by Teri Barnett
Maere hesitantly raised her free hand, suddenly overwhelmed with an urge to erase his sadness. His face was so beautiful when he smiled, if a man could be called beautiful. She wished him to smile again. Smile for her. Mother of God, why was she having such thoughts about this devil? She shook off the emotion and yanked back her hands. She looked away and rubbed her palms together.
Undaunted, Dylan continued, “I once knew a brave girl who stood up for herself when she was wronged. Where has that girl gone?” He touched her chin again and gently guided her eyes back to his. “I beg you, Maere. Set her free that I might enjoy her company once again.”
Maere stared at him for a moment, then stood and walked to the opening of the cave, crossing her arms about her. Dylan’s words spun around in her head, threatening to wipe the earth out from beneath her feet. What if his words were true? What if he did truly know her? But how could he? Her family was killed by the Vikings—that’s what she had always been told by Abbess Magrethe. They weren’t murdered by her uncle, as this man claimed. And she was no healer even if she did help Seelie. She was just a young woman content to join the order of sisters at St. Columba’s. Why wouldn’t he just let her be? Dear Lord, her head hurt. Thunder rumbled and lightning surged again. She took a step back and turned to face Dylan.
“I repeat: You know nothing of me. I am not who you described. If my father—pagan in his beliefs—ever held me for these gods and goddesses of yours to see, how would I know? If it happened as you described, I was just a newborn babe. It means nothing to me.” She sighed, every last bit of energy leaving her body. “My soul belongs to Jesus Christ and His church. That’s all that matters now, not the past. It’s to His service I wish to return.” She was so tired. “Why did you come, Dylan mac Connall? Why did you make me leave my home?”
“I would see a promise fulfilled,” he whispered.
Maere snapped her head up, her eyes wary. “What promise would that be?”
“Ah, Maere,” he said, sighing. “The promise I made to your father on that same night you were born. I swore to Manfred I would always care for you.”
Maere stepped closer to the fire and sat down, pulling her knees to her chest again. She stared hard at Dylan, measuring his words. Light flashed in her mind, brighter than the lightning still burning the sky, and in that moment she saw into his thoughts. But the visit was so brief she couldn’t make sense of it. “There’s a darker reason for your coming. I would know what it is.”
“You think you saw something just now, don’t you?” Guilt tugged at Dylan’s heart and he turned his face away. “‘Tis as I said.” He clenched his jaw and the muscle ticked ever so slightly. “There’s nothing more.”
“You lie, Dylan mac Connall.”
“You truly wish to know?” He grasped her upper arms, forcing her to look at him, and their eyes locked. “See it all, then.” Through his gaze he unleashed the years of hatred and sorrow and pain. He watched intently as his feelings entered Maere. He knew the moment she saw it all, the raw emotion striking out with the intensity of the storm raging outside. Maere gasped as if she had been struck. Dylan released his hold and turned his face away once more.
“Do you understand now?” he asked, his voice a rough whisper. “Is it evil you see in my heart? Or just the longing for retribution for so many years lost?”
“Sweet Mary, I don’t know how, but I see the pain of old wounds—not of the flesh, but of the soul.” Her heart broke for him and she reached out in his direction, her hand tingling with power as it had that night Seelie came to her. “I can help you. Let me help you.” For once, the offering to heal didn’t frighten her. It seemed so natural, as if she were born to it. A wave of familiarity swept over her like she had offered this service many times before.
“I seek no healing of this wound, Maere.” He pulled away from her. “At least not from you.”
She dropped her hand to her lap. His words stung her like no slap could. She took a deep breath and pushed away the hurt, allowing anger to replace it. “Would you refuse healing to give your life for vengeance, then?” she demanded. “Is that all that exists for you?”
“Aye. I would. And it is.”
Maere searched his eyes, seeing he would have none of her charity, that he regretted letting her inside his mind. An uncomfortable mixture of sadness and dread welled inside her. “Then tell me true, sir. Do you mean to give my life as well?”
Chapter 19
The wildness of the storm subsided, the rumble of thunder and flashes of lightning died away. The night was quiet now, except for the subtle pinging of leftover raindrops outside the grotto.
Maere rested near the fire, in that delicate place between wakefulness and slumber, considering Dylan’s words. Yes. He would sacrifice her, so great was his need for vengeance. She had seen and felt his pain and anger but had also felt his resistance to healing.
Perhaps it was her refusal to believe his words about her past that angered him. But the notion of pagans, gods, and goddesses were just too foreign to her mind for easy acceptance. Dear Lord, but her life had taken so many twists and turns in the last few days she doubted it would ever be right again. And how could it be? She had been wrenched from the only home she’d ever known by this complicated man who could be gentle and teasing one moment and then dark and brooding the next.
She sighed and her eyes eased open. Dylan slept opposite her, huddled near the smoldering embers of the fire. He looked so peaceful in sleep. How ironic that her pain haunted her in her dreams while his was with him when he was awake. She grew groggy again, then the soft caress of sleep brushed Maere’s eyelids and they fluttered closed.
While she and Dylan rode on the wings of their dreams, a mist formed at the mouth of the grotto, its nebulous form shimmering with the moonlight. It drifted in through the opening, weaving its way to and fro, circling the sleeping pair. The vapor wafted over and around them in undulating currents. When Dylan shifted the mist halted. When his breath grew even, it moved again, spinning in a sparkling whirl. It rose to the ceiling, and dropped long tendrils to the earth, touching Maere and Dylan where they lay. As the two fell into a deeper, dreamless sleep, the vapor receded and left the cave, a soft feminine laugh echoing from its depths.
“Tell me what I desire to hear, Eugis,” Morrigu whispered from behind him.
Eugis turned his head ever so slightly, covering his surprise at the arrival of the goddess, and continued to warm his hands over the fire. Let her think he was not anxious, he reasoned to himself, she would then have less power over him.
Jorvik slowly rose from where he was crouched opposite Eugis, his hand on the hilt of his dagger. Morrigu smiled at the Northman, her eyes moving over his muscled, battle-hardened body in a long caress. They came to rest on his face, her silver eyes locking with his clear blue ones. Jorvik shivered with the intensity of her gaze.
“I see even you can feel desire, Viking,” she said with a smile.
Jorvik pulled his eyes away from the goddess’s and turned to Eugis. “I will seek the rynstr to cast her from our presence.” He turned on the ball of his foot to leave the camp.
Morrigu stepped in front of Eugis. The older man stood and faced her. “That is not the way I expect to be greeted,” she said, her full red lips drawn into a pout.
Panic quaked in the pit of Eugis’s stomach. Who knew what Morrigu was capable of if angered? “Wait, Jorvik,” he called out. “You do the goddess a disservice.”
“No Eugis, it is she who disservices me.” Jorvik spun back around. “We have our deities in the Northland and she is but one of their evil sisters. I know her kind.”
Morrigu approached the tall Viking, her eyes narrowed. “And what do you think you know of my kind?”
Jorvik snorted. “I know if I cut one of you, you will not bleed.” He pulled the dagger from its leather sheath and held it in front of him. “But I would take pleas
ure in it, just the same.” He lowered his knife and looked from the amused eyes of the goddess to the shocked eyes of Eugis.
“My father is a great warrior. My mother is a Valkyrie,” Jorvik said. “The gods and goddesses of Asgard looked with disfavor on their love. When I was born, I was left with my father and they were forever separated. All I carry as a remembrance of Aislinn is the ability to draw on the power of the Valkyries before going into battle.”
He leveled his gaze at Morrigu. “It is because of you and your kind that my father knows no happiness in this life. It is because of you and your kind that I was robbed of a mother. You have no honor in my eyes.” He turned away from them. “I follow my own path, away from the gods,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away.
Morrigu smirked. “Wherever did you find him?”
“Raiding monasteries along the coast. Plundering villages. Living an aimless existence.” Eugis shrugged. “Trying to escape his past, from the sound of it.”
“Sounds most interesting.” Morrigu laughed and touched the scar she had left on Eugis’s cheek.
“I suppose. Sad though, to live such an empty life.” Eugis rubbed his chin. “Enough of that. He doesn’t usually talk so much. I think I like him better when you don’t have him so vexed.”
Morrigu laughed and brushed her body against his. “Now, tell me what I long to hear.”
Eugis wrapped his long arms around her, twining his fingers through her blue-black hair. “You are so beautiful, my goddess.” He dropped to his knees and, with a light touch, his finger traced a circle around her navel. “I would worship you, if you’d allow me.” He gently kissed her stomach.
Morrigu cupped his chin and raised it so their eyes met. “First, I have news for you,” she whispered. “News of Maere.”
Eugis slowly rose, letting his tongue run the length of her torso as he did so. “Where is she?”
“In a grotto, a Christian shrine. A place that once belonged to my sister, Macha.” She all but spat the words. “In the old days, warriors would ride there to seek her blessing before going to battle. Now, these same people tie petitions to the bushes and pray to their saints at Macha’s sacred keep.” She looked at Eugis and the rage on her face began to fade. “She’s one of them. Maere has no ken of who or what she is. You left her at the convent too long. She wants to join those nuns at St. Columba’s.”
“A nun?” A low laugh rose from Eugis and rumbled past his lips. “Manfred and Rhea must be restless in their graves over this.” He shook his head. “I suppose ‘tis sad she recalls naught of the old ways.” His hand swept up the goddess’s well-curved side. “But it matters not.” His expression grew hard. “I’ll have her anyway. And her power.”
Morrigu’s pink tongue flicked over her lips and she smiled. Eugis pulled her roughly to him and his mouth claimed hers, then moved down her neck. “Tell me,” he whispered against her throat. “Where is Maere?”
“Not far.” Morrigu chuckled, a low throaty sound. She shoved Eugis to the ground. “A little over a day’s ride from here, still to the north.” She watched him closely. “Dylan mac Connall is with her.”
Eugis sucked in his breath. So, it was Fox’s son who had stolen the girl away from him. “I suspected as much.” He shrugged. “No matter. It will be my pleasure to let him watch me take Maere away from him once again. Then I’ll kill him. Perhaps I’ll kill Maere too. Or leave her for the nuns.”
“You have said what I wanted to hear, Eugis.” The goddess smiled.
Eugis rose up slightly from where he lay on the earth, pulled his woolen tunic over his head, and tossed it aside. He held out his hand and Morrigu slipped hers into his. “Come, Goddess. You bring me great news and I would worship you, just as you deserve.”
“And so you shall.” Morrigu lowered herself onto him until their naked forms merged. “You should know I’ve insured against them leaving the grotto with a sleeping spell.” She smiled and began to move against him. “And I’ve sealed the cave against intruders. Anyone looking in will think it empty and be compelled to leave. Send that tall Northman in the morning to retrieve the girl.” She groaned with the thought of the Viking. “He dislikes my brothers and sisters so much that I’ve decided to set a test for him.”
“Should I be jealous?” Eugis whispered against her throat before nibbling the tender flesh.
Morrigu kissed him roughly, biting his upper lip and drawing blood. “That would be your choice, wouldn’t it?”
Chapter 20
Jorvik and his men rode hard along the worn paths that led to the northern part of the isle. Eugis had roused them early, his words urgent, as he instructed them as to the task at hand. Only a day away, he’d said, was the young woman he sought. Asleep in a cave in the north region, she’d be easy to take.
Morrigu had been nowhere about, which was good as far as Jorvik was concerned, cursed goddess that she was. If he’d known one of them was involved, he’d never have accepted the work Eugis offered. Jorvik and his men had plenty to do raiding along the coast, storming the monasteries. Eugis lured them inland with the promise of something different, a diversion for Jorvik’s weary men, but now he was regretting the decision.
In spite of his misgivings, Jorvik was compelled to stay true to his word and finish the task. Though a man’s oath might not mean much to these southerners, where he came from it was binding. The gold was easy, too. Perhaps easier than taking the coastal Christian compounds, now that the monks were learning how to fight. Actually, it was the easiest payment they had ever come by—four pouches of gold just for the retrieval of a simple girl. Jorvik chided himself. He should know by now that nothing is as easy as it seems.
He shifted in the worn leather saddle as he pondered this deed. Jorvik knew little of Eugis’s plan, only that the girl had some sort of special ability Eugis hoped to gain. And she had to be kept virginal. Jorvik smiled to himself. Perhaps. It would, of course, depend on how comely she might be. He shrugged his cloak into place and put his hand over the gold and silver medallion which held it around him, a gift from his father in celebration of his entry to manhood. It’d been many months since he’d last seen Otto and he’d be happy when this task was complete and he could return to his base camp, to his father and his people.
As they rode, Jorvik’s thoughts drifted back to Morrigu. He knew nothing of these gods and goddesses in the southern worlds, but they all seemed to possess the same traits of his land. And they all seemed amused with playing their selfish games in the world of man. What cared Morrigu whether or not Eugis succeeded in his plan? She must have her own motives. He knew this in his bones.
But then, it could be Eugis only lusted for the goddess and hoped to gain nothing more than their sensual encounters. After all, a man would have to be dead not to notice her shapely body and welcoming mouth. Eugis likely considered himself blessed by Morrigu’s attentions. Jorvik snorted. The man was indeed a fool if he did.
The sun had risen and set over the cave where Dylan and Maere slept. Pilgrims came and went, unaware of the sleeping inhabitants. The pilgrims quietly left their simple offerings of bread or cider in the hope the patron saint, Cedric, would intercede on their behalf with the Christian God and they’d see their prayers answered.
One such pilgrim was lingering near the outside of the cave when the sound of horse hooves and men’s voices reached out from the dense forest and touched her ears. She quickly gathered her things and disappeared into the thicket.
As the Northmen neared their destination, they found their way blocked more than once by tree branches. One, long and thin, suddenly slapped Jorvik across the chest. Another grabbed at his horse.
“What goes on here?” he muttered as Asa rode up alongside him.
“This place is enchanted,” the rynstyr answered. He gestured at the path ahead of them. “Look at the trees. It’s as if they would prevent us from the task at hand.”
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br /> “Morrigu. She’s behind this.”
“I think not.” Asa looked around. “This reeks of magic, but not of that one. We should stop. I should cast the stones and find out what goes on here.”
Jorvik cursed as another branch bent down in front of him. “We will not stop.” He raised his sword high and swung it in a wide arc. The offending limb, severed, fell to the ground with a muffled thud, the scent of sap filling the air. He held his sword in front of him as he made his way forward. “I do not fear your tricks,” he shouted. “I will cut all of you if I must.” The trees slowly withdrew their branches and the Northmen continued unimpeded toward their destination.
Once at the edge of the woods, Jorvik spied the grotto. It was just as Morrigu had described it. The men dismounted and the group of five approached. An old man who had been resting near the petition bush took one look at the raiders and pushed himself to his feet. He hurried away, calling ancient curses behind him. Jorvik laughed. So much for the Christian conversion of these people: When faced with real trouble, they reverted to the old ways, calling on their so-called pagan gods for protection.
“Are you certain this is the right place?” asked Vala, one of the men, as he craned his neck to see into the cave from his mount. “I see no one in there.”
“This is the place.” Jorvik dismounted and walked toward the shrine. “I would bet that goddess of Eugis’s cast a spell so none could see the girl as she slept.” He approached the opening as he would an animal. Slowly, he extended his hand in front of him. It was like touching stone with a picture painted on it. Jorvik picked up a rock and tossed it at the scene. It bounced back at him. He shook his head. Blast Morrigu to Hel. Her goddess-hide was in need of some time in that underworld.
“Now what?” Asa asked.
“Yes, Jorvik, how are we getting in there?” another asked.