by Sarah Hegger
The bonding had lasted for two hundred years until Tahra, already ancient even back then, had chosen to go beyond. Tahra had taken Roderick’s heart with her, and forever made him the tragic hero of novice fantasies.
If Edana was telling the truth, she would have to wait. And if Edana was telling the truth, Maeve really didn’t want to miss it.
Maeve hurried to the hall and joined the stream of sisters heading for the barracks. Even as the great bell chimed for them to gather, the witches were already ahead of its announcement. Keeping anything secret amongst ninety women was impossible.
Their chatter filled the passageway that led to the main arena. A large, oval room with a sandy floor, it was normally where the coimhdeacht sparred and practiced. Tonight all other light had been extinguished.
In darkness, the witches gathered at the edges of the arena.
Around Maeve her coven sisters speculated.
“It’s because of the witch-hunts,” a shorter sister to Maeve’s left said. “That’s why Goddess has called him back into bondage.” She leaned closer to her friend. “I heard they’re having a trial in the village as we stand here.”
Her friend didn’t look impressed with the news. She looked about her and sighed. “I’ve heard the same thing every day just about. I don’t listen to gossip.”
Maeve suppressed a snort. She’d be the only witch who didn’t listen to gossip. She caught the witch who had spoken first by the sleeve. “What trial in the village?”
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t pay it much mind. As Rowena says, we hear about witch trials and whatnot every day,” she said.
Rowena nodded. “Our villagers love us. They’ve no reason to fear witchcraft.” Then she leaned closer to her friend. “Who do you think he’ll bond?”
“I bet it’s Edana.”
“Everyone thinks it’s Edana,” Rowena whispered back. “She’s a warden, and they say she’s as strong as Fiona.”
“She is.” The shorter one gave an emphatic nod. “I’ve seen her make rock melt.”
“No.” Rowena gave her a look loaded with doubt. “That’s not possible.”
Maeve shared her skepticism. Edana wasn’t all that strong.
“It is, too.” Shorty bristled. “I saw it with my own eyes. And anyway, it makes sense for him to bond a warden. They go out of the castle more than the others.”
“I wish I was a warden.” Rowena sighed.
Shorty giggled. “Only because you want Roderick to bond you.”
Maeve suppressed a grin. Nothing much changed from generation to generation.
“Or Thomas.” Rowena giggled.
“But he’s Lavina’s.”
“It’s not like she owns him.” Rowena glared at Shorty.
Shorty huffed. “She may as well. They’ve been bonded for over eighty years.”
The coimhdeacht had been formed to protect a witch when she left the safety of Baile. Even if her life was threatened, no cré-witch could ever use her powers to hurt another living creature. The coimhdeacht were under no such vow.
“Doesn’t she look lovely?” A witch in front of Maeve pointed at Edana, standing beside Fiona at the opposite end of the arena. She’d added a long, gauzy veil to her hair, and looked like a faerie princess. If anybody had asked her, Maeve would’ve said she thought the look a bit overwrought.
Fiona looked as smug as Edana. They had been friends since childhood, both of them warden witches too.
Light flickered in the passage leading deeper into the coimhdeacht’s part of the castle.
Silence swept over the witches.
First came the bonded witches dressed in flowing white robes, their hair unbound, they each carried a large white candle. They moved to the outer edge of the arena and stood facing the gathered audience.
Nearest to Maeve, Lavina stood, her candle painting sinister shadows across her normally pleasant face. She didn’t look a day over five and twenty, but Maeve knew she was much, much older than that.
Silently the coimhdeacht entered behind them. Wearing long robes belted at the waist, they each carried a silver sword. Candlelight caught on their wickedly sharp blades and threw reflections over their hard, grave faces. Standing back to back with their bonded witches, the coimhdeacht faced the inside of the arena.
Thomas spoke from in front of Lavina, so suddenly that Maeve jumped. “Brother! You are called.”
Roderick entered the arena and stood in the center.
The quality of the silence in the arena deepened.
The coimhdeacht spoke together. “Brother, you are called.”
“I hear the call.” Roderick’s voice, strong and sure, carried around the arena.
“Brother, do you accept the call.”
“I accept the call of my free will.”
Thomas raised his sword. “Bonded witches, bring forth your sister.”
Lavina was tall and Maeve had to stand on her tiptoes to see over her shoulder.
“Come, Sister,” Lavina said.
In front of Edana, Colleen stood. Any moment now, she would lead Edana to Roderick for the bonding to begin. The last bonding had happened before Maeve and many of the other witches there had been born. A deep sensation ran through Maeve’s middle, hot and forceful, and her breath hitched.
Neither Colleen nor Edana moved.
Rowena nudged Maeve, hard enough to bruise her ribs.
“What?” Glaring at her, Maeve rubbed her ribs.
Rowena jerked her head to Lavina. “It’s you.”
Hand outstretched, Lavina stared down at her. “Come, Sister.”
Chapter 5
Around their circle, the other bonded witches were all looking at her. Even Colleen.
Maeve glanced behind her.
“Go on,” Rowena urged.
Spectators on either side of her dropped back and left Maeve standing alone in front of Lavina.
Lavina was looking at her and holding her hand out like she wanted Maeve to come with her, and all Maeve could manage was a strangled, “Eh?”
“Maeve.” Lavina smiled. “It’s you.”
“Eh?” And she really wished she could manage something better, but everybody was staring at her, and the achy, hot feeling in her belly was getting stronger.
Her gaze locked on Thomas and he motioned her forward. “My brother awaits.”
“But…” She made a truncated gesture toward Edana.
Gripping her hand, very firmly, Lavina led her forward.
The prickle of all those eyes made Maeve sweat.
Edana was weeping and glowering all at once and she didn’t look so pretty now.
Fiona had her arm around Edana and was whispering to her.
“It can’t be me,” Maeve said to Lavina. “You must be mistaken.”
“Goddess does the choosing.” Lavina led her to the center of the arena.
The hot feeling grew uncomfortable as it spread to her extremities. It felt like an army of red ants marching beneath her skin.
They stopped in front of Roderick.
Roderick’s gaze snapped down to her. He lowered his voice and spoke softly. “Blessed.”
“Coimhdeacht?” This all felt like one of her spirit walks, but not. “I don’t understand.”
“Trust me,” he said.
Thomas took Roderick’s sword and sheathed it with his own in his belt. He stepped behind Roderick and grabbed the neck edges of Roderick’s robe. He ripped the robe in two and dropped the pieces to the arena floor.
Heat flooded Maeve’s cheeks. She kept her gaze locked on Roderick’s face.
“Naked and unarmed you stand before your witch.” Thomas raised his voice so everyone could hear.
“Naked and unarmed I am before her,” Roderick said.
Maeve’s eyes watered with the
temptation to look down.
As one, the other coimhdeacht raised their swords.
Thomas raised his. “Answer with care, Brother.” He looked at Roderick. “Your word is your bond.”
Roderick nodded, “My word is my bond.”
“Arm yourself, Brother.” Thomas handed Roderick his sword.
“I stand armed before her.”
Swords raised, all the coimhdeacht turned to the north. “Under a new moon, through the long death of winter, do you raise your sword in the power of earth to serve?”
Roderick turned with them. “My spirit joined with hers. My life for hers. From this day forth.”
The coimhdeacht shifted to face east and raised their swords. “Under a waxing moon, in the glorious rebirth of spring, do you raise your sword in the power of air to serve.”
A big man, Roderick flowed as gracefully as a dancer as he turned to face east. “My spirit joined with hers. My life for hers. From this day forth.”
Facing south, they asked, “Under a full moon, through the deep fecundity of summer, do you raise your sword in the power of fire to serve?”
Maeve wasn’t entirely sure what fecund meant, but Roderick seemed fine with it because he answered again, “My spirit joined with hers. My life for hers. From this day forth.”
This couldn’t be happening to her. Roderick’s back was to her now and the umber marks all the coimhdeacht wore glowed beneath his skin.
With a final turn to the west, the coimdeacht asked, “Under a waning moon, through the wondrous bounty of autumn, do you raise your sword in the power of water to serve?”
Once more, Roderick said, “My spirit joined with hers. My life for hers. From this day forth.”
He lowered his head and pressed his forehead to the flat of his blade. More marks scrolled across his skin, covering his arm and spilling over his shoulder and partway down his back.
Her insides felt molten.
Roderick turned and faced her. He handed his sword to Thomas and held out his hand to her.
Before she could question, Maeve took it. Sparks shot up her arm—red, yellow, blue and green, all four elements at work—and stole her breath.
Along Roderick’s arm the umber marks of his calling as coimhdeacht rippled and flared.
Fascinated, Maeve touched them with the forefinger of her free hand. Power pulsed from the marks, male in origin and ancient feeling. The power spread from the point of contact and rippled through her. “They’re alive.”
“Aye.” Roderick’s voice deepened as his clasp on her hand tightened. “They respond to you.”
Maeve glanced up and away again. The blaze in Roderick’s eyes made her itch beneath her skin. “It’s not supposed to be me.”
“I’m sure that it is you.” Roderick smiled.
Roderick rarely smiled but when he did, it made him impossibly handsome. Lines radiated from the corners of his eyes and bracketed his mouth. It softened the harsh lines of his face and made him as near to approachable as a five-hundred-year-old being could be.
“I’m to be bonded to you.” Roderick’s grip on her hand tightened.
Maeve shook her head. “No, you aren’t.”
“Yes, I am.” Roderick raised a brow. “Goddess has decreed it as such.”
“Ah, no she hasn’t.” Maeve winced for expressing her doubt in Goddess. Maeve didn’t know how, but clearly Goddess had made a mistake.
“Yes, she has.” Roderick spoke slowly and patiently as if addressing a slow child. “You’re my next witch and I’m coimhdeacht to you.”
“Uh-uh.” She was the coven spirit walker. She barely left the caverns. She had no need for the guardianship and protection of a coimdeacht. “You must have heard her wrong.”
“Maeve.” He sighed and took her hand back. “Feel it.”
Callouses roughened the pads of his hand as he enfolded her smaller hand completely. Her head barely reached his shoulder.
Her fingers tingled and then her palm. Her magic woke to Goddess magic and glowed within her chest. Warmth spread outward from her chest, while the tingling in her hand moved up her arm. Her voice was a mere whisper, “What is it?”
“The bond.” Roderick’s jaw clenched. “Hold on tight to me. This smarts.”
“Wh—”
The power in her arm crashed into the magic radiating from her chest and squeezed the air out her body.
Roderick gripped her other hand, tight enough to make her cry out, but no pain could compare to the heat and light conflagration burning through her muscles and spreading to her extremities.
The hair on her nape lifted as two streams of magic, Roderick’s and hers, tangled around each other and grew stronger. Thoughts not her own flooded her mind in a dazzling flash of image after image. She had two sets of memories. She had two hearts, both beating in time with each other, two pairs of lungs laboring into one unified rhythm. Her body felt weightier, stronger, male.
Light shone from Roderick’s eyes, brighter than the sun and painful to look at. Her eyes felt as if they were melting within their sockets.
The force within her built and built until it threatened to split her skin and explode in a shower of light across the arena. Through it all Roderick remained her anchor. Without him she would be cast adrift in the magic and it would burn her alive.
Her heart felt as if it would stop beating. Her lungs couldn’t draw in sufficient air.
And then it all stopped.
Maeve’s knees buckled and Roderick caught her against his chest.
“Breathe.” His large hand stroked her back. “You’re well.”
Just because Roderick said so didn’t make it true. Her stomach felt as if it might revolt at any moment, and her legs still refused to hold her. “What the hell was that?”
She was very much afraid she knew, but until he said those fateful words, she could still deny it.
“The bond,” Roderick said, and shattered her pretense. “We’re bonded.”
Maeve couldn’t stop staring at him. “But what am I supposed to do with that?”
Chapter 6
Yesterday, Maeve had bonded a coimhdeacht, and now he was crouched at the entrance of the caverns, guarding her. Guarding her from what, she couldn’t fathom. It was a bit like having a large, unfriendly dog on your heels.
The rhythmic shrick shrick shrick of whetstone on steel rose in counterpart to the hiss and suck of the sea far below them. She could barely concentrate with that noise.
“You know one of the wardens can do that faster.” She had no idea what to say to him even. “A warden like Edana, for instance.”
“I’m aware.” Roderick glanced up. The onshore breeze tangled his raven-dark hair. “And Edana is no longer your concern.”
Details, she needed them all, especially ones that might or might not involve a thwarted Edana. “Edana—”
“Is not your concern.” He bent his head to his task again.
That was it?
She reached tentatively through the bond and found him there, a calm, determined presence, essentially male and strong. From this day forth neither of them would experience an emotion the other didn’t feel, have a thought the other couldn’t discern. Even their memories would be open to each other if they so chose.
Here was her chance to find out everything she wanted to know about Roderick, first and most powerful of the warrior protectors of the cré-witches, and she had no one to share her discoveries with.
Conversely the details of her rather sheltered and boring existence were his for the taking. She wished him well of the tedium. Not a salacious or interesting memory anywhere.
They barely knew each other and now they shared a bond more intimate than lovers. Could he look around her head and see her naked? “Umm…Roderick?”
He looked up.
“How does
this work?” She gestured between them. “Between us, I mean. Are there rules? Things I shouldn’t do? Things I should pretend I don’t see or feel or hear?”
Setting aside his sword, he stood. “There won’t be many secrets between us. Considering we are part of each other.”
She begged herself not to giggle. That sounded oddly intimate.
“Maeve.” He slid his sword into its scabbard and approached her. “I’ll always be able to sense you, but we can turn the bond to a low murmur.”
That was a relief. “How?”
“There are ways. Build an imaginary wall. Keep your thoughts focused on something else. Think of nothing.” A brief smile twisted his mouth. “Which is going to be hard for you with the way your mind flits about.”
“My mind doesn’t flit.”
Roderick chuckled and leaned closer. “Like a butterfly. Also, try not to shut me out too often. I’m useless to protect you if I don’t know what is happening to you and you won’t always have the foresight to know you’re in danger.”
“Huh.” Which brought her back to the senselessness of their bond. “But I’m never in danger. I don’t understand this.”
He turned and strode away. “Ours isn’t to understand why. Come along, Blessed. It’s time for dinner and you’re hungry.”
“No, I’m not.”
Roderick stared at her.
Maeve’s stomach growled.
With a knowing smirk he strode through the arched doorway into the cavern beyond.
“Bossy mule of a man,” she whispered, but really, really softly. Before she had merely been intimidated by Roderick, now she was fairly certain she didn’t like him. Not complete dislike, yet, but edging into the wanting to smack him with something territory.
“You’ll get used to me,” he called. “You’ll have a lifetime to do so.”
Lucky, lucky Maeve.
They climbed the ancient stone staircase cleaved to the side of the cliff. No railing guarded the open side of the staircase and it would be a sheer drop some six hundred feet to the sharp boulders hemming the edge of the beach. Habit had her trailing her fingers on the rock face, but she’d made this climb too many times for it to hold much fear for her.