The journey down was rough, plowing through the snow, but it wasn’t as difficult as the climb and to my surprise, we made it down with a distinct time advantage. But, staring across the marsh, I realized crossing the bog was going to be hell. The snow was deeper, and it was impossible to see the way we’d come.
“This is a mess. How the hell do we cross this in one piece?” I explained the problem to Myrddin.
He grinned. “Not so much of a problem. Áine is a cross between water and earth in the Dragon Realm, so she can seek out the path and guide us over. Would you like me to take the lead since I can talk to her?”
I wavered. I was still unsure, but if I said no, then we’d be slogging through here far longer than we could afford to. I didn’t want to be caught on the marsh any longer than we had to be. Myrddin might not be our ally—we couldn’t be sure yet—but he wasn’t going to be inclined to take a nosedive into the icy water either. Morio agreed when I pulled him aside to ask his opinion.
But Morgaine worried me. She still hadn’t spoken—the last word she’d said was to call after Mordred, and we’d seen no sign of him. I had a suspicion he might have flung himself into the lake, but we couldn’t know. We might never know.
I slipped my arm around her, and she gave me a blank look. “Cousin? Can you hear me?” Her eyes flickered but she made no reply. “Morgaine, please say something. I know you’re hurting, I know this was a horrible thing for you, but you have to say something.” Still nada. Finally, I brushed her bangs back and the look in her eyes shifted—she was pleading with me, but I didn’t know what she wanted. Then, as quickly as the light had come, it faded and she went back to staring straight ahead.
I motioned to Delilah. “We’re going to have to just take her back to Aeval and see what they can do.”
Myrddin whistled. “We’d best go. Áine says there’s a dark force on the horizon. It will be here within the hour, so let’s be off before it crosses our path.”
The last thing we needed was another encounter, so we headed out, following Áine and Myrddin, silently crossing the marsh. Nobody felt like talking, and it was well toward night when we reached the other side. I glanced up at the sky. Even though we couldn’t see her, the Moon Mother would be full tonight, which meant even more trouble for Delilah and me. And . . . Morgaine.
“Delilah, you need to stay near Morio. He’s going to have to keep you from wandering off tonight. We aren’t going to make it out of here without spending a full moon under the skies.”
She frowned. “I hate to say it but you might want to use this. I brought it, just in case we needed it.” Fishing through her pack, she frowned as she handed over a leather harness, tabby-cat size.
Morio grinned. “I think it would be a good idea if you changed now, before the moon rises and sends you into a frenzy. That way we can harness you into this and I’ll carry you on the rest of the walk.
She rolled her eyes but agreed. Handing her pack to Tanne, she exhaled slowly, shifting with an even, smooth transition. The moment she was in tabby form, I snatched her up before she could change her mind and—together with Morio—managed to get her harness on. She put up a lazy fight but seemed to be doing her best to cooperate. He tucked her into his arms and we headed off again.
Everybody was tired, but I was grateful to Áine for leading us through the marsh. It had saved us hours of indecision. I was really beginning to like the dragon and wished she could shift into human form so we could have a chat.
We passed the dead bog monster, and by the time midnight neared were back onto the grassland, and headed toward the path to the stream. I was done in. We’d been walking through snow and cold for hours without a break, and I still had to look forward to the Hunt tonight. I could feel the pull.
I turned to look at Morgaine, who was staring at the sky. With a long sigh, I turned back to Tanne. “I have no clue what’s going to happen to Morgaine when the Hunt comes riding past, but when we stop for the night, watch her, would you?”
All I wanted was some downtime. We had no food, and we were cold and tired. But one more hour and we’d reach the path again, where we’d crossed the bridge and turned off into the grassland. We might as well drag our sorry butts that far before setting up camp.
By the time we came to the rushing stream, we’d had all we could take. There was no shelter here from the cold, but we did our best, huddling together with the blankets tight around us. We had Arturo’s blanket, which we gave to Myrddin. He whispered something to Áine and she began gently circling us, slowly. Her bulk kept most of the wind from blasting right past us, and she began a thrumming that sounded almost like the purr of a cat. Whatever she was doing raised the temperature around us by a few degrees—enough to take the worst of the bite off.
“She’ll keep watch till morning.” Myrddin held my gaze. “Trust me enough to rest. If anything comes near, we’ll know in advance.”
Exhausted and cold, and still heartsore over a journey in which we’d lost two of our party and yet a third was traumatized beyond counting, I gave in and accepted the offer. Myrddin offered to take first watch, to guard Morgaine, making sure she was comfortable. Tanne and Bran laid down near them and quickly were snoring away. Even Delilah wasn’t up to her usual moon-play. She curled up next to Morio, who fixed her leash so she couldn’t get away while he slept.
I pulled my blanket around my shoulders and looked up at the cloud-covered sky. She was up there, my Lady, waiting for me. Too tired to resist, I leaned against Morio’s back, and closed my eyes.
* * *
I found myself walking out under the sky, the moon rounded and full. Bright overhead, she was singing to me. I gazed up at her, my heart swelling with love. She was my lady, my goddess, my all. She was my reason for living and from her I drew my power and strength.
As I looked around, the grassy field seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see, and there were no mountains here. No trees. No place to hide. Reaching up toward her, I tried to touch the shimmering light, but she was too far away, and I could only hear her whispering.
As I turned, I realized I was waiting for the Hunt, but I wasn’t in my usual place where I leaped into the passing cavalcade. Which meant there was something to be learned here, first. Some lesson the Moon Mother had in store for me. Lucid dreaming, much like wandering the astral, usually led me to some piece of knowledge that I needed to hear.
I waited, and then, like a freight train rumbling, the world fell into shards.
As I watched, a horde of goblins and ogres came racing across the field toward me, waving their weapons and singing battle songs. To my left, men in robes were marching—wands and staves in their hands. And at their helm a bearded man that I recognized as Telazhar. The sorcerers were marching.
To my right, a legion of soldiers wearing the colors of Svartalfheim rallied to meet them. At their helm, was my cousin Shamas. We’d been in love when we were younger—long before I met Trillian—but his pride and our families had interfered. Marrying cousins was commonplace in Otherworld, but marrying a half-breed? Not so acceptable. He couldn’t bring himself to break tradition.
His jaw was set, a grim look on his face. Fear began to work its way into my heart. They were headed on a direct course to intercept the goblins. But there wasn’t a thing I could do. Once again, I turned to see, behind me, another army appear. The colors of Y’Elestrial flew high, and as the four armies approached the center, I floated up, to watch from above.
So this must be what Menolly feels when she hovers up to the ceiling, I thought. And then, once again, my attention was riveted to the scene below. As the armies met, the soldiers began to fight and the blood was flying. Bodies fell, and in that moment, I found myself standing up on the astral, at the helm of the Moon Mother’s Hunt. She was there, with her silver bow and her gleaming eyes, and she handed me my yew staff.
I reluctantly accepted it. All of a sudden, I wasn’t dreaming—I was on the astral, in full physical form, and the moon was daz
zling and brilliant, commanding me with her presence. We were above a real battlefield, and though I couldn’t recognize the exact land, I knew we were in Otherworld.
“My Lady, what is this?”
The Moon Mother leaned down to stroke my cheek. “The Hunt rides tonight. The Hunt rides where it is called. The Hunt rides under the shining moon but this evening, we face a dark duty. And you walk under the dark shadow, my sweet one. There is death on the battlefield and we have soldiers’ souls to gather tonight.”
Chilled now, I realized what we were about to do. The Wild Hunts—there were many, from many cultures—gathered up the soldiers who fell in battle. The Hunt called to it the animals and the beasts of the world, and the wild, feral witches who served the gods of the chase.
With a shriek, the Moon Mother leaped forward and I found myself racing in her wake. We dove through the moonbeams, and ran on the astral winds, mighty gusts blowing in our wake, storms rising from our footsteps.
“Run, my loves, run and gather. Catch them up—for the moon heralds a bloody harvest tonight!” The Moon Mother spiraled down toward the battle and we followed.
Soldiers were thick in the slaughter, blood streaming as they used knife and sword, arrow and bow, hammer and mace, spear and dagger to kill the enemy. Screams right and left led us to the fallen. The enemies—the goblins and ogres—were not our affair. We paid no attention to their dead, but swept past them.
A soldier lay in my path, his heart no longer beating. But his soul was there, looking confused. A wild hunger filled my heart as I laughed, throaty and deep, and swept past him, catching him up in my wake.
“Run with me! Come to the Hunt—you are chosen!” And he fell in, racing behind me, leaving his physical life behind.
We passed by more men, and as we did, I caught their souls in my snare. “The Moon Mother commands you—join the Hunt, valiant one.” As I touched each one, a single tap, they, too, joined the pack.
The Hunt stretched for miles—it was ever growing and had been since the very first night the Moon Mother had raced across the sky, calling to the dead. On most full moons, she ran for the love of it—she led the Hunt in a triumphant charge. But tonight, she was deadly serious. We were here to gather. Here to increase the pack. To sweep up the dead. We were the carrion of the skies, we were the vultures waiting for the fallen. We were fur and fang, flesh and bone, and gleaming magic.
And then, I saw who was next in line. He was standing next to his body, and looking confused as hell. And I skidded to a halt, the bloodlust high but my heart screaming, “No!”
“No. No . . . please, no.”
But the Moon Mother urged me on. “This is what it means to be my priestess. This is what it means to serve the gods.”
I wanted to cry. My stomach knotted but the pressure to run, to touch, to call to the pack remained. I bit my lips as I stared at the soldier. He was a sorcerer, but he was on our side. And at that moment, he saw me and a smile formed on his lips.
“Camille . . . how did you get here? The fighting—you have to leave!”
“No . . . oh, no. Oh, Great Mother. I didn’t expect this. I didn’t want this to happen. Why did you come back here? Why didn’t you stay with us?” I wanted to smack him, to hurt him. But it was too late. He’d made his choice and I hadn’t been around to stop him. And damn it, Menolly hadn’t tried to talk him out of it. Furious at her, furious at Shamas, I stuttered out his name.
Shamas looked down and saw his body lying by his side. His face crumpled, slowly, and he hung his head. “I didn’t make it . . . did I?”
Tears choking my throat, I shook my head. “Why did you leave? Why did you go? You’re our cousin—we needed you.”
He let out a soft laugh. “No. You didn’t need me. Not really. Camille, you could never need me the way I needed you to. Not since our youth, when I was too stupid and too vain to stand up for us. And you don’t need me now. You love more than anyone I’ve ever known. You have more love in your heart than is good for a person.”
I was crying in earnest now. Shamas, our cousin, had returned to Otherworld, and now I knew the reason, even though Menolly hadn’t told me the truth. He’d still been in love with me, but it was too late. When we had a chance, he’d caved to family prejudice. He was full-blooded Fae, and I was half-blooded. And our father’s relatives hadn’t been able to accept it.
“Shamas . . .”
“It’s okay, Camille. Really, it is. I’ve made too many mistakes in my life. I caused too much pain, too much harm. I hurt you in so many ways. The truth is, I’m tired. I think I was just waiting around for something to happen. At least, here at the end, I did something worthwhile. My death means something here.”
The pull was too strong. I wanted to hug him, to kiss him, to take him home and put him in bed and tuck him in. But it was too late. It would forever be too late. I nodded as I reached out, shaking.
“I’ll tell Aunt Rythwar. I’ll tell her you died defending our lands.”
“Thanks. And Camille—remember me next Samhain? Don’t forget me. Please? Go and be happy. Defeat our enemies. Live free, in a way I never could.” He smiled, and the radiance of his love filled his face.
“Good night, sweet Shamas. When you reach the Land of the Silver Falls, tell my mother and father we miss them. On Samhain . . . forever . . . you’ll be in my heart.” Unable to say another word, I took hold of his wrist, and yanked him into the pack, and we were off again, running through the battlefields.
And there, I spent the night gathering the dead who fell in the face of our enemy. And all the while, Shamas ran by my side, never again saying another word to me. But he looked happy, and at peace.
Chapter 19
Waking up was hard, made harder because I had to tell the others what had happened. At least, I had to tell Delilah and Morio—they were the only ones who would really care.
As we rolled up our blankets, I laid out what had happened. “I didn’t see Morgaine there, but she might have been. But . . . Shamas was there. He’s dead.”
Delilah let out a little cry.
“There were four armies,” I continued. “One from Svartalfheim. Shamas was part of their forces. Another was from Y’Elestrial. Together they fought goblin hordes, and Telazhar’s sorcerers. I have no idea how many there were. Thousands. And so many dead. We swept up the soldiers who could see us. Cousin Shamas . . . he said good-bye. He told me . . .” I couldn’t go on. I wanted to sink to my knees, wanted to cry. We’d lost our Father. We’d lost friends—Queen Asteria for one. We’d lost so many people. And now our cousin. A man I had once loved with all my heart.
Morio leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “Remember who you are.”
His words were precisely what I needed to hear, especially with where we were and who our companions were. I wiped my eyes and looked up at Delilah. Her face was a mask of loss and vague anger, but she waited and I realized she was going to take her cue from me.
“We go on. We go home. We tell them what happened. There’s nothing we can do now, except remember that he tried to do something to make the world a better place.” Pushing my grief into a dark little corner until I had time and energy to face it, I wiped my nose again and pulled Morgaine aside to help her attend to her toilette before we headed out again, hungry and aching.
It was early dawn, and so far, we’d seen no other creatures. The storm must have been keeping them at bay because the isolation continued as we numbly slogged along the path and through the woodland. And then, before I realized it, we were at the portal.
I just about kissed Tanne when he pointed it out, I was so freaking glad to get the fuck out of there. The realm of the Elder Fae was wild and windswept and incredibly dangerous. By our accounts, we’d been gone since Saturday late afternoon, and if my counting was right, it was now Tuesday, around noon.
As we approached the portal, I turned to Myrddin. “Are you ready to see just what’s happened to the world in the millennia you’ve been asleep?”
He gave a short chuckle and nodded. “If I’m not, I can always come back here, I suppose. All right, Lady Camille. Lead on, and show me the wonders of your world.”
* * *
The yard never looked so much like paradise. The guards sprang into position, but seeing me, they relaxed but waited at attention until we’d all come through. All but Mordred and Arturo, that is. If they noticed the absence, they kept it to themselves, saluting Bran as he nodded to them. As leader of the Talamh Lonrach Oll Warriors, the guards—all from the sovereign nation—owed him their allegiance.
Delilah tucked her arm around my shoulder and gave me a squeeze. “We’re home.”
I nodded, wishing I felt more excited. I was happy, but we’d had so many shocks and the trip had been harder than we thought it would. All I wanted was a warm bath and to sleep for days.
The kitchen door opened and Smoky and Shade burst out, down the steps. Shade swung Delilah into his arms, while Smoky grabbed me around the waist and kissed me deeply. Both of them stopped suddenly as Áine appeared, walking behind the Merlin. They stared at her, and she suddenly swirled up and around in what I could swear was a happy dance.
“Who is this?” Smoky asked softly.
“Her name is Áine and she’s under a curse. She can’t shift into human shape. She’s been stuck guarding Myrddin since the Fae Lords imprisoned him. Not so much of a fun time. We think she’s a baby.”
“Baby is relative. She is young, but not like a child per se. She’s younger than I am by far, but an adult as far as her human form goes. I’ve never met a blue-green mix.” He looked intrigued, as did Shade.
“Well, she’s Myrddin’s lover. Or, was, before they were sentenced to an eternity in that gods-forsaken cavern.” I let out a long sigh and turned to see how Morgaine was doing. She was still silent, staring at the sky as the rain poured down on her face. “We have another problem. Arturo woke up, remembered he was King Arthur, Mordred found out that Morgaine is actually his mother and that Arturo is a prick.”
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