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“Forged by the gods, by the light and by the night. Symbol and shield, simple and true. For faith, for loyalty, these gifts for you. Their magic lives through blood shed, yours and mine.”
Pain sliced over his palm. He watched the blood well in his, and in hers as the fire burned.
“And so it shall live for all time. Blessed be those who wear Morrigan’s Cross.”
The fire died, and in the goddess’s hands were crosses of gleaming silver.
“These will protect them. They must wear the cross always—day and night—birth to death. You will know they are safe when you leave them.”
“If I do this thing, will you spare my brother?”
“You would bargain with the gods?”
“Aye.”
She smiled, an amused mother to a child. “You have been chosen, Hoyt, because you would think to do so. You will leave this place and gather those who are needed. You will prepare and you will train. The battle will be fought with sword and lance, with tooth and fang, with wit and treachery. If you are victorious, the worlds will balance and you will have all you wish to have.”
“How do I fight a vampyre? I’ve already failed against her.”
“Study and learn,” she said. “And learn from one of her kind. One she made. One who was yours before she took him. You must first find your brother.”
“Where?”
“Not only where, but when. Look into the fire, and see.”
They were, he noted, in his cottage again, and he was standing in front of the hearth. The flames spiked up, became towers. Became a great city. There were voices and sounds such as he’d never heard. Thousands of people rushed along streets that were made of some kind of stone. And machines sped with them.
“What is this place?” He could barely whisper the words. “What world is it?”
“It is called New York, and its time is nearly a thousand years from where we are. Evil still walks the world, Hoyt, as well as innocence, as well as good. Your brother has walked the world a long time now. Centuries have passed for him. You would do well to remember that.”
“Is he a god now?”
“He is vampyre. He must teach you, and he must fight beside you. There can be no victory without him.”
Such size, he thought. Buildings of silver and stone taller than any cathedral. “Will the war be in this place, in this New York?”
“You will be told where, you will be told how. And you will know. Now you must go, take what you need. Go to your family and give them their shields. You must leave them quickly, and go to the Dance of the Gods. You will need your skill, and my power, to pass through. Find your brother, Hoyt. It is time for the gathering.”
He woke by the fire, the blanket wrapped around him. But he saw it hadn’t been a dream. Not with the blood drying on the palm of his hand, and the silver crosses lying across his lap.
It was not yet dawn, but he packed books and potions, oatcakes and honey. And the precious crosses. He saddled his horse, and then, as a precaution, cast another protective circle around his cottage.
He would come back, he promised himself. He would find his brother, and this time, he would save him. Whatever it took.
As the sun cast its first light, he began the long ride to An Clar, and his family home.
Chapter 2
He traveled north on roads gone to mud from the storm. The horrors and the wonders of the night played through his mind as he hunched over his horse, fa
voring his aching ribs.
He swore, should he live long enough, he would practice healing magic more often, and with more attention.
He passed fields where men worked and cattle grazed in the soft morning sunlight. And lakes that picked up their blue from the late summer sky. He wound through forests where the waterfalls thundered and the shadows and mosses were the realm of the faerie folk.
He was known here, and caps were lifted when Hoyt the Sorcerer passed by. But he didn’t stop to take hospitality in one of the cabins or cottages. Nor did he seek comfort in one of the great houses, or in the conversations of monks in their abbeys or round towers.
