A Summoner's Tale - The Vampire's Confessor (Black Swan 3)

by Danann, Victoria

  "Chickens and ducks are no' up at this time of the night."

  "Really?" Kay put a little more challenge into his tone. "Why don't you run get me somebody who speaks Anglish?"

  "Wait here." The panel slid closed.

  After five minutes, which seemed like twenty waiting in the cold with nothing to do but wait, Kay was about to pull the rope a second time when the panel door slid open again.

  "What do you want?" It was a different elf.

  "I have to get inside this wall."

  "Why?"

  "Because I have a friend who's gone missing and I'm going to find her."

  "You're mistaken. No one is missin'. And New Forest females do no' have 'friends' the likes of you."

  "It's you who's mistaken and it's I who am out of patience and about to start a countdown to gate demolition."

  "Who are you?"

  "My name is Caelian."

  "Kay?" Liam asked.

  "Yes. Kay." The panel slid closed and the hinges on the gate creaked an announcement that it was opening. Kay waved to the driver and walked inside. "What brin's you to Black-on-Tarry, sir?"

  "I need to get to Rammel's getaway."

  "Who are you thinkin' has gone missin'?"

  "Elora Laiken."

  "The princess?" Liam looked at the other elf with a mixture of dread and disbelief. "Her with babe lost in the Forest on a night like this? Sweet Bridget."

  "How do I get there?"

  "The only way is by horse, but you can no' go through the woods at night."

  "I can and I will. Give me a horse."

  "Great Paddy. I may as well be talkin' to Rammel. Are all of ye just alike?"

  "No. We're not. Where's that horse?"

  "You. Can. No'. Go. First off. 'Tis night. Next, t'would be very likely you'd be gettin' lost goin' by yourself e'en in the daylight. You'll be welcome to stay with us, my wife and me, the rest of the night. At first break of morn everyone in the village will be out searchin' alongside you. All here would grieve if the Lady Laiken came to harm."

  While Liam was talking, Kay was walking beside him in the direction of the O'Torvall household.

  "Liam O'Torvall, by the way." He held out his hand.

  Kay shook hands, then said, "Give me a horse and point the way. I'm going tonight."

  Liam opened the door and waved Kay inside. Kay ducked to get under the rough sawn door frame. He had to admit it was warm and pleasant inside Liam's house and a lesser man, or a less loyal man, or a less determined man, might have been tempted to hear the wisdom of waiting until sunrise to continue his journey.

  "Wife." Liam raised his voice so that he could be heard in the next room. "Come meet this friend of the young prince. Also headstrong and stubborn and certain there's nothin' he can no' do."

  Kay smiled. "Yes. Ram is like that. Now where's that horse? I can pay you for the rental."

  "Now look here." Liam sounded perturbed. "'Tis no' about money. 'Tis about your safety. If some ill befell you out there on the first true night of winter, the young prince would no' be forgivin' me for it anytime soon. I have a duty to him to see that his friend does no' follow a foolish impulse to his own undoin'."

  Kay did not appreciate being called a fool directly or indirectly. Nor did he like being misdirected and put off when he was on a mission.

  "Now you look here, Friar Tuck. I've never stolen a thing in my life, not so much as a penny from my mother's purse, but I'm taking a horse and going to find Rammel Hawking tonight! With or without your help."

  While Liam stared at Kay, a flush of anger rose in his cheeks. Before he could say or do anything more, a middle aged female shuffled into the room yawning and pushing at tousled hair. "Liam O'Torvall, what in Bridget's name is the shoutin' about? You and the giant are about to wake the dead."

  Both men looked at Liam's wife. "Moira, this is Kay, the friend Rammel speaks of."

  Moira regarded Kay for a few seconds. "Good e'en, friend. Why can you no' wait till the morn for your errand?"

  "Elora is missin'," Liam told his wife.

  "And Ram needs me," Kay added.

  "Indeed." She nodded at both men now fully awake. "Well, 'tis only one thing to do." Again, both men stared at her, curious to hear what she would say. She began pushing Liam toward the door. "Go wake Able Hannyran and brin' him here. The boy can guide Mr. Kay to the cottage e'en at night."

  Liam allowed his wife to push him through the door thinking that women are prone to be too smart for their own good.

  "Be sure he's dressed warm!" She shut the door behind her husband and turned to Kay. "Are you peckish?"

  "No ma'am. Just anxious."

  She nodded. "Here then. Let's have a look." She walked around Kay. "'Tis too cold to be ridin' with no coverin' for your head."

  "I have gloves." He pulled his thin, soft, Italian leather dress gloves from his coat pockets. She nodded again but looked unimpressed. "Let's get some warm ale in you afore you start away."

  "Thank you, ma'am. I'd like that very much. Irish Whiskey would be even better?"

  "Aye. 'Twould, but I have none for ye tonight." She put a couple of logs on the fire, poked them until a blaze started then disappeared to the back of the house. When she returned she put a tankard of ale on the hearth next to the fire then pressed a quilted cloth into Kay's hand. "Watch that close or 'tis likely to get too hot." She was gone again.

  After a few minutes Kay used the towel to pull the tankard away from the fire. Since no one was watching, he dipped a finger into the liquid to test the temperature. Satisfied he tipped the pewter pitcher up and let the thick, rich red ale slide down his throat. He had entered the O'Torvall residence believing that nothing on earth could be better than old Irish malt whiskey, but he would be leaving with a certainty that no beverage in the known world could touch Mrs. O'Torvall's ale.

  Between the alcohol and the warm liquid, he was feeling more than ready to take on a cold winter's night ride. When he was nearing the bottom of the container, the door opened and seven people crowded into the small space.

  Moira came from the back room with both brows raised at Liam.

  By way of explanation he said, "The entire Hannyran family has come to welcome Mr. Kay, my love, and they were no' to be persuaded otherwise."

  A little five-year-old redhead with freckles and pointed ears too big for her head stared at Kay with impossibly large eyes. "I ne'er seen a giant afore."

  Kay laughed out loud which made the little girl jump and take a step back.

  "This is Able." Liam put his hands on the shoulders of a boy who appeared to be fourteen or so. "You just follow him and he'll get you safe to where you're goin'. He has young eyes for finding the path in the dark and a gift for understandin' the horses." Liam looked at the boy. "Able. Say hello to Mr. Kay."

  Able nodded. "Good E'en, Mr. Kay."

  Kay didn't bother to correct the misimpression regarding his name. He had more important things to worry about than Hobbits calling him Mr. Kay.

  "Able." He offered to shake the boy's hand. "Thank you for getting up in the middle of the night to help me. Can you stay awake?"

  "If 'twill help find the Lady."

  Kay nodded.

  Moira toddled into the room swaying from side to side, penguin fashion, like her knees were too stiff to bend properly. "Here we are. 'Tis the best that can be done in so short a time." She motioned for Kay to sit on a bench. "Sit."

  When he was seated, she pulled a knit cap from where it was held next to her body by her elbow. It had two long braids hanging down on the sides, plaited with yellow yarn to look like blond hair. Of course it was made for a much smaller head, but the wool fibers in the knit were forgiving and stretched so that they accommodated. She tied the ends under his chin in a bow.

  One of the Hannyran boys giggled and quickly put a hand to his mouth trying to stifle it. His father slapped the back of his head as a reminder to be polite, but not hard enough to hurt.

  Moira then produced a l
ong knit scarf and wrapped it around Kay's neck. "There. 'Twill have to do." She looked at Kay suspiciously. "Do you know how to ride a horse?"

  Kay's eyes twinkled as his face slowly spread into a big smile. "Don't let the cashmere coat fool you, ma'am."

  Liam motioned for the boy. "Able and I will go get the horses ready. You stay here and be warm."

  "I'll help," Kay said as he started to rise.

  Liam patted the air. "No. No. Stay inside by the hearth while you can."

  Kay had time for one more ale before his young guide returned to say they were ready. Kay, Moira, and all the rest of the Hannyrans followed Able carrying oil lamps to light the way and talking to each other in hushed tones. Kay realized that a middle-of-the-night visit by a comparatively large stranger might be the most exciting thing to happen there in a generation.

  At 0200 the sat phone rang. Ram's head jerked in that direction.

  "I'll get it," Storm said. He answered, exchanged greetings with Glen, and read the list. "Oh and one more thing. Kay will be arriving without winter gear. See what you can scrounge up in his size." Ram and Litha could hear that there was silence on the other end. It was a challenge that seemed to have stumped even Glen. "Just do the best you can."

  Able stood next to a white, Percheron gelding. "You're lucky this horse is white, sir. 'Twill be easier to follow in the dark. And you will no' be havin' any trouble keepin' up with him."

  Kay turned around to see Able's father leading a monster out of a stall.

  "What the hell is that?" Kay asked with no less awe in his tone than if they had produced a dragon for him to ride.

  Liam chuckled softly at Kay's reaction which was a weird mix between horror, admiration, and love. At eighteen hands high the black horse was enormous, with compact, well-defined muscle that rippled with every movement. He was looking at Kay with an expression that was disconcertingly intelligent for a horse. He shook his head and whinnied from his chest in an unmistakable show of defiance.

  "Rammel's grandfather wanted to be sure these fine horses did no' die out altogether. Cúchulainn here is descended from sixteenth century, Norman battle chargers. There's no' much demand for war horses anymore. And 'tis a good thin'. But still, he's a magnificent creature, is he no'?

  "He is. Not a very French name though."

  "Well, fortunately for him, he finds himself here in Ireland where people do no' eat horses nor care for those who do."

  Kay stepped in front of the beast. "We're not going to have a problem, right?"

  The horse looked like he wasn't ready to render a decision on the question yet. Kay looked over the saddle. They may have produced a horse big enough for him, but the saddle was another story.

  "I think I'll just ride bareback. It will be more comfortable and his body heat will help keep me warm."

  Liam nodded and started forward, but Kay went about pulling off the saddle and blanket and seemed to know what he was doing well enough. He grabbed the horse's mane and was about to swing up, when Moira yelled.

  "Wait!" Moira said it with enough authority to cause Kay to hesitate. He stood still for her while she rushed behind him, took the back hem of his coat in two hands and ripped the back seam all the way up to Kay's buttocks. "There."

  She sounded so proud of herself. He wouldn't tell her she had just destroyed a three-thousand-dollar coat from Neiman Marcus for anything in the world. She'd turned the coat into a duster suitable for riding and, at the moment, that was what was needed.

  "Thank you, ma'am." he said. "That will ride much better."

  She nodded and handed him a blanket. "If you would hold this around your shoulders..."

  He shook his head. "You've done enough. Between the ale, the hat, the scarf, and the reconceived coat, I'll be toasty warm once we get going. Thank you for your hospitality and all your help."

  He swung up and looked like he was born to sit there. As soon as the horse felt him take his seat he recognized Kay as a horseman who wasn't going to be puttin' put up with any equine shenanigans. So he settled right down to the business of being ready for whatever came next, just as a proud war horse should. He even pranced a little with eagerness and made Kay chuckle. Texas quarter horses don't prance.

  Liam asked everyone to leave so that he could say a word to the night riders in private. Moira and the Hannyran family turned away without questioning the request and didn't look back - except for one tiny, little elf who turned around and gave Kay a goodbye wave to go with her big smile. He grinned back at her and mimicked her wave.

  "Rhiannon," her father said, "leave the Berserker to his business."

  When Liam was alone with the horsemen, he produced two battery operated lanterns from under his cloak and gave one to each rider. As he was showing Able how it worked he said, "I've ne'er seen these afore and will prosecute to the fullest extent of the law anyone caught bringin' modernity into the New Forest. Understand?"

  Kay just looked at him. "No. But thank you. We will leave them with Rammel."

  "Stay quiet until you're past the village. No point in wakin' the few who are no' already up."

  Able turned around and gave Kay an expectant grin that could only be described as giddy.

  Good Grendel. He thinks this is an adventure. Was I ever that young?

  As the stable doors opened, Kay contemplated the fact that he had lost that exuberance of youth many vampire hunts ago.

  Kay's horse pranced along behind Able whose mount plodded quietly past the edge of the village. Able stopped his horse until Kay came alongside.

  "Are you ready then, sir?"

  "Yep."

  "Should we turn on the lamps?"

  "With the snow on the ground, I think it will be light enough for me to see. You turn yours on if you like."

  "If you want me to stop, just holler. I'll be listenin' for you. Just keep your eyes on this rump." He patted the Percheron above the tail."

  He heard Able make a sound like, "Hwfitt, Hwfitt," and the Percheron ran ahead. Bad black Cu was practically jumping up and down with the indignity of being left behind. Kay was thrilled. His job just got easier. All he had to do was hang on. The horse was going to do the rest for him. Kay turned the big boy loose and let him charge after the other horse with a confidence that belied riding through a forest at night. In spite of himself, Kay felt an unexpected exhilaration, a thrill of the chase.

  They rode at breakneck speed through the snow with no visible path. It was bitter cold, but Kay was too focused on a wild winter night's ride on the biggest horse he'd ever seen to spend much time thinking about that.

  Heaven read on into the night, not being able to tear herself away from the unlikely, but captivating love story between Stefan and Helene. Occasionally she would doze and dream about wildflowers, a one room mountain cabin, firelight, and making love to a vampire who looked just like Istvan Baka.

  By 0300 the contractions were coming at regular twenty minute intervals. Elora was thirsty and her voice was raspy. As a distraction, she tried to concentrate on the math problem of figuring out exactly how long it had been since she'd taken a drink of water. The answer was too long.

  There, in the still of the longest night of her life, Elora struggled with two kinds of pain. As she rode the primeval nightmare of childbirth, her contractions waxed and waned. In between the birthing pains, sometimes she concentrated on the soft, rhythmic snoring of one of the wolves. But sometimes her thoughts turned to what the Ralengclansman said to her. Last words. Men who know they're dying don't lie.

  Was it possible that her life had been monitored so tightly and thoroughly that she had been presented a stylized version of the truth of her society and had never seen cracks in the illusion? Was it possible that the decision-makers in her clan had acted in ways that had generated enough hatred to make Ralengclan want to kill all of hers? Everyone. Including children, even unborn children. Her good hand automatically went to rest protectively over her stomach at the thought of that.

  It seeme
d impossible, but it would also seem completely illogical that Ralengclan would risk a dangerous dimension slip for no reason other than to assassinate her. They would have to be very afraid of something, to feel she was that important. The fact that they knew she was pregnant and pursued the mission anyway was chilling. What kind of people did that? And the answer rang out in the black stillness. Frightened people.

  What had Laiwynn done to them?

  That question took her to the next logical step. If the powerful people in her clan hadn't known that they were doing something wrong, why would they go to such extreme measures to hide it from her and her siblings? Her parents? Had they known?

  Was her entire life before coming to this dimension a lie? Was nothing what it seemed? And, if that was the case, was she under some obligation to try to get to the truth and make amends?

  She forced those deeply troubling thoughts to the back of her mind for examination at another time and began talking to Helm instead. Maybe it was to help pass the time between contractions or maybe it was because she felt the need to communicate reassurance to her baby, just in case he was feeling some of her worry and stress or, fates forbid, fear.

  Sometimes when she talked out loud one or two of the wolves would heave a big sigh or groan. She tried to entertain herself by imagining different scenarios of what Irish wolves would say if they could talk. Something like...

  "Hey. We do no' do that. Alright?"

  Or.

  "Why do you no' shut the hell up? Tryin' to sleep here."

  Of course there was nothing entertaining about labor. At that stage of labor her abdomen felt as hard as granite when the contraction peaked. When the contractions began to ease away she would be left breathing heavy.

  Elora clung desperately to the picture Song's vision had created and she was so grateful for it.

  "Helm," she said quietly, "I know it's nice and warm in there and I know it's cold and scary out here. But there are wonderful things in the world. There's music for one thing. You already love music. I can tell by the way you kick your little feet to a good tune and try to dance a jig.