Nora Roberts's Circle Trilogy

by Nora Roberts

  “It’s lovely,” Glenna said. “A little heartbreaking.” Because she couldn’t resist, she went for paper and charcoal to sketch him as he played.

  From outside, pipes and harps began to play, blending in with Cian’s music.

  Each note, Moira thought, like a tear.

  “You’ve a hand with that,” Larkin told Cian when the notes faded away. “And a heart for music, that’s the truth. But would you be after playing something a bit livelier? You know, with a little jump to it?”

  Larkin lifted his pipe and blew out quick, cheerful notes, so those echoes of melancholy were swept away in joy. More music poured in from outside, drums and fifes, as Cian matched melody and rhythm. With a quick hoot of approval, Larkin stomped his feet, his knees like loose hinges while Moira clapped the time.

  “Come on then.” Tossing his pipe to Blair, Larkin grabbed Moira’s hands. “Let’s show this lot how Geallians dance.”

  Laughing, Moira swung into step with him in what Cian saw was cousin to an Irish step-dance. Quick feet, still shoulders, all energy. He bent over the vielle, smiling a little at the persistence of the human heart as shadows and firelight played over his face.

  “We won’t let them get the better of us.” Hoyt yanked Glenna to her feet.

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Sure you can. It’s in the blood.”

  The floorboards rang with booted feet, and it flowed out into the night, the dance, the tune, the laughter. It was, Cian thought, so human of them, to take the joy, to not only use it, but to squeeze every drop of it.

  There, his brother, the sorcerer who prized his dignity as much as his power, whirling around with his sexy red-headed witch who giggled like a girl as she tried to do the steps.

  The kick-your-face-and-your-ass demon hunter mixing a little twenty-first-century hip-hop into the folk dance to make her shape-shifting cowboy grin.

  And the queen of Geall, loyal, devoted and carrying the weight of her world, flushed and glowing with the simple pleasure of music.

  They might die tomorrow, every one, but by the gods, they danced tonight. Lilith, for all her eons, all her power and ambition would never understand them. And the magic of them, the light of them, might just carry the day.

  For the first time, he believed—whether he survived or not—humankind would triumph. It couldn’t be snuffed out, not even by itself. Though he’d seen, too often, it try.

  There were too many others like these five, who would fight and sweat and bleed. And dance.

  He continued to play when Hoyt paused long enough to drink some ale. “Send it to her,” Cian murmured.

  “Look at my Glenna, dancing as if she’d been born to it.” Hoyt blinked, frowned. “What’s that you said?”

  Cian glanced up, no longer smiling though the music he played was as cheerful as a red balloon. “Send Lilith the music, send it out, just as Moira said. You can do that. Let’s rub her fucking face in it.”

  “Then we will.” Hoyt laid a hand on Cian’s shoulder. “Damn right we will.”

  Power rippled, warming Cian’s shoulder as he played, and played.

  In the dark, Lilith stood watching her troops fight yet another training battle. As far as she could see—and her eyes were keen—vampires, half-vampires, human servants were spread in an army she’d spent hundreds of years building.

  Tomorrow, she thought, they would swarm over the humans like a plague until the valley was a lake of blood.

  And in it, she would drown that whore who called herself queen for what had been done to Davey.

  When Lora joined her, they slid arms around each other’s waists. “The scouts are back,” Lora told her. “We outnumber the enemy by three to one. Midir is on his way, as you commanded.”

  “It’s a good view from here. Davey would have enjoyed standing here, seeing this.”

  “By this time tomorrow, or soon after, he’ll be avenged.”

  “Oh, yes. But it won’t end there.” She felt Midir as he climbed to the rooftop where she and Lora stood. “It begins soon,” she said without turning to him. “If you fail me, I’ll slit your throat myself.”

  “I will not fail.”

  “Tomorrow, when it begins, you’ll be in place. I want you standing on the high ridge to the west, where all can see.”

  “Majesty—”

  She turned now, her eyes cold and blue. “Did you think I’d let you stay here, locked and closeted within this shield? You’ll do and be where I say, Midir. And you’ll stand on that ridge so our troops, and theirs, can see your power. An incentive for them, and for you,” she added. “Make your magic strong, or you’ll pay the price of it during the battle, or after.”

  “I’ve served you for centuries, and still there is no trust.”

  “No trust between us, Midir. Only ambition. I prefer that you live, of course.” She smiled now, thinly. “I have uses for you even after my victory. There are children inside Castle Geall, protected. I want them, all of them, when I’ve taken the night. From among them I’ll choose the next prince. The others will make a fine feast. You’ll stand on the ridge,” she said as she turned back again. “And you’ll cast your dark shadow. There’s no cause for concern. After all, you’ve seen the outcome of this in your smoke. And so you’ve told me countless times.”

  “I would be more use to you here, with my—”

  “Silence!” She snapped it out, tossed up a hand. “What’s that sound? Do you hear it?”

  “It sounds like…” Lora frowned out into the dark. “Music?”

  “Their sorcerer sends it.” Midir lifted face and hands into the air. “I feel him reaching out, pale and petty power in the night.”

  “Make it stop! I won’t be mocked on the eve of this. I won’t have it. Music.” She spat it out. “Human trash.”

  Midir lowered his arms, folded his hands. “I can do what you will, my queen, but they make a small and foolish attempt to anger you. See your own troops, training, wielding weapons, preparing for battle. And what does your enemy do with these final hours?” He dismissed them with a flick of his fingers that sizzled out fire. “They play like careless children. Wasting the short time they have left before the slaughter on music and dance. But if you will it—”

  “Wait.” She held up a hand again. “Let them have their music. Let them dance their way to death. Go back to your cauldron and smoke. And be prepared to take your place tomorrow, and hold it. Or I’ll toast my victory with your blood.”

  “As you wish, Majesty.”

  “I wonder if he spoke the truth,” Lora said when they were alone again. “Of if he hesitated to strike his power against theirs.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Lilith couldn’t let it matter, not this close to the fulfillment of all she coveted. “When everything is as I want it, when I crush these humans, drink their children, he’ll have outlived his uses.”

  “Certainement. And his power could be turned against you once he has what he wants. What do you propose to do about him?”

  “I’m going to make a meal of him.”

  “Share?”

  “Only with you.”

  She continued to stand, watching the training. But the music, the damned music soured her mood.

  It was late when Cian lay beside Moira. In these last hours, their circle was in three parts. He’d seen the fire flare and the candle flames flash, and knew Hoyt and Glenna were wrapped in each other.

  As he’d been with Moira. As he imagined Larkin was with Blair.

  “It was always meant to be this way,” Moira said quietly. “The six of us making the circle, with each of us forming a stronger link with another. To gather together, to learn of and from one another. To know love. And this house is bright with love tonight. It’s another kind of magic, and as powerful as any other. We have that, whatever comes.”

  She lifted her head to look down at him. “What I asked you to do was a betrayal.”

  “There’s no need for that.”

 
“No, I want to tell you what I know, as much as I know anything. It was a betrayal of you, of myself, of the others and all we’ve done. You were stronger, and now so am I. I love you with everything I am. That’s a gift for both of us. Nothing can take it or change it.”

  She lifted the locket he wore. It held more than a lock of her hair, she thought. It held her love. “Don’t leave this behind when you go. I want to know you have it, always.”

  “It goes where I go. My word on that. I love you with everything I am, and all I can’t be.”

  She laid the locket back over his heart, then a hand over the stillness. Tears filled her, but she fought to hold them. “No regrets?”

  “None.”

  “For either of us. Love me again,” she murmured. “Love me again, one last time before dawn.”

  It was tender and slow, a savoring of every touch, every taste. Long, soft kisses were a kind of drug against any pain, silky caresses a balm over wounds that must be endured. She told herself her heart beat hard and strong enough for both of them now, this last time.

  Her eyes stayed open and on his, drinking in his face so that at the peak of pleasure she saw him slide away with her.

  “Tell me again,” she murmured. “Once more.”

  “I love you. Eternally.”

  Then they lay together in the quiet. All the words had been said.

  In the last hour before dawn they rose, the six, to prepare for the final march to battle.

  They went on horse, on dragon, on foot, in wagons and carts. Above, clouds shifted over the sky, but didn’t block out the sun. It beamed through them in shimmering fingers and sudden flashes to light the way to Silence.

  The first arrived to lay traps in the shadows and in the caves while guards flew or rode over and around the valley with their eyes trained for any attack.

  And there found traps laid for them. Under a man’s feet, a pool of blood would spread, sucking him down. Ooze, black as pitch, bubbled up to burn through boots and into flesh.

  “Midir’s work,” Hoyt spat as others ran to save who they could.

  “Block it,” Cian ordered. “We’ll have a panic on our hands before we start.”

  “Half-vamps.” Blair shouted the warning from dragon-back. “About fifty. First line, let’s go.” She dived down to lead the charge.

  Arrows flew, and swords slashed. In the first hour, the Geallian forces were down fifteen men. But they held ground.

  “They just wanted us to have a taste of it.” With her face splattered with blood, Blair dismounted. “We gave them a bigger one.”

  “The dead and wounded have to be tended to.” Steeling herself, Moira looked at the fallen, then away. “Hoyt’s pushing back Midir’s spell. How much is it costing him?”

  “He’ll have whatever he needs to have. I’m going up again, do a couple of circles. See if she’s got any more surprises for us.” Blair vaulted back on her dragon. “Hold the line.”

  “We weren’t as prepared as we might have been for the traps, for a daylight attack.” Sheathing his stained sword, Larkin stepped to Moira. “But we did well. We’ll do better yet.”

  He laid a hand on her arm, drawing her away so only she would hear. “Glenna says some are already here, under the ground. Hoyt can’t work with her now, but she thinks between herself and Cian they can find at least some, and deal with it.”

  “Good. Even a handful will be a victory. I need to steady the archers.”

  The sun moved to midday, then beyond it. Twice she saw the ground open up where Glenna held a willow rod. Then the flash of fire as the thing burrowed in the earth caught the sun and flamed in it.

  How many more, she wondered. A hundred? Five hundred?

  “He’s broken off.” Hoyt swiped a hand over his sweaty face when he joined her. “Midir’s traps are closed.”

  “You beat him back.”

  “I can’t say. He may have gone to other work. But for now, he’s blocked. This ground, it shakes the soul of a man. It pours up this evil it holds, all but chokes the breath. I’ll help Cian and Glenna.”

  “No, you need to rest a few moments, save your energies. I’ll help them.”

  Knowing he needed to gather himself, Hoyt nodded. But his eyes were grim as he scanned the valley, passed over where Glenna and Cian worked. “They won’t be able to find them all. Not in this ground.”

  “No. But every one is one less.”

  Still when she reached Glenna, Moira could see the work was taking its toll. Glenna was pale, her skin clammy as Hoyt’s had been. “It’s time to rest,” Moira told her. “Restore yourself. I’ll work it awhile.”

  “It’s beyond your power. It’s on the edge of mine.” Grateful, Glenna took the water bag Moira offered. “We’ve only unearthed a dozen. A couple more hours—”

  “She needs to stop. You need to stop.” Cian took Glenna’s arm. “You’re nearly tapped out, you know it. If you don’t have anything left come sundown, what good will you be?”

  “I know there are more. A lot more.”

  “Then we’ll be ready when this ground spits them out. Go. Hoyt needs you. He’s worn himself thin.”

  “Good strategy,” Cian told Moira when Glenna walked away. “Using Hoyt.”

  “It is, but it’s also true enough. We’re draining them both. And you,” she added. “I can hear in your voice how tired you are. So I’ll say what you said to her. What good are you if you’re worn out by sundown?”

  “The bloody cloak smothers me. Then again, the alternative’s not pleasant. I need to feed,” he admitted.

  “Then go, up to the high ground and see to it. We’ve done nearly all we can, all we set out to do by this time.”

  She saw Blair and Larkin with Hoyt and Glenna now. The six of them, together as the sun sank lower might push their strengths up again. They went across the broken ground, climbed over an island of pocked rock, and began up the hard slope.

  Everything in her wanted to shudder when they reached the ridge. Even without Midir’s spell, the ground seemed to pull at her feet.

  Cian took out a water bag she knew held blood.

  “Waiting on you,” Blair began. “A lot of your troops have the jitters.”

  “If you’re meaning they won’t stand and fight—”

  “Don’t get all Geallian pride on me.” Blair held up a hand for peace. “What they need is to hear from you, to get revved. They need their St. Crispin’s Day speech.”

  “What’s this?”

  Blair arched her brows at Cian. “Guess you missed Henry V when you mowed through Cian’s library.”

  “There were a lot of books, after all.”

  “It’s about stirring them up,” Glenna explained. “About getting them ready to fight, even die. Reminding them why they’re here, inspiring them.”

  “I’m to do all of that?”

  “No one else would have the same impact.” Cian closed the water bag. “You’re the queen, and while the rest of us might be generals, in a manner of speaking, you’re the one they look to.”

  “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

  “You’ll think of something. While you are, Larkin and I will get your troops together. Add a little Braveheart to Henry,” he said to Blair. “Get her on horseback.”

  “Excellent.” Blair headed off to get Cian’s horse.

  “What did this Henry say?” Moira wondered.

  “What they needed to hear.” Glenna gave Moira’s hand a squeeze. “So will you.”

  Chapter 20

  “I don’t have a thing in my head.”

  “It’s not going to come from there. Or not only from there.” Glenna handed Moira her circlet. “Head and heart, remember? Listen to both and whatever you say, it’ll be the right thing.”

  “Then I wish you’d say it instead. Foolish to be afraid of speaking to them,” Moira said with a weak smile. “And not as afraid to die with them.”

  “Put this on.” Blair held out Moira’s cloak. “Good visual, the cloak bi
llowing in the wind. And speak up, kiddo. You have to project to the ones in the peanut gallery.”

  “I’ll ask you what that means later.” Moira took one huffing breath, then mounted the stallion. “Here we go then.”

  She walked the horse forward, then her heart gave a hard thud. There were her people, more than a thousand strong, standing with the valley at their backs. Even as the sun dipped lower in the sky, it glinted off sword and shield and lance. It washed over their faces, those who had come here, ready to give their lives.

  And her head understood the words in her heart.

  “People of Geall!”

  They cheered as she trotted her horse in front of their lines. Even those already wounded called out her name.

  “People of Geall, I am Moira, warrior queen. I am your sister; I am your servant. We have come to this time and this place by order of the gods, and so, to serve the gods. I know not all of your faces, all of your names, but you are mine, every man and woman here.”

  The wind caught at her cloak as she looked into those faces. “Tonight, when the sun sets, I ask you to fight, to stand this bitter ground that has already tasted our blood this day. I ask this of you, but you don’t fight for me. You don’t fight for the queen of Geall.”

  “We fight for Moira, the queen!” someone shouted. And again, her name rose up above the wind in cheers and chants.

  “No, you don’t fight for me! You don’t fight for the gods. You don’t fight for Geall, not this night. You don’t fight for yourselves, or even your children. Not for your husbands, your wives. Your mothers and fathers.”

  They quieted as she continued to ride the lines, looking into those faces, meeting those eyes, “It’s not for them you come here to this bitter valley, knowing your blood may spill on its ground. It’s for all humankind you come here. For all humankind you stand here. You are the chosen. You are the blessed. All the worlds and every heart that beats in them is your heart now, your world now. We, the chosen, are one world, one heart, one purpose.”

  Her cloak snapped in the wind as the stallion pranced, and the dying sun glinted on the gold of her crown, the steel of her sword. “We will not fail this night. We cannot fail this night. For when one of us falls, there will be another to lift the sword, the lance, to fight with stake and fist the pestilence that threatens humanity and all it is. And if that next of us should fall, there will come another and another, and still more for we are the world here, and the enemy has never known the like of us.”