb
,

I am a boar enraged
,

I am a salmon in a pool
,

I am a lake in a plain
,

I am the vigor of man
,

I am the meaning of poetry
,

I am a spear on the attack, pouring forth combat
,

I am the god who fires your mind
.

As his father continued to chant, Cor tugged on Shay's sleeve. “Why don't they all charge him at once?” Even as he asked, he cringed at the words, certain that by saying them aloud, he'd somehow make it come true.

“They've tried twice now. He's just too fast.” She let out a low whistle. “By the Goddess, I thought
my
guys were pretty good.” She gestured with her chin to the others who were mocking Rory while they cleaned up the remaining goblins. “And they are. But your dad is something else.”

Counting the number of creatures encircling his father, Cor gulped. “Is he going to be okay?”

“
Ppfftt
.” Shay blew a raspberry. That action alone eased Cor's dread. “Kiddo, I've tried
twice
to go help him, but
no
.” She raised her voice. “Clearly, he doesn't believe
in sharing
. Wants them
all to himself
. Don't you, Boru?”

“Go find yer own to play with,” he shouted back, laughter in his voice. “There's more than enough without ye trying to thieve mine, woman. Why, I've just got this lot trained. Dinna I, ye manky beasties?” He stomped a foot at them. The ones in the front row scrambled out of the way, desperate to avoid the knives that had destroyed more than half their numbers in less than four minutes.

Cor almost passed out when a group behind his father decided to charge. Even as he opened his mouth to warn him, the goblins lunged for the Knight, fingers outstretched.

His father spun on his toes. A blur of motion. A flash of bronze.

Five Amandán stood in shock. Fingerless. They stared at their paws, suddenly small knobs without the appendages. Then, with a
ka-whoof
, they exploded as a group. The rest turned and fled into the woods. Cor just knew if they had tails, they would be well and truly tucked.

“Whoa,” Shay and Cor breathed at the same time.

Wiping his knives on his jeans, Bann sauntered over, chest heaving. Ash coated one side of his face like they were part of a weird parody of
Braveheart
. He spat once. “Well, that was grand fun.”

“Show-off.” Shay snorted. “Were you trying to impress me?”

“Oh, aye.” Bann's teeth flashed white in the mask of goblin remains. He finished cleaning his blades. Shoving one back in a holster, he kept the other one out. “And were you?”

Shay shrugged. “Meh.”

“I'll take that as a yes.”

An odd joy oozed from Cor's father. It seemed to grow when Hugh and the younger Knights joined them, all talking and laughing at once, Rory still as red-faced as his hair.

Cor looked down at his knife. Hating to destroy his dad's mood, but knowing putting it off would only throw him arse over teakettle into a bog of troubles, he took a deep breath, certain it was his last.

“Um, Dad?”

“A moment, son.”

Cor waited the obligatory count of ten, then tried again. “Dad, I have to tell you something.” He held up his weapon and steeled himself. “I broke your knife.”

The other hunters exchanged grins when Bann plucked the blade from Cor's hand. “And how did this happen?”

“I dropped it.” He just knew his father was going to yell at him in front of everyone. Or worse. “I didn't mean to. I was holding it and—”

Rory took the broken blade from Bann. “
I
broke it. I stepped on it during the first skirmish.”

“Actually.” Hugh indicated for Rory to pass him the blade. “I am to blame. I should have kept the lad closer to me instead of—” He blinked in surprise when James took the knife next.

“Nope, my fault. I bumped into Cor and made him drop it.” He passed it to Shay. “Your turn.”

She scrunched up her face for a moment, turning the knife to and fro. “Um…it's my fault because…” She clucked her tongue a few times, than gave up. “Yeah, I got nothing.” She handed it back to Cor. “Sorry, buddy.”

Cor opened and closed his mouth in confusion when they all burst out laughing.
Sometimes, I just don't get grown-ups
.

19

B
ANN BLINKED AWAKE.
T
HE
dream that had jerked him out of sleep faded, leaving a trace of a memory of water. Then even the trace faded, too. With a yawn, he stretched, grunting at the satisfying pop of his spine. One hand reached for the knife on the floor beside his bed while his eyes swept the room, an old habit. A few feet away, Cor was a boy-sized lump under the comforter in the middle of the other bed.

The door was shut. Bann had closed it before retiring, just in case, for some reason, Shay had decided to allow Max the run of the house. Nothing short of a closed door would stop the dog from making a beeline for Cor whenever possible. And vice versa.

Sitting further up, he pushed the curtain aside on the window next to his bed with the tip of the knife and peered out. The front yard was empty, as was the street leading south. Almost out of view, his truck sat tucked around the corner of the house; only its fender poked out. To the east, a streak of pale blue on the horizon marked the beginning of the new day, that in-between time when magic happened. Not that Bann believed in magic anymore.

Well, maybe just a little.

Knowing he would never get back to sleep, he rose, dressing as quietly as he could, one eye on his sleeping son, hoping for a few minutes alone before buckling on fatherhood for another day. Not that he didn't love his son beyond insanity, but still…

As he tugged on briefs and jeans, he wondered briefly when he had switched back to his old habit of sleeping in the nude. He picked up his knife and T-shirt, then eased out of the room on soundless feet. Closing the door with a wary snick, he paused in the hallway and stared down the dim hall at Shay's door.

For the past few days, ever since the hunt, he'd found himself comparing Shay to his wife. Elizabeth, a beautiful and highly refined woman from one of the oldest and most prominent Fey families, who'd had high standards and even higher disdain for those who did not meet them. Bann had often wondered if she was more enamored with the idea of wedding the descendent of the High King than with the descendent himself. The first few years of their marriage had been marked with an endless procession of soirées amongst the other elite clans of the East Coast who were eager to meet the long-son of the Boru. A Knight for whom those parties were endured rather than enjoyed. But later, as the years passed, Elizabeth had grown disappointed in who and what he was—a roughhewn bogtrotter from the Old Country, with archaic manners and a hunter's mentality, both out of place in the twenty-first century. His insistence that they live a simpler lifestyle than Elizabeth was accustomed to—which was followed by a series of arguments that flayed both of them—had been the first stake in the heart of their marriage. Cor's arrival had helped bring them together for a few years, until Bann began talking of training their son to hunt. That's when the real battle had begun. A war made up of brutal skirmishes—each side determined to win, whatever the cost.