by Ann Lawrence
The kiss exploded. He lost his grip on her, and she slid down his body, their lips never breaking apart, his empty bowl dangling from her fingertips. Their tongues thrust and parried in an ancient game. Kered lifted her and carried her to his bed. With a speed that astonished her, he stripped them both.
Maggie pushed him over onto his back and leaned over him. She placed the alabaster bowl on his broad chest and dipped a finger into the remaining pool of melted ice cream. Boldly, she grinned, and as his turquoise eyes widened in surprise, she drew her wet fingertip over the tip of his arousal. “Now, let me explain a Popsicle to you,” she whispered.
She had just bent her head to him when the door burst open. Men poured across the room and snatched Kered from her arms before a scream could escape her throat. It took four men to subdue him and two others to bind him. It took but one man to hold Maggie still. He bent her arm behind her back until pain streaked through her shoulder like a hot knife.
“I see you have readied your slave for me,” Samoht said as he strolled in with three other warriors. Each man wore a black tunic embroidered over the breast with a red rose. Maggie knew instantly that this was personal treachery and not the doing of the council, for Samoht had brought only his own guard and none of the Tolemac sentries.
She tried to ease her posture, only to have her arm jerked higher behind her.
“I will kill you for this!” Kered snarled, heaving against the men who held him, trying to break free of the thick ropes that bound his wrists behind his back. They forced him to his knees.
Samoht snapped his fingers and a warrior drew forth a pathetic figure. Maggie gasped. The man’s mouth gaped, toothless, in a swollen pulp of bruised tissue. From the ends of his sleeves, his hands hung limp, his fingers twisted into grotesque shapes.
“Do you recognize this man? Either of you?” Samoht asked, pulling the man before Kered.
Kered shook his head. “No, should we?”
Maggie didn’t know how Kered could sound so calm. Then she saw his arms. His muscles bulged against his arm rings. The tendons on his neck popped beneath his skin. Her teeth chattered. She bit her lip to clamp down her fear.
Samoht shook his head sadly. “This man knows you both—well. He is a N’Olavan guard. He came skulking to me behind the council’s back, seeking a reward in exchange for information. As you can see, I have tested this man quite strenuously to verify his story. I could not shake him on a single detail. Most happily, I have persuaded him to tell his story without monetary reward.” Samoht flung the man back against a waiting Red-rose warrior. “Such a pity he is not up to repeating his story to you just now.”
“What do you want?” Kered snarled, heaving against his guards. They grappled a moment, lost their grip, then regained their hold.
Samoht stormed across the room, snatching down the sacred sword from where it hung on display against the stone wall. He pressed the tip to Kered’s skin, piercing it and sending a stream of blood running down his chest. “This man accuses you of using witchery to obtain the cup. How do you answer?”
Kered snorted with derision. Samoht slashed the sword across Kered’s shoulder, flaying a strip of skin several inches wide. Blood welled across the patch of raw flesh. Maggie screamed.
Samoht smiled, wheeled about, and crossed to the bed. He leaned down. His light-blue eyes seemed half-crazed as they sought hers. “Are you a witch? If so,” he whispered so only she could hear, “cast a spell and free him.”
“Why are you doing this?” She gasped.
A commotion made Samoht turn away. Two guards scrambled to hold Kered still. He had gained his feet. Samoht kicked Kered in the thigh. Maggie moaned as the blow sent him back to his knees. Samoht tossed the sacred sword to the ground and drew his dagger, moving close to Kered, turning his blade side to side.
“This man claims your slave pointed at the N’Olavan temple guards and then cast a sleeping spell on them. How do you answer these accusations?”
Kered spat at Samoht’s feet. Samoht touched the blade to the birthmark on Kered’s right breast, etching a circle in the already blood-matted hair. “A pity you have nothing to say.”
Carefully, as if he wished to prolong the moment, Samoht ran the edge of his knife down Kered’s ribs, separating skin from flesh. When he reached Kered’s waist, he smiled at Maggie. “Is there something important here you would miss should it be removed?” With a deft flick of his wrist he slanted the blade down Kered’s thigh, scoring him in half a dozen places.
Maggie battled to remain as silent and unmoved as Kered. Samoht frowned, then stalked to her side. “Let this black-haired fornitrix go.” The guard released her, and Maggie groaned at the burn of pain as she tried to straighten her arm. With shaky hands, she drew the silky sheets up to shield her body from the warriors’ avid interest.
“Men, take the N’Olavan guard back to his cell. When I have examined this slave myself, I will call for him. Stand guard beyond the door.”
“This warrior is dangerous. He could escape with ease,’’ one Red-rose warrior protested.
“He will be suitably complaint should he wish his slave to live through her examination.” Samoht lifted a lock of Maggie’s hair and used his dagger to sever it. He held it high and chuckled. “See this? Should she be a problem, I will flay another strip from him and perhaps the sight of his blood will settle her down…and him.” Samoht sent his men away. He slid the bar into place.
“What is the purpose in this? You will suffer grievous censure for this behavior,” Kered snarled.
“Will I?” Samoht strode to where Kered knelt. He fastened a rope between Kered’s wrists and ankles, making it impossible for him to stand. “‘Twill be a pity when the council learns that their favored man has lain with a witch.”
“I’m not a witch,” Maggie cried. She slipped her hand beneath the pillows, searching for the game gun she kept there for protection. Her hands met nothing but smooth, cool silk.
“Sit still, slave, or he will suffer.” Samoht bent over Kered like a lover to give him a kiss. He slowly drew his blade along Kered’s temple, and down his cheek, leaving a red welling of blood in its path. “All my life, you have gotten what I want. Einalem. The council’s admiration. I may sit in the high councilor’s seat, but ‘tis you they listen to. I have finally found your weakness. How long can your power last if all believe a witch gained the cup?”
Maggie moved slowly, edging toward the foot of the bed.
“And if ‘tis true and we know witchery? How can you protect yourself from us?” Kered asked.
Samoht pressed the point of his dagger to Kered’s lips to silence him. “If I truly believed in witchery, would I come here alone?”
Samoht turned to Maggie. She froze. “Get back on the bed, slave.”
Kered jerked his head away from the knife. “You will never be able to explain this brutality. Your days as a councilor are numbered,” Kered said, blinking to clear the blood from his eyes.
“Are they? I think not. You see, I have but to explain that you were ensorcelled by this slave. I will say you then lost your senses. ‘Twas necessary, I shall say, to end your poor suffering at this wicked woman’s hands. Who is to know what transpired here? There will be no witnesses.”
Samoht tested Kered’s bonds, then stripped naked. He had a runner’s lean body and exuded an invincible air. “Einalem might miss you—but I will comfort her.” Samoht stood at the foot of the bed. “Before I kill you, Kered, you will wish that you were dead…and so shall your lovely little fornitrix. Come, slave. Cast your spell if you have one. Else get on your back or he suffers.”
Kered already suffered. Blood ran down his thighs and pooled about his knees. Maggie turned from one man to the other. Somehow she had to save Kered. She realized that Samoht would never release either of them. “Please, a moment,” she begged. “One moment with him.”
Samoht laughed, turning to Kered as he tossed his blade from hand to hand. “I have wanted your slave since the b
athhouse, and now I shall have her. Yet I do not begrudge her one last moment with you. Say your piece, witch. If I am pleased with your performance perhaps I shall hear your pleas for his release—to quick death.”
Maggie slipped around Samoht to Kered. Never had she felt so exposed, so powerless. The candle’s glow glinted off the blade as Samoht continued to play with it. She cupped Kered’s face. The agony she saw there frightened her. It was not physical agony, it was agony of impotence. He would die trying to free himself. Even now, sweat and blood ran down his face and body.
“Ker, hear me.” She tipped up his head until his beautiful eyes, so filled with pain, looked into hers. “Hear me, please. Close your eyes, shut your ears. Don’t hear this, don’t watch it. It means nothing. He can’t really touch me. Whatever happens, it won’t be me lying there. I’ll be somewhere else. He won’t touch me where it matters—in my heart. I couldn’t bear it if you suffered one scratch more over this. Let it be done.”
He tried to break from her grasp. “No, Kered,” Maggie insisted. “You must hear me. Close your eyes, close your ears.” She drew his head forward and cupped his face to force him to listen. His blood flowed warm on her hands.
“The gun. Under the bed…card box. Save yourself,” he whispered. She swallowed and nodded.
“Now, slave.” Samoht yanked her away and flung her on the bed. Then he reared back. “Hm, I do not believe Kered can see quite well enough from there.” He jerked her to her knees and pushed her to the cold stone floor, face down beside the bed. Maggie stifled a scream and tried not to let her revulsion show, for Kered had gone wild against his bonds. He would die for her, and she couldn’t bear it.
Samoht tried to pry her legs apart. She fought him, inching forward to the edge of the bed and the black shadows beneath, her fingers stretching out, seeking the gun. If only she could reach it! She groaned as Samoht’s hands clawed at her thighs. She lurched away, arms outstretched.
Her fingers touched the box of cards. Frantically, with Samoht’s breath hot on her neck as he leaned over her, she ripped it open. The contents spilled, her pendant rolling away, the cards scattering. Her fingers searched and found the gun. She brought it up, twisting in Samoht’s punishing grasp. Her eyes had only a moment to focus at his flushed face. She pressed the red button.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Samoht’s head disappeared.
His torso, not understanding, remained upright on its knees, shaft erect and pulsing for a brief instant, then the body crashed to the ground, spraying blood in all directions.
Maggie began to shake. It started in her hands and traveled to encompass her whole being. With cold deliberation, she ignored the tremors, rose, and picked up Samoht’s bloody knife, the one he’d used so brutally to carve flesh from Kered’s body. She slit Kered’s bonds, taking him against her like a mother gathers her child to comfort him. His hot breath bathed her chest as he leaned against her and gathered his strength.
He rose and took the gun from her fingers. He needed to pry them open. “Thank you, Maggie, you saved my life.” He gasped. Carefully, he touched her cheek. “Did he hurt you?”
She shook her head. He was bleeding from half a dozen places and yet asked if she was hurt. Maggie flung herself into his arms. “I killed a councilor,” she cried.
“You saved us from a painful death.” Kered set her aside and stood by Samoht’s still-quivering body. “I would have torn his head from his body with my bare hands if I had gotten free.”
Maggie swallowed and nodded. “I’m glad he’s dead. He deserved to die the moment he put that knife to you.”
“Come. Quickly. Dress.” Kered tossed her gown to her.
“Wh-wh-what are we going to do?” she stuttered as she pulled the silky cloth over her head and wrapped a cord belt about her waist.
Kered lifted the gun. He sighted on Samoht’s corpse and fired. Samoht’s remains vaporized in an instant. “Now he is missing. His men may search forever, but he is gone without a trace.” He aimed at the thick streamers of blood that splattered the walls and floor. Slowly, using a sweeping motion, he used the invisible destruction to begin erasing the gory display. After a few minutes he turned to her. “It is not working.”
Maggie stared about. She remembered how the gun had destroyed stone when they fought the Wartmen. If the weapon was functioning properly, surely not only the blood but also the stone floors and walls should be affected, too. Maggie took the gun and did as he had, alternating between red and blue and pointing directly at a splotch of gore by her feet. Nothing happened.
“I’ll clean it; maybe it’s clogged,” she said, moving to the washbasin.
“Maggie, we haven’t time.” Kered spoke softly, touching her arm. The blood had dried in a twisted pattern like snakes writhing along his forearm. “The gun has lost its power.”
She hit it repeatedly against her palm. “No. It can’t be. We need it.”
Kered stood before his washbasin and rinsed the blood from his wounds. “Accept it, the weapon is useless. Come help me, Maggie.”
Maggie stuffed the game gun into her belt. “What are we going to do?” She quickly mixed the gray herbal and smoothed it on the worst of his wounds, then bandaged them. She began to cry as blood soaked through the salve and continued to run in rivulets along his leg.
He gathered her against him and hugged her. “Do not weep. When Samoht tired of you, he would have presented that pathetic N’Olavan guard with his story of spell casting and the council would have tried you as a witch. They burn witches here, Maggie. The High Priest would examine you first, with unimaginable torture, and then they would burn you.”
Maggie pulled back. “I’m weeping for us. For you. How can we explain all this blood? His guards know he was with us. They’ll know we did something to him.”
“There is no time for this speculation. You are right about one thing—Samoht’s men will return. We must be gone from here.”
Maggie followed him to his cupboards.
Kered drew clothing from a shelf and dressed. He laced on buff breeches and a leather jerkin. Blood stained the bandages on his chest and shoulder. “We will seek Nilrem’s wisdom. Surely, he can think of some solution to this. While we are gone, there will be a frantic hue and cry over Samoht’s disappearance. When it dies down, we will return.”
A cold apprehension settled in Maggie’s stomach. “It isn’t that simple, is it?”
Kered’s only answer was to strap on his sword belt, then he sheathed a long knife at his thigh and slipped a boot knife into place. He knelt before her, slipped his hands under her gown, and strapped a knife sheath to her upper leg. Maggie knew this arming signaled disaster.
They climbed out Maggie’s window, dropping to the ground and using shadows to make their way to the barracks. Because Kered’s facial wounds were bleeding again, Maggie knocked and asked the sentry to summon Vad.
Vad appeared like an avenging angel in the lighted door, a fierce frown on his face. “I have not hired a fornitrix tonight! Be gone!” he ordered angrily.
Maggie stepped into the light. “Vad, it’s me. Maggie.” She whirled from the door before he could answer and hurried to where Kered waited at the side of the building, away from the torchlight illuminating the barracks doorway.
“Maggie!” Vad joined her in the shadows and his voice rose when he saw Kered. “By the sword! I thought you would never get here. I sent Tol hours ago.”
“Tol?” Kered stepped into the light. Vad gasped at Kered’s appearance. His cloak covered his wounds everywhere but his face. The thin, bloody line across brow and cheek stood out starkly in the bright orb-glow. “Why send Tol to me?”
“First—who did this to you?” Vad placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Kered winced under Vad’s heavy hand. “No one gets close enough to cut you without some treachery.”
“Aye. ‘Twas Samoht’s treachery. He attacked Maggie. Accused her of witchery.”
“I assume he is lying bloody somewhere if
you are any indication of the battle,” Vad said.
“Samoht is dead. Thank the gods for Maggie’s gun. There will be no body to deal with.” The two men took each other’s measure in silence. “And now, Tol?”
“Have you not heard? The men bringing our second delivery of ice were attacked on the way through Selaw land. All drivers and members of the escort were massacred. Samoht called for instant retaliation. My army has been mustered to depart at dawn. Tol was to have summoned you to a special council session. The Selaw representatives swear they are not responsible and promise all-out war if we retaliate in kind without investigating this matter more thoroughly.”
“Damn Samoht! What could he have been thinking to have picked such a moment to attack me?” Kered slammed his fist into the wall of the barracks.
“Don’t you see, Ker, he did it deliberately. With you out of the way, who would support the Selaw emissaries?” Maggie interjected, pulling her own cloak close against the chill of fear that enveloped her.
“Maggie has it aright,” Vad said. “There can be no delay in quelling what will be a bloody retribution.”
“I will not be here to help,” Kered said. Maggie and Vad stared at him, gape-mouthed.
“I-I don’t understand,” Maggie stuttered. “You must help!”
“I must return you to Nilrem’s mountain,” he retorted.
“What are you saying? How can you think of leaving when the wars you fought to end are starting up again?” Maggie’s disbelief hardened her tone.
“Maggie.” Kered gently cupped her face. “Samoht’s men will come for you. We could not hide the carnage in my chamber. When Samoht cannot be found, his men will accuse you—they have the perfect witness, that hapless N’Olavan guard. Do you think he will not take the opportunity to barter his life for yours? Whatever crisis exists for the Selaw, your life is my priority.”
She swallowed at the finality of his tone.
Vad, however, was not so easily silenced. “You cannot leave. ‘Tis madness. Who will speak in your stead? Who will temper Ronac’s marauding instincts?”