Mira (14 page)
When Rillan’s eyes opened, he already knew she was dead.
Her body was still warm, but there was no heartbeat.
A tear formed in the corner of his eye.
He lay there holding her for so long sunlight began to threaten at the mouth of the shaft.
At last, he got out of the bed, refusing to look at the body he left behind.
For days
,
Rillan refused to enter her rooms.
He didn’t want to face the task of taking her to the altar in the clearing.
He didn’t want a replacement.
In the end, he turned off all feeling he had left, walked into the bedroom, wrapped the body in a blanket from the bed and carried her out of the caverns.
Elizabeth
’s small frame seemed to weigh tons, as he brought her into the fresh air and moonlight.
“It’s not right.
The first time moonlight graces your skin in nearly a decade and you’re not able to feel it,” he whispered, laying her gently on the cold stone.
He stood over her for a short time, unable to remember the words to the prayer that his people said over the dead.
It had been too long since he last heard it.
Death is too constant around me.
If I were to begin reciting the words I would never again be able to say anything else,
he thought despondently, before turning back to the darkness and solace of the caverns.
Returning to her rooms, Rillan stood beneath the shaft, reached up and closed the heavy wood and wrought iron door.
The hinges creaking echoed down the halls and thudded with finality, and he forced the latch into place.
Reaching up through the cobwebs Rillan took hold of the latch.
Gripping it tightly he pulled. Nothing happened. Years of disuse rusted it in place.
Grim determination pushed Rillan on.
Taking hold of the handle with both hands, Rillan’s eyes darkened to black and his skin paled.
One solid yank from the monster forced the rust immobilizing the latch to crumble, raining down on him in orange metal flakes.
The sound of scraping metal screeched down the hallway, echoing out the main door and through the caverns.
Latch finally open, the heavy door groaned on its hinges, and the door swung wide.
More than a century of accumulated dead leaves and rotting vegetation dumped onto Rillan from the neglected doorway to the outside.
Brushing himself off, he peered up the shaft into the night sky.
Elizabeth
’s skylight wasn’t as deep as his.
The moon seemed a bit closer seen through this shaft, and it didn’t take quite as long for the night air to filter down into the room.
Fresh night breeze washed away the still stale air in the bedroom.
Elizabeth
’s room was exactly the same as the day he carried dead body out, with the exception of layers upon layers of dust and hanging cobwebs.
“I really have my work cut out for me,” he grumbled to himself.
He walked to the table in the corner where
Elizabeth
had left the dress she was sewing that night.
Picking it up, the fabric crumbled and sent a cloud of dust billowing across the room.
Rillan choked on the air, but continued his task with determination.
Chills ran down Mira’s back.
A screeching metallic noise rang out down the hall, waking her.
Sitting bolt upright in bed, her mind raced.
She wasn’t sure where she was or how she had gotten there.
Slowly her eyes adjusted to the dim light dancing around the room from the fireplace.
As the details of her room came into focus Mira, remembered with eerie clarity the last thing she did before falling asleep.
Or perhaps I should say passing out
, she thought.
“Rillan,” she called into the darkness.
There was no answer.
“I wonder how long I was out this time.”
She could smell stew simmering in the kettle in the fireplace and there was a full pitcher of water and a cup on the stand next to her bed.
Mira sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Picking up her dressing gown from the foot of the bed she pulled it onto her naked body and slid off the edge of the bed.
The frigid stone floor sent chills through her, and she quickly found her slippers.
Memories of the first time she woke up after his feeding rushed into her mind.
It surprised her to find that she didn’t feel too badly at all this time.
She began moving about the room lighting candles.
She ladled some stew into a bowl and placed it on the table, before going to get some bread, cheese, and a bottle of wine from the storeroom.
Mira couldn’t decide if she was disappointed or relieved that she didn’t wake up in his bed.
Her body tingled with the memory of what happened before she fell asleep.
A smile crept across her lips, with the thought.
After she ate, Mira warmed herself a bath and went about trying to get back into her routine.
However, she found that her mind continually drifted back to the night in Rillan’s bed.
She considered going to him again, but embarrassment held her back.
Eventually, she wandered down to the study with all the books; half hoping she would run into him.
But the halls were silent.
When she returned to her room, she took her silver whistle and sat down on her bed.
After an hour of unsuccessfully trying to distract herself from the insistent tingle between her legs, Mira set the whistle aside.
Nervously she scanned the shadows for any hint of movement that might reveal Rillan watching her.
When she was relatively satisfied that she was alone, Mira laid down on her bed.
Hesitantly, she pulled her skirt up her body.
She briefly considered how embarrassing it would be if Rillan caught her, as she slid her hand beneath her undergarments.
A soft moan escaped her lips, when Mira’s fingers slipped across her mound and into her wet heat.
Slowly she began stroking her clit, running her fingers in long satisfying caresses.
Closing her eyes, she pictured Rillan sitting between her spread legs, his fingers exploring her pussy.
Mira bit her lip and tried to hold back the whimper, as her body began to shake.
Mira lay there after the waves of pleasure calmed.
It would have been a lot more intense if Rillan had done it,
she thought, with some disappointment.
* * * *
“Liam, you’re insane,” his brother whispered in the darkness.
“It’s not like anyone can hear you,” Liam snapped.
“Why do you insist on whispering?”
He held the lantern higher and light reached farther down the tunnel fighting back the black.
“No one at the village may hear,” Gavin insisted, “but who knows what else might hear.”
He held the pickaxe in his hands as if it were a weapon.
Liam shook his head.
“Stop that.
The tombs don’t connect to the vampire’s tunnels.”
“Sure that’s what they tell us.
Liam…
Is she worth this?
She doesn’t even know how you feel about her.
There are so many other girls in the village.”
Liam didn’t answer his brother.
Yes, she’s worth it,
he thought.
“What does it matter?
Now that Tiberius knows about the vampire, chances are that Rillan ap Tiernay won’t be returning from his latest mission.
They’ll leave Mira in there to die, waiting for him to come back.”
“Just because the rumors say that some traitor told Tiberius how to kill Tiernay, doesn’t mean it will actually happen.
I have a hard time believing that it could live this long and be that easily dealt with.
I don’t care how good they think Tiberius is.”
Gavin’s voice took on a solid confidence now that they were having a real conversation.
The darkness seemed less oppressive as long as he kept what they were doing off his mind.
“Besides, don’t you think mother has been through enough?”
“What’s that supposed to me
an
,” Liam scowled at the mention of their mother.
“Liam,” Gavin said seriously, forcing his brother to look at him.
“Father only died recently.
Mother has been through enough.
The last thing she needs right now is for the entire village to be talking about the insanity of the sons of Arnauk.
Digging in the tombs to try and reach the vampire caves.
If we get caught it would kill her.
And I don’t want to deal with our sister either.
Helen would be almost worse than mother.”
Turning away from his brother and ignoring Gavin’s arguments, Liam tried to force himself not to think about the consequences of his actions.
“Let’s try down here,” Liam said, pointing toward a dead end at the end of the tunnel.
Gavin sighed heavily and followed, knowing that there was no dissuading Liam this time.
The sight of corpses lying in niches around the alcove stopped Gavin.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.
Liam, this is wrong.
If you have to do this, there has got to be another way.”
Liam strode with purpose toward the back wall.
Three bodies wrapped ceremoniously,lay on stone beds carved into the wall.
Runes decorated each shelf.
“You tell me what the other way is
,
and I’ll gladly change the plan.”
He carefully reached through the ages of dust and cobwebs, picked up the body, and reverently placed it with one of the other corpses on the opposite wall.
“Until you come up with that plan though, could you give me a hand?”
Swearing under his breath, begging the Fates’ forgiveness for himself and his brother, Gavin helped Liam move the bodies.
Without a word, the two men took up position in front of the stone wall, lifted their pickaxes over their heads, and began chiseling away at the wall.
As the stone began to pile at their feet, Gavin turned toward Liam.
“How do you even know you’ll be able to find a way into the vampire’s tunnels this way?
What if we’re destroying the tombs for nothing?”
Liam swung his axe with determination.
“I’m getting her out of there Gavin.
That’s it.”
* * * *
Cleaning
Elizabeth
’s rooms took Rillan far more time than he first expected.
Every night that week, he returned to his own rooms and turned his bath water black with dust.
He stood in the middle of the main room, examining his handy work.
There wasn’t a trace of dust, the rusted latch on the shaft cover had been replaced, he brought in new blankets, took all of the things that had been
Elizabeth
’s to a storage room down the hall, he filled the store room with fresh food, and brought in wood for the fireplace.
Rillan propped the shaft open to allow fresh air to circulate through the chambers, and he left.
Striding down the hall, pleased with himself, Rillan decided that he earned some sword practice.
It had been a while since Rillan swung his sword.
Over the past month, he was either not in the mood or busy with something else.
Lighting the candles in his practice room, Rillan shed his clothing down to his breeches, and selected a well used sword from a rack on the wall.
Swinging it back and forth, loosening the muscles in his arms, and rolling his head along his shoulders, Rillan approached the armored dummy.
Shortly, the sound of clashing metal on metal rang out down the hallway.