She had given up trying to make the sky give birth to Gideon, and Marius had seen Gideon before she did. She ran to his side. “Marius, please…” she pleaded, wanting to go with him.
The forest lord’s posture clenched, and he showed her a side of his nature she had never seen and wished never to see again. His dark eyes smoldered like live coals, and his jaw muscles began to tick in a steady rhythm. There was murder in those eyes. They were immutable, their message unequivocal. In spite of herself, she gasped.
“Lady, stay!” he demanded. “Do not think to defy me. The watchers no longer care to wait for him to enter a woman to strike. They are not only after blood, they hunger for his very soul! Distract me now and they surely will have it! Now, do not cross this threshold.”
Well, well, the Lord of the Forest has a temper, she realized, but the thought was scarcely out when Marius, loosing a string of expletives, stripped off the quiver, tossed down the bow, and began tearing at his clothes, ripping them off and flinging them every which way. It was almost as if he was compelled to strip naked before her. There was no shred of modesty in him. It was as if she wasn’t even there.
It took Rhiannon a moment to realize what was happening. Marius had become like a man possessed in the throes of the strange frenzy that had left him standing before her in all his erect magnificence, his body, like burnished bronze gleaming in the glow of rushlights set about in sconces on the roughly hewn walls. Her breath caught in her throat and she backed up apace, for the last boot had scarcely sailed through the air when a blinding streak of white-hot silver light, like liquid mercury, surged around the naked forest lord before her, lifting him into the air.
“Mica on his throne!” Marius gritted out through clenched teeth as he came down not as a man, but as the centaur. “Now see what you’ve done!” he seethed.
Snatching the quiver and bow he’d hurled down when the transformation began, he burst through the lodge door that was barely wide enough to accommodate his bulk, knocking over a chair and trestle table in his path, and galloped out into the jaundiced midday twilight, a roar like nothing human Rhiannon had ever heard echoing after him.
She staggered to the open doorway and leaned against the jamb. The arrows left Marius’s longbow in rapid succession so swiftly she saw only the blur of their motion as he disappeared into the forest. She could scarcely believe her eyes. How had that happened? How had he shapeshifted into the centaur when it wasn’t moon dark? Whatever the phenomenon, after what she’d seen in Marius’s eyes, she would not leave the lodge, though she ached to run to Gideon, to see for herself that he’d come through the watcher’s barrage unharmed. She longed to tell him what had occurred to her as the perfect solution to their dilemma, but what she had just witnessed with Marius had rooted her to the spot.
Rhiannon sank to her knees in the doorway. Outside, the lightning flashed in snakelike columns streaking across the clearing, illuminating the stiff-limbed trees standing in their unnatural aspects. Neither a branch, nor twig, nor leaf moved in the deathly stillness that had fallen over the forest, as the heavens opened, dumping torrents of rain upon them—oak and pine, rowan, ash, and whitethorn alike.
She shut her eyes against the blue-white glare, and the next thing she knew she was in Gideon’s arms. Raising her up, he crushed her close, then held her away, his wild eyes raking her from head to toe. They hadn’t missed Marius’s clothing strewn about. He cast a hard eye toward the disheveled pile of buckskins and cambric, then turned his dark gaze upon her.
“What happened here?” he said, shaking her gently. “What did you do to bring out the centaur?”
“What did I do?” Rhiannon cried, twisting in his arms.
“Aside from during the dark of the moon, Marius does not shapeshift unless he is sexually or emotionally challenged. What set him off?”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t sexual,” Rhiannon defended. “He’s been agitated since you left. A strange silence fell over the forest. He wouldn’t leave me because you asked him not to, so he sent Sy to make his rounds for him. When Sy didn’t return he became edgy. Then when you finally did return and he set out to help you, he told me not to leave the lodge. I didn’t want him to leave me alone. I was about to ask him to take me to you with him, and he…he…I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like what happened! He threw off his clothes, and the next thing I knew the centaur charged out of here all but knocking that door off its hinges. What is going on?”
“I do not know,” Gideon said, raking his hands through his hair. “I only wish I did.”
“Where is Marius now?” Rhiannon asked.
“I do not know that either,” said Gideon. “He stomped off into the wood like a madman after he fired on the watchers. Sy is nowhere to be found, and the silence of the trees can only mean calamity. He suspects Ravelle, as do I, and I know we must leave here. We’ve brought enough down upon Marius, but the rune caster was right, I cannot abandon him now, when he needs me, especially since I’ve caused this nightmare.”
“Gideon, we need to talk. I think I’ve figured out a way for us.”
He took her by the arm and led her to the pool chamber. “That will have to wait,” he said. “I have to find Marius and see what’s to be done out there. If it is Ravelle that we’re dealing with, we need to send him back to Outer Darkness where he belongs. Marius cannot do that on his own, neither can I, but maybe together…At any rate, I need to help him, and I cannot do that with you underfoot. I want you to stay here, where you are safe, while I see to it. Will you do as I ask, or must I lock you in? Never mind. I think I will lock you in, in any case. Ravelle is able to shapeshift as well. He takes many forms. He is very clever at it. Remember what happened in the astral, when you thought that creature was me. Ravelle is able to do the same magic. If he were to get hold of you now and spirit you back into Outer Darkness…No! I will lock you in until I settle this. You haven’t slept. While I am gone, refresh yourself in the pool and rest. We can ill afford to take chances now. I have but one feather left to call back, and we will need that to buy our freedom when needs must.”
“There has to be some way that I could distinguish between you,” Rhiannon pleaded. The thought of being locked away in the pool chamber terrified her. What if the catastrophe both Gideon and Marius feared came to pass and neither of them returned? She would be trapped. There was no rear exit to the pool chamber except underwater, and she had no idea how long a stretch it was to reach another air pocket, or where it would take her even if she did.
“There would be no physical difference,” Gideon responded. “Demeanor is the only way, just as it was in the astral, when you finally knew that entity was not me. Ask a question—something only I would know, but it will not come to that.”
He crushed her close in a smothering embrace, cocooning her in his wings. She could feel the pent-up sexual energy flowing through his dynamic body. She could feel it in the pressure of his hard roped torso, in the tightness of the corded muscles in his biceps and well-turned thighs. Their oaken circumference was so perfectly sculpted it was as if they had been turned on a lathe, every sinew, every ligament a conduit for the sexual stream flowing between them in their oneness.
The bruising hardness of his erect penis leaned heavily against her pubic mound as he drew her closer still, finding her lips with his warm, searching mouth. His hands roamed over her body through the fine homespun shift Marius had provided, lingering upon the turgid peaks of her nipples poking through the fabric.
“Gods above, but you are beautiful,” he murmured, working the hard nubbin on one breast between his thumb and forefinger.
“Gideon, please don’t lock me in here,” she pleaded. “Lock the outer doors if you must, but do not leave me trapped in this pool chamber.”
“Were you and Marius both out of the lodge at the same time earlier, no matter how briefly?”
“I went for a walk and he came to fetch me back when the trees went silent,” she replied.
&n
bsp; “Was that before or after Sy went missing?”
“After, why?”
“Then no,” he said. “I cannot take chances with your safety. Ravelle could have slipped inside while you two were out. It’s best that I lock you in here now, just in case.”
“Gideon, Ravelle projected his image in the Outer Darkness forest and brought the elvers to terrorize us—and yes, I did think of my abhorrence of those creatures when I saw them as an entrée on his banquet table. If he could do that, mine my thoughts to extract my fears, and you know he did, what lock will bar him from this pool?”
“What other choice have we?” Gideon argued.
“You could take me with you,” she suggested.
“That I will not do!” he said. “I have no idea what we are facing in that forest out there. I have only seen this phenomenon twice before in all my years. Many trees were lost on both occasions. More loss must be prevented at all costs. Have you ever seen a tree spirit die? No? Well, I have. It is a gut-wrenching experience to watch an ancient entity writhe screaming—tethered in its deathbed by its own roots—its flaming branches pleading toward the heavens while the fire consumes it utterly. Marius has seen this also. By the gods, angst over that is no doubt what set him off and caused him to transform into the centaur. He doubtless feared that a stray watcher’s missile would strike one of those trees, trapping the spirit inside and causing a holocaust such as what has occurred in the past. I will not take you into the midst of such as that.”
“Then give me a means of escape if needs must.” Gideon hesitated, and she twisted free of his embrace. “You do not trust me!” she cried.
“I do not trust his magic!” he corrected her. “I do not know the depth of it, and when I fell I lost what powers I possessed that might have matched it, elsewise I would not need to consult with the rune caster.”
Seizing her in his arms again, he took her lips in a fiery kiss that drained her senses, his hot tongue teasing, thrusting into her, igniting fires at the core of her sex that started her juices flowing.
“I do not want to leave you,” he panted, thrusting his hand between her thighs, gliding his finger along her slit, riding her wetness.
Rhiannon groaned as he probed deeper, penetrating her swollen folds one at a time, opening the petals of her sex as he delved deeper, feeling the hot, moist walls of her vagina, reaching into the narrow void beyond for the womb his fingers were not long enough to touch.
Rhiannon groaned, leaning into his embrace, trying to take the probing fingers deeper. There was a glimmer of finality in his fondling, a facet of desperation that hit her as hard as if he’d actually struck her. That was more terrifying than her fear of Ravelle. His sudden bone-crushing embrace punctuated her fears, and she gripped his arms as he tore himself away.
“Gideon…don’t leave me!” she shrilled.
But it was too late. A cold, damp wind rushed at her, filling the space where his warm body had been. He didn’t answer. She blinked, and he was no more than a blur streaking through the pool chamber door.
The rasp of a key turning in the lock echoed over the warm, steamy water rising from the pool, then nothing. Except for the shrill reverberation of her pleading sobs and the dull thud of her tiny fists pounding on the ancient wood, there wasn’t another sound.
25
Locking Rhiannon away in the pool chamber against her will was the hardest thing Gideon had ever done, but he needed his wits about him, and the only way he could hope to do everything in his power to keep her out of harm’s way while he was about the business at hand.
Adrenaline surged through every fiber of his body, charged with the inevitability of the reckoning he feared, and the raw carnal need Rhiannon’s soft, willing flesh had ignited pumping through his veins. His need was acute, but there wasn’t time to address it. With Rhiannon’s pleadings ringing in his ears, he snatched up a handful of the oat cakes heaped on a plate in the middle of the table and burst out into the rain-swept midday semidarkness.
The rain had begun to slack by the time he reached the forest, sprinting across the clearing rather than taking to the air. Mercifully, the deluge had kept the watchers at bay until then. That it was slacking was not a good sign. He had hoped for more saturation in case of fire. His head was spinning. The peace of mind he’d hoped locking Rhiannon away out of danger would bring hadn’t come. In fact, he was more worried than ever. She had touched upon several valid points in her argument, and he wished he knew more of the demon’s capabilities. Making matters worse, the disembodied voices were ghosting across his mind again. He strained his ears to hear what they were saying, but it was for the most part garbled, though some sentences did come through. If only he knew what it all meant…
Surely, we can reveal ourselves now, the first speaker said. She knows!
The other uttered an exasperated grunt. Doesn’t matter a whit what she knows, it’s what he accepts that’s going to do it…if it can be done.
The first speaker sighed. And you do not think he will accept it?
He’s a reckless sort, your Lord of the Dark, the second speaker hedged. I do not think we dare take that for granted. She tried to tell him. He wouldn’t even listen. He is too long a creature of habit in his own realm. I fear so vast a change may be too great for him to bear.
The first speaker sputtered. Be fair, he said. What’s happening in that forest is the greater press. The other didn’t answer, and the first speaker went on quickly, All right, if you won’t reveal our identity, will you at least agree to call for reinforcements…if not for Gideon, for the Lord of the Forest…?
The voices trailed off to mumbling then. Gideon pricked up his ears to hear more, but the words were reduced to mumbling, like the droning of a thousand bees buzzing around in his head. He didn’t like that they’d brought Rhiannon into their conversation. They had never done that before. But there was no time to dwell on that then. The forest loomed before him, tall and silent. It was as if all the spirits of the Ancient Ones had already vacated their host trees. He almost wished that was the case, staring up at the lifeless branches dripping water as if it were the sad things’ tears.
Jolted back to the grim present, he beat back the strange voices’ message and made his way between the trees. Breaking up the oat cakes he’d taken from the lodge, he crumbled some in each of the stone basin shrines he passed to pay tribute as he moved through the wood, pausing at each in hopes of a response, but there was none. The trees remained unchanged, their aspects dismal and still. It was as if the pulse of the forest had ceased to beat.
Dry lightning speared down as he made his way among the trees. He assumed it was natural lightning, for he had never known the watchers to jeopardize the Ancient Ones before. Ravelle, on the other hand, would have no such consideration, and Gideon took a chill recalling a past devastation that the demon had caused.
Dropping to his knees before one of the larger stone basins, he left his tribute, and prayed. “Ancient One, what must I do to forestall whatever calamity it is that threatens here?” he murmured, gazing into the great pine’s still branches. What he wouldn’t give to feel those fragrant needles stroking him now—any response from the tree would be welcome. He was even willing to suffer a cuffing, but the tree remained motionless, its fragrance the only evidence of life.
“It is no use,” a voice said close beside him.
Gideon whipped around and surged to his feet to face Marius, whose restless hooves were tearing up the mulch underfoot, lifting pollen spores that had been held down by the rain until it looked like snow was falling all around them.
“Mica’s toenails! Where have you been?” Gideon blurted out.
“Trying to purge a very embarrassing incident,” the forest lord said.
“I know. I’ve been to the lodge,” Gideon said.
“Let us just say I was distressed over all this and trying to keep my word to you…and something snapped. Where is she?”
“I locked her in the pool chamber whi
le we settle this. She wasn’t too receptive to that, but I need her safe until we settle this. What is happening here? I’ve left tributes in every basin I’ve passed hoping for a response, but it’s as if the spirits have all vacated their trees.”
“It is the same throughout the island,” Marius said. “That’s where I’ve been, checking the others, hoping we weren’t having a repeat of what happened the last time Ravelle was on the rampage. It does not bode well, Gideon. Unless I miss my guess, we are under siege here. The Ancient Ones know it too.”
“Have they vacated?”
“No,” Marius said. “Where are they to go? It is an ancient spiritual rite they perform. You cannot reach them now—no one can, not even myself. They prepare for death, for their journey to the afterlife.”
“This is not the watchers’ doing,” Gideon confirmed. “As insidious as they are, I cannot fathom them risking the Ancient Ones in such a way.”
“No, they are out for your blood, my friend, but they will not put the Ancient Ones to the hazard to get it. This is Ravelle. I just wish I knew if it was merely Outer Darkness glamour that has turned these old sentinels in upon themselves, or if that demon is actually among us.”
“What can we do?”
“There is nothing we can do,” Marius returned, “until it begins.”
Rhiannon leaned against the locked pool chamber door, touching the ancient wood. She was hoarse from calling out. It was no use anymore. She’d heard the lodge door slam shut outside. Gideon was gone, and there was nothing to do but wait for him to return.
Across the chamber, rising steam from the pool, rich in minerals, wafted toward her. Should she accept the invitation? Gideon had told her to refresh herself in the pool. She hadn’t purged the stink of Outer Darkness from her nostrils, she wondered if she ever would. A good soaking in that heavenly water silkened with minerals and rosemary was so appealing she couldn’t resist venturing closer.
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