VirtualDesire (17 page)

“I know how we can get past the guards,” Gwen said as they
moved into the center of the river. Vad and Ardra ignored her. “Okay. I’ll just
shut up and sail the boat.”

A few miles later, she tried again. “I have an idea.” When
they ignored her, she fell into a state of irritation. She started humming.

Vad swung abruptly around. He’d been honing his knives for
the past few miles. “What are you singing?”

“A song from a Disney movie.”

A fleeting look of consternation crossed his face. “‘When
you wish upon a star…’”

“That’s it. You remember.”

“What is it you remember?” Ardra asked, her own head tipped
in question.

“Nothing,” Vad snapped.

“Vad. If you remember something, you can’t just ignore—”

“It is impossible to ignore you. You are like this festering
wound on my arm. You are the drip of water from a spigot. You are—”

“I get it.” She took a deep breath, then softened her tone.
Maybe his arm really did hurt. “Do you think your wound’s festering?”

“Aye,” Ardra piped up. “I must get a potion from the healer
once we are in the fortress.” She pointed.

Gwen followed the direction Ardra indicated. She swallowed.
Her stomach danced. A huge edifice seemed to hang from the black cliffs. It
loomed over the horizon like a dark castle harboring bloodsucking vampires.
Behind it loomed even larger jagged mountains. But it was the sight of Vad’s
arm as Ardra checked his wound that filled Gwen with alarm.

There were no telltale red streaks running up his arm, but
the wound looked terrible. “Hold the tiller, Ardra,” she said. As Ardra took
her place, she admonished her firmly, “Don’t change anything. Just hold her
steady.”

“This looks bad, Vad.” Gwen pressed the puffy area around
his wound. “No wonder you’re so grumpy. Does it hurt much?”

“A warrior is trained to ignore bodily discomfort.”

She probed around the wound. Then her eyes fell on the knife
strapped to his hip. Alarm turned to stomach-churning dread. The handle was
dull, with a grayish tinge.

She dipped his binding in the water and wiped some of the
noxious ooze away. “You’re probably at the sixth level of awareness, aren’t
you?” she said absently.

“Seventh.” Despite his assurance that he was trained to
ignore discomfort, she felt the tensing of his muscles beneath her hands.

“Hold still,” she said, and touched his forehead with the
back of her hand. He was cool. The heat that zinged through her each time they
made contact was gone. “You don’t feel feverish, but we should do something
about your arm. Soon.”

“‘Tis unimportant.” He jerked from her touch. “We have more
urgent matters to attend to. Such as entering the fortress.”

“I think I can get us past the guards,” Gwen said. “If we
don’t get there soon, this arm will be useless; you’ll be useless to the
maidens.”

He grunted. “Ardra’s healer will have a potion for the
wound, but as you say, we will not be able to obtain it if we do not get past
the guards. What is your plan?”

“Oh, it’s pretty simple, really. I used to sneak out at
night to walk on the beach. My mother and father never knew a thing. I used to
stuff my bed to look like someone was sleeping there. If they peeked into my
room, it looked like I was snuggled down in the covers—safe and sound.

“I thought we could use the same ruse. We can masquerade as
Ardra’s men. There are two of us, right? Besides Ardra, I mean. Well, she left
with three men. We have plenty of extra clothes, and if we stuff them with furs
and arrange them like a sleeping man, we could pretend it’s one of her men—say
he’s wounded, sick, or just say nothing unless the guards ask.”

“‘Tis a most wonderful idea,” Ardra said.

“Vad can grease up his hair with some of the stuff he saved
from his less than marvelous eel meal, and I can pretend to be Blind Eye. Don’t
you think I could pass for him if I’m sitting at the tiller, Ardra? Vad’s the
only oversize one here, and he can…I don’t know, kneel in the bow, scrunch down
and tuck his legs under the dummy.”

The grin that lit Vad’s face almost knocked her backward. He
hoarded his smiles. The one he directed at her now was as powerful as the sun,
as potent as straight Scotch to an alcoholic. Womankind had no chance near Vad
with a smile on his face.

“What do you think, Vad?” Ardra asked.

“I think the idea as marvelous as my eels.”

The boat drifted a bit as Gwen maneuvered it into the narrow
cut that rushed to the deep labyrinth beneath the fortress. The river wound
away from them and off to the front of the fortress. The rock base on which the
fortress crouched was black, thick with lichens, encrusted at the water’s edge
with tiny gray barnacle-like animals, and it all looked even more forbidding up
close than at a distance.

Arrow slits seemed to provide the only openings in the sheer
rock walls of the fortress.

The Fortress of Ravens.

It looked deserted, brooding, aptly named.

A cloud of black birds lifted from the high walls as their
boat skimmed along with the tide. The flock circled, screaming, then soared off
toward a distant expanse of white.

“Great,” Gwen muttered. “Birds of ill omen. What’s that?”
She pointed to a glaring white plain that lay snuggled in the vee between two
high mountains dwarfing the fortress.

“The ice fields,” Vad said.

It looked like ants were crawling along the sheer face of
the ice wall. “Are those people climbing it?”

“Aye, they are cutting the ice. If you could see the base,
you would see the wagons that will transport the ice to Tolemac. You would also
see the necessary military escort.”

“You were in charge of those escorts, weren’t you?” Gwen
asked.

He nodded and rolled his tunic down over his wounded arm. “It
was an honor to be trusted with such a mission. I commanded men from each
chiefdom and was entrusted to bring the ice back without incident. Under my
care, no man lost his life, and no chip of ice arrived melted.”

“Then you must know the fortress if you guarded the ice
shipments.” Gwen said. Ardra stuffed clothing with the furs, tugging and
pulling the garments into a credible humanlike shape.

Vad shook his head. “Never did we have contact with the
Selaw, save to direct them in the filling of the wagons. It was forbidden.”

“Why?” As she asked, rain started. It came without warning,
pelting them with stinging drops. Ardra and Vad pulled a fur over their heads.
She remained face to the elements, the boat demanding all her attention.

“This rain is a blessing,” Vad called above the hiss of rain
on the river’s surface. “It will not look suspicious that we hide beneath the
furs.”

“Be careful of your hair, else this will wash off.” Ardra
pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose as she dipped her fingers into the eel
grease Vad had saved and wiped it through his hair.

Gwen thought that with dirty hair, Vad looked almost evil,
if you saw him from his scarred side. She shivered—and not from the rain
dripping down the back of her neck. She also realized he hadn’t answered her
question concerning the Selaw.

The sky went night dark with the driving rain. A swirl of
purple-edged clouds scudded along with the harsh sweep of wind. Ardra seemed to
shrink into the fur lining of her hood. Her confident manner had disappeared.

Gwen wanted to offer some encouragement, but knew her words
would be whipped away. She held her breath and concentrated on her sailing. The
rocky channel narrowed so that little more than an oar’s distance stood between
them and the walls on each side. The sail flapped as the wind died.

“They should call it the Fortress of Maidens,” she muttered.
“They haven’t a chance—and neither have we.”

Vad’s hair was clumped in greasy hanks. She could smell him
from her place in the stern. “You’ve never looked better,” she quipped to keep
her own spirits up.

He grinned and winked, then pulled a fur forward. His face
disappeared in shadow.

She scrambled about, lowering the sail, securing it, letting
the tide take them forward, using only an occasional push of an oar to steer
them.

They bumped on the rocky wall, scraped along for a few feet,
and rounded a sharp curve. A hewn rock entrance to the cliff base faced them. A
crenellated ledge ran across it. In the openings stood two men, bows drawn,
arrows pointed right at them.

“It is Ardra,” Ardra called. She stood in the bow, lowered
her hood, and shook out her hair. She made a quick gesture with her hand to
where Gwen plied an oar to keep them from splintering against the rocks, and to
Vad, who hunched by the fake Selaw man.

“You were expected days ago,” called one man. Neither
lowered their bows.

“Aye. We lost our way in a side stream and needed to
backtrack. ‘Tis lucky we found our way at all.” There was a slight tremor in
Ardra’s voice. Gwen crossed her fingers.

One archer gestured them closer. Water sheeted down from the
lip of rock over his head. Despite the rain, his arrow was clearly aimed at the
center of Ardra’s chest. “You will need to light your way.” He lowered his bow.
Setting it aside, he tossed down a rush torch and a small pouch. “I am sorry;
it is very wet.”

“You would do well to take better care next time.” Gwen
stiffened at Ardra’s complaint, then realized that for the woman in charge,
making such a complaint would not be unusual.

The man bowed and took up his weapon. Gwen felt as if the
archer’s eyes were burning holes into her back as she shoved the boat along
with the oar. They entered a huge maw of blackness—and rapids.

Like an amusement park ride, the boat rushed through the
opening. Gwen swallowed a scream as the boat smashed against the rock wall,
bounced off, and was swept inside.

Blackness enveloped them. A hand touched hers—Vad’s. She
clutched it—hard. They were being pulled along with the tide, with no steering,
no ability to stop. A loud roar of water sounded ahead. A waterfall? Gwen’s
insides churned. She pictured them going over the falls, smashing in a pile of
splintered wood and bone. Only Vad’s hand reassured her.

Without warning, the boat stopped short. They were thrown
forward into a heap of arms and legs in the bottom of the boat. Vad’s hair
whipped across her mouth.

“Yuk.” She spat out the eel grease caught on her tongue.

“Stay where you are. That was a most terrible docking,”
Ardra said. Gwen stifled a retort about warnings. She could not identify the
sounds coming from the bow, but when a smoky light gleamed out from where Ardra
stood, she realized it was the sound of flint striking stone.

The cavern was so dark, the scant light of Ardra’s torch
made her feel as if they were in a tiny oasis and all about them was a desert
of blackness.

“There,” Ardra said, raising the torch and pointing at the
set of slimy-looking steps cut into the rocky wall and leading to a long, flat
landing.

Vad tied up the boat to a gleaming brass ring—a sign that
the docking site was well tended despite the slippery steps—then he climbed
out, turned, and assisted first Ardra and then Gwen from the boat. Gwen wanted
to leap back into it and somehow leave this dark, moldy cavern.

“I know many rooms in the grotto that are not known to
anyone save my father. He is far too occupied, too ill at heart, to be
searching about down here.”

“Don’t you think you should make an appearance first? What
if the guards mention you’ve arrived, but your father hasn’t seen you yet?”

Vad agreed.

“I will at least take you to a safe spot to await my return.
A warm place where you may bathe in one of the old springs.” Ardra held the
smoky torch aloft and marched forward. With the greasy smoke and dripping
walls, Gwen felt almost smothered.

Within moments, Vad felt lost. They had turned and twisted
through the underground caves until he did not know if he was facing in the
direction of the sun-rising or not.

Each step away from the boat reminded him quite sharply that
he hated dark places. Something wet dripped on his neck. He almost cried out,
but stifled the sound in time.

Finally, when he wanted to turn and run back, Ardra halted.
She lifted the torch. A sheer wall faced them. Water ran down it in small
rivulets.

“A dead end. Are we lost?” Gwen asked.

Lost
. He could not be lost in this torturous place.

“No, we are not lost.” Ardra gave a soft laugh. “I wish I
could bring Narfrom here, though, and lose him.”

Gwen looked from Ardra to Vad. He shifted the bows and
settled his long knife lower on his hip. Her gaze followed the movement. “Vad,
Ardra. Look.” Gwen grabbed Vad’s forearm, and he groaned at the contact with
his wound. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, but look.”

She gestured Ardra near with the torch. The hilt of Vad’s
knife was almost gray. “The knife handle, it’s losing its color. You’re ill.
Your arm must be much worse than it looks. You can’t do this. Let someone else
rescue the maidens.”

Ardra touched the tip of her finger to the knife handle. “It
is the light, or your imagination, Gwen.”

“No, I’m right. I saw the knife in Ocean City, long before
you did. It’s losing its color. Come on, Vad, tell her I’m right. You’re the
one who said you can tell the wearer’s health by the stone’s color, didn’t you?
Well, it’s changed! Why deny it?”

“And if it is changing? I feel quite capable.”

“Really? How’s your sword arm?”

“I have no sword!” There was a tightness about his eyes, a
pain she knew ran deep.

“Can you draw a bow?”

“Well enough.”

A burst of fear churned in Gwen’s stomach. “Vad, I’m afraid.
Can’t we think of some alternative to direct confrontation?”

Vad shook his head. “We must do whatever is necessary.”

Ardra drew near. The reeking smoke from her torch filled the
air with its pungent odor. “You are truly a man of honor, Vad, not to abandon
us. A man of great kindness.” She dropped into a deep curtsy.

Gwen said. “What if you went to the council and reported
what Narfrom has done, revealed the kidnapping plot. Won’t the councilors look
more favorably on you if you not only give them the dagger and map, but also
Narfrom’s plot?”

Vad and Ardra exchanged glances.

“Okay.” Gwen bit out the word. Her head was beginning to
pound. “What’s going on? What did I miss?”

“You may say you know Tolemac,” Vad said, “but you are sadly
lacking in an understanding of the rites of punishment and retribution. First,
if we report the kidnapping, each councilor whose daughter was taken becomes
suspect from that moment on. They might lose their positions, forfeit two,
possibly three of their arm rings—”

Gwen interrupted him. “Are you saying that a little arm
jewelry is more important than the safety of a daughter?”

Ardra gasped. “Arm rings are not jewelry,” she cried. “They
mark one’s place, separate the outcasts from those who are permitted to walk
among good society.”

“It is as Ardra says. In addition, if I do as you ask, Gwen,
Ruonail will be hunted down along with Narfrom, and when caught, as he surely
will be, his head will be severed from his body and piked on the fortress wall
for all to see and revile.”

Within the shadows of her white hood, Ardra’s face looked
ivory pale. Her lips trembled.

“I’m so sorry,” Gwen said. Her stomach churned a bit at the
grisly image Vad painted.

“We will do as we planned.” Vad swept an arm out for Ardra
to continue leading them forward.

“What did ‘we’ plan?” Gwen looked from Vad’s face to
Ardra’s. Neither spoke. Whatever their plans, she was not privy to them. “Let
me guess. You two have decided to solve this little maiden problem quietly so
no one knows of anyone’s treachery. Vad returns the maidens safely, and the
councilors won’t say a word because it would cause them shame and the loss of
their arm rings. Ruonail isn’t going to complain or his crime is revealed. The
only wild card is Narfrom.”

Gwen watched Vad and Ardra communicate with another silent
glance. She felt like the proverbial third wheel. She also felt a chill deep
within her that had nothing to do with ancient stone or vast fields of ice.
“You have to listen to me.” She grabbed Vad’s belt and hauled him around until
he was facing her. “I have this terrible feeling, deep inside here.” She
touched her chest. “I just know the changing color of your knife means
something awful is going to happen. We have to leave—now.”

Ardra wrung her hands. “I beg of you, Vad. Do not pay her
any heed. I…the maidens need you.”

His expression softened at Ardra’s words, and he clasped her
hands to still their distraught motions. “Be at peace. I have pledged to do my
best to save the maidens.”

Ardra turned to Gwen. “Will you help us free the maidens and
prove that Narfrom has enchanted my father? If we can prove such a thing,
then—”

“Wait,” Gwen said. “First we were just going to rescue these
girls. Now we’re proving that Narfrom enchanted your father? That wasn’t in the
bargain.” Vad shifted his bows from his injured arm to the uninjured one. “I
see. So you two didn’t feel you had to consult me?”

“A slave?” Ardra said.

Gwen felt the heat rush into her face.
Useless one
moment, unconsulted the next
. “I am not a slave!”

Vad hoisted the two bows higher on his shoulder. “There is
no slavery beyond the ice fields, Ardra.” But Vad’s rebuke was mildly spoken,
said almost in an unthinking, automatic manner.

“So let me understand this.” Gwen could not let it go. “You two
were making decisions that involved life-and-death situations and didn’t feel
you needed to include me.” She spoke to both of them, but looked only at Vad.
He didn’t speak. His gaze met hers squarely. “It’s a trust issue, isn’t it? You
don’t trust me.”

“You withheld the dagger.”

She wanted to howl at the unfairness of it. “I didn’t know
you were being serious. How could I have known Tolemac really existed? It was
just a game to me.”

He dropped his bundles and clamped his hands on her
shoulders. “This is not Ocean City. Peace or not, there is little love lost
between Tolemac and the Selaw. Here, without arm rings, you are a slave. If
Ardra’s men had killed me and taken you, they’d have used you until they were
sated.” Ardra made a mew of protest. “Say nothing, Ardra; she must understand
her place here.” He returned his attention to Gwen. His intent blue gaze held
her frozen in place. “You know I speak the truth. Wherever those men were
bound, if you had slowed them down, they would have killed you, but more likely
they would have seen what is apparent for all to see—a lush woman worth a hefty
purse of gold at the slave sales. If you protested your fate too loudly, they’d
have cut out your tongue. To mark you as sold they would have carved an
X
on your breast. A man can tell how many exchanges a slave has had by those
scars. The purity of your skin would have made your value immense.” She
trembled against his hands. “‘Tis not a game you are playing.”

Tears burned in her eyes. A huge lump that felt like undigested
taffy filled her throat. The picture he painted was as cold as the ice outside.
Yet it was not the prospect of some man’s mistreatment of her that hurt. It was
his lack of trust.

Abruptly Vad released her and shouldered his bows once
again. “It is time to move forward. Go with us, or not. Choose.”

“Come,” Ardra said, raising her torch and hastily lifting
the latch on an arched wooden door strapped in iron. In silence, they passed
through, Gwen last. Behind her, Ardra closed the door with a solid clunk of
metal that seemed like a death knell to Gwen.

Vad did not trust her, had not consulted her on his plans,
and worse, she had slept with him. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she
impatiently swiped them away with the back of her sleeve.
Think only about
those seven girls
, she chastised herself.
You don’t want a man’s…what?
Trust? Respect? Love?

Angry as she was, she found herself checking the handle of
his knife where it rested against his side. Was it her imagination that the
color had dulled? Was she just looking for excuses to avoid this confrontation
with Ruonail?

She didn’t know what it was she wanted—or thought—anymore.
But she did know what she didn’t want—her heart broken. “Funny,” she whispered
to herself, “this feels oddly like heartache.”

Vad felt sweat trickle down the center of his back. The
massive stone fortress above them seemed to press down on him. For a few yards
there was nothing save walls of solid rock—close, solid rock. Then another
arched wooden door, built for men much shorter than he, was before them.
Although smaller than the first door, it had huge straps with iron bolts and a
bar. Ardra lifted it and pulled open the door. Another corridor stretched
before them, lit with torches in iron brackets, obviously not a secret place.
An eddy of cold, musty air twisted about his legs.

He could hear the whisper of Gwen’s soft leather boots
behind him. Regret at her misery could not color his decisions. He certainly
regretted telling her of the stone’s ability to predict one’s health. The stone
was changed. Each time he honed the edge of the knife, he saw how the tones
were subtly altering. Perhaps Ardra’s healer would have what he needed to treat
his wound, but if not, he must push past the pain as he must push past Gwen’s
objections. Once committed to Ardra’s aid, he could not allow womanly feelings
or emotions to influence him.

From the moment of his being found abandoned on Nilrem’s
Hart Fell as a child, he’d been taught one thing only—to be a warrior. A man
devoted, heart and soul, to honor.

Now, faced with his own disgrace, he knew redemption could
come only if he proved himself worthy again. But that proof must wait until the
maidens were rescued. Truly women were a constant trial—from those of only
eight conjunctions to those who had lifemated.

Ardra turned and addressed them in a hesitant manner. He
must reassure her that he intended to help her in any way he could. Gwen’s
words had undermined Ardra’s stately confidence.

“Here,” Ardra said, “we begin to make our journey in secret.
There are many doors in the caves. Some are known, such as this one, and will
lead you straight into the upper reaches of the fortress. Follow me.” She led
the way along the stone corridor, pointing left and right to doors as she
passed them. “Some open to a wall of rock, some to twisting corridors that go
to blank walls, other caverns, or beautiful grottoes.”

“Why aren’t there any guards?” Gwen asked.

“Guards are unnecessary,” Ardra patiently explained. “If you
climb any steps, enter any room in the fortress, there are guards aplenty. Why
have them stand in a cold place, bored and alone?”

“Because someone might kidnap you and coerce you to take
them into the fortress? Say two people disguised as Blind Eye and Greasy Hair?”
Gwen suggested.

Ardra smiled. “I gave the men a signal. You need not know
it. It is a secret sign, and if I had not given it, you would be dead.”

“I see,” Gwen said, but Vad doubted she did. Still, he
thought it better she ask questions when in doubt than make a blunder later.

After several moments of heavy silence, Ardra continued.
“Once, in ancient times, men and women worshiped at the hot springs that flow
from the earth beneath the fortress. It was a privilege to bathe in the healing
waters. Now no one believes in the ancient gods or the water’s power, so only
my father and I know the ways of the labyrinth.”

“Are the waters still here?” Gwen asked. At Ardra’s nod, she
continued. “Maybe Vad could bathe his arm.” She spoke without her usual
confidence, almost hesitantly, he thought. Perhaps she feared being spurned
again.

“If it will offer you some measure of comfort, I will do
so,” he said. Then he became aware of a low, continuous rumble in the distance.
It penetrated the rough stone walls. He thought of a herd of dragons,
thundering to annihilate them. He liked a nest of dragons as little as he liked
a dark place.

“What’s that noise?” Gwen gave voice to his thoughts.

“The Eternal Falls,” Ardra said. “They spring from the very
rock and disappear into a bottomless pit.”

“Great. A bottomless pit. Is that where you cast your
worthless slaves?”

Vad gave a quick shake of the head when Ardra would have
issued a reprimand. He thought it best to ignore Gwen’s mutterings. He
recognized the sharp words as her way of dealing with fear or disappointment.
From then on, the thunder of the falls grew louder as they paced wordlessly
along corridors and through doors, twisting and turning in a dizzying maze.

The cavern in which Ardra finally stopped was as different
from the fortress entrance as night was from day. It contained four identical
doors. “Pick a door,” Ardra said, a touch of amusement in her voice.

Gwen pointed to the second door. Ardra swung it open to
reveal a blank stone wall. Again and again, Gwen pointed. Each time the door
revealed the same stark stone.

“What’s the trick?” he asked. “We are tired and do not need
a puzzle to solve.”

“Gee, your awareness training must be wearing off. You’re
getting testy,” Gwen said.

“Forgive me. I did not mean to trifle with you. Gwen chose
well the first time.” Ardra opened the second door very slowly this time. As
she did so, the stone wall behind it angled toward them. He ran his hand over
it. It was simply an inner door with a thin layer of stone attached to it. He
thought the ruse might not bear close scrutiny, but was effective for a quick
look.

Ardra interrupted his thoughts. “Each door has the same
inner door faced with stone, but the others lead to blank walls.” She lifted
her torch after securing the door, and they trudged after her into another
twisting corridor, this one sloping downward.

“Does this journey have an end?” he asked, then gasped. The
corridor opened into a large, circular cavern. In the light of Ardra’s waning
torch, he saw a many-colored room of ice. No, not ice. Sheer, almost
transparent stone. Quickly Ardra moved about the cavern, touching her torch to
others in brackets on the wall.