Secret Heart

by Speer, Flora

  “What’s wrong?” Sanal cried, but Jenia knew without asking.

  “Uncle Walderon has invoked his Power and he is trying to prevent Lord Giles from helping Roarke,” she said as terror filled her heart. “If we don’t do something, Walderon will kill Roarke.”

  “Do something?” Sanal whispered in horror. “How? What?”

  “We three must join our Power together,” Jenia said. Lord Giles was growing paler and Jenia could tell he was trying to fight against a force that was beginning to overwhelm him. “Aunt Sanal, give me your hand.”

  “I can’t feel my hands!” Sanal cried.

  “Neither can I feel mine,” Jenia told her, “but we cannot let Walderon win. Don’t waste time worrying or weeping. Roarke needs us now, not later. So does Lord Giles need us,” she added, knowing Sanal must fight her own, inner battle, matching her fear of Walderon against her fondness for Lord Giles.

  Stepping closer to Lord Giles, Jenia reached out her arm and felt his big hand grasp her half-numb, tingling fingers. His other hand stretched toward Sanal. Gulping back a sob, Sanal held out her arm as Jenia had done. But when Jenia and Sanal tried to clasp hands they could not do it. Their abused fingers simply would not function. Then, as if from a great distance, Jenia heard Elwin speak.

  “I inherited no Power at all,” the squire said. “But I love Sir Roarke as if he were my older brother. Lord Giles, is it possible that I could serve as a conduit between the ladies? If so, I’ll gladly try.”

  “Yes.” Lord Giles’s smile at the squire was more of a grimace, for his teeth were clenched against the pain of Walderon’s attack on him and on Roarke. “Do it now, lad.”

  Sanal cried out when Elwin’s hand grabbed hers. Jenia smothered her need to protest the firm grip Elwin took on her own fingers.

  She had barely an instant to offer a silent prayer for strength before she felt the touch of Lord Giles’ clean, healthy Power. He was incredibly strong, despite the struggle he was waging against Walderon. Sanal’s Power was weak from disuse and Jenia sensed her aunt’s desperation. Where Elwin stood linking the two women, Jenia could discern only a hazy, smoky image, through which her Power and Sanal’s could flow. Then, knowing they dared not waste a moment more, she gave herself up completely to Lord Giles and his superior ability.

  In her mind she saw what Lord Giles could see. Roarke was backed against a gigantic boulder at the highest part of the mountain pass. The men he’d taken with him in pursuit of Walderon lay scattered about among the rocks, their swords still in their hands.

  Roarke, the only man left standing, clutched his sword in both fists, his face grey with the effort to remain steady against Walderon’s corrupt Power. Jenia saw his eyes bulge and she heard the scream that tore from his mouth as Walderon applied still more pain. The menacing figure of Walderon faced Roarke, while around them the boulders loomed as if preparing to crash down upon Roarke and crush him.

  Jenia was aware of something else, too. For once Sanal wasn’t shrinking with fear of her husband; instead, she was clinging to Lord Giles’ mind, offering all she possessed of Power for him to use as he wished. Jenia felt Lord Giles grasp Sanal’s strength, felt him receive it into his own soul and use it. Aching for his pain, and for Roarke’s, willing to die if necessary to save the man she loved, Jenia joined with them.

  Through the link amongst herself, Lord Giles, and Sanal, Jenia understood that they would never be stronger. This was the moment to strike at Walderon, before he could comprehend what they were doing.

  Strike they did, blinding Walderon with a light so clear and pure that he could not fight against it. Together, they wound their light around and around Walderon like ropes of flashing silver, cutting off his corrupt Power, forcing it back into his own twisted mind and wicked soul until he stood helpless, unable to move or to do more harm.

  Released from the foul Power that had held him, Roarke sagged against the rock, staring at Walderon in amazement. Around them, Roarke’s men began to stir. Within her own mind, Jenia understood that Walderon had stopped those men, not killed them, because he was saving his strength for something more important.

  Roarke’s death? she silently asked Lord Giles.

  No, came the answer. His own escape.

  Even as the thought took shape in her mind, Jenia was aware of the final effort. Lord Giles rendered Walderon unconscious, so Roarke and his men-at-arms could bind him with ropes not made by magic, but by men. Drained of much of his corrupt Power by a combined force of virtuous souls, Walderon would be unable to free himself.

  Their joint work was completed, for the moment at least. Lord Giles gently released Jenia, then Sanal. Set loose from the Power that had been coursing through him, Elwin sank to the ground and held his head between shaking hands.

  “Elwin?” Jenia knelt beside him, glad of an excuse not to stand until her own knees were steady again.

  “I’ve never in my life experienced anything like that,” Elwin whispered. “But it’s fading. I don’t – I can’t remember—”

  “You aren’t meant to remember, lad,” said Lord Giles, bending to touch the squire’s forehead. “You aren’t a mage and never will be one, but you’ve done great service here today. You helped to save your master. Let that be enough.”

  “I suppose so.” Elwin shook his head, then sprang to his feet with youthful buoyancy. “He’ll be returning soon and he’ll want water and some bread and cheese, I’m sure.”

  “That’s it, lad. Prepare for his return,” Lord Giles said in a soft tone that told Jenia he had placed that very ordinary concern into Elwin’s mind.

  “Jenia?” Lord Giles looked at her.

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. “I just have a slight headache and I doubt if it will last long. Aunt Sanal, are you all right?”

  “Yes.” Sanal attempted to rub her forehead, then looked at her red and swollen hands. “My fingers ache, every one of them. Even my nails ache.”

  Before Jenia could respond to her complaint Roarke appeared from around the bend in the path. Behind him came his four men-at-arms guarding Walderon, who was face down over his horse in the same manner in which he had carried Sanal for so many miles. Jenia could feel nothing but a cold pleasure at the sight of her vain and overbearing uncle in such an undignified position.

  Elwin took Roarke’s reins and he dismounted, moving a bit slowly and stiffly. He clapped a hand on the squire’s shoulder. “My thanks, Elwin, for guarding my lady in my absence. See to my horse first, then you can help me disarm.”

  Elwin and the horse went away, leaving Roarke and Jenia standing alone among the tumbled stones and the autumn-brown weeds at the side of the road. They faced each other for a long moment before Jenia spoke.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. “I knew you’d come.”

  “I am sorry for the delay,” Roarke said, sounding as if he’d only kept her waiting for an assignation in the castle garden. “It took us longer to find you than I expected.”

  “Oh, Roarke!” she gasped.

  He took her into his embrace and it was pure bliss to feel so safe in the circle of his strong arms, though she quickly discovered that chainmail was a useless material for blotting tears.

  “Roarke?”

  “Yes, my sweet.” His lips brushed her forehead.

  “Are you truly unhurt? Lord Giles and Sanal and I did the best we could against Walderon. Elwin helped,” she added, not wanting to leave the valiant squire out of the matter.

  “Then I must thank all of you.” His arms tightened around her. “Later, when we find a safer place to camp, I want to hear every detail.”

  At a sound behind them they turned to find Lord Giles watching them. Roarke took one arm from Jenia’s waist to clasp his friend’s hand in thanks.

  “Sanal cannot possibly ride any farther,” Lord Giles said. “Judging by the bruises on her face she has been badly treated, and I’ll wager that Walderon wasn’t any kinder to you, Jenia.”

  “I’ll be fine once my
hands have completely recovered,” Jenia said. She wiggled her fingers, testing them. “But poor Aunt Sanal was carried upside down for hours.”

  “We saw,” Lord Giles said dryly.

  “Very well, we will camp here, just where the trail widens,” Roarke decided. “Jenia, stay with your aunt. Lord Giles and I have much to do.”

  “I’ll have a couple of my squires gather as much wood as they can along the roadside and make a fire for you,” Lord Giles offered. “My dear, I haven’t yet thanked you adequately for your assistance. Without you and Sanal, I’m not certain I could have overcome Walderon. I had no idea how strong he was.”

  “And no doubt will be again,” Roarke added.

  “Not for quite some time,” Lord Giles said. “Not until after he reaches Calean City. Then let the Lord Mage Serlion attend to him.”

  “He deserves whatever Serlion and King Henryk may decide to do to him,” Roarke said coldly. “Walderon must be divested of his magic, and then punished.”

  Suddenly unable to speak, Jenia started toward Sanal, only to find that once again her legs wouldn’t carry her. Within a heartbeat Roarke slid an arm around her waist to support her until she reached her aunt. Sanal looked at her from sunken eyes. Her hands were as red and swollen as Jenia’s.

  “We’re safe from Walderon now,” Jenia said to her.

  “Oh, Jenia,” Sanal whispered, “I was sure he’d kill all of us. I was so afraid. I have always been alone with my Power. All I could ever do was shield myself from Walderon and hope he wouldn’t guess the truth about me. Until an hour ago I never dreamed how strong I could be if I linked with others.”

  Jenia’s hands being still too sore to use, she wrapped her arms around her aunt, pulling her close until Sanal’s head rested on her shoulder.

  Chapter 23

  Under Roarke’s direction a makeshift camp was quickly established and sentries were posted around the edges of it. The men who were not on sentry duty made fires and began to prepare their evening meal of bread, cheese, and ale.

  With Walderon bound hand and foot and three men-at-arms guarding him to be sure he did not find a way to escape again, Roarke was free to turn his attention to the women.

  They sat close to the fire, looking weary and bedraggled, their cold and swollen hands held out to the warmth of the leaping flames. Thanks to Elwin’s thoughtfulness, Roarke’s cloak covered Jenia’s shoulders, while Lord Giles had wrapped his own cloak around Sanal. Pathetic as they seemed to his sympathetic gaze, still Roarke felt they deserved a stern admonishment. He had always found it best to separate culprits when he interrogated them, but he didn’t want to call either of them away from the fire, so he sat down between them.

  “I am thankful to know you were not seriously hurt,” he began.

  “We were hurt badly enough,” Sanal said, flexing her fingers. “My hands are still numb. I wonder if I will ever be able to use a needle again.”

  “Of course you will.” Lord Giles was reassuring as he seated himself next to her. “Here, Sanal, let me rub your wrists. That often helps my squires who have overworked at sword practice and thus have strained their wrists and hands. You will see; the feeling will soon return. Expect prickles and stings at first, and then a burning sensation.”

  He took one of Sanal’s lower arms between his big hands and began to stroke gently from above her wrist to the tips of her fingers. Roarke frowned at Lord Giles, who only smiled back at him.

  “May we return to the subject of how you two were seized by Walderon?” Roarke demanded, looking from Sanal to Jenia. “How could either of you be so foolhardy as to visit the dungeon, alone, in the middle of the night?”

  “I went there to confront Walderon,” Sanal said, “to prove to myself that I was no longer afraid of him. Just as I reached the cell where he was being held, the door opened and Mott came out with Walderon close behind him.”

  “Aunt, did you know Mott?” Jenia asked.

  “No,” Sanal said. “Until that moment I had never seen him. But then, Walderon has many servants whom I have never met. I became aware of that fact some time ago, as I listened to him from the secret passages in the walls. Walderon would give orders to Burke, who then relayed his wishes to those men. They probably lived in the lower levels of the castle. Keeping them out of sight was to Walderon’s advantage. And now I realize that, contrary to what I previously believed, my nieces and I and the older servants are not the only castle dwellers who are familiar with those passageways.” She paused to smile at Lord Giles, who took her other arm and began to rub it.

  “Go on with your story, Lady Sanal,” Roarke urged. “What happened after you met your husband in the dungeon?”

  “As I said, Mott came out of Walderon’s cell and Walderon was close behind him. I knew at once that Mott was in the process of releasing him and that the two of them were up to no good at all. Even though Giles had bound Walderon’s magical power, he still could inflict physical harm.

  “I turned to run up the steps and raise the alarm. Plenty of men-at-arms and squires were sleeping in the great hall; help was just a short distance away. But Mott’s hand clamped over my mouth so I couldn’t cry out. On Walderon’s command, Mott dragged me into the cell and bound my hands. That was when I saw the poor, dead guard on Walderon’s pallet. “At first, I thought they were going to kill me, too, or at the very least leave me there with a corpse. But Walderon said he was going to use me as a hostage. Mott pushed me out of the cell and we were just starting down the stairs when we heard footsteps coming our way from above. Mott thrust me into Chantal’s cell and threatened to stab me if I made a sound. I think they expected to see Garit and thought they’d have to fight him, but it was Jenia who appeared, and they captured her, too.”

  “Jenia,” Roarke said when Sanal finally paused for breath, “why were you there? You hold such distaste for the dungeon. You must have had a very good reason for visiting Chantal’s cell. You were going to her cell, weren’t you? Not to Walderon’s?”

  “I wakened with the feeling that Chantal was calling me,” Jenia said. “She has been guiding me since the moment when I jumped into the sea from that dreadful ship. I’ve been wondering all through this terrible day why she told me to go to the dungeon. I have concluded that it must have been so I would confront and recognize Mott. He needed to be punished, for his was the hand that struck her down. Mott was the brute who stabbed Chantal.”

  Roarke could not speak; he just stared in amazement at the woman he loved while a chill slid down his spine.

  “How interesting,” Lord Giles murmured, his gaze on Jenia’s face.

  “Yes,” Jenia agreed. “You know, Roarke, I should have been terrified when Walderon seized me and forced me to go with him. Yet I haven’t been frightened so much as certain that you would find me. Chantal is the reason I wasn’t afraid, the reason why I could think with such clarity about what I needed to do. I could feel her protection around me. And now it’s truly over,” she finished. She’d tell him the rest of it later, tell him their conclusions about Walderon’s treasonous plans had been correct.

  “It won’t be finished until Walderon is punished,” Roarke said. “He is the villain who instigated your troubles, whose unbridled ambition caused Chantal’s death. He will be punished as he deserves, Jenia. I promise you that. But for the moment, you can rest. And you, too, Lady Sanal. Your long ordeal is over.”

  Knowing they’d have to travel slowly, Roarke sent Elwin and two men-at-arms riding ahead to Thury with the message that the ladies were safe and Walderon was a prisoner.

  When they reached the open area where the confrontation with Burke had taken place and where their men-at-arms still guarded the prisoners from that encounter, Lord Giles again suggested they spend the night, to give both the women and the wounded more time to recover. Seeing how pale Sanal appeared, and how Jenia struggled to sit upright on her horse, Roarke agreed.

  Thus, they did not return to Thury until late afternoon of the third day. Hal
and his men, still camping in the meadow, greeted them as they rode toward the drawbridge. Roarke turned aside to speak with the leader of the remnants of Walderon’s little army.

  “Tomorrow morning I am going to turn the lot of you over to Lord Giles and Lord Garit,” Roarke said. “They will speak with each man here and determine who is willing to forswear allegiance to Walderon and bind himself instead to the man whom King Henryk will choose as the new lord of Thury.”

  “Most of the men with me will do so gladly,” Hal asserted. “We did not like Walderon because he was not an honest lord.”

  “Fair enough. Lady Jenia told me that you treated her decently.” Roarke looked around at the little troop. “I’ll have ale and fresh bread sent out to you this evening.”

  “Thank you, Sir Roarke.”

  Their approach had been noted from the battlements and Garit had ordered the drawbridge lowered. As the sun set in flaming glory, turning the pale stone walls to gold, a partially recovered Walderon entered Thury to face the stares of the people and Garit’s cold glare.

  “You!” Walderon exclaimed, glaring back at Garit. “This is your doing, yours and Roarke and Giles.”

  “No,” Garit responded with a smile of genuine amusement. “You’ve been brought down by the very women you mistreated: your wife and Lady Jenia. I would express my hope that you have learned a lesson from all of this, but I fear it’s too late for you to learn anything.”

  “Don’t expect me to believe you,” Walderon said, his arrogance undiminished by the draining of his Power or by the ropes that bound him. “No woman could possibly be clever enough to defeat me. Not even your precious Chantal succeeded in outwitting me. After all, she’s dead, isn’t she?”

  “I’ll stay away from him from now on,” Garit said to Roarke, “lest I lose my temper completely and kill him with my bare hands. Such an act would not be diplomatic of me and might well embarrass the king of Kantia.” With that, Garit pivoted on one heel and stalked out of the bailey.