by Teri Barnett
Maere sucked in her breath and, before the Northman could react, slapped him soundly across the face. The stinging sound pierced the night air and silenced all of them. Grimnir shoved her to the ground, knocking the breath out of her.
“Enough!” Jorvik said. “Take her back to the camp.”
Grimnir nodded as Maere watched him intently, struggling to catch her breath. In one swift motion, the man reached down and yanked her to her feet.
Jorvik tucked his dagger into his belt. Then, with one movement, his fist connected with Grimnir’s jaw. Maere screamed as Grimnir struggled to keep his footing and still hold onto her. He steadied himself and eyed Jorvik.
“Now let us return to camp.” Jorvik said, looking pointedly at Grimnir. His hand rested once again on his weapon’s carved handle. “And if she escapes again, it is you I’ll hunt down, not her.”
Chapter 23
Dylan groaned as he rolled onto his back. He cracked opened his eyes and, as they focused on the ceiling of the grotto, he watched for a moment the play of sunlight against the craggy surface. It was morning and dew-scented air filled the small cave. He sat up and looked to his right. Maere wasn’t there. He pushed himself to his feet.
Finding his legs weak and wobbly, his head spinning, Dylan braced a hand against the wall to steady himself. He was as weak as a babe. He closed his eyes for a moment and focused on the task at hand—locating Maere. Slowly, his strength began to return, and his head cleared. Dylan opened his eyes again and looked about the small cave. Maere was nowhere to be found. She was gone!
He touched his index finger to the center of his forehead. Calm down. She may have just stepped outside to see to her privy. Dylan rubbed his jaw as he yawned. He froze. His beard was starting to thicken, not the stubble he would have expected after a night’s sleep. He raised both hands to his face and ran his fingertips over his cheeks. Sweet Danu. How long had he slept? By the feel of it, two or three days.
“Sir?” a woman’s voice called to him from beyond the grotto. “Are you about?”
“Maere? Is that you?” In four strides, he was at the opening. He rested a hand at each side of the cave entrance and leaned forward. “Maere?”
“She’s gone,” the voice said. A young woman with dark blonde hair stepped from the cover of the prayer bushes. She wiped at the tears streaking her cheeks. “I fear greatly for her.”
“Where is she?” Dylan lowered his hands and stepped out of the grotto. “And who are you?” He paused, recognition sweeping over him. “Wait. I know you. You were at the abbey, with Maere, in the chapel.”
“What you say is true.” The woman nodded and bowed her head slightly. “I am Seelie.”
Images of the fire filled Dylan’s mind along with memories of Morrigu and her interference. Maere’s recent disappearance smacked of the goddess’s meddling as well. “How is it you come to be here? Do you know what has happened to Maere?”
“I can guess.” Seelie folded her hands in front of her and stared at them while she spoke. “I was standing in the courtyard at Saint Columba’s when Maere’s uncle arrived. He said he’d come to claim her, he did.” She shuddered. “Strange choice of words, don’t you think?” Seelie looked at Dylan. “He had Vikings with him too. The priests denied the uncle entry and sent him on his way, but not before telling him Maere was no longer at the abbey. I ran away so I could warn my friend.” She narrowed her eyes. “Those Northmen pulled her from the cave and carried her off.”
So, it wasn’t Morrigu, but Eugis who was behind Maere’s vanishing. “What else do you know?”
Seelie straightened. “Only that I would have followed them and fought them all to save Maere if they hadn’t been on horseback and moving so quickly.” She pointed to a clearing in the tree line surrounding the cave. “They went through there.”
Despite two days and nights of sleeping, Dylan suddenly felt drained. How long would this game between him and Eugis go on? He already knew the answer, before the question was even fully formed in his mind. Until one of them had taken Maere and her power. At least the Vikings had traveled into the forest. He’d be able to ask the trees which path they’d taken. He turned his attention back to Seelie. “How did you find this place?”
“When I left the abbey, I prayed to the Lord for guidance, that I might find Maere. He sent a messenger to me, a large black bird, who guided me to this very spot.” Seelie made the sign of the cross over her breast. “A true miracle I witnessed.”
Dylan slammed his hand against the rock. Damn! So Morrigu is involved.
Seelie jumped. “Have I offended you in some way?”
“Not you.” Dylan’s expression darkened. “Another offends me in unimaginable ways.” He nodded. “How long have you been here?”
“A day and a half. I hid when the Vikings arrived and broke into the cave. After they left, I tried to wake you, but you would not be stirred, so I simply waited. I prayed you would soon awaken, that we might travel to rescue Maere.”
“Is there anything else you might know about Maere you can share?”
“Have I not been forthcoming? I’ve told you what I know.” Seelie glanced away.
“You know something more.” Dylan forced her to look at him. Her eyes met his and, for a brief moment, he ventured into their blue depths. “I can see it in you.”
Seelie tried to look away, but Dylan held her gaze. She sighed, resigning herself to telling the truth. “She’s not like us, sir. I was beaten and raped by the young monk Bertrand you saw at the chapel. I somehow found the strength to get to Maere. And when I did find her, I died in her arms.” Seelie closed her eyes in the remembering of that night. “She saved me, Dylan.” She looked at him. “She brought me back to life.”
Dylan released Seelie and turned away from her. This was beyond anything he’d been taught of those triple-blessed. Maere could bring back the dead? Was it a one-time occurrence, wrought of the anguish of watching her friend die? Or could she actually draw on the powers of the nether worlds and return those lost in death? Whatever it may be, Eugis must have found this out. It was no wonder he was still so intent on being the first to have her, the one to share her power.
He faced Seelie. “You need to return to the safety of the abbey. I’ll find Maere.”
“There is nothing for me there. The abbess is dead, perished in the fire. Those remaining believe me to be evil because of my friendship with Maere,” Seelie said. “I cannot return. I would go with you, that I might help Maere and give back a small amount of the help she so graciously granted me.”
“So be it, then, as long as you can keep up the pace.” Dylan turned and walked away, stopping just short of entering the grotto. Imprinted on the stone, as if left behind by a lightning strike, rested the image of a raven in flight.
“Morrigu.” Dylan placed his hand over the likeness. “This is not over, Goddess,” he whispered harshly. “I will find my betrothed. Then I will find you.”
“Where are you taking me?” Maere demanded. Already they had ridden for two days and her body protested at being made to ride again after only a short rest. Jorvik slid up behind her and grabbed the reins.
“Why do you keep asking? I cannot see what difference it makes to you,” he said, as he pulled the chestnut mare about.
Maere gritted her teeth. It took all of her self-control to keep from elbowing the man in the gut. She supposed it would do no good, though. He was twice her size and then some. “I would simply like to know where my fate lies.”
Jorvik chuckled. “I thought you Christians didn’t believe in fate, that you put all your faith into your god’s will.”
Maere turned slightly, surprised. “How do you know so much about us?”
“I’ve been to many monasteries in my time here.”
A gold ring on his right hand glinted in the morning sunlight and caught her attention. The metal was ornately fas
hioned and set with emeralds, a cross incised on the larger center stone. “So I see,” she said tightly.
Jorvik raised his hand and admired the ring. “Yes, priests might take a vow of poverty, but this monastery had many riches.” He lowered his hand. “The one who owned this had no use of it where he was going.”
Images of priests and nuns being hacked to death by this plague from the North filled her vision. Would she be killed too? Would she suffer the same fate as her brothers and sisters in Christ? Maere’s stomach lurched. Would she die at the hand of this menace same as her mother and father had all those years ago?
She clasped her hands together to steady their shaking, silently chanting an old matin prayer over and over, Lord, from the fury of the Northmen, protect us.
Maere looked deep inside herself for some last vestige of courage. If only she could believe in herself like Seelie believed in her, then she’d have the strength to face this man and not be intimidated by him. If only she could find the power again that possessed her when her friend was dying.
What was it about her these men wanted? First Dylan mac Connall took her from the abbey and then this Viking steals her from Dylan. Could it have something to do with the healing of Seelie? Maere shook off the thought. It made no sense. There was no way for them to know of it.
Then an idea came to her. Did she dare play it out? If these Northmen were as pagan and superstitious in their beliefs as she’d heard, it might just work. Perhaps she might even scare them into freeing her.
Maere cleared her throat. “I’ve seen you before,” she said, as casually as she could.
“You can’t have,” Jorvik replied. “Not before I captured you.”
“I tell you true. I saw you even before that.” She glanced back and caught his eye. “I’ve seen you many times.”
“And where would you have seen me?” He tightened his hold on her, his breath hot on her neck. He whispered in her ear, “For I would have surely remembered one as comely as you.”
Maere stiffened and swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “I dreamed of you, Viking. I dreamed your coming.”
“Impossible!” Jorvik thundered.
“Nay, not impossible. I saw you,” Maere insisted. “I saw you riding out of the mists of the forest and to the abbey. I saw you hovering near the edge of nightfall, a tall thin man—my uncle—at your side.” She turned her head and lightly touched the scar on his arm. “In my dreams, I saw her touch you. Here.”
Jorvik pulled up his steed. He grabbed Maere’s shoulders and twisted her to face him. “You lie!”
He was furious but his protest was in vain. Maere already saw in his eyes what she had hoped for: A trace of fear.
Chapter 24
Dylan gathered his things in the pilgrim’s grotto then hoisted his pack onto his shoulder. He stepped outside and stood in the fresh morning air, taking a deep breath to settle his thoughts. It was time to end this conflict with Eugis. It was time to claim Maere as his and his alone.
“How will we know where to go?” Seelie asked as she reached behind the petition bush and gathered the few belongings she’d brought with her.
Dylan didn’t respond. He walked the perimeter of the clearing around the cave, inspecting the paths that led to it. He stopped in front of one. “You say this is the one they took?”
Seelie nodded.
Dylan walked to the largest oak tree which stood on the edge of the forest, directly opposite the cave entry. He slowly rubbed his hands together, bowed his head, and said under his breath, “Show me, Grandfather Oak. Show me my betrothed.” Dylan leaned forward, placed his hands on the tree, and gently touched his forehead to the trunk. In a flash, the amber blood of the tree flowed through him and the history the oak had witnessed filled his thoughts. There were simple farmers carrying their goods, robberies, murders, lovers intertwined with each other, battles. It took some time to sort through it all, but Dylan finally found Maere there in the images.
In his vision, he saw the Norseman break the seal on the cave, enter, and leave in a northerly direction with a sleeping Maere. Dylan balled his hands into fists and dropped them to his side. Their home, Tintagel, was to the north. Eugis must have determined he’d take Maere there for safety. The Vikings were most likely meeting him thereabouts. He stepped back from the oak and whispered his thanks, offering blessings to the tree for a long life free from disease and the interference of man.
Dylan backed away and bumped into Seelie, knocking her to the ground. He turned and extended his hand to her. “Is there something you wanted?” he asked.
Seelie rose and shook the dirt from her brown homespun gown. “I wished to see what you were about.” She eyed him for a moment. “What were you doing? Maere said you were evil.” She took a step back. “Were you up to some kind of Devil’s magic?”
He smiled and shook his head. “You and Maere are very similar, do you know that?”
The young woman eyed him warily but didn’t reply.
“How I can explain this?” He leaned against the trunk. “Simply put, I was talking to the tree.”
“Talking to the tree?” Seelie took another step back.
Dylan nodded, smiling.
“And what did she say?”
“Well, he doesn’t talk, really. I simply saw what the tree saw. And that was—among other things—a group of Vikings taking Maere north of here.”
“But I saw them going west, not north. Perhaps the tree does not know for certain.”
Dylan laughed. “A moment ago, you thought me a demon for talking to a tree, now you think it might be giving me wrong information?” Very much like Maere indeed. “At first they moved along the path you indicated, but the tree can see farther than we can, given its great height, and saw them take a turn north.” He adjusted his pack. “Come, we’ve already lost too much time and I won’t lose another moment with this conversation.”
He entered the westerly path out of the clearing and took a quick look behind him. Seelie was standing there, rooted, staring.
“Either come or stay. I care not which you choose, but I won’t wait or slow down for you.” Dylan turned around and began walking again. He grinned when he heard the soft footfalls of Seelie, running to catch up with him.
“I tell you Eugis, he betrays you.”
“Those crazy Northmen have a strict code of honor, Goddess. It is said they never go back on their word.” Eugis ran his hand along her bare side, pausing on the soft curve of her waist before continuing down along her rounded hip.
“Unlike many an English mortal I’ve had the displeasure of knowing,” Morrigu said.
“You’re thinking of Dylan mac Connall, aren’t you?” He looked up at the stars. “What could have possibly attracted you to that young whelp?” He shook his head. “Particularly when there are more able and experienced men around.”
Morrigu stiffened. “‘Tis not your business, Eugis.” She rose from the bed of pine boughs they shared under the arc of clear night sky in a forest near Tintagel. “You are incapable of understanding, with that human mind of yours.”
Eugis rose up on one elbow. “Try me.”
The goddess turned around to face him, her eyes glowing red. Eugis opened his mouth to speak but when his eyes met hers, he thought better of it.
“I said no. I will not explain myself, nor my feelings, nor my actions to any man, be he god or mortal!”
Eugis rose to his knees and raised his hands, palms out in supplication. “Forgive me, Goddess. I only sought to offer you comfort.”
“I am the maiden, the mother, and the crone. I am the raven of death. The men of the battlefield fear me, crying out for their mothers when my form approaches. I have power beyond your ken and yet you seek to comfort me?” She snorted. “You don’t even possess the capacity to listen when I tell you there is treachery afoot in your hirelings.”
He bowed his head and clasped his hands together to still their shaking. “I meant no disrespect. I only spoke from my limited knowledge of the Vikings.” He dared a quick look at her face. “If you say there is a problem, then there must be a problem.” Eugis motioned toward the sky. “Just as surely as the stars shine.”
Morrigu’s glare melted into a smile, her lips red and glistening. “Jorvik has indeed turned against you. He rides away from here, away from this meeting place.”
Eugis cursed.
Morrigu allowed a small smile to cross her face. “I am pleased, then, that you will listen to me where the Norseman is concerned.”
“Of course,” Eugis said quietly. “I’d be a fool not to.”
“A fool indeed.” Morrigu approached him where he sat and lowered herself to his lap. She ran her hands through his thick graying hair, soothing him. When his eyes half closed, she grabbed a handful of hair and yanked his head back, hard. She leaned over him, her breath hot on his face, pleased to see fear in his eyes.
“Now that we have this little matter settled, perhaps you should prepare yourself to worship me again.” She relaxed her grip and urged him forward as she eased backward. “Worship me. And afterward you may seek the girl and your revenge against the tall Northman.” Morrigu smiled. She kissed Eugis, biting his lip and drawing blood. “And perhaps your revenge against Dylan mac Connall as well.”
Chapter 25
The Norsemen rode steadily along in the early morning light. The heavy clip clop of the horses’ hooves scattered sand and flattened water grass as the men neared the coast. In the distance, a horn sounded, its tone long and low. Two short blasts followed by one longer one. And again. Two short blasts, one long one. A second horn joined the monotonous chorus.