Valley of Silence (18 page)

“For heaven's sake, Cian, you're next to naked.” Plucking up his shirt, she hurried out after him. “At least put this on. You may not mind the cold, but I mind having one of the guards see you standing here in your altogether. It's not proper.”

“There's a rider coming.”

“What? Where?”

“Due east.”

She looked east, but saw nothing. Still, she didn't doubt him. “A single rider?”

“Two, but the second's being led by the first. They're coming at a gallop.”

With a nod, she strode back into the bedchamber and began to dress. “The guards are instructed not to pass anyone in. I'll have a look. It may be stragglers. If so, we can't leave them outside the gates and unprotected.”

“Invite no one,” Cian ordered as he yanked on his jeans. “Even if they're known to you.”

“I won't, and neither will any of the guards.” With a small pang of regret, she put on her circlet and became queen again. And as queen, she lifted her sword.

“It'll be stragglers,” she said. “In need of food and shelter.”

“And if not?”

“Then they've ridden a long way to die.”

 

W
hen she stood at the post on top of the wall she
could see the riders, or the shape of them. Two as Cian had said, with the first leading the second horse. They wore no cloaks though there was a chill in the air, and a hint of the first frost.

She glanced at Niall who'd been awakened when the guards had spotted the riders. “I'll want a bow.”

Niall gestured to one of the men, took a bow and quiver from him. “Seems fruitless for the enemy to ride straight at us. Two of them against us? And unable to pass through the gates unless we welcome them.”

“Likely they aren't the enemy. But the gates aren't to be raised until we know. Two men,” she murmured as they rode close enough for her to be sure. “The one being led looks to be injured.”

“No,” Cian said after a moment. “Dead.”

“How can you—” Niall cut himself off.

“You're certain?” Moira murmured.

“He's tied to the horse, and he's dead. So's the lead rider, but he's been changed.”

“All right then.” Moira let out a sigh. “Niall, tell the men to keep a sharp eye for others. They're to do nothing without a command. We'll see what this one wants. A deserter?” she said to Cian, then dismissed the idea before he answered. “No, a deserter would have gone as far east or north as possible, and kept hidden.”

“Could be he thinks he has something to trade,” Niall suggested. “Make us think the one he's bringing is still alive, so we'd let them in. Or he's got information he feels we'd value.”

“No harm in listening,” Moira began, then gripped Cian's hand. “The rider. It's Sean. It's Sean, the smithy's son. Oh God. Are you sure he's—”

“I know my own kind.” And with eyes keener than Moira's he recognized the dead. “Lilith sent him—she can afford to lose one so newly changed. She sent him because you'd know him, and feel for him. Don't.”

“He was little more than a boy.”

“Now he's a demon. The other was spared that. Look at me, Moira.” He took her shoulders, turned her to face him. “I'm sorry. It's Tynan.”

“No. No. Tynan's at the base. We had word he reached it safely. Injured, but alive, and safe. It can't be Tynan.”

She pushed away from Cian, leaning on the wall, straining her eyes. She could hear the murmurs now, then the shouts as the men began to recognize Sean. There was hope in the shouts, and welcome.

“It's no longer Sean.” She lifted her voice, cut through the calls of the men. “They killed the one you knew and sent a demon with his face. The gates stay locked, and not a man here will pass what rides here through them. I command it.”

She turned back. Every bone in her body went brittle as she saw Cian had been right. It was Tynan, or Tynan's mauled body, tied to the second horse.

She wanted to weep, wanted to burrow herself into Cian and scream and sob. She wanted to sink to the stones and cry out her grief and her rage.

She stood straight, no longer feeling the wind that blew at her cloak, at her hair. She notched the arrow, and she waited for the vampire to bring its vile gift.

“No one is to speak to it,” she said coldly.

What had been Sean lifted its face, raised a hand to wave to those gathered on the wall.

“Open the gates!” it shouted. “Open the gates! It's Sean, the blacksmith's son. They may be after me still. I've Tynan here. He's badly hurt.”

“You will not pass,” Moira called out. “She killed you only to send you here to die again.”

“Majesty.” It managed an awkward bow as it pulled the horses to a halt. “You know me.”

“Aye, I do. How did Tynan die?”

“He's hurt. He's lost blood. I escaped the demons and made my way to the farm, to the base. But I was weak and hurt myself, and Tynan, bless him, came out to help me. They set upon us. We barely escaped with our lives.”

“You lie. Did you kill him? Did what she made you turn you so you'd kill a friend?”

“My lady.” It broke off when she lifted the bow and aimed the arrow at its heart. “I didn't kill him.” It held up its hands to show them empty of weapons. “It was the prince. The boy.” It giggled, then pressed a hand to its mouth to muffle it in a gesture so like Sean's it ripped her heart. “The prince lured him outside and had the kill. I've only brought him back to you, as the true queen commanded. She sends a message.”

“And what would it be?”

“If you surrender, and accept her as ruler of this world and all others, if you place the sword of Geall in her hand, and set the crown on her head, you'll be spared. You may live out your lives here as you like, for Geall is a small world and of little interest to her.”

“And if we don't?”

He took out a dagger, and leaning over, cut the ropes securing Tynan to the horse. A careless kick sent the body tumbling to the ground. “Then your fate is as his, as will be the fate of every man, every woman, every child who stands against her. You'll be tortured.”

It ripped off its tunic, and the moonlight fell on the burns and gashes yet to heal on its torso. “Any who survive Samhain will be hunted down. We'll rape your women, we'll mutilate your children. When it's done, not a single human heart will beat on Geall. We are forever. You'll never stop the flood of us. Give your answer, and I'll take it to the queen.”

“This is the answer of the true queen of Geall. When the sun rises after Samhain, you and all like you will be dust that blows out to sea on the wind. Nothing will be left of you in Geall.”

She passed her bow back to Niall. “You have your answer.”

“She'll come for you!” it shouted. “And for the traitor to his kind who stands beside you.”

It wheeled the horse, kicked it to a gallop.

On the wall, Moira lifted her sword, and flinging it out, shot a stream of fire. The vampire screamed once as the flames struck, then the ball of fire that was left of it fell to the ground, and went to ash.

“He was of Geall,” Moira murmured, “and deserved to end with its sword. Tynan—” Her throat simply locked.

“I'll bring him in.” Cian touched her shoulder, and looked over her head into Niall's eyes. “He was a good man, and a friend to me.”

Without waiting, Cian vaulted over the wall. He seemed almost to float to the ground.

Niall slapped the back of his hand on the arm of the guard beside him when he saw the man made the sign against evil. “No man stands with me who insults Sir Cian.”

Below, Cian picked Tynan up in his arms and, bearing his weight, looked up and met Moira's eyes.

“Open the gates,” she ordered. “So Sir Cian can bring Tynan home again.”

 

S
he tended the body herself, removing the torn and
filthy clothes.

“Let me do this, Moira.”

She shook her head, and began to wash Tynan's face. “This is for me. We were friends since childhood. I need to do this for him. I don't want Larkin to see him until he's clean.”

Her hands trembled as she brushed the cloth gently over the tears and bites, but she never faltered.

“They were playmates, you see. Larkin and Tynan. Was it the truth, do you think, that the child did this to him?”

When Cian said nothing, she looked over.

“He's her child,” Cian said at length. “He would be vicious. Let me wake Glenna, at least.”

“She was fond of Tynan. Everyone was. No, there's no need for her to come now, so late. They tore my mother like this. Worse, even worse. And I turned away from that. I can't turn away from this.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“You think because I see these wounds, these bites and tears, as if an animal had been at him, I could think you're the same as what did this? Do you think me so weak of mind and heart, Cian?”

“No. I think the woman I saw tonight, the woman I heard, has the strongest mind and heart I've ever known. I never ripped at a human that way.”

He steadied himself as she turned those ravaged eyes on his again. “I need you to know that, at least. Of all the things I've done, and some were unimaginably cruel, I never did what was done to him.”

“You killed more cleanly. More efficiently.”

He felt the words slice into him. “Yes.”

Moira nodded. “Lilith didn't train you, but abandoned you, so you have little of her in you. Not like this boy must. And, I think, some manner of your upbringing remained. Just as I heard Sean's tone, saw his mannerisms in that thing tonight, so some of yours stayed as they were. I know you're not human, Cian, just as I know you're not a monster. And I know there's some of both in you that has you constantly struggling to keep them balanced.”

She washed Tynan's body as gently as she would have washed a child. When she was done she began to dress him in the clothes she'd had sent over from his quarters.

“Let me do that, Moira, for God's sake.”

“I know you mean well. I know you're thinking of me. But I need to do this one thing for him. He was the first to kiss me.” Her voice wavered a bit before she clamped down and finished. “When I was fourteen, and he two years older. It was very sweet, very gentle. Shy for both of us, as a first kiss in the springtime should be. I loved him. I think in a way like you loved King. She's taken that from us, Cian. Taken them from us, but not the love.”

“I swear before any gods you wish, I'll end her for you.”

“One of us will.” She bent, brushed her lips over Tynan's cold cheek.

Then she stepped back from him.

Now she sank to the floor on a keening wail. When Cian knelt beside her, she curled into him and wept out her shattered heart.

T
hey buried Tynan on a brilliant morning with
cloud shadows dancing over the hills and a lark singing joyfully in a rowan tree. The holy man blessed the ground before they lowered him into it, with a fife and drum sounding the dirge.

All who knew him, and many who didn't, were there so that mourners stretched across the sun-drenched graveyard and up the rise toward the castle. The three flags of Geall flew at half staff.

Moira stood beside Larkin, dry-eyed. Though she heard Tynan's mother weeping, she knew her time for tears had passed. The others of her circle stood behind her, and she could feel them, took some comfort from that.

Now two stones would stand for friends here, along with the markers for her parents. All of them victims of a war that had raged long before she'd known of it. And would end with her, one way or another.

At last, she moved away to give the last moments to the family and their privacy. When Larkin took her hand, she gripped it firmly. She looked at Cian, could just see his eyes under the shadow of his hood. Then she looked at the others.

“We have work to do. Larkin and I need to speak with Tynan's family again, then we'll meet in the parlor.”

“We'll head in now.” Blair stepped forward, laid her cheek against Larkin's. Moira couldn't hear the words Blair murmured to him, but Larkin released her hand and pulled Blair into a hard embrace.

“We'll be in shortly.” Larkin eased back, then took Moira's hand again. She would have sworn she could feel his grief coming through his skin.

Before Moira could move back toward the family, Tynan's mother broke away from her husband and pushed her way to Cian. Her eyes were still spilling tears.

“It's your kind did this. Your kind killed my boy.”

Hoyt made a move forward, but Cian shifted to block his path. “Yes.”

“You should be in hell instead of my boy being in the ground.”

“Yes,” Cian repeated.

Moira stepped up to put an arm around her, but the woman shook it off. “You, all of you.” She whirled, jabbing out an accusing finger. “You care more about this
thing
than my boy. Now he's dead. He's dead. And you have no right to stand here by his grave.” She spat at Cian's feet.

As she wept into her hands, her husband and daughters carried her off.

“I'm sorry,” Moira murmured. “I'll speak with her.”

“Leave her be. She wasn't wrong.” Saying nothing more, Cian walked away from the fresh grave, and the lines of stones that marked the dead.

Niall caught up with him as he reached the gates. “Sir Cian, a word with you.”

“You can have as many words as you want once I'm out of this shagging sun.”

He didn't know why he'd gone to the graveyard. He'd seen more than enough dead in his time, heard more than enough weeping for them. Tynan's mother wasn't the only one who looked at him with fear and hate, and here he was out in the daylight with the only things between him and the killing sun some rough cloth and a charm.

His blood cooled the moment he was inside, out of the light.

“Say what you need to say.” Cian shoved back the detested hood of the cloak.

“So I will.” A big man with his usually cheerful face tight and grim, Niall nodded sharply. His wide hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he looked hard into Cian's eyes. “Tynan was a friend, and one of the best men I've known.”

“You're saying nothing I haven't heard before.”

“Well, you haven't heard me say it, have you? I saw what had become of Sean, what had been a harmless and often foolish lad. I saw him kick Tynan's body from the horse as if it were no more than offal to be tossed in a ditch.”

“To him it wasn't any more than that.”

Again, Niall nodded, and his fingers tightened on the sword's hilt. “Aye, that's what was made of him. And of you. But I watched you lift Tynan's body off the ground. I watched you carry it in, as a man would carry a fallen friend. I saw none of what was Sean in you. Tynan's mother's grieving. He was her first-born, and she's mad with grief. And she was wrong in what she said to you by his grave. He'd not have wanted you insulted by his blood. So as his friend, I'm telling you that. And I'm telling you any man who fights with me fights with you. That's my word on it.”

He lifted his hand from the hilt of his sword and held it out to Cian.

Humans never failed to surprise him. Irritate, annoy, amuse, occasionally educate. But most of all they continued to surprise him with the twists and turns of their minds and hearts.

He supposed that was one reason he'd been able to live among them so long and still be interested.

“I'll thank you for it. But before you take my hand, you need to know that what was in Sean is in me. There's a thin difference.”

“Not thin by my measure. And I'm thinking you'll use what's in you to fight. I'll put my back to yours, Sir Cian. And my hand's still out.”

Cian shook it. “I'm grateful,” he said. But when he went up the stairs, he went alone.

 

H
eartsick, Moira walked back to the castle
.
There
was little time for grieving, she knew, little time for comfort. What Lilith had done to Sean, to Tynan, she'd done to cut at their hearts. And she'd aimed well.

So they would heal them now with action, with movement.

“Can the dragons be used? Are they trained enough to carry men?”

“They're smart, and accommodating,” Larkin told her. “Easily ridden by any who have a good seat, and aren't afraid of the height. But so far, it's been like a game for them. I can't say how they'll do in battle.”

“For now, it's more a matter of transportation. You'd know the best of them, you and Blair. We'll need—” She broke off as her aunt crossed the courtyard to her. “Deirdre.” She kissed her aunt's cheek, held an extra moment. She knew Larkin's and Tynan's mothers were close. “How is she?”

“She's prostrate. Inconsolable.” Deirdre's eyes, swollen from her own tears, locked on Larkin's face. “As any mother would be.”

He embraced her. “Don't fret for me, or for Oran.”

“Now you ask the impossible.” Still she smiled a little. But the smile faded as she turned to Moira again. “I know this is a difficult time, and you've much on your mind, on your heart. But I would speak with you. Privately.”

“Of course. I'll join you shortly,” she said to the others, then laid her arm around Deirdre's shoulders. “We'll go to my sitting room. You'll have tea.”

“You needn't trouble.”

“It'll do us both good.” She caught the eye of a servant as they passed into the hall, and asked that tea be brought up.

“And Sinann?” Moira continued as they climbed the stairs.

“Fatigued, and full of grief for Tynan, of worry for her husband, her brothers. I couldn't allow her to go to the grave today, and made her rest. I worry for her, and the babe she carries, her other children.”

“She's strong, and has you to tend her.”

“Will it be enough if Phelan falls as Tynan has? If Oran has already…”

“It must be. We have no choice in this. None of us.”

“No choice, but for war.” Deirdre entered the sitting room, took a chair. Her face, framed by her wimple, was older than it had been weeks before.

“If we don't fight they'll slaughter us, as they did Tynan. Or do what they did to poor Sean.” Moira went to the hearth to add bricks to the fire. Despite the bright autumn sun, she was cold to the bone.

“And fighting them, how many will die? How many will be slaughtered?”

Moira straightened, and turned. Her aunt wasn't the only one who would question, who would look to their queen for the impossible answer.

“How can I say? What would you have me do? You who were confidant to my mother before she was queen, and all during her reign. What would you have had her do?”

“The gods have charged you. Who am I to say?”

“My blood.”

Deirdre sighed, looked down at her hands lying empty in her lap. “I'm weary, to the bottom of my soul. My daughter fears for her husband, as I do for mine. And for my sons. My friend buried her child today. And I know there is no choice in this, Moira. This blight has come to us, and must be cut out.”

A servant hurried in with the tea.

“Leave it please,” Moira said. “I'll pour. Is food being sent to the parlor?”

The young girl curtseyed. “Aye, Your Majesty. The cook was seeing to it when I left with the tea.”

“Thank you. That's all then.”

Moira sat, poured out the tea. “There's biscuits as well. It's good to have small pleasures in hard times.”

“It's pleasures in hard times I need to speak with you about.”

Moira passed the cup. “Is there something I can do to ease your heart? Sinann's and the children's?”

“There is.” Deirdre took a small sip of the tea before setting the cup aside. “Moira, your mother was my dearest friend in this world, and so I sit here in her stead, and I speak to you as I would my own daughter.”

“I'd have it no other way.”

“When you spoke of this war that's upon us, you spoke of no choice. But there are other choices you've made. A woman's choices.”

Understanding, Moira sat back. “I have.”

“As queen, one who's claimed herself a warrior, one who's proven herself as one, you have the right, even the duty, to use any and all weapons that come to your hand to protect your people.”

“I do, and I will.”

“This Cian who comes here from another time and place. You believe the gods sent him.”

“I know it. He fought by your own son. He saved my life. Would you sit here and look at me, and damn him as Tynan's mother damned him?”

“No.” Deirdre took a careful breath. “In this matter of war, he is a weapon. By using him you may save yourself, my sons, all of us.”

“You're mistaken,” Moira said evenly. “He's not to be used like a sword. What he's done, and what he will do to cut out this blight, he does of his own will.”

“A demon's will.”

Moira's eyes chilled. “As you like.”

“And you've taken this demon to your bed.”

“I've taken Cian to my bed.”

“How can you do this thing? Moira, Moira.” She reached out her hands. “He's not human, yet you gave yourself to him. What good can come of it?”

“Much has already, for me.”

Deirdre sat back a moment, pressed her fingers to her eyes. “Do you think the gods sent him to you for this?”

“I can't say. Did you ask yourself that question when you took my uncle?”

“How can you compare?” Deirdre snapped. “Have you no shame, no pride?”

“No shame, and considerable pride. I love him, and he loves me.”

“How can a demon love?”

“How can a demon risk his life, time and again, to save humanity?”

“It's not his bravery I question, but your judgment. Do you think I've forgotten what it is to be young, to be stirred, to be foolish? But you're queen, and you have responsibility to your crown, your people.”

“I live and breathe that responsibility, every moment, every day.”

“And at night you bed a vampire.”

Unable to sit any longer, Moira rose, moved to the window. The sun still shone, she thought, bright and gold. It sparkled on the grass, on the river, on the gossamer wings of dragons who flew lazy loops around Castle Geall.

“I don't ask you to understand. I demand your respect.”

“Do you speak to me as my niece, or as the queen?”

She turned back, framed by the window and the sunlight. “The gods have deemed me both. You come to me out of concern, and that I accept. But you also come with condemnation, and that I don't. I trust Cian with my life. It's my right, my choice, to trust him with my body.”

“And what of your people? What of those who question how their queen could take one of these creatures of darkness as lover?”

“Are all men good, Aunt? Are they all kind and good and strong? Are we as we're made, or how we choose to make ourselves thereafter? I'll say this about my people, about those I'll give my life fighting to defend. They have more important things to worry about, to think about, to talk about than what their queen does in the privacy of her bedchamber.”

Deirdre got to her feet. “And when this war is over, will you continue this? Will you put this thing you love on the throne at your side?”

The sun still shone, Moira thought again, even when the heart goes bleak. “When this is over, if we live, he'll go back to his time and his place. I'll never see him again. If we lose, I'll give my life. If we win, I'll forfeit my heart. Don't speak to me of choices, of responsibilities.”

“You'll forget him. When this is done, you'll forget him and this momentary madness.”

“Look at me,” Moira said quietly. “You know I won't.”

“No.” Deirdre's eyes swam with tears. “You won't. I'd spare you from this.”

“I wouldn't. Not a moment of it. I've been more alive with him than I ever was before, or will be again. So no, not a moment of it.”

 

T
hey were all gathered in the parlor around the
table and food when Moira came in. Glenna reached over to remove a cover from the plate at the head of the table.

“It should still be warm,” she told Moira. “Don't waste it.”

“I won't. We need to eat, to stay strong.” But she stared at the food on her plate as if it were bitter medicine.

“So.” Blair gave her a bright smile. “How's your day been so far?”

The laugh, however quick and humorless, eased some of the knots in Moira's stomach. “Crappy. That would be the word, wouldn't it?”