VirtualDesire

by Ann Lawrence

  The torchlight wavered as she shook her head and bit her lip.

  “Why not?” he bit out.

  “Gwen…she has been taken by Narfrom.”

  He turned away. All his awareness training vanished like mist over water. His heart plunged into his guts like the river over the falls. How could he have let her go alone to see to the wine? His throat ached as he spoke. “Has she been harmed?”

  “Nay, but according to my father, Narfrom knew her name and said she was from his land. My father is furious with me that I should have purchased a slave who may have a treacherous heart.”

  “Who says her heart is treacherous?” Why did he feel so cold at her words? Narfrom was from Gwen’s land? The implications were staggering.

  Ardra placed a hand on his sleeve. “Is it possible she is not what we think she is?”

  “And what do we think she is? Naught but a woman who has been brought to our lands against her will.”

  “But now she has Narfrom. If he is of her people—”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Would she not cling to her own kind if she found such a person? Would you not do the same in her place? And what did she do with your potion? When I went to tell her which were the funeral casks of wine, she was gone. That was when I discovered she was with Narfrom, but my father made no mention of finding the potion. Now your plans are all for naught, and the potion is gone.”

  Once Narfrom had gone, Gwen tried to coax some information from the Selaw maiden, or at least try to get her to come back to the bed. It took long moments to get even a murmur from her. “How long ‘til he’s back, do you think?” she finally asked.

  “Do you speak his language?” the maiden whispered from her corner.

  “Oh, sure. We’re buds, don’t you know.” She smiled to reassure the girl. “I do not suppose you know of a way out of here?” she finished, making sure to imitate the Brit accent.

  The girl came close, climbing gingerly onto the bed to crouch by Gwen’s side. “We are doomed.”

  “Great. I am chained to a wall with a pessimist.”

  “I am Senga, daughter of Ranoc, a Tolemac councilor.”

  “Nice to meet you. Now, who has the keys to these chains?”

  “Narfrom. He comes with a serving woman to release me each time I eat and need to relieve myself.”

  “You had to say that, didn’t you?” Gwen muttered. All it took was the suggestion and she needed to go. She took a deep breath. “That won’t do.” She jerked on her chains. “Maybe we can pull these out of the wall.”

  Senga made no move when Gwen got on her knees and tugged at the chains, except to repeat her prophecy of doom.

  Gwen frowned. “Now, why take that attitude? We’ll escape.”

  “Nay. You are now a prisoner. There are now eight of us—the sacred number. It is all that was needed—one more maiden to complete the circle. Now we shall all die.” Tears appeared in her soft blue eyes. They rolled silently down her thin cheeks.

  Gwen wiped away her tears with her fingertips. “No, Senga, there are still only seven maidens in the fortress.” She thought of the dream of Vad’s body moving over hers. “I am definitely not a maiden. I have been well and truly bedded.”

  But Senga shook her head. “You do not understand. There is more to maidenhood than whether you have lain with a man. I sense it in you, in the look in your eyes, the way you spoke to Narfrom. It is an innocence in here.” She touched her chest, then her forehead. “It is a purity of mind as well.”

  “Well,” Gwen said, thinking of all her meltdown imaginings about Vad, “rest easy. My mind’s a sewer.”

  Outside, the sky flickered with long forks of light, and thunder rolled.

  Gwen’s jokes didn’t even reassure herself. There was something more than the girl’s insistence that made Gwen think, purity or not, they were all doomed.

  There was no one to put Vad’s potion in the wine.

  A wave of dizziness made Vad lean on the bow he held in his hand. If Narfrom was from Gwen’s land, had he not access to the mysterious weapons that put men to sleep and burned holes in rock? How frail his own weapons were against such a wonder.

  He looked around at the magnificent walls of nature that had stood for thousands of conjunctions. Could Narfrom cut his way through them with but a single use of that mysterious weapon?

  But, strange weapon or not, he had promised to rescue the maidens. “We will continue as planned and assume Gwen was taken before she could act. If we can get to her, she can tell us where the potion is.” He dropped the bow and unbuckled his knife sheath. Then a thought came to him. “Ardra. Gwen’s capture means there are now eight women prisoners. We cannot delay the rescue a moment longer.” Slowly and deliberately, he pulled off his heavy woolen tunic, baring his chest.

  “W-w-what are you doing?” Ardra stuttered, fluttering her hands and backing up, tripping over her hem and sending the remaining bow and arrows clattering to the floor in a cascading racket.

  Vad buckled on his knife and slung the bow across his back. Sweat glistened on his skin, the sweat of fever, though his mind was clear. He spread his arms and bowed. She gave a soft sigh, her eyes riveted to his bare chest. She licked her lips.

  He gave her a grim smile. “What am I doing?” he repeated, unable to keep bitterness from his voice. “I am merely increasing the likelihood that the Tolemac maidens will come to me. One must use the gifts one has.”

  “We have to try to escape. Pull harder,” Gwen said to Senga. Together they tried again to dislodge the iron pin holding their chains to the wall.

  “If you are right and we are not doomed, then should we not just wait for a man to rescue us?” Senga asked.

  “You know, there is not always going to be a man around when you need him. You have to learn to be resourceful on your own.”

  “There are always men around,” Senga said, but she heaved on the chain. “Is not this Vad you told me about somewhere near, waiting for your signal?”

  “Exactly. He is waiting for a signal. One that is never going to come if I do not get free. Now pull!” And he will never trust me again if I fail, she said silently to herself. Gwen hauled harder on the chains. “Damn it!” she swore, then quickly regretted the outburst as the door creaked open.

  Two sentries entered, Ruonail behind them, a ring of keys in his hand.

  “How many guards? And where?” Vad stabbed the fortress plans on the row of chambers where Narfrom was holding Gwen.

  “You still persist in going after her?” she asked.

  “Did you doubt I would?”

  Ardra nodded. “You do not know what awaits you. Gwen may have told Narfrom you are coming.”

  “She has no reason to do so.” He realized he must choose. He must trust Gwen. To believe otherwise put his life and that of the maidens in jeopardy. “I do not think she will betray our plan.”

  “And if threatened with sale? Or losing her tongue?” Ardra persisted.

  “I would imagine it is her tongue that will save her. She will talk her way out of danger.”

  “I do not know what else to say,” Gwen continued. “I told Narfrom everything.” Ruonail sat in a carved wooden chair, in his chamber, the fire roaring, the heat stifling, an impassive expression on his face.

  Ruonail shifted in his seat. “There is a gathering of darkness outside. It began when you arrived.”

  Great. Blamed for the weather.

  “I most respectfully disagree.”

  Ruonail sucked in his breath. “You, a mere woman, a slave, disagree? With me?” He shot to his feet. A tremor ran through his thin body.

  Gwen hastened to placate him. “I mean no disrespect. I spent many hours with your daughter, and she told me of the strange changes in weather, this darkness that has fallen over the fortress. It began before I arrived.”

  Gwen saw on his face an acknowledgement of her words. “What else did my daughter confide in you, a slave?”

  “Her love for you,
” Gwen said softly.

  Silence, save for the crackling of the fire in the hearth and the crack of thunder outside, filled the chamber.

  Narfrom strode in just as Gwen thought Ruonail was about to speak. “All is going well. The feast is about to begin.” Then his steps slowed. “Why is she here?”

  “I wanted to know more of her, of her land—and yours.”

  “We have no time. You must put in an appearance, as we discussed, warn the rest of them what befalls a person who dares turn against one of your family.”

  “Aye. I must offer a warning.” Ruonail’s shoulders seemed bowed with an invisible burden as he left the chamber.

  When he reached the door, Narfrom stopped him. “Ruonail, we have no time to ascertain this slave’s true loyalty. I want to put her to the test.”

  Ruonail nodded. “It would swiftly end the matter.”

  When Ruonail was gone, Narfrom pulled a woolen gown from a coffer and tossed it toward her. “So you charmed your way out of your bracelet?” Narfrom propped himself against a table and crossed his legs at the ankles. The casual stance did not fool Gwen. He still looked like a viper about to strike.

  She ignored the dress. “I didn’t have to use my charm. Ruonail sent for me.” Gwen wished she were beautiful. Maybe then she could charm someone into believing Narfrom was evil. “May I ask you what you want in this world?”

  “Everything.”

  “But you have quite a bit of everything in our world, don’t you?”

  He gave a bitter laugh. “Ah, our world. Too many competitors for the power and wealth. Here I will rule. And when it bores me to do so, I shall simply take a little tax-free wealth home with me.”

  “I thought the Selaw were just recovering from starvation.”

  “But their future is so rosy.” He leaned so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, and gave a quick bark of laughter. “One of the dead men, Enec, he worked for me. He was a…spy of sorts. Did you know the Tolemac councilors have been camping for weeks at our borders to negotiate a lifemating for their head councilor?”

  The way he so easily said our borders told her he had come to think of Selaw as his.

  “Enec’s angelic face allowed him to insinuate himself quite easily in many beds—Tolemac slave beds. The male slaves were happy to help him access the maidens and the females—they talk.”

  “So what? What can they tell you? How many ice cubes fit in a wagon?” Ardra would be heartbroken to know of Enec’s part in the kidnapping of the maidens.

  Narfrom laughed. “You are cheeky. No, this time the slaves told him some very interesting tales of a famous warrior who is seeking a fortune.”

  A cold, sick feeling spread through Gwen. Had Enec guessed who Vad was from the first moment they’d met?

  Vad studied Ardra’s plan of the fortress. The corridor of chambers in which Gwen and the maidens were being held ran east and west. Each end of the corridor had a set of spiral steps linking it to the great hall.

  “You will need to enter from the western end and distract the guards while I enter from the east,” he said. “Do not react to anything I do except as an innocent onlooker. You do not want it to appear that you are aiding me.”

  Ardra led him to a door that opened into a dark alcove. To his right was a set of winding steps. Before him was what he at first thought was a wall, but then realized was a heavy tapestry.

  She indicated a small hole through which a glimmer of light shone. Dust tickled his nostrils as he looked out on the great hall, filled with rows of Selaw mourners. It lacked the opulence of a Tolemac hall. The women were well dressed, but their garments did not have the same richness of embroidery as those of Tolemac free women. There was little conversation, but the hall was still noisy with the sounds of cutlery and servants bustling about.

  He tried to steady his erratic breathing. His heartbeat felt rapid and fluttery in his chest. How much simpler to act if the crowd were moaning and groaning over a hundred chamber pots. He wiped sweat from his brow. Where was Gwen?

  “I don’t get it,” Gwen said softly. Her stomach did a little dance at Narfrom’s smug smile.

  “Don’t you see? I have seven councilors in my power. They will do whatever I want to save their daughters. Surely a daughter is worth changing a few votes, a treaty possibly. Or even donating this fortune the warrior seeks to my retirement fund. I could rule here very soon.”

  “What of Ruonail? Isn’t he ruling?”

  Narfrom waved off her words with a negligent hand. “An old man. When I mate with Ardra, all will accept me as his heir.”

  His eyes glittered with amusement. “Old men die.”

  A shiver ran down Gwen’s spine. So Ardra had it all wrong. He might want to ravish Senga, but his personal designs were on a different maiden. She changed the subject before he realized how much of his plans he’d revealed to her. “Which came first? The game or this world?”

  “This world exists quite independently of the game, my dear. Don’t you understand any of it?” He shoved off the table and began to pace. “I was fifteen when I saw a man disappear. He was dotty, a bumbling cretin who worked for my father’s engineering firm but he had hobbies. Marvelous hobbies to a young man of curiosity—”

  “You,” Gwen interrupted. She was definitely going to die. He was pouring out his every thought much too indiscreetly.

  He nodded. “It took me days to believe in his disappearance, but finally, when he did not rematerialize, I understood I’d witnessed a miracle.” He pounded his fist into his palm. “It took me thirty years to repeat what he’d done. The bastard had encoded his notes. I made several rather disastrous mistakes first—lost a child. Another boy who witnessed the little tragedy started drawing this world a few years later. Luckily that’s all he did as he grew up—draw it. When the time was right, I talked him into making it into an incredible virtual reality experience.” He snorted back a giggle. “Little did he know he was drawing a real place.”

  Abruptly he strode to Gwen’s side and knelt by her. His touch on her cheek was icy cold. “What were you wearing when you disappeared?”

  “Wearing? My nightgown.”

  “Any jewelry?”

  She shook her head. She’d taken off her earrings and her wedding ring. Then she remembered the ring on Vad’s hand as he held hers. She could not let Narfrom know about Vad. “No, I’m wrong. I had a ring, but I lost it.”

  “Celtic?”

  She nodded.

  “I was right. If one can wait for the extra electrical energy produced by a storm, and if one wears certain designs, the power of those ancient interlacing patterns channels that energy and you go into the game. I must stop thinking of it as a game. It’s a world all on its own.” He stood and stroked the beautiful embroidery at his waist. “See these designs? They entwine endlessly, linking, channeling the energy.”

  “Sounds strange to me. Are you saying that a man, whom you saw disappear, invented some machine to bring him here using Celtic designs?”

  Narfrom shrugged. “I do not know what he was trying to accomplish, but he knew the ancient legends, had scores of books and photographs of caldrons and weaponry that had been found in rivers, once offerings to the ancient gods. He studied the designs, coincidental or deliberately, we will never know. And he must have come here. It would account for the legends of the lands beyond the ice fields. These people have not the level of technology to cross that vast wasteland themselves and return to tell about it.”

  “What if one of my customers is wearing Celtic designs and plays the game during a bad electrical storm; will she or he be sent into the game?”

  “Not without a certain type of conjunction. I used to think only a lunar conjunction would do, but I have found that if the power of a storm is great enough, you can still travel on a lesser stellar conjunction. I can now make the journey at will. It takes but two things—power and design, both Celtic and heavenly.”

  Power and Design. It had been the title of Gary Mo
rfran’s talk in London. “What about the weapon rumors? Doesn’t the description of that coveted weapon match the game gun? Isn’t the Tolemac council trying to find a way across the ice fields to find it?”

  “Oh, yes, you are well informed. Tolemac and Selaw both wish for such a weapon. A totally useless endeavor.” He reached inside his robes. “Why would anyone need a game gun when there is this?”

  Every cell in Gwen’s body went cold. Narfrom strolled casually to her and raked the barrel of a gun, one that looked alarmingly similar to R. Walter’s, across her cheek.

  Chapter Twenty

  Vad searched the many faces for a glimpse of Gwen as he stood behind the tapestry, his insides knotted with concern. No, he was lying to himself. This was far stronger than concern. Deny it he might, but there was a tie between him and Gwen, a connection. The thought of her in danger sent a rush of blood through his veins, a call to defend that shook him with its intensity.

  Somehow he knew in that moment that if the connection was severed, he would suffer for it, perhaps forever. She was more than just a woman who knew the world of his night dreams.

  A sudden silence made him put his eye to the hole again. At the far end of the room, a man rose from his place before the warming fire of the hearth. The glow lit his hair in a silver blaze. The man must be Ruonail, Ardra’s father.

  “We are gathered to mourn the loss of three of our men,” Ruonail said, his voice thundering down the hall. “The men betrayed my daughter’s trust and endangered her life. It is fitting and proper that they lost theirs in the process. Stand and raise your cups.”

  The company rose, metal goblets held high in their hands. Untainted wine was in them, Vad supposed. What an opportunity lost.

  Ruonail spoke when all were silent and every eye turned to him. “I drink to their souls. May they never find rest.”

  A gasp ran through the hall. Voices rose in an angry murmur. Some drank; some did not.

  “Silence,” he roared across the room. “You will drink! I command it. Drink to their unrest. To their eternal walk on the ice, never to find peace, their punishment for harming one of my family. Drink, or you shall join them.”