Aislin of Arianrhod (Land of Alainnshire) (10 page)

She stood up slowly from a crouch, all of her senses on alert. “Roderic?” She heard nothing, so she called a little louder. “
Roderic
!”

Nothing.

She fought panic as her eyes scanned the forest.
Why wasn’t he answering her?

With only a second of hesitation, Aislin plunged into the underbrush. Thorns and thistles pulled at her clothing and hair as she pressed forward.

“Roderic!
Where are you?
”

Silence.

She picked up the pace as she ran, her hands held out in front to shield herself from the sting of limbs and branches. She was at a full sprint when she stumbled out onto a grassy clearing, dark and humid under the canopy of the forest.

She stood, gasping for air, her eyes trying to adjust to the gloom, when she spied a body on the ground. She knew it had to be Roderic, lying on his stomach in the dark green grass. Her breath caught.

No! Not dead!

Aislin started toward him and abruptly skidded to a halt. Several dark figures had stepped out of the underbrush and now stood all around him. Her mother had warned them that Blackthorne Forest was full of thieves and criminals of every kind. And had they listened?

Now she was face to face with some of them. She’d left her knife back at the campsite and had no way to defend herself.

They stood silent, their faces hidden by dark hoods pulled over their heads. With a boldness she didn’t feel, she asked, “Who are you? What do you want?”

They started to move slowly toward her. Aislin backed away in alarm, trying to maintain the distance between them.

“Who are you?” They kept up their silent advance.

Could she outrun them? Her feet wanted to fly, but concern for Roderic kept her rooted to the spot.

Soft noises warned her there were more, and they were closing in on her from behind. She couldn’t bear to look.

Roderic gave a small moan, and she tried to run to him. She’d barely taken a step forward when two of the hooded men seized her wrists and twisted her arms behind her. Gasping in pain, she struggled to free herself, but they held her fast. Four of the men hoisted Roderic into the air and carried him off into the forest.

This can’t be happening!
Who would summon help for Arianrhod if they couldn’t? Maeve, Devin, Gwen and her mother were stuck in the cave.
They’ll never know what happened to us!

Aislin narrowed her eyes as a lone man on a black horse rode into the center of the clearing. He dismounted and stood facing her direction before he handed the reins to another. Blinking, she tried to focus in the twilight. He too had a hood pulled low over his face.

He walked slowly toward her, and it seemed to her as though he was gliding along the ground. He was much taller than the others. She could see even in the darkness that he had an authoritative air about him.

He came to a stop directly in front of her. She shuddered as he studied her, his face a dark void behind the hood. Summoning every ounce of strength she had, she tried to twist out of their grip. She could barely move.

He slowly began to lift his right hand, the first two fingers extended into the air. It seemed to mean something to those holding her. One of them grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head back at an angle. The movement was unexpected, and she exhaled sharply.

He brought those two fingers down to the hollow of her throat and pressed them there for a few seconds. Slowly, he pulled his fingers from the depression at the base of her throat, sliding them gently up the right side of her neck. She shivered at his touch. He stopped at the curve of her jaw, hesitated for a moment, and then forcefully pressed his fingers into the nerve under her jawbone.

Pain shot through her body, an explosion of heat trapped within the confines of her skull, fusing her bones together and boiling her blood in her veins. She was dimly aware of arching violently forward as a spinning wall of flame sucked her up into its center.

“I’ll take her with me,” the hooded figure commanded. They handed her limp body up to him after he had mounted the horse.

Shifting her to get a better hold, he looked down into her face. An unexpected ripple of pleasure teased him. The thought popped unbidden into his mind:
She is beautiful.

She is an enemy. Everyone is an enemy to your people. You must find out who they are and what they want, and then you must kill them both.

He turned the horse around so abruptly that it reared up on its back legs and pawed the air before taking off at a hard gallop back into the heart of Blackthorne Forest.

Chapter Twelve

T
HE PAIN IN AISLIN’S SHOULDERS brought her around the next morning, though every part of her body felt like it was on fire. Forcing her eyes open, she rolled her head to one side, and the world began to spin. She groaned in agony.

She closed her eyes again, determined to lie quietly and let the thick fog that enveloped her clear away on its own.

What had happened in the forest? And where was Roderic? She tried to listen for some sign of him, but she heard nothing. Wherever she was, it was as silent as a tomb.

Her wrists were bound. She shifted slightly and heard the soft
chink
of the chains. She picked her head up and looked around. She was lying on her back nestled in a pile of blankets on the floor of a pure white marble room. The room was very small, and there were bars on the door. Everything was pure, clean, ethereal white. It was clearly a prison, but it looked like no prison she’d ever seen before.

Looking through the bars, Aislin could see the bottom of several richly colored tapestries hanging on the walls outside. The place felt like a castle. But where?

Feeling like she might be able to move without being sick, she pushed herself up to a wobbly sitting position. She tipped her head forward against her knuckles and closed her eyes. The man had done
something
to her jaw. With only two fingers.

Why do I feel like I’ve been run over by a herd of wild stallions?

A piercing scream shattered the silence.
Roderic!

Aislin jumped to her feet and ran for the door, but the chains around her wrists brought her to an abrupt stop. She could hear him continue to scream, agonizing long screams of pain that could only mean he was being tortured.

The screaming stopped. There was dead silence for several minutes, and then she heard a lone set of footsteps out in the hall, heading in her direction.

She pulled back as far as the chain would allow, crouched down in the corner, and waited.

They had descended on the man first, thinking he was the leader of the two. They chained him to the wall, kicked and beat him, but he said nothing. He wouldn’t give his name, nor would he give them the name of the woman with him.

In frustration, the tall, hooded man stepped forward to read his memories. He got nothing but nonsensical bits and pieces of disjointed thought: black, smoky swirls, the man crying over a young woman on a bed, more darkness, the man lying on a bed staring at the wall, a burial of someone who was obviously of high rank, the man sobbing. A young boy’s face popped into view, and he recognized the landscape of Wyndham, but none of these memories meant anything to him, and it gave him no clues as to who they might be.

The man had screamed the entire time, as if reliving his past was incredibly painful. No one had ever reacted like that to a mind read. The council decided to see if the woman would be more cooperative. The hooded man made it clear that he, and no other, would be the one to go to her.

He stopped in front of the cell holding the woman and waved his hand over the handle. The door swelled open, and he stepped inside.

Aislin knew it would be the man on the horse before he even stopped in front of her cell.

She squeezed her eyes shut fearfully as he entered. He took a few steps and crouched down in front of her. She cautiously opened one eye, tilted her head obliquely, and peered over at him. He was just far enough away that she couldn’t see under the hood. The hood made her feel sick and uneasy. What was he hiding under there?

“Who are you?”

Aislin was shocked to hear that the voice was normal, rich and deep. She could understand him. He didn’t sound vicious or threatening. In fact, she thought he sounded rather anxious.

Recovering a bit of her courage, she lifted her chin and said, “I might ask you the same question.”

“I will be the one who asks the questions. Who are you?”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“You have a name?” he asked.

“I do.”

“And what is that name?”

“You first,” Aislin said.

“I insist that you tell me your name!”

“And I insist that you tell me yours!”

“You came here looking for us, didn’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aislin snapped impatiently. “How could I be looking for you if I don’t know who you are? I’ve seen nothing but the hood over your head!”

She was surprised to hear a low growl come from behind the hood. He stood up, pushed the hood back a little on his head, and then was back on his haunches in front of her. He held both hands out, and she cringed, thinking he was reaching for her jaw again.

“Look at me!” His voice was so powerful that she did as she was told. She couldn’t see anything but his eyes, shards of sharp green ice under the hood. It was impossible to look away. She felt him put a hand on either side of her head, and whisper something unintelligible to her. Her body relaxed; she slipped down the wall. And then...nothing.

The hooded man smiled slightly as the woman’s eyes rolled back in her head. He closed his own and began to read her memories.

She was a child attempting to mend something, but an older woman was displeased and pushed her out the door, slamming it shut behind her. The same little girl trying to give the woman a bouquet of flowers, but being pushed away, the flowers thrown to the floor. A ragged little urchin throwing rocks at an older boy. He laughed at her, and then hugged her close to him. A small girl hoisted into the air by a king. A half grown woman with a look of pure joy on her face, barely clothed, long legs exposed and barefoot, riding bareback on a stallion, holding onto its mane and galloping at full speed. Then the woman was shoveling the stables, though she seemed to be happy to be doing so.