Linnea sat up, looking for her kirtle and shaking her head to clear it. “All right, my love.” She looked at him again. He was smiling down at her, pleased by her words of endearment.
She pulled the kirtle over her head but kept the hem of it lifted, ready to mount him and ride.
Marius bent down to pick her up without his usual grace. They were both tired, certainly. She straddled him, her hands in the mane that went halfway up his back, vanishing to a thin line of hair between his shoulder blades.
She pressed her thighs against his sides. His centaur hide was a little rough on the soft inside skin but like everything else that happened with him, pleasurable to her. Linnea leaned into him.
Marius took a few steps backward as if he was not sure of which way to go and then trotted out of the meadow. Either the wine had gotten to him or the ground was uneven, because his gait seemed somewhat unsure.
“Wait,” she said into his ear. “What about Esau?”
“He can fly, Linnea,” he chided her. “He will follow, like as not.”
She could not argue with that.
The twilight sky deepened to indigo and thousands of stars came out in the vault above. Marius’s pace had picked up and she had to hold tightly to his mane.
He no longer spoke to her, concentrating, she thought, on getting them to where they going.
Gideon turned to Simeon with a look of concern. “They have not returned.”
Simeon’s face was grave. “It is well after moonrise. Marius told me he was coming back with Linnea. He wanted her to remain here, not on the Forest Isle. Not at night.”
“Understandable. A bower of twigs and leaves is unsafe, unlike this fortress, though it may be home to him,” Gideon said.
“I never should have allowed him to leave in the first place. But a centaur gets restless indoors.”
“He was in man form,” Gideon pointed out.
“No matter what, Marius is impetuous. He would have escaped if I had gainsaid him or had the men-at-arms stop him.”
“At least he would have left Linnea behind. She is most at risk.”
Simeon gave a curt nod. “Unfortunately, you are right. But I don’t know what to do.”
“Search for them. What else?”
“In the dark, Gideon? By torchlight?” Simeon asked. “We will be picked out immediately by Ravelle and his henchmen. Remember, demons are strongest by night. It is their natural element.”
Gideon threw up his hands. “What else can we do? Rhiannon will go out herself if I do not.”
“And she will take my Megaleen with her,” Simeon said gloomily. “Their sail around the island did not tire them out, alas. Pio pulled them for most of the voyage. They are upstairs talking. Probably about us.”
Gideon scowled. “I fear, Simeon, that we sat and talked for too long when time was of the essence.”
“Vane certainly thought so. He was all for waving swords and chopping off heads.”
“He was raving drunk.”
Simeon nodded. “The steward of my cellars said the kelp brandy is all gone. No wonder Vane slunk away before morning. But he was right in a way. I have a feeling that our enemy has gained on us.”
“There is no way we can confirm that or find them until daybreak.”
Gideon folded his arms across his chest and flexed his massive wings. The movement made a rush of air move through the hall. “I have flown in the dark before. I might see them, or their signal fire, if Marius makes one in a clearing.”
“Then go. I am no use in that regard.”
Gideon clapped the Lord of the Deep on the shoulder. “Your stronghold has served us well. I hope to return with both of them. If I have to carry them by the scruffs of their foolish necks, I will.”
Simeon laughed. “You might be able to carry Linnea. Marius will have to run home himself.”
A little later, without telling Rhiannon, Gideon launched himself from the highest tower, the one where Linnea and Marius had spent the night. He soared out over the archipelago of Arcan.
He would search from above, island by island. The waning moon afforded some light.
Beyond the Arcan islands stretched the infinite sea. From far above the enormous, endless waves were no more than minute wrinkles on its silver surface, breaking white upon the isolated beaches.
He swooped and dove down through the air. He would fly low over the beaches of the forest island first, because that was where Marius had gone. Simeon’s men-at-arms had found the fellow whose boat had been commandeered and extracted that much information.
From the air, the islands seemed closer together. But the ocean that separated them was rough and very deep, and going from one to other was rarely easy.
Marius, rash as usual, had taken a risk by going out upon it with only Linnea. The lords sometimes availed themselves of the subterranean tunnels. Because of her, Marius could not.
He must have been desperate to get away from Simeon’s stronghold, if only for a day.
The feeling of the wind rushing through his wings energized Gideon. No longer were there watchers on high, waiting to hurl lightning bolts at him for his transgressions.
Life was precious to him now, not a torment to be endured.
He zoomed down to the first beach, flying low. There was nothing. Not a wisp of smoke or anyone upon it.
Up he flew again, over the headlands that separated this beach from the next, longer one.
He made several passes over the second one, in case he missed something. But it was as empty as the first. It took less than an hour to survey all the others and soon he was back where he started.
Gideon rose on a column of warm air above the island’s center, startling a circling hawk as he went high up.
From this vantage point the forest seemed impenetrably black, as if it were made of black stone like Lord Vane’s desolate foundry of an island and not thickly carpeted by green, living things. Not a pinprick of light illuminated it. Gideon reminded himself, flying a little lower, that the solstice revels had ended. There were few fires in the forest at other times because Marius did not allow them as a rule—a law that his mysterious younger brother Darius enforced in his peregrinations.
Gideon let out a gusty sigh and spiraled down, going for a closer look. The hawk was gone. He’d seen it plummet through the air like a stone after it sighted game, a running rabbit, perhaps. The birds of prey were blessed with eyesight that was unimaginably keen. Gideon wished he could say the same.
Marius and Linnea most likely were still on the forest island, but he could not find them. His diligent searching from the air had tired him, but he had no wish to return to Simeon just yet.
A distant rumble from Lord Vane’s island came to his ears, and a plume of sparks shot skyward from the volcano.
Fireworks, he thought. Only fireworks. The cataclysm that had created Vane’s island was not likely to repeat itself, according to the soothsayers who read the signs and portents of inner earth. The most learned among them told stories of another island that had vanished when the Isle of Fire was born, roaring upward from the sea. That one had been inhabited by a race of men who built vast temples and lived in peace with one another.
They and their city had been swallowed by the hungry sea in an instant. As he would be if he did not find somewhere to rest. He changed course and swooped off to see Vane.
He found him in front of the fireplace in his private chambers. Still aloft, Gideon had taken the liberty of looking in at the higher window and bypassing the servants altogether.
Vane was alone. Gideon hovered outside the window, not wanting to startle the fiery lord, and hallooed.
Vane didn’t look up. “Is that you, Gideon? I thought I heard flapping. Come in.”
He seemed to be recovered from his drunken binge, Gideon thought. “Thank you.” The window was narrow for him, but he managed to get through by folding his wings tightly. Gideon jumped down from the stone sill and went to Vane.
He’d hoped to toast his wing
s after his long flight in the high air, but the fireplace was cold, littered with gray ash and black bits of wood.
The man who sat in front of it seemed to lack warmth as well.
“No fire tonight?” Gideon asked him.
Vane shook his head. “Too much trouble.”
“Have the servants run away?” It was entirely possible, given Lord Vane’s famously bad temper.
“I sent them away. What brings you here, Gideon?”
“I went out from Simeon’s stronghold to look for Marius and Linnea. They went to the Forest Isle and have not yet returned.”
Vane raised a thick black eyebrow and shot Gideon a quizzical look. It was the first time he had looked at him. “Marius is not a prisoner, is he? Can he not go where he pleases?”
“Of course. And he always does.”
“Well, then. What do you want me to do? Send over the hounds?”
“No. Not yet.” The great lord’s pack of hunting hounds were a legend in their own right. They could go for days without tiring and always ran down their quarry in the end. But they were noisy and half-wild.
Until the four of them had hit upon the best way to vanquish Ravelle and keep him in the Outer Darkness where he belonged, it was best to operate in secrecy when possible.
“Let me know, then,” Lord Vane said, adding, “I suppose I made an ass of myself at Simeon’s table. He can be a stickler for ceremony and protocol. What a bore. How angry is he?”
Gideon chose to be tactful. “He is more concerned about Marius’s disappearance.”
Lord Vane ceased staring into the emptiness of his hearth, and got up, stretching as if he had been sitting there for some time, brooding. “Marius can take care of himself. A centaur acts first and thinks later. He is not one to dither like you two.”
The comment was blunt. From anyone other than Vane, it would be an insult. “You and Marius have much in common,” Gideon said evenly.
“Do we? I wish I had his lady. Linnea is beautiful. Wish, bah. I want her.”
Vane’s inner fire was suddenly visible in his dark eyes. Gideon gave him a narrow look. “She is indeed lovely, but not every woman is yours for the taking.”
“Spoken like a true friend,” Vane said wryly. “Of Marius. Not me.”
“Your sexual appetites are unquenchable, or so I have heard.”
Lord Vane laughed in a rude way. “Throw water on me and the fire will go out.”
“Not for long. And speaking of that, why are you without one? I don’t think I have ever flown near this island without seeing a glow in every window.”
Vane scowled. “Spying?”
“Do you have something to hide?” The question held a sharp edge. The Lord of Fire’s interest in Linnea was suspicious, given that she and Marius had just disappeared. He’d helped himself to many a maiden in the past. And nymphs. And naiads—no female was safe around Vane. His passionate skill was such that all went with him willingly, but they were spoiled for other lovers after him and difficult to please.
No one else measured up, or so Rhiannon had told Gideon. He studied Vane, whose air of indifference seemed put on.
“Of course not,” Vane said at last. “And if you are thinking that I seduced her, think again. I didn’t have the time, for one thing.”
“That is hardly reassuring.”
Vane strode about his chamber, kicking a limp leather boot into a corner with its mate after he almost tripped on it. “Gideon, I was joking.”
“Hmph.”
“That damned discussion of what to do about the demon went on forever,” Vane said peevishly. “I got drunk—”
“Obnoxiously so. You were loud, you were full of yourself, and you were ogling the women.”
Lord Vane didn’t seem in the least deflated by that description of his behavior. He seemed proud. “So I was.”
“I am not surprised that you admit it, only that you remember it.”
Vane came to where Gideon stood, his arms folded across his chest and his wings tense, and jabbed a finger at him. “Bah! I also remember you and Simeon hauling me up from the table and—”
“How is it that no one saw you leave his stronghold in the morning?”
“Because I slept outside on cold stone where I was dumped by the men-at-arms! I treat my hounds better than that!”
“Don’t look for pity.” Gideon favored him with a contemptuous look. “No one wanted to listen to your ranting.”
“Were you expecting me to come back in and say a polite good morning to all? Have a cup of tea?” Vane grumbled. “I hate tea. And I hate mornings. And it will be a long time before I go back to Simeon’s hall.”
“You still have not answered my question about how you left it, Vane.”
The two men stood glaring at each other.
“I hired a boat and had a man row me home. Don’t look at me like that. It is the truth.”
“I hope so,” Gideon said quietly.
“I have been here ever since. When exactly did she—they, I mean—disappear? Linnea was in the stronghold the next morning, was she not?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
Angry and exasperated, Vane made a move as if to shove the winged lord, but thought better of it and let his hands drop to his sides. “I have had enough of these strange questions! I never touched Linnea!”
Gideon sensed an evasiveness still, but his intuition told him that Vane’s answers were essentially true. “Good. Then help us find her and Marius.”
Lord Vane had fallen into a mood far blacker than he had been when Gideon entered through the window. “I see,” he snarled. “I am expected to prove myself, is that it?”
“We will need your help. Whether or not you actually want to give it.”
Lord Vane dragged over another chair from a corner and set it in front of the fireplace. “Never let it be said that I am not a good host. Sit down. And tell me everything you know.”
He stormed over to the wall and yanked on a woven belt to summon a servant.
A youth came in, glancing at Gideon for only a second, but listening intently to his lordship, who ordered wine and food sent up at once.
The servant left, and Vane went to a wrought iron rack that held firewood and began throwing logs into the fireplace with tremendous force.
Ash puffed out and Gideon coughed. Vane flung himself into a chair.
“You forgot the tinder,” Gideon pointed out. “And it’s not going to light itself.”
Both comments earned him a furious glare from Vane, who got up again and grabbed a spiky handful of dried pine needles and little cones, squatting to shove it under the tumbled logs. He looked about for his flint.
Gideon pointed to the mantel and Vane cursed. He struggled up—he was indeed stiff and achy from his drunken slumber on the stones—and grabbed the flint and the sliver of fatwood next to it, sitting on the edge of his chair this time to strike sparks.
Once. Twice. Neither caught. But the third spark did, glowing bright red on the sliver of fatwood. Absently, Vane blew on it.
The other man watched him. There was nothing else to do at the moment. The spark turned into a tiny flame under Vane’s breath.
Gideon’s eyes widened with amazement. The flame stayed small but it took on the shape of a perfect little naked woman. Blue with scarlet nipples.
“Hella,” Vane said with surprise. With one finger, he lifted her off the fatwood. The place where she’d perched was scorched black and a red ember glowed in its center. He threw the kindled wood into the logs to start the fire and put her in the palm of his other hand. “You’re back. How nice to see you.”
The fire sprite stuck out her flickering tongue at him. You’re the one who went away.
“Did you hear that?” Vane asked Gideon, laughing.
“Yes, I did.” Gideon looked from the sprite named Hella to Vane. Her brightness made the gloomy lord of fire much more cheerful.
“She gets bigger, much bigger. She is nearly my heig
ht, in fact, when she gets going. All I have to do is blow on her.”
Gideon smiled and raised a hand. “Not now, Vane. We have things to talk about. Keep her small.”
Vane played with the sprite for a few more moments, letting her dance on his palm. Then she strolled over to his thumb, straddled it, and bit hard on the callused tip. “Ah, Hella. You are vicious but adorable.” He turned his attention back to Gideon. “All right, I will keep her small.”
“Thank you. Just until I go.” He could well imagine what would happen after that. He had no doubt that the sprite, full grown or blown or whatever the word was, provided Vane with supernaturally excellent sex.
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