VirtualDesire (28 page)

“Ah. He has performed most admirably. As these fathers will
attest.” Tol smiled about the table. Seven heads nodded agreement. “He must be
endowed with more than just a beautiful face to cross the ice fields and
return. Surely, to keep his arm rings, he can be persuaded to show us how he
did it. If not, I imagine he will spend his days as a pleasure slave to a woman
whose mate is no longer capable of servicing her.”

Laughter broke out around the table.

How could Vad stand there so calmly? Gwen’s hands were
locked in painful fists at her sides. She wanted to choke someone.

“Speaking of servicing,” Samoht interjected, “are any of the
maidens soiled?” Every head turned in their direction.

The young girls crowded close to one another, Senga at the
center.

Vad answered. “Senga was attacked by her guard, but she
fought him valiantly and is still intact. She should be rewarded for her
bravery, equal to that of her esteemed older brother, who I know commands his
own company.”

“Hmmm,” Samoht said. “And the others? Untouched, are they?”

“By men? Aye. But they need the comfort of their mothers.”

“Take them away,” Samoht said to several of the sentries
standing by the tent flap. Ardra rose and shepherded the young maidens ahead of
her. “Nay,” Samoht barked. Everyone turned. “I wish Mistress Ardra to remain.”

Gwen made a decision to stand unobtrusively by Ardra’s side,
her eyes downcast. Perhaps she’d just be considered an invisible servant.

“What have you to say for yourself, Mistress Ardra of the
Fortress?”

She dropped back to her knees. Torchlight cast her hair in a
golden crown. “I humbly ask to return home.” Her voice trembled. “If it is as
Vad states, and my father is…gone, the people will need me. They are as loyal
to me as to my father. I ask if I might offer my allegiance to you, the Tolemac
council, that you will trust me to maintain the treaty.”

“Nonsense. A man must be appointed,” Tol said. “Then we can
get back to these mating plans for you.”

Samoht nodded. “Aye.” He pinched his lower lip and
contemplated the pleated ceiling of the tent. His gaze returned to Vad. “You
failed to bring Kered home,” he said.

Vad nodded, but his gaze was steady.

“He brought the dagger,” Tol said.

“Empty!” Samoht roared. He slammed a fist on the table.
“What use is an empty dagger?”

Tol ignored the outburst. “Forgetting the dagger for a
moment, I never understood what use Kered could be to us, Samoht. The man was
besotted with his slave, a lamentable folly to be sure, but hardly worth our
notice. If he wished to make a fool of himself, so be it.” Several heads nodded
in agreement, and Gwen felt a loosening of tension in the tent.

Then Samoht turned his eyes on those who were nodding.
Several froze. “You consider Kered’s desertion of his duties mere folly?”

“Kered was as brave a warrior as ever wore the Tolemac
colors,” Tol said softly. “He did all we asked and more. I begrudge him
nothing, especially as he so willingly gave Vad the dagger. He did give the
dagger willingly, did he not? He is not lying dead somewhere, a knife between
his shoulder blades?”

Everyone turned to Vad.

Vad nodded. “He is well. Indeed, as I said, Kered was as
ignorant of what the dagger contained as I was. He gave it with his blessing.”

“And so we come again to the empty dagger and the map that
is now in the hands of Ruonail’s partner, this Narfrom.”

Gwen held her breath. She felt as if a judge were about to
issue a sentence. Vad looked unconcerned, calm. What did he feel inside?

Tol continued. “I have loved and lost children. I believe I,
too, would have exchanged a piece of paper for a child.” The tension loosened
in Gwen’s chest. “It seems Kered was never out to harm Tolemac. Only you,
Samoht, seemed intent on his return and punishment. Perhaps you allowed your personal
enmity to cloud your judgment?”

“
This
man’s loyalty is still in question!” Samoht
said, rising from his place, his long robes swirling about his legs. “
You
may be sure there is nothing to Kered’s departure, but
I
choose to
believe otherwise. For all I know, Kered is here, the map in his hands, seeking
the treasure as we speak.”

“You go too far,” Vad said. Gwen saw his hand go to the hilt
of his knife. “I have stood here and heard myself and my friend maligned. If
you wish some proof of my loyalty, I can think of no other. You bade me return
with the dagger and I have. I cannot return the map. It is in the hands of a
man who will surely use it for ill. But at the time, I felt I had no choice.
You cast aspersions on my good name.”

“Your good name?” Samoht said with a sneer. “Who is your
family? How many generations back can you trace your roots?”

“Enough.” Tol slapped the table with his palm. “Let us put
him to another test.” At the word
test
, Gwen felt sweat break out on her
skin. “Have him draw what he remembers of the map, and then use it. Have him
obtain the treasures for us. If this other villain, Narfrom, has it, it is in
Vad’s interest to get there first.”

Gwen felt sick to her stomach. No, she thought, don’t ask
him to get the treasures.

“As for Ardra,” Tol said, “until we decide what is best for
the fortress, she should remain here. Perhaps as a reward for bringing us the
treasures, we could mate her to Vad.”

Samoht crossed his arms over his chest. “And should Vad
decide to keep the treasures for himself?”

“Everyone knows only a brave and honorable warrior can use
them. That makes such treachery pointless.”

A murmur of satisfaction swept the table.

Resuming his place at the table, Samoht held up his hands
for silence. “This is my decision. Should anyone wish to oppose me, he must do
so now. The seven councilors must step down for keeping silent about the
abductions. They will take their families back to their chiefdoms, and make
penance of two arm rings to the Tolemac council.” One man moaned and dropped
his head. “Their daughters of mating age will be given lifemates immediately.
Should their maidenheads prove to have been breached, they will be sold as
slaves. Mistress Ardra will remain in our custody until Vad obtains the
treasures. He has five sun-risings.”

“Five,” Ardra whispered. “Impossible.”

“You have something to say, Mistress Ardra of the Fortress?”
Samoht impaled her with a glare. Gwen felt its ice, as if he’d sent a winter
wind whipping through the tent.

“No, Esteemed Councilor.”

“Excellent.” Samoht held out the jeweled dagger. It was
passed from one councilor’s hand to another until it reached Vad. He took it.

“And if we send this warrior to gain the treasures, what
weapons do we grant him?” the man called Ranoc asked hesitantly, almost
apologetically.

“Weapons?” Samoht repeated.

“Aye. We do wish him to succeed, do we not?” Ranoc said.

“Tol, you have more experience in such matters. What weapons
should we grant this man?” Samoht asked.

The older man pursed his lips and stared at the ceiling. “We
have taken his sword,” he said finally, “so it is not possible to give him
another. Let him request one weapon to aid him in his hunt—save, of course, a
sword.”

Samoht threw his arms out in a deceptive gesture of
generosity. No kindness or concern lit his austere features. “Name your
weapon.”

Vad answered with little hesitation. “I have the use of a
sturdy bow, but could use a supply of arrows.”

Samoht nodded his head and raised his hand. The guard at the
tent flap disappeared and returned in a few moments to drop three arrows in a
clatter at Vad’s feet.

Three!
Three would never be enough. Gwen bit her
tongue to keep silent.

Vad did not blink or glance down. Any anxiety he felt at
being sent on a treasure hunt with few weapons was well concealed behind his
seventh-level awareness training.

“And…” Vad continued.

“And?” Samoht dropped his hand. “One weapon is all we will
grant you.”

“It is not another weapon I request, but two horses.”

Samoht nodded his head and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Vad shall deliver the treasures in five sun-risings. Is there any dissent?”

No one spoke. Gwen looked at Tol, who had seemed more
reasonable than the others. But Tol was picking his nails with his own dagger
point.

Vad bowed to the council and turned on his heel. When Ardra
tried to follow him from the tent, Samoht called her back with a sharp command.

Gwen’s mouth dried. She glanced about. No one was watching
her. A Tolemac guard picked up the three arrows and followed Vad. With her head
down, she ducked out of the tent. No voice called her back; no heavy hand fell
on her shoulder. She almost ran to stay close on Vad’s heels and avoid notice.

Once he was a few yards from the council tent, Vad turned
and took the arrows from the guard, barked an order for him to remain where he
was and stomped away.

Vad muttered all the way through the city of tents. He
stopped once, kicked a pot from the three-legged iron stand on which it sat by
a fire, grabbed it by its long handle, and thrust it into Gwen’s arms.

Gwen shook at the idea of a treasure hunt with only Vad’s
long knife and a handful of arrows. They stopped in an area on the outskirts of
the tents, where a rope cordoned off a section filled with horses and guarded
by a dozen men. Surely they would question her presence? Hanging back near a
tent, she glanced about. Every eye was on Vad as he examined horses and
selected two, and no one seemed to pay any attention to her, so she picked up a
leather pack lying on the ground. A quick peek told her it wasn’t a feed bag.

At the riverside, Vad tethered the horses to a low branch
and ordered Ardra’s men after their mistress. When they were gone, he kicked
dirt on the coals of the fire, tore the coverings from the seven bribery boxes,
stared at the contents, and swore. “Even in appeasement, the man was
treacherous.”

Dirt and stones spilled from the boxes as he threw them into
the river. “Mount up,” he ordered her.

“We can’t go now,” Gwen said. “You can hardly see your hand
in front of your face, it’s so overcast. There’s no moonlight.” Every muscle in
his body was tense with anger. “Get a good night’s sleep, and we’ll start when
the sun rises.”

“By the sword,” he swore, and disappeared into the shadows.

Gwen ran to the edge of their small camp, then stopped. He
was angry and disappointed, and probably felt betrayed on all sides. Maybe he
needed to let off some steam. After all, he had expected to get his sword back,
not go on an impossible treasure hunt.

But that left her alone with a fire that was almost out. She
did what she could to coax it to life, but succeeded only in extinguishing it
completely. Finally she admitted defeat and wrapped herself in a blanket.

What if Vad didn’t come back? What if she was abandoned
here? A rustle in the undergrowth reminded her that she was in an alien place.
What creatures were stirring? What became of women slaves who had no one to
look after them?

He wouldn’t abandon her, would he? Exhaustion tempted her to
lie down by the cold fire, but fear kept her sitting upright, peering into the trees
where Vad had disappeared.

“Come back, Vad,” she whispered.

Vad woke her by brushing a finger over her cheek. She
struggled up on one elbow, but could not see his face to gauge his temper.

“Come.” He offered his hand and pulled her to her feet. They
walked along the river for about half a mile, then stopped at a grassy bank.
The air was almost warm. Or was it his presence that warmed her inside?

The clouds had parted, and the Tolemac moons were high
overhead in a purple velvet and diamond-studded sky.

“Gwen?” She smiled up at him. He lifted her fingers to his
mouth. “Forgive my temper.” He turned her hand and touched her palm with his
lips.

“You’re not angry anymore?”

“I have had much time to think. Perhaps this is for the best.
I will obtain the treasures and demand the ultimate reward.”

“Ultimate reward?” She could barely talk. His tongue traced
a figure eight on her palm.

“Aye,” he whispered against her skin. “I shall ask that they
grant you at least one arm ring, that we might lifemate.”

“Arm ring?” She said the word, then gasped. He licked up her
wrist, over her pounding pulse. In moments he had her tunic over her head. A
breeze kissed her bare breasts as his mouth kissed her throat.

Her breeches slid easily down her hips and legs, snarled on
her crossgarters, but yielded to his knife.

He slashed the thongs and threw the thin strips of leather
to the dew-studded grass. She shivered, then grew hot. He peeled off his tunic
and dropped it. A liquid rush tore through her as he stripped his own breeches
and boots off.

Naked, aroused, he stood before her.

“The last time we made love,” she said softly, “was in total
darkness. This time I want to see your face. I want to watch every muscle
move.” She skimmed her fingers down the valley of his chest. His muscles leaped
beneath her fingertips. “I want to see the expressions on your face.” Then a
thought came to her, and she bit her lip and withdrew her hand. “Your
expressions will change, won’t they? You won’t hide what you feel from me with
your awareness training?”

“Sweet Gwen, I will hide nothing of my thoughts.” He took
her hands and placed them on the honed muscles of his chest.

“Thank you,” she said, and plucked at his nipples until they
were tight points. He bit his lip and groaned. She learned every valley and
ridge of his chest just as she had in the grotto, only this time she kept her
eyes on his face, a face now beautiful to her not because of nature’s kind
arrangement of bones and flesh, but because it truly was a window to how good
he was, how kind inside.

His eyes were black in the night, his hair a silver blaze
about his shoulders. The snap of a twig made her jerk her hands from his
stomach and turn.

“It is only a night creature, a very small one,” he said,
and wrapped his arms about her waist. The feel of his hard body, his arousal
nestled against her buttocks, made her groan in turn. He spread his hands over
her stomach and then slid them up to cup her breasts, much as Narfrom had. The
memory made her shiver, and she clutched Vad’s hands tightly to her. “Narfrom
touched me like this.”

His body went taut behind her. “I will kill him the next
time I see him.”

“It was to intimidate me; he felt nothing for me, but I want
to forget.” He gently caressed her, soothing her nipples and inflaming them at
the same time.

“I want my child to drink from your breast. I regret this
implant you have.”

So do I
, she said to herself. She turned in his arms
to see his face. “Make love to me, Vad,” she said, and locked her arms about
his neck.

He placed her on the ground and granted her wish. She was so
aware, every sense heightened by her intense need for him, that she imagined
she felt every ridge of his fingerprints as he traced her hip, her inner thigh.
She could not get enough of him. She stroked his back, his buttocks, cupped him
in her palm, and finally bent her head over him.

“Gwen.” He gasped and arched off the velvet grass. She
straddled his thighs and used both hands to measure him and bring him pleasure.
He groaned and bucked his hips. When she could tell he was at the limit of his
endurance, she sat back, massaged the long muscles of his thighs, and whispered
soothing words until he relaxed and fell still.

Then she began again, rubbing her hands in long strokes over
his body. Every nuance of his pleasure streaked across his face. He arched his
head back and moaned, and finally snatched her into his arms and flipped her
over. But he did not do as she expected and enter her; no, he did everything
she had, only much slower. He ran his tongue and hands from her shoulder to her
toes, touching and laving her with infinite patience.

“Now, please,” she said, and he slid up her body.

“Look at me,” he whispered against her mouth. She opened her
eyes and stared into his. “I love you, Gwen from Ocean City,” he said, and slid
into her.

She wrapped her legs about his hips and hung on for the ride
she knew was coming. “I love you, too.” His eyes closed; a groan tore from his
throat. She felt every inch of his hard, deep thrusts, each hot spurt as he came.
An answering hammer of blood and flare of heat coursed through her as she came
with him.

“Wake up,” he said at her ear.

She groaned.

“We have a moment or two before the sun rises and we must
go.”

“Uh,” she said as his hand moved to her inner thigh. “Go?”
She should know what he was talking about, but her brain was fried.

“Aye.”

She remembered now. He caressed her with a light touch, and
her body rose instantly to a fever pitch. She reached for him; he was more than
ready. “My noble warrior,” she teased as she encircled him.

He peeled her fingers away. “No. Not yet. I have waited
three long conjunctions to lie with the woman I desire, so I wish it to be
nothing but the best of pleasure for you. Let me prepare you.” He leaned over
her and kissed her nose.

She cupped his face and stared into his beautiful blue eyes.
“No, don’t prepare me. You prepared me three times last night, and if you do it
again I’ll have a coronary.”

“A coronary is bad?” He took her hands and stretched them
out to the sides.

She found her wrists pinned to the grass. The long length of
his body over hers, his gentle imprisonment of her hands, made her heart
thunder in her chest. He nudged her thighs apart with his knee, and she felt
the flame-hot heat of him.

With a soft moan, she answered him. “A coronary is very bad.
It means my heart will stop beating, from too much…joy. So no more preparation.
Please.” She gasped when he bent his head and his long hair skimmed her breast.
“Please. No preparation.” The words barely made it past her lips as his teeth
closed over her nipple.

“Just this?” he asked a moment later as he sheathed himself.

“Yes,” she cried out at the heat of him, the hard feel of
him inside her. She tightened her legs about his hips.

In the near-dawn, with the sky brightening each moment, she
could see the love in his gaze. “Free me,” she said, and he did.

Vad went down on one knee by the fire. He made a quick
sketch of the map. Gwen watched as he placed an eight-branched tree in the
center, then surrounded it with other symbols.

“Choose a peril,” he said with a gesture at the drawing.
Behind him, pale pink tinted the dawn sky. “Should I fight the sow, the hounds,
or the dragons?” he asked.

“Gee, none of the above,” she muttered. “The map reminds me
of an island.”

“Not an island, an area—the Forbidden Place. It is believed
that the perils surround the tree to protect the treasures buried there from
those who would seek them for the wrong purpose.”

“What’s a right purpose?” She rested her chin on her knees,
watching his shoulders ripple through another shrug, and sighed. They were
great shoulders.

“Nilrem chose the tree and the Forbidden Place as a
challenge to man’s honor. No one has succeeded in finding the treasures—or the
wisdom it is said will be gained in the bargain. Perhaps the treasures do not
really exist.”

“You didn’t mention this honor bit to Narfrom. He’s going to
be a bit put out if he finds the treasures and they don’t work. Do you know how
to find this eight-branched tree without the map?”

“I believe so. Certain items I remember on the map are known
places. Gog—”

“What’s gog?”

“Gog was a sleeping giant of legend. If you look for him
now, you will see but a steep mountain to be climbed. The Raven’s Ford, the
sacred spring, the evil bog, these are all known places. The former two were
sacred places of worship in the ancient times, and the latter is still believed
by many to harbor evil spirits.”

“By all means, try to avoid the evil spirits.”

He smiled. “The ignorant cling to their beliefs despite what
the priests might tell them.” He tapped the river ford. “The Ford of Ravens.
‘Tis said that if one sees a woman there, instead of ravens, she will show you
your death in the reflection of the water.”

“Marvelous,” Gwen said. “Avoid that place, too.”

“Would the pack of eight hounds be preferable?”

“Can’t you come up with any other numbers? Why not nine? Or
five? I’m sick of eight,” she said tartly. She tried to remain calm. How could
he speak so casually about this latest quest?

“You must be fatigued,” Vad said, then yawned and scratched
his belly.

Gwen felt her face flush red. “You’re not?”

“I slept. But I imagine the folk who guard the tents slept
little from all the yelling. A compliment to my prowess, I believe it was, all
your yelling.”

“I did not yell, or maybe just a little. Oh, stop. Please.”
She hid her face in her hands.

Vad loved looking at her. He now knew every hair on her
head, the shape of her ears, the taste of the soft skin behind them. To
distract himself from the thought of soft skin, he bit into one of their
remaining apples.

“Weren’t there piglets on the map? They sound
nonthreatening,” she said.

“Their sow is the size of three horses, each piglet the size
of one. Her milk is a burning acid, and the piglets suckle and spit the liquid
at intruders. If the piglets are male, they have razor-sharp tusks.”

“What an image.”

Gwen stared up at him, and he found himself mesmerized by
the depths of her dark eyes. He forced himself to think of perils instead of
seeking the peace of her embrace. Never had he known such contentment. For the
first time he understood Kered’s need for Maggie, understood how Kered had
given up all for the woman he loved. Under other circumstances, would Kered
have given Maggie up to protect her?

Vad hoped Gwen would understand what he must do.

“Other than deadly milk, is there anything else special
about the sow?”

“She has bristles about her snout that cause an itch so
terrible, you will die of it, your skin hanging in bloody tatters from your
scratching.”

“That’s more information than I need,” Gwen muttered. “What
about the hounds?”

Vad shrugged. “The hounds have fangs that drip poison. A
gash from their teeth will fester immediately. They are said to run more
quickly than the fastest horse and swim faster than a snake.”

“Then it will be the nest of dragons,” Gwen said, her voice
trembling.

He cast the apple core into the shrubbery. “Dragons spew
venomous spittle. It eats through the skin. Some people are not susceptible to
it; others die writhing in pain as the sores eat away their flesh.”

“I have a confession to make.” Her words were soft sounds,
scattering the images from his mind.

He went down on one knee by her and tucked several strands
of her hair behind her ear. “What? You desire me again?”

“Men. They think only of making love.”

But her smile belied the sharpness of her tone, and it was
not making love he was thinking of. No, he was thinking of her smallness and
vulnerability.

“I borrowed some stuff on our way here.” She handed him a
worn leather pack. “I hope you won’t be too angry with me.”

He looked inside and grinned. “Do you know what we have
here?”

Gwen watched him pull out a bundle of soft cloth. “What is
it? A weapon we can use?”

“Better than that—bread.” He unwrapped a loaf of bread, tore
off a piece, and handed it to her.

They ate. More time wasted.

“What will you do with the cooking stand?” she asked when he
was packing his horse for the journey.

Silently he held the iron handle and brought it down in a
harsh swipe. “A favorite weapon of women, it is said.”

“Used on the heads of their cheating lifemates, I presume.”
She shivered, the bread in her hand forgotten. “You’ll have to choose your own
peril. I can’t help you. They all sound so frightening. Before coming here, the
worst peril I’d ever faced was Mrs. Hill.”