22 Nights (28 page)

Perhaps her instincts were not wrong at all. Kitty did not come near. Bela didn’t fool herself into thinking loyalty or fondness had anything to do with that fact. The sword still needed her, and needed Merin, too. The weapon which was more than a weapon wanted her warrior.

After several long moments an ear-splitting crack shook the cavern, and soon the bright light dimmed so that Bela no longer felt compelled to hold her eyes so tightly shut. She opened her eyes cautiously and glanced around the cavern, which was once again awash in a soft glow.

That light throbbed gently, much as a beating heart might.

At first Bela saw no sign of the sword, but then her eyes were drawn slightly up, as were Merin’s. A good two feet of Kitty’s blade was buried in stone. The tip of the blade had pierced a particularly graphic depiction of last night’s encounter and cut through the wall to its resting place. The grip extended from the cavern wall, and after a moment the glow of the grip died. Kitty was sleeping. Kitty was waiting.

Merin took Bela’s hand and squeezed it. “We follow the river,” he said hoarsely.

“We can’t know that the drawing is correct,” she argued. “What if it’s only leading us deeper into the mountain?”

“The river has to dump out somewhere,” Merin said sensibly, “probably on the other side of the mountain from the Turi holdings.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Of course he was correct, it only made sense, but still—she did not like the picture he painted. “It will take us forever to get home!” If they exited on the other side of the mountain, it could take
weeks
to get back to the village, depending on how far down the mountain they found themselves and the pathways they might—or might not—find. By then, what would Nobel have done? To her family, to her friends. She and Merin had to be there to fight! Bela increased her pace. “We must hurry.”

 

LEYLA
practically ran back to the hut. Her skirt was filled with redberries, and she held it high to capture the luscious berries securely. She didn’t want to lose even one. She’d already eaten a handful, but would eat no more until Savyn had enjoyed some. She had no sugar, no honey, no flour or seasonings to make a cobbler or a pie. But the berries alone were sweet, and Savyn would find them a wonderful change after days of dried meat and biscuits.

“Savyn?” she called as she pushed open the heavy, crooked door. Immediately she knew he was not here. She did not see him. He was not waiting silently in a shadowy corner. The hut was empty.

She rushed outside, still gripping her skirt in one hand so the berries would not fall. He must’ve walked outside to relieve himself, that was all. Maybe he was simply tired of the musty hut. She’d cleaned as best she could, and the place got more than its share of fresh air through the holes in the roof and the walls, but it still smelled of years of neglect.

Leyla looked around the side of the hut, which was easy to do as the back was built into the steep, grassy hill. Could Savyn have climbed that hill? Blind?

Frantic, she turned around and screamed his name. He was lost! Somehow Savyn had stumbled away and gotten turned around. Why hadn’t he waited for her, if he needed to get out of the hut for a while? She tried to calm herself. He couldn’t have gone far, and was sure to hear her scream. She’d call, he’d yell in response, and she’d follow the sound of his voice and lead him back here. Oh, he must be so afraid!

She never should’ve left him alone. They should’ve continued to exist on what little food they had until it was gone and they had no other choice. Leyla stood there and listened carefully, expecting an immediate response, a frantic “I’m here!” that she could follow.

Silence.

Her heart thudded loudly as she screamed again, “Savyn!” She held her breath as she listened for an answer.

He was hurt, he’d fallen, he’d . . . Leyla’s hands went numb and she allowed the berries to fall to the ground as she dropped her skirt. No, Savyn hadn’t gotten lost or hurt. He had run from her. She knew it. Should’ve expected as much after this morning’s confession and the way he had taken her wrist in his hand. Somehow he had begun to remember their past, and it was torturing him. He’d run, blind and helpless, because he could not bear her company any longer. He’d rather stumble about, alone and lost, than remain here with her.

She had never intended to hurt him so much; she had never intended to make him suffer for loving her.

Leyla took a step toward the road Savyn had surely taken when he’d escaped. Her dusty boots squished a few redberries which were scattered on the ground around her, but she barely noticed.

Her heart hurt in a way she had thought impossible. Her heart was hardened after a life which had never been easy. There should be no pain, not for her, but knowing Savyn was gone ripped her apart.

For years it had been easy for her to dismiss her relationship with Savyn as strictly physical. The physical had brought them together, and heaven knows it had been pleasurable enough. She’d never allowed herself to believe that what she felt for Savyn was anything more than fondness for a talented sexual partner, not even when he spoke words of love.

But deep down she knew their relationship was much more than simply physical. In all her life, no one had ever wanted her just for herself. Her parents had feared and sold her. Her husband had purchased her for her beauty and her magical gifts. Her new family had despised her. Only Savyn had wanted her for herself. Only Savyn had brought love and pleasure into her dismal life. All these years she’d convinced herself that she had used the younger man for his hard cock and his pretty face and his ability to make her forget, for a while, who she was—who she had become. But now that he was gone, she longed for nothing other than his arms around her, his voice to assure her she was safe.

She loved Savyn. Until he’d gone, she had not realized how much.

Making him forget had been a mistake, perhaps the biggest of her mistake-filled life.

 

BELA
followed Merin’s lead as they walked along the rocky bank of the river, which was in her estimation more of a creek than a river, though in the cavern drawings it had looked much more fierce. The water ran through the cavern, beginning at a wide and crooked crack in the wall—probably fed by a massive underground spring—and flowing quickly through the glimmering cavern.

They left Kitty and the cave carvings behind, and yes, she did suffer more than one moment of doubt. Kitty was hers! The weapon was special and powerful, an ally like no other. And the sword was intended for her daughter, apparently. Hers and Merin’s.

Nobel would be pissed. Bela supposed that was one advantage of hiding Kitty in a place where she would not be found. The precious sword would not fall into Nobel’s hands.

As they walked, bound by the braided rope and often hand in hand, the water which ran through the cavern grew wider and a bit deeper. It sparkled with radiant crystals which shone beneath the surface, sometimes creating rainbows deep in the water and all around, sometimes throwing colored patterns onto the walls. Bela tried not to look at the water too much. Something about it was enchanting, and not in a good way. She could get caught up in the glow and the life there; she could easily sit down and run her fingers through it and just . . . stay.

She and Merin moved deeper and deeper into the mountain, not speaking as they searched for a way out. Did his mind go to the same places hers had gone?

Bela was terrified. What she felt for Merin was so deep, and it seemed so real—but what if it was not? What if her love for Merin was false, what if it had been created by the magical sword which directed that her warrior be made? Made of unconventional woman and heroic man, made for battle but conceived in love. But what if the love faded as they left Kitty behind? When Kitty no longer had the power to reach into her mind, would the love which had grown so strong fade away?

Now that she knew love, she did not want to lose it. She wanted what she felt to be real . . . she wanted it to last. She wanted more nights like last night, more sunrises like the one she had seen such a short time ago. Heaven help her, she even wanted babies. Babies who would be safe, babies who would not be called to fight in battles so fierce they required a magical sword and a destined warrior.

It was true that Bela herself would’ve been pleased enough to be called to fight, but her unusual life, her sometimes shocking choices—they were hers. She had made them
on her own
. Would her daughter have those same choices, or was the unborn child doomed to fight whether she wished to or not?

The cavern began to narrow, and soon there was barely room for the water which rushed through, much less a path beside the water. Merin’s booted feet slipped into the water, and he recoiled and uttered a sharp curse as he jumped back.

“What is it?” Bela asked.

Merin turned and looked her in the eye. “You know the way Kitty could get into our heads and talk?”

Bela nodded.

“Imagine a hundred or more Kittys talking at once,” he said, and then he glanced down. “The crystal that makes the water glow is alive the same way Kitty is alive.”

“Great.” Bela glanced ahead, noticing that the path narrowed considerably. They would have no choice but to walk in the water.

Merin turned his back to her. “Hop on,” he said.

“That’s not . . .” Bela had been about to say “necessary” when Merin grabbed her arm, jerked her to the side, and in doing so forced her to step into the river.

As soon as the rushing water touched her boots, the voices invaded her mind. She could not make sense of any of it because, as Merin had said, they all spoke at once. They screamed, they chattered . . . they even laughed. Bela leaped from the water, and this time she gratefully jumped on Merin’s back, throwing her arms around his neck and wrapping her thighs around his waist. “Just for a while,” she said, feeling cowardly but not particularly caring about that at the moment. “It’s horrible and grating and loud,” she said. “How will you be able to stand it?”

Merin looked ahead at the sparkling river that seemed to stretch forever, throwing rainbows and unnatural light onto the walls and the ceiling so far above. “What choice do I have?”

FOR
all her well-shaped muscle, Bela didn’t weigh much at all, particularly positioned as she was on his back. Just as well that she not have to listen to this. It was all Merin could do not to turn back and run from the water and the voices.

He knew what lay behind him, so he would not go there. Death waited if he retreated. Death from starvation, most likely, or perhaps he and Bela would die from thirst. He could not imagine taking a drink from this water. No, life lay ahead, life for him and for Bela. All he had to do was survive the cacophony in his head.

The voices spoke in many different languages. Some were soft and some were insistent. Some screamed, some whispered. The whispers were hardest to ignore.

Soon all the languages Merin did not know faded away, and the crystals spoke to him in the language he could understand. Some laughed at him, others urged him on. Some thanked him, a few expressed their disapproval of his methods. It wasn’t long before he began to mutter responses, answers which were angry and confused, for the most part.

After a short while, Bela began to hum what sounded like a lullaby. Even though the tune was soft, her lips were near his ear and Merin heard her well. He concentrated on that sound, on the harmonious humming, on the soothing melody, and while the voices didn’t go away, they did fade somewhat, slipping into the back of his mind. The maddening sounds remained, but he did not listen to them. Instead he listened to Bela.

As if the voices knew he was no longer paying proper attention, they stilled for a moment and then began again, differently this time. There were many voices, but they spoke as one. Even Bela’s lullaby couldn’t keep them out of his head.

You are ours, Tearlach Merin. Body and soul, you are destined to serve us
.

“I serve only the emperor,” Merin responded.

Merin did not have an immediate answer for that. He had not served Jahn well, not of late. He’d failed in a simple task; he’d lain with a woman who was meant to be presented to the emperor.

The very idea made Merin’s skin crawl, and then it made him angry. “You won’t have my child.” If there was a child. Was it already done? Did Bela carry the daughter who was meant to wield Kitty?

The lullaby stopped. “Are you talking to them?” Bela asked.

“Yes.”

“What do they want?”

Surely she knew. “They want our daughter.”

Those last two words were whispered in a hundred—no, a
thousand
—voices that resounded in Merin’s head
. Our daughter. Our daughter.

“Sing,” he ordered gruffly. “For the sake of my sanity, Bela, sing.”

She no longer hummed, but instead sang the tune. Her voice was surprisingly clear and pleasant. What she had hummed was indeed a lullaby, a soothing song of sweet dreams and full moons and white dancing flowers. The words were as soothing as the melody alone had been. They were soothing because they were delivered to him in a pleasing voice he loved to hear.

The song was short, as lullabies often were, and when it was done, Bela immediately began again. She did not stop, she did not leave him alone with the voices. Gradually the unwanted voices in his mind faded away, even though he moved into deeper water.

But all was not well. Merin was afraid that too soon Bela’s feet would touch the cursed river, and when that happened, there would be nothing more he could do to save her from the voices.

 

LEYLA
sat upon the bed she and Savyn had shared, her legs drawn to her chest, her head down so that she rested in a tight ball of agony. What now? What should she do? Her life had not been easy, and she had made many mistakes along the way. She had made many decisions she wished could be undone. She’d been hated, desired, and feared. She’d been bought and sold. But she had never been alone.