This direct route through the swamp was the shortest course to the armies which fought against Ciro. According to Gwyneth, if they rode straight through without stopping, they’d reach a more hospitable meadowland by morning.
All they had to do was stay awake for the entire night, avoid the creatures which were determined to place themselves between the travelers and safety, and steer clear of Beatrisa.
It seemed that with every minute that passed, the snakes and crocs and unknown creatures beneath the water moved closer to the travelers. As they grew less afraid, as they grew more curious, they moved in. The soft splashes all around seemed to be nearer each time than they had the last. What was making those splashing sounds? Stars above, she did not want to know.
The faint cry that reached their ears was startling. Except for Gwyneth, they had not seen or heard another human being in the swamplands. The call for help was most definitely human and female. Lyr pulled the reins to halt his horse and listened more closely, and Rayne did the same. There was much to be afraid of in this swamp. The witch, the crocs, the snakes, whatever splashed, whatever howled.
The cry for help came again, and this time it was easy to note the direction whence it came. Lyr turned his mount, and Rayne followed.
“Should we respond to the cry?” she asked. “Perhaps it’s an animal which sounds like a human, or maybe it’s Beatrisa herself and we’re riding into a trap.”
Lyr turned to look back at her all too briefly. “The cry for help could also come from one of the swamp witch’s victims, or an innocent who wandered too far into the swamplands.” He shook his head. “I can’t ignore such a plea for help.”
Of course he could not. It was in Lyr’s nature to run toward such uncertainties, not away from them. It was one of the traits she admired about him, but at the same time she did so want to get out of this wet, dangerous swamp.
The spine-chilling howl was louder and closer when it came again. So was the call for help.
***
Liane stepped back and watched her brother’s family as they ignored her for a moment and argued about the best route to take in the morning. Those who had come looking for Liane and her sons had not let her out of their sight since she’d come to this sitting room last night. She’d been unable to rest since then, and while the others had gone to sleeping rooms down the hall for a couple hours, someone had always remained with her. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t enjoyed talking with her brother and hearing about his children and his farm, or reliving days long past with Isadora, but she wasn’t blind to the fact that they’d been keeping a very close eye on her all the while.
They were all crowded in this rented sitting room at the moment, even though the party had taken the entire floor for their visit. Kane’s wife, Sophie, and her sisters, as well as those sisters’ husbands, argued without heat or rancor.
Liane felt a trill of envy as she watched them argue as only family can do. They had been blessed with lasting love, peace, and family. Her sons were her only blessings, her only family, and she would not allow them to be sacrificed for the greater good. She had given enough. She’d promised Sebestyen, as he lay dying, that she would take their sons away from the palace in Arthes and hide them forever.
She and Sebestyen had never had the chance for the normal love Kane’s family shared. It was true that Sebestyen had not always been a good man, but that was not entirely his fault. He’d been manipulated and twisted from childhood to be who he’d become. He’d been molded into a heartless ruler who would do anything to assert his authority and take what he wanted.
No, he had not been entirely heartless. In the end his heart had won, but it hadn’t been enough. He’d died anyway.
While the others discussed which route to take in the morning, Liane, who had moments earlier grudgingly agreed to travel with them, turned quickly and threw open the door to the hallway. This was likely her only chance to escape. If she ran fast enough, if she disappeared quickly, they would not find her. She was very good at hiding, and she knew this town in a way they did not.
She’d been hiding for more than twenty-five years now, and she could make her way out of town and start over somewhere else. When it was safe, she’d find the boys and warn them. In doing so she’d be forced to tell them the truth of their heritage. How could she do that? Would they ever forgive her for lying to them all these years?
Liane ran for the stairs, with Kane shouting behind her. She didn’t look back. If she did she’d be lost, she’d give in. That could not happen. Now and always, she would do anything for her sons.
A short, squat little man stood in the middle of the stairway. She cut to the right and tried to shoo him aside. He would slow her progress if he didn’t get out of the way, and if Kane caught her, his vigilance wouldn’t fail a second time. No, they would keep a close eye on her from here on out if they caught her. They could not catch her.
“Move!” she shouted as she hurried down the stairs as quickly as her old legs would carry her. Her knees always hurt these days, but still, she moved well when she had to.
The man on the staircase did not get out of her way. He stood there, fat and grinning and sloppy, and when she reached him, intent on pushing her way past, he grabbed her arm. Liane tried to yank her arm away, but he held her fast, and then he whispered hoarsely,
“Emperor Ciro sends his regards.”
She didn’t feel the knife, not at first. It was very sharp, and slipped into her chest too easily. Once it was fully embedded, the pain hit her and began to spread. Her legs gave out, and the man dropped her to face Kane with his little knife. Foolish man, Liane thought as she stared at the ceiling. Kane would kill Ciro’s soldier, if not for murdering his sister then to keep him from reaching Sophie, his beloved wife.
The outraged shout and bloodcurdling scream that filled her ears and her head told her what had happened. The man who had killed her was himself dead.
Her knees didn’t hurt anymore, she noticed. Her body felt light, as if she were floating on water. How odd, and how strangely and unexpectedly pleasant. Sebestyen appeared before her, misty and yet at moments almost solid. So close. He looked as if he could be solid if she squinted her eyes just right. She was not surprised to see him.
“You’re still young,” she whispered as he knelt beside her.
“Tell them, love,” he whispered as he took her hand in his. She felt him, more real than the stairs at her back, more real than the life she had built in this small coast town. “Tell them where to find the boys.”
Liane shook her head. “I promised you I would protect them always, and I have, I truly have.”
“I know.” Sebestyen carried her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. It did not feel like a true kiss, but was a breeze passing over her fingers. “But now it is time to let them go, to send them to their duty.”
Liane narrowed her eyes to see Sebestyen more clearly. “Why are you here?”
“I have been waiting for you.”
“Waiting to take me to hell, I imagine.” Like him, her life had been filled with sin before leaving Arthes behind. Lust, murder, greed... hate. In the afterlife she would surely be made to pay for all her sins.
Sebestyen smiled. He had not smiled much in life, and never like this. She saw the peace in that smile, and it warmed her. “No, love. We earned our way to the Land of the Dead with our sacrifice for the children.”
“Why aren’t you there?” Resting, enjoying the peace he had earned at the end of his life. “It’s been such a long time since you left me.”
“I have been waiting. We’ll go there together now, I promise.”
The dreams, all the times she’d sensed him with her... they had been real somehow. Suddenly she felt as if her body was light as a feather and was beginning to float above the stairs.
“Tell them,” Sebestyen insisted. “Tell your brother where our children can be found.”
It was only then that Liane realized Kane was standing over her, much as
Sebestyen was. He tried to stop the bleeding by pressing his hands to the wound, and he shouted for Sophie to help him. Liane could tell by the stricken expression on her brother’s face that he realized it was too late for help.
Liane focused on Kane’s face and tried to stop the pull, the gentle tug, that threatened to lift her up and up and up. “Devlyn and Trystan,” she said. “Those are their names now. Devlyn and Trystan Arndell. They don’t know the truth, Kane. They think their father was a fisherman who was lost at sea.”
Kane squeezed her hand. He tried to be brave but she saw the tears glistening in his eyes. “Where are they, Liane? Guide us to them.”
“Trystan fights. Devlyn... Devlyn is too much like his father, I’m afraid. I’m not sure where he is.”
“They are together, now,” Sebestyen whispered. “Our sons have reunited, as is proper.” Liane experienced a rush of relief. Her boys had found one another, and that gave her comfort.
Isadora was here, too, Liane realized. Always pragmatic, practical Isadora, who did not hold back her tears but cursed them as they fell. “Which is the eldest? We must know.”
Sebestyen now looked more real than Kane and Isadora and all those who had gathered behind them, and Liane felt better than she had in years. She was young again. Energy rushed through her body, and her heart surged with love and peace. “The eldest keeps the ring,” she said. “You know the ring of which I speak, Isadora. You know.” The others faded and Sebestyen assisted her to her feet. He smiled at her, even as they stared down at the misty people who wept and mourned the old woman she had become, here in this shore town where she’d raised her children.
She looked up at her husband. “You waited for me.”
“Of course I waited,” Sebestyen said, with a touch of the arrogance which was so much a part of who he was, so much a part of the man he had been made by those who’d trained him to be emperor. “The land that awaits is not paradise without you, love, not for me.”
“I love you still,” she said as her husband led her away from the scene of her death.
He lifted her hand and kissed it again. “I love you, too. Now, let’s go home.”
***
Night had fallen, but the cries for help pulled Lyr forward, as did the light from what appeared to be a fire. Fire, here in this wet place. Fire, burning in the darkness and leading him toward a woman’s screams.
Rayne was right in suggesting that this could be a trap, and yet he could not ride by without being certain.
When the fire was close and he could see the figure of a woman tied to a barren tree trunk which rose out of the water, Lyr turned to Rayne, who followed closely and silently. “Wait here,” he instructed.
“No,” she said softly. “Whatever awaits ahead cannot be any worse than waiting here in the dark.”
He heard the whisper and splash of a creature in the water not too far away, and nodded. “If it is a trap, I will hold off the enemy while you take your horse to the bank and then into the forest.”
She did not answer, but he didn’t have time to argue with her. With a powerful mother and two sisters, he had always known that women could be stubborn beyond belief. There were times when arguing with them was a waste of breath.
Fire burned on the water in a circle around the girl who’d been lashed to the tree. There must be some sort of fuel or magic there, he imagined, since he had never seen such a sight as flame dancing on water. Firelight and moonlight illuminated the girl’s golden hair, which was loose and tangled and fell all around her like a curtain made of sunlight.
Again the captive screamed, calling for help. Her voice echoed in the deserted swamplands. Lyr approached cautiously, since it was possible this was a trap and the girl was bait. His sword was held ready, to strike at the enemy or to stop time, whichever might prove to be more prudent.
Apparently the golden-haired girl heard him. Her head snapped around as far as it would go, given her bonds. Her face was beautiful, young and smooth and frightened. “Did she send you?” she asked, her voice hoarse from screaming. “Are you here to finish me since the swamp witch’s creature has not?”
A splash drew Lyr’s attention to the creature she spoke of, a large, wide-mouthed reptile which seemed to be half-snake and half-croc. The creature swam just beyond the circle of fire. “Is the fire yours or hers?” Lyr asked as he came alongside the girl. From this vantage point, he discovered that she was unclothed. Large-breasted, firm and shapely, and completely naked.
“The fire is mine,” she said, turning her head to look at him suspiciously. “So far the flames have kept the creature away, but it is becoming accustomed to them and draws closer.”
“What creature are you that you control fire on water?”
“Some call me nymph, some call me fairy, some call me witch. In truth I am all three. I live in the forests beyond this swamp, and until now the swamp witch has left me alone.”
His eyes reached beyond the circle to search for the witch, who had apparently used this forest nymph as bait to draw him and Rayne in.
“Allow the fire to dwindle and I will release you.”
The nymph shook her head fiercely. “First you must destroy the creature. The witch Beatrisa has directed it to kill me, and as soon as the fire dies, it will strike. I suspect the creature will move more quickly than you.”
“Lyr?” Rayne’s voice called to him, close and concerned and frightened.
He glanced back at her to find that she had not approached as he had. Apparently the swamp itself was not as frightening as the unnatural creature which stayed close to the bound nymph. “Move your horse to the bank,” he ordered, and this time Rayne did not argue with him.
Lyr’s horse refused to move any closer to the creature, so he was forced to dismount and send the animal with Rayne to the relative safety of the marshy far bank. The shallow water did not come above his boots, but was murky and odorous and just deep enough for the odd creature who popped up to show his teeth and then disappeared beneath the water again.
The water swirled. There were other things beneath the surface, and he could not tell exactly where the reptile had hidden itself. It could be inches away, for all he knew.
The bound nymph said the creature had been directed to her, so he moved toward her protective circle of fire. Sure enough, a furrow in the water indicated the movement of something larger than was normal moving toward the fire, then coming up out of the water inches from the flame. He swung his sword toward the slimy creature, but it dipped below the water once more, moving more swiftly than he’d thought possible.
“When the monster shows itself again, stop it,” Rayne instructed, her voice near frantic and yet still strong as she yelled at him.
How long could it stay beneath the water? How far could it travel? Could it move as well on land as it did beneath the water? Would it turn on him, or worse, would it race to shore and attack Rayne’s mount? He could imagine too well Rayne being thrown off her mare and into the dark, unsafe water.
“You dreamed you could part the water with your breath,” he shouted.
The nymph’s head snapped around, and for the first time she gave Rayne her attention.
“It was just a dream,” Rayne argued.
“Try,” he said. “Look for an indication of movement beneath the water, and try. We have nothing to lose, and possibly everything to gain.” Her powers were very new, and she did not know yet what she could and could not do. The nymph had control of fire, it was very possible that Rayne could move aside the waters which concealed the reptile.
Lyr saw, directly before the flame, a ripple on the water which was unlike any he had seen before. The creature or Rayne? He could not be sure, but he gave that small area his attention and held his sword ready, gripping it in both hands.
When the water moved again, he knew it was Rayne and not the reptile which caused the movement. A furrow appeared, as if a large finger ran across the water, parting it. The furrow grew deeper and longer, and
as he heard Rayne expel a long, powerful breath, the swamp water split and rose up and peeled away from the muddy bottom, where a long and dangerous creature waited.
The thing turned its beady eyes to Lyr and leapt toward him, sensing the danger of the blade. Its coiled tail whipped into the air and its mouth opened wide. Such teeth...
Lyr swung his blade fast and hard, and cut the unnatural reptile in half. The two parts of the once dangerous body fell into the water, which quickly returned to its normal state.
As he walked toward the nymph, he glanced toward Rayne on the shore. There was little light, and still he could see that she was stunned and pale. No, she did not yet know what she could do. Her education would take years.
The fire did not die entirely, but a doorway of sorts opened and Lyr walked through. He sheathed his sword and drew a short knife with which to free the naked nymph.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly as he began to cut at her bonds. “What an impressive display of swordsmanship and magic. The two of you work together quite well.” Her smile was wide and suggestive, and her eyes met his. They were blue, he could tell even in the odd light.
It was impossible to free her without touching her bare body, and as she was without the protection of footwear, he decided it would be best if he carried her to the shore. She did not hesitate to wrap her arms around his neck and even to lay her head on his shoulder. His progress to the shore was slow but steady.
“I owe you my thanks,” the nymph whispered. “Do you know how a nymph shows gratitude to a champion? You have never known such pleasures as I can show you.”
She was beautiful, bare, and seductive, but Lyr found he was not as tempted as he might’ve been even days ago. “What is your name?”
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