Pagan Fire (22 page)

Jorvik pushed himself up on one elbow. Suddenly sober, he asked quietly, “Will you kill me?”

She looked up, dazed, as if seeing the man for the first time. Maere fought to focus her thoughts.

“Will you kill me?”

Maere hesitated before speaking. Would she? Could she? “Understand, I don’t know what happened. I’m not certain I can control it. Please, leave me be.”

Jorvik snorted. “Gladly.” He stood to leave.

From outside someone shouted, “Need any help taming the wench?”

Jorvik groaned. He faced Maere. “I will spend the night here.”

Maere’s expression sharpened.

He held up his hand. “For whatever my word is worth to you, I swear on my father’s body, where it lays outside, that I will not touch you.” He glanced toward the door.

“Untie me first.”

The man’s features shifted. There was distrust now written on his face.

“I will not leave.” Maere extended her leg. “But I will not stay tethered to this post like a wild animal any longer.”

He approached her carefully. Drawing his dagger, Jorvik flicked it against the sinew, cutting her free. He took a step back.

Maere gingerly touched the raw skin around her ankle as she removed the last bit of sinew. “You’ll stay on
that
side of the room.” She shifted around until her back was to him. “And there will be no more drinking tonight.”

“Not to worry.” Jorvik grabbed a blanket from a pile of them near the wall and lay down in the opposite corner. “It’ll be a long time coming before I go near that damnable stuff again.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Dylan slept fitfully, the night filled with dreams and nightmares and too many thoughts, and rose early the next morning. Seelie was still sleeping as he picked up his bag and headed to a stream not far up the path. The water would be cold, but it was what he needed to clear his head so he could focus on his quest.

Reaching the gentle stream, he disrobed, pulling his shirt over his head and dropping his breeches to the ground. Dylan left his clothing where it fell and entered the cool clear water. He leaned into the soft current and let it take him along its path. Water droplets clung to his lashes as he closed his eyes. Images of the water goddess came to him unbidden. She had been resting beneath the surface of the water the night Maere was born.

“Dylan,” she had called out softly to him. “Come to me.” And so he went, a boy of six, to see the pretty lady of the lake. She’d granted him the magic of the trees that night and he thought there could be no one more beautiful than she, with raven hair and silver eyes.

Except Maere, as a mature young woman. His stomach twisted and he opened his eyes. No, he had to stay the course and not be weakened by feelings. His first priority was to avenge the deaths of his loved ones and to keep Eugis from taking Maere’s power, even if that meant he would have to forcibly take it himself.

Dylan stood and scooped up a handful of sand from the bottom of the creek and scrubbed his body with it. Diving under, he rinsed and returned to the surface, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

He left the water and dressed. The air hung heavy around him as he started back to camp, as if it would push him back into the water.
Magic? Perhaps. Perhaps only a portent of more rain.

Returning to camp, Dylan found it empty. “Seelie? Where are you, girl?”

He checked the hawthorn bush. Her clothing was gone. Dylan paced the clearing, checking behind each and every tree and boulder. Seelie was nowhere to be found.

“Now what?” he called out to the sky, knowing deep inside who was to blame for this. “What new trial have you set for me, Morrigu?” The day would come when he would face down the goddess. It might be his death, but anything was preferable to being a pawn in her game.

Dylan pulled his thoughts together and focused on the hawthorn bush. Seelie must have been here, when she dressed. Would his magic work here? Though large in size, the hawthorn wasn’t exactly a tree. It could do no harm to try. He spread his hands over the bush, letting them rest lightly against the dark green leaves. “Tell me, good plant, what happened here this morn?” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Show me Seelie.”

Images flooded Dylan’s mind. He saw two men ride in on horses, and one dismounted, and approached Seelie. The men were large and dirty and wore the fur and leather clothing of the Picts. Seelie sat up. “What do you want?” she asked, her eyes darting from one man to the other.

The one nearest to her spoke. “We don’t want no trouble from you.” He took a step closer. “Master Eugis says we’re to bring you with us.”

“What?” Seelie stood. “Why would he want me?”

“Aren’t you the girl Maere?” He stepped closer. “He has need of you.” The other man, still sitting atop his ride, guffawed.

“Maere, you say? And Eugis sent you?” She touched a finger to her cheek as if in thought.

“He is tired of waiting for those cursed Vikings to do his bidding.” The man tapped his chest square in the middle. “Sent us, he did, his own countrymen, ‘cause he knew we’d do better.”

“But how did you find me?” She folded her bedding as she talked. It was obvious to Dylan that she’d been trying to extend their stay, in the hope he would return soon to help her. He never should have left her alone.

“The goddess said those yellow ones cheated Eugis, but she didn’t say more than that. He decided you’d be out here somewhere, with a black-haired man, so here we’ve come a-tracking. You are Maere?”

“Aye, ‘tis me.” Seelie placed the bedding in a neat pile.

“You’ll give us no trouble, then? You’ll come nicely?” He glanced about him. “Where is your companion?”

“If you mean the man who stole me from the abbey, I’ve escaped from him,” Seelie said. “I would very much like to see my uncle and will come quietly. Please, let me dress first.” She gestured toward the hawthorn. “My clothing is there.”

The man walked back to his horse and mounted. “Be quick.”

And so Seelie took her clothes and walked behind the bush. As she dressed, she spoke quietly to it. “Dylan, I hope you can see this. I hope you can hear me.” She glanced at the men. “What I do is in hope of giving you time to find Maere. Do not come after us.” Seelie finished dressing and adjusted the scarf she’d put on the night before, making certain her blonde hair was still covered. “Stay away. I will be fine.”

The taller rider trotted over, helped her atop his horse, and the three left the camp.

Dylan opened his eyes. He wavered, uncertain whether to ignore Seelie’s command and follow her anyway or continue his search for Maere. Seelie was brave, but she didn’t know Eugis, didn’t know what he was capable of doing. It was strange that Morrigu apparently hadn’t let on Maere wasn’t with Dylan. By the sound of it, she was playing Eugis as well, sending him scurrying this way and that in his bid for power.

Dylan decided he’d not let Seelie’s sacrifice be in vain. Without a backward glance, he headed into the forest in search of his betrothed.

* * * *

“Finally,” Eugis said, as his men approached.

“We brought her right to you, as quick as we could,” the tall one answered. He dismounted and pulled the young woman off his horse and shoved her toward his master. “You didn’t tell us she was so comely.”

“Did either of you touch her?” Eugis’ face grew dark. “Tell me now!”

“No, sir. Not that the thought didn’t cross our minds.” He grinned widely.

Eugis stared hard at the trio for a moment longer before turning his attention to the woman before him. “It’s been a long time, niece.” He ran a finger along her smooth cheek and down her chin. “Have you missed me?”

Seelie slapped his hand away. “You’d do well to keep your hands to yourself.”

“What I’d do well with is to make you my wife.” He smiled and spread his arms wide. “Am I so hard to look at? Would it be so difficult to bed me?”

“What have we here?” Eugis turned to find Morrigu approaching.

“Forgive me.” He bowed his head. “I didn’t hear you arrive, goddess.”

Morrigu dismissed him with a flick of her wrist. She stepped closer to Seelie, who instinctively took a step back. “Hold her,” Morrigu said to Eugis. Her eyes locked with Seelie’s for a moment before traveling the length of her body. “Does she have any identifying marks?”

Eugis thought for a moment. “None that I can remember. Why do you ask?”

“Are you certain this is the girl you’re looking for?” she said, offering a smug smile.

A jolt of panic shot through Eugis. He released his hold on Seelie and walked around her, looking her up and down. “Tell me your name, girl.”

Seelie met his stare head on. “Maere.”

“What of your parents?”

“What of them?”

She was defiant enough, that was certain. He stepped closer to her, their feet almost touching. “Tell me about them. What do you recall?”

“I don’t remember much. Only that they were murdered by Viking invaders.” She squared her shoulders. “And that you, kind uncle, rescued me and brought me to the abbey. Isn’t that correct?”

Eugis turned and put his arm around Morrigu’s shoulders, leading her away from Seelie. “That’s the story as the girl knows it,” he said. “The Abbess herself told me last I checked that Maere had never recovered her past memories.”

“Maere could have told that story to anyone, could she not?”

He considered this. “Why are you suspicious when victory is so close?”

“Why did you send your men to do your bidding, not believing Jorvik succeeded in his task?”

Eugis fought back frustration. “You told me he betrayed me. You told me I couldn’t trust him, that he’d gone north instead of after Maere as instructed.”

“I did not. I told you to decide for yourself as to the trustworthiness of the Vikings.” She shook off his arm. “Last we talked, you did trust them.”

“But I thought more of your words,” he said. “I value your counsel and came to believe that Dylan and Maere awoke and escaped the cave themselves, that Dylan still possessed the girl.”

Morrigu smiled that terrible knowing smile of hers. His face blanched. He’d been tricked!

Eugis called out to the men who had brought Seelie to him. “Was there anyone with this woman?”

“She was alone, said she’d escaped from a man.”

“Did she fight you?” Eugis ran a hand through his hair, fear gnawing at his gut.

The man shrugged. “No fight. She gave herself up peacefully.”

“What?” He looked sharply at Seelie. “You were never given to going quietly anywhere you didn’t want to go.”

“But sir,” the man said. “It’s like I said. She came willingly.”

“Is that true?” Eugis asked.

Seelie’s hands began to tremble as she nodded ever so slightly. “There was no fight because it was my choice.”

“Eugis?” Morrigu said. “Doesn’t our Maere have red hair?”

Seelie froze.

“Yes, she certainly does. At least, she did as a child.”

“Then it should still be some shade of the color, wouldn’t you say?” Morrigu raised an eyebrow.

Eugis reached out and ripped the scarf from Seelie’s head, sending her long blonde curls tumbling about her face. He grabbed her by the chin. “I can’t imagine your hair would have turned so light over the years.” Seelie tried to pull away, but Morrigu was standing directly behind her now.

“Tell us who you really are,” she whispered in Seelie’s ear. “Maybe then we’ll let you live.”

Seelie’s eyes grew wide. “I suppose it makes no difference now if I tell you. They’re already to the other side of the country.”

Eugis grabbed a handful of hair and yanked Seelie’s head back. He put his mouth  near the young woman’s face. “Who? Tell me who you’re speaking of or I’ll snap your neck.”

Seelie swallowed, hard. “Maere. And Dylan. The Vikings took her. Dylan and I were tracking them. He’s no doubt found her by now and they’ve escaped.”

So Jorvik had succeeded.
Eugis shoved the young woman to the ground and walked away, Morrigu’s laughter ringing in his ears.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The sound of horns blowing in the distance entered Maere’s dreams and stirred her awake. Someone came into the longhouse and approached her.

“Get up,” the old woman commanded. She wiped her hands on her woolen tunic and waited.

Maere stood and rubbed her eyes. In the dim light, she noticed Jorvik was gone. Where had the tall Viking retreated to at such an early hour?

The elder, for Maere decided that’s what she must be, tossed her single long gray braid over her shoulder and spoke again. “Come with me.”

“Where are you taking me?” Maere asked as she stepped gingerly to the doorway, her ankle still tender.

“Not for you to worry over.” Her escort pushed the blanket aside and held it open for Maere to pass through.

It was still dark, probably an hour or two before sunrise, and a thick mist lay near the ground. Several small fires dotting the campsite broke the ghostly cover in spots. Fire. Maere shuddered and looked away.

As her eyes grew accustomed to the night, she saw people gathering at the edge of the makeshift village, near Jorvik’s father’s body. The old woman tugged at Maere’s sleeve, indicating she was to follow her. “Come. It is almost time.”

“Time for what?” Maere asked, her eyes finding the fires once again, wishing them away.

“Time for the funeral. Everyone must attend, be they kin or not. It is a sign of respect for the dead and his family.”

Maere jumped at the deep male voice speaking from behind her. She turned around to find Jorvik, clothed in his battle armament, talking quietly to one of his men. A breastplate of black metal with stags hammered in relief spanned his chest, thick leather jerkins covered his legs, silver and copper bands circled his upper arms, and his sword and dagger hung at his waist. He was more formidable than ever, if that was possible.

“You appear to be going to war, not to honor your father’s memory,” she said softly.

“You know nothing of how we honor our dead. You know only your Christian ways.” Jorvik’s eyes narrowed and Maere realized the sadness they carried. She shouldn’t have spoken so.