She Walks in Love (Protectors of the Spear Book 2)

by Marylu Tyndall

  Rumbling sounded. Nay, ’twas more like thunder, distant and hollow. The tunnel walls trembled. Alexia halted and held up the torch. An odd gust of wind blasted over them, flickering the flame and showering her with the smell of mold and earth. And something else. Water.

  Ronar squeezed beside her. “Tush, what is it now?”

  The thundering increased. As did the shaking. Dust and pebbles rained down upon them.

  “Earthquake?” Damien said from behind them.

  “Nay,” Seraphina added, her voice filled with terror. “’Tis something evil. Hurry!”

  Grabbing the torch from Alexia, Ronar nudged her behind him and hastened forward as fast as the tunnel and the shaking would allow. Alexia bounced against the stone walls like a loose apple in a hobbling cart. The roaring grew louder, the shaking increased. They struggled onward, angling down toward the storage room beneath the castle where another tunnel would lead them outside Luxley’s gates.

  Seraphina screamed.

  Alexia turned.

  A wall of water rushed for them.

  No time to react.

  It struck them with the force of a battering ram.

  Alexia slammed against the tunnel wall. Hard. Water filled her nose and mouth and gushed past her ears. Seraphina—or was it Damien—crashed into her, while she smacked into Ronar. Together, they all shot through the tunnel, carried by the mad torrent. Arms and legs flailing, she managed to clutch Ronar’s robe, a bastion of hope in the midst of a nightmarish flood. Her lungs ached for air, but she dared not gasp, lest water pour into them.

  Lord, help!

  Was this how she would die? Drowned like a rat in her own castle?

  She launched through the air, and her bottom hit hard stone. Seraphina fell on top of her. Grabbing her friend, Alexia moved out of the way of the cascade pouring from the tunnel into the tiny storeroom. Damien landed beside them. Ronar was already on his feet. He sloshed through the water toward the iron chest, behind which hid the tunnel that led outside.

  Alexia stood and helped Seraphina up, but the water was already at their knees.

  After a quick glance at them to ensure they were all right, Damien went to help Ronar.

  But the water had already covered the chest. Both knights yanked with all their might. It wouldn’t budge.

  “Search for anything we can use to pry it!” Alexia shouted, nodding at a trembling Seraphina beside her. “’Twill be all right. You’ll see.”

  The maid smiled but Alexia could see in her eyes, she didn’t believe her.

  They waded through the rising water, searching for anything—a shovel, pickaxe—anything they could use. But there were only crates, barrels, and now-saturated sacks.

  The water was at Alexia’s waist now, cold, swirling water that sent a chill through her. And still it poured out of the tunnel entrance as if it hailed from a bottomless sea. Huge slabs of stone made up the tiny storeroom—floor, walls, and ceiling. Alas, even should there be a leak, a small opening somewhere, it wouldn’t drain the water quick enough to save them all from drowning.

  Terror choked her.

  “What are we to do?” Seraphina yelled.

  Alexia joined Ronar and Damien at the only door to the chamber. The knights yanked and pulled on the latch, but it wouldn’t budge. The three of them kicked at it with all their might, but their efforts were futile beneath the water.

  Ronar shook his head and took to feeling along the stone walls for any loose stones, any crack they could use to create an opening. Not that it would do them any good, for there was naught but dirt beyond the wall. Indeed, they were below ground, about to be buried in a tomb of water.

  That water was at her chest now. A rat floated by, along with several apples, which must have loosened from a crate.

  This can’t be happening. How is this happening? Alexia closed her eyes and shoved past her fear and shock, seeking the peace within…seeking the Spirit.

  “We are all going to drown!” Damien shouted, then growled into what was left of the air above him.

  “This cannot be!” Alexia shouted over the thunderous rush. “This is not real. We must pray! Come!” She searched for Seraphina’s hand beneath the water and gripped it as Ronar found hers. Damien, fear and anger marring his expression, stood at a distance for several seconds that seemed like forever ere he finally joined them.

  No time for a long prayer. Alexia lifted her face to heaven. “Mighty Father, in the name of your Son Jesus, I command this water to dry up at once!”

  Nothing happened. Instead, the water tickled her neck as it rose higher. “Peace, be still!” Alexia shouted. Moments passed. Was it her or did the roar of the water lessen? She opened her eyes and glanced toward the tunnel. The cascade became a surge, the surge became a flow, and the flow became a trickle.

  The water around them began to recede.

  Ronar started to laugh, small at first, but then it transformed into a hearty chuckle. Reaching behind her neck, he brought her head close and kissed her cheek.

  She smiled. “You make a rather handsome, wet priest, Sir Knight.”

  “And you a lovely mermaid.”

  “Both of you are cream-faced loons,” Damien groaned. “We nearly drowned, and you act as though we are at court.”

  Breathing hard, Seraphina eased beside the big knight. “We are saved, Sir Damien. Put by your ill humor.”

  “God has saved us once again!” Ronar shouted.

  “Praise His holy name!” Alexia added. Only then did she remember the document in her surcote.

  The now-saturated document.

  ♥♥♥

  “Nay!” Jarin darted for Cristiana as she approached the two ravenous wolves. Foolish woman! Sword drawn and ready to fight to his death for this lady, he was nearly upon them—when the two beasts sprang, fangs sharp and ready to clamp onto her flesh.

  Thebe screamed.

  Jarin thrust his blade at one of the wolves, but it struck air, and he toppled forward.

  Nay, not air. A mist. Black and undulating, it spun faster and faster, consuming the wolves and Cristiana in a dark cloud.

  Blinking to clear his vision, Jarin knew not what to do. Should he plunge his sword into it? What if he struck Cristiana?

  Growls emanated from the murky cyclone, along with the eerie caw of ravens.

  “Cristiana!” he shouted, staring at it as it whirled and lifted from the ground. Higher and higher it went, growing in both darkness and intensity, before it completely disappeared.

  Cristiana and the wolves were nowhere in sight.

  Chapter 34

  Darkness surrounded Cristiana. Thick, blackness with a life of its own…breathing…gyrating….pulsing. She whirled around. Black. Nothing but black. Yet it moved, flowed like ink, thick and heavy. She took a step, reaching out for it. An icy breeze wove around her hand, so cold, she jerked it back.

  “Where am I?” she shouted, sobbing.

  Laughter, deep, malevolent laughter pierced her ears and sent shards of terror down to her toes.

  Dropping to her knees, she hugged herself. Oh, God, am I in hell?

  No answer came. Instead, a cloak of despair weighed upon her, threatening to crush her beneath its weight.

  “Oh, God, oh God, oh God!” She kept repeating the words over and over.

  A pinprick of light shattered the darkness.

  “He can’t help you now.” The voice dripped with guile.

  The light grabbed ahold of Cristiana and pulled her from the darkness out of her nightmare.

  And straight into another one.

  A man’s face peered down at her, a grin that bore no kindness on his thin, pale lips.

  “Welcome, my intended.”

  Who? What? Where were Jarin and Thebe?

  Confusion gave way to fear, and Cristiana pushed from the dirt where she lay and jumped to her feet. Her vision whirled. She wobbled and reached behind her for something to cling to. Her hand found hard rock.

  The man straightened
and stared at her with eyes so dark, she found no white within them.

  “Do you not recognize me, my lady?” He moved closer to the fire. Flames flickered over his black robe and the hollow features of his face, then danced over the rock walls of a small cave surrounding them.

  The voice was familiar, yet it bore a confidence and authority that had been absent before. Nay. Couldn’t be. She inched toward him.

  Growling emanated from the shadows at the back of the cave.

  “Silence, pets!” The man waved a hand through the air.

  “Cedric?” she asked, still not believing it.

  He smiled. “You forget so soon the man you were to wed? The man you shamed by running away on our wedding day.”

  A breeze laden with pine and oak and night jasmine wafted around her, and she glanced to her left where a turn in the cave surely led outside.

  “Ah, you think your gallant knight will come to your rescue?” Cedric gave a sarcastic snort.

  “How did I…?” The last thing she remembered was walking toward two wolves, hoping to save… “Sir Jarin and Thebe. Where are they?”

  He smiled again and shrugged. “My guess? Miles from here. In good sooth, the man is surely glad to be rid of the burden of protecting you.” He leaned toward her and raised a hairless brow. “We both know Sir Jarin is not a man who would allow anyone to impede his libertine tendencies. Unless, of course, there were benefits offered?” He winked at her.

  It took Cristiana a moment to determine what he meant. “How dare you suggest such a thing!?”

  He sighed. “Then ’tis no wonder he has abandoned you.”

  Abandoned. Abandoned. Abandoned. The word pummeled Cristiana like a fist. A very familiar fist that had left its bruise more than once.

  “As to your other question, ’twas my pets that brought you here.” Cedric glanced fondly toward the shadows, where one of the wolves slunk out, plopped down, and whined. Reaching beside the fire, he selected two bones covered in raw flesh and tossed them into the corner. A storm of snarling, yapping, and growling ensued as the beasts leapt upon their meal.

  “What do you want?” Cristiana hated the weakness in her voice, hated the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

  “Why, you, my dear.”

  “I will not wed you, Cedric. Ever.” She knew her words might get her tossed to the wolves next, but she’d rather die than be wife to this man…this beast before her.

  He laughed and placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me deeply, my lady. Nay, as lovely as you are”—he cocked his head, assessing her—“I have no desire to marry you. Or anyone.”

  Cristiana’s legs turned to pottage, and she lowered to sit on a rock by the fire. Despite the flames rising toward the ceiling, the warmth did naught to chase away the chill that permeated every inch of her. A chill that only increased when she lifted her gaze to study Cedric and found naught but ice in his eyes.

  “What happened to you?” She remembered a young man full of life and joy, a lazy clodpole to be sure, but harmless nonetheless. He had never loved Cristiana. His father had forced him to press his suit upon her. Thus, his slide into darkness could not find its cause in her rejection.

  He flung his robes around him and lowered to sit, never taking his gaze from her. Dark smudges stained the skin beneath his eyes as if the man had not slept in a sennight. Pale, hollow skin covered his face and neck. Hair that had once been light now hung to his shoulders in a tangled mass the color of dirt.

  His lips lifted slightly. “I gained power. I became strong.”

  Strong? Yet there was an emptiness in his eyes as if all hope and joy had been leeched from him. “You think evil is strength. You are wrong.”

  Those eyes narrowed ere he snapped in the air and said something in a language she did not recognize. A raven appeared on his finger.

  Though everything within her flinched in fear, she attempted a calm demeanor.

  “I could order it to peck out your eyes, should I wish.”

  The bird glared at Cristiana as if longing to do just that.

  Terror threatened to squeeze her heart dry. For she knew now she was not dealing with a mere madman, nor with mere flesh and blood, but with principalities and rulers of evil.

  “’Tis the dark powers that aided me in finding you,” he continued, petting the raven. “When a host of trained soldiers failed.”

  Cristiana swallowed, trying to find her voice. “What is it you want with me?”

  “I am ordered to bring you back to Luxley, of course.” He lifted his arm and the raven flew off, disappearing into a puff of black mist.

  She gripped her hands together to keep them from trembling. How was she to fight against such evil? “So you do your father’s bidding?”

  “That foolish tosspot!” He roared, hatred firing from his eyes. “Nay. I no longer answer to him.”

  If not Sir Walter, then who had sent this fiend from hell to find her? Unless… “’Tis your ambition then to become Lord of Luxley?”

  “Pfff” He chuckled. “I assure you, my lady, my ambitions far outweigh such a lowly station.”

  “Then what use am I to you?”

  “To me? Naught. But a bargain was made with my master for your return.”

  “Your master?”

  “Enough! Your prattling tongue annoys me.” The wolves growled as Cedric rose from his seat like a specter from its grave.

  Against her will to appear strong, Cristiana shrank back. “Prithee, just kill me and get it over with.”

  His smile was as sharp as a blade. “As pleasant as that sounds, there is something you have that I need. Ergo, give it to me, and I may allow you to live. If you do not, I will rip it from your lifeless flesh.”

  What could this vile man possibly want from her? “I have naught of value.”

  “In good sooth, I beg to differ, my lady. You have a relic stained by the blood of my enemy. My master fears its power. I wish to use that power against him and take my rightful position as grand warlock of the realm.”

  A warlock? Her blood froze in her veins. A powerful one, from the sounds of it. Poor Alexia. What she must be up against.

  The Spear heated on Cristiana’s thigh. For what purpose? Averting her gaze from the evil man, she stared at the fire. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

  He chuckled. “Very well, lifeless flesh it is.” Flinging his robes behind him, he advanced toward her.

  ♥♥♥

  It took nearly an hour for Jarin to fully accept that Cristiana was gone. During that time, he searched every inch of the stable, then grabbed Thebe, mounted his horse, and further searched a mile in every direction over dark fields and roads. All the while, he desperately called her name whilst trying to calm down an hysterical babe.

  Finally, he returned to the stable, more despondent than ever, and plopped down in the hay, a weeping Thebe in his arms.

  “Where Cristi? I want Cristi!” the poor child wailed over and over.

  “I know, little one. I do as well.” He did his best to console her, to hold her tight and reassure her Cristiana would be all right, but Thebe refused to be comforted. The poor child had witnessed the same thing Jarin had, two massive wolves leaping on Cristiana ere all three of them disappeared in a cyclone of black smoke.

  Jarin had seen many strange things in his life—most of which had happened after he met Lady Cristiana. But he’d never seen the likes of a lady here one moment and gone the next. Something evil was afoot, something beyond this world. And beyond the cut of his blade. Which made him feel all the more helpless.

  Thebe finally stopped crying and stuck her thumb in her mouth, though sobs still wracked her small body, each one increasing his guilt. His one job, his only job, had been to protect Lady Cristiana at all costs. And he had failed.

  Miserably.

  How does one fight against what cannot be seen? If the wolves had been real, he would have plunged his blade through both of them. If they had been men, he would
have killed them ere he ever allowed them to lay a hand on Cristiana. If an army had captured and run off with her, he’d leave Thebe safe with a nearby family and dash to her rescue.

  But this? He had no idea what to do, where to go, how to find her.

  “Shh, shh.” He rubbed Thebe’s back and kissed the top of her head. “We will find Cristi, little one. We will find her. You have my troth.”

  What sort of man lies to a child? The accusation blared through his head over and over as he packed up the remainder of their food and water, tied Cristiana’s horse to his own, swung into his saddle, and headed out with Thebe in his arms. He could think of naught else to do but return to the main road, pick a direction, and ask along the way if anyone had seen the lady.

  Ridiculous idea since no person would be out in the thick of the night, and he could hardly see them if they were. Finally, after a few hours of aimless wandering, he led the horses off the main road into a patch of willows. Better to get some rest until daylight. Especially for Thebe, for the girl continued to sob and inquire how long before they found Cristi.

  After making a small fire and a bed of leaves for the girl, Jarin lay beside her, hoping she would go to sleep. He had no idea how to care for a child. Did they merely fall asleep on their own, or was there something he should do? He had not paid attention to what Cristiana had done.

  Thebe glanced behind her, then moved her little body right beside his, curling her back against his chest. She let out a ragged sigh and said. “Jarn, sing song.”

  Song? The salacious ballads Jarin knew would not be appropriate for a child. “I don’t know any songs. Go to sleep.”

  She began to whimper again, soft and low, sending quivers through her tiny body. “I want Cristi!”

  “Faith now,” he whispered, annoyance rising. “Hush. I’ll sing a song. Hush.” He swung an arm around her and drew her close. Then, clearing his throat, he made up a song and a tune to go with it about a frog, a pig, and a sleepy little girl. To his ears it sounded ridiculous and incredibly off-tune, and he was thankful none of his friends were nearby to make sport of him. But it made Thebe laugh and snuggle closer ere she grew limp in his arms and her breathing deepened.