by Nora Roberts
Her eyes were like hell-smoke in a face illuminated with passion. Her voice soared over the air so the words rang out, strong and clear.
“Here, on this ground, we will drive them down even past hell.” She continued to shout over the cheers that rippled and rose from the men and women like a wave. “We will not yield this night, we will not fail this night, but will stand and triumph this night. You are the heart they can never have. You are the breath and the light they will never know again. This night, they will sing of this Samhain, sing of The Battle of Silence, in every generation that comes after. They will sit by their fires and speak of the glory of what we do here. This night. The sun sets.”
She drew her sword, pointed west where the sun had begun to bleed red. “Come the dark, we’ll raise sword and heart and mind against them. And as the gods witness this, I swear it, we will raise the sun.”
She sent fire rippling down the blade of her sword, and shooting into the sky.
“Not too shabby,” Blair managed as the troops erupted with shouts and cheers. “Your girl’s got a way with words.”
“She’s…brilliant.” Cian kept his eyes on her. “How can they stand against that much light?”
“She spoke the truth,” Hoyt stated. “They’ve never seen the likes of us.”
The squadron leaders split the troops so they began to move into position. Moira rode back, dismounted.
“It’s time,” she said and held out her hands.
The six formed a circle to forge that final bond. Then released each other.
“See you on the flip side.” Blair flashed a gleaming smile. “Go get ’em, cowboy.” She leaped on her dragon, then shot skyward.
Larkin swung onto his own. “Last one to the pub when this is done buys the round.” He flew up, and away from Blair.
“Blessed be. And let’s kick ass.” With Hoyt, Glenna started toward their posts, but she’d seen the look that had passed between the brothers. “What’s going on with Cian? Don’t lie this close to what might be bloody death.”
“He asked for my word. If we’re able to bring the spell into play, he asked for my word we not wait for him.”
“But we can’t—”
“It was the last he asked of me. Pray we won’t have to make the choice.”
Behind them, Moira stood with Cian. “Fight well,” she said to him, “and live another thousand years.”
“My fondest hope.” He covered the lie by taking her hands a last time, pressing them to his lips. “Fight well, mo croi, and live.”
Before she could speak again, he’d leaped onto his horse and galloped away.
From the air, Blair called out commands, directing her mount with her legs and scanning the ground for what would come with the dark. The sun fell, plunging the valley into night, and in that night, the ground erupted. They poured out of the ground, from earth, from rock, from crevice, in numbers too great to count.
“Show time,” she whispered to herself, swinging south as arrows from Moira and her archers rained down. “Hold them, hold them.” A quick glance to where Niall’s foot soldiers’ voices rose like chants told her Niall was waiting for the signal.
A little longer, a little more, she thought as vampires swarmed up the valley, as arrows pierced some, missed others.
She flashed the firesword and dove. As men charged, she yanked the rope on her harness, dropping the first bomb.
Fire and flaming shrapnel flew, and there were screams as vampires were engulfed. And still they spewed from the ground pushing their lines toward the Geallians.
Freed of his cloak, Cian sat his horse, his sword raised to hold the men at his back. Bombs exploded fire, scorching the enemy and the ground. But they came, slinking and slithering, clawing and leaping. On a cry of battle, Cian slashed his sword and led his troops into the firestorm.
With flashing hooves and hacking steel, he cleaved a hole in the advancing army’s line. It closed again, surrounding him and his forces.
Screams came in a torrent.
On her sloping plateau, Moira gripped her battle-ax. Her heart knocked in her throat as she saw the vampires break through the line to the east. She led the charge even as Hoyt led his so that they took their warriors in a stream of steel and stake to flank the enemy’s lines.
Over the screams, the crashes, the fire, came the trumpeting call of dragons. The next wave of Lilith’s army was advancing.
“Arrows!” Moira shouted as her quiver emptied, and another, filled, was tossed at her feet.
She notched and loosed, notched and loosed until the air was so full of smoke the bow was useless.
She raised the fiery sword and rushed with her line into the thick of it.
Of all she’d feared, all she’d known, all she’d seen in the visions the gods had given her, what came through the smoke and stink was worse. Men and women already slaughtered, ash of vanquished enemy coating the bitter ground like fetid snow. Blood spurted like a fall of water, painting the yellowed grass red.
Shrieks, human and vampire, echoed in the dark under the pale, three-quarter moon.
She blocked a sword strike, and her body moved with the instinct of hard training to spin, to pivot, to block the next. When she leaped over a low slash, she felt the wind of the sword under her boots, and with a scream of her own slashed for the throat.
Through the haze she saw the dragon that held Blair spiraling to the ground with its side pierced with arrows. The ground was littered with stakes. Grabbing one in her free hand, she rushed forward, then flung it through the back and into the heart of one who charged at Blair.
“Thanks. Duck.” Blair shoved Moira aside, and severed the sword arm of another. “Larkin.”
“I don’t know. They keep coming.”
“Remember your own hype.” Blair leaped up, striking with her feet, then rammed a stake through the one she’d kicked.
Then she was lost in the waves of smoke, and Moira was once again battling for her life.
As Blair hacked through the line, they closed in around her. She struck, sword, stake, fought to gain ground. And was suddenly soaked. As her attackers screamed from the flood of blessed water that rained down from above, Larkin flew out of the smoke, grabbing her lifted arm to haul her up behind him.
“Nice job,” she told him. “Drop me off. There, big, flat rock.”
“You drop me. It’s my time to have a go down here. You’re out of water, but there are two fireballs. She’s pushing in hard from the south now.”
“I’ll give her some heat.”
He leaped off, and she soared.
Through the melee, Hoyt searched with his eyes, with his power. He felt the brush of Midir’s dark, but there was so much black, so much cold, he wasn’t sure of its direction.
Then he saw Glenna, fighting her way back up a ridge. And standing on it like a black crow, was Midir. In horror, he watched a hand snake out of a fold of earth and rock and grab Glenna’s leg. In his mind he heard her scream as she kicked, as she clawed to keep from being dragged into the crevice. Even knowing he was too far away, he rushed through swords. Continued to run even when the fire she shot from fingertips coated what dragged at her.
Sensing power, Midir hurled lightning, black as pitch, and had her flying back.
Mad with fear, Hoyt fought like a wild man, ignoring blows and gashes as he worked his way toward her. He could see the blood on her face as she answered Midir’s lightning with white fire.
The stake missed Cian’s heart by a hairsbreadth, and the pain buckled his knees. As he went down, he thrust his sword up, all but cleaving his attacker in two before he managed to roll. A lance dug into the stony ground beside him. He gripped it, heaved it up to strike at another heart. Then planting it, he vaulted up, kicking out to send another flying to the wooden stakes the Geallians had hammered into the ground.
He saw Blair through the smoke that billowed from the fireballs and flaming arrows. With a pump of his legs, he leaped up, grabbing her dragon’s
harness to swing behind her an instant before she released another bomb.
“Didn’t see you,” she called out.
“Got that. Moira?”
“Don’t know. Take over here. I’m going down.”
She jumped down to the table of a rock. Cian saw her flip off, shooting stakes from both hands before the haze buried her. He swung his mount, aiming his sword, sending out fire. The ground continued to pull at him; its intoxicating scents of blood and fear driving hunger into him as keenly as a sharpened stake.
Then he saw Glenna, struggling her way up a sheer slope, and outnumbered three-to-one. Her battle-ax flamed, and each time she took an enemy, more crawled their way up toward her.
And when he saw the black figure on the high ridge, he understood why so many would go against a single woman.
The power of the circle battled back the hunger as he swept through the air toward his brother’s wife.
He sent three tumbling down against rock, into traps of stakes and pools of holy water with a wild strike from the dragon’s tale. His sword took two more even as Glenna’s fiery ax turned enemies into flaming dust.
“Give you a lift?” He swooped down, circled her waist with his arm and hauled her up.
“Midir. The bastard.”
Understanding, Cian soared up again. But when he struck out with the dragon’s tail, it bounced off as if it hit rock.
“He’s shielded. The coward.” Breath short and choppy, Glenna searched the ground for Hoyt. And felt the lock on her lungs release when she saw him fighting his way up the slope.
“Set me down on the ridge, and go.”
“The hell I will.”
“This is what’s needed, Cian. It’s magic against magic for this. This is why I’m here. Find the others, get ready. Because by all the gods and goddesses, we’re going to do this.”
“Okay, Red. My money’s on you.”
He flew over the ridge, pausing while she slid down. And left her to face the black sorcerer.
“So, the red witch has come here to die.”
“I didn’t come for the ambiance.”
She raised a hand, and charged with a swing of her ax. The widening of his eyes told her the move had surprised him. The flaming edge of the ax cut through the shield, but the blade missed its mark. She was propelled back, lifted into the air, slammed hard into the ground.
Though she threw out her own power, the scorching heat of his black lightning seared the palms of her hands. She held them out, held her power in them as she pushed painfully to her feet.
“You can’t win this,” he told her as dark shimmered around him. “I’ve seen the end, and your death.”
“You’ve seen what whatever devil you sold yourself to wants you to see.” She hurled fire, and though he deflected it with a snap of his wrist, she knew he felt her burn even as she’d felt his. “The end’s what we make it.”
With icy fury on his face, he brought a cutting wind that slashed at her skin like knives.
They were holding, Blair thought. She believed they were holding, but for every foot of ground the Geallians held, more vampires swarmed through the night and over it.
She’d lost track of her kills. A dozen at least with sword and stake, at least that many with air attacks. And still it wasn’t enough. Bodies littered the ugly ground, and even her strength was pushed to its limit.
They needed to pull the rabbit out of the hat, she thought, and screamed in vengeance as she slayed a vampire who’d stopped to feed on one of the fallen.
Whirling, slashing at others, she saw Glenna and Midir on the high ridge, and the firestorm of black against white as they battled.
She grabbed a lance from a dead hand, shot it out like a javelin. The spear tip went through two vampires fighting back to back, and the wood pole pierced hearts.
Something leaped down from above. Her senses caught just the edge of it, and her instincts had her pumping up into a high, wide flip. She slashed her sword as she touched ground, and clashed it against Lora’s.
“There you are.” Lora slid her blade down until it met Blair’s to form a V. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Been around. You got something on your face there. Oh! Gee, is that a scar? Did I do that? My bad.”
“I’ll be eating your face shortly.”
“You know that’s wishful thinking, right? In addition to being disgusting. Enough small talk for you?”
“More than.”
The swords sang as they slid apart. Then the music crescendoed as blade struck blade.
In moments, Blair understood she was facing the most formidable enemy of her career. Lora might look like a B movie dominatrix wrapped in snug black leather, but the French bitch could fight.
And take a punch, she thought when she finally got past Lora’s guard long enough to slam a fist in the vampire’s face. Blair felt the burn shoot a line across her knuckles as fangs sliced her flesh.
Blair flipped up to the jagged teeth of a rock, hacked down. And met air as Lora rose off the ground as if she had wings. Lora’s sword whistled past Blair’s face, and the tip of it sliced her cheek.
“Oh, will that leave a scar?” Lora landed on the rock with her. “My bad.”
“It’ll heal. Nothing about you is going to last much longer.”
She answered first blood with a lightning parry of her own, gashing Lora’s arm, then followed it through with a ripple of fire.
But Lora’s sword struck the blade aside, going black against the red flame. The fire spurted and died.
“You think we weren’t ready for that?” Lora bared her teeth as they hacked and thrust and swung. “Midir’s magic is more than your magicians can ever hope for.”
“Then why don’t all of your troops have swords like yours? He couldn’t pull it off.” Blair flew up again, flipping over and striking Lora with her feet. The vampire used the momentum to soar up, driving down with the sword on her descent.
Raising hers to block, Blair didn’t see the dagger that flew out of Lora’s other hand. She stumbled from the shock, the pain, when it pierced her side.
“Look at all that blood. It’s just pouring out of you. Yum.” Lora laughed, a tinkling sound of delight, when Blair fell to her knees. And her eyes gleamed red as she raised the sword high for the killing blow.
With a mad, undulating howl, the gold wolf pounced from above. Claws and fangs raked as he leaped over the swinging sword, as he lunged and snapped. When he bunched to spring for the throat, Blair cursed.
“No! She’s mine. You gave your word.” Her breath whistled as she stayed on her knees, the dagger still lodged in her side. “Back off, wolf-boy. Back the hell off.”
The wolf shimmered into a man as Larkin stepped back. “Get it done then,” he snapped, his eyes grim. “And stop messing about.”
“Pussy-whipped, is he?” Lora circled so that she could keep them both in her line of sight—the bleeding woman, the unarmed man. “But he’s right, we really should stop messing about. I’ve a busy schedule.”
She swung the sword down, and Blair thrust hers up to meet it, to block it, to hold it. The muscles in her arms screamed with the strain and her side wept blood and agony.
“I’m no pussy,” she panted. “He’s not whipped. And you’re done.”
She yanked the dagger from her side, stabbed it to its bloodied hilt into Lora’s belly.
“That hurts, but it’s steel.”
“So’s this.” With all her remaining strength, Blair shoved Lora’s sword aside, and plunged her own into the vampire’s chest.
“Now you’re just annoying me.” Lora hefted her sword, point down. “Now who’s done?”
“You,” Blair replied as the blade still in Lora’s chest erupted with flame.
Burning, screaming, Lora started to tumble from the rock. Blair yanked the sword free, swung it, hard and true, and cut off the flaming head.
“Fucking well done.” Blair stumbled, swayed, would have fallen if Larkin hadn�
�t sprung forward to catch her.
“How bad? How bad?” He pressed his hand to her bleeding side.
“Through and through, I think. No organs hit. Quick patch to stop the bleeding and I’m back in the game.”
“We’ll see about that. Get on.”
When he shimmered into a dragon, Blair crawled onto his back. As they soared she saw Glenna on the ridge clashing with Midir. And she saw her friend fall.
“Oh God, she’s hit. She’s done. How fast can you get there?”
Inside the dragon Larkin thought: Not fast enough.
Glenna tasted blood in her mouth. There was more seeping out of a dozen shallow slices in her skin. She knew she’d hurt him, knew she’d chipped at his shield, his body, even his power.
But she could feel her own power ebbing out of her along with her blood.
She’d done all she could, and it hadn’t been enough.
“Your fire’s cooling. Barely an ember left to glow.” Midir stepped closer now to where she lay on the scorched and bloody ground. “Still it might be enough to trouble myself to take, along with what’s left of your life.”
“It’ll choke you.” She gasped out the words. He’d bled, she thought. She’d made him bleed onto the ground. “I swear it will.”
“I’ll swallow it whole. It’s so small, after all. Can you see below, can you? Where what I helped wrought runs over you like locusts. It’s as I foretold. And as you fall, one by one, my power grows. Nothing will hold it now. Nothing will stop it.”
“I will.” Hoyt swung, bloody and battered, over the lip of the ridge.
“There’s my guy,” Glenna managed, gritting her teeth against the pain. “I softened him up for you.”
“Now here is something more to chew on.” Whirling, Midir shot black lighting.
