Hemlock

by N. J. Layouni

  With every heartbeat, she longed for Vadim. With every fiber of her being, she wanted him. Even so, she hoped he wouldn’t return home any time soon. Not until the danger had passed. He’d come for her. In the meantime, all she had to do was stay hidden. If he still breathed, he’d find her again.

  By the time they reached the cavern of the waterfall, it was almost dark.

  Wobbling with exhaustion, Martha threw down her pack and crumpled to her knees before the entrance. Black spots danced before her eyes. Food might have helped, but the thought of eating revolted her. How could she eat when the memory of the man’s violent death was so fresh in her mind? His dried blood lay caked beneath her fingernails, and her clothes were stiff with it. More tears slid down her cheeks. She’d been crying off and on all day.

  It’s just shock. It’s natural.

  With a sigh, she rubbed her hands over her swollen eyes. She’d never witnessed death so close before. Both her parents were dead, but she’d been a toddler at the time and remembered nothing about it. A car accident was one thing, being shot to death was quite another. To see someone die like that and be unable to help them was horrific.

  Forge whined. He was hungry even if she wasn’t.

  “Okay.” She hauled herself up off the ground. “I’m coming.”

  She set up camp right where she’d dropped her pack. The cavern entrance was well hidden and afforded her with an unobstructed view of the paths that lead to it. No one would be sneaking up on her tonight. Even the threat of wolves didn’t worry her. Forge was a wonderful early warning system, and she had a big stick right where she could get at it. “Let’s go see if we can find anything to burn, hmm?”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Martha hid herself away for two days. Although her rations were running low, she was afraid to venture far from the protection of the cavern. At least the weather remained kind. The gentle sun made her isolation slightly more bearable. Time passed and all the hours flowed into a big void of nothing.

  She bathed in the chilly waters of the great waterfall. Deafened by the noise of thundering water, she scrubbed her clothes on rocks beside the pool, beating and pounding the bloody garments against the rough granite rocks. But the telltale dark brown stains on her dress and cloak remained, no matter how many times she washed them. The outlaw’s blood was as difficult to erase as the memory of his death.

  Out, damned spot. She felt like a modern-day Lady Macbeth trapped in a medieval world.

  On the third morning, increasingly concerned about her dwindling supplies—to say nothing of her flaking sanity—she decided to risk a trip down the ridge to see what was happening in Darumvale.

  She skulked along feeling horribly exposed, grateful she was wearing her dowdiest dress and drab cloak. There was nowhere to hide. No trees to duck behind, and few bushes of any size. But what else could she do?

  She couldn’t wait forever. What if no one ever came for her? Of course, by ‘no one’, she meant Vadim. Where was he? An image of the dead outlaw, stuck with arrows, flashed into her mind making her flinch.

  No. Vadim wasn’t dead. She wouldn’t believe it.

  Forge enjoyed the change of scenery. Bounding ahead, he sniffed at every new scent with enthusiasm, tail wagging.

  Martha envied him. I want to be a dog. Look at him. Not a care in the world.

  “You’re cracking up, girl,” she muttered. Isolation wasn’t doing her mental health any favors. She needed people—positively hungered for human company, for news. Vadim, as always, was number one on her wish list.

  Please, God, let him be okay.

  Darumvale was less than an hour away. The village lay quiet in the early morning light, and at first sight, everything looked peaceful. Martha settled down on her stomach, looking down from her secret eyrie, and waited for the village to wake. Gradually, as the sun rose higher, several tiny figures left the Great Hall and walked across the street toward the stables. Who was it? It was impossible to tell from this distance.

  Just as she was debating whether to move closer or not, her mind threw out a troubling thought. Why wasn’t anyone working in the fields? The sun was up, and there was still a lot of planting to be done.

  Suddenly, Darumvale’s apparent tranquility looked terribly artificial. As if to confirm her suspicions, a ray of sun struck one of the tiny figures as it emerged from the stables leading a horse. The light bounced off his chest as brightly as any mirror. Her heart thumped hard in her chest. He was wearing armor. And as other figures emerged into the light, she realized he wasn’t the only one.

  She gasped. Soldiers. Shit!

  Terrified of being spotted, she shuffled back from the edge and called Forge to her side. It was unlikely anyone would see them so high up, but she dared not risk it. Not everyone was as short-sighted as she was. Settling back against a grassy bank, she wiped her clammy hands on her skirt. Traveling back along the narrow exposed ridge in full daylight was too dangerous. Her only other option was to wait until dusk. And that lay many hours away.

  It proved to be the longest, most nerve-wracking day of her life, spent sweltering in the heat of the sun. By midday, Martha was forced to hide beneath her cloak to escape its hottest rays. Forge was just as miserable—although he’d found himself a small bush and crawled beneath it to escape the worst of the heat.

  Fortunately, she’d brought a small bladder of water which she shared with the dog, rationing it carefully, and cursing herself for not bringing more. There wasn’t so much as a puddle nearby. As the minutes ticked by, her clothes clung uncomfortably to her body, sweat running between her breasts in a constant, unpleasant trickle. Beneath her scarf, her hair plastered against her head and neck in soggy curls.

  This wasn’t one of your better ideas, Bigalow.

  But at least she was alive. Free. Her situation was better that of her Darumvale friends. How must they be faring? And where the hell was Vadim? Her mood swung from concern to anger and back in the space of a few heartbeats. The lack of information was driving her mad.

  Overcoming her fear of discovery, Martha peeped over the edge of the hill again. The horsemen had gone. In their absence, the villagers emerged from their houses. Like timid animals, they scurried about their business then returned home. But not all the soldiers had left. There were four outside the Great Hall: two stationed by the doors, while the other pair patrolled the perimeter.

  There was no sign of Sylvie, Seth or Ma. If the Evil Earl ever learned they’d consorted with outlaws… She shivered, praying they’d not met the same fate as Vadim’s friend.

  Don’t be daft. Why would they guard the hall if there’s no one left alive inside? Use your brain.

  As the hours passed, the evil spectre of the sun gradually sank lower in the sky, and shadows crept along the hill. The longest day was finally almost over. With great relief, she called to Forge then set off back along the ridge, adopting a stooping walk until the village was out of sight.

  Her legs tingled with pins and needles as life flowed back into them. Grimacing, she stamped her feet, then took off her scarf, ruffling her sweaty hair in the heavenly breeze. Bliss.

  The mother of all headaches pounded away behind her left eye, and an image of Aunt Lulu’s well-stocked medicine cabinet floated into her mind to torment her. Tablets. Lovely tablets.

  On the horizon, only the vivid orange rim of the sun remained, staining the sky with brilliant colors. It was so lovely that, despite herself, Martha smiled. It was like a child’s messy painting, shades of blue and violet, red and pink jumbled together and splattered carelessly onto an ever-darkening canvas. She sighed and breathed in the heavy fragrance of flowers, borne up on the cooling wind. The world looked perfect.

  Unfortunately, the reality of this land wasn’t nearly so pretty.

  They came across a little river, and the temptation of its gurgling waters could not be ignored. While Forge bounded about in the shallows, Martha stripped off and wallowed in a patch of deep water beneath the bank. Closing h
er eyes, she leaned back, sighing as the icy water lapped over her feverish skin.

  It was almost dark when they finally started up the hill to their cave. Even with a full moon for company, being out at night scared her. They walked fast and reached camp in double time.

  She looked up at the heavens, and the man in the moon stared back at her from his black, star-studded blanket. How was it the moon and stars looked the same as they did back in the twenty-first century? She still couldn’t get her head around that one.

  Forge stiffened beside her, rumbling a warning deep in his throat. Martha froze. She felt it too. Something wasn’t right.

  Gripping the dog’s collar, she strained her eyes, looking toward the cavern entrance. It seemed peaceful enough, but she didn’t move. A primitive instinct urged her to wait.

  Then a shadow detached itself from the external wall of the cavern. She gasped. It was the shape of a man. Her stomach lurched. A man carrying a big, nasty-looking sword.

  They’d found her lair.

  “Ssh, Forge.” Her warning came too late. The man was close enough to hear his growls. The shadow turned in their direction and looked straight at her.

  Shit!

  A dozen thoughts flitted simultaneously through her mind, while adrenaline flooded her veins and pumped her muscles. She wanted to run. He’d probably catch her anyway. But what else could she do? She certainly couldn’t fight him.

  She held Forge’s collar tighter, the metal buckle biting into her fingers. How far would she get before she learned the pain of an arrow in her back? She’d have to take her chances.

  The brutality of the Earl’s men was legendary among the people of Darumvale. Surrender wasn’t an option. What did his thugs know of mercy?

  “C’mon, Forge!” She wheeled around, trying to drag the dog with her. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t cooperate. He stopped growling and began whining instead, his long whip-like tail lashing madly through the air.

  “Martha? Can it be you?” a familiar voice called out of the darkness, a voice that chased all of the shadows from her heart.

  “Vadim!” She ran to him, stumbling over heather roots in her haste. Her stomach flipped, dancing with happy butterflies. “Oh, thank God!”

  “Where in Erde have you been?” Vadim thrust his sword back into its sheath with a horrid metallic squeal then ripped the scarf from his face. “I have spent hours looking for you.”

  “Where do you think I’ve been?” Her relief died at the same moment as her smile. “I’ve been stuck out here for two bloody days and—”

  “I meant now.” He grabbed her upper arms and hauled her to him. “Where have you been until so late? Tell me the truth!”

  “Darumvale. Ouch!” What the hell was wrong with him? “Will you let go of me?”

  “You went back to the village?” His eyes narrowed, glinting unnaturally in the moonlight.

  She didn’t like the way he was looking at her at all. Her neck prickled. In a blinding flash of clarity, she suddenly understood the secret workings of his mind. And it wasn’t pretty. “You don’t trust me at all. Do you?”

  He didn’t attempt to deny it. A bitter smile curved his lips. “Well done. You see the truth at last.” His fingers dug even deeper into her arms. “Please continue. What else do you read in my expression, m’lady?”

  Her chest ached as if he’d punched her. “Even now, after all this time…” After all the time they’d spent together. After he’d made her fall in love— She shook her head. What an idiot she was. A stupid, gullible fool. “You think I’m in league with the Evil Earl.”

  “By your own admission, you traveled to Darumvale and back this day. An impossible task without Lord Edgeway’s blessing.”

  And this was what he thought of her? “Let go of me. Now!” As his grip loosened, Martha pulled free and rubbed her aching arms. If only she could massage away the pain in her heart so easily.

  Vadim took a deep breath and stepped back a pace, his hands clenched into fists at his side. “Will you not deny it? I admit I would be most disappointed if you did not at least attempt to convince me of your innocence.”

  “Deny it?” She widened her eyes. “Of course I do!” she cried, her temper needled by the injustice of his accusation. She had to make him understand. “I didn’t—”

  “Oh? So how did you manage to return, hmm? Would you have me believe that the Earl simply allow you walk free?”

  The softness of his voice didn’t fool her. The quieter he was, the greater the oncoming storm.

  “What else am I to believe, Martha?” he continued. “Darumvale crawls with soldiers, yet you manage to travel there and back without detection?” He looked down his nose at her, his expression akin to disgust. “Do not take me for a fool, m’lady. You have played me quite long enough.”

  “I’ve played you?” Martha stared up at him in disbelief. This man, her ‘friend’, didn’t trust her at all. He’d shared his darkest secrets with her, fed and cared for her, but all the time…

  “You weren’t protecting me at all, were you?” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “You were softening me up.” As the ugly truth revealed itself, her strength deserted her. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Isn’t that what they say, Vadim?” Her legs buckled and she sank down onto the heather, skirts pooled around her.

  Vadim remained silent, watching her. His expressionless features gave her nothing.

  A mask without a mask. “You only kept me with you to stop me reporting back to the Earl. That’s why you didn’t want me moving to Edgeway, isn’t it? Was everything you ever told me a lie?” She laughed bitterly and shook her head. “Oh, Bigalow, you’re the biggest fecking eejit that ever drew breath.”

  Vadim crouched down to stroke Forge, who was still demanding his attention. She battled not to cry as she watched the two of them together. Even the dog had betrayed her. What was it with her and males? For the longest time, Vadim had been her anchor in this strange world. Because of him, she’d learned to carry on.

  Now he’d gone and cut the rope. The weight of being truly lost was almost too heavy to bear.

  She wanted to look at him, to see his eyes again. This was all a big misunderstanding. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed if they talked. But Vadim’s hair hung in a long dark veil, shielding him from her.

  Tell him the truth. Make him believe you.

  When he finally glanced at her, she knew it’d be pointless to try. In that one unguarded moment, she read in his eyes what he attempted to conceal. He hated her. A second later, the expression was gone, but the pain in her heart burned on.

  “So, where do we go from here?” It was all she could do to keep her voice steady, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her in pieces. He couldn’t have everything. No way.

  Vadim dismissed Forge with a quiet word and stood up. “You admit it, then? You are Godric’s creature.”

  Martha stared at his long fingers as they rested casually on the hilt of his sword. A shiver prickled along her spine. “Would you believe me if I said I wasn’t?”

  “Probably not,” he admitted softly. His fingers tightened upon the sword handle. “But you should at least try and convince me.”

  “Or what?” Her blood chilled. “You’ll kill me?” Is that what he meant?

  For the first time, she glimpsed Vadim the killer looking out at her from the cold dark depths of his eyes. Foolishly, she’d believed he was a pussycat of a man, and that none of the killing stuff was real. Now, as fear trickled into her heart, she realized her mistake.

  She scrambled to her feet, staggering like a drunk, her mind reeling. “But you found me out on the hill that day!” She flung her arm out, pointing in the general direction. “You’ve seen my clothes, my phone. How can I be an agent for the Evil Earl? You’re the first person I met here.”

  “So you claim.” His mouth twisted into a harsh smile. “Your arrival was most conveniently timed, was it not?”

  A hot ball
of anger flashed up from her toes and into her chest, melting away her weakness. Let him think what he wanted.

  “You’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you? So, what’s it to be, Vadim?” She marched over to him, her head held high. “Will you cut me down with your sword? Or, perhaps you’d prefer to stick me full of arrows, like the Earl’s men did to your poor friend?” She snorted in revulsion. “For all your manners, you’re no better than they are. You make me sick!”

  At the mention of his fallen comrade, a chink of emotion cracked the impenetrable mask of Vadim’s face. “You were with Guy when he died?” He pronounced the name so it rhymed with ‘key’.

  “Guy?” So, that was the name of her temporary guardian—or guard. “Of course I was with him. Who do you think buried him—the Earl’s men?”

  “I found his grave. I wondered if you had built it,” Vadim said quietly. “Thank you for that, at least.”

  “I didn’t do it for you. I did it for him. Stuff your thanks! It was the least I could do for someone who bled to death in my arms.” She was pleased when she saw him flinch.

  Good. I’ll make you suffer before I die, you bastard!

  “Yes, there was lots of blood, Vadim. I’m still covered in the stuff. Look.” She thrust her hand close to his face. “I can’t get it out from beneath my nails. See?”

  Vadim closed his eyes and turned his head away.

  Martha softened. Even now, despite everything, she loved him. “He told me to tell you that he’d tried to stop them,” she said gently. “Why would I stay with him if I was meant to betray him, you utter fuckwit? Why would I bother burying him, hmm?”