Noble's Honor (Changeling Blood Book 3)

by Glynn Stewart

  “There’s a good chance they either wrecked their computers or they’re secured enough to keep us out, but paper records aren’t so easily wiped,” I continued. “We need to sweep this entire facility.

  “At the same time, Damh, I want you and the Hunters to go through the vault. That thing is stuffed full of weapons, gold, gems…a thousand different things of value, and I want it all.”

  I grinned at him.

  “We’re probably going to need to install our own vault at the house in Calgary to hold it all, but I want it. And more importantly, I want the Masked Lords to not have it.”

  “We can manage that,” Damh Coleman confirmed. “We’ll fill up a couple of our Between storage spaces; that should more than suffice.”

  “What about the prisoners?” Raja asked. “I presume that, given the general weak stomachs of Westerners, you’re not planning on shooting them in the back and stacking them in the vault for their friends to find later?”

  I physically winced at his not-quite-suggestion. I was coming to realize I could trust Raja, but I had to remember that he didn’t think like me. I’d taken a thousand-year-old warlord into my service. He was far more willing to embrace massacre than the rest of us.

  “We need what they know,” I replied. “We’ll interrogate them. In fact…” I grinned again, and this time, I felt truly evil. “I suspect they know your reputation well enough that you’ll make a fantastic bad cop. Orman, think you can play good cop?”

  The Vassal who’d done our pre-attack preparation grunted. She was recovering rapidly, but Rose had done a number on her ribs and she had a concussion that would have been life-threatening if she was human.

  “I don’t know if I can do ‘good,’” she told us. “I can do grumpy-but-less-homicidal-than-Asi, though.”

  “That will probably be more than sufficient,” Raja replied with a chuckle. “We’ll interrogate the prisoners. What happens to them after?”

  “We don’t have enough people or resources to take them anywhere separately,” I admitted. “So, they’re coming to Calgary with us initially. After that, I’ll call Ankaris, and the main Wild Hunt will take them off my hands.”

  They weren’t likely to enjoy that. The Mercy of the Hunt wasn’t known for, well, being merciful.

  “How badly did we get hurt?” I finally asked. I’d led my people into a pretty nasty fight. Raja’s people were basically irreplaceable, and I wasn’t particularly certain what the wait time for replacement Wild Hunt personnel was, either.

  “We lost two of the Companions,” Damh told me. “It could have been a lot worse. Most of our people are wounded, but they’ll be healed up in a day or two. Faster if we can meet up with a Healer or a doctor somewhere.”

  “And your people got beat up covering mine,” Mary said. “They didn’t have much in terms of silver, so we’ve got a few light wounds, nothing much. Everything else is already healed.”

  “Three of my asura will fight no more,” Raja said quietly. “Many of the others will be longer healing than the shifters or the fae. We are difficult to injure, but we do not heal as you do.”

  “We should be able to borrow a Healer from the Wild Hunt, and there are doctors in Calgary we can call on,” I told him. “We’ll see your people treated. All of our dead will be brought back to Calgary and from there sent to…wherever they should be buried.”

  That was a new one to me. I’d been involved in operations where people had died before, but those had always been under someone else’s authority. When people had died in Lord Oberis’s service, he’d been the one responsible in the end.

  There was no getting away from this one, though. The five dead supernaturals had died under my command.

  That was going to take some absorbing.

  31

  Our cellphones weren’t truly running on the mundane wireless networks. I didn’t pretend to understand the half-technological, half-mystical background to what was going on. I just knew that my cellphone would work anywhere in the world, call any number, mundane or supernatural.

  Despite all of that, we didn’t get signal Between. As we stepped out of that strange nothingness into the woods outside my house, our prisoners corralled amidst us, every one of the Hunters’ cellphones went off in sync.

  Not the asuras’ phones. Not the shifters’ phones. Not even Orman’s phone.

  But my phone and the phone of every single member of the Wild Hunt was buzzing frantically. I pulled mine out and looked at the screen.

  It was an emergency recall notice, calling every troop of the Wild Hunt back to Tír fo Thuinn. That partially underwater ancient fortress served as the home base of the Hunt, far from prying mortal eyes.

  “Sir?” Coleman asked desperately, looking around at his exhausted troops and the prisoners. “We have to go.”

  “I know,” I agreed instantly. “So do I. Raja!”

  The asura was by my side instantly. Wounded or not, he remained an imposingly powerful presence.

  “See to the prisoners and the interrogations,” I ordered. “I’ll make a call and get you backup, but the Hunt is being recalled.”

  “The Hunt?” he asked. “As in the entire Wild Hunt?”

  “Looks like,” I agreed. “Tír fo Thuinn is under attack. We may have moved against the Masked Lords, but they were moving against us while we were distracted.”

  Raja reeled off a string of curses I didn’t understand, probably in at least two languages.

  “We should go with you,” he said.

  “I need you to watch the prisoners and the house,” I replied. “The Hunt must ride to the Horned King’s call, but I cannot abandon my other responsibilities. I need you to take care of them.”

  He was wounded, besides. Raja was unquestionably my most powerful ally and subordinate, but he’d taken a blade to the guts. He would be fine…in a day or two. Right now, he was injured.

  “Please, Raja,” I said quietly. “If nothing else, I need you to guard Mary.”

  That, it seemed, was enough of a straw. He nodded jerkily and walked away, barking orders to his asura.

  “I’m not staying here,” Mary told me once he was out of reach. “Wherever you go, I go, Jason.”

  I wrapped her in my arms.

  “This isn’t about keeping you safe,” I told her. “This part isn’t your fight. I’ve never been to one of the old Irish fortresses and I don’t know what I’m walking into. I trust Ankaris and Coleman…and that’s it.

  “Remember that Andrell came from Ireland and was sent by the High Court. This should be safe ground, but the last time we fought the Masked Lords, half the High Court died—in Ireland.”

  She was silent.

  “Plus, if you don’t stay here, Raja will insist on coming and he won’t survive another battle, my love,” I said softly. “He’ll drive himself to death trying to avenge his people, but we still need him. This won’t be the end of it.”

  “All right.” Mary shook her head, then kissed me. “Then you better get moving, mister, before I change my mind.”

  “One phone call, then we’re gone,” I promised.

  I called Oberis. It was probably telling as to how our relationship had changed over the last year that I had his direct cellphone number—and he picked it up instantly.

  There had been a time I had to go through his aide. Of course, said aide had hated my guts and been betraying Oberis, so that hadn’t ended well for anyone.

  “Kilkenny,” he greeted me. “You’re alive, so I’m guessing your expedition went well.”

  “As well as it could have,” I told him. “I have the spear.”

  That hung on the line in silence for several seconds.

  “That’s good,” he replied. “Terrifying, frankly, but good. Is everything under control?”

  I had to swallow a laugh. Everything was most definitely not under control.

  “I have wounded, dead, prisoners and a storage room full of stuff we pulled from a Masked Lords vault,” I said. “And Ank
aris has just called the entire Wild Hunt to Tír fo Thuinn.

  “I need your help.”

  That was a dangerous admission among the fae. We weren’t nearly as bad about twisty contracts as we’d once been…but traditions died hard, and debts and boons were a tricky ground. I was offering Oberis a blank check for a boon and we both knew it—and I now held one of the most powerful magical artifacts in the world.

  Of course, Oberis owed me in turn—and knew there was only so much he could ask so long as I swore fealty to the Queen of the Fae.

  And I trusted him.

  “What do you need?” he asked instantly. “I’m guessing you’re not taking a plane to Ireland.”

  “Not a chance in hell,” I agreed. “I have about ten minutes before every Hunter in Calgary is jumping Between to our home base, but I can’t leave my prisoners unguarded, and my asura are in rough shape. I need hands, my lord. Anyone you can spare.” I paused. “That you trust.”

  “That’s the risky one right now, isn’t it?” Oberis said quietly. “Can your people hold down the fort at your house for a bit? Talus isn’t in town, but I can shake some trees and round up some goblins and Gentry under Robert if I have an hour or two.”

  “I think we can do that. I’m leaving Mary in charge, so she’ll probably shake up some shifters as well. I need to be gone, my lord, so…”

  “Your house will be here when you get back,” Oberis promised. “I swear it thrice, upon my honor, upon my blood, upon my power. Neither your people nor your valuables will come to harm.”

  “Thank you. I owe you,” I told him, acknowledging the debt.

  “No, you don’t,” he replied, refusing the debt in turn. “I don’t think we can even consider ourselves even, Jason. You killed an Unseelie Lord for me.” I could hear him shake his head.

  “We are far from even, Jason Kilkenny. Ride hard, Hunter. I do not know what awaits you in Tír fo Thuinn…but I fear the worst.”

  “So do I.”

  32

  Tír fo Thuinn was technically an island. It was also about thirty meters below sea level, originally built well before what humanity regarded as “recorded history.” Part of the area historians called Doggerland, it had been one of the first hill forts built in the area.

  When the waters had drowned Doggerland, the fae who lived in Tír fo Thuinn had protected it, first with magic and then with massive earth embankments.

  And then, later, as the waters rose and humans started traveling the waters between England and the mainland in numbers, it had been protected with magic again. Spells and constructs woven around the sunken fortress discouraged mortals from coming anywhere near it.

  Though no one would ever have consciously realized it, Tír fo Thuinn was a small blank spot in the maps and shipping lanes that no one ever sailed through or even flew over. It was the oldest of the old forts, the most ancient site of the fae and the home of the Wild Hunt since before there had even been a High Court.

  It absolutely should not have had a trio of green amphibious assault boats jammed into the tops of the embarkments, their machine guns providing covering fire for an organized retreat.

  That, however, was the scene we emerged from Between to find. Tír fo Thuinn’s outer fortifications were a wreck, shattered by explosives of some kind, and bodies were scattered across the field.

  The Wild Hunt’s reputation and authority were far out of scale with our actual numbers. If even a quarter of the dead I could see from my position on the wreckage of the fort’s walls were ours, the Hunt had been shattered.

  “Coleman, Riley,” I barked. “Find cover and set up fields of fire with the Companions. Keep those bastards moving! I need the rest of the Hunters with me.”

  It was bad. The core fortress was on fire. It was mostly stone and earth, so that wouldn’t last long…but it was still a bad sign.

  My subordinates scattered into the wreckage of the first layer of fortifications, a mixed earth-and-brick berm. There wasn’t much left of the broad low wall, but there was enough for us to take cover and open fire at the attackers.

  What was most terrifying in some ways was that only a handful of the attackers were fae. Even from there, a good hundred feet from the closest enemy, I could tell that most of them were mortal.

  They were mostly black men, almost certainly mercenaries recruited from the aftermath of the various brush wars in Africa. As peace infected a continent, a certain type of soldier found themselves in desperate need of employment—and the Masked Lords had found themselves in need of gun hands.

  We added our fire to that of the remaining defenders, helping scatter the remaining attackers back to their boats—but the sounds of more gunfire farther into the fortress attracted my attention, and I looked at the six Hunters I’d just sliced off the rest of my team.

  “With me, people,” I told them quietly. “To the sound of the guns.”

  They didn’t say anything aloud, but they followed me into the Between a moment later as I raced deeper into the ancient fortress of the Wild Hunt.

  We came out of the void into fire—of both kinds. The building was on fire around us and gunfire filled the halls.

  A loose defensive line blocked access deeper into the fortress, a dozen Hunters and Companions holding the position as they traded fire with their attackers. Those attackers were all fae this deep, Gentry and Greater Fae who lashed the defenders with gunfire and magic alike.

  I stepped out of Between, dodged a burst of gunfire, and took half a second to assess the situation. We were just inside the entrance to the great hall, and the defensive position was in front of the doors leading inward from the hall.

  The attackers were in the middle of the hall, using pillars and ancient tables as cover. The sheer mass and age of the furniture in the room meant that it had absorbed years of energy from the supernaturals around it.

  It was still merely wood…but it was tough old wood and it withstood bullets handily. On the other hand, I was now behind those attacking fae.

  Even if I hadn’t known how to take advantage of that, Esras did. The spear thrust forward with barely any conscious thought on my part, and fire lashed out again. Two hags went down before they even knew they were under attack as the lance of heat cut through them, and then the Hunters I’d brought with me opened fire.

  Everyone in this mess was using cold iron rounds. Anything but the most cursory of wounds would be fatal, so I wove power in front of my people to keep them safe. We advanced into the attackers’ rear.

  I expected them to surrender, to be honest. That mistake cost me a bullet to the shoulder as one of the Gentry returned fire. My armor held and the Gentry died, fire flashing out from my hands in near-instinctive response.

  Then it was over. A dozen Greater Fae and Gentry, beings with life expectancies measured in centuries, were dead on the ground—and they weren’t the only ones in the hall.

  I crossed to the barricade.

  “What the hell is going on here?” I asked. “Is the fortress secure?”

  The leader of the hastily assembled defenders doffed her helmet and gave me a rough salute.

  “No one’s made it past since we got here,” she told me. “But we didn’t get here in time. I know at least some made it deeper in, and I have no contact with anyone. Our radios and phones are being jammed, and everyone’s been under too much pressure to try anything else.”

  She sighed.

  “Ironically, stepping Between inside the fortress is a mess at the best of times. Whoever these people are, they’ve also done a number on the beacons we use to help with that. Ankaris is deeper in; I haven’t heard from him…and radios or no radios, I should have.”

  I didn’t know the woman, but she was clearly a senior Hunter. That meant the odds were roughly fifty-fifty on whether she was a Vassal of Ankaris or not…and if she was, then she would be able to talk to him regardless.

  “His Vassal?” I asked.

  “Amandine Delacroix,” she introduced herself in
an exhausted tone. “Vassal of the Horned King, Third Guardian of Tír fo Thuinn. I don’t even know where the other Guardians are!”

  “Can you locate Ankaris, Guardian?” I asked. “The forces outside are falling back to their boats; my own Companions are assisting in the defense. We need to find your liege.”

  She closed her eyes, focusing…and then snapped them open again in horror.

  “He’s in the main annex,” she told me. “He’s wounded. Badly.”

  “Show me the way.”

  As we rushed through the wreckage of one of my people’s oldest forts, it became clear to me that we had been too late. If we’d come directly there from Malta, we would have been in time, but we hadn’t received the alert then.

  I didn’t know how long the alert had languished in the wireless ether before we’d returned to the regular world and received it, but it had been too long. Even the ten minutes it had taken us to make arrangements for our prisoners and resupply wouldn’t have made a difference.

  The Masked Lords had hit Tír fo Thuinn hard with a mixed force of mortals and supernaturals, all fully equipped with cold iron arms and knowledge of their enemy. The violation of the Covenants of Silence inherent in that was going to have wide and long-lasting consequences, but they clearly didn’t care.

  Bodies were scattered through the halls. Unsurprisingly, most of them were the Masks’ mortal mercenaries, but there were plenty of fae—both in Hunter gear and not.

  If half of the Wild Hunt had survived the day, I’d be surprised. The main security and paramilitary force of the fae had been gutted.

  From what I could tell, the spearhead of the Masked Lords’ attack had never even been slowed down. They’d lost mercenaries and companions along the way, but they’d kept going toward their objective: the main annex.