22 Nights

by WINSTEAD JONES, LINDA

  It was late in the evening when they arrived at the far edge of the village. Bela tensed, and so did Merin, as they walked toward her family home, where they would sever the rope together, making it clear they intended to remain married—unless she changed her mind before they got that far.

  The small farmhouse they walked past was too quiet. No one was about. No smoke rose from the chimney, at a time of day when the farmer’s wife should be cooking supper for her family. A gust of wind made the tall grasses in their path dance, and a chill walked up Merin’s spine. In the distance the village sat as it always had, but it, too, was more still than it should be.

  “Something is wrong,” Bela said softly, mirroring his thoughts.

  Merin agreed with a nod of his head. There was an air of tension even here, a good distance from the village, and he smelled battle—he smelled smoke and blood.

  They ran again, trotting at an increasingly frantic pace. When they reached the far end of the muddy main thoroughfare that ran through the Turi village straight as an arrow, the scene before them said it all. Wounded men sat around the village square, being tended by the women. Five men not of this village—also wounded—were bound together and placed off to the side. No one tended to their injuries. One of the prisoners was the red-headed Nobel, who bled from a nasty wound to his left arm as well as from his slashed thigh. A blazing fire lit the center of town.

  “The bastard attacked early,” Bela said angrily, as they began to run again. “I should’ve known we could not trust him!”

  “Why would he attack early?” Merin asked. “For all he knew, he was going to get what he wanted.”

  “Perhaps he did not trust your word and wished to take us by surprise,” Bela suggested.

  “Possible.”

  Heads turned as Bela and Merin walked toward the center of the square, where Turi soldiers, wounded and unwounded, had gathered. Most of their faces were drawn, the men exhausted by battle. Merin could see that Bela was searching anxiously for her father and her brothers.

  It was Tyman who saw them, Tyman who raced away from the gathering to meet them. He was not wounded, not that Merin could see, but he was battle-weary. His eyes said too much.

  “Where have you two been?” Bela’s more difficult brother asked in a too-loud voice. “Blast you both, we could’ve used your swords when Nobel attacked. We expected you to be here.”

  “We were delayed,” Bela said, her eyes studying the wounded men, men she knew. Merin knew that look; she was not only searching for who was wounded but to also see who was missing. “It was unavoidable. Besides, how were we to know he would attack early?”

  Tyman glared at his sister with dark, accusing eyes. “Good God, you cannot even count the days.” He drew his blood-encrusted sword and swung it high, then quickly and precisely brought it down onto the rope which bound Merin and Bela. The sharp blade easily sliced through the frayed fabric.

  “No!” Bela protested, but it was too late. The braid swung free.

  “Never fear, little sister, your sad little marriage is undone,” Tyman said harshly.

  “It is not!” Bela shouted. “We did not lose count of the days!”

  “Your marriage was undone yesterday, as scheduled,” her brother said. He glanced at Merin with rage in his eyes. This was a rage that had nothing to do with his sister, and had everything to do with an obviously difficult battle—a battle the Turis had won, but not easily. “Congratulations, General, you are a free man.”

  Merin knew he had not miscounted the time that had passed since leaving this village in search of knowledge about Kitty. The marriage would not be undone for another three and a half days.

  And then he realized with a sick twist in his stomach what had happened. The nap they had taken in the cavern, the short period of sleep they had claimed in order to recover their strength after walking through the water and listening to the insistent crystal voices . . . it had not been a short nap at all. They had passed days on that cold rock bed.

  THOUGH she and Merin were no longer bound together, they moved as if they were. It was habit, Bela supposed, and she was glad enough of it. She was not ready to be far from the man she had come to love so much.

  Once Tyman had rushed back to the others—after assuring Bela that Clyn and their father were also unwounded—Merin took her arm and led her away from the crowd. “When we slept in the cavern, did you dream?” he asked sharply.

  Bela’s cheeks grew warm as she remembered. “Yes. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “We did not miscount the days, you know we did not.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “It was a trick of that blasted mountain. How could they—they, it, whatever the magic there might be,” she sputtered, “make time disappear?”

  “Time did not disappear,” Merin said with certainty. “We slept through those days. Well, it was a sort of sleep, if I’m correct, a sleep colored by rainbows and lullabies that came from the walls around us.” He squirmed a little. “I’m almost positive the dreams we had were not actual dreams at all. Somehow, they were real. Enchanted, but very real.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “How can you be sure?”

  “Shall we compare those dreams?” he asked.

  She remembered them vividly, which was unusual after all the time that had passed. Could he be right? “There was one in the water,” she said. “There was a gentle whirl-pool.”

  “Yes, and the rainbows were everywhere, and we . . . we flew.”

  Bela swallowed hard. That was enough to tell her that what they’d experienced had not been dreams, yet still she continued. “A time or two it rained on us, a soft rain that came from the cavern itself.”

  Merin took her chin in his hand. “We cannot be sure, but I suspect the crystals or the mountain or the water or whatever it is in that place that lives kept us there until it was sure the child it desires had taken hold within you.”

  So, it was done, at least in part. Kitty’s warrior was growing inside her at that very moment. Probably. “We can’t be certain.”

  “No, we can’t.” Merin glanced at the enemy prisoners. “I have a few questions for your most recent suitor,” he said, abruptly changing the subject.

  “So do I,” Bela said.

  They made their way to Nobel, who was being guarded by four armed and angry Turi warriors. When his eyes fell on her and the severed braid that swung from her waist, he grimaced. “I should’ve known you would not be here as you promised,” he said. “You’re no more reliable than any other woman.”

  Bela wanted nothing more than to kick the man who had caused all this trouble, but she did not wish to get that close to him. She satisfied herself with standing back and over him. “Do you know how the Turis dispose of invaders? Of course you do. You were once Turi yourself. Perhaps you have even seen the ceremony. I saw one, long ago, and though I am not a squeamish person, I could not stomach the sight for very long.” She leaned slightly closer. “The screams, however . . . I could not escape the bloodcurdling screams that continued throughout the night.”

  Nobel paled, as he should.

  “Where is your precious Kitty?” he asked.

  Nobel was faced with a horrific and slow death, and he was still concerned with the magical sword he lusted after? “She’s gone.”

  “That can’t be,” Nobel whispered. “I was assured . . .” Abruptly he stopped speaking, pursing his mouth tightly closed.

  Bela took a step closer. “You were assured what?” she asked, beyond curious. What had precipitated Nobel’s renewed interest in her and the magical sword? What had sent him so foolishly here?

  “I cannot say,” he whispered.

  She saw the terror in his eyes.

  “I cannot offer you freedom,” Bela said softly, hoping the nearby guards would not hear, “but I can deliver to you a quick death rather than the slow and painful one which has been planned for you.”

  “Let me go,” Nobel whispered.

  Bela shook
her head. “I cannot do that. All I can do is kill you quickly.” If he had ever seen the ceremony to dispose of attackers, he would agree to anything she asked.

  After taking a few deep breaths, Nobel nodded. “Promise me.”

  Bela nodded. “I give my word.”

  Merin remained beside her and silent, though he had said he had questions of his own. Perhaps their questions were the same. His sword was ready to defend her, if necessary. Instead of being annoyed that he was so obviously protecting her, she felt oddly serene and safe.

  Nobel glanced up from his seated position on the ground. With the wound to his leg he was likely not able to stand, even if he wished to. The man to his left was already dead. The other three were more seriously wounded.

  “In the wintertime I found a child, a little girl, wandering in the mountains near my mines.” His eyes flickered. “I felt sorry for her, at first. It was cold, and we had had a wicked snowstorm. She was a little thing, so frail-looking and pretty. I thought she was a miner’s child who’d gotten lost, but then she told me she lived in the mountains. Alone.” His brow furrowed. “She can do things, Bela,” he whispered. “And sometimes her eyes turn from innocent blue to midnight, evil black. Sometimes her hair looks like fire—living, flickering fire—and when she looks at me in a certain way, I feel like she’s tearing me apart on the inside. But other times she’s so sweet, so innocent, and I know in my soul that it’s my purpose to protect her.”

  Before he had finished, Bela knew what had brought Nobel to this point. She had heard rumors of demon-children, but until now had dismissed them as fable. Myth. The stuff of bedtime stories.

  “Uryen showed me where to find gems, gems that made me rich beyond my wildest dreams.” His eyes glinted. “Then she guided me to men—or else she brought them to me—who were hungry for a share of those gems. These men would do anything if I offered them enough wealth. I quickly became rich and I had my own army. Uryen became a daughter to me. She loved me like the father she never knew, I know she did.”

  Nobel licked his dry, cracked lips. “Then a few weeks ago she told me about the marriage. She was frantic, so scared, as she told me about the rope that bound you and the importance of making sure you two separated and remained separate.” He swallowed hard; his fingers trembled. “Keeping you apart would stop you and the general from making a child, she said. “I was to make you mine, to make Kitty mine as well, and then I would give the sword to her so she could . . . destroy it. Your child will kill her, she said.” He sounded almost desperate. “My little Uryen wants to destroy the sword and you to protect herself, but she can’t do it alone. She’s too small, and does not yet have her full powers. She needs me.”

  One of Bela’s first responses was relief. There was no traitor in the village. Jocylen had not betrayed her, not even unknowingly. All Nobel’s information had come from a demon-child. She’d much rather face a demon than a traitorous friend.

  “What did this Uryen promise you for your service?” Merin asked. “Surely you did not do all this without a promised reward.”

  Nobel smiled. “Uryen promised me immortality and riches beyond my imagination. Gems would grow at my feet, and I would never grow old. She will be my daughter now and she will be my wife when the time comes, when she’s grown and her powers are strong. I could have everything. Anything I want, I have only to ask. All I had to do was separate you two and take the sword.” He looked momentarily puzzled. “It didn’t seem too arduous a task. She did not want a war with the Turis. She said it was a war she could not yet win. But if I married Bela and took her and Kitty away . . .”

  “And yet you did battle with the Turis anyway,” Bela said sharply.

  Nobel looked at her accusingly. “You were not here, as you promised!” he said accusingly. “What was I to do? ”

  “Where is this Uryen?” Merin asked.

  Nobel laughed and paled. “Gone, I suspect, deep in the mountains, waiting for another man to find and protect her. She will know that I’ve lost this battle, she will know that I’ve failed.” He shook his head. “She knows everything—almost everything. One day she will know all, but now she sees only what is closest to her. Yes, she will know I have failed her. She hates me now, I suppose. It’s better that I die here than to return to her defeated.”

  He looked up at Bela. “That is all. Now, kill me as you said you would.” His eyes filled with tears. Perhaps he, too, had once heard the screams of tortured invaders. “Please.”

  Was he afraid of the Turi torture or Uryen’s wrath?

  Before Bela could act, Merin lunged forward and his sword pierced Nobel’s heart. Nobel looked relieved, almost peaceful, before Merin withdrew his sword and the prisoner slumped to the ground, dead.

  The attacker’s death, too quick and painless, drew attention. Soon they were surrounded by angry Turi warriors, including her father and her brothers.

  “What have you done?” Clyn shouted.

  “I’ve killed the man who dared to attempt to take my wife,” Merin said calmly. “Is that not my right?”

  “She’s not your wife any longer,” Tyman shouted.

  Merin glanced at her. “I plan to remedy that as soon as possible, if she will have me.”

  Bela held her breath. Did he still want her? Away from the influence of the crystals, her own feelings had not changed. She loved him. She would go anywhere with Merin. She would follow him to Arthes or to find his brother, or to the farthest reaches of the earth, where their daughter would be safe.

  Her father stepped forward. “You have just gone through a difficult dissolution ceremony, and yet now you wish to claim her?”

  “Yes,” Merin said calmly. “But this is not the place to have the discussion.” His eyes met hers. “I won’t talk of the future while I hold a bloody sword in my hands and a dead man lies at my feet. It’s hardly proper.”

  Bela’s father nodded to Clyn, who collected Bela with strong, insistent hands and led her away. She was not ready to leave, and she made her reluctance known. Not that it made any difference to Clyn. He lifted her from her feet with one strong arm and carried her toward home.

  When she realized that fighting her elder brother was useless, she calmed down and said, “Put me down. This is completely undignified.”

  Clyn asked, as he did not put her down, “Since when have you cared about dignity?”

  “Just do it.”

  He stopped walking. “You won’t run?”

  “No.”

  “Swear.”

  Bela sighed. “I give you my word.”

  Clyn placed her on her feet. “Good. I’m too tired to carry you, anyway. My sword arm is aching.”

  Bela did not look back as they headed toward home. “Did we lose many in the fight?”

  “Two dead, many wounded but none seriously.” He nodded in pride, and then gave her the names of the dead: a farmer and a young man who worked on a ranch near the village. “We were ready for him this time.”

  “I wish I had been here.”

  Clyn looked down at her. “Why weren’t you?”

  “It’s complicated. I’d just as soon tell the tale to all of you at once.” She still wasn’t sure how much to tell, and she wanted Merin with her when she faced her family.

  “That’s good enough, I suppose,” Clyn said. “So, General Merin intends to court you?”

  “God above, I hope not,” Bela muttered.

  “What?” Clyn asked sharply. “I thought . . .”

  “I just want to be married.” She sighed. “Courtship is silly. In this case it’s unnecessary.” She thought of all that Jocelyn and Rab had gone through in the days before their wedding. “Why is my life always so complicated?”

  At that, Clyn laughed out loud, and Bela was very glad to see her home waiting before her.

  MERIN wasn’t sure how much he should tell Bela’s family about what had happened in the cavern. What most concerned them was the lost time, and he could not very well tell them how they’d passe
d those days. When the time came, Merin offered his suggestion that the crystals had somehow lulled them into an extraordinarily long sleep. They had seen what Kitty could do, and no one suggested such an idea was ludicrous.

  Speaking was difficult with Bela present. She wore a dress, of all things, and had a circlet of gold in her hair. The green dress and the circlet were both plain but looked incredibly elegant on her. Everything about her was perfection, from the gentle wave of her hair to the toes that peeked through her sandals. Good heavens, he was smitten with her, and her very presence was distracting. That was so unlike him. Nothing distracted him.

  He and Bela suggested that the mountain where Kitty had been abandoned remain truly forbidden to the Turis, and the chieftain heartily agreed. It wasn’t as if the people were drawn to that part of the mountain range in any case. It was too barren—too lonely and uninviting.

  And now they knew why. The crystals kept other life away from their home. Knowing their power, realizing now what they could do, it was surely a gift to the Turis and others who might travel this way that they were not welcome there.

  When explanations were done, Merin quickly turned to the business at hand. “When can Bela and I be married?”

  The chieftain sighed and shook his head. “The marriage was just undone. Can’t you two make up your minds?”

  “We had planned to cut the bonds here, together,” Bela said, “before the union was undone, but the lost days ruined that plan.” She locked eyes with Merin. “I have made up my mind, Papa. I know what I want.”

  He shook his head and gave in to a smile. “You always do.”

  “Properly done, the courtship should last at least fourteen days . . .” Bela’s mother began.

  “No,” Merin said briskly, “that is unacceptable.”

  “Three days is the very least amount of time . . .”

  “Last time we shared a few words, a kiss, and a clumsy dance,” Merin interrupted impatiently. “Will that not suffice again? Now?”

  “Now?” Bela’s mother asked shrilly.