VirtualDesire

by Ann Lawrence

  “Have you no idea, Mistress Ardra,” Enec asked, “what it means when a warrior has no sword?”

  Ardra locked eyes with Gwen and shook her head. Gwen fought to keep her expression neutral. She had never questioned why Vad had no sword. No one had swords in Ocean City.

  “It means he is a traitor. Tolemac strips traitors of their swords. They inscribe their names in the rolls of infamy and display their weapons for all to see. For him to be so close to our border, with no weapon, means he is an outcast. Fair game. Perhaps even with a weighty reward on his head. Listen!”

  They all stood in silence. Gwen’s every muscle quivered. The river sounds, the rustling of small creatures in the ferns and vines, the soughing of boughs in the wind was all Gwen could hear. But it was obvious the men sensed something. They stood alert, eyes wide, heads swinging to and fro from riverbank to forest growth, bows aimed at the water—except Enec. He kept his bow and his beautiful eyes trained on Gwen’s chest.

  Ardra moved closer to Gwen. “This one is naught but an innocent pawn in men’s games.”

  “Hand over the knife. Now.” This time Enec did not wait for an answer. He fired. The arrow hissed through the air, penetrated Gwen’s hem, and buried itself deeply in the ground.

  “Next time I aim for your breast. Now, Mistress Ardra, take the knife and bring it here.” He stepped slowly from the boat and stood, his legs braced in the knee-deep water.

  With wide, frightened eyes, Ardra thrust out a trembling hand.

  Gwen shook her head and put the dagger behind her. Vad erupted from the water like an ancient water god, spraying a silver cascade in a huge wave behind him.

  Blind Eye threw aside his bow. A knife appeared in his hand. Its curved blade flashed red in the sunlight as if dripping blood as he raised it overhead. Vad moved in a blur. Blind Eye screamed. He fell forward, hands clutching his middle. Vad tipped the boat. It rocked, but Greasy Hair managed to raise his bow.

  Vad jerked his long blade from Blind Eye’s belly and swung his arm in a short arc. Greasy Hair turned in surprise. He looked down at his chest, then collapsed over his friend.

  Enec charged Gwen, knocked her flat, stepped on her wrist, and plucked the jeweled dagger from her fingers. He turned and lunged for Vad. Vad fought with savage grace. He was taller than Enec, his reach longer, his blade heavier and more deadly. Enec parried, thrusted, then incongruously backed off again and again in a confusing cycle of fight and flight.

  Vad mirrored each move in an ancient deadly dance Gwen knew he’d done before. He was who he said he was, a warrior, bred to fight—nothing more.

  Men feared to fight him lest they harm an angel of God. The ancient legend came back to her. She saw the words on the page, and the stylized illustration of an angel fighting at King Arthur’s side. Vad was Sandav, or a descendent of that ancient knight. The evidence of what he represented was before her eyes.

  Each twist that turned his scarred side toward Enec’s beautiful eyes brought a vicious, slashing attack. Each turn that presented his unblemished cheek sent Enec stumbling back, half-crouched in indecision. Ardra shrieked and cried out for them to halt. Gwen inched to where a bow lay in the mud. She lifted it.

  “Stop,” Ardra cried, clutching Gwen’s sleeve. It ripped at the shoulder. “You will harm someone.”

  “Vad needs help.” She dodged the men, skirted the bodies, and drew an arrow from a quiver on the boat deck.

  She nocked the arrow. The bow seemed to weigh a ton and trembled in her hands as she lifted it and aimed. The string resisted her efforts to draw it. Her arms shook.

  Vad turned. He saw her. With a low laugh, he leaped into the boat and out again on the other side, callously stepping on one body in the process, and snatched the armed bow from her hands. The arrow flew.

  “Enec!” Everyone froze. Ardra’s scream echoed down the river. Gwen stared at her, shocked by the unexpected anguish in Ardra’s voice and etched on her face. Was Enec more than just a servant to the Selaw woman?

  The two warriors stood still, gazes locked on one another. The jeweled dagger fell from Enec’s hand. He fell with a soft splash into the water.

  Ardra ran to the riverbank. “Enec!” she cried, but he had drifted, facedown, out into the current. In moments he disappeared. “No. Oh, no.” Her distress touched Gwen. How must she feel knowing her father’s men had betrayed her, especially if Enec was more than just an escort?

  “What will we do?” Gwen whispered.

  “Remain with Ardra. I will go along the bank and see if he survived.” He lifted the quiver of arrows from the boat. “Are you injured?”

  She shook her head. “I-I-I’m all right.”

  Ardra half rose from her knees, her eyes on Vad’s bow. “You plan to kill him.”

  “Nay. I will pull him ashore if he yet lives,” Vad said. “Then you may decide his fate.” Vad disappeared into the trees.

  Gwen’s body began to violently shake in reaction to all that had happened. Ardra stood tensely by the boat, her gaze fixed on the spot where Enec had fallen. Abruptly she reached into the water, withdrawing the jeweled knife Enec had dropped.

  Gwen did not know how Ardra could stand so close to the dead men. What if they weren’t actually dead? One glance told her they were—very dead.

  Her head ached from the strain of listening for Vad. All she heard were river sounds and the wind in the trees.

  Biting her lip, not sure what to do, she knelt on a dry patch of grass and peered into the verdant shadows. A rustling sound drew her to her feet. Vad appeared.

  “There is no sign of him,” Vad said gently to Ardra. “Just be grateful he did not harm you or Gwen.”

  “I do not understand what happened. They would have killed you all. Enec has always been…loyal to me,” Ardra said, her eyes still watching the swiftly flowing water.

  Vad lifted Ardra’s chin with his fingertips. “You placed some value on the man?”

  Ardra whipped away from his grasp. “Should we bury these treacherous knaves?” Unlike Gwen, Ardra showed no reluctance to look at the dead men.

  “I think we will give them a water burial. We have not the time nor implements for digging. Say whatever words you want over them now and be done with it.” He began to pile up stones by the boat. Gwen helped him, keeping her eyes averted from the bodies.

  Ardra closed her eyes and touched her breast, then opened them and touched the men on their foreheads. “May you be forgiven for your sins against my house.” But Gwen sensed she was thinking more of the man with the glittering amber eyes than of those lying so silently before her.

  Together Ardra and Vad stuffed stones into the men’s clothing. With some coiled rope from the boat, they wrapped the men securely like bundles of wood. Gwen stood by and tried not to watch.

  When the bodies were prepared, Vad assisted Gwen and Ardra into the boat, then shoved it into the water. The current caught it, pulled it into the center of the river. He carefully rolled each body overboard. They sank quickly, only tiny streams of bubbles marking their passage.

  Gwen swallowed and blinked. I will not be sick, she thought.

  The boat turned, the stern swinging violently toward the bank. Gwen swore.

  “Sit down!” she shouted at Vad and Ardra, who moved about as if on dry land. She hauled the crude sail up and, with motions learned in childhood, secured the line. Stumbling over Vad’s long legs, she jerked her nightgown away from a splinter of wood and grabbed the tiller bar. The boat drifted ever nearer to the shore, and with one eye on the sail, Gwen watched it, willed it to catch the slight breeze.

  Slowly, slowly, the boat responded to her touch. The sail filled. The bow turned. With a nod of satisfaction, she steered the boat into the current.

  Ardra sank to her cushion, her hand wound tightly about Vad’s arm. Blood stained his sleeve. “Are you hurt?” She ran her hand over his arm and up to his shoulder.

  “The blood is that of your men,” Vad said briefly, and touched her hand. “But y
our concern should be for yourself. You are wet, and Enec could have killed you.”

  Ardra shook her head. “But he did not. Perhaps he will survive to repent of his sins.” She stroked Vad’s arm rings.

  Gwen contemplated a tacking maneuver that would probably dump Ardra overboard, but decided she was being childish. So what if she was wetter than Ardra and in nothing but thin cotton, while Ardra had a cloak as well as a heavy gown?

  Tears burned in her eyes a moment. She wiped them on her sleeve. She was just tired. That was all it was. She was just tired and cold.

  Ardra did not take Vad’s word for his lack of injury and insisted on rolling up his sleeve. She ran a hand from Vad’s wrist to his shoulder, her fingers lingering and exploring the three engraved arm rings he wore.

  “At least there is now a use for Gwen,” Ardra said when her inspection of his arm was over. She rolled Vad’s sleeve down. “You will want this back.” She handed Vad the jeweled dagger.

  “Aye. ‘Tis a valuable piece. Thank you for saving it.” He made his way to the bow and sat down. He thrust the dagger into his big boot.

  A flash of cold ran through Gwen. It overpowered the chill of her wet nightgown against her legs and hips. It overpowered the uncomfortable longing she’d felt when Ardra had touched Vad.

  Ardra’s words made her feel as if she’d been invisible, useless. Vad’s lack of response hurt more deeply. She wasn’t useless. Why didn’t he come to her defense?

  He tugged off his high boots and emptied them of water. As he pulled them back on, he frowned. “We must assess our supplies. There are only these few blankets to keep us warm. Where did you pass each night on your way here?”

  “There are several settlements along the river. While waiting for Nilrem on the mountain, we suffered the elements. It was proper to do so.”

  He nodded. “Gwen is not garbed to suffer the elements. She needs heavier clothing. Will we reach one of the settlements before the moon-rising?”

  “No, and we must avoid the one that offered us shelter on our outward journey. Surely they will question why my men are…missing. We must make another choice—farther along the river. If Gwen manages the boat properly, we shall be there ere the light fails tomorrow.”

  He nodded. “Then we must find our own shelter this night and seek a settlement on the morrow.” With an intent stare, he asked. “Why did your men attack me?”

  “They said it was because you have no sword.” Ardra kept a wary eye on the boom and crept to where Vad sat in the bow. She positioned her cushion near him and bent her head to his.

  The low sound of their voices barely reached Gwen. The rising wind cut through her nightgown. Her wet feet were numb.

  Gwen realized she might not be useless, but she was invisible.

  The terrain grew more forbidding with each hour on the water. High, sharp rocks lined the bank. The foliage thinned; the trees became bent and gnarled. When Vad directed her to put to shore, Gwen could no longer feel her hands on the tiller or the line controlling the sail.

  The landing was clumsily done, bumping them hard on the riverbank. Vad soaked his boots again when he jumped over and hauled the boat onto the bank. He might have been lazing in the sun all day for the effortless manner in which he swept Ardra into his arms and carried her to the bank.

  He returned for her. Gwen looked at Vad’s outstretched hands. She didn’t think she could rise. She shook her head.

  With a shrug, Vad left her and set about starting the fire. It took Gwen many long moments to straighten and feel able to climb over the side. The thought of putting her feet into the muddy water again made her regret giving Vad the brush-off, but she couldn’t allow him to see how weak she felt.

  Her whole body trembled as she put a leg over the side.

  Vad was there in an instant. He plucked her off the boat and carried her to the fire. “Sit as close to the heat as you can.” He lifted her hem and spread her skirts wide. Without a word, he pulled off her mismatched shoes and rubbed her feet between his large hands. They were warm and gentle.

  Gwen stared wide-eyed at him. “Why are you being nice?”

  “Nice?” His hands stilled. “Ardra and I cannot sail the boat. What use will you be if you sicken?”

  How could she have thought his solicitude meant anything more? Ardra’s men had thought she was a slave. Ardra thought she was a slave. In fact, she had so little worth, Enec had seemed to want the jeweled dagger more than her. So she might as well face the fact that without arm rings, she was a slave to the people of Tolemac and Selaw. How many arm rings Ardra had under her gown and cloak, Gwen didn’t know, but one was enough to relegate Gwen to lowest in the pecking order.

  “I’ll try not to get sick. I wouldn’t want to be a burden.” She pulled her foot out of his hand. Rising, and staggering slightly, she moved to the other side of the fire.

  “What do you mean, you cannot cook?” Vad tried to keep his temper. He felt it surging up from where he kept it hidden and controlled.

  “I really haven’t ever cooked over a fire,” Gwen said. She poked a stick at the row of birds he had snared and laid out at their feet. “I’ve never plucked a bird, either.”

  Vad turned to Ardra. She was also looking at the birds with a puzzled frown on her face. “And you? Do you know the proper manner to roast a bird?”

  “I have a number of women who tend to such things…”

  “By the sword!” Vad dropped to one knee and gutted and plucked the birds.

  The two women were useless. Or almost. Gwen, at least, could sail a boat. He was very impressed. He had never been called upon to learn. Swords he knew. Horses he knew. Not sailing vessels. The skill with which she had handled the boat told him she had learned many conjunctions ago.

  He hoped she had properly dried her gown. Her refusal of help was foolhardy. “We must secure warmer clothing and shoes for Gwen.” He’d seen harsh red blisters on her toes and heels before her fit of pique had taken her to the opposite side of the fire.

  Responsibility for her weighed as heavily as an iron weight about his neck. In truth, he had not just held her hand a moment too long, he had gripped it, locked her fingers so tightly in his, he wondered how he’d not crushed the bones.

  Gwen was frowning at him. What had he done to earn her anger? Other than drag her into a situation fraught with danger and the possibility of death?

  “Shouldn’t we try to find something else to eat?” Gwen asked him.

  “I have some bread!” Ardra said. She stepped daintily to the bank. “But I will surely wet my feet obtaining it.”

  Vad swallowed an oath. He jerked off his boots and stepped into the mud again. How he hated the feel of slime between his toes. They should have spared one of Ardra’s men to fetch and carry for them. In the stern, he found a sturdy painted box.

  When Ardra opened it, she pursed her mouth like someone tasting a disagreeable potion. “The bread is gone! Those greedy men!”

  Of food, there was naught but crumbs and bare bones in the box. However, they would dine in luxury, he saw, as Ardra set out four painted bowls. She unrolled a length of dark red cloth to reveal four each of silver spoons and eating daggers.

  His stomach growled. “Do either of you know the plants that are safe to…”

  They both stared at him wide-eyed. “How do you feed yourselves?” he asked, disgusted.

  “Microwave meals,” Gwen said.

  Ardra gave her a puzzled look. “I do not need to feed myself. My father strove and toiled that I and my children should never need to.”

  “Not too happy, is he?” Gwen said with a nod in Vad’s direction.

  Ardra nodded. “He expects quite a lot from a woman, does he not?”

  He ignored their remarks. He expected little from women. They had a very distinct place—beneath a man. A quick forage among the plants at the river’s edge produced several tubers of a plant he knew well. He washed the green tops, chopped them, and stuffed them beneath the skin of the bi
rds. The thick tubers he wrapped in damp leaves and set among the rocks to bake. His mouth watered as he skewered the birds and began the roasting.

  It was most fortunate that his ban on women servants when his company was on the march had forced this simple learning on him years ago. The alternative had been dining on dried and poorly preserved provisions, or the toleration of serving women constantly pestering him. It had just seemed easier to learn the skill himself.

  “When we have reached a settlement, we will barter the bowls and cutlery for warmer clothing and more arrows,” Vad said. “Then we must be on our way. Neither your maidens—nor my quest—can wait much longer.”

  Ardra stepped into the dark shadows, leaving him alone with Gwen. Her next words were not about the food he prepared. “Maybe we should make a copy of the map. We almost lost it today.”

  “I have it committed to memory. I have no need to reproduce it.”

  “You think I want it for myself, don’t you?” There was a small quaver of anger in her tone.

  “Nay. But the council wants the original, so a copy is useless anyway.”

  “Hmmm. Am I allowed to know about the treasures? Or is that betraying some trust, too?”

  “The legends of the treasures are common knowledge: a sacrificial blade, a whetstone to ready it for the kill, a cloak to warm the body, a caldron to feed the belly.”

  “That’s only four.”

  He poked one of the birds with his blade tip to see if it was ready. “The Seat of Wishes, a game board that predicts the victor in a battle, and the Vial of Seduction. I can only guess that it is the game board the council covets most. Imagine knowing who is going to win a battle before it begins.”

  “Wow. Think of the wasted lives you could save. The council gets the board, and before any battle, they watch it. If they’re the losers, they just don’t fight, right?”

  “Nay. It would merely mean regrouping, reassessing terrain, and so forth to turn the odds, then the playing of another game to see if the outcome had changed.”