VirtualDesire (12 page)

Gwen held her breath. She knew it was not her place to
convince Vad to help the woman.

“My time is limited. I have until the next lunar festival to
return to the capital. It is my charge from the Tolemac council. If I am late,
dire consequences will befall me.”

“More dire than the end of peace and the death of the
maidens? One has lived only eight conjunctions!”

Vad met Gwen’s eyes. She tried to keep her expression
neutral. He had to make his own decision. It was his life and his honor.

“Well, my little one?” he asked her. “Where shall we go? To
Selaw to rescue maidens or to the capital to see Samoht and complete my
mission?”

He did not ask idly, she realized, though he still leaned
indolently on the cave wall. The day of fighting for an honorable cause, no
matter the personal cost, was gone in her world.

She held her hands out like a balance and moved them up and
down. “Rescuing kidnapped maidens or facing Samoht? Hmmm. Either works for me.
I’m still trying to cope with the purple sky.”

Vad touched his hand to the hilt of the jeweled dagger
tucked in his belt. “Mistress Ardra, it will be an honor to rescue your
maidens.”

The boat in which Ardra had come was a sorry excuse for a
sailboat. Gwen eyed it with disdain. The sail was square-rigged and clumsy. She
imagined the oars were used more often than not. In the bow was a rolled set of
blankets and a painted wooden chest the size of a picnic basket.

Small as the stream had been that flowed from Nilrem’s cave,
it had taken but one sharp bend to join a wide and swiftly running river. The
river had no name, according to Vad. It was unlucky to name rivers, he’d said.

The sail was not raised, but instead of being carefully
folded on the boom, it was dragging on the deck. Deck? The boards were rough and
splintery, and Gwen couldn’t imagine why they weren’t leaking like a sieve.

Vad sat in the bow by the painted box, his warm hip against
hers, and kept an eye on the three Selaw archers in the stern. They took turns
at the tiller, refusing Vad’s offer to spell one of them. He did not, however,
look at Ardra, who sat on an embroidered cushion in the center of the boat.

At the moment, handling the boat seemed fairly effortless to
Gwen. The current was with them, and the only tricky part was negotiating gentle
rapids.

Her headache returned with a vengeance. The scenery was
alien and yet…not. If one ignored the sinking red sun and the lavender sky, it
could have been a trip along any river in New York or Pennsylvania, or for that
matter the Cotswolds of England.

She’d honeymooned in the Cotswolds—in a tiny cottage with
rough stone walls and hanging baskets thick with flowers. The wound of her
husband’s death usually seemed well healed until suddenly, the sight of a
flower, a scent, and it would all come flooding back. She had learned to live
with his passing, but not the loneliness of their parting.

She thought of the Tolemac maidens and the anguish of their
fathers, forced to make decisions in fear for a child’s life.

“Gwen.” Vad touched her shoulder. “What do you think of
these men?” He spoke softly by her ear. His breath was warm and woke nerve
endings long dormant. She swatted at her ear as if a mosquito buzzed there.

She inspected the men. The one at the tiller had a sullen
mouth and a blind eye, its iris milky white.

The second was tall and slim, his eyes an uncanny amber,
tawny and quite beautiful. He had the hard expression of a man who had seen
much and looked as if he’d steal a person’s purse—or her virtue—given the
chance.

The last was fair-haired like Ardra and the other men, but
his greasy hair was less carefully tended than the others’.

Gwen propped her chin in her hand and barely spoke between
her lips. “I think the men are not happy escorting Ruonail’s daughter. They
think they’ve better things to do than row her around the countryside.”

Vad wrapped her into his embrace, drawing her close to his
body, his mouth at her ear. Wonderful warmth flooded her.

“I think they intend to kill us.”

Gwen jerked in his arms. “Kill us?” she said in a squeak
against his throat, all warmth gone in an instant.

Vad pulled her closer and more tightly against him. He
brought his mouth very close to hers. She felt the heat of his breath, imagined
it scented with caramel popcorn. “Aye. They exchange looks when Ardra is not facing
them. They have noted my lack of sword. The one at the tiller has nodded twice
to the one on our right.”

“Maybe they’re just afraid of you.”

He tipped her chin back and whispered against her lips. “How
able are you? If they come for me, can you defend yourself?”

A quiver ran through her body. Vad’s hand moved like a
lover’s against her hip, caressing, moving up to her waist and then to her
stomach. Something cold and hard pressed against her. She covered his hand, as
if to stop its progress toward her breast. Her fist closed over the jeweled
dagger.

She swallowed hard. “I can’t,” she whispered against his
lips. “I can’t.”

Every muscle screaming with tension, Gwen sat silently at
Vad’s side. He remained as still as if carved from marble—very warm marble, his
long thigh hard against hers.

Gwen clutched the jeweled knife in her skirts for several
miles, her nerves taut, her hands cramped into fists. With every foot they
traveled, they drew farther away from what was familiar—or familiar to her from
the game. The terrain grew rockier, although the greenery remained thick, the
trees still mostly conifers. The air cooled despite the bright red disk
overhead.

Abruptly, Ardra rose. “Put to shore. I need a moment of
privacy,” she said, staggering as the boat rocked violently. Vad shot from his
seat to steady her, putting an arm about her waist. He held her hand and eased
her onto her cushion.

With a lack of skill that made Gwen grit her teeth, Greasy
Hair beached the boat with a jarring scrape of the bottom on marl. He leaped
out and wrapped a frayed rope about a jagged boulder. Then he attacked.

He whipped in a circle, snatched up a handful of muddy
pebbles, and cast them in Vad’s face. But Vad was gone—over the side in a long,
flat dive. In moments, a flurry of arrows hit the water where Vad had
disappeared.

Gwen screamed. Blind Eye yanked her over the side and onto
the muddy ground. Her feet tangled in her nightgown hem, bringing her to her
knees. She almost lost her grip on the jeweled dagger. With a vicious jerk, the
man dragged her forward. Her feet sank into the stony mud; her skirt slapped
heavily against her legs. He threw her to the ground.

“Stop!” Ardra shouted at her men. “What are you doing?”

The remaining two men sent another hail of arrows into the
water. “Be still,” Beautiful Eyes growled. “He is an outcast.”

“My father will hear of this treachery,” Ardra cried as she
scrambled over the side of the leaning boat and grabbed Blind Eye by the cloak.
“Let her be!”

With a quick thrust of his arm, Blind Eye pushed Ardra away.

“There,” Greasy Hair shouted, and another barrage of arrows
entered the water.

Blind Eye turned away. Gwen wrenched herself from his grip,
the dagger caught in the folds of her skirt as she raised it.

“Do it and die.”

Beautiful Eyes stood in the boat’s stern facing her—not the
river. He raised his bow. “Give me the knife.”

“What are you doing?” Ardra gasped. Water sloshed about her
skirts as she ran to where he stood.

“She has a knife!” the man said. “Take it from her!”

“Enec, you do not understand. You shall rue the day you
attacked him,” Ardra sputtered, and wrung her hands. “The warrior said she has
healing powers. She is needed to help my father.
He
was needed!”

Blind Eye burst into laughter and turned from his deadly
task. “Then we shall keep her alive until we get to the fortress. Just a mite
worn around the edges.” He wiped his arm across his brow and asked over his
shoulder of the other two bowmen, “Any sign of him?”

Enec turned his beautiful eyes on Gwen. They touched her
with a tangible stroke of malice. “He is surely dead. A man cannot stay beneath
the water for so long. But he is unimportant. We have this one.”

Gwen’s body quivered with fear. She glanced behind him for
Vad—or blood. The other two bowmen peppered the water and nearby reeds with
arrows.

“Have you no idea, Mistress Ardra,” Enec asked, “what it
means when a warrior has no sword?”

Ardra locked eyes with Gwen and shook her head. Gwen fought
to keep her expression neutral. She had never questioned why Vad had no sword.
No one had swords in Ocean City.

“It means he is a traitor. Tolemac strips traitors of their
swords. They inscribe their names in the rolls of infamy and display their
weapons for all to see. For him to be so close to our border, with no weapon,
means he is an outcast. Fair game. Perhaps even with a weighty reward on his
head. Listen!”

They all stood in silence. Gwen’s every muscle quivered. The
river sounds, the rustling of small creatures in the ferns and vines, the
soughing of boughs in the wind was all Gwen could hear. But it was obvious the
men sensed something. They stood alert, eyes wide, heads swinging to and fro
from riverbank to forest growth, bows aimed at the water—except Enec. He kept
his bow and his beautiful eyes trained on Gwen’s chest.

Ardra moved closer to Gwen. “This one is naught but an
innocent pawn in men’s games.”

“Hand over the knife. Now.” This time Enec did not wait for
an answer. He fired. The arrow hissed through the air, penetrated Gwen’s hem,
and buried itself deeply in the ground.

“Next time I aim for your breast. Now, Mistress Ardra, take
the knife and bring it here.” He stepped slowly from the boat and stood, his
legs braced in the knee-deep water.

With wide, frightened eyes, Ardra thrust out a trembling hand.

Gwen shook her head and put the dagger behind her. Vad
erupted from the water like an ancient water god, spraying a silver cascade in
a huge wave behind him.

Blind Eye threw aside his bow. A knife appeared in his hand.
Its curved blade flashed red in the sunlight as if dripping blood as he raised
it overhead. Vad moved in a blur. Blind Eye screamed. He fell forward, hands
clutching his middle. Vad tipped the boat. It rocked, but Greasy Hair managed
to raise his bow.

Vad jerked his long blade from Blind Eye’s belly and swung
his arm in a short arc. Greasy Hair turned in surprise. He looked down at his
chest, then collapsed over his friend.

Enec charged Gwen, knocked her flat, stepped on her wrist,
and plucked the jeweled dagger from her fingers. He turned and lunged for Vad.
Vad fought with savage grace. He was taller than Enec, his reach longer, his
blade heavier and more deadly. Enec parried, thrusted, then incongruously
backed off again and again in a confusing cycle of fight and flight.

Vad mirrored each move in an ancient deadly dance Gwen knew
he’d done before. He was who he said he was, a warrior, bred to fight—nothing
more.

Men feared to fight him lest they harm an angel of God
.
The ancient legend came back to her. She saw the words on the page, and the
stylized illustration of an angel fighting at King Arthur’s side. Vad was
Sandav, or a descendent of that ancient knight. The evidence of what he
represented was before her eyes.

Each twist that turned his scarred side toward Enec’s
beautiful eyes brought a vicious, slashing attack. Each turn that presented his
unblemished cheek sent Enec stumbling back, half-crouched in indecision. Ardra
shrieked and cried out for them to halt. Gwen inched to where a bow lay in the
mud. She lifted it.

“Stop,” Ardra cried, clutching Gwen’s sleeve. It ripped at
the shoulder. “You will harm someone.”

“Vad needs help.” She dodged the men, skirted the bodies,
and drew an arrow from a quiver on the boat deck.

She nocked the arrow. The bow seemed to weigh a ton and
trembled in her hands as she lifted it and aimed. The string resisted her
efforts to draw it. Her arms shook.

Vad turned. He saw her. With a low laugh, he leaped into the
boat and out again on the other side, callously stepping on one body in the
process, and snatched the armed bow from her hands. The arrow flew.

“Enec!” Everyone froze. Ardra’s scream echoed down the
river. Gwen stared at her, shocked by the unexpected anguish in Ardra’s voice
and etched on her face. Was Enec more than just a servant to the Selaw woman?

The two warriors stood still, gazes locked on one another.
The jeweled dagger fell from Enec’s hand. He fell with a soft splash into the
water.

Ardra ran to the riverbank. “Enec!” she cried, but he had
drifted, facedown, out into the current. In moments he disappeared. “No. Oh,
no.” Her distress touched Gwen. How must she feel knowing her father’s men had
betrayed her, especially if Enec was more than just an escort?

“What will we do?” Gwen whispered.

“Remain with Ardra. I will go along the bank and see if he
survived.” He lifted the quiver of arrows from the boat. “Are you injured?”

She shook her head. “I-I-I’m all right.”

Ardra half rose from her knees, her eyes on Vad’s bow. “You
plan to kill him.”

“Nay. I will pull him ashore if he yet lives,” Vad said.
“Then you may decide his fate.” Vad disappeared into the trees.

Gwen’s body began to violently shake in reaction to all that
had happened. Ardra stood tensely by the boat, her gaze fixed on the spot where
Enec had fallen. Abruptly she reached into the water, withdrawing the jeweled
knife Enec had dropped.

Gwen did not know how Ardra could stand so close to the dead
men. What if they weren’t actually dead? One glance told her they were—very
dead.

Her head ached from the strain of listening for Vad. All she
heard were river sounds and the wind in the trees.

Biting her lip, not sure what to do, she knelt on a dry
patch of grass and peered into the verdant shadows. A rustling sound drew her
to her feet. Vad appeared.

“There is no sign of him,” Vad said gently to Ardra. “Just
be grateful he did not harm you or Gwen.”

“I do not understand what happened. They would have killed
you all. Enec has always been…loyal to me,” Ardra said, her eyes still watching
the swiftly flowing water.

Vad lifted Ardra’s chin with his fingertips. “You placed
some value on the man?”

Ardra whipped away from his grasp. “Should we bury these
treacherous knaves?” Unlike Gwen, Ardra showed no reluctance to look at the
dead men.

“I think we will give them a water burial. We have not the time
nor implements for digging. Say whatever words you want over them now and be
done with it.” He began to pile up stones by the boat. Gwen helped him, keeping
her eyes averted from the bodies.

Ardra closed her eyes and touched her breast, then opened them
and touched the men on their foreheads. “May you be forgiven for your sins
against my house.” But Gwen sensed she was thinking more of the man with the
glittering amber eyes than of those lying so silently before her.

Together Ardra and Vad stuffed stones into the men’s
clothing. With some coiled rope from the boat, they wrapped the men securely
like bundles of wood. Gwen stood by and tried not to watch.

When the bodies were prepared, Vad assisted Gwen and Ardra
into the boat, then shoved it into the water. The current caught it, pulled it
into the center of the river. He carefully rolled each body overboard. They
sank quickly, only tiny streams of bubbles marking their passage.

Gwen swallowed and blinked.
I will not be sick
, she
thought.

The boat turned, the stern swinging violently toward the
bank. Gwen swore.

“Sit down!” she shouted at Vad and Ardra, who moved about as
if on dry land. She hauled the crude sail up and, with motions learned in
childhood, secured the line. Stumbling over Vad’s long legs, she jerked her
nightgown away from a splinter of wood and grabbed the tiller bar. The boat
drifted ever nearer to the shore, and with one eye on the sail, Gwen watched
it, willed it to catch the slight breeze.

Slowly, slowly, the boat responded to her touch. The sail
filled. The bow turned. With a nod of satisfaction, she steered the boat into
the current.

Ardra sank to her cushion, her hand wound tightly about
Vad’s arm. Blood stained his sleeve. “Are you hurt?” She ran her hand over his
arm and up to his shoulder.

“The blood is that of your men,” Vad said briefly, and
touched her hand. “But your concern should be for yourself. You are wet, and
Enec could have killed you.”

Ardra shook her head. “But he did not. Perhaps he will
survive to repent of his sins.” She stroked Vad’s arm rings.

Gwen contemplated a tacking maneuver that would probably
dump Ardra overboard, but decided she was being childish. So what if she was
wetter than Ardra and in nothing but thin cotton, while Ardra had a cloak as
well as a heavy gown?

Tears burned in her eyes a moment. She wiped them on her
sleeve. She was just tired. That was all it was. She was just tired and cold.

Ardra did not take Vad’s word for his lack of injury and
insisted on rolling up his sleeve. She ran a hand from Vad’s wrist to his
shoulder, her fingers lingering and exploring the three engraved arm rings he
wore.

“At least there is now a use for Gwen,” Ardra said when her
inspection of his arm was over. She rolled Vad’s sleeve down. “You will want
this back.” She handed Vad the jeweled dagger.

“Aye. ‘Tis a valuable piece. Thank you for saving it.” He
made his way to the bow and sat down. He thrust the dagger into his big boot.

A flash of cold ran through Gwen. It overpowered the chill
of her wet nightgown against her legs and hips. It overpowered the
uncomfortable longing she’d felt when Ardra had touched Vad.

Ardra’s words made her feel as if she’d been invisible,
useless. Vad’s lack of response hurt more deeply. She wasn’t useless. Why
didn’t he come to her defense?

He tugged off his high boots and emptied them of water. As
he pulled them back on, he frowned. “We must assess our supplies. There are
only these few blankets to keep us warm. Where did you pass each night on your
way here?”

“There are several settlements along the river. While
waiting for Nilrem on the mountain, we suffered the elements. It was proper to
do so.”

He nodded. “Gwen is not garbed to suffer the elements. She
needs heavier clothing. Will we reach one of the settlements before the
moon-rising?”

“No, and we must avoid the one that offered us shelter on
our outward journey. Surely they will question why my men are…missing. We must
make another choice—farther along the river. If Gwen manages the boat properly,
we shall be there ere the light fails tomorrow.”

He nodded. “Then we must find our own shelter this night and
seek a settlement on the morrow.” With an intent stare, he asked. “Why did your
men attack me?”