Blazing Earth

by TERRI BRISBIN

  She left and walked aimlessly up the path of the village. Her mind could not figure out what had happened. Well, she knew what had happened—Linne had not died when she should have. But the how and why of it were the true mystery.

  Thea thought on what had happened and realized that, for the first time after a birth or healing, she had not grown overheated. Usually by now, she was seeking out a cool place or the cold water to temper the increasing heat within her. Yet, just now, it was Linne who spoke of the heat.

  What had happened to change this pattern?

  Her talent for healing had always been strong. Though her mother taught her the way of it, Thea had gone on and learned how to do much, much more. Some treatments and concoctions just seemed the right thing to do or make, while others were learned through observation and trial. Her skills at delivering even the most difficult births and keeping both mother and child alive had put her much in demand.

  And Jasper had hated her for it.

  He’d hated that she gained attention for being something other than his wife. He’d hated that she’d answered every call, no matter the hour of day or night, refusing no one in need. He’d grown to hate her. She shivered then as memories of his hatred rose from the place within where she tried to keep them.

  The only good thing was that their marriage had only lasted for three years. Longer than that and Thea doubted not that she would be the one buried in the graveyard next to the church instead of Jasper.

  Shaking off the past, she walked back toward her cottage, needing to change her gown and wash before the day was full upon her. When someone called out her name in greeting and she glanced up to reply, she saw Tolan on his way up to the keep. He walked with purpose, for he was an important man to Lord Geoffrey.

  Important enough to accompany the nobleman on this recent journey. Indispensable to the success of the lord’s lands. Too important for a woman like her to marry. If she had not had her own reasons to avoid marriage already, then Tolan’s status and importance gave her additional ones.

  Thea made quick work of changing out of the bloodied gown, washing the worst out of it and dressing in a clean one. With her basket and satchel filled, she felt ready to follow through on her plan, the one she’d set for herself when Jasper died.

  She would use her skills and talents for the benefit of those living here and never expect more than the joy that it gave her. When she had first married, she expected to have children, many of them, but Jasper’s beatings had taken away her ability to have them. So she would find joy in bringing new life into the world for others.

  And Thea would never marry again. She would never give a man that kind of control and power over her very life and breath. If that meant giving Tolan up when he sought a wife, then she would have to find the strength to do that. For no man who needed sons as he did would marry a woman who could not bear them.

  She did as was her custom when bothered or worried—she threw herself into her tasks for the rest of the day. Thea visited the ill and injured in the village most of the morn and then spent several hours preparing the small patch of ground she used to grow herbs. Tired and sore from her efforts, she returned to her cottage to end the day with a simple meal.

  Though Tolan’s absence that night did not surprise her, it did bother her more than she had expected. After all, they were nothing more than friends who shared a bed when it was convenient. She should have no more expectations than that. Thea suspected that something had changed between them and wondered if they would ever go back to the relationship they’d had when this day began.

  When he did not knock on her door the next night or the one after, Thea had to face the truth. And if she cried herself to sleep, at least no one heard her.

  CHAPTER 6

  Southern coast of England

  William de Brus had waited as their ships were unloaded and watched as their supplies and people reached the shore. It had taken most of that day to accomplish, but now, before nightfall, they were miles inland and camped in a heavily wooded area next to a river. It would shield them from prying eyes and give them a chance to organize themselves.

  A large force of fighting men would gain notice much too quickly and be confronted by the local lord and possibly the king’s men. So they’d decided to break up into two smaller groups and hide themselves in the guise of pilgrims.

  “Do you think we will go unnoticed?” Roger de Bardem, William’s closest friend and commander of the men who fought with them, asked. They stood at the edge of the encampment waiting for the sentries to report. Anxious to return to his wife Brienne’s side, William wished things settled for the night.

  “We have all been raised as faithful Catholics, Roger,” William offered. “’Tis less a falsehood than many others we have told.”

  “Except for them,” Roger said, nodding at the group of priests, men and women, who even now chanted some prayer to their gods for delivering the group safely to the southern shores of England.

  “Father Ander assures me he can accomplish this. Corann agrees. So we will travel north as pilgrims of the Holy Church, giving thanks for blessings received.”

  “And the king will not hear of us?” Roger asked, crossing his arms over his chest and meeting William’s gaze now.

  “If he does and sends someone to investigate, I will use the good name of my father’s family to ease our way. The de Bruses own properties, hold titles, and owe homage here in England as well as France and Scotland.” William smiled.

  Though his true father was King Alexander III of Scotland, William’s bastardy was an open secret. But respect for the man who’d married his mother in deference to the king’s wishes would help them more here.

  “But I suspect that Edward is too busy seeing to important matters of kingdom and country to worry over some pilgrims journeying into his lands.”

  Chaos swirled around them in the world and loomed even larger a threat because of the ancient goddess’s attempts to escape her otherworldly prison. A king, his own father, had fallen and more, William suspected, would follow. Caught at a disadvantage because of their lack of knowledge, the Warriors of Destiny, descendants of the ancient Celtic gods, were trying to find their way in this newly risen war between good and evil.

  Only the priests had continued strong in their faith and their ways and had searched for those of the bloodlines to guide them in this conflict that had the potential to see evil triumph and humanity be destroyed.

  The first two battles had been won but at a terrible cost. Now the third one was ahead of them. They must reach the area where the prophecy foretold the next circle of stones and the two bloodlines who guarded it. William prayed to whoever would listen that those guardians would have more knowledge than he and Brienne and Soren and Ran had had coming into this.

  “Here they come, Will,” Roger warned.

  Father Ander and Corann were inseparable now, always with their heads together discussing matters of faith and the challenges they faced. For one raised in the orthodoxy of the Catholic priesthood, Ander had taken his newfound role in this endeavor with more acceptance and enthusiasm than anyone would have guessed. And Corann, though raised in the faith of the Old Ones, faced his own challenges since being designated as the leader of those priests on the death of their mentor, Marcus, just over a fortnight ago.

  “Father. Corann. How goes it?” William asked.

  Ander held out a parchment to Will and he examined it. A list of abbeys and churches and a rudimentary map of the journey ahead of them. It ended in Amesbury.

  “You think the circle we seek is in Amesbury, then?” he asked, showing the map to Roger.

  “Nay, not Amesbury itself, but the whole area is strewn with ancient stones and curious mounds. There is an abbey in Amesbury and I will seek out more there,” Ander advised and he swept his hand across a large blank area of the map.

  “So much we do
not know,” Roger whispered.

  “Ah, but we know more than we did before,” Corann said. “Yet we are not as arrogant as the others. And so far the gods have favored our efforts.”

  “We will seek information on the morrow at the priory, William. The church here is now being called Christ’s Church, for it is said that He disguised Himself as a simple carpenter to fix a problem with a wooden beam in the roof. Surely, it is an auspicious place to begin our quest on behalf of good?”

  Before William could remark on the priest’s comments, his name was called.

  “William?”

  He turned to the soft voice he knew and loved. Brienne walked to them, shimmering with the aura of her power, and gifted him with the smile he craved as much as he craved her. “Supper is ready. Come, friends. We must all seek our rest this night in preparation for our journey.”

  “Rest, my arse,” Roger said under his breath but loud enough for the other men to hear.

  William laughed, but since Brienne’s voice called to the warblood within him, it sounded like a roar. His vision changed, too, and everything he saw now was tinged in red. Knowing it was not needed, the warblood sank back into William’s blood and waited . . . always waited.

  “On the morrow, I will visit the priory here to establish our groups as pilgrims and to see what I can learn of the lands to the north,” Ander said, looking to Corann and William for their agreement.

  “Ran is taking the river north to explore the lands to which we journey,” Corann said. “No doubt Soren will follow in the skies.”

  No doubt. Soren carried the bloodline of the god of sky and storms, so he could move as wind or clouds. His wife, Ran, was blessed by the goddess of water and sea and would become one with the river to travel along it. Though traveling by boat would be faster than riding and walking, the river narrowed and changed course too many times for their large ships to fit. And too many small boats would be needed for the whole of the group.

  “We will talk when you and they return,” William said, nodding at the two priests.

  Once they’d left, he and Roger discussed the guards and timing of their patrols before he took his leave of his friend. The warblood would not be held back much longer from seeking its mate, and William could feel his control growing thin.

  “Will?” Roger said quietly. When he faced his friend, Will nodded. “Is there ever a moment when it isn’t there, pushing you and changing you?”

  The profound changes in everything they had believed and learned over these last weeks were shocking, even now to him. Will was part of this plan set in place eons ago by ancient gods to protect mankind. Even knowing his part in it did not make it feel any less surprising.

  “Nay. He is always there, always ready. But there are moments when I wonder how I did not know it all my life. I suspect that all the accolades for my fighting abilities and the tourney wins were due to him.”

  “He? You speak as though it is not you.”

  Will stepped closer to his friend and tried to explain. “There are times, before he takes over, when I can still hear and think only as William. But then the warblood makes me able to see and hear and fight better. He is a better version of myself.”

  “Better?” Roger asked. “But how can that be?”

  “Stronger certainly. Clear-minded and focused.” Will shrugged. “I know not how else to explain it. I just know it to be true.”

  He had thought on it more and more and could not explain it otherwise. Brienne had said the same thing about how it felt to her when the fireblood took over. He did not know Ran and Soren well enough yet to delve into such matters, but he expected he would hear the same thing from them.

  So all he, they, could do was to accept the changes in his life, accept the call to protect humanity, and accept that his life and his future would never be in his control again.

  He nodded to his friend and stalked off to find his wife. It had been too many days since they had a moment or an hour’s privacy, and the warblood ached for her, even as he, the man, did.

  “All is well?” she asked at this approach.

  “For now, ’tis,” he said in that voice that contained both the man he was and the warblood who rose now. “On the morrow? Who knows?”

  He was their leader and needed to be strong for all those who followed his orders and plans. But here, in her presence and in her arms and within her body, he could be himself. She walked into his embrace and offered her mouth to him. Will kissed her gently, touching their tongues, and accepted the warmth that lived within her.

  “We will face the morrow as we do each day—together, my love.”

  The warblood liked the taste of her and the way her words sounded. He pushed his way into control of the human and showed himself to his mate. Growing and pushing to his true height, he touched the canvas of the tent over his head before stopping. The color of her changed, too, and the orange that surrounded her being sparkled and glimmered like the flames that lived inside her. He liked the fire. Even the pain of being burned did not stop him from seeking it, seeking her.

  Now the constant hum of words in his thoughts and in his blood changed when she was there. At every other moment, he thought of killing and conquering and death and destroying his enemies. But when she was there, it was only her.

  She was the fire who heated his blood and his soul and burned his body. She was the fire who could withstand his strength. She was only his.

  His to take. His to possess. His to keep and protect.

  His to love.

  He laughed then, and the sound of it echoed around them and escaped the confines of the tent. Love was human. It was the part of the human that remained in place when the warblood took his place in this world.

  “Come, my love,” she whispered. “Let us seek a place away from the others.”

  His blood surged then, desire for her almost overwhelming his control. But he would never harm her or allow her to come to it. The warblood took her hand and followed her deeper into the woods, to a place where none could hear them or his roar when he claimed her. She worried over that.

  But she did not worry long, for he pleasured her relentlessly through that night until she forgot about everything else. A strange feeling haunted him through their hours together and did not leave no matter how many times he sank into her soft, human body and heard her cries of passion and release.

  Unable to define it, the warblood pushed it aside and did not allow it to control him. He took her body, heart, and soul that night and offered her all he had in return.

  Only when he returned back into the human’s blood, only as William regained his place, did the warblood recognize the feeling he’d noticed.

  Loss.

  Loss of her.

  He would lose her.

  Unacceptable! he thought as he pushed through the barrier separating his mind from the human’s. He would not leave and allow her to be unprotected. He could not lose her. He would not. If he could not be present at all times, he would be watching. He would . . . watch.

  “Will?” Brienne tugged on his hand as they walked back to the camp. He stopped and turned to meet her questioning gaze. She frowned.

  “What is it? Have I forgotten something?”

  “Your eyes. They are . . . they are the warblood’s eyes, Will.”

  At first he’d thought the red tinge was caused by her nearness and the power that surged from within her. But now he realized it was his own eyes that had changed.

  And not only had the color changed, but so also had his ability to see farther away and clearer. Will glanced back at her and nodded.

  “So it is,” he said as he took her hand once more and led her back to the others. “The warblood is still here, Brienne. He’s still here.”

  Will could not explain it more, but he knew that the warblood would never be completely absent from
his conscious mind ever again. As he sought a reason, it came to him.

  The warblood was watching. Like a sentry on duty, the creature within now stood guard. And the only reason he could think of disturbed him greatly, for the warblood must think his mate was in danger.

  Over the next days, as they began to travel north, into the heart of England and farther along their destined path, the warblood never left Will completely. His gaze stared out over the lands as they crossed the miles to the place where they would once more battle the evil one and her followers.

  Ran discovered no open dangers along the path of this river, called Avon. Soren reported that nothing seemed out of place from his view above. And Father Ander mentioned that being on the hallowed ground of the church seemed to mute his and Corann’s ability to sense the others and might be a way to hide from de Gifford, who must arrive here soon.

  All important things to consider as the huge group broke into two and headed to Amesbury a day apart. But the most important thing was never far from Will’s or the warblood’s thoughts—Brienne must be kept safe.

  CHAPTER 7

  Tolan’s world was spinning out of control. Each day something else happened that he could not stop or change or divert from its course.

  The orderly progression of his life and purpose through the seasons was gone. He’d liked the predictability of how he lived, especially since he understood how the spring would wake the earth, the summer would bring it fertility, the fall would see its bounty collected, and the winter would see it seek its rest. Until it all began again.

  Now the woman he wanted to marry was opposed to such a thing. And his son was gazing with calf eyes at a young woman with alarming regularity. Worse, the man whom he served was looking for the one thing he’d sworn to keep hidden.

  As he strode along the perimeter of the field that Lord Geoffrey wanted cultivated, Tolan knew that this part of his life was the only one he knew for a certainty. He crouched down and examined the soil closely, running his fingers through it to loosen the clumps. He’d been right to promise this land would take seed in just a few weeks. As he wiggled his fingers, he could feel the first traces of life returning to the once-deadened soil.