22 Nights

by WINSTEAD JONES, LINDA

  Soon he forgot everything but her body and his, her need and his. He closed his eyes, too, and gave everything he was over to physical sensation, to his pleasure and hers.

  Bela’s wide smile, as she dropped onto him sated and happy, was catching. Merin found himself smiling as he ran his fingers through her hair, as he possessively caressed her bare hip. She did not lie there long, however, but soon jumped from him and reached for their clothes. When she ran across a piece of his clothing which had been mixed with her own, she tossed it to him.

  Dressing while attached to another person wasn’t easy, but they had learned how to make it work. In a matter of moments they were fully clad, shirts to boots.

  Clothed and ready to meet the day, they turned toward the small cave. They left their packs at the rugged campsite, piled atop their blankets, as they did not intend to remain in the small crevice very long and there was nothing among their supplies they were likely to need. Still, since yesterday’s attack Merin did not want to be too far from his weapon. He strapped his sword onto his back, and Bela carried Kitty.

  Kitty’s grip began to glow as they neared the cave, as if the sword was anxious, as if there was something here. Something important.

  Merin knelt down and peeked inside the cave, shifting his body aside so the light could enter and he could see more clearly. The cave was low, and it was impossible to tell how deep it might be, as it was shadowed at this time of day. Early afternoon would be the best time to see deep into the cave, he imagined. That was when the sunlight would shine directly inside.

  But they did not need the sun. They had Kitty.

  Merin moved forward on his belly. Bela and Kitty were right behind him. Just when he was certain he had reached the far end of the crevice, another segment was revealed. The small cave was much deeper than he’d thought was possible. They continued to scoot forward. Farther back, the cave actually got larger, higher, and a bit wider.

  “I think this might be the wrong cave,” Bela said nervously. “The one where Clyn found Kitty was not this deep, I’m sure of it.”

  Who could be sure of anything where Kitty was concerned?

  Finally, Merin saw the end of the cave. Kitty’s grip glowed brightly, and when her illumination hit the rear wall, Merin caught a glimpse of what looked to be a crude drawing. No, not a drawing, he decided as he slipped forward and looked more closely. A carving, one that appeared to be very old.

  “There’s something here,” he said as he scooted closer. Bela was right behind him; necessarily so, as they remained tied together. Not for long, perhaps, but still physically bound. “I’d like a closer look.” He moved up onto his knees. His body occasionally blocked the light, and without the light from Kitty’s grip the images that had caught his attention disappeared completely. “Did you see these the last time you were here?” he asked, turning about to look at Bela.

  “No,” she whispered. “I don’t think this is the right cave. Maybe I remembered wrong.”

  “I doubt that,” Merin muttered.

  Bela craned her neck to look around him. “What is it, exactly? ”

  “I can’t tell.” It was frustrating. The closer he moved, the more he blocked the light. Just when he was about to make sense of the cave drawing, it disappeared. He was close enough to touch the back wall now, and yet he could see nothing. He rubbed his hand against the wall and felt nothing: no indentions in the rock, no crevices in the stone, even though he knew they were there.

  Suddenly the cave was filled with brilliant light. The burst of illumination came from Kitty’s crystal, he knew, but he did not have time to dwell upon the why for long, as he became lost in the image before him.

  The people in the carving were crudely drawn. There was a man with curling hair, and a woman dressed in men’s clothing. They were connected by a string from one waist to the other, and by a sword which hovered in the air between them. Merin studied the carving closely. There was discoloration around the cuts in the stone, and the carving had been dulled and softened by time. Lots of time, if his estimation was correct.

  And yet . . .

  “That’s us,” Bela said.

  “I believe it is.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “It’s not,” he whispered.

  The cave was ominously silent, as was all of Forbidden Mountain, and Merin suddenly realized how far he and Bela had traveled into the mountain to find this impossible carving. Backing out, which was their only choice, would take some time. He’d thought the situation could get no worse when Kitty’s light went out, the mountain rumbled ominously, and pebbles began to fall all around them.

  Chapter Twelve

  SAVYN knew it was morning because the warmth of the sun touched his face as he felt his way to the door of the hut where Trinity had attacked and blinded him. Sunlight came through the fallen side of the shelter, as well as through the door. The room was warm, and would be warmer late in the day, after the sun had been shining on the roof for many hours.

  He knew Lady Leyla was here because he could smell her sweet scent, he could hear the soft swish of her skirt as she moved.

  In their days here he had memorized the dimensions of and obstacles in the very small hut enough so that he no longer tripped and fell with every other step. He could make his way from their improvised bed to the door in four steps. His hand found the rusted door handle. He had to pull hard to make the ill-fitting door move, and when he did so, he felt the wash of warm spring air on his face. There was no hint of light, however. He wished every morning for that light to be there, he prayed for a sign that he would heal and recover his sight.

  Every morning he was disappointed.

  His head hurt all the time, sometimes sharply, at other times dully. He always felt as if his skull was not large enough to contain what was inside it. The blow to his head had done more than draw blood and leave him senseless for a while. It had damaged him deeply, in places he could not see or even imagine. When the pain left, would his sight return? Would the pain ever leave?

  In their days here Leyla had kept herself busy making the place habitable and taking care of him. She’d even shaved his face with the razor she’d found in Trinity’s supplies. They had several days’ worth of food still, thanks to the assassin’s saddlebags, so that was not a worry. Not yet. There was a creek a short walk from the hut, just inside the forest on the other side of the road, so they had water for cleaning and for drinking. He was sorry—deeply sorry—that Lady Leyla had to be the one to fetch that water, day after day.

  Savyn felt as if he were caught in a vicious cycle he did not quite understand. This was not home, and yet it felt as if it could be. His sight was gone, and he kept hoping that Leyla was right and it would soon return, but so far he had been disappointed in that respect.

  At night he and Leyla shared a bed of blankets—blankets taken from Trinity’s supplies—on a rough floor. The blankets were laid out in the part of the hut that was built into the hill, where the occasional rains that came at night could not touch them. The accommodations were much more common and rough than a lady of her station was accustomed to, and yet Leyla seemed to sleep well enough. He did not. It wasn’t just the pain that kept him awake. When he slept, he was plagued with dreams he should not have. Even in his waking hours, his mind went to places it should not go.

  Savyn heard Leyla approaching long before she placed her soft hand on his back. “I have been thinking,” she said softly. “If someone sent Trinity to kill me, as he said, then I am not safe. I can’t return to Childers. Someone might be waiting for me there.”

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

  “I’m not.” Her hand felt so comfortable against his back, so right and comforting. “That place was never home for me. Well, I won’t say never, but rarely. I was only occasionally happy there.”

  “Yours was not a marriage of love,” he said, somehow knowing the words were true.

  “No, it was not,” she said flatly. “I was sold t
o the highest bidder, bargained for as one might bargain for a fine horse.”

  The wrongness of it cut to Savyn’s heart. “I did not know.”

  “No one did, until now.”

  His own mother had not been perfect, God rest her soul, but she would never have allowed such an offense. “Surely your family objected to such an arrangement. Your mother and father, were they living when this injustice occurred? ”

  “Who do you think did the selling?” Leyla asked sharply. Then her hand rubbed against his spine, her fingers tracing and dancing there. “I’m sorry. I did not mean to lose my temper and get into a subject best left to lie. How did we get to this conversation? Oh, yes, I do not want to return to Childers.” Again her hand settled against the small of his back, where it remained still and wonderfully soft. “I could change my name and settle elsewhere, anywhere. No one there would ever have to know of my gift, and I could make my way . . . somehow.”

  “You could marry again,” Savyn said bitterly. “You could choose your own rich man this time, and . . .”

  “No,” she said sharply, dropping her hand. “I won’t. I’ll beg, if I have to. To marry for comfort would be no better than to sell myself all over again. I am a decent cook, you know, and I’m handy with a thread and needle, and I would make a very decent governess.”

  Leyla would be wonderful with children, a thought which made Savyn wonder why she’d never had any of her own. She was a witch, after all. Perhaps she had made use of a potion to keep from catching the child of a man who had purchased her. He had heard of such concoctions, though they were not commonly used.

  “In any case, I don’t know where to go just yet,” she said, her voice calmer. “A small village, perhaps. Someplace where I can . . . can . . .”

  “Hide,” Savyn supplied sharply.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “A place where I can hide.”

  She made the prospect sound lovely, not at all frightening. He would love to go with her, to hide from the world in her company, but what good would a blind man do Leyla in her new life? Then again, how could he find his way home? Search as he might, he could not find many of his own happy memories from home. There were confusing snippets of something he could not quite grasp, as if his happiness there had been elusive. Secret. Clandestine.

  Again an image of Leyla, naked and smiling with her mass of dark hair curling behind her, came to his mind. Just as quickly, it was gone.

  “For now we will stay here,” she said. “You need time to heal, and I need time to decide what comes next for me, where I might go. The hut is not the best of lodgings in Columbyana, but I have cleaned it thoroughly, and until winter arrives, it will offer sufficient shelter. I believe I have scared away the rodents that used to live here.” There was a hint of humor in her voice. “We know there’s a village not far away. As soon as you’re better, I’ll take some of Trinity’s coin there and buy supplies. There was quite a lot of coin in his saddlebags,” she added, sounding pleased.

  “What if I don’t heal?” Savyn asked. He closed his eyes and drank in the warmth of the sun, if not the light.

  “You will.” Leyla sounded determined. She was confident, even if he was not.

  Savyn turned to face her. She was so near, it was as if he could feel her skin almost touching his. Almost. With one hand he found her face without fumbling, as if he knew exactly how and where to reach. He cupped her cheek in that hand and lowered his head to kiss her.

  He had no right, but he wanted the kiss more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. Her mouth met his softly and willingly, and oh, it was like coming home. It was like claiming the warmth and love of the home neither of them possessed, with a touch of their lips. They touched nowhere else, but she did not pull away, she did not move back. Not even when their tongues danced so well, as if they searched for one another after a long time apart.

  She should be surprised and shocked by his boldness, but did not seem to be anything more than welcoming.

  He ended the kiss and threaded his fingers through her hair. “Leyla, why do I feel so certain we have kissed before? ”

  BELA held her breath. It seemed that her heart stopped, and then restarted with a vengeance. The earth shook, the walls crumbled, and the image of her and Merin and Kitty fell to dust, revealing an opening which had long been closed.

  Merin wasted no time scurrying forward, as the passage behind them closed in. The mountain shifted, and rock cracked and fell. Thanks to Kitty they were not lost in darkness, and it soon seemed that the way before them opened wider and longer as if by magic. Behind them, the cave continued to fall in. Bela felt the dust and pebbles at her feet, and she did not dare to look back.

  They were well trapped, unless there was another way out.

  The farther they scurried into the mountain, the harder Bela’s heart pounded. How would they escape this? And what if they didn’t? What if there was no way out? Had she just found love only to lose it? Would she and Merin be buried under a mountain of rock?

  Eventually the rumbling stopped, and pebbles and dust stopped raining down upon them. The passageway ahead grew wider and higher. And sturdier, thank the heavens. Soon they were both standing tall, walking toward the center of the mountain, since there was no walking back.

  It took several minutes for Bela to realize that Kitty no longer glowed. No, the light that illuminated their way came from the walls around them, walls which glistened with streaks of crystal like that from which Kitty’s grip was made.

  Merin took her hand, and she clasped it tight. There was a brighter light at the end of the tunnel, as if daylight awaited them there. No, not daylight. The glow was more like moonlight: softer than the sun, more blue and crisp than yellow and warming. There was no warmth in this glow. Soon Bela heard the rush of what sounded like water. Flowing, strong, abundant water.

  “An underground river,” Merin said, relief in his voice. “That’s good news; the water must leave here somehow.”

  “I would imagine so.”

  “We’re safe, for now,” he said with confidence, “and we will find a way out, I promise you.”

  “Merin,” Bela said, not yet entirely accustomed to calling him Tearlach, given name or not, truly married or not, “if I must be trapped inside a mountain with anyone, I’m glad it’s you.”

  He squeezed her hand but kept his gaze straight ahead, focused on the glow that pulled them forward.

  “Well, Kitty,” Bela whispered, “What do you have to say for yourself now?”

  Home.

  They stepped from the stone corridor into a cavern aglow with the stone which had lined the walls on their pathway to this place. Even the river which ran through the cavern in a twisting S-shape glimmered, thanks to the crystals beneath the surface. The grotto was vast, and it sparkled as if it were the mountain’s personal jewel. The ceiling was high above, much higher than she’d thought possible, and larger crystals grew there, seeming to drip from the rock that made up the walls, the floor, and the ceiling.

  “It’s beautiful,” Bela whispered.

  “Yes,” Merin agreed absently, and then he walked toward the nearest section of wall to his left, where more carvings drew the eye.

  Bela held her breath. The figures which had been carved into the cavern walls looked ancient—worn and faded and even chipped away here and there—and judging by the number of them in this chamber, they had taken many years to complete. The crude depictions wrapped around the cavern, filling the walls.

  Like the carving they had seen before the cave-in, the first image depicted her and Merin, side by side and connected by a string that spanned waist to waist. Kitty hovered above their heads. The images that followed had Bela holding her breath, much as she had when the mountain had rumbled.

  The carvings primitively depicted the two of them on their knees surrounded by plants, perhaps weeding. There was more. Much more. They were sleeping side by side in a ridiculously exaggerated sagging bed. Kissing. Fighting . . . climbing
a mountain. This mountain. There was a scene depicting a fight with three men, men who were obviously unimportant because they were little more than stick figures, and then one of Bela going over the side of the mountain and hanging by a thread, saved only by Merin’s strength and her own determination.

  Then there was a crude depiction of what had happened last night and this morning . . .

  Merin did not speak for a while, as he studied the images. His face grew stonier and stonier. His lips thinned. “Bela, tell me you didn’t see these carvings when you were here before.”

  “I did not!”

  He looked at her with disbelieving eyes. “How is this possible? ”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “How is Kitty possible? How is any magic possible?”

  Merin knew of enchantment. He had fought demons in years past, with the power of good magic on his side.

  Bela’s eyes lingered on the depiction of this morning’s encounter—a crude depiction of her astride him. She almost recoiled. Her breasts were not that large, and they did not sag! Merin’s softly curling hair did not stick out in all directions, either, and neither of them had legs quite so long in proportion to their bodies. His penis was more than large enough, but it was not that large. A few things were exaggerated, and that was as annoying as the impossible accuracy of the carvings.

  “It seemed like an impulsive choice,” she whispered. “To wake and climb upon you, to make love while the sun rose. And yet here . . . It looks as if neither of us had any choice when it comes to what brought us here.” A crushing sadness fell upon her. Did this mean her love for Merin wasn’t real? That his love for her was somehow fabricated?

  “Well, we do have a choice when it comes to where we go and what we do now,” Merin said, his voice as hard as the stone which surrounded them.