by Troy A Hill
“Recover,” I said and leaned in for a hug. She was careful not to brush my injured side. She pulled in energy from the goddess and touched the bark of the tree in front of us. The red rift of the portal between our world and The Lady’s part of the Otherworld opened before her.
34
A Kiss of Blood
The door to Rhian’s study stood open a crack. Rhian sat on a chair behind the small table. She had documents and notes strewn about the table, and several nearby chairs. Behind her, the door to her own bedchamber was cracked open, but the door beyond that to her dressing area was shut. I thought back to the sensation of Rhian’s touch on my chest as she cleaned my own wounds the night before in that dressing room.
“Shut the door dear. No sense letting our voices drift.” She gestured to the end of the hall where Rhosyn sat. I pushed it shut. The chairs in the room were piled with various reports and letters she was reading. The day bed, which was the only open space left for me to sit. I positioned myself on the cushions, and sat cross-legged with my embroidery laid across my lap, after laid Soul on the floor next to the bed.
“I am pleased that you have learned to read and write,” I said, to invite conversation.
“One benefit to having monks and clergy in our lands,” she said. “My father saw his children educated in letters and numbers. Bleddyn’s father did the same, though Bleddyn’s sisters all died before they could marry.”
“Sickness?” I asked. Plagues of moderate or severe nature ravaged often through the lands here.
“In their case, yes,” Rhian said. “Pestilence kills many in our lands. That and war. British Lords are fast to anger and seek vengeance. My father married me to a man of stronger character than most of the other lords.”
“I seem to have found a pocket of sanity amidst all the crazy in Britain,” I said.
“Fortunately, we have Emlyn here.” She said. We hadn’t seen the swordmaster of Penllyn since I sent him on his run. “His reputation, and how well he trains the men in the Teulu have kept most other war bands out of Penllyn.”
Her eyes lingered on me.
“Now, you are here too.” She turned her attention back to her documents. We each pursued our tasks for a while. The Lady Penllyn muttered under her breath or smiled at the figures she compiled. Eventually, she tossed down the quill, and stood.
“I believe we’ll be able to get by if we suffer any hardship this summer,” she said as she turned and pulled the door behind her shut. I doubted anyone would enter the Lady Penllyn’s bedchambers unannounced. But Rhosyn was just beyond, two rooms away.
“If crops are damaged, herds are slaughtered… whatever, I think we’ll have enough in storage to get everyone through the winter.” Rhian arched her back, arms high above her head, to work the kinks out. She sat back down, but on the day bed near me.
I kept my needle moving.
“How are your wounds, Mair?”
“The same,” I said. “Until I feed, I won’t have the energy to heal them.”
“Can Gwen... you know?” She wiggled her fingers near my side as though she were an actor miming a magician.
I shook my head.
“When Gwen first found me in the woods after I escaped from the Witch Hunters, she said she tried and it had no effect.” I paused. “In fact, I wonder if it might have damaged me more. Her magic is to restore life, and I am no longer alive.”
Rhian leaned into me, and rested her head on my shoulder.
“I am so sorry that we’ve become the source of your injury,” she said. “When I offered you our friendship, I had no idea this was to happen.”
I leaned my head on hers.
“None of us knew this would happen.” I folded my embroidery and pushed it off to the side. I slid an arm behind her, and held her hands with my free hand. “That’s what friendship is. Enjoy the good times, and support each other in the not-so-good times.”
She dabbed her eyes with her sleeve.
“I apologise. I hoped I had my crying finished last night.” She scooted out and leaned to lay on her side, her head in my lap. Then she took hold of my arm and wrapped it tight around her.
“You’re right. Being friends is about helping each other, even in the bad times.” She lay there and let me hold her. My free hand stroked her hair. She rolled onto her back, head on my lap, and touched my face. “I want to help you.”
“I appreciate your offer, but I suspect you let your guilt speak,” I said. Emlyn had acted with rage. Now the Lady Penllyn offered me blood… or was there a glint in her eyes as she shifted emotions, to push her sadness away?
She touched her fingers to my lips.
“Perhaps a little of the guilt has loosened my tongue, but the desire has been there since before you told me of your nature.” I thought of her caresses across my chest the night before.
“Slide over,” I whispered. She raised herself and shifted on the bed. I glanced at the door to make sure it was latched against entry, then leaned down to kiss her soft lips. Her mouth met mine, and I sensed the passion build in her. When we pulled back her eyes fluttered open, I sent my thoughts into her mind and used the desire in her eyes as a doorway. Her skirts were high enough I could easy slide my hand along her thigh.
Slowly I worked to tease and excite her as our mouths explored each other. I gazed into her eyes and felt her mind. Her passion let my mind in. My undead abilities allowed me to link my mind with my donor’s mind. I could change their memories and hide my nature. But, I didn’t need to. I trusted Rhian. As with Gwen or with Emlyn, I’d share our passion across the mental link and let her keep her memories of today.
As I felt her desire rise, I leaned in toward her neck. I made the small nick I needed and placed my lips over the cut. Her warm red blood filled my mouth. Her blood fed my passion. I returned the sensation through the mental link. Her own excitement increased.
My hand teased and rubbed below, and my mouth drew blood from her neck above. Passions in both of us rose. She wrapped her arms around my neck and back and pulled me in tight. She buried her face in my neck to muffle her moans.
Her back arched and her breath hissed sharply as she climaxed. We both rode the passion. I took one last swallow, then pulled back from her neck and licked my lips, my eyes closed. I could feel her body tremble as she drifted back down. Or was that my body? Both of us? Yes. Even my own hands quivered as I reached up to cup her face. Her mouth found mine.
She licked her lips as we parted.
“Blood has never tasted so sweet,” she said. “Did you get enough?”
“Evidently you didn’t,” I suggested, and stroked her thigh again. A shudder of pleasure rippled through her. She leaned back and closed her eyes as she shivered again.
“Not so soon… I need time… that was… intense.”
“In answer to your question,” I said and kissed her again, “I have enough to heal. Your gift is most appreciated.”
Her fingers drifted to my lips. They wiped a drip of her blood off of my lip. She playfully placed her finger in her own mouth.
“Perhaps, when you need more, you will let me know.” She didn’t state it as a question. I’ve occasionally found donors that were more interested in the experience, rather than a lasting relationship. I leaned in and kissed her. She returned it with fervour.
“This won’t be often,” I said. “No jealousy, either.”
“What did you call it? Your donor?”
“Yes.”
“Then, my dear, I am not only glad to have you as a friend, but to be your donor as needed,” she said and sat up on the bed. “You are a blessing for us, and I appreciate your presence here… in more ways than one.” She kissed me again, and reached for a shawl to drape across her shoulders. It would hide the two red marks on her neck that would fade in a short while.
“Now, I need to be Lady Penllyn again.” She paused for one last kiss. “If you want your breasts caressed again, please don’t feel you need to get wounded to receive t
hat attention.”
She chuckled and kissed me again.
With that, she stood and smoothed her dress. Then she sat at the table. She pulled out a document to read. I started my embroidery again.
“I think we can muster about two score skilled troops, and maybe two hundred archers or spearmen in the teulu.” She tapped her list with a finger. “Did you and Bleddyn come to a conclusion about what we might face?” she asked. Lady Penllyn was back.
An hour later, one of the herb women rapped on the door to report that Bleddyn’s wounds were as well as expected, and he was still asleep.
Cadoc found us shortly after. I had added a few inches to my embroidery by then. His mother handed him one of her lists.
“This appears slightly optimistic for men from our southern villages. The boys in that area are younger. They had a wave of baby girls for several years.”
She held out her hand for the list. “Drop them by a quarter?”
“That’s about right,” Cadoc agreed.
“Did you find Emlyn?” I asked. He laughed.
“Enid told me what you did. So I met him with mead,” he said. “I congratulate you. No one has ever gotten Emlyn to run the entire ditch around the fortifications, despite the many guard recruits he has sent.”
“Where is he now?” Rhian asked.
“After we toasted each of the babies, he asked Sawyl to plan a better inventory of the feedstocks and herds.” The young lord grinned at me again. “You have done well with Sawyl. Emlyn has had him in mind for a better role for some time, but the man’s attitude kept him out of promotions.”
“I told you we were blessed to have you here,” Rhian said.
A tingle began in the back of my head. Gwen’s mind reached out to me. I couldn’t make out any words, but got the impression she was about to return.
35
Returns
I shaded my eyes as I stepped out into the sunlight that flooded the courtyard. The goddess of Britannia sent me the energy my undead body needed to function in the harsh light.
Above the keep, where the hill sloped past the practice field, and where the rocky cleft of the Penllyn family crypt lay, Gwen sat at the edge of the small grove of trees. I sensed our link again, stronger that it had been when she reached out to me from the Otherworld.
When I finished the climb to meet her, Gwen rose and took my hand. She appeared well rested. Neither of us said a word. We drifted back to our log by the back edge of the cliff.
“You look well,” she said. “I’ll want to check your wounds once we get back to the cottage.” She still wanted to be my healer, despite my undead nature. “Was it Rhian?”
“I wasn’t going to mention my donors,” I said. She chuckled.
“She has always attracted women to her,” Gwen said. “For quite a while, I thought she did so only to advance Penllyn’s standing with other noble women.”
“Her marriage to Bleddyn seems… well…” I let my idea drift off.
“Most noble’s marriages are like theirs,” Gwen added. “They marry for duty. The good ones, like Lord and Lady Penllyn, begin as a partnership, and grow into love over time.”
“Love, but not sharing a bed most nights,” I said. “Discretion, and a way to hide the noble bastards is the same the world over, I’ve noticed. There was once a Comte in Burgundy…” I grinned at her, teasing with my potential story.
Gwen laughed and gave me an almost mischievous smile.
“Loving you is the easy part. Getting used to what that means with your dining needs will take longer.” She slid her arm around my waist and leaned into me.
“Tell me about your visit to The Lady,” I suggested, relieved Gwen wasn’t out of sorts about my time with Rhian.
“Little, if anything,” Gwen said. “I rested in my favourite spot in her sacred grove. There is a well there… more of a spring by her forest. I drank from it several times. Each time, I gained more energy. I napped with fleeting visions, some of the gwyddbwyll game you dreamt of.”
“She doesn’t know what we are about face?” I said. I had hoped for at least a validation of our estimations. “Or she won’t tell you?”
Gwen’s face settled into a thoughtful look.
“I’m uncertain she knows herself. This time, though, I sense a great sacrifice ahead. Death and destruction for sure, but closer.” She shook her head. Her golden-white hair swayed with the tiny movement. “Whenever she’s sent me directions for a task before, she’s been specific. But now, she’s vague.”
“If you listen to the Roman clerics drone on about their god,” I winked at her, “then deities always know what is about to happen and why. I find honesty in a goddess refreshing after all the blather of the priests in the other churches.”
“Oh, Mair. You are a treat.” Gwen laughed and hugged me tight.
Ruadh and the guards rode in through the gate as we began our walk back to the keep.
We met them at the bottom of the hill. Gerallt inquired about Cadoc or Emlyn. I told him I had last seen Cadoc with Rhian. Ruadh hugged Gwen, her body almost swallowed into his massive frame. Then he pulled me in for an embrace as well. He smelled of mead, and fur, and horse.
“Where is Rhys?” I asked.
“At the abbey,” he replied in his rough, rumbling voice. “The Abbott will hold a mass for him tomorrow, before he’s buried in the abbey’s graveyard.” He shifted his attention to Gwen. “How’s his Lordship?”
“Resting,” she said. “I’ll wait to wake him until after the funeral mass. The fool would try to walk to the abbey by himself if we left him here awake.”
Ruadh grinned, then excused himself. Grooms from the stable lead the horses away. Gwen directed one which packs were ours and asked him to deliver them to our cottage.
“Let’s go to the cottage, dearest,” she said. “I want to see your wounds.”
Once we were inside, she directed me to disrobe. I unbuckled my sword belt and stepped out of the dress Rhian had lent me. Gwen unwrapped the bandages. She gave a small gasp when she saw the edges of the first wounds appear.
“Your flesh is mending,” she said. Her fingers traced along the claw lines. My belly and side wore ugly red welts instead of open gashes. My blood-demon had used energy from Rhian’s blood to heal the gashes in my flesh.
“I’ll probably have to feed again to get the scars to fade.” I twisted my body to see if the scars were uncomfortable. “I can move well enough to fight as it is now.” Gwen rolled the bandages and folded Rhian’s red dress. I reached for one of my own dresses.
“I’ll go return the dress,” Gwen said from the doorway. “Then fix myself a plate for dinner. Meet you on the porch?”
I agreed and heard her latch the door behind her. Outside she spoke to someone. Once I had the dress on, I unlatched the door and let it swing open. I retrieved my belt, to strap Soul to my hip again. The groom brought our bags in. I directed him to place them on one bed. He eyed my sword, and his grin grew as he bowed.
“Me and the stable lads want to thank you, milady, for protecting Lord Penllyn and Lord Cadoc,” he said, as his head bobbed up and down enthusiastically. I still had enough of Rhian’s blood in me, as I felt a warmth flow into my cheeks. I thanked him and asked his name.
“Parry, milady,” he said. He bobbed several times with energetic bows again. The poor lad was going to rattle his brain. “Me and the lads at the stable like to watch you with the swords in the morning, milady.” He might be related to Rhosyn the way he talked and talked without a breath. “You and Lord Emlyn do your dance early, but we come out to watch you under the lamps on the field.”
“If you like, milady,” he said. His head bobbed vigorously again. “You and Lady Gwenhwyfar are welcome to visit the stables. We would love to show you the amblers, and Cadoc’s favourite Palfreys. He got a good eye fer horses, milady. Just the other day I would take one out…”
“I will do so,” I interrupted Parry and steered him back outside. He gave me another r
ound of vigorous nods. I was afraid I’d have to go find Gwen if he knocked himself silly with all of his energy.
“Come see the stables, milady,” Parry added as his head bobbed with each step. “Me and the lads, we can show you the horses. Master Rees, he keeps a good lot here. We’ve got lots of palfreys. Just like the ones you rode when ye went with Lord Penllyn.” Up and down, his head kept bobbing. He didn’t move farther until I promised to come see the stables.
36
Friends
Gwen sat on a bench on the keep’s large wooden porch. Most of the Caer’s people had already ventured inside for food. She scooted over, to make room for me on the far end of the bench. We were near the outer edge of the porch, about as far away from the doors to the great hall as possible.
“How’s Bleddyn?” I asked as she took a bite of bread. I had timed my question on purpose.
“You only did that because you know I can’t do the same to you,” she said. “His mind rests, and his wounds show no sign of the curse. But they are also slow to heal.”
“Shifter wounds are different,” I said. “I’ve seen a few. They heal rapidly, and the victim wishes they had died.”
“The spells I used to block the curse seem to have worked,” she said. Her eyes had grown distant again. “Fortunately, getting wounded by a shifter is rare. If I'm not present when someone is wounded, only Brother Iolo would be able to stop the curse from taking hold.”
“Iolo?” I asked. Red crept into her cheeks and she didn’t look my way for a moment.
“Oh dear,” she sent. “I over shared. I’m so comfortable with you Mair, that I forget who’s secrets I’m supposed to keep.”
“As long as it’s only with me,” I sent back. “I’d hate for you to tell the Witchers about Ruadh or I.”
Footsteps crunched along the path around the keep.
