by Amanda Ashley, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Maggie Shayne, Ronda Thompson
"I will do my best to protect ye," he said. "We leave at first light."
She nodded, her smile brighter than the sun at midday.
He left the room, pausing just outside the door to watch her.
Thinking herself alone, she clasped her hands to her breasts and lifted her face upward in an attitude of prayer.
He did not have to divine her thoughts to know what it was she prayed for.
They left early the following morning.
Excitement rippled through Channa Leigh as Darkfest lifted her onto the back of a horse. Leaning forward, she patted the animal on the neck, loving the silky feel of the horse's coat.
"Have ye ridden before?" Darkfest asked, adjusting her stirrups.
"Never anything so large."
"Well, dinna worry. Clover is a fine beastie, well trained. She will carry ye safely."
He gazed up at Channa Leigh. She was prettier than a fresh spring morn. Sitting there, with her skirts spread over the mare's rump, a midnight-blue fur-lined cloak around her shoulders, she looked like a fairy queen going calling.
Gathering up the reins to his own great stallion, he swung into the saddle and settled his own cloak about his shoulders. He clucked to the stallion, and the horse moved forward with a shake of his great shaggy head. The mare moved up beside the stallion. A pretty little gray pack mule followed the horses, the bell around her neck tinkling softly.
The path that led down from the castle was a long and winding one, the narrow road lined by windblown trees and squat shrubs.
He watched Channa Leigh carefully. She held the reins lightly in one hand, the other hand resting on the pommel. She seemed at ease in the saddle, her body swaying with the movement of the mare. The early-morning sun danced in Channa Leigh's hair, making it glisten like spun gold. His gaze moved over her face and form, delighting in the line of her profile, the sweet curve of her breast.
He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle as his body responded to his lustful thoughts. With an oath he looked away. This journey was a mistake, he mused ruefully. In the castle, he could leave her alone when he needed to escape from the havoc she played on his senses. There was nothing within its walls that could do her harm. But out here… there were wild animals that could tear her to shreds, deep ravines she could stumble into, rivers that could sweep her away. He would have to keep her in his sight every moment.
He headed east when they reached the bottom of the trail.
The land stretched ahead of them, gently rolling hills and shallow valleys all covered in a sea of deep green grass. Tall trees garbed in the bright emerald green of early spring grew in scattered clusters. Large birds soared across the sky. He saw a small herd of deer grazing in the shade of a stand of timber. A speck of blue far off in the distance promised a water hole.
For a time, he lost himself in the rocking chair movement of his horse. He seldom found time to ride, seldom left his mountaintop. He had forgotten how beautiful the countryside was, the sense of freedom horseback riding afforded. He looked back from time to time to check on Channa Leigh. She rode with her face lifted to the sun, drinking in its warmth, her head turning at the sound of a flock of black-headed geese winging their way south.
He and Channa Leigh rode all that day, stopping now and then to rest the horses or to get something to eat or drink.
Channa Leigh rode without complaint, her eagerness at being outside evident in her expression. Though she could not see, she used her other senses to the fullest, running her hands over the thick velvety grass when they stopped near a river, listening to the birds as they chirped in the treetops, picking a handful of sweet-smelling flowers.
At dusk, he reined his horse to a halt. Dismounting, he lifted Channa Leigh from the back of the mare.
"Wait here," he said, and when he was certain she would obey, he unsaddled the horses and turned them loose. Next, he spread a blanket on the ground and bid Channa Leigh sit down.
When she was comfortable, he drew a circle on a small, barren patch of ground. A few words, and a fire sprang to life, crackling cheerfully in the gathering dusk.
He pulled the ingredients for dinner from his saddlebags, filled a pot with water to warm for tea. And all the while, he watched her, becoming more and more enchanted with her nearness, more and more drawn to her beauty of face and form and spirit.
She sighed, a soft sound, yet he heard it clearly.
"What is it, lass?" he asked.
"I was just wondering…"
"Wondering?"
"About Magick."
"What kind of magic?"
She laughed softly. "Not sorcery. Magick, the wolf."
He grunted softly. "What were you wondering?"
"If he would come to me if I called."
"What need have you of the wolf?"
"I…" She chewed on her lower lip a moment. "I was wondering… that is, I should very much like to see your face."
His eyes widened in surprise. Of all the things she might have said, that was the furthest from his mind. He wondered if he should tell her that he was the wolf. He knew she was a little afraid of the master of Darkfest Castle. Would she be less afraid of him if she knew he was the wolf? Or more?
The wolf. What was there about his being the wolf that restored her sight? In wolf form, his own form, or any other, he was still Darkfest. He frowned. Was it the fur?
A bit of magic made quick work of cleaning up after dinner. He fixed a bed for Channa Leigh and one for himself, assured her that the fire would burn all through the night, keeping wild animals at bay.
He sat by the fire long after she was asleep, his gaze returning time and again to her face. A sigh escaped her lips, and then she smiled. It took all his self-control to keep from stealing into her dreams to see what it was that made her smile.
It was nearing midday when he realized they were being followed. Reining his horse to a halt, he turned in the saddle. Summoning his wizard's vision, he scanned their back trail, his gaze narrowing when he saw Ronin the hunter in the distance.
Darkfest cursed under his breath.
"What is it?" Channa Leigh asked. "Is something amiss?"
"Your betrothed is following us."
"Ronin? But how… ?"
Darkfest shook his head; then, realizing she could not see, he said, "I dinna know, the fool."
"You will not harm him?" she asked, her voice tinged with alarm.
"Nay, I will not harm him," he muttered, "but I may change him into a toadstool."
"What?"
"I said I will not harm him." At least not permanently.
Darkfest watched the boy ride toward them, then rein his horse to an abrupt halt when he saw Darkfest waiting for him. The boy looked around, as though seeking a place of concealment, even though he had no hope of hiding now that he had been seen. He might be a mighty hunter, Darkfest mused, but he was not a warrior.
"Ride on," Darkfest commanded. "There is no place for ye to hide."
Squaring his shoulders, Ronin urged his horse onward.
"Why are ye following us?" Darkfest demanded.
"Why are you taking Channa Leigh away?"
" 'Tis my own business and none of yours. Be gone with ye before I turn ye into a croaking toad."
The boy's eyes widened, and then he sat up tall and straight in the saddle. "I fear you not, wizard."
"Do ye not?"
The boy shook his head bravely.
Darkfest lifted his right hand. Felt the air crackle around him as he summoned his power, shaping it in his mind.
"I am Darkfest, master of fire and flame; change this mortal to a creature new; frog be now his name."
Amid a shower of green and silver sparks, the boy was transformed into a large green bullfrog. Sitting on the horse, the frog stared at Darkfest through bulging eyes, the croak that erupted from his throat filled with panic.
"Are ye still unafraid, hunter?"
Though the hunter now wore the guise of a frog, his awareness was th
at of the boy. The frog croaked again and again, louder each time.
With a wave of his hand, Darkfest returned the boy to his own shape.
Ronin stared at him, unable to disguise the fear in his eyes.
"Go home, hunter," Darkfest said, "lest a worst fate befall ye."
Ronin glanced at Channa Leigh. "May the gods protect you, girl, for you'll see me no more."
"Ronin!" She called his name but heard only the sound of his horse's hooves galloping away. "What did you do to Ronin? I heard the croaking of a frog. You didn't turn him…"
He turned in the saddle to face her. "I did, but only for a moment. He doubted my power. He doubts no more."
"And wishes to wed me no more."
"Does that sadden ye?"
She searched her heart, then shook her head. "Still, it was cruel to treat him thus."
"Would ye rather I had left him that way? I canna have him following us, and I willna be responsible for his safety. And there's an end to it."
And so saying, he urged his horse forward.
The mare trotted obediently behind.
CHAPTER 9
Because it grieved him to think of her being in darkness, because he longed to feel her touch upon him once more, he gathered his power around him and transformed into the wolf that night.
"Magick!" Her voice was filled with joy when he laid his head in her lap. "What are you doing here? How did you know where I was?"
He growled low in his throat as he felt his energy flow out of him. Out of him and into her as her hands fisted in the fur at his neck.
"Sure and you are a magic wolf!" she exclaimed softly. "For your eyes have changed color again!" They were green now, as green as new grass. She ran her hands over his head and neck as she glanced at her surroundings. They were in a small dell surrounded by lacy ferns and night-blooming flowers that filled the air with a sweet perfume. Overhead, a million stars twinkled on a bed of indigo velvet. A small fire burned nearby, fingers of orange and crimson dancing brightly in the darkness.
"But where is he?" she wondered aloud. "The wizard? Do you know where he goes? I think he worked mischief upon Ronin this very day." She smiled wistfully. " 'Twas brave of Ronin to come after me."
The wolf growled low in his throat.
She looked down at the wolf. "You disagree?"
The wolf barked once.
"Well, 'tis no matter now. My lord Darkfest frightened Ronin away. I doubt he shall ever find the courage to face my lord Darkfest again. Nor can I blame him. The wizard is a powerful man, and though I fear him greatly, I shall never forget how he saved my mother's life."
The wolf licked her hand, his tail thumping against the ground.
"Dare we go for a walk?" she asked.
The wolf stood, his tail wagging. Thrusting her hand into the thick ruff at his neck, she walked away from the fire and into the darkness. The grass beneath her feet was a thick deep green.
"I wonder where he is," she mused again. "Do you know him? I should very much like to know what he looks like. I can tell he is a tall man, for when he speaks to me, his voice is above my head. His voice is rich and deep, but not unkind, though I sense a great sadness there. Perhaps because he lives alone?" She walked a few moments in silence. "I wonder why he lives alone. He seems of an age to have a wife."
She gasped with pleasure when she came to a small moonlit pool. Kneeling, she put her hand in the water. "A hot spring," she said. "It feels heavenly." She glanced around. "Do I dare… ? Will you guard me if I slip into the water?"
The wolf barked, his eyes bright as she removed her shoes and stockings, unbraided her hair, undressed quickly, and slid into the warm water.
"Magick? Are you there?"
The wolf moved to the edge of the water, stretched out on his belly, and pushed his head against her shoulder. Her fingers immediately delved into his fur. She sighed with pleasure as she relaxed in the effervescent water. Leaning her head back, she gazed up at the stars.
"Aren't they beautiful? They shine so. Do you see?"
The wolf whined softly.
"I was to wed Ronin next year," she said with a sigh. "And though I did not love him, he was my only hope for marriage. Ah, well, perhaps someday another will want me. I hope so, for I should dearly love to have a child of my own." Tears thickened her voice. "Will you come to me, then, Magick? Will you be my eyes so I can see my child's face?"
The wolf licked her cheek.
"I shall take that for a yes."
She lingered there a moment more, until the wolf took her hand in his mouth and gave a gentle tug.
"Right you are," she said. "Sure and we'd best go back."
The wolf watched her as she rose from the pool, the water dripping down her skin like dewdrops. The moonlight danced in her hair, making silver highlights in the thick golden mass that fell past her hips. Her body was slender and perfect, her buttocks gently rounded, her legs long and coltish, her breasts small, the tips a dusky rose.
She stood there a moment, letting the warm breeze dry her skin, and then quickly pulled on her dress. Sitting down, she put on her stockings and her shoes, then stood once more.
"Magick?"
The wolf moved up beside her and she took hold of his fur. Moments later, they returned to the site of their camp.
Sitting down on her bedroll, Channa Leigh removed her shoes, then slid under the covers.
"Come," she said to the wolf, patting the ground beside her.
The wolf stretched out beside her. With a sigh, Channa Leigh draped her arm over his neck. Stroking his soft fur, she stared up at the stars. How beautiful they were, sparkling like dewdrops against the dark sky. A butter-yellow sickle moon hung low in the heavens. Smiling faintly, she began to count the stars.
A short time later, her soft, even breathing told the wolf she was asleep.
Easing out from under her arm, Darkfest took on his own shape. "Sweet dreams to ye, my sweet Channa Leigh." he whispered. Seeking out his lonely bed, he stared up at the dark sky, but it was Channa Leigh's image rising from the waters of the hot spring that followed him to sleep.
The next day they traveled through a deep valley. As they rode on, Darkfest was overwhelmed with a sense of evil. The horses felt it, too. It could be seen in the way their ears twitched, in the way they picked up their feet, the way they sidled close together.
As they moved deeper into the valley, Darkfest reached inside his shirt and withdrew a small leather pouch. Inside were bits of birch, hazel, rowan, ash, and willow. And a large piece of alder. He also wore a bracelet of carved alder on his left wrist
He saw Channa Leigh lift her head. "Where are we?" she asked.
"The valley of Madrigale."
"Something is amiss."
"Aye. I sense evil here."
She shivered and drew her cloak more tightly around her. "What kind of evil?"
"I know not."
They rode onward, and the sense of evil grew stronger.
Darkfest reined his mount to a halt, and the mare drew up alongside. His gaze moved over the valley before them. At first, he saw nothing and then, gradually, a dull shimmer, like moonlight on water, rose up before him, changing, twisting, taking on solid form and shape, until a figure with wrinkled gray skin and white hair stood before him. She wore a long black robe decorated with skulls and exploding comets.
"Who dares to cross my valley?" she demanded, her voice dry and brittle, like old bones.
"I am Darkfest, crone. Let us pass."
"Nay. Be gone!"
"I mean you no harm," he said quietly. "I seek the dragon Blackencrill."
"Then you are twice a fool," she said, cackling. Her deep-set yellow eyes narrowed as her gaze shifted to Channa Leigh. "Leave the girl and you may cross my valley in peace."
"Nay. The girl is mine." And even as he spoke the words, he regretted they were only partly true. She was his for this year only, no more.
The witch lifted a skeletal hand. He heard her mumbling s
omething under her breath, felt an increase in the energy arcing between them.
He reacted instinctively, his right hand tingling as he summoned his power. There was no time to invoke a spell. He flung his own energy out to block her incantation. Power flowed from deep within him, racing down his arm, shooting blue fire through the tips of his fingers. There was a sudden crackling, like ice breaking, as blue flame met the black lightning hurled by the crone. A sharp whoosh of air flattened the grass and bent the trees. The crone screamed, a high-pitched cry of outrage and pain, as blue fire engulfed her. And then, abruptly, there was silence.
"Darkfest? Darkfest!"
Channa Leigh's frightened cry brought him back to himself. "I am here." He stared at the blackened patch of ground where the crone had stood. A faint wisp of black smoke rose skyward. "The danger is past."
They camped that night near a narrow stream bordered by slender willows. After supper, Channa Leigh sat beside the fire, staring broodingly into the flames. The fire's light cast golden shadows on her fair skin. Desire stirred within him, a hunger for the touch of her hand, the taste of her lips.
She turned as he came up behind her. "My lord Darkfest, is that you?"
"Aye." He sat down beside her, his insides quivering. "Channa Leigh, would you grant me a boon?"
"If I can, my lord. What is it you wish of me?"
"A kiss," he replied, chagrined at the unexpected quiver in his voice. "Would you grant me a kiss?"
She hesitated a moment. Was she repulsed by his request?
Or was it only maidenly modesty that made her delay before answering?
"And would you grant me a boon in return?" she asked at last.
"If I can."
"I should like to see your face," she said.
" 'Tis a bargain then. The wolf will come to you later." He drew his knife and placed it in her hand. "When he comes to you, cut off a bit of his hair and place it in this pouch."
"Will he let me?"
"Aye."
"Will you collect your boon now?" she asked, her fingers closing around the small leather sack.
"Nay. On the morrow, when the sun is new, we shall look upon each other. For now, I bid you good night."