Return of the Warrior

by Kinley MacGregor

  “It didn’t even look as if he’d tried to protect himself,” one man said.

  “If he was attacked fast enough, he wouldn’t have had time to even draw his sword,” another answered.

  Ioan was standing closest to the bed, looking down upon it.

  Her heart hammered as she followed his line of vision and saw Christian lying there. His skin held a grayish cast to it. His lips were already blue. She could see the bloodied bandages where they had tried to tend him.

  There were so many cuts…

  She walked through the crowd with her head held high, but as she drew closer to him, her bearing shattered under the weight of her grief. She would have fallen had Ioan not caught her as wrenching sobs were torn from her.

  “Don’t touch me,” she screamed, pushing Ioan away from her. She only wanted to feel one man’s touch.

  And now she would most likely never feel it again.

  Sinking to her knees beside the bed, she lay her head down on Christian’s arm and wept, stretching her arm over his chest as if to protect him. She didn’t care how many were there to witness her common behavior. Nothing mattered to her except her husband who lay so close to death.

  “Please, Christian,” she sobbed. “Please don’t leave me. I promise I shall never speak another angry word to you again.”

  But he didn’t move or respond.

  Adara crawled into the bed beside him and lay herself down so that she could hold him for these last few minutes. This might very well be the last time in her life that she would be able to look upon him, to touch him.

  And that was enough to cripple her with grief.

  She heard Ioan ushering the others out while she brushed her hand through Christian’s golden blond hair. His skin was so clammy and cold. He lacked all the vitality, the fire that marked him.

  In that moment, she knew she would gladly sell her soul to have him back as he’d been just a few hours ago while they had argued. “I am so sorry that I came here and sought you out,” she whispered in his ear. “I should have left you in England where you were safe. What have I done?”

  But then she knew. She had killed him. Had it not been for her, he would be in England now with his friends. He would be alive…

  More agony washed through her as she tried to imagine what her life would be like without him. They had known each other for such a short time, and yet he had come to mean so very much to her.

  She loved having his face be the first thing she saw in the morning. Having his touch be the last thing she felt at night.

  Now it would all cease.

  “Oh, Christian,” she sobbed as she buried her face against his biceps. “I don’t want to live without you.”

  She finally understood what he’d meant when he spoke so bitterly about love. Why he refused to love her. There was truly no worse pain than what she felt now. No wonder he’d sought to protect himself from it.

  “Adara?” Ioan asked in a quiet tone from behind her.

  “Leave us,” she said, her voice breaking. “I want to be with him for as long as I can.”

  He placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder and gave a light, comforting squeeze. “I will be outside.”

  She lifted her head from Christian’s chest as she felt him withdrawing. “Ioan?”

  He paused to look at her. “Aye?”

  “I care not what it takes. Find the ones responsible for this and bring them to me.”

  “I shall have their heads and—”

  “Nay,” she said from between clenched teeth as a new wave of rage swept through her. “I want them alive so that I myself can have the pleasure of making them pay for this.”

  “I will send out my men.” Ioan made a quick exit.

  Her heart broken, she returned to Christian to lay her head on his chest so that she could hear his faint, weak heartbeat. Closing her eyes, she tried to pretend that this was the day before, when all had been right between them.

  Christian had spent a full hour in the morning making love to her. He had teased and stroked, and made light of the fact that he was tired of fighting with Ioan over their march to Elgedera.

  She had held him in her arms and stroked his hair as they talked about everything and yet nothing of any importance. She’d wanted to tell him then of the baby inside her. But Christian had been in such a good mood that she’d hesitated.

  And now this…

  “I love you, Christian,” she breathed against him. “I only wish I had told you that when you could have heard it.”

  Now, it was too late. He would never know all he was to her, all he meant. Never know the sound of his child’s cry or the joy she had felt when she’d realized that she carried this tiny part of him.

  “I swear to you, Christian, I won’t let our baby die or be used. No one will ever hurt him like they hurt you. I swear it on my immortal soul.”

  She only wished that she had guarded her husband with the same degree of care.

  Days went by as Christian hung on the threshold of death. None of the physicians could understand it. By all rights, given the severity of his wounds, he should be dead.

  He wasn’t.

  That gave Adara hope. “Stay with me, my prince,” she whispered, holding his hand and kissing his battle-scarred knuckles.

  Adara spent hours singing to him in her language and in Elgederion. She spent even longer praying for him. The days of her vigil blurred together as she waited for him to finally return to her. She would only alternate her watch with Lutian and Phantom.

  “He’s going to live, Adara,” Phantom said as he came to relieve her long enough for her to wash and attend basic needs. “I know it.”

  She hoped so. The alternative didn’t bear thinking on. “I just wish he would open his eyes and look at me. Then I would believe, too.”

  She brushed his hair back from his forehead. Today his color did seem to be better. It no longer was quite so gray and his fever seemed to have lessened.

  But he was so gaunt. His wounds so savage.

  If she ever laid hand on the villains responsible, they would know a wrath the likes of which could only be second to the devil’s own.

  Her heart heavy, she started to rise, only to feel Christian’s grip tighten on her hand.

  Instantly, she froze. “Christian?”

  His grip tightened even more, as if to let her know that he heard her. Tears fell down her cheeks as happiness swelled inside her.

  “Phantom, fetch the leech.”

  He ran without hesitation.

  Adara saw Christian’s chest rise with the first deep breath he’d taken since they had found him and brought him here. She cried uncontrollably as she held him close.

  His breathing turned ragged, no doubt from the pain he was feeling now.

  Afraid she might be hurting him, she pulled back.

  He blinked open his eyes to look at her, and it was there she saw the confirmation of his physical agony.

  “I know, my love,” she whispered to him, wanting to comfort his pain. “Lie still and just breathe easily.” Adara went to get a cup of wine so that she could dribble tiny drops of it into his mouth to ease the bitter thirst he must have.

  The leech came into the tent and paused as he saw Christian’s eyes finally open. “’Tis unbelievable,” he said, crossing himself.

  As the leech came forward, she saw Christian reach for his throat where his necklace had rested. The utter grief in his eyes tore through her.

  “All will be well,” she whispered as she kissed him on his brow, then tried to move aside to allow the leech to tend him. Christian refused to release her as a single tear leaked from the corner of his left eye to run down his temple. He kept her hand in his.

  Adara kissed the tear away, wishing she could erase his grief as easily. They had not only savaged his body, they had savaged his spirit. His last ties to his parents were gone now. She only hoped that they found the items…

  And the thieves.

  The leech di
dn’t stay long. Only long enough to check his bandages and proclaim this the most miraculous recovery he’d ever witnessed.

  “I’ll let the others know,” Phantom said.

  Adara nodded as she returned to sit on the edge of Christian’s bed. He had yet to speak with words. But his loving gaze told her volumes.

  “Welcome back to the world of the living, Christian.”

  He swallowed, then coughed.

  “Easy,” she said, afraid he might tear the stitches in his chest.

  “I’m sorry, Adara,” he said, his voice raspy and strained.

  His words baffled her. “Sorry for what?”

  “That I disappointed you.”

  Her tears started anew. “You are never a disappointment to me, Christian. Never…unless you die on me. That would make me dreadfully disappointed, and then I should have to kill you for it.”

  The corners of his lips lifted a tiny bit.

  Suddenly activity exploded in the tent as Ioan and all the others came pouring in to see for themselves that Christian was awake and living.

  But Adara wouldn’t let them stay long for fear of weakening him. One by one she shooed them out, until it was just her and Ioan, while Phantom went to find a cup of broth for Christian.

  “You scared us all, Abbot,” Ioan said sternly. “’Twould do us no good to win back a throne for a corpse.”

  Christian snorted at that. “Aye, but it gives us an advantage now, doesn’t it?”

  Ioan nodded. “They’ll think we turned back without you here to lead us.”

  Adara excused herself to attend her needs.

  “Nay!” Christian snapped hoarsely. “They could still be out there, watching for you.” He looked to Ioan. “Keep someone with her at all times.”

  “Consider it done.” Ioan paused before they left. “I have a spare sword for you. I know it’s not your father’s, but it is a fine weapon.”

  A muscle worked in Christian’s jaw, but he said nothing as they left.

  Christian lay there in silence as his mind replayed what had happened outside the church. He’d never been angrier over anything.

  He would be more vigilant in the future. At no time could any of them afford to let their guard down. He was lucky that he wasn’t dead.

  Nay, it wasn’t luck. He knew why he’d fought so hard to return to consciousness.

  Adara.

  She was the breath inside him, the strength. How could he deny the truth?

  Others need you.

  “I need her.” It was that easy and that hard. He didn’t want to live without her and yet how could he forsake those who needed him to help them?

  Unlike the war for Elgedera, he didn’t see how he could possibly win in this.

  Christian didn’t truly breathe again until Adara was back inside his tent where he could watch and make sure she was fine.

  “You look tired,” he said as she rejoined him.

  Ioan snorted. “She’s barely rested while you layill. We tried to get her to leave you, but it was nigh impossible.”

  She blushed prettily as she started to take a seat near the bed.

  “Come here, wife.” He held his hand out to her.

  Ioan cleared his throat. “Now that she’s returned to you, I’ll leave the two of you alone.” He inclined his head to them before he took his leave.

  “How long have I lain unconscious?” he asked her.

  “Just over a sennight.”

  “I’m sorry if I worried you.”

  “And well you should be,” she said in a stern voice that was belied by her teasing gaze. “I have worn my knees out in prayer for your worthless hide these days past.”

  “Worthless?”

  “Aye. Why I bothered, I have no idea.”

  Still he could see the relief and the teasing in her dark eyes, and that warmed him more than a raging fire. “I’m glad you bothered.”

  She smiled, then sobered. “Who attacked you?”

  “The Sesari,” he said as rage took root in his heart. “No doubt they took my necklace as proof for Selwyn that I’d been slain.”

  Her gaze narrowed. “I am glad they took that and not your head.”

  “As am I. I can live without the medallion, but not the head.”

  Christian heard a disturbance outside. He pushed himself up even while Adara protested his movements.

  Suddenly a group of the bishop’s knights entered the tent.

  “What is this?” Christian demanded.

  “We’re here to arrest the witch.”

  Christian felt the color fade from his face. “Then you’ve come to the wrong place. There is no witch here.”

  Without hesitation, they moved to take Adara from his side.

  Christian came off the bed at the same time Ioan, Lutian, and Phantom entered. He staggered, but refused to fall. “Release her!”

  “Nay, we are under the order of the Church. The witch is to be tried for her crimes.”

  “What has she done?” Christian and Ioan asked at the same time.

  “According to her accuser, she summoned the devil to save you. You, by all normal rights, should be dead.”

  “That is ludicrous!” Christian snarled. “There is no devil here.”

  “I have done nothing,” Adara said.

  “Silence, witch.” One of the knights drew back his hand to strike her.

  Christian grabbed the man and, even while near death, he shoved him away from her. “You lay one hand to my wife, and there’s no power on this earth or beyond to save you from my wrath. None. If you want a prisoner, then take me.”

  “Bishop Innocent wishes to interrogate her himself for the charges against her.”

  “It will be all right, Christian,” Adara said. “I am innocent. You rest and I will be back soon.”

  But he knew better. He’d studied the Church’s laws extensively. He knew firsthand the devices they would use to wrest a confession from her.

  “You tell the bishop that he is not to go near her until I speak with him.”

  The knight laughed at him. “The bishop doesn’t speak to heathens who are in league with witches.”

  Before Christian could move, they had dragged her from the tent.

  Christian sat back on the bed, too weak to stop this travesty.

  “What do we do?” Ioan asked.

  Christian looked to Phantom. It would take too long to get to the pope. By then, Adara would most likely be condemned and executed…that is, if she survived interrogation. “Follow them and see where they take her.”

  Phantom left immediately. Christian went to his trunk to pull out his monk’s robe.

  Ioan put his hand out to stop him. “You can barely stand, Christian.”

  He shrugged his friend’s hand away. “You know as well as I do what they’ll do to her. I cannot allow this.”

  “If you go to her defense, they could label you a witch as well.”

  “Then I will die.”

  Ioan shook his head. “Fine. We die together, then.”

  Adara stumbled as they shoved her into a small cell and slammed shut the door. Her heart hammered in panic. All around her, she heard echoing screams, cries, and prayers. The sounds of people being beaten. She still couldn’t believe the way they had dragged her through the city.

  “I am a queen!” she shouted as they locked the door.

  The knight laughed at her. “Where’s your royal finery, Majesty?” he mocked. “Do you not know the penalty for impersonating nobility is death?”

  “I am not impersonating anyone. I am Queen Adara of Taagaria.”

  “And I’m King David.” Laughing, they walked off and left her there.

  Adara felt her courage falter as she heard the sound of mice scurrying in the dark corners of her cell. “This can’t be happening,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around herself as if to protect her from the atrocity.

  The walls were damp and cold, the air stale and pungent. Unidentifiable shadows flickered eerily on the
walls from the torches that were held in iron sconces. ’Twas truly hell on earth.

  And Christian had lived in such a place for years as a youth.

  For the first time, she fully understood him. No wonder he hated confined spaces. This was the most terrifying thing she could imagine.

  She had done nothing wrong. But then, neither had Christian.

  “What am I going to do?”

  What if they didn’t believe her? She’d heard many stories of the Western church and the madness that at times could possess their clergy. They were known to burn witches and heretics. To torture them until they confessed to any crime just to get the punishment to stop.

  I am innocent.

  But at the end of the day, would that matter to them?

  “God save me,” she breathed, hoping for a miracle.

  Fourteen

  Her miracle didn’t come right away. Adara wasn’t sure how long she’d been captive. There was no window to judge hour from hour, and the screams of the tortured were endless.

  She heard the door rattle on her cell. Getting up, she waited with bated breath, praying it would be Christian come to get her.

  It wasn’t.

  A fat, beady-eyed bishop came in. He was dressed in his black bishop’s robes and flanked by two other priests, who wore white. They all had craggy faces that were completely devoid of compassion or kindness.

  The bishop curled his lip as he raked a repugnant glare over her. “So you’re the witch.”

  “Nay, Your Grace, I—”

  ”Silence!”

  The queen in her rebelled at his commanding tone. Bishop he might be, but she, not him, ruled her country. In fact, her country was Orthodox and didn’t believe in the authority of the Roman Church to preside over them at all.

  But provoking the man would get her nowhere, so she stood there in silence even though what she really wanted to do was give him a piece of her royal mind.

  He came forward to stare at her. “She is dark like the devil. Has she been searched for his mark?”