“Hmmm. Very interesting, indeed."
“Do you intend to keep the meet, Laird?"
“Aye. But, it sounds like we should be keeping a watchful eye on Lochinver keep, and this Lord Viper. Mayhap Sir Nevil as well."
“Shall I send scouts?"
“Aye. Two to the keep, and two in search of Nevil."
“With Tristan and the others gone, we will be left at a disadvantage if war is declared against us."
“Instruct everyone to be on alert. No one exits or enters the outer bailey wall unless I personally grant permission."
Alec issued a nod, and swiftly relayed his orders to the four warrior escorts. After mounting his horse, he waited patiently for the laird.
The laird clasped his hands behind his back, and stood watching his warriors withdraw. After the men disappeared from sight, he stood there for a long moment lost in thoughtful contemplation. “I had thought to hear from Tristan by now,” he said, finally. “I know him well. He agreed to go on this journey, but he was displeased with the mission. At best, he sorely doubts the second charm exists.” Sighing deeply, the laird mounted his horse.
“You know as well as I that Tristan trusts in reason, na’ blind faith,” Alec said. “He may na’ hold with your beliefs, but he respects your judgment and your position. That is why he pledged his fealty to you. Despite his misgivings, he will carry out your wishes to the best of his ability. If the charm indeed exists, he will find it and bring it to you."
“Aye, he has always honored me. But, at times, I fear I expect too much from him."
“Tristan will na’ fail you."
“He's a fine warrior, indeed.” The laird urged his mount slowly forward, then halted before the gate.
Alec followed. “'Tis so, indeed. Tristan is a fine warrior. But, he will succeed solely because it goes against his nature to fail."
“Aye, ‘tis so.” The laird chuckled. “'Tis so, indeed. I'm thinking we will hear from him soon. And, ‘twill be good news.” With a renewed sense of certainty, he called for the guards on the wall to raise the gate.
When Alec and the laird entered the courtyard, however, a gust of cold air whipped about them. Sensing an unwelcome presence, the laird cast a suspicious glance over his shoulder. He spied nothing unusual, only his men. But he was left with the queer sensation that he was being watched. Black Magic, indeed?
* * * *
Lochinver Keep
Two white birds landed on the window ledge in the tower room. Galynne readily accepted their meager gifts of roots, berries and herbs. After hungrily popping some of the berries into her mouth, she hid the remaining provisions in the long sleeve of her gown. “So very thankful I am,” she whispered to the birds. Then she heard the familiar, hollow sound of boots clacking against the stone steps, as several men ascended the tower stairwell. “You must be off, now. Quickly. And have a care.” She shooed the birds away.
Keys jangled momentarily, then the lock clicked open. Finally the large chamber door creaked and groaned as it was forced fully open. The two guardsmen kept their eyes averted to the ground and remained in the hall, each moving to stand off to opposite sides.
Desruc advanced and leaned casually against the doorframe, his blonde hair and strikingly pale skin a stark contrast to the black hose, matching thigh-length over-tunic, and mantle he wore. The dark circles under his beady eyes only served to emphasize his pallid, disfigured complexion.
Galynne's stomach churned as he leered at her from across the tower room.
“An interesting development, my pet.” Desruc smiled arrogantly.
“I could na’ care less about what you have to say, you ... you Viper.” Turning to face the tower portal, she trained her eyes on a clear patch of blue sky.
“That's, My Lord Viper, to you!” Desruc paused. He cleared his throat, as if consciously regaining his composure. “But ... I'll overlook your refusal to address me as such, for now. I'm feeling overly tolerant today. Ah, yes, I'm entirely too pleased with myself to let you anger me.” He entered the room.
Turning slowly, Galynne fixed him with her most menacing glare and inhaled deeply, her bosom rising slowly as she fought to control her pent up rage.
“Behave yourself, Galynne,” Desruc warned. “The fact that I entered this chamber should tell you that my news is of great concern to you. I suggest you temper yourself, for I finally have the upper hand.” Desruc drew nearer and reached out with his right hand, to stroke Galynne's cheek.
She remained deathly still.
When Desruc's fingers connected with her skin, he flinched as if experiencing a biting jolt of pain. “You bitch!” His left hand rose instinctively to strike her. “Do that again and Kendahl dies a slow agonizing death.” His arm trembled as he issued the threat.
Galynne didn't flinch or cower, she simply held his gaze. “You speak nonsense. Kendahl died eighteen years ago when you attacked us and brought me here. I grieve his loss every day, as I do the loss of me son. The only reason I have na’ destroyed you yet is because—."
“Because, you can't!” Desruc's fingers closed into a tight fist. Instead of striking her, however, he breathed deeply and lowered his hand to his side. “Ah yes, when I first captured you, your powers were already weak due to your infirmed condition. But thanks to my potions they've grown steadily weaker. Though you've managed to retain some of your more annoying talents, they've proven to be more of a bother than a threat.” He boldly reached for her chin.
Galynne jerked away this time, moving just out of his reach. “Touch me again, and I'll—"
“Zap me again, and I'll punish Kendahl severely—before I kill him!” Desruc's eyes sparkled wickedly as his clenched hands trembled with apparent restraint. “Ah, yes. We did get off the subject didn't we?” Flexing his fingers, he squared his shoulders. “The game has changed, most significantly."
“Kendahl lives na', for if he did, I would feel—"
“Feel his presence?” Desruc scoffed, and began to pace. “I fear not. You see, you've spent a great deal of your power hiding the girl child from me all these years.” He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. His hooded gaze seemed casual, but Galynne knew he was scrutinizing her reaction.
“Girl child?” She asked, trying to conceal her frantic emotions.
“Nice try, but not quite good enough,” Desruc taunted. “I always know exactly what you're thinking when I look into the depths of those telling green pools. Why, the love you hold in your heart for your dear daughter is almost as apparent as the hate you reserve for me.” He began pacing again. “While cloaking is a fascinating feat, it also drains you, Galynne. Ah yes, I've learned much about your powers. Thanks to some simple herb mixtures, you'll never again be the vital sorceress you once were.” Desruc stopped to stare out the window. “I assure you, Kendahl lives, and very soon he will help bring the girl to me."
“You speak lies. If Kendahl truly lived, he would find you and kill you for what you've done to me."
“Mayhap. If he remembered his past, that is. You see, he recalls nothing. Not even his own identity. And, how do I know this, you ask?” Desruc chuckled and leaned against the marble sill. “While your powers have grown weaker, mine have increased. In fact, I've seen Kendahl in my crystal. Apparently the blow that he received to his head during the invasion was not lethal. However, it did damage his brain rather nicely.” A smug grin curled his thin lips. “He knows not of you, his daughter or of his dead, infant son. He also has no memory of me or of our past together. This will make befriending him very easy, and killing him quite delightful. Why, just moments ago he met with my messenger and agreed to grant me an audience."
“He will destroy you!"
Forming his lips into a pout, Desruc shook his with mock sorrow. “So sorry that I must be the bearer of bad tidings, but the girl is the only one left who can destroy me, now.” He licked his lips as if savoring a tasty morsel. Next he frowned, a look of pensive reflection creasing his brow as he seemed to become lost
in his own thoughts. “She does have the amulet. But in order to defeat my black magic she still needs the alder wand from the Fin-gaels’ cave, the sword of Nuada, and full control of her powers."
Several moments passed in silence before Desruc returned his full attention to Galynne. “You should also know that the girl is no longer shielded. Izebeth did manage to elude me during the attack. She also kept the girl well guarded all these years. But Izebeth is gone now. I'm certain. The child has been left unprotected.” Desruc grinned. “Well, not completely, but her new guardian is a mere obstacle. I know him almost as well as I know myself, and I'm looking forward to punishing him—again."
Galynne raised her chin defiantly. “I do na’ believe you."
“My sweet, stubborn, Galynne. Your powers are failing. Soon you won't even be able to cause simple mischief.” Desruc turned his back to her and walked to the door.
“Then why na’ simply slay me now and have it done with?” Galynne charged.
Desruc glanced over his shoulder. “Unfortunately, you still hold some value. The girl searches for you, so I need to keep you around a while longer. Besides, I've waited all these years to bed you. Once I have the girl, you'll have no choice but to come to me. It's inevitable. You could save everyone some time and trouble. Come to me willingly, now, and I will consider sparing your daughter's life."
“To Hell with you,” Galynne spat at Desruc.
A small spark ignited the hem of his cape, but Desruc slapped the material with his hands. He quickly doused the meager flame, then shot her a haughty look. “Is that the best you can do? Poor Galynne, it will not be long at all, now, will it? I will have the vengeance I seek. Including the bittersweet pleasure of your lithe body writhing beneath me. I also plan to plant my seed in the girl. Why, the child we create together will be all-powerful indeed."
Galynne rose unsteadily to her feet. “If you harm her, I'll ... I'll...” she paused as the room began to whirl, spinning about her in a dizzying blur.
“You're in no position to make threats, Galynne. You can barely stand on your own two feet. Use what's left of your powers to call the girl to me and maybe, just maybe, I'll be lenient with Kendahl."
“Never!” Galynne swayed, then crumpled to the floor in a heap. The sound of Desruc's evil laughter echoed through the tower-room, then her mind went black.
* * *
Chapter Eleven
Dingle, Ireland
Seerah began to tremble, then her body grew rigid. “Dear God!"
Tristan tensed instinctively. “What's wrong?"
“I felt something ... something very cold and dark pass through me. It was unearthly, indeed, as if a wicked entity touched me soul,” Seerah whispered, her voice quivering slightly.
Sensing the sincerity and depth of her fear, Tristan tightened his hold on her. He glanced back over his shoulder, allowing his gaze to sweep the surrounding area. “I see nothing amiss."
“'Tis nothing you can see—careful, you'll squash Cosmo.” Seerah squirmed to loosen Tristan's grip. “'Twas was more a ... a feeling. Aye, ‘tis certain I am, that this dark energy is a warning.” Lifting her leather pouch onto her lap, she opened the flap and peeked inside. “Be you all right Cosmo? Did you feel it too?"
Cosmo climbed out of the pouch and scurried up Seerah's arm to her neck.
“He can na’ ride there. Put him back in the pouch, now.” Tristan ordered.
“See the way his fur stands straight up?” Seerah asked. “He senses something, too. Besides, he needs fresh air."
“The needs of your rat be of no concern to me."
“Ferret,” Seerah muttered. “We've been traveling for many hours. I'd be grateful for a wee rest meself. Please?"
Tristan knew she must be exhausted, but he remained silent. Her needs were not his concern, only her safety. The needs of his men, however, were another matter. And Gareth was not yet back to full strength.
Seerah sighed heavily. “What of your men and their needs? Gareth is looking pale and weary."
Tristan didn't reply; he was too stunned by the way she'd just voiced his own thoughts. Not that he believed that she could read his mind. Her assumption was simply an uncanny coincidence. Wasn't it?
“I fear that riding the way you have, has exhausted him unduly."
Her voice had gone all soft with emotion, and Tristan couldn't help noticing the warm look in her eyes as she gazed at Gareth. Her apparent desire was obvious to Tristan. Her attraction to Gareth seemed almost natural though. After all, women were always drawn to Gareth's good looks and charming nature. Envy pricked Tristan's nerves, surprising him. Though he'd never been left wanting for female companions, most of his past experiences had been based purely on physical need and pleasure. Since Catrin, no woman had ever gazed at him with such clear, heart-felt emotion. And he didn't want them to—or did he?
Of course na'! Tristan shook off the queer notion. He didn't want such complications. That was why he sought out lustful encounters with experienced, willing lasses who asked only a coin or two for their efforts. It was worth the price to avoid the emotional games he was unwilling to play, and the promises of love he was unable to give. Since Catrin, he'd always made a conscious effort to avoid such trappings. Watching Seerah gaze at Gareth now, however, Tristan could only wonder what it would be like to win her heart. And for the first time in his life he experienced a deep sense of resentment towards Gareth.
Why? Because Tristan knew that one day Gareth would marry for love. But love was something Tristan could not, and would not afford himself. At least, not until the revenge he sought, was his. And he would have revenge, no matter what the cost; he had spent too many years tracking his enemy to forget now. He'd also spent many long nights planning the slow, agonizing torture that he would inflict on the murdering bastard; bitter-sweet dreams of revenge had driven Tristan this far, and he'd decided long ago that he would sell his soul to the Devil for the privilege. Mayhap he already had; he wasn't sure anymore.
The one thing Tristan was certain of was that no doe-eyed, contrary lass was going to get in his way. Let her try to beguile Gareth with her enticing ways. She obviously finds him more to her liking. Suddenly, a vivid image developed in his mind; he saw Gareth and Seerah lying tangled together, in a lover's embrace.
“Must you hold me so tight?” Seerah said. “Tristan!"
Tristan merely grunted.
“I had little to eat this morn, but if you insist on squeezing me about me middle, so, you will soon see for yourself!” She smacked his forearm, dragging him from his thoughts.
Tristan scowled at his foolish behavior and hesitantly relaxed his hold. Next, glancing from Gareth to Colin, Tristan noticed that Gareth's coloring was, indeed, pasty. His bearing also seemed unusually lax. Tristan immediately slowed his mount's pace and whistled through his teeth. As he directed the horse toward a thicket, Gareth rode up along side of Tristan.
“Why are we stopping, now? We've barely traveled far at all."
Tristan knew that admitting his concern for Gareth's well-being would be a grave insult, so he looked off to the left as if scrutinizing the forest. “Seerah needs a break. She is na’ used to riding for such long periods. ‘Tis also a good place to steer off the main road for a while, just in case we're being followed."
“'Twill take twice as long to reach Gairloch,” Colin grumbled.
“Aye.” Greum and Gareth agreed.
“But it will also be safer, for now.” Tristan dismounted and helped Seerah down.
“We're being followed then?” Zeth asked.
Sarah spoke up then, “I felt—"
“Weary, we know.” Tristan cut Seerah off, silencing her with a cold look. “Go see to your needs and have something to eat. When we mount again, we'll ride until we gain Killarney, County Kerry."
“Killarney be a far distance,” Seerah protested.
“Aye. So do whatever you need to do, and do it quickly,” Tristan commanded.
“Aye, aye, Sir Tris
tan the Barbarian,” Seerah mocked. When she turned her back to him, Cosmo leapt from her shoulder to the forest floor and scampered away. “Cosmo! Cosmo, come back!"
“I will na’ wait on your rat,” Tristan informed.
“Ferret! Ugh!” Clenching her hands at her sides, Seerah stomped off through the forest after Cosmo.
Zeth, Colin and Greum sat on the ground and unpacked the fresh cheese and bread Lilybet had sent with them. Only Gareth walked along side of Tristan, who was now following through the woods after Seerah.
“What troubles you Tristan?” Gareth asked.
“Only one thing. And, right now, she's about to get herself lost in the woods,” Tristan muttered, and stormed through the underbrush.
“Aye,” Gareth said. “What exactly do you make of her?” he panted.
“I know na’ what you be asking me."
“You do na’ believe her. I know you well, Tristan. The Devil himself could appear and you would call it trickery. Why, you still have yet to admit that God graced our victory over Nevil and his men. We were sorely outnumbered when I was struck down, and I was certain it was the end."
“So?"
“So? Do you na’ find it strange the way the mist suddenly encompassed us, blinding Nevil and his men? It clearly allowed us the advantage to retreat."
“Our fighting was superior,” Tristan said. “We had already cut Nevil's forces by half when you were wounded. And you must have hit you head harder than I thought, for we did na’ retreat in the mist—they did."
“Mayhap. But, our mission was to find the charm, and we've done that. A feat we all believed to be futile, I might add. Why did you bring Seerah along? You could have easily relieved her of the charm. There was no need—"
“I say there was."
“Ah.” Gareth halted. Bracing his hands on his hips, he bent slightly at the waist to catch his breath. “Just as I suspected. You fancy her, then. Well, she's is rather comely. Be-witching, I'd say.” He chuckled.
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