WYVERN (10 page)

She awakened in the blinding dark, struggling to breathe as a strong arm slowly crushed the air out of her. Behind her, Alaric twitched in his sleep, muttering incoherent words until he said, "Not yet, Beth. Not yet." He squeezed her harder.

"Alaric," she wheezed, praying he'd awaken before he suffocated her.

His strangle hold loosened immediately. "Beth?" His voice, sleepy and confused, tickled her ear.

Elsbeth stroked his arm, troubled by his sleeping words and the clutching desperation of his embrace. "You were dreaming. Go back to sleep."

He didn't protest, only tucked her more closely against him and slid into a restful slumber.

When she next woke, Alaric was already up and dressed. A small fire burned in one corner, and he tended a makeshift spit holding a roasted fowl.

"The birds are not as safe from me as you thought," he said with a smile. Fat drippings from the roasting bird popped and sizzled in the fire. "There's warm water for a quick bath there." He pointed to a tall ewer made of beaten gold, encrusted with sapphires. "After breakfast I'll take you back to the cavern."

She hastened to bathe, dress and eat, eager to see the egg again. They returned to the open-air chamber. An early morning mist hung in the air, shrouding the crevices and ledges in a damp, white veil. Elsbeth made her way to the nesting cave and peeked inside.

"You can go in. It's cool enough now." Alaric gave her a quick nod of encouragement.

The outer cavern was cold, but inside the nesting cave she felt warm enough to remove her heavy outer tunic and drape it over her arm. The egg had returned to its beryl shade. Elsbeth walked around it slowly, occasionally holding her hand out over the surface to feel its warmth. A mark, different from the brown specks mottling the shell, caught her eye. She crouched near the nest of rocks for a better look.

"Alaric," she said from her place near the egg's tip. "Come look at this. There are two small cracks here."

She barely had the words out before he was in the cave beside her. Unlike her, he didn't hesitate to put his hand against his shell, nor did his palm burn from the contact. The illusion of a man, she thought. It was brought home to her many times in small ways.

Alaric rose and made a thorough inspection, pointing out three more cracks. "She'll hatch very soon. Maybe tonight." He didn't look happy about it. His face had taken on a bleak cast.

An icy dread trickled down her back. "What's wrong?"

He gazed at her, eyes gone dark. "Beth, you can't come back here now, not even with my protection."

"Why not?"

He ran a caressing hand over the shell. "When wyvern young first hatch, they are sharp-eyed, fast and ravenous. Adults won't eat humans, but our young know no better. She'll smell your blood and see you only as prey. I can fend her off, but she'll only need one chance at you. And you'll die from it. I'll not risk it."

That dread lightened to disappointment. Elsbeth was drawn to the egg. It was life in the making, and this was Alaric's child. Still, she had no wish to be someone's first meal. If he felt it no longer safe, she'd do as he asked and stay away from the cavern. But his grave expression puzzled her.

Her unease returned full force. "There's something else, isn't there?"

Suddenly taciturn, he took her hand and kissed it. "Come," he said. "We must return to my cave."

"Alaric."

"My cave, Beth."

Elsbeth didn't argue. They made the short journey back to his lair in silence. A good thing, as she didn't think she could talk around the hard knot that had suddenly lodged in her throat.

She almost yelped in surprise when, reaching his lair, Alaric halted abruptly and pulled her into his arms. Taken aback by his quick actions, Elsbeth didn't immediately return his hard kiss. Like his sleeping embrace of the night before, the kiss tasted of desperation, of melancholy, of farewell. Her stomach twisted, even as she returned his ardor with her own.

Alaric buried one hand in her hair and used the other to strip her of her tunic and trousers. He took her against the wall, with her legs around his waist and his hands cupping her bottom. He'd given her only enough time to steady her legs and stumble to her pallet before he took her again.

Afterward, Elsbeth stroked his damp hair and took in her surroundings. The lair, with its soft light and the familiar scatter of her supplies and his treasure, had quickly become a second home to her. Some would be aghast at such a thought. Some would think her daft. Elsbeth Weaver, happy in the depths of haunted Maldoza with only a savage wyvern for company.

She knew, with a true instinct, what Alaric was about to tell her. Knew it in her bones and blood. A small part of her sighed in relief. But the greater part mourned. Their time was over.

His warm breath cascaded over her breasts. He kissed a gentle curve and spoke against her skin. "I release you from your bargain."

She said nothing, and he raised his head to look at her. "The egg will hatch, and these cliffs will be too dangerous for you to inhabit, even if I keep her confined to the cavern." He rose on his elbows, leaning over her so that he might see her better. His handsome face was sharp with a silent grief. "And your grandfather needs you, Beth. Almost as much as I do, but my time is not so limited."

Truth and necessity were pitiless companions. They demanded much and offered little in return. Elsbeth wanted to return to Angus, had fretted over her time away from him, wondering if he still lived or if Ireni had overseen his burial in the village cemetery. Still, she didn't want this too-brief time with Alaric to end. A life of loneliness and the lingering pain of missing him, was something she'd grown accustomed to over the years. No more. It would be so much harder a second time.

Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes. "Fate and family separate us once more."

Alaric kissed each tear as it fell. "You cannot stay."

"And you cannot leave."

The irony of those words, repeated eight years later, wasn't lost on her.

"Merciful or not, the gods have a poor humor." Alaric smiled, but a spark of anger kindled in his eyes. "I'll leave with my young in a few days." He gripped her shoulders with hard hands. "Wait for me. I will return. Don't leave Byderside, Beth. I'll search the world for you this time, but I'd rather find you safe in your village."

His insistence warmed her. His promise pushed back the emptiness blossoming within her. She even teased him a little.

"What if you choose to stay with your female wyvern?"

Alaric laughed, a touch of real amusement in the sound. "Then I best prepare for a bloody brawl. Damoshin is a fierce female, unwilling to share her lands. She'd challenge me if I dared stay more than an hour or so after returning our offspring to her." He kissed her lightly. "Remember, we do not bond with each other in that way."

Elsbeth ran her finger down his nose, stroked the curve of his cheekbone and the hard line of his jaw. "I'll wait, but confess I'm afraid. I want more than another handful of empty years, Alaric."

He captured her hand and kissed her knuckles. His voice was fierce, determined when he answered her. "Then you fear for nothing. I came back for you once. I'll not lose you again."

"If Angus were not so ill and your little one not so perilous, I'd insist you let me stay."

"There'd be no insisting, Beth. I wouldn't let you leave."

They didn't speak again, save for murmurs of encouragement and pleasure as Alaric took her again, this time leisurely. Afterward, they bathed each other with the tepid water remaining in the ewer. Elsbeth ran her cloth over Alaric's body with the reverence of a votary. She savored the feel of him, the curve of each muscle, the smoothness of his bronzed skin. Committed them to memory in case he did not return, and she had nothing more than an image undimmed by long years.

He helped her pack and dress in that same silence, as if by not speaking, time would slow and give them a few more hours together. Elsbeth was the one to break it first. She shouldered her pack. "I'm ready."

Alaric gave her a grim smile. "Then that makes one of us." He pulled her into his arms, heedless of the cumbersome pack. "I will fly you to the farmer's land, the one near Maldoza's base."

Elsbeth was tempted. Anything to prolong her time with him. But his obligations were as important as hers. Someone depended on him as well. "No. You need to be near your daughter. I've walked the cliffs twice now. I'll be fine." She stared at him, swallowing hard to hold back tears. "I love you. Be safe."

Alaric crushed her to him, kissed her as if he would draw her soul from her body and hoard it as he did his treasure. When they came up for air, his gray eyes were turbulent. The flush of passion graced his cheekbones. "Keep faith, Beth," he commanded in an unyielding voice. "Nothing will stop me from returning to you this time. Do you understand? Nothing."

She almost fell off the cliffs twice. The tears she'd held at bay when saying good-bye to Alaric, refused to be squelched any longer. He'd promised to return, and she believed him. But it didn't make their parting any easier. Elsbeth smeared the tears on her cheek and admonished herself.

"Foolish watering pot. No better than Anya Smith who cries over a broken fingernail."

Her self-reproach did the trick, and the tears dried. She smiled. Anya might be the silliest, most empty-headed twit in all of Byder county, but she at least had the sense to watch where she was going. Elsbeth slowed her descent down the main cliff path.

The sun was near its midday climb. The heat was stifling, relieved only by a slightly cooler breeze from the north. Elsbeth paused to enjoy its touch. Suddenly, she heard voices, familiar ones carried on the same breeze. She looked around for a place to hide and spotted a cleft in the rocks, one that offered an overhang by which she could view her fellow travelers without being seen.

Her heart jumped a beat, then sped up when she saw Malcolm trudging up the path, followed by his two toadies, Galen Horn and Jamie Knowles. They were heavily armed, weighted down with hand axes, sickles, crossbows, and quivers bristling with quarrels.

Elsbeth stifled an outraged gasp as they drew closer. All three sported pieces of Angus's dragon armor. They'd stolen Angus's prized armor! She kept still in her hiding place, but the desire to march out there and confront them was almost overpowering. How did they get the armor? And were Angus and Ireni all right? Such desire was tempered by fear and acknowledgement of her position. She was a woman alone on the cliffs. Matched against three armed men, there was no contest. Elsbeth shuddered to think what they'd do to her if they found her.

She leaned farther out on the ledge, hoping to hear more clearly what they said to each other. Malcolm cursed Galen, admonishing him. His words made her blanch.

"Keep quiet. We'll light one torch and keep one close at hand. If we trap it in a small cave, it won't have room to fight. A dozen poison arrows will take any beast down, even one that big."

Dear gods, they'd come to kill Alaric.
Her stomach plummeted to her feet.

Galen, a ferret of a man who feared his own shadow unless accompanied by a bully like Malcolm, spoke. "What if it breathes fire on us?" His voice shook.

"Hide behind that bit of dragon scale you took off old Angus's armor. And stay out of the way."

Jamie, far more intelligent than Galen but as easily led, gave Malcolm a sly look. "What about Elsbeth?"

Elsbeth recoiled in disgust at Malcolm's lecherous smile. "The beast has probably eaten her by now. I know I would have. Nice bit o' tart that one, but never learned her place."

"What if she's alive?"

"Then I'll teach her to mind that disrespectful tongue by shoving my cock in her mouth. No hunched old crone to protect her here in Maldoza."

The image his words elicited made Elsbeth want to vomit.

Galen licked his lips. "I'd like a go at her myself. All that nice red hair. I wonder if her cunt hair is the same color?"

He screeched when Malcolm suddenly rounded on him, a deadly skinning knife in his hand. "I'll be feeding you your own bollocks if you so much as touch her, Galen. I'll share the treasure, but the Weaver woman is mine." He turned to Jamie. "Same goes for you."

Jamie held up his hands in surrender. "Yours for the taking, mate. I don't like redheads."

Elsbeth, sick to her stomach at their conversation and lightheaded with fear for Alaric, eased her way back down the ledge as quietly as possible. Her mind raced. She couldn't stay here, hidden away while Malcolm and his cronies marched into Maldoza with their greed and poisoned arrows, ready to ambush Alaric.

If she left her hiding place, they'd spot her immediately. Elsbeth knew she could outrun Malcolm, but wasn't so sure about Galen or Jamie. Both were whip-thin men, light on their feet and likely fast. That is if they even bothered to try and catch her. They might just fire a bolt into her back and have done with it.

She could follow them from a distance, staying far enough back so they wouldn't hear or sense her behind them. If her luck held, they'd choose another tunnel to enter, and she could parallel them, following the track now familiar to her and warn Alaric of their coming.

The second option was truly her only one. Elsbeth crouched in the deep shadow of the crevice and said a silent prayer as the three men walked past her. They didn't slow or stop, oblivious to her presence. She trailed behind them, letting them almost out of her sight and staying close to the sheltering outcroppings jutting up from the path.

They kept a steady pace. Only once did Jamie slow and look back over his shoulder. Elsbeth froze behind a monolith of sparkling rock and hoped no else heard the thunder of her heartbeat. When they finally reached the caves, she sighed, relieved. Malcolm and his minions chose one of the larger caves to enter.

During her fortnight with Alaric, she'd learned to navigate some of the tunnels, but not all. Such an endeavor would require a lifetime. Anger and disgust welled up inside her. She prayed they got hopelessly lost, condemned by their own greed to die in Maldoza's black maze of corridors without food or water. Elsbeth had never been one to wish such a fate on anyone, but these three threatened the man she loved and the child he cherished.