by Teri Barnett
“You find me amusing?”
“Aye, girl. Again, you would threaten me. Perhaps you don’t recall I’m a Dyrrwed High Priest with magic of my own?”
“I recall you used your position to threaten and intimidate others to do your bidding against Dylan’s family and mine. That is the only magic you possess, the ability to control those less learned.” Maere looked away, her eyes watering. “Or those who would trust you.”
Eugis crouched near Maere and ran a finger along her cheek. When he reached her jaw, he cupped her chin with his palm and pulled her forward. “You forget something else I have.”
Maere struggled against his grip, but he held tight.
“What is her name? Seelie?” He watched intently. “Does it not matter to you what happens to her?”
Sweet Jesus. Panic ran up Maere’s spine. “What are you saying?”
“I know you’re not stupid. You understand well enough my intent.” He stood and pushed his graying hair out of his eyes. “Now then, I will take my leave. There’s much to prepare before our ceremony.” He bowed mockingly toward Maere, “‘Til tonight, my lady.” He turned and walked away.
As she watched Eugis leave, Maere forced thoughts of Seelie and Dylan from her mind, concentrating instead on the heat of her power. She worked to force it into something tangible she could use against her uncle, but it wouldn’t budge. Nothing.
Frustrated, Maere lay on her side and pulled a thin blanket up tight about her. If she was to be blessed with a gift, why couldn’t it have been something she could use whenever she wanted rather than finding it available only when least expected? Perhaps it was best this way—for if she could do as she pleased to whom she pleased, she’d most likely end up like her uncle. Or Morrigu.
Chapter 35
From the crest of a small hill, Dylan watched Eugis’s men as they moved to and fro. A small group stopped to talk, gesturing toward the west end of the camp. Dylan squinted against the glare of the setting sun in an attempt to see what they were pointing at, but he could only make out shadows against the bright rays. He sat back for a moment, catching his breath. He’d traveled fast and furious over the land, stopping only to check his path against the memory of the trees around him. Morrigu, in her raven form, had flown many miles quickly but it took him a full day of hard riding to finally reach Maere. And Eugis. He clenched his jaw. He’d send the man into bloody oblivion before it was all said and done.
Dylan moved slowly to his right, toward what appeared to be a clearing just beyond the stand of trees bordering the camp. By the time he’d reached the area, the sun was low on the horizon, a faint red glow tingeing the clouds above. But there was enough light for him to see where the men had pointed, and why they had been in a hurry.
The clearing held a large flat gray stone surrounded by stanchions of white rock. Wreaths of mistletoe hung from the stone pillars and a garland of oak branches was strung about the center stone. Seeing no one about, Dylan ventured into the middle of the circle and ran his hand over the flat stone. A carved spiral spun out from the middle and touched stylized carvings that created a border around the edge. The central spiral was stained. Dylan leaned closer and even in the near-darkness recognized it for what it was: blood.
A sacrificial altar. This is where Eugis would bring Maere. No, he corrected himself, where Eugis would try to bring Maere. Dylan would not allow for the possibility Eugis might still win after all these years.
A muffled sound from behind interrupted his thoughts. He turned quickly, but not in time to raise his arm against the blow coming down on him. The last thing Dylan saw was Eugis, smiling in the background, as he crumpled to the ground.
Alone in the dark, Maere huddled against the stone post she was strapped to, the warmth of the sun still radiating from it. Quietly, she watched the play of the fire as it danced and cast its colors against the night; the reaching and shifting of the flames was mesmerizing. Where she had only looked at fire in fear before, she now saw its beauty and awesome power. In truth, she believed part of the flame lived within her, left from when she’d walked through it to save Jorvik’s father and Sassa. If only that power would come forth, she could defeat Eugis. But what of Seelie? Knowing her uncle, he’d already given orders that if Maere harmed him, or tried to escape, her friend was to be killed on the spot.
She shifted, restless in mind and body, her thoughts a silent prayer sent on the wind to her betrothed. Dylan, stay away from this place. I can’t be responsible for your destruction too. We’ve seen too much death together. Please, if you can sense my words, stay away.
A tent flap on the other side of the fire flipped open and a short, sturdy man emerged. Maere couldn’t make out his features as he walked toward her but his hands alternately balled into fists then relaxed where they hung at his side.
He stopped in front of her. Maere looked up. “It’s time,” he said.
Maere glanced down at the ground for a moment, then at the full moon where it danced low in the sky. She took a deep breath. “Nimue.” The name of the moon goddess came out barely a whisper on her exhale. “If you are the last sight I see, I am grateful, for you are beautiful.”
The man shifted from one foot to the other. “Now.”
“Aye,” Maere replied. She rose to her feet. She held her bound hands out toward the soldier. “Cut my bindings.”
He took a step back. “I will not! You won’t work your magic against me!”
Maere sighed. “I seek only to face Eugis with some pride in place.”
“Your pride be damned. If you’re so powerful, release them yourself,” he said. “I’ll not be turned into some dark phouka who roams the night, stealing souls by one such as you.”
“Is that what you think I can do?” Maere cocked her head and looked the man in the eye. Yes, there was fear there. There was a time when no one feared her. The people of her village only loved her and welcomed her into their homes. “Believe what you will, then.”
The man grunted. He walked in a wide arc around her to cut loose the tether holding her to the stone. He grabbed the length of rope attached to Maere’s wrists and gave it a good jerk. She stumbled forward and fell to her knees. He laughed as he pulled her upright. “Maybe the stories about you aren’t true after all.” He took a step closer, his confidence growing. “Seelie tells me you saved her life. Is it true?”
Maere smelled sour mead on his breath. “Where is she? Is she safe?”
“For now.” The man grinned. “She’ll be kept alive until Eugis is through with you anyway, just so he can be sure you won’t try anything.”
“I gave him my word.” Maere bristled. “I said I’d not harm anyone as long as Seelie remained safe.”
His eyes glinted as they swept over Maere’s face and form. He gave her lead a rough pull. She stumbled again but kept her footing. “Maybe I’ll be asking your uncle for you when he’s had his fill.”
Anger swept through her. Men and their talk of taking her! The man gave the tether another jerk but she didn’t budge. He looked afraid again.
Power flowed from the soles of her feet into the ground, rooting her to the spot. She would survive this, she promised herself. Eugis would not steal her power. She would not allow it. The legends said there was a chance only a sharing took place, not that she completely lost her power. She straightened her spine. Yes, she would come through this, Eugis be damned. She stepped forward. “Lead me to this place. Now.” The man nodded and began walking, keeping his distance.
Sixty yards through the camp and into the forest, they entered the clearing. Maere stopped at the edge and looked around her. Candles placed all around cast tall, flickering shadows against the trees. Mistletoe wreaths decorated the stacked stone pillars, a grim reminder of the fate of her and Dylan’s kin at Eugis’s hand. The flat altar in the center had been draped with white linen cloth, so finely woven she could see a large spiral
carved into the stone surface beneath it.
A whimper pulled her attention to her left. There, bound tightly to a tree, was Seelie. Their eyes met. Maere willed strength and courage into her friend.
“I’m so sorry,” Seelie mouthed. Maere understood. She nodded slightly, a faint smile on her lips.
“Welcome, Maere,” Eugis said as he entered the clearing, his white priestly robes flowing about his thin body. “Come.” He opened his arms. “Come to me.”
Maere hung back, her resolve fading. Her breathing grew fast and shallow.
Eugis’s face was a dark shadow beneath the hood of his ceremonial cloak. “Bring him forward!” Two men stepped into the firelight, dragging an unconscious Dylan between them.
“What goes on here? Have you killed him?” Maere jerked at her bonds, held tight by Eugis’s man, until her wrists were bloody. “Let me go!” she cried out.
“Tie him up. There. At the foot of the altar,” Eugis said. “That should give him the best view.” He looked over at Maere. Her hair was wild and blood from her wrists stained the front of her tunic. She was a frightful sight. Didn’t matter. His plan was falling into place, even without Morrigu’s help, blast her goddess hide. Maere would soon be dead and he’d have her powers added to his own. They said at the abbey she could raise the dead. Too bad she wouldn’t be able to help herself that way.
Maere felt Eugis’s eyes on her. She dragged her gaze away from Dylan to him.
“What say you, niece? Shall we get started?”
Chapter 36
“Do I have a choice?”
“None whatsoever.”
“Then dispense with your false manners, Uncle, for I have had my fill of you and your game.”
Eugis smiled. “Ah, not yet, you haven’t. But soon.”
She looked up sharply. His eyes took on an unnatural glow—from the fire or his own evil, Maere couldn’t be certain. Eugis motioned to the man who held her tether. He nodded and pulled Maere forward, half-pulling, half-dragging her to the altar.
Eugis approached from the opposite side, his face still shadowed by his hood. He reached out one hand to Maere while with the other he drew an athame from the embroidered sash that bound his Dyrrwed robes.
“Give me your hand,” he said, the small knife raised.
Suddenly, Eugis’s followers emerged from the outer darkness and gathered into a circle outside the stone stanchions. Maere warily looked about. Some wore branches imitating the horns of the forest god. Some had oak leaves woven in their beards. All held the sacred mistletoe in their hands. Each also held a tall torch fashioned from a tree branch, the end wrapped with rags and dipped in oil. In silence, they touched their torches to the ceremonial bonfire, before taking their places. The smell of burning animal fat gagged her.
Just beyond the circle of men and fire were Seelie and Dylan. Her friend and her love, tied to an ancient and gnarled oak hanging like a canopy over them. Seelie’s face was drawn, as if she were holding her lips tightly together to keep from crying out.
Dylan was motionless, his head resting on his chest. Is he still breathing? Maere felt certain her own heart had stopped beating for an instant.
Eugis took a torch from one of his men and stepped up to the altar. “I call on the father, the brother, the great god of the forest,” Eugis said, raising the torch high.
Maere slowly turned to face him. His empty hand was still outstretched, waiting for hers. She met his eyes. “Let them go,” she said quietly.
“Give me your hand!”
“Let Seelie and Dylan go, and I will do whatever you ask of me.”
Eugis’s eyes narrowed. He gave the torch back to his man and strode over to Dylan. He slapped the unconsciousness man across the face. Dylan stirred. Eugis grabbed a handful of black hair and yanked Dylan’s head up.
“Maere?” Dylan’s voice was a ragged whisper.
In one swift movement, the sharp point of the ceremonial knife was piercing Dylan’s neck. Tiny drops of blood formed and glistened in the torchlight. Dylan grimaced.
“Stop it!” Maere said. “Harm him and you’ll get nothing from me.”
“I believe I’ll get everything from you. Perhaps even more,” Eugis said. He released Dylan’s head, wiping the thin blade on Dylan’s sleeve. The younger man dropped back into unconsciousness as Eugis returned to the altar. “When will you realize you are in no position to bargain, Maere?”
Eugis reached across the stone and grabbed her left hand. With a swift movement, he sliced across Maere’s palm. Shocked, Maere tried to pull her hand away, but Eugis was prepared, and held on tight. He sliced his own left palm and placed it on hers, mingling their blood. He smiled as it pooled on the altar, soaking the center of the cloth, radiating out along the spiral toward the edges.
Eugis whispered, “Our marriage bed.”
Maere’s cheeks grew hot. She looked over at Dylan. Sweet Mother, should he awaken . . . He cannot watch this.
“At the very least, have the decency to remove your men from this place,” she hissed. “And Dylan.”
“Do you not know that when a king beds his wife there must be witnesses to her purity?”
“You are not a king and I am most certainly not your wife.”
Still clasping her bloody hand, Eugis pulled her onto the altar.
Seelie struggled against her bindings. “Do not do this!” she pleaded.
Maere looked at her. “Please. I beg you. Look away.”
“Nay, we’ll have none of that. I want all to see my prize.” Eugis motioned to the guards near Seelie and Dylan. “Bind their foreheads to the tree that they might better enjoy the sights before them.”
Then, with a quick flick of the athame, the cloth at Maere’s breasts parted. Another flick, and her belly was laid bare, her clothing and undergarment cut clear through. Still another flick and one shoulder of her robe fell away.
Embarrassment flooded Maere, but she held her ground and stared at Eugis, making no attempt to cover herself. She heard Dylan’s groan. Was he awake? No, she would not allow herself to look in his direction. It was because of her that her parents were dead, it was because of her that Dylan’s father was gone. Abbess Magrethe too. All were dead because of her.
“You would torture me this way? I’ll not give you that joy, Uncle.” As she spoke, she yanked her robe down from her shoulders, letting it fall away from her body, leaving only what was left of her shift.
“Still trying to rule this ceremony, I see.” He shook his head and leaned toward her. “What of this power of yours I’ve heard so much about? Where is it now when you need it?” Eugis gestured to the man at his left, who came forward and handed his master a bronze cup in the shape of a horn. Eugis swirled the liquid around, chanting. “Perhaps your power knows I am your true mate and therefore it will not harm me. We’ll soon find out.”
Maere recalled Morrigu’s words. “You would poison me, then? Am I to be shocked? If so, know I am not.” As strong as her words were, her courage was waning. Where was her power this night? Why would it not come forward? “Truth be told, there is nothing you can do that would surprise me.”
“Nay. Not poison.” He made a sweeping gesture around the circle. “You see, I’ve promised my good followers you would be their reward for helping me this night.” He gestured with the cup. “This will only relax you. And bind your hateful tongue.”
The man who had brought her to the clearing grabbed her jaw and forced her mouth open. Eugis held the cup to her mouth, trickling the potion down her throat, smiling as she choked and swallowed.
A strange warmth spread through her. It touched her head, her belly, her legs. Maere struggled against the potion. She couldn’t focus. Her limbs grew heavy, as did her head. Panic ran through her as she suddenly recalled her mother and father’s behavior the night they were murdered. Eugis must have given them the same
potion, made from mistletoe.
“There, now. You’re feeling more amenable, aren’t you?” Eugis took a step forward and caught Maere as she swooned. He lifted her and laid her out on the bloodied linen. Chanting, he cut the wrist bindings and straightened her arms down at her sides. In a singsong voice, he beckoned the god of the forest, Robin, the green man, Jack-in-the-Woods, calling to him by every name sacred. As he called forth the Horned One, he walked to the foot of the altar and took hold of Maere’s ankles. With one swift motion, Eugis yanked her legs apart. Maere had no power to fight him.
He grinned. “Now we can truly begin.”
Chapter 37
From the depths of Dylan’s unconscious mind, a dream emerged. He was at Kate’s cottage in the forest, sitting at the sturdy old table, a cup of broth in front of him. He raised the cup to his mouth, the scent of onion and herbs filling his being as surely as the warm liquid would.
As he made to drink, a gnarled hand darted in front of him, knocking the cup to the floor. “What?” Dylan stammered, leaping to his feet. He looked up and there she was—his mentor, teacher, mother, friend. Kate’s face was even more lined than he remembered and her dark eyes bore into him.
“Nothing better to do, boy, than sit around and feed yourself?” she asked, her stare fixed on him.
Dylan glanced around the room. It was as tidy as ever, a warm fire burning in the hearth, drying flowers and herbs hanging from the beamed ceiling. “Is there something you wish me to do for you?”
She simply continued to look at him. Dylan shifted nervously. What could she possibly want? Then it dawned on him. He’d been away for a long time and hadn’t greeted her properly. He held his arms out and took a step forward. “You’re wanting a hug, I see.”
A wooden spoon appeared in her hand and, before Dylan could blink, Kate swatted both of his hands with it.
Dylan yelped. “What did you do that for?” he asked, rubbing his knuckles.