The Stag Lord (32 page)

29

B
ANN WOKE WITH THE
dawn, and the warmth of Shay next to him. A blue-gray light, the color of flint, outlined the closed curtains. Rolling to his side, he fingered a lock of gold hair sharing the pillow with him. Wishing beyond wishes that he could spend the rest of morning—or the rest of his life—gazing at Shay's sleeping face, he allowed himself one minute of daydreaming, then slid out from under the comforter. As he bent down for his clothes, she stirred and blinked awake.

“Is it time?” she whispered.

“Not quite.” He leaned closer and nuzzled her cheek, breathing in the scent of her warm body. “Sleep yet.” She rolled over and burrowed under the covers.

Back in his room, Bann showered as stealthily as he could, not wanting to wake Cor. He pulled on jeans and a thick, hand-knitted sweater over a T-shirt. A sweater that still held a whiff of the scent of his long-ago home—peat smoke and sea salt and verdant grass. He added a canvas hunting jacket and work boots. Dressed, he picked up his iron knife. “You would be doing me a great favor,” he said to it in Gaelic, “if you could find your way into that monster's heart by day's end.”

Slipping it into the sheath on his belt, he walked through the bathroom to Cor's room. The bed was empty. He headed down to the kitchen; voices and the aroma of coffee wafted toward him.

Hugh, looking like a redheaded Paul Bunyan in a plaid flannel shirt, was sharpening knives with a whetstone at the one end of the table. Next to him, Cor watched, eyes locked on the task, as Hugh explained the correct angle and draw of blade against stone and oil and the care one must take when sharpening bronze. At the older Knight's gesture, Bann handed over his own weapon with a nod of thanks. The soft
sweesh-sweesh
filled the room.

At the other end, Ann and the younger Knights were poring over a map. Both James and Rory were outfitted in what looked like the sales bin from an army surplus store. Ann was dressed more simply in a sweater and jeans.

Bann smiled when he recalled her offering to stay behind with Cor. “I'm not the hunter the rest of you are,” she had explained. Hugh and the others had snorted with laughter, causing Bann and Cor to look at each other in confusion. Shay had gone on to explain that Ann was one of the finest hunters of her generation and could wield a blade as lethally as any of them. When Bann had started to thank the woman, she had pulled him into a corner.

“You can thank me by getting my husband, my niece and nephews, and
your
butt, as well, back home safely. You do
that
, Bannerman Boru, and we call the score even. And don't worry for Cor.” She locked eyes with him. “He's one of us now. And if the worst happens, please know that we will raise him to the man you'd want him to be.”

Unable to speak, Bann had hugged her fiercely. When he started to release her, she had stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear. “But we would much rather watch
you and Shay
raise him.” Before he could speak, she'd kissed him on the cheek and walked away.

Now, making a beeline for the coffee machine, Bann helped himself to a mug. He turned when Shay walked in a moment later.

Dressed in dark jeans tucked into hiking boots, she wore a royal-blue quilted hunting vest over a thick black sweater, the dark colors setting off red-gold hair pulled back in a braid. A belt, slung low on her slim hips, sported a pair of hunting knives, one of bronze and one of steel. Chatting with James, she bent over for a closer look at the map.

Taking a sip, Bann studied her over the rim of his mug. Rory joined him, an empty cup in hand. “You're staring at her butt, you know,” he muttered, reaching around for the carafe.

“Am I?”

“You totally are.” Shay spoke up, eyes still on the map.

“I am not. I'm simply—”

“Oh, yes, you are.” Ann said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Hugh? James?”

“Aye, to be sure.”

“Seems like it to me.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Cor piped up.

“Nothing,” said Bann, Rory, Shay, Hugh, James, and Ann in a perfect chorus.

After a breakfast that only Rory and James really ate, the hunters set out, crossing the yard through ankle-deep snow toward a stout wooden gate set off to one side. Overhead, the clouds sulked, waiting for a chance to dump another load so they could hurry along with their trans-continental journey. Max circled around the hunters, herding them like sheep.

The last one out, Bann lingered in the doorway. Squatting down, he laid his hands on Cor's shoulders. “You mind Ann while we're gone.”

“Yes, sir, I will.” Blinking hard to control the tears, he flung his arms around his father's neck and hugged him with a fierceness that ravaged the man. “I love you, Dad,” he whispered.

“And I you.” He pulled away and hurried after the others. His eyes were fixed on the woods beyond the wall.

His heart remained with his son.

Once outside the gate that Hugh had opened for them, the five hunters paused. Pulling weapons free, they looked at Bann.

“‘Only by one of noble blood,'” Hugh said, eyebrows raised in expectation.

Bann gave a curt nod. “Max.” Slipping a hand under the dog's muzzle, he gazed into the brown eyes. “Guard, boy. Find that monster.”

Max jerked his head free and danced away. Lowering his nose, he began sniffing, casting back and forth until he locked on the shapeshifter's tracks. On silent paws, he trotted away, heading east, a wolf in the woods.

Shay beamed. “That's my boy.”

Bann hurried after the dog. Several yards behind him, the rest of the Knights jogged in single file, their movements as silent as the hound's. The vegetation and the snow muted the sounds of the nearby city. Here and there through the trees, Bann caught a glimpse of the tallest rocks and cliffs of the Garden of the Gods less than a mile away, the orange-colored sandstone surreal amongst the grays and browns and whites of the surrounding land.

After a half hour of slogging down a slope, gradual but treacherous with hidden rocks and deadfall, Bann emerged onto a little-used dirt service road bordering the western edge of the Garden. Hoodoo rocks and slabs of red sandstone were iced in vanilla. Nearby, Max waited for him, tongue lolling out; steam rose from his mouth.

Pausing to let the others catch up, Bann felt a cold kiss on his face. He looked up. Flakes landed on his eyelids and cheeks.
Damn. Max may lose the trail in this. We need to hurry
. He laid a hand on the dog's neck.

At that moment, Max stiffened. Ears pricked, he stared at a grouping of massive boulders about ten yards away. Through his palm, Bann could feel the beginnings of a growl. “Quiet,” he breathed, tightening his fingers in warning. As the Knights neared, he caught their attention, then made a slashing motion across his throat.

Approaching on silent feet, Shay reached his side first, both blades out. Her cheeks were pink with cold and exertion. A desire to order her straight home to safety flared up inside of him.
Not a good idea
, he thought, thinking of the fight he would have on his hands if he tried.

“Max has found them,” Bann whispered instead. “Keep him with you while I scout ahead.”

Snagging the dog's collar, Shay nodded. She looked back and motioned for her family to wait.

With every molecule of his body on high alert, Bann crept closer to the jumble of rock. Tracks from heavy boots crisscrossed each other, disappearing around the largest one. Moving with more than a hunter's care, he pressed himself against it and peered around.

A cave, its black maw half-hidden by a juniper tree, penetrated the side of a hill. The snow in front of it was muddied and tramped down. Bann cocked his head; voices echoed from within.

Fir Bolg voices.

So, it begins
. An odd feeling, like he was watching himself from a distance, filled him like it always did before a fight. He shook it off.
Keep yer wits about ye
. Catching Shay's attention, he jerked his chin toward the rocks. She nodded back, then signaled the others before creeping over to Bann, Max on her heels.

“What is it with caves and our enemies?” she said, her lips close to his ear. “Is it like some kind of rule? If you're a foe of the Tuatha Dé Danaan, you have to live underground or something?”

Before he could answer, Hugh and the two younger Knights joined them. “What's your plan?” Hugh's beard was dotted with frozen condensation.

“We need to draw them out,” Bann said in a low voice. “Once they're above ground, strike fast. Do not let them retreat back to the cave.”

“‘You shall not paaasss,'” Rory whispered, stabbing the ground in front him with a two-handed, melodramatic thrust. At Bann's frown of confusion, he added, “I'll explain later.”

“Look, we know what
we
need to do,” James said with a grin. “
You
just do your part and kill that son of a bitch so we can get home in time for the game. Avalanche drop the puck at two-thirty.”

“Dude.” Rory elbowed his cousin. “He's from Pennsylvania. He's probably one of those die-hard Penguins fans.”

Hugh reached over and smacked the backs of both their heads with a growl. “The next one who speaks gets a boot up their arse.” He turned to Bann. “How are we going to draw them out?”

Bann looked at Shay. “I still haven't decided about you being the bait for—”

“You're kidding, right?” Sliding one of her knives free, she strolled over to the open space in front of the cave and whistled. “Max?” She called, leaning over to make sure her voice carried into the cave. “Where are you, fellow? Here, boy. Oh, Maaax!”

Hugh knelt in the snow, both arms locked around the dog's neck as he struggled to hold him. Shay called again, then waited.

Silence. Then, the echo of booted feet. They grew louder, mingling with hoots and cheers. Shay gave a fake scream. Then she scurried over the edge of the clearing and sat down, secreting her knife behind her and pretending to hold her ankle. Glancing over at the hunters, she waved and blew a kiss, an actress accepting applause.

“What a ham.” James shook his head.

What a woman
, Bann thought. He held his breath, wondering how he could be sick with worry and impressed by her courage at the same time. He took a deep breath, shifting his feet under him. Behind him, he could hear the other Knights move into position, Hugh murmuring to Max to hold on one more minute, there's a good boy. “Then, my fine fellow, you can have all the Fir Bolg to eat that you desire.”

“If they fall for this, they must be dumb as dirt,” Rory muttered.

Fir Bolgs burst out of the cave, shoving to be first. One held a spear, the rest, knives.

“Nope,” James whispered back. “Dumber.”

Bann did a quick count.
Good. Only five. An even fight
. When they spotted Shay on the ground, one leg twisted beneath her, they slowed, grinning like sharks as they circled her.

“Hey, it's that Fey bitch's bitch. What are you doing out here all by yourself?” A Fir Bolg sauntered closer, spear in hand. He stood towering over her.

“Stay back!” Shay yelled with just the right amount of panic. “I'm armed.” She waved her knife at him. She kept her other hand behind her back.

He snorted. With the butt of his spear, he knocked the weapon out of her hand, sending it spinning away into the snow. “No, you're not.” He moved closer, his pelvis crowding her face.

Shay tipped her head back. The look of fear faded, replaced by one of glee. “Why, yes, I am.” With a smile, she whipped out her other knife and planted it to the hilt in his groin.

Bann winced.

Mouth stretched wide in a silent scream, the Fir Bolg fell back, the blade jutting out like an erection. His companions stared at their friend writhing on the ground.

“
Faugh a ballagh!
” The war cry burst from Bann's throat as he charged the Fir Bolg nearest to Shay, his blade flashing. In a desperate twist, the Fir Bolg scrambled to one side, his own knife whipping around, trying to catch Bann in the ribs. Or heart. Or guts. Bann deflected the blow with a downward slash. Shifting to a two-handed grip, he pressed the attack, forcing the creature back, his blade singing through the air.

“Boru! Leave off!” Out of nowhere, Hugh was shoving him away. “Follow Max! He's still on the Stag Lord's trail!”

Bann whirled around in time to see Max's hindquarters disappear along a path winding away into the rocky maze. He sprinted after him.

Running through the snow, he struggled to keep up, his feet slipping on invisible snags. He labored along, one eye on Max's pawprints, the flat light and falling snow making the prints difficult to see; he frowned when the dog's tracks turned west and began climbing back up the hill they had just descended, snaking around trees and rocks. Leg muscles burning, he clambered to the top of the ridge and paused, gasping for breath. Below him, he could hear the faint sounds of fighting.
Danu
, he prayed,
keep her safe
.

Movement out of the corner of his eye.

He turned.

30

B
ANN HIT THE GROUND
as the spear whistled past his head, the point passing so close he swore it took some hair. Snow showered down when it struck the pine behind him. Rolling to his back, he brought his blade up just in time to block a curved knife from slicing into his face.

Sreng leaned over him, pressing down on his own weapon with both hands. Muscles straining, Bann pushed back. A foot kicked him in the ribs with a whump that jarred his entire body and drove the air from his lungs.

The blade inched closer to Bann's throat. “Another day, another Knight.” Sreng bared his sharpened teeth in amusement. “Get it? Another day, another—”

With a roar that was almost a scream, Max barreled into Sreng. The Fir Bolg rolled twice, then scrambled to his feet. Pressing the attack, the dog slashed at the creature's legs, his teeth snapping in a blur. Drawing blood, he leaped to one side, twisting and dodging, avoiding the Fir Bolg's wild swings with almost playful gestures.