VirtualDesire (24 page)

Gwen detoured to the storage area to retrieve the basket
with the bottles of potion. She threw a couple of apples on top for Vad to eat.

Right before they lifted the tapestry to cross the great
hall, Gwen tried to make Vad listen to her once again.

“Remember how I told you where your name came from? Nicholas
Sandav. Remember who Sandav was?”

Vad made an impatient gesture.

“Make him listen, Ardra. In my world Sandav was a famous
warrior who survived one of our legendary ruler’s last battles—”

Vad nodded when Ardra raised a brow. “There is a legend in
Gwen’s place that tells of a warrior whom no man would engage, lest they harm a
messenger of the gods. She thinks I am somehow the embodiment of that warrior.”

“No. I think you are one of his descendants. But listen!”
She touched his bandaged arm. “You have to listen or this wound on your arm
might be the least of your worries. Another warrior survived along with Sandav.
His name was Morfran. And he didn’t survive because he was a great fighter, or
gorgeous like you. No. He lived because he was so ugly, so dark, no one would
fight him in case he was—”

“A messenger of evil,” Vad finished for her.

Gwen could only nod. Her fear was cold and deep. “This man
from my place, his name is Gary Morfran. He must be a descendant of this ugly
warrior. And he is evil in my world. He was accused of beating a woman nearly
to death. And remember, in this world he had a boy hanged!”

“But Narfrom is gone,” Ardra cried; “We need no longer fear
him.”

“Don’t you feel it? Narfrom may be gone, but that evil
feeling is still here. Maybe he came back in another spot or something. He
could be waiting around the corner.”

Vad still could not believe what his eyes had told him. But
he had seen a weapon such as Narfrom’s once, seen its power, known his bow and
arrows were useless if the man had decided to fire on any one of them.

“Narfrom is evil, as is Morfran,” Gwen continued. “In
legend, Morfran’s mother was the goddess of darkness. Her totem spirit was the
sow—”

Ardra reeled away, a hand to the wall, the other to her
stomach. “Nay. Nay.” Liah cowered away from her emotion.

“What is it?” Gwen ran to Ardra’ s side. Vad moved more
slowly, but it was into his arms that Ardra turned. She buried her face against
his bare chest.

A stab of jealousy twisted in Gwen’s middle. She took Liah’s
hand and held it tightly. They did not need to lose her again.

Ardra raised a tearstained face to Vad. She spoke only for
him. “My mother died because she accused my father of having congress with one
of her trusted slaves. My father denied it, but my mother, thinking to force my
father’s confession, demanded that the woman be tested. My father agreed. He
did the testing himself. I remember my mother’s cold anger, the woman’s tears.
The slave died of her festering wound, cursing my mother. Within a few months,
my mother sickened and died. I know ‘twas the curse.”

“Wound? Festering? Died? What are you talking about?” Gwen
asked.

Vad held his bow out to Gwen, who took it automatically and
then wished she’d refused. It merely freed him to fold Ardra into a tighter
embrace. “A testing, Gwen, involves forcing the slave to hold a burning coal,
or the placing of a heated iron to her breast. If the wound festers, she is
evil. ‘Tis believed by the ignorant that the evil inside will seep out at the
wound site.”

The bow shook in her hand. “Oh, my God,” she whispered. “You
saved my life, Ardra.”

“It was nothing. Vad asked it, and I could not refuse him.”

Gwen looked at him. He shrugged and looked away. Had he
really cared about her fate, or had he simply felt a sense of responsibility
toward her?

Ardra continued, “My mother’s slave wandered in her fever,
as is so often true in such deaths, and I took my turn to nurse her. She called
on the goddess of darkness, begged us to sacrifice a sow for her. I had never
heard such things before, but they frightened me. I remember her every word.”

Gwen and Vad exchanged looks over her head. “Then we are all
connected somehow,” Gwen said. “Oh, why didn’t I remember this stuff when I
first heard his name?”

“I agree. Narfrom is evil,” Ardra said softly. “And if he
can command the powers of darkness, as the woman did in killing my mother, we
are all lost. Vad must find Narfrom and destroy him, or this will never end.”

“I do not believe in such nonsense.” Vad put Ardra gently
aside. “Only an evil man would take innocent maidens hostage, then threaten
their lives—that evil I will believe—the desire for power. The desire that
twists a man. But this other evil? The goddess of darkness being mother to some
ancient warrior named Morfran? It is all just legend.”

“Please listen, Vad.” Gwen blocked his way. “Narfrom
appeared and disappeared. That wasn’t some legend! I think there’s going to be
a battle. The light against the dark. Sandav against Morfran. Good versus evil.
I thought it before. And Narfrom may be gone for the moment, but I think the
battle is still to come.”

“Whatever omens you read in our names, or in your memories
of ancient legends, Narfrom has what he wanted. And if the map is not enough,
even now he may be on his way to gain the treasures. What need has he to bother
with me?” He turned and walked away.

Ardra held Gwen back from following Vad. “Enec was part of
this treachery? He conspired with Narfrom?�� Her voice quavered.

Gwen tried to soften the blow. “I think he was seduced by
the treasures.”

“Then it is best he is dead.” She wiped her eyes. “We must
take the little maiden to the others.”

“Hide the maidens somewhere. I don’t believe this is over,”
Gwen said, and before Ardra could protest, she ran after Vad. She reached his
side as he crossed the silent hall. She felt exposed, sure some guard would
jump out and challenge them. He was a tall, blond, half-naked target. “Where is
everyone?” she asked when she reached his side.

“It is tradition for a priest to offer prayers after the
funeral wine,” Vad said softly.

“Ardra’s going to take the child to the others. I asked her
to hide them.”

He nodded his approval, but did not slow his steps. “We will
depart at the sun-rising tomorrow. I may have only a dagger, but I am still going
to take it to the council.”

There was nothing she could say.

“If you are so afraid, go with Ardra and hide with the
maidens.” He leaned on his bow and impatiently thrust his braids behind one
ear.

“No.” She felt a cold breeze swirl about her ankles. “I
won’t leave you. What if Narfrom returns? I could help you.”

He smiled and shook his head. “That thought will make me
sleep at ease this night.”

“No smart answers,” she said, and hooked the heavy basket
over her arm.

Vad marveled at her. She had been so close to harm, and here
she was offering to defend
him
. Just as he knew his fever stemmed from a
tainted arrow tip, so he knew men often assured the results of a test by
dipping the iron rod in poison. He would wager Narfrom would have called for a
brand, not a hot coal, if Ruonail had allowed the test. If all Gwen said about
Narfrom was true, he could not have afforded to have someone who knew his
background talking to Ruonail or Ardra.

He was responsible for Gwen. That responsibility was not the
burden he expected. “Come. You are in need of a bath.”

They entered the lower labyrinth. Ardra caught up with them,
said she would hide the maidens at Gwen’s request, and led them to the corridor
from which they could find the steaming pool. “I must return above and speak to
my father,” she said. “He must provide guards tomorrow to protect the maidens
on their journey home. What will you do until the sun-rising?”

“Sleep,” Vad said.

Gwen shook her head. “I don’t think I’ll ever sleep easy
again. But it’s freezing down here. I’m going to change my clothes.”

Vad watched her walk away, the basket still clutched in her
hand. The hem of her gown was dirty; her hair was sticking up in the back.

She was beautiful.

Ardra interrupted his musings. “I will lodge the maidens in
a cavern I know by the grotto entrance, at least until the tides change. It is
dry, and it will take little time to move them into a boat from there. But the
tides will not change until the sun is overhead.” She lifted her necklace from
around her neck. “I want you to have this as a token of my thanks for saving
the maidens. It is the key to the labyrinth. You will always be welcome here.”

He held it in his hand and rubbed his thumb over the
well-polished center stone of amber. “I am honored.”

She bowed. “I will go above and see my father. Now that the
maidens are released, he must also offer some recompense to their fathers
to…encourage their silence. I will return when it is accomplished.”

Vad watched her go. He thought of his journey to Tolemac. It
was imperative he arrive before vintage month. Or perhaps it mattered not where
he went. What good was an empty dagger? What good was his life from this day
forward?

And yet he could think of nothing to do save complete his journey.

He dropped the bow and arrows to the ground and raked his
fingers through his hair. Every muscle in his body ached. For long moments, he
contemplated his next move. He plucked the one remaining torch from its bracket
and headed for the warm pool. Perhaps a long soak in the water would ease the
throbbing in his arm.

Then he admitted to himself he just wanted to find Gwen.

A thin, high scream echoed down the corridor from the
direction of the thundering falls.

He ran into the tunnels, then stopped. He consulted the
pendant, lifted his torch to be sure of the way, then carefully walked forward.
His torch cast demonic shadows on the wall. According to the pendant, the falls
were almost straight ahead. He stood still and listened. He heard nothing and
ran blindly.

His instincts led him well. A lone torch lit the mammoth
cavern of the falls. He skidded to a halt by the thundering waters, his heart
in his throat. He cast his torch to the ground to free his hands. It hissed and
extinguished itself in the slick moisture on the grotto floor.

Gwen stood with her back to the falls, her heels inches from
the abyss. Mist dampened her gown so it clung to her body and surrounded her in
a sparkling array, like transparent gems in the light of the one torch smoking
on the wall. A tall man held the tip of his sword to the center of her chest.

Enec
.

“Don’t come any closer, Vad,” she called. “He’ll kill you.”

“I told you he would come if you screamed.” Enec grinned. He
stood half-turned so he could keep an eye on both Gwen and Vad. “Shall I make
her scream again?” he asked Vad.

Vad shook his head. “Why are you not dead?” he asked softly.
Enec shifted the sword, and Gwen groaned. He froze.

“You left me to die. But a lovely Selaw woman found me and
nursed me.” Enec swung his gaze between Vad and Gwen. “Surely
you
can
understand the power of a kind woman’s succor? I finally made my way here and
found that the maidens were no longer prisoners.”

“And are soon to be in the bosom of their loving families.”
Vad noted the gauntness of Enec’s features. His eyes were almost burning flames
in his face. A tremor ran through the hand that held the sword.

“It is really you I want, Vad,” Enec said. “You ruined my
plans. Imagine my dismay when I discovered the fortress mourning my passing.
And imagine my surprise when two well-trussed guards described their captor. An
angel come to rescue the maidens! What lunacy. But then, here you are. An angel
I could not kill—last time. Now I think I can.”

Enec laughed and shifted the point of his sword over Gwen’s
breast. “Ruonail will regret this piece of business. The maidens will tattle to
their fathers, and Tolemac will send an avenging army, I suppose.”

As if he had forgotten Vad, Enec skimmed the flat of the
sword up and down Gwen’s stomach. Vad took a step. Enec jerked in his
direction. “Do not move, or I will kill her in your place.”

Vad froze, his eyes on the sword and the quick rise and fall
of Gwen’s breast. “What do you gain from her death?” he asked.

“Revenge. It is a petty emotion, but I had hoped to claim
Ardra. Whatever objections Ruonail might have had to our mating, Ardra would
have overcome them—if I had had my reward for taking the maidens.”

“What could possibly have swayed Ardra to mate with a man
such as you?” Vad asked.

“The Vial of Seduction, of course,” Enec answered softly.
“Now my plans are dashed to pieces.”

“You will never escape this labyrinth.”

“No?” He reached into his dirty tunic and brought out a
pendant just like Ardra’s. “Ruonail gave it to me long ago so I might come and go.”

“What of the guards?” Vad asked. “Did they not wonder at
your return from the dead?”

“They never saw me, not this night, nor any other time I
have come and gone on my errands. I much prefer a good climb to a boat ride,
and there are several ‘windows’ to choose from.”

Vad remembered how he and Gwen had watched the funeral
procession. Why had he not thought of it as an access point? Because he had
been stupid with fever and distracted by Gwen.

Gwen stood so close to oblivion. She had been brought here
by his carelessness. He studied Enec and the position of his sword—and Gwen.

“Do not move, my Ocean City warrior woman,” Vad warned her.
He could tell, as if she were whispering her plans in his ear, that she
intended to take action. “Allow me to deal with him.”

“Ah, yes, Vad, come deal with me,” Enec taunted. “But you
will fail. This time I will ignore your face. I will see only your Tolemac
heart and cut it out.”

Gwen’s body tensed at Enec’s words. Her eyes were wide.

Vad tried to communicate with her.
Do not move
, he
silently ordered her.

She gave an imperceptible shake of her head and shifted one
foot.

Then he saw it in her hand—an apple. Even from where he
stood he could see the whiteness of her knuckles and the smooth redness of the
apple’s skin.

Do not do it
, he silently begged. Behind her the
river flowed, the falls sent up their spray, the abyss yawned.

She lifted her hand. Enec turned to her. The apple hit his
temple. Instead of falling back, he lunged forward, into her. Her arms
windmilled slowly, impossibly slowly. Vad leaped for her, felt her hand,
gripped it. She clung to him, her fingers icy, wet, slipping.

“Vad,” she choked, and went over the edge. He held on. His
injured arm trembled with the effort to support her weight and maintain his
grip.

He sensed movement behind him. With a shout of pain, he
hauled her up, grabbed her gown by the back, and heaved her onto the slippery
edge.

Enec slashed at his belly with the sword. It swung in
vicious arcs. The man had no competence, but was a deadly threat nonetheless.
They slowly circled around the cavern, moving in and out of the torchlight, a
sword length apart.

With a glance over his shoulder to see where they were, to
see if Gwen was safe, Vad edged sideways, away from her, hands extended. He
wished desperately for his sword.

Vad timed the sword’s swing. Slash. One, two, three. Slash.
One, two, three.

Vad kicked out, connecting with Enec’s knee.

The sword flew from his hand, over the falls. For a moment
Enec stood poised on the edge, his arms outstretched. Then dropped backward.

Enec made no sound as he plunged into the abyss.

On the wall, the lone torch sputtered and died.

“Vad,” Gwen whispered in the darkness. “Where are you? Find
me. I don’t know where you are…where the edge is.”

“Do not move,” he said. “I will come for you.” He felt as if
someone had pulled a black cloth across his face. The mist touched his skin
like fingers.
Close your eyes and see,
he said to himself.
Imagine
where she is.
He put out his hand and took cautious steps toward her voice.

She went into his arms eagerly. He pulled her body against
him.

He edged away from the abyss, sliding his feet, feeling the
ground until his back came up against a wall. He leaned on it, Gwen in his
arms, and took a deep, shuddering breath.

She was still and silent except for the hitch of her breath.
He cupped her face and bent his head.

He found her mouth, the hot moistness of her lips and
tongue. Not seeing, he could only feel. Every inch of his skin was on fire. She
spread her hands on his shoulders. Flames flared under her touch. He groaned
deep in his throat, gave voice to all the pent-up need he felt for her. As he
had dreamed, her fingers plucked at the laces over his manhood. He swept his
hands down her back, cupped her buttocks in his palms.

Her fingers were gentle on him.

He wanted nothing of gentleness.

For long moments there was only his selfish need, her warm
hands, her mouth on his throat, and a flaming burning in his belly to have it
done.

She said his name. It sent a shiver of awareness through
him—awareness of where they were, who she was, and what they were doing. This
was no dream from which he could wake. There was no hypnoflora to confuse his
senses.

He wrapped his arms about her and lifted her high against
him. The warmth of her breasts cushioned his head as he leaned in to her. She
tasted sweet, her nipples hard as he dragged his teeth over them. With a
whispered question and her assent, he laid her down. She slid his breeches off
his hips as he lifted her gown.

“You are silk,” he said at her ear, sending a shiver of
sensation down her neck as he knelt, poised to sheathe himself as she so
desperately wanted. “A silken tie. And you have bound me to you.”

“Vad,” she said his name aloud. He moved inch by slow inch
into her, filling her. She thought her heart would burst. No air entered her
lungs; her heart no longer beat. There was nothing save him, that exquisite
point where they met.

She lifted her arms and embraced him, hung on, for a storm
broke over him.

It raged in silence, buffeting her with waves of sensation,
heat, flames of want. She twisted, gasped, cried out as his release triggered
hers. The cry echoed around them, prolonging the moment like the ripples of
aftershocks that ran through his body and hers in the wake of climax.

He shuddered in her arms. Heated breath stroked her neck.
Wet skin moved against wet skin. Hard muscle pressed on soft tissue. Thundering
heart met thundering heart.

She slept, fearing nothing in his arms, her legs entangled
with his. Long hours later, something woke her. It was so dark she couldn’t see
her fingers inches from her eyes. The mist of the falls blanketed them, but she
felt no cold. She touched his shoulder with her lips. How hot he was, how salty
his taste.

And she wanted to devour him. He shifted on her, and she
sensed that he was looking at her. What did he see in his mind’s eye? His hand
began a slow movement on her hip, a featherlight caress, mirrored by his mouth
as it traced the veins and arteries along her neck, her shoulder, along the inside
of her arm. It was almost as if he could feel the heat of her inflamed blood
and wanted to trace it to its source.