Rising Fire

by TERRI BRISBIN

  “Very well, my lady. My thanks for the meal and the company. Until the morn, then,” he said, bowing to her.

  After she left, he comprehended that whatever task had brought Brienne here, whether an errand for her father or something else, Lady Margaret was not pleased by it. Her tone spoke of being treated with disrespect and not liking it.

  Still, an errand for her father did not explain the expensive gown and belt, for the blacksmith would not ask nor expect such things in exchange for his work. Once again, his gut tightened at the thought of how those gifts came to be.

  Although he did not believe the lady lied, there was something odd in her gaze and her words. As he strolled along the corridors, eschewing offers of help when servants offered, he took note of each doorway and chamber and the layout of each floor and also looked for any sign of Brienne. Once done with his task, which he had the others doing in the barracks, as well, he sought out his chambers.

  The strange thing was, once there and once the keep’s occupants settled for the night, he could not stay awake as was his custom. He’d had wine, aye, and more than his usual amount, but not enough to make him this sleepy. William sat on the bed, trying to regain his balance, and next, he was sound asleep.

  * * *

  She followed where he led, through the silent corridors of the keep. Such an anxious, needy thing; he fought to keep from laughing at her outright. It had taken little more than a few soft smiles and a few hollow promises and she was his.

  As her power would be.

  Hugh worked with her for the next several hours, into the darkest part of the night while everyone in the castle slept deeply, and he began to understand the potential within her.

  Unexpected.

  Unharnessed.

  Unlimited.

  Her dam could not have been of the blood or she would not have been discarded. He would have used such a carrier to breed more offspring so that he had the chance to produce children who carried his power. He would have watched a woman capable of producing issue with such power carefully and used her carefully. How could she have escaped his notice?

  Or had she? whispered the mocking voice in his head. Memories flitted through his mind before he tamped them down, ignoring the taunting doubt. Instead of dwelling on it, he focused on showing Brienne how to hide herself in the smallest of flames. The girl learned quickly, absorbing all of his instructions and demonstrating skills he had not had at her age, even with training.

  He would have taken a few moments to be proud of her if it wouldn’t be a waste of his time. She would serve a purpose in the goddess’s plan and then be gone. Once the portal was opened, she would be a powerful sacrifice and would make both him and the goddess he served invincible and unstoppable. The spells cast to exile the goddess worked only if all four gateways remained closed. If he could open one, she could escape its prison and then destroy the others, never to be bound again.

  He turned his attention back to the girl and found her distracted. Closing his eyes, he opened his senses to discover the reason for it.

  Fire was not the only power he possessed. Once he’d discovered the portal in the oldest ruins of the original castle—a window of a sort—the goddess shared more with him. He could work other spells, such as a sleeping spell like the one at work tonight. He could cover any sounds that others should not hear. He could sense, almost hear, the thoughts and fears of those around him, which was helpful in deciding how to sway them to his use. There was another power that he’d just begun using—one that would bend others to his will—and he salivated just at the thought of using it.

  The image of the king’s knight appeared in his mind.

  “William de Brus?” he whispered aloud. The fireball she was perfecting dissolved at the words.

  “My lord?” she asked, carefully avoiding his gaze.

  “You know the king’s knight?” Hugh studied her face as he waited for her to speak. “You spoke to him this day.” Everything she did was observed. He trusted no one, not even his recently claimed bastard.

  “Aye,” she said. Nothing more. Hmm. Did she purposely hide something from him? It would not work, but she had not discovered that part of his abilities yet.

  “You know him, Brienne?” he asked again, pushing against her mind with his, causing some amount of pain for her. When she gasped, he paused.

  “I met him when we traveled back from Gifford.”

  “Who else was with you?” He pushed again, and she hissed against it, her face going pale.

  “My father.”

  He decided he did not want her to think of Gavin again like that. Hugh spread the pain out so that her whole body felt it this time. She cried out then, her hands clenching against it.

  “Who was with you?” he asked again. She looked at him with fear-filled eyes. “Call him by name, Brienne. And remember that you are my blood and not his.”

  “Gavin,” she whispered. He released her, and she panted as the pain, once very real, faded. “I was with Gavin.”

  “So the knight has been on my lands for weeks now?” he asked, waiting to see if she would tell him the truth this time.

  “Aye, my lord.” She was breathing heavily now, part in fear and part in anticipation of the pain she knew he could cause. He reached over and lifted her face to his. Inhaling her scent, he knew something else now.

  “He arouses you.” He pulled her closer and inhaled once more. “He excites you and you want him.” Interesting. She reacted like a bitch in heat at the mention of the warblood’s name. He dropped his hold and walked a few paces away. “Are you a virgin, girl?” he asked. She did not answer immediately.

  He knew the answer from the blush that rose in her cheeks. But he wanted her to answer him. This was about obedience, which he was enforcing as surely as he was building her skills with the fire. Hugh pushed.

  “Aye,” she called out, wincing as it hit her.

  Untouched.

  Another asset he could exploit if and when he needed to draw the others to his cause.

  “Again,” he said, pointing to the center of the chamber.

  She walked to it and created the perfect sphere within seconds. Her mind was focused so closely on her creation that she did not see it coming. He blasted her from behind, throwing his power at her. The fire flared, filling the entire chamber before she pulled it back.

  “Do not let it falter, Brienne. Keep the sphere before you,” he ordered. He did not lessen his assault until she realized what he wanted and did it. “No matter what I do, keep it before you. Perfectly round and compact.”

  He moved around her, pushing her mind and throwing his own fire against her. Over and over, until she could both fend him off and focus on her creation. Hugh continued until he could feel her weaken and heard her scream out. He stopped.

  A good effort for the first full night, he thought as she collapsed on the floor before him. With only burned scraps of clothing left, for the garments could not withstand the flames once she’d faltered, he let her lie there while he went to speak directly to the goddess.

  The warblood was his next target. Sir William, the bastard son of the king, would be a triumph for Hugh, and he intended to bring him to his side of the battle. Oh, he’d known from the moment Sir William had crossed onto his lands that he was one of them. Those last few left who would try to defeat him.

  He was also untrained in how to call upon or control his power—the power of the supreme and utter warrior. Because of his ignorance, Hugh was able to shield his power from the knight, so he would be unaware of his true abilities until it was too late. Since the others were just as ignorant of the prophecy and what they must do, Hugh would use his advantage of knowledge to conquer them, one by one.

  He opened the secret doorway to the goddess’s chamber, leaving Brienne. She would not wake for some time, for she lay unconscious from exhaustion and pain
. Such was the price paid for using the power in their blood, at least until she learned how to use its rejuvenation properties, too.

  As he walked down the steps, into the underground vault that sat beneath the old castle ruins, his flesh roused in anticipation of communing with her. Deep within the ground, surrounded by the buried stones that had been hidden away by his ancestors, he stood before her and prepared to be cleansed by her fire.

  The shock of it as he pushed his hand through the wall that separated them forced him to his knees.

  The heat as she approached shocked him in its intensity.

  And then his body and soul burned in the heat of her pure fire.

  “My goddess,” he forced out. His jaws clenched as he held fast, fighting the urge to pull away from the agony of her touch. “I am yours,” he pledged.

  “She pleases me.” The goddess’s voice echoed through the barrier and across the stone chamber. “Power seethes in her veins. My powers.”

  “Aye, Goddess. She is strong,” Hugh said as pride tinged his voice now. Though she lay unconscious on the floor of his chamber above, she had been spectacular.

  “The priests and the seer are near. And a warblood,” she hissed, her form rearing back as she spewed more fire at him.

  The goddess swirled in anger inside the darkness, shooting flames and screaming out curses. He had never seen her so and tried to placate her in some way.

  “The warblood means something to the girl, my goddess. She could bring him to our side.” Hugh dared a glance up at her. “And she will be the sacrifice to put an end to your enemies.”

  Her fury calmed then, and he heard the sound of her fluttering wings behind the barrier. She existed in that form there. But what would she be when he freed her? He shivered in anticipation and arousal.

  “Use her,” she hissed. “The warblood must be ours.”

  Hugh smiled and nodded. “She will do as I command her.”

  Chaela sent a burst of molten heat across the barrier then, and he felt her pleasure in the wave after wave of pain that sent him writhing on the floor. His body melted into flames and merged for a moment with her heat. Barely able to withstand such a joining, he fought to remain flames but could not.

  His human body re-formed and burned anew. Hugh screamed against the pain, and then in the final moment of agony, he attained release. As he lay there, letting his own powers heal his scorched flesh, the goddess spoke in his thoughts.

  Use her. She is ours.

  Later, as he carried Brienne back to her chambers, he realized the more important connection—she would mean something to the warblood. Hugh must play on that. Time was growing short, for the priests had arrived, and if they could convince the other bloodlines to work together, it would jeopardize his plans.

  “Girl!” he said, shaking her as he walked down the stairs and along the corridor. No one would hear him. “Girl!” He shook her once more. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment. Hugh held her closer and whispered to her, “Does the warrior want you? Does he lust for you?” When she did not respond, he used his thoughts to wake her.

  “Aye,” she mumbled, startled.

  “Has he shown his power to you?” Another push, and she stared into his eyes. “Has his blood risen yet?”

  All it took for her to answer was for him to narrow his gaze. Like a trained dog, she knew what would follow if she did not. “Aye, my lord. He changes . . . into . . .”

  He pushed again, but it was too much. She fell unconscious, and he could not rouse her. Arriving in her chambers, he dropped her on the bed and walked out, disappointed that she could withstand so little before losing consciousness. With more training and more encouragement, he would teach her to endure longer. Pulling the door closed, he returned to his sleeping chambers, his body stronger and more vigorous for what he’d endured below.

  Knowing he would see the goddess and that his condition would change after such encounters, he made certain that a wench waited for him in his chambers. As he’d ordered, she knelt next to his bed, naked, the marks of his last attentions still reddened and burned into her skin. Because of the spell he’d cast, she slept deeply, curled over herself with her face resting on the cold stone floor, awaiting his return.

  No matter that she slept, he thought as he lifted her and laid her on her stomach over the edge of the bed. She would wake soon enough and scream the way he so liked.

  As he had for his goddess.

  They always did.

  Chapter 15

  “Brienne!”

  “Brienne!”

  Her name seeped into her exhausted mind, and Brienne raised her head to find the source of the noise. It hurt to even think about moving, and it hurt when she finally forced her body to respond. The chamber spun around her as she turned to face . . . someone.

  “Brienne, you must hurry. He has called you to the noon meal in the hall.”

  The frantic sounds of Emilie searching through the trunk and the slap of the tossed garments on her skin made her look around. She lay half on her stomach, half twisted on her side, across the bed. Wrapped in a gown she did not remember donning. On top of the bedcovers.

  Memories flooded in then, and she groaned at the flashes of fire and burning and pain, inside her head and all over her body. Curling her legs up and holding them, she ached and her head throbbed.

  “Are you ill? He did not say to excuse you if you are ill. He said ‘bring her to the table for the noon meal.’ He ordered.” Emilie continued her words, but they garbled into a slurred chant of endless words. “Brienne,” Emilie said loudly as she grabbed her shoulders, “You must get off that bed and get dressed.”

  Chilled, she shivered as she sat up. She was never cold, but this morn she felt as though she would never warm. Emilie dressed her without pause, intent on doing what she’d been told to do. After last night and its “lessons,” Brienne understood how she felt. She’d quickly learned that her father drew her in with enticements and appealing promises and then delivered brutal punishments if he was not pleased.

  Emilie pulled her up to sit, and her hand slid down Brienne’s arm. Jumping back, the girl grabbed at her hand and cried out.

  “You are burning!”

  Tugging her own arm free, Brienne looked at the place where Emilie had touched. Her birthmark. The flames, now vibrant red and moving freely, entwined with each other and separated, rippling on her flesh as though alive.

  And the heat moved through her, reminding her of the power in her blood. Clutching her hand over it, she moved away from the girl and stood. “Give me my shift,” she said.

  Pulling it over her head, she covered herself and the mark. Though she could feel the heat through the thin fabric, it did not appear to burn through it. Turning back, she looked at the girl and a knowing glance gazed back. This was not something to be discussed with anyone. Nor was the presence of more ash in her bed and on her feet when she sat to have her stockings put in place.

  A few wordless minutes later and Brienne stood dressed and ready to go to the hall. Emilie lifted the latch and opened the door. There in the corridor stood both Lord Hugh’s wife and his daughter.

  “My lady,” she said, dropping to a curtsy.

  “Are you ready? Come along, then,” Lady Margaret said in a biting tone. Out of Lord Hugh’s sight and hearing, she made her dissatisfaction with this arrangement very clear. As did her half sister, who simply did not speak to Brienne at all or acknowledge her in any way. Even now, she looked up and down, anywhere but in Brienne’s direction.

  Lady Margaret did not wait for a response. She began walking and expected everyone would fall in line behind her—which everyone did. Never having lived in a noble household before, Brienne marveled at the structure and rules that governed it all. Rules she would never remember. Emilie had pointed this out just about every moment of every hour since she’d arrived. They’d bee
n called to the hall and Brienne knew that meant the large room over in the main keep, so she walked behind the others.

  As they made their way across the yard, Brienne realized that she missed the friendly conversations that sprang up as villagers went about their daily business. Neighbors spoke to one another. Mothers called out to their children. Everyone was at ease among themselves. Here no one addressed anyone else. When the lady or lord crossed the yard, all motion and talking stopped. No one spoke unless they were spoken to first. A sense of unease pervaded Yester.

  The sunlight could not break through the thick clouds that swarmed the sky above her this day. And just so, for the dreariness suited her well. Her head and body ached from last night. Having a power such as theirs and knowing his ways, she should not be surprised at his ruthless method of instructing her. Succeed or die was the message he gave, and she would learn it one way or the other.

  She’d heard rumors about his abilities and his dark practices, and Brienne thought those who spoke of them must have some knowledge about him. From what she’d witnessed so far, the rumors were correct. He had power of fire. He could force people to do his bidding with only his thoughts and could read the thoughts of others. He could call forth the dark magic and cast spells.

  She shivered then, remembering how she’d felt when she first woke up this morning. She had no memory of how she’d come to be there. The last thing she remembered was his orders to bring forth a sphere of fire and hold it before her.

  Then a barrage of fire and pain had come at her and she’d fought to keep the sphere and protect herself. When her garments caught fire and burned her, she knew she’d failed and expected to die. Instead she’d awoken back in the bedchamber.

  Now that she thought on it, it would make no sense to let her die. Lord Hugh knew she did not understand her power yet and was inexperienced in using it. He would not want to bring her here and then allow her to perish so quickly. So she would need to learn faster and better. To make up for lost years of learning and to gain the skill that he had and to control the fire in her blood.