“You little bitch!”
Ramona fought through double vision to locate the raspy female voice. Lulu stepped into view. She appeared the angel with her long, golden tresses unbound and cascading down her back. Her luxurious gown whispered Ramona's doom with each step.
“You think you can escape?” Lulu snorted. “Labelle will be extraordinarily pleased when I haul your brat back to her.”
Ramona managed to stand. “Over my dead body.”
“Pity you should say so. You’ve ruined the surprise.”
For the millionth time since her abduction, Ramona cursed the majik zapping anklet. She’d love to fry the smirk from the bitch’s face right about now. “Fuck off.”
Everything moved in slow motion as Lulu removed a jeweled dagger from between her cleavage. Her sultry laughter made Ramona nauseous. “I beg you, do not worry. I'll take care of Lord Jalomar in his grief. You'll become a distant memory soon enough.”
Ramona screamed as the dagger pierced her chest.
Kald’s body was torn; his leg hung by a thread of flesh. The smell of death permeated the atmosphere. He had seen the maiden running for safety, bringing a satisfied smile to his dying lips. He had lived long enough to ensure her freedom. The rest was up to Lord Jalomar.
And then she screamed.
Nay, he could not lie down and die with honor just yet. Using his arms to pull his weight, he crawled to the nearby wall where a stack of hay burned. He braced himself against the stone and placed one of his blades in the fire. With the other, he lopped of the single piece of muscle keeping his leg attached. There was no pain, his nerves long dead. He ripped a long strip of what remained of his tunic, and tied it tightly around the end of his thigh. He then removed the burning red steel from the flame, inhaled deeply, and pressed the blade to his severed flesh, effectively sealing the opening. Blissful unconsciousness ended his agony moments later.
The rain poured down hard, hitting her chest where Lulu's dagger remained embedded. It hurt like hell. She resisted the need to yank it free, knowing it could inevitably cause more damage. For right now the bleeding had stopped, increasing her chance of survival. The blade had missed her heart, or she’d be deader than dead right now. Her heart ached, and not for the obvious reasons. Lulu had her baby. The bitch better pray nothing happened to her child before she found her. Actually, it didn't matter. She was going to kill the whore anyway.
Ramona didn't know how long she’d been laying in the open, but she knew she had to move. Tears filled her eyes and mixed with the rainwater. She blinked several times, determined to not break into another bout of sobs. It only made everything hurt more. Goddammit. And damn the Vespa, too!
She turned her head to the side, straining to hear anything. Silence greeted her. Had the battle ended? How long ago? Why hadn't Jalomar come for her? Or Sandread? Cynthe? Were they dead? Had Labelle killed them? So many questions only compounded the severe throbbing in her head. She burst into tears regardless of the excruciating pain it brought. She had dared to believe that for one moment everything would be fine. Jalomar had stormed the castle to rescue her and their child, battled the evil queen, and even redeemed his wicked brother. It was the perfect fairytale…with a Grimm Brothers ending.
Ramona turned her gaze upward. A streak of pink highlighted the approaching dusk. She prayed only a few hours had slipped away, and this was the same night coming to an end. If so, there was a chance Jalomar survived and still searched for her.
“Milady!”
She jerked her head to the left.
“I beg you, do not move.”
Ramona stilled, barely breathing as she waited on a visual of the voice’s owner. It was vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t put a face to it.
“I am Kald. Second in command of Dilseacht’s army, and childhood friend of Lord Jalomar. Do not be alarmed.”
“Oh, thank you God and the Vespa. I take back all the bad things I said and thought.”
Kald knelt beside her and examined the dagger in depth. He grunted, seemingly satisfied. “If you stand slowly and hold the dagger as it is now, we can put some mild distance between us and this place. I cannot risk pulling the steel from you with the enemy close enough to hear your screams.”
“What? Wait?”
“Milady, I cannot lie to you. It's going to hurt like a mother fucker, and then there's the chance it will need to have the bleeding stopped. And that requires a fire and a hot blade…to your wound.”
“You want to cauterize me, like a cow brand or something? No! Just pull it out!”
“Nay. I will not risk slicing your heart.”
Kald’s blank expression told her he wasn’t going to cave, so Ramona conceded instead. She’d do whatever he told her to at this point if it meant finding her baby sooner. She allowed him to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her up from behind as she held the dagger secure between her palms. He released her once she was steady on her own. She turned around to thank him when she noticed he was leaning on a long stick.
Kald held his head high. “We should leave now that you can walk, milady.”
Her eyes followed the stick down to find he was missing a leg from mid-thigh down. Hysterical laughter erupted from her hoarse throat. Nothing was funny about the situation, but she wouldn’t cry again. “Please, forgive me.” She snorted between gasps of air. “But, look at us! I have a bloody dagger sticking out of my chest, and you are missing a freaking leg!”
Kald scowled. “When your amusement is appeased, there's a small cottage a couple miles west of here. We can take refuge there for a few days while you heal.”
Ramona shook her head yes through the continued laughter. She didn’t care if Kald was looking at her like she was a raging lunatic. She had to laugh, or her sanity would soon leave her, and she would just lie down and die.
Chapter Forty-three
Jalomar poked at the burning campfire with a stick. It had been a week since the siege on Dika, and still no Ramona. He feared for her and his child’s life. The birth had left her weak and unable to defend herself. He and Sandread had followed her trail, leading them outside Dika's bailey where they found pieces of her nightgown laying in a massive pool of blood. It remained uncertain if she’d fallen to foul play, or had hemorrhaged to death from the birth.
He tried to mentally conjure his daughter’s face, but couldn't. He had only glanced at her dark head for a brief moment before it was time to leave. Did she have her mother's eyes? Skin? Beautiful heart shaped face? He may never know, and it tore at his soul a little more each day. The more time that passed, the less the odds of finding both mother and child alive became.
“Pardon me, Lord Jalomar,” Azer called from the nearby tree. “How much longer do you intend to continue this camping trip? You cannot keep me tied forever.”
“It's for your own good, High Priest. I cannot risk you running off and causing more problems.”
“What makes you believe I would do so?”
Jalomar frowned. Even now, Azer's black eyes seethed hatred. After witnessing him manhandle Cynthe, he knew the once great Vespa had turned evil. “You're not you anymore. Your light has left you mad, untrustworthy.”
Azer chuckled. “Nay, I tell you, Lord Jalomar. The loss of my light has opened my eyes to a whole different view of this failing world. It was a hindrance to my true potential! Remove this damned choker the Lady Cynthe has cursed upon me, and I can show you how I feel!”
Sandread came up from behind, carrying a bundle of firewood. He shot a look of disgust toward the bound Vespa. “Perhaps we should gag him as well.”
Jalomar grunted his agreement, his attention turning to his new found friend, and brother. “We should reach Dilseacht by noon on the morrow. There we can better assert the damage and losses, and start the search over if need be.”
“Do you suppose Ramona and the babe made it to Dilseacht? Perhaps, one of the men got her away? There are plenty still missing. Surely someone saw her and took her home?”
Jalomar willed Sandread’s notion to come true. Kald hadn't been counted among the dead left behind. If anyone could steal Ramona into safety, it was he. “Let us hope so.”
Azer's cruel laughter soiled the hopeful moment. He had truly gone mad.
Sandread dropped the firewood beside the fire pit and stomped over to Azer. “You are lucky my brother has decided you should live.” The heel of Sandread's boot connected with Azer's temple, knocking him out cold. Smiling, Sandread returned to the campfire. “Silence, what a blissful blessing.”
Once Azer regained consciousness with the rising sun, Jalomar and his brother packed up camp and made their way for Dilseacht with the High Priest as their prisoner. Sandread decided to stay behind under the cover of the nearby forest as Jalomar walked Azer through the gates. He begrudgingly agreed when Sandread reminded him of the people’s animosity toward him.
After securing Azer in the northern tower, Jalomar summoned his men-at-arms to the main hall. He told them of the battle between Cynthe and Labelle and how the evil sorceress had been defeated by the Vespian priest’s sacrifice. They all cheered when he held her majikal prison up for all to see; he waited for the excitement to quiet down before speaking again. “As many of you know already, my brother was of great aide this battle.” Several grunts and a few mutters met his statement. He continued on. “I know there has been a long, drawn out feud between Sandread and myself, but I swear to you now, my friends, the Sandread we knew is gone. By happenstance or miracle, he has been guided onto the right path by none other than our own Lady Ramona—the Fiery Maiden.”
Several hoorahs went up at the mention of Ramona. “Where is the Lady Ramona?” someone shouted from the back.
Jalomar’s chest constricted as he prepared himself to tell the next part of the story. “The maiden is missing, along with my child.”
The room erupted into a plethora of questions, overwhelming Jalomar with emotion. His eyes watered. He damned himself for the womanly tears he was about to shed. He envisioned Ramona holding an infant with no face.
Gunther emerged from the crowd, he patted Jalomar’s back. “As a father, I understand your pain, milord. I would tear the universe apart searching for my sons and Greta.”
At the center, Senior Halton raised his arms and began shouting. “We must search for the Lady Ramona and her child! We have defeated Labelle’s wickedness, and we shall not allow the evil bitch this final victory! For the maiden!”
The men all roared their fealty to the cause, echoing Senior Halton.
“For the maiden!”
“For our heir!”
“For Lord Jalomar!”
“For Dilseacht!”
Consumed by his men’s pledges, Jalomar fell to his knees, humbled. He drew strength from their zeal. Come what may for the search for Ramona and his daughter, he would never forget this moment and would devote the remainder of his life repaying their loyalty. Hope rekindled his soul. It was time to reclaim what was his. He rose to his feet and bowed to them before raising his hand for silence. “On morning light, I will be sending Commander Sandread and section two to Dika. Section two, your commander has fallen and is among the confirmed dead. My brother Sandread, now at peace with Dilseacht and myself, will take charge of the unit. Until he can fill his own ranks, consider yourselves his men from this moment on.”
Jalomar scanned the crowd before him, searching for any hint of abhorrence or possible trouble. Nothing. Instead, his faithful men eagerly awaited further instruction. “Sections one and three will commence a search for the Lady Ramona, and my daughter. Sections four, five and six, will remain here and keep Dilseacht secure. We cannot, and will not risk any rogue attempts from Dika, and those who remain loyal to the fallen queen. Is all understood?”
“Aye, Lord Jalomar!”
Hope Mother Shaila greeted Cynthe as she stepped through the swirling portal between realms. The last time Cynthe had been in the cavern was with Azer. Oh how she wished she could be standing here with him again, instead of returning alone to tell of his valiant sacrifice.
The Vespian world materialized as Hope Mother guided her through the cave. She followed the aged Vespa several yards down a dirt path to a peaceful pond where a single marble bench rested near the water’s edge. A set of raccoons—animals long extinct to the human world—frolicked across the way. Hearing the women approach, they sniffed the air and ran away to hide in a row of nearby hedges. As far as she could see, Red Wood trees lined the horizon; their needlelike leaves reflected the sun’s rays. It was such a majikal place full of light and life.
Hope Mother gestured to the bench to sit. Cynthe did so with a heavy sigh. “I have come to bring you devastating news.” She hung her head as she spoke.
Hope Mother said nothing.
“I hesitated to come at all. But I knew I had to explain Azer's sacrifice. He never meant to interfere with the prophesy. He only wanted what was best for his people. But he was unable... to...” Cynthe's voice broke with a rush of tears.
“I know, sweet child. I already know what has been. We all felt his forfeiture as his light left us. His love for you is far greater than that of the threat of death.”
Hope Mother’s kind words only inflated Cynthe’s guilt. “It is my fault! Because he loved me, he isn’t himself and the future may be doomed!”
“True, the Sacred Scrolls have changed.” Hope Mother sat beside Cynthe and wrapped her arms around her trembling shoulders. “Nonetheless, the prophesy remains firm. The course is merely altered.”
Cynthe gasped. “But how can that be?”
“My dearest child”—Hope Mother gave her a little squeeze—“despite your Vespian blood, there is much your human mind cannot comprehend. Just know that the time current cannot be altered permanently. It will always loop until things are set as ordained.”
“Are you saying I still have a chance to fulfil my part of the prophesy?”
Hope Mother’s smile magically erased the hard line of age. “In time, little one. You will know. It will find you. For now, you shall return to the human world. Your guidance is needed there.”
Chapter Forty-four
The dish maid limped her way through the gates of Dilseacht. Jagged strips of what remained of her tattered dress barely covered her battered body. Streaks of blood stained her ratted and mud caked hair. Jalomar's sentries recognized her first, many of them having dallied with the insatiable wench in the past. They pointed to the wrapped bundle in her arms as Jalomar raced across the courtyard.
General Rasta, the eldest ranked general in Dilseacht, questioned her before Jalomar could catch is wind from the sudden sprint. “Where does this babe hail from?”
Jalomar eagerly eyed the bundle. Lulu clutched it tighter as she fell to her knees sobbing. “She hails from your lord's loins. It is the child of the Lady Ramona.”
The general sputtered on his words. “Wh…where…is the Lady Ramona?”
“She is dead, milord. I could not save them both.”
Rasta tried to console the woman as Jalomar reached out to take the child. The baby woke and began to fuss. He unwrapped her. His heart nearly exploded with joy when emerald eyes stared back at him.
Greselda came up from behind, her lips pressed firmly together as she ogled the dish maid. “Milord,” she said. “Hand the babe to me. She is naked and filthy, and in desperate need of feedin’.”
Jalomar thought to naysay his chamberlain. After all, it was the first time he’d actually held his daughter. But Greselda’s raised brow warned him otherwise. “You're right, Gressy. See to her immediately. But I want two guards with her at all times.”
Greselda frowned. She tsked her tongue as she was often known to do. “As if anyone could pry this child away from me. Bah!”
Ramona spent an entire day digging a hole large enough to bury Kald. Finally, she smoothed over the last scoop of dirt with her scratched and chaffed hands, and then plopped down beside the lone grave. “Rest in peace, dearest Kald. Th
ank you for saving my life. May God and the Vespa bless your soul.”
She stared down at her bloody and dirt caked fingertips. There wasn’t a clean spot on her. She pushed her tired body up and stretched. Thirst from a hard day’s work convinced her she needed to make a trip to the nearby stream for both a drink and quick bath.
The sun was setting when she finally came upon the bubbly spring. Even with the chilly nighttime air of late fall, she couldn't resist the urge to fully emerge herself beneath the cleansing water. Over a week since her last full bath, she desperately needed to feel clean.
She stripped the ragged, bloody stained nightgown she’d been forced to wear since her escape, and stepped into the crisp water. Wading to the middle where the water reached just below her chin, she closed her eyes as the chill pierced her warm flesh like a thousand needles pricking her at once. But she didn't care. The aseptic feel held her captive. Tilting her head back, she stared upward at the crescent moon playing peek-a-boo from behind the dark clouds. The darkness reminded her of her loneliness. A mangled cry escaped her.
Her child… her daughter, was somewhere beneath this same moon, completely vulnerable without a mother. Ramona's only comfort was knowing her child still lived and breathed, waiting to be found. She couldn't explain it, but she felt the newborn's life-force still beating strong. Wherever the traitorous bitch Lulu had taken her, Ramona vowed to find her. And when she did, Lulu would suffer. To say there would be Hell to pay was a mild description of what Ramona had planned.
After the much needed bath, Ramona returned to the rundown shack and attempted to sleep. It proved futile as she tossed and turned on the filthy bedding, her mind refusing to leave her child. For the millionth time since her capture, she tried to communicate with Azer, but she suspected somehow the anklet prevented that as well as tapered her majik.
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