Foremost (The Lost Princesses Book 2)

by Jody Hedlund

  Chapter

  13

  Maribel

  I screamed.

  The creature was like nothing I’d ever seen before. It crawled on four stout legs, each foot containing extended claws that curled under, similar to Sheba’s talons. It had the long body of a lizard but was much larger, the size of a warhorse. Its scales appeared to blaze—a mixture of crimson and ebony down its spiked spine, which tapered to a whip-like tail.

  When the beast roared again, I cowered behind Edmund. It swung its enormous snout back and forth as though sniffing the air. A frill fringed with sharp barbs formed a fan around its head, making it appear bigger and even more terrifying.

  Near us, the two soldiers cloaked in black retreated slowly, their swords drawn but suspended in midair, their fear and shock mirroring my own. The creature, however, wasn’t the least intimidated by any of us. It continued into the cave and hissed, releasing a long, forked tongue like that of a snake and revealing dozens of jagged teeth.

  Its glassy eyes roved over us, and I wondered how much it could see. Then, with a flick, its tail lashed out and struck against the knight nearest to it. The tail, full of spikes, raked across the soldier’s legs, ripping open his breeches and flesh in one strike. The man screamed in agony and slumped to his knees.

  At the same instant, the other elite guard threw his dagger, aiming for the creature’s heart. The knife glanced off the hard layers of scales and clattered to the floor. The beast roared and lunged toward the second soldier, who already had his sword out and was crouched into battle position, ready to fight.

  Edmund released a yell and tossed his knife. I thought he was fighting with the soldiers against the beast, but his knife plunged into the back of King Ethelwulf’s elite guard, dropping him to the ground in a motionless heap.

  Even as the other injured soldier rose up and swung his sword, the creature wrenched its tail around again, slicing him so that he crumpled to the floor, this time lifeless.

  The beast snarled and raised its tail as though to flail Edmund.

  Edmund didn’t move but instead snarled back. For several endless, frightening seconds Edmund seemed to be arguing with the creature until finally it lowered its tail. It growled at both of us, revealing dagger-like teeth again.

  If it hoped to intimidate us, the tactic worked. I pressed against the wall, my heart thudding with a desperate urge to escape.

  “Wait, Maribel,” Edmund said in a calm tone.

  I froze. Would my movement cause the creature to strike at me with its tail or chase me? Where was Sheba when I needed her to dive in and carry me away?

  “The creature has a festering sore near its eye—a sliver of some kind. It will allow you to remove the shard and dress its wound.” Edmund spoke as if he’d carried on a friendly conversation with the beast rather than roaring and snarling at it for the past few minutes.

  “Remove a sliver?” My focus shifted to the reptile’s fierce face, its forked tongue protruding, its fangs visible even with its jaws closed. Near the left eye, I caught sight of a bubble of oozing flesh. “I cannot do it, Edmund. Please do not ask it of me.”

  “We need to show a measure of goodwill to the creature,” he continued in a level voice.

  I shook. I wasn’t sure I was capable of walking the dozen paces to the beast, even if I’d wanted to.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  “You know I do.”

  “Then you must help it with your healing touch. You’ll likely save us both if you do so.”

  If I had the power to save us, then I couldn’t show any more fear. Pushing down my terror, I swallowed hard before opening my medical bag and retrieving the pain-reducing poultice I’d concocted for Edmund’s wounds.

  I took three steps toward the injured beast before it hissed at me, nearly hitting me with its tongue. I stopped, remained motionless, and allowed it to sniff the air around me.

  Edmund growled low and long, drawing the attention of the creature. They went back and forth for several more minutes before falling silent. Edmund motioned me forward. “Go ahead. He will allow it.”

  “He does not appear happy about me in the least.” I had the feeling without Edmund’s presence, the creature would have sliced and killed me with his tail and added me to the pile of bodies he planned to eat for dinner.

  “He’ll suffer—possibly even die—if you do not tend him.”

  “Would that be so horrible?”

  “The labyrinth needs its protector.”

  I didn’t understand Edmund’s reasoning, but I’d do it for him because he wanted me to. That alone was reason enough. I took several more halting steps until I stood in front of the creature. The stench of its breath and body, like that of decaying flesh, nearly made me gag. But I breathed through my mouth and tried not to think about how close its teeth were and how it could easily snap off my head in one bite.

  I refrained from looking anywhere except the spot near its eye. Brown oozed from the wound and dripped steadily to the cave floor. I didn’t know the anatomy of this animal, but I suspected the sliver had festered for a long time and become putrid.

  Gripping what appeared to be a piece of an iron blade, I tugged at it. The creature growled again, baring its teeth and hissing. But I tried to ignore the danger just inches away and instead focused on what I needed to do. With a final quick yank, the shard came out.

  The creature roared and backed away. It shook its head and started to maneuver in an effort to turn itself around. Before it could slip beyond my grasp, I dug my fingers into the ointment and slathered it across the wound in spite of the rusty blood that trickled over my fingers.

  The soothing properties of the ointment must have eased the creature’s discomfort just a little, for it ceased its thrashing. Seizing the advantage, I pressed a rag against the site to staunch the flow, and again the beast stood still for me, almost better than some of my human patients.

  It sniffed the air around me and moved so close to my head I dared not stir, not even to breathe. Finally, with a soft snort, it took a step back. I tried to maintain my grip upon the beast, but it retreated out of reach.

  The creature raised its snout and seemed to assess both Edmund and me, as though trying to decide who we were and what we were doing there. Then it released a guttural growl, one that was certainly not friendly and made the hairs on my arms stand on end.

  Edmund responded with a low growl, while encircling my arm and slowly towing me until I was standing behind him.

  The creature turned away from us and sniffed the body of one of the fallen soldiers, its tongue flickering in and out. It then moved toward the two Edmund had killed earlier. With the beast’s attention elsewhere, Edmund gathered his weapons and our belongings.

  “We need to go,” he whispered, picking up one of the torches still flaming where it lay on the ground by the entrance. With his other hand, he grasped mine and tugged me out of the cavern.

  We fled into the winding tunnel, the leather soles of our boots slapping hard against the stone as we ran. When we reached a branch, we stopped so Edmund could consult the map, but then we ran again. And again. The running and stopping seemed endless. I didn’t know if we were trying to put as much distance between ourselves and the creature as possible, or if Edmund had other reasons for the speed with which we traveled. Whatever the case, I didn’t question him. I was too winded and tired to do anything but stumble along with him.

  Finally, Edmund halted and leaned against the tunnel wall. His face was pale and his breathing as labored as mine. “We’ve reached the edge of the map. We must take one tunnel inward and pray that it loops back around here.”

  I studied the area of the map he indicated with his finger. We’d crossed exactly half of the bottom part of the maze. Although we were still in the outer region of the labyrinth, we’d arrived at a tunnel that led into a piece of the map we didn’t have.

  I drew in a deep breath, trying to bring air into my lungs. “If anyone can do
it, Edmund, you can.”

  His expression was grave as he studied our map intently, peered into both tunnels, smelled the air, and then started down one of them. He explored more cautiously now, his pace slower, the torch held high. He halted more frequently to study every detail of our surroundings—the dust, mold, trickle of water on some of the walls, even the direction the fire flickered on the torch.

  I sensed danger all around, guessing the engraved block letters on the various branches of tunnels we passed signified additional clues that would lead further into the maze. A part of me longed to explore deeper and locate the treasure so that I’d have something valuable to bring to Queen Adelaide Constance.

  But every time I mentioned investigating one of the other passageways, Edmund insisted on sticking to the path he hoped would wind around and lead us back to the outer rim. As we passed by caverns stacked with additional bones, I tried not to think about ending up in one of those piles and kept as close to Edmund as possible.

  Although Edmund didn’t complain about his pain, his limp grew more pronounced, until finally he stumbled and almost fell.

  I caught his arm. “Let me clean and tend your wounds again.”

  He shook his head. “No, I can’t rest until we cross back into the section of our map.” The waning torchlight illuminated the paleness of his face and the dark circles under his eyes.

  “You are exhausted.”

  Without giving me a chance to protest further, he started forward again, this time faster. “We’re almost there. I can feel it.”

  I appreciated his optimism and his belief that we would reach the destination, but I feared he was taxing himself and wouldn’t endure much longer. When he halted a short while later, his shoulders slumped, and he sank to the floor.

  “We’re back in the outer rim,” he said wearily but with the hint of a relieved smile.

  I dropped next to him and began to pull out medicinal supplies. As he studied the map, I cleaned his wounds and reapplied ointment. He traced the remainder of our route, which on paper didn’t appear far. But in reality, with all the winding and backtracking, we still had a lengthy trek.

  He didn’t sit long before pushing himself to his feet, disregarding my instructions to rest. From the worry in his eyes as he glanced at the way we’d come, I guessed he was concerned about the creature chasing after us. The thought of facing the beast again was enough to push me forward.

  As before, we made our way carefully along as Edmund consulted the map at every turn. At last, when the tunnel forked into three branches, Edmund halted. “We’re here.”

  “God be praised.” I sagged against the wall, and tears stung my eyes. I lifted up gratitude for both God’s help as well as Edmund’s ability to guide us in the right direction in a labyrinth that had been designed to confuse, trap, and lead people astray.

  Edmund eyed the tunnels. “Let’s pray that beyond one of these passageways there really is another opening.”

  I whispered a silent prayer, not wanting to imagine what we’d do if we couldn’t escape through an eastern entrance. I couldn’t bear the thought of having to traverse the passageways again, especially with that creature searching for us.

  Edmund tested the three tunnels as he had when we’d entered the labyrinth and then decided to veer to the right. After lighting another torch for me, he motioned for me to stay where I was.

  “Wait here for me,” he warned.

  “If you will be safe, surely I shall be too.”

  “No, Maribel. I want you to wait this time.”

  I sighed and watched his back until he disappeared around a bend. He was only trying to protect me. But we needed to remain together.

  “Shall I come now?” I called after him.

  The echo of a crack was followed by the rumble of what sounded like an avalanche of falling rocks.

  “Edmund?”

  The rushing of stone turned into a crumbling that tapered away to silence.

  “Edmund?” I called again, then waited for several heartbeats. “Answer me, Edmund!”

  When no response came, I lurched forward, my heart thudding against my chest. As a plume of dust billowed around me, panic hastened my steps. I turned the bend and stopped at the sight that met me. Edmund lay sprawled on the path. Behind him, an enormous pile of stones blocked the tunnel. The dust still wafted around the heap, and small rocks continued to cascade down.

  I rushed to Edmund and fell to my knees. From the backside, I could see no damage. Gently, I rolled him over and ran my hands down his torso, legs, and arms, assessing for any broken bones. Other than scratches on his hands and face, I didn’t think he’d sustained any injuries. I skimmed my fingers over his head, his hair feathery-soft beneath my touch. At an egg-sized lump on his temple, I realized he’d probably been hit in the head with a falling rock.

  At the pressure of my hand against the swelling, he released a low moan but didn’t open his eyes. I only had to probe it a moment to know he’d be fine. He’d been knocked unconscious but hadn’t sustained any serious wounds and would rouse soon enough.

  I glanced at the avalanche that could have buried him alive—likely had been intended to trap and kill anyone who attempted to pass.

  Relief swelled in my throat. The emotion was so strong it pushed out a sob before I could contain it. Giving way to the rush, I threw my arms over him, buried my face into his chest, and allowed more sobs to escape. My body shook with the realization of how close I’d come to losing him. He’d almost died, and the thought of life without him made the tears flow even faster.

  “Oh, Edmund,” I whispered against him. “I cannot live without you.”

  As soon as the words were out, I knew from the core of my being they were true. Edmund was woven into the fabric of my life, so tightly and so thoroughly I couldn’t imagine going on without him.

  He was not only my best friend, he was my everything—the closest to family and safety and anything good I’d ever had.

  Beneath me, he stirred. I started to push up, but his arms slipped around me before I could move away. As though sensing how close he’d come to death, his grip was tight, pressing me to himself in an almost desperate hold.

  I clung to him in return. For a long minute, we lay that way, our chests rising and falling together, our relief mingling with each breath. When I finally released him, his arms loosened, but only a little, enough that I lifted my head and met his gaze.

  “I thought I lost you,” I whispered. Raising a hand to his face, I cupped his cheek and bent down to place a kiss upon his forehead.

  At that moment, he arched upward so his mouth collided with mine.

  I was unprepared for the connection. The heat and the pressure of his mouth stole my breath with a gasp. When his lips moved to secure mine more firmly, my heart ceased its beating, and I nearly swooned at his touch.

  At the same instant, our lips melded, one of his hands slid to the base of my neck, turning my head just slightly so that our mouths fused again in another dip of warmth.

  I’d never experienced anything so pleasurable before, and my heart swelled with a cascade of feelings I couldn’t name. All I could think about was Edmund, how much I liked being in his arms, and how I never wanted the kiss to end.

  But with a moan, he broke away. “I’m sorry, Maribel,” he said between gasps. “I beg your forgiveness—”

  I cut him off by bending down and brushing my lips over his again. The moment I did, he captured my mouth in another kiss, one full of the same passion, as if it could somehow save us.

  Once more Edmund ended the kiss, this time abruptly. He sat up, scrambled away from me, and quickly stood, grabbing the wall to keep from toppling over.

  “Careful. You injured your head.” I was surprised by how breathless I sounded. I pushed to my feet and realized I was wobbly too. My legs were weak and my body strangely weightless.

  He leaned his forehead against the wall and closed his eyes. His profile was anguished, his lips pressed tog
ether, his brows knit. I wasn’t sure what was happening between us, what those kisses meant, but I did know Edmund was more important to me than anything else. I didn’t want him to hurt, didn’t want him to suffer in any way.

  Tentatively, I touched his back. His muscles rippled beneath my hand, and I was suddenly aware of the powerful build of his body in a way I hadn’t been before. I was surprised and even slightly disappointed when he pulled away.

  “Does your head hurt?” I asked, lifting the flap on my medical bag. “My Saint-John’s wort tonic will help ease the discomfort.”

  He didn’t respond for a moment and seemed to be waging an internal war.

  I pulled out the tiny vial and uncorked it. “Here. Take a few drops.”

  “No, Maribel,” he said in a strangled voice. “My head is fine. But my conscience isn’t. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

  At the mention of our passion, I twisted at the vial with a strange sense of embarrassment. Our kisses had seemed a natural outlet for the emotions of the moment—relief, gratefulness, and even deep concern for one another. But had we been wrong to engage in the kisses?

  Edmund apparently believed so. Had I been incorrect to assume he had feelings for me? That his kiss had been the signal of his affection? “Do you not care about me, then?”

  His eyes met mine, tortured and yet filled with warmth that soothed my worries. “I care about you more than you know.” His voice was low and raw, and his words sent tingles through my body, making me long to draw close to him again. “I fear, however, that kissing you will only coerce you into feelings you’re not ready to freely give in return.”

  Coerce me? “I do freely give you my feelings,” I said, not exactly sure what I was giving him except I knew I couldn’t live without him. That was clear.

  “Then you’re ready to forsake your plans to become a nun?”

  “Of course not,” I said. “Why would I . . .” Stumbling to a pause, I stared at him, starting to make sense of his reasoning. As a postulant on the verge of becoming a nun, I’d soon pledge myself to Christ as His bride, and in doing so, vow to remain celibate and refrain from the pleasures of the flesh. I’d need to live in purity of thought and body. Engaging with Edmund in any physical pleasure—including kissing—was inappropriate, perhaps even scandalous.