by Judith Post
He could feel Thurstan watch him as he strode away. He was near the stairs to the turret before he heard Thurstan turn and head to his own small room. What had Ignisia sensed about him this evening? Her words implied the minstrel was more than mere mortal. Should they fear him? Be wary? Would he settle in the castle? Or was he hiding something? Was there a reason he roamed from one serfdom to the next?
* * *
A week passed quickly, and there was no sign of any animals killed in either Christian or Brom's lands. When the moon finally gave off enough light for them to journey outside at night, the men stalked the forests, in search of the monster. Jarman accompanied them.
"Between your fire, my fangs, and Brom's dragon, we should survive," he said.
Jarman and Thurstan rode to Gilbert's castle on the weekend, in theory, to trade. Christian sent his scribe to keep track of their transactions, but in truth, the only thing the men brought back was yards of fine wool and satisfied sighs.
Another week passed, and Christian found no signs of a huge wolf anywhere. Again, he sent Jarman and Thurstan to Gilbert's castle, this time, to buy bolts of fabric for his mother and Brina. They stayed a few days to transact their business, and when they returned, Thurstan had the look of a besotted man.
Brom and Christian went out each night, but only for a few hours. By the end of another week, they'd almost decided the beast had moved on, that he only stopped at their lands to feed before going to the next serfdom.
A full moon came, and when Christian looked for Thurstan the next morning, he found his scribe, sick in bed. A fever gave him the chills. He was pale and weak. Lady Enid sent special brews, and Brina came to sit with him every few hours. Several days later, the disease had passed, and news came that Gilbert had returned home from his journey. Whispers traveled on the wind that he'd begged for new dealings with tradesmen in town, but had no luck. Few, if any, trusted the lord in a bargain.
Sunlight spilled on Christian's castle the day he prepared to visit Gilbert's lands. Jarman could not accompany him.
"You dare not go alone," Lady Enid warned. "You'll be safe with friends by your side, even if you might not succeed in your mission, but the cards insist that you cannot go on your own."
Thurstan looked at Christian. "We're friends, are we not?"
"You've barely recovered from your illness. You should remain here," Christian insisted.
Thurstan shook his head, disagreeing. "I'd die, defending you, my lord."
Christian stared. The minstrel looked sturdy enough for battle, but he doubted he was trained. Before he could answer, Brom's voice came from the doorway. "So would I. We rule together, even if our kingdoms are now separate, and Jarman's already at Gilbert's castle. He left last night and traveled in darkness."
Satisfied, Lady Enid nodded. "Together, you'll all return, but some drama will play out. The signs foretell this trip will bring surprises."
Christian and Brom exchanged glances. They'd already had more surprises than they thought possible. Thurstan shrugged. "I'll have more inspiration for songs," he said.
Christian's horse pranced nervously as they started out, but Thurstan's steed stayed steady. Brom rode his chestnut bay while Lothar flew above them. The dragon never let Brom out of its sight.
Flying was a much faster option, and Brom would have loaned them dragons, but Christian was determined to do everything right. It was nightfall before they reached Gilmore's castle. Christian expected to make his way through sleepy villages before reaching the fortress walls. No fence protected the villagers here, and the curtains that hung at huts in place of doors did little to keep wild animals out. Dogs barked warnings as they passed, but tonight, torches bounced off white-washed walls as peasants dashed about the streets.
Had the beast come to this village to prey on mortals? No screams split the air, only wails and sobs. Had the wolf already come and gone? They started forward when a shadow dropped before them. Jarman. His fangs gleamed in the moonlight, and his face was scrunched in fury.
"Gilbert's rounding up anyone suspected of witchcraft. Villagers are pointing at one another, screaming accusations. I worried you wouldn't get here in time. They have Emma and Isolda, and they're piling wood around their poles."
"Why? What made them suspect the sisters?" Brom demanded.
"Only women who claim huts are tied to burn," Jarman hissed. "Their neighbors want their property for their grown children."
Christian grimaced in disgust. His boots tapped the side of his horse, and it leapt forward. He raced behind Jarman, barely able to keep up with the vampire. Brom and Thurstan were right behind him. When they came to the common area of the village, wooden poles were hammered into the ground and five women were tied to them.
"Stop!" Christian scattered peasants as his horse pawed back and forth.
People fled, retreating from the nervous steeds. Gilbert strode out of the shadows, accompanied by a dozen guards.
"What business do you have in my land?" His voice rang with arrogance and anger. "These are my people. I can do with them as I wish."
Sad, but true. Christian reached forward to calm his horse. "Then sell them to me. I came to make an offer on Emma and Isolda. I'm in need of a weaver. I've bought their goods, and they're of high quality."
"They're witches!" Gilbert hissed.
Christian turned in his saddle to study the women. He could smell their fear. He shrugged. "They don't seem to have any powers that I can see. You've captured them, haven't you, with no struggle? What sort of magic do they have? My weakest witch could fling sparks from her fingertips. These women did nothing to defend themselves, by the looks of it."
Gilbert frowned. He bellowed into the crowd, gathered around them. "Who captured these women? How did you do it?"
A peasant stepped forward, carrying a pitchfork. He had gray hair, few teeth, and a sly quality about him. "We dragged them from their huts."
Jarman stalked toward him, and people retreated to let him pass. "Why do you accuse them?"
The man nodded toward the tree line, just past the farm fields. "They disappear some nights, probably slink into the forest to perform devil's rites."
"They come to meet me," Jarman hissed.
"And me." Thurstan dismounted to stand, shoulder to shoulder, with the vampire.
"Still an unholy union," Gilbert snapped. "Consorting with the undead and a neighboring enemy."
"We're not enemies yet." Christian's voice cut like steel. His threat was clear. He and Brom left their horses to join Jarman and Thurstan.
Gilbert gave a nod, and his guards notched their weapons. "Now!" The arrows flew toward the women, not them. In an instant, Jarman stood before Emma. Wooden shafts sank into his arms and legs. He ripped them out. One hit his chest and bounced off. He grinned. Christian had fashioned a mesh vest for him. His body rippled with power and his fangs grew to murderous lengths.
Christian burst into flames and threw fire in an arc. It caught the rest of the arrows in midair and turned them to ashes. More guards stepped from the shadows, and Thurstan threw back his head and roared. His body contorted. His clothes ripped, and fur covered his flesh. When he finished, a monstrous wolf stood on two legs in front of Isolda.
Christian gaped. So did everyone else.
Peasants raised pitchforks and shovels, but a burst of flames shot down to form a line in the earth, and Lothar landed beside Brom. Smoke curled from the dragon's nostrils, and people retreated further.
Christian looked at Gilbert. "I've never bothered anyone's serfdom, and you haven't bothered mine. If you don't want witches, I do. I'll buy each of these women, and we'll leave in peace."
"Fifty coins each!" Gilbert obviously thought it an impossible amount.
"Done." Christian pulled on a string that circled his neck. A leather pouch slid into view. He opened it and counted out two hundred fifty coins. He walked forward and pressed them into Gilbert's hand. "For all five of them."
A gray-haired woman gasped
. "I have no magic, my lord. I'm of little value."
Christian waved her words away, saddened to hear them, and Jarman and Brom began untying the knots that held the women to poles. When they finished, Jarman took Emma and spread his wings. They disappeared together. Thurstan returned to his human form, and Christian tossed him a blanket to cover himself. He climbed on his horse and pulled Isolda up behind him, and they turned to leave.
"I need three more horses," Christian said. "Do you have three to sell?"
"Not for you." Gilbert dared anyone to disagree.
Brom shrugged. "Lothar?"
The dragon lowered its head, and Brom tossed each woman on its back. "Grab a scale and hang on tight."
Lothar lifted them gently into the air and disappeared into the darkness.
Gilbert tilted his head in thought. He looked at Christian and Brom, and a smile twisted his lips. "Just the two of you. Imagine that."
Christian studied him. His mother's words rang in his ears. Stay together and you'll be safe. He narrowed his eyes at Gilbert. "You still have some honor, don't you?"
"Not so much." He motioned for his guards to spread out to circle them. The men hesitated, but Gilbert barked, "Your heads or theirs!"
Brom's hand went to his sword. So did Christian's. They stood, back to back, and Christian stoked the fires within him. Then a bolt of flames shot from the sky and scorched Gilbert where he stood. Not just a blast, but a furnace. Gilbert's charred remains sagged to the earth, and the guards darted behind huts for cover.
Brom grinned. "Lothar never lets me out of his sight."
Christian threw back his head and laughed. "I'm learning to love dragons more each day."
Brom pointed his sword at the guards and serfs. "Touch us, and my wife will destroy this kingdom. She commands an army of dragons, and she'll lead them here."
The guards and peasants dropped their weapons and stared at each other in confusion.
"What will happen to us?" one of them asked. "The lord's wife died. His daughters married and left here."
Christian looked at their pitiful huts and gardens. He shook his head at the sad condition of the fortress. Gilbert must have taxed everyone to extremes and still not have been able to maintain his castle. "Brom needs people in his lands. He's a fair lord. He'll expect you to have honor, but he'll treat you well."
"You expect us to live among dragon keepers and witches?" a man demanded.
Brom shrugged. "Suit yourselves. Stay here and take your chances or travel to our lands. Your choice."
He and Christian started to mount their horses when another guard yelled, "Wait! Can I ride along?"
People scrambled for horses and hitched them to wagons. Peasants pressed into the tight spaces to travel with them. Mothers carried babies and children and crammed them on their laps.
"Bring plenty of coats and blankets," Christian warned. "It's a cold journey."
A few chose to stay. The peasant who'd dragged Emma and Isolda from their hut was one of them, Christian noticed. He was marching up the path to lay claim to the castle. Not so wise. The stragglers would be vulnerable to thieves and mercenaries.
It took much longer to return to Brom's lands. People greeted them with joy and relief when they finally arrived. Word had spread of their coming, and Ignisia opened the gates to welcome them. The peasants gaped at the work on the outside wall. Their eyes widened in wonder at the multitude of huts and gardens, at the doors to shut at night instead of curtains to draw. Brom was even digging a well for each village, just as Christian had done.
A mother pulled two, small children tight and sighed with relief. Christian understood her feelings. Her life would be much better here.
"Can you stay a night?" Brom asked.
But Christian shook his head. "I miss my…."
"Brina," Ignisia finished for him. "We understand."
He pulled his wool cloak more tightly around him on his ride home. He found Thurstan and Isolda, waiting to see him, when he stepped into the courtyard.
It was a gray day. No sun. "Jarman and Emma? Did they return safely?"
"Jarman built a cottage in the forest," Isolda told him. "Emma's living there."
Christian gave a quick nod before Brina ran to him and threw herself in his arms. "What were you thinking? Your mother told you to stay together. You could have been killed!"
He nuzzled his face in her thick, honey-colored hair. She wore only a wool shawl. He wrapped her in his cloak. "You'll freeze out here."
"You could have died!" She pulled away from him and placed her hands on his cheeks, raking his face with her gaze. "You don't look the worse for wear."
"We fought together, but had to separate to bring people home."
She took a step back from him, her hands on her hips. "You trust your fire magic too much. It's no match for an army. I could have lost you."
He deserved her anger, he knew. "I wasn't careful enough, I admit. Next time, I will be." Christian had never expected Gilbert to sink so low, but his mother had warned him. He should have been more cautious. As they walked toward the castle, he tossed Thurstan a curious look. "Does Brina know?"
"That he's a werewolf? That's rather intriguing, don't you think?" She snuggled under his cloak once more to stop her shivers.
"Will you leave now that we know your secret?" Christian asked. "That's why you constantly travel, isn't it? To hide from mortals?"
Thurstan looked troubled. "My pack tossed me out when I was still newly changed, found me too moody and brooding. I've been roaming, a lone wolf, ever since. But if you'd let me, I'll stay here."
Isolda blushed. "We were hoping you'd allow us to build a cottage in the forest, close to Jarman and Emma's."
Christian smiled. "A wonderful solution! I can't think of anything better." He'd worried what Thurstan might do. "I'll have a steward and a weaver, and two good friends."
Thurstan frowned. "I do change at each full moon, though. I can't stop myself. I tried and it almost killed me."
"That's what made you take ill?"
Thurstan nodded. "If you let me run and hunt once a month, I'll harm no one. I've been a wolf a long time. I've learned control, but I need the hunt."
Christian stopped to study him. "When you first came, you hunted every night. We found carcasses every morning. Why?"
Thurstan grimaced, embarrassed. "I was starving. I had no food until you took me in and fed me."
Christian laughed, gesturing toward the expanse of land around his fortress. "We have plentiful game. One deer a month will hardly be missed."
He strode indoors with a bounce in his step. Lady Enid had been right, as usual. The last month had brought a few surprises, along with a shock or two, but they were all the better for it. A new kind of magic had entered their lands. And it was a good thing.
One Spare Serfdom
The Fourth Christian & Brina Novella
A Lunch Hour Read
by
Judith Post
For my Mom and my sisters: Patty & Mary.
I got lucky.
Thank you to Michael Prete at http://vertex10.com/ for my covers.
Christian paced from the fireplace in the kitchen to the arch that led upstairs to the Great Hall, back and forth, back and forth, until Brom said, "Enough. Your mother's with Brina. Lady Enid's a healer. Your wife will be fine."
"Being with child isn't the same as being sick," Christian said. "But maybe Mother will be able to settle her stomach. She can't keep down food."
"Cook's there, too. She's a midwife, isn't she? Knows a thing or two about childbirth." Jarman topped his tankard with ale and took a quick sip. "My kind have no such worries. Vampires cannot sire as mortals do."
"You sire with fangs," Brom said. "An even trickier process, if I understand it correctly."
Jarman waggled a finger at his friend. "My pack abstains from human blood. You know that."
Indeed. How could they forget? Not enough time had passed since a cruel tyrant capture
d one of Jarman's pack and forced her to convert his men into a vampire army. She'd gagged on their blood until she true-died.
A gloomy thought. It made Christian's worries fester. Was Brina any better? She'd been so sick, so often, that he feared she'd lose their baby.
He fought to concentrate. Brom and Jarman had come to discuss important issues. He needed to focus.
Footsteps clattered on the outside stairs that led to the basement kitchen, and Thurstan finally joined them. Christian's werewolf/scribe gave a lopsided grin. "I thought I'd be early. The sun only set a short while ago."
Jarman glanced out the high, barred windows to the cobblestones of the shadowed courtyard. "Glad you could finally make it. I didn't realize it was such a long walk from your hut. I left the forest at dusk and traveled fast. Maybe we should have come to you?"
"Too close for comfort. Not great for entertaining your likes. Neither vampires nor werewolves enjoy scents and pulses pressed upon them." Thurstan looked from one of them to the other. "Now, if Jarman's done enjoying himself, what problem needs our attention?"
Brom answered. "After the four of us killed Gilbert, his fortress sat, empty. That, in itself, has proved a problem. Thieves, vagabonds, and mercenaries often camp there. Occasionally, they cause enough trouble, Christian or I have to drive them out. But someone new has laid claim to Gilbert's lands, and she's left dead bodies in her wake."
"Her path?" Thurstan frowned, surprised.
"How do you know this?" Jarman dragged a stool to Cook's heavy, wooden, work table and perched on it.
"A serf who came to my lands after Gilbert's death returned to visit his brother, who stayed behind. He found his brother's body, and all of the others' who remained, lying to rot in the sun."
Christian scowled. "We had no choice but to kill Gilbert. He waged a war on witches and meant to burn Jarman's Emma and Thurstan's Isolda, along with three other women."