by C. C. Wood
True to his word, Bran agreed to wed the pair the next day. He even embraced Aveta, placing a kiss on her forehead. “You have given me two gifts beyond any price I could pay,” he stated. “My son is alive and well by your hand and you carry my son’s child. These are blessings I will always remember.”
Caderyn was less effusive, but he did nod in approval before walking out the door of her cottage.
Alaunus did not want to leave when his father mentioned it. He argued with Bran, stating, “As she will be my wife tomorrow and she already carries my child, no one will care if I am here tonight. I doubt anyone will notice.”
“Son, the village knows of your illness. Many have prayed to the god and goddess for you, offering sacrifices on your behalf. You must show your gratitude to the people who have given so much for your good health.”
Alaunus sighed because his father had a valid point. “Very well. I will go into the village with you today, but I will return to Aveta’s cottage after nightfall.”
Bran’s frustration faded at his son’s words. “I felt much the same when I wed your mother. Though she still lived with her parents at the time and her father was determined to keep me away from his daughter until after the vows.” The older man laughed at the memory. “Not that it helped. Your mother would sneak out of their home every chance she had.”
Aveta kissed Alaunus and bade them all farewell, watching from the doorway of her cottage as they walked toward the village.
As the trio disappeared from view, a shadow passed over her garden. A chill crept up her spine when she glanced at the sky and realized that the expanse of blue held not a single cloud.
She shivered, but not because of the cool morning air. A sense of foreboding filled her when, one by one, the birds singing around her cottage fell silent.
Aveta was certain that the evil that harmed her beloved was far from done. A final battle would be fought and she had every intention of leaving the field victorious.
Somehow, she understood that her fate, and the fates of those she loved most, depended upon the outcome.
Chapter Eight
The Devil
Alaunus had been insistent that the two of them leave the village after they wed. Aveta wondered if he knew something she did not.
Still, she spent the day carefully packing her herbs, potions, seeds, and tools in several baskets. She was not as concerned with her clothing as the few dresses and nightgowns she owned could easily be rolled into a bundle. She decided she would ask Bran to sell her cottage and hold the money until she and Alaunus could return.
To her surprise, the day passed quickly. She wondered how Alaunus was faring with the villagers and their response to his sudden illness and equally abrupt healing. She tried not to worry about the shadow that had passed over her garden that morning, focusing instead on what was to come after she and Alaunus were wed.
It was late afternoon when she heard a light rap on her door. Assuming it was a villager in need of a potion or tea, Aveta opened her door with a warm smile to greet them.
When her eyes fell on Rhiannon, she felt the imminent danger. The other woman hurled a curse at her, the ancient words falling from her lips with ease. Aveta threw up a hand, deflecting the curse with a spell of her own, her reaction immediate. The words came from her mouth instinctively.
Before Aveta could fully understand what was happening, Rhiannon reached out and grasped her wrist. Her black eyes shone like mirrors as she hissed another spell.
Aveta screamed as the world fell away and she was hurled into the blackness.
Something soft brushed Aveta’s cheek before moving on to tickle her nose. Her head jerked away from the strange feathery sensation on her skin.
“You’re awake,” Rhiannon crooned. “Good.”
Aveta sat up suddenly, her head aching fiercely. Groaning, she lifted a hand to her forehead. “What have you done, Rhiannon?” she asked. “Where are we?”
“Since you refused to do as I asked, I have taken matters into my own hands.” The younger woman rose from her crouched position next to Aveta, straightening to her full height. A black feather dangled from her fingers.
Aveta stared up at her, swamped by the sensation that she was seeing Rhiannon’s true form for the first time. The woman seemed taller, thinner, and her black hair glistened with blue highlights rather than the subdued hints of color that Aveta thought she noticed before. It struck her that Rhiannon’s hair was the same color as the goddess’.
“Who are you?” Rhiannon was clearly more than human, perhaps even more than a witch. Now that the veil was lifted, Aveta could see the shimmering power that cloaked the other woman, the same blue light that sparkled in the stream in the woods.
“I am you,” Rhiannon replied, sweeping the skirts of her dress to the side in order to pace across the rock floor. “Or I once was.”
Aveta noticed that they were enclosed in some sort of cave, the jagged rocks appeared vaguely threatening in the dim glow of the candles scattered throughout the chamber.
Rhiannon stopped her movements, facing Aveta with a chilling smile on her face. “You see, long ago I too was blessed by the god and the goddess. They saw fit to give me power with the instruction to use it for the benefit of others. Like a good little sycophant, I did as they said. As the years passed, I grew older and poorer, living in a mud hut half the size of your cottage. Then I fell ill. After years of serving others, helping the sick and wounded in my own village, do you know what they did?” Rhiannon’s eyes sparkled with fury and bitterness. “They left me to die. No one cared that I was ill and alone. They knew I was dying, and they did nothing.”
The flames that danced upon the candles expanded, shooting several feet in the air. Rhiannon’s rage seemed to fuel them.
“So I decided then that everything I did from that moment on would be for my benefit, and mine alone. There is more to magic than the unselfish servitude that the god and goddess would have you believe,” Rhiannon explained. “I did whatever was necessary to heal myself, to gain wealth and beauty, but my powers have begun to wane.”
Aveta inched away from Rhiannon, wracking her mind for a spell to protect her. She reached out for the goddess, but could not feel her. She did not dare call for Alaunus. While he was stronger now than he had been before, he did not possess the skill to defeat a creature such as Rhiannon.
“What is it you want from me?” Aveta asked desperately, realizing her power had deserted her. She felt no energy, no pulse of magic, within her.
Rhiannon laughed. “Little witch, I told you. I wanted you to stay away from Alaunus.”
Aveta’s eyes grew wide as she finally grasped Rhiannon’s true motive for wishing to wed Alaunus. “You want his power,” she whispered.
For years, Aveta had known that Alaunus had great potential. His power was still raw and untutored, and he seemed completely unaware of the magical feats he would be capable of performing. In fact, he did not seem to know that he held power at all.
“Yessss,” Rhiannon hissed. “I am sure you have felt it.”
Aveta nodded, speechless. How could she have been so blind?
Rhiannon laughed. “What fools, the pair of you. All this time, you had no idea that the most powerful wizard this land has ever seen was the same man you spread your legs for. And he was too blind to see you for what you are. Had either of you been willing to acknowledge the true strength of your natures, I would not have had a chance.” Her smile widened. “I must confess I am quite pleased that is not the case. Especially since you have improved Alaunus a great deal.”
Aveta stilled at Rhiannon’s words, watching the dark witch closely. “What do you mean?”
“Come now, Aveta. Surely you have realized by now that it was I who cursed Alaunus. Since I could not siphon his power a bit at a time by living as his wife, I decided that I would strip it from him all at once as he died. It was not the ideal arrangement, but it was my only opportunity since he resisted all my attempts to…persuade
him. When you changed him, I was shocked. I did not think it within your ability to create an entirely new being. Still, I have decided that I am grateful. He is stronger now. When I drain his power, it will make me stronger as well.” She laughed with false humor. “Now that I know how you created such a beast, I believe I will make more of my own. Warriors to do my bidding and strong enough to defeat any enemy.”
“You still intend to kill him?” Aveta asked softly, terrified by the picture Rhiannon painted with her words.
“That was always the plan, little witch,” Rhiannon answered bluntly. “Only the manner in which he dies will change now. I do not want to wait years to take his magic piece by piece. I want it all immediately.” Rhiannon moved to a rock ledge and plucked up a bronze bowl. “But, first, I must take care of you.”
Aveta clutched her belly as she staggered to her feet, her body stiff and sore from the curse Rhiannon had hurled at her earlier. The other woman’s black eyes dropped to where Aveta’s hand lay on her stomach.
“You are with child,” she breathed, her eyes sparkling with glee. “Oh, this will be the day I finally become as the goddess. Any offspring of you two will carry more magic than any being born before.”
Fear pierced through the shock that had dulled Aveta’s senses. She could not allow this to happen.
Goddess, give me strength, she prayed silently. And may the god grant me the skill to defeat such evil.
For the first time since Rhiannon had taken her, Aveta felt the power inside her stir. She could sense the god and goddess once again. The barrier that Rhiannon had erected against them was flimsy in comparison to the deep well of magic they possessed.
Drawing from that well, Aveta lifted her arms. She did not speak the ancient tongue, nor did she invoke a spell. Gathering pure power and spooling it within her, she became the conduit, directing unadulterated energy toward Rhiannon.
The dark witch laughed, raising a hand as if to block the attack. Then the wave slammed into her, throwing her back against the cave wall and pinning her. Her amusement instantly faded, her glee replaced with a snarl.
Aveta felt an invisible wind swirling about her, lifting the ends of her hair and tugging at her skirts. The power flowed through her, warm and promising. “I will not let you harm anyone, Rhiannon,” she vowed, releasing the dark sorceress and watching as she fell into a heap on the floor.
Rhiannon lay facedown on the stone, utterly still. Aveta released the breath she held. The witch was unconscious and now would be the opportune time to bind her, both physically and with magic.
Aveta saw a pile of coarse rope in the corner and realized that Rhiannon had intended to do exactly the same to her. Fitting that the dark witch would be on the receiving end of such treatment, Aveta thought.
When she moved to pick up the coiled rope, Rhiannon pushed herself to her knees, her hand slicing through the air as she hurled a clay jar toward Aveta. There was no time to evade the potion as the jar shattered at Aveta’s feet, spewing droplets of the potion into the air and all over her.
“By my hand, the bonds are broken. Life everlasting, yet forever alone. Your beloved forgotten and your heart of stone. By my will, so shall it be!”
Aveta felt something snap within her as her bond with Alaunus was severed. She cried out at the sudden emptiness, her hands tearing at the bodice of her dress. The pain was unimaginable.
Every candle in the cavern was suddenly extinguished and Aveta screamed again as she dropped into an infinite darkness.
Chapter Nine
Wheel of Fortune
Alaunus felt the abrupt loss of Aveta’s presence, as though she had been violently rent from the face of the earth. Their connection had been all that was keeping him calm as he dealt with villagers and wedding preparations all day. Knowing that she would be waiting in her little cottage for him at sundown had acted as a balm for his desperate possessiveness of her.
He gasped, falling to his knees in the middle of town and clutching his chest. The pain was unlike any he had ever experienced before. It stole his breath and blackened his vision.
Alaunus remained on his hands and knees as he battled the pain, struggling to breathe deeply and blinking his eyes rapidly.
After what felt like hours, the agony receded enough for his vision to return and his lungs to work properly. The sun was setting on the horizon and people were already ensconced inside their homes, dining alone or with their families. There was no one to witness his torment.
Staggering to his feet, Alaunus began to walk toward Aveta’s home, terrified of what he might find. As he regained control of his body, his feet moved faster and faster until he was sprinting across the meadow that surrounded the cottage.
The last fingers of sunlight vanished over the horizon as he entered the herb garden in front of Aveta’s home. The plants appeared to grow wild and tall, but Alaunus knew better. Each seedling was carefully cultivated into lush, blooming foliage.
Aveta cared for her home and garden the same way she cared for the villagers and for him; with everything she had to give. He could not entertain even for a moment that she was dying.
He would not have to live on without her, but he still wanted a chance for them to live. To watch her grow round with their babe and cradle their daughter to her breast after she was born. He wanted to hold her every night and wake with her each morn. To have more children with her and watch them grow into the men and women they were destined to be. It was all he had wanted for most of his life.
Alaunus moaned low in his chest when he saw the door to her cottage standing wide open, the fire barely smoldering in the hearth. He entered the home, stoking the fire and lighting the candles around the room. He needed to see clearly. Perhaps he would be able to find a clue as to what had happened here. Nothing appeared to have been disturbed, her jars of potions, bundles of herbs, and clothing were gone, as were the baskets she often used to carry her supplies. Everything else was in its place.
“She has left you.”
Alaunus whirled, jerking his dagger from his belt. His arm lowered when he saw that it was Rhiannon who stood in the doorway.
“You have seen her?” he asked.
Rhiannon nodded, the hood of her cloak falling away from her face. “She was leaving just as I arrived a few hours ago. I am deeply sorry, Alaunus, but she no longer wishes to marry you.”
Alaunus almost missed the underlying tone of her words as he processed the meaning. Until he saw the strange shimmer in her eyes. The black depths seemed to glow with the light of the moon and stars, though neither was visible. He had witnessed the same phenomena in Aveta’s eyes last night after she healed him. Then he weighed her words and tasted the lie. The scent of her deceit perfumed the air.
He reacted without thought, moving faster than he ever had before. One moment he was near the fireplace, the next he stood in the doorway with Rhiannon, his knife to her throat.
“You lie,” he hissed, the timbre of his voice dropping lower with each syllable. “Witch.”
Her eyes flashed brighter as she stared up at him before she carefully arranged her face into a mask of terror. “Alaunus, why do you speak to me so?” she asked, tears filling her eyes. “I had no hand in Aveta’s departure.”
He inhaled deeply as she spoke and could almost taste the perfidy of her statements as they tripped off her tongue. “You are still lying to me with every word you speak,” he growled. “I can smell it and taste it.” He reached out and grabbed Rhiannon’s arm. “Where is my mate?” he roared. “If you have harmed her in any way—”
Alaunus flew back across the room as her palm slammed into his chest, a shower of red and black sparks erupting at the contact.
“You dare to treat me so poorly?” Rhiannon hissed, her words sibilant and threatening. “Me who holds the life of your beloved and child in my hands?” She seemed to float across the floor toward him. “How reckless of you, Alaunus.”
He was on his feet in a blink and she flinched at the sp
eed of his movements.
“By the god and goddess, you are magnificent,” she murmured. “Perhaps I should use you to create more of your kind before I take your life. I doubt many men would have your strength without your blood.” Rhiannon lifted a hand, tapping her finger to her chin. “I believe I will. A goddess should always have protectors and servants best suited to her needs.”
“What sacrilege do you spew?” Alaunus queried scornfully. “I will die before I allow you to use me in such a manner.”
“Do not speak so quickly, my beast,” Rhiannon admonished. “For your death could easily be arranged. Especially since I no longer have any real need of your power. It is likely that your child will have greater strength and talent than you possess even now.”
Alaunus felt his body grow rigid. As he watched Rhiannon, he finally saw beneath the disguise she wore around the people of the village. The bones of her face were sharp and feline beneath the unearthly paleness of her skin. Her hair was no longer black, but a blue so dark and deep that it was nearly the color of the night sky. Her eyes glowed with a supernatural light, shimmering in the shadows like those of a predator.
She was inhuman, more specter than woman, her flesh and bone knitted together by the power she stole from those around her.
“I will kill you before I allow you to harm my daughter in such a way,” he vowed.
Rhiannon chuckled but the sound ended on a sigh. “You are not strong enough to stop me, Alaunus,” she stated.
Without warning, her hand sliced through the air and she spoke one word. Alaunus groaned, clutching his belly with his free hand. When he lifted it, he saw the stain of blood on his fingertips. Her magic had cut him deeply.
His grip on his dagger tightened as something twisted deep inside him. He cried out when she repeated the gesture, this time laying open his cheek.
Once again, the thing within him writhed, like a beast fighting its restraints.