Forbidden

by Elizabeth Lowell

  “Aye.”

  Silently Cassandra looked from Erik to Dominic. Then she looked at no one at all.

  “Erik, son of Robert,” she said. “Dominic, Wolf of Glendruid. If you go to war now, it is because you wish to. Amber is no longer your excuse. She has—”

  “What are you saying?” Erik interrupted roughly.

  “—removed herself from your masculine equations of pride and power and death.”

  “What has she done?” Erik demanded.

  “She gave her amber pendant to Duncan.”

  The peregrine shrieked as though its blood had turned to fire.

  But even the falcon’s scream couldn’t drown the chilling scream of masculine rage that came echoing down the keep’s great hall from above.

  Cassandra tilted her head as though savoring the sound. Her smile was as cruel as winter.

  “Duncan’s suffering has begun,” she said softly. “Amber’s soon will end.”

  Dominic looked from the Learned woman to Erik.

  “What is she talking about?” Dominic demanded.

  Erik simply shook his head, unable either to speak or to calm his falcon’s wild cries. He looked as though he had been struck by a mailed fist.

  Another scream of anger echoed. Before it ended there were horrible sounds of smashing and clashing and rending, as though a battle were being fought in the lord’s bedchamber.

  “Simon,” Dominic said, coming swiftly to his feet.

  “Aye!”

  Side by side, the two brothers raced up the stone stairway to Duncan’s bedchamber. What they saw there made them pull up short in the doorway.

  Duncan was a man possessed. Naked but for two amber talismans, he stood with the battle hammer in one hand. His lips were drawn back from his teeth in a grimace of pain or rage or both in unholy communion.

  With a lunge, he ripped covers from the bed and flung them into the hearth. Smoke bloomed sullenly, then burst into savage flames, burning even higher than before.

  The hammer whistled and hummed in a deadly blur, driven by the mad power of Duncan’s arm. The hammer descended, a wooden table exploded, and he kicked the pieces into the fire. Then the hammer sang again, cutting circles around Duncan’s head, its moan in ghastly duet with his scream of fury. The bed frame was smashed to kindling and fed to the ravening fire.

  Dominic had seen men like this before, in the heat of battle, when the leash was slipped on all that was human and only rage remained.

  “There will be no reasoning with him,” Dominic said softly to Simon.

  “Aye.”

  “We have to take him before he turns on the people of the keep.”

  “I’ll get some rope from the armory.”

  Dominic drew his sword. “Don’t be long, brother.”

  He was talking to himself. Simon already was sprinting toward the staircase.

  Very quickly Simon reappeared with a coil of rope in his hand. Dominic was waiting in the doorway, his heavy black mantle in one hand and his sword in the other. As soon as he saw Simon, he sheathed the sword.

  “When I tangle the hammer in my mantle,” Dominic said, “get enough rope on Duncan to hold a bear.”

  Just as Dominic started forward, he sensed Meg coming up behind him. His arm shot out, barring her from the room.

  “Stay back,” Dominic said in a low voice. “Duncan is in a berserker’s rage. He doesn’t know anyone right now, least of all himself.”

  The hammer moaned and whipped through the air. Wood shattered like pottery. The chest was destroyed in a single blow and kicked into the fire. All that remained was a smaller chest and a wardrobe.

  As soon as the hammer began to circle again, Dominic struck. His mantle fouled the hammer. Before Duncan could jerk it free, Dominic dove at him low and hard, sweeping Duncan off his feet. He landed with a crash that drove the breath from his body.

  Even that wasn’t enough to subdue Duncan. If it hadn’t been for Simon’s quickness, Duncan would have shaken off the attack with the strength of the madness that had claimed him.

  But in the end, the two brothers finally managed to truss Duncan like a fowl for the spit.

  Duncan gave a last, terrible cry and strained against his bonds until his face was dark. Even his great strength wasn’t enough to throw off Dominic, Simon, and the ropes that bound him. Slowly the violent tension began to leave Duncan’s body.

  Breathing heavily, Simon and Dominic wiped sweat from their faces and came warily to their feet. Duncan lay unmoving, his eyes open, staring at nothing. Dominic retrieved his mantle and spread it over Duncan’s nakedness.

  “Now, Meg,” Dominic said. “He knows you best.”

  “Duncan,” Meg said softly. “Duncan.”

  Slowly Duncan’s head turned until he could look at her.

  “Meggie?” he asked.

  “Aye, Duncan. What is wrong?”

  The last light of madness left Duncan’s eyes, leaving no light at all.

  “Gone,” Duncan said simply.

  “What?”

  There was no answer.

  Meg came forward and knelt by Duncan’s shoulder. Gently she stroked the hair back from his sweat-drenched forehead.

  “Amber?” asked Meg. “Is she gone?”

  “The light…” A shudder went through Duncan’s big body. “She took the light with her, Meggie.”

  22

  “THE drawbridge is up,” Simon said to Dominic. “The gate is sealed. Amber can’t be gone.”

  “Every keep has at least one bolt-hole.”

  “Then she can’t have gone far,” Simon said. “She left at night in a storm.”

  Cool laughter came from the hallway beyond the bedchamber. When Simon and Dominic turned, they saw Erik. He was watching Duncan with a combination of anger and pity in his eyes.

  “Amber is Learned,” Erik said. “If you blink, she will be out of your sight. If you blink twice, she will be beyond your reach.”

  “Set your hounds after her,” Dominic said.

  Erik shrugged. “As you wish.”

  “You don’t sound enthusiastic about finding your sister,” Simon said.

  “She will head for sacred ground. The dogs won’t follow once she reaches a stone circle.”

  Simon muttered something under his breath about witches, but didn’t argue the matter. He had learned in trailing Meg that the ancient stone rings had secrets they yielded to no outsider.

  “We have to try,” Dominic said.

  “Why?” Erik asked bluntly.

  “I don’t want war with you.”

  “You won’t get it.”

  “In six days,” Dominic said, “I will put my seal to the decree setting aside Duncan’s marriage to Amber.”

  “In six days it won’t matter.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do you care, Wolf? War has been avoided.”

  Erik turned on his heel and stalked down the hall. Cassandra was waiting for him at the head of the stairway.

  Dominic watched as Erik took the Learned woman’s hands between his own. Though neither wept, their mourning was almost tangible. Uneasily Dominic looked back at Duncan.

  Duncan’s suffering has begun. Amber’s soon will end.

  The light…She took the light with her, Meggie.

  Abruptly Dominic was afraid that he knew what Cassandra had meant, and what Duncan’s suffering would be.

  It must not be allowed to happen.

  “Simon,” Dominic said sharply.

  “Aye. The war-horses?”

  “Yes. One of us should stay here.”

  “Is Meg riding?”

  Dominic looked over his shoulder. Meg was still kneeling next to Duncan, stroking his forehead. Tears were falling slowly down her cheeks. Duncan’s eyes were open, but he was seeing nothing except what he had lost.

  “Meg,” Dominic said gently.

  She looked up.

  “We’re going to put the hounds on Amber’s trail,” Dominic said. “If it ends in on
e of the ancient places, would you be able to pick the trail up again?”

  “If Old Gwyn were here, perhaps she could.” Meg looked down at Duncan. “I don’t know if I can. I do know that Duncan needs…something. And I am a Glendruid healer.”

  “Stay here and guard your wife,” Simon said quickly to his brother. “She’s worth more than all of the Disputed Lands put together.”

  “What of your safety? Sven is still out in the countryside measuring the temper of the people.”

  “I’ll take Erik with me.”

  “He might attack you.”

  Simon’s smile was swift and savage. “That would be a pity, wouldn’t it?”

  Dominic gave a crack of laughter and said no more.

  Shouted orders went out. Soon three horses were thundering over the lowered drawbridge. Two were battle stallions ridden by knights in chain mail. Against all custom, one of those knights carried a peregrine on his wrist. The third horse was a white stallion ridden by a Learned woman whose long silver hair blew in the breeze without restraint.

  A single, large wolfhound waited on the far side of the bridge. There was no hound master in sight.

  “Just one hound?” Simon asked.

  “If there is a scent,” Erik said, “Stagkiller will find it. If the scent can be followed, he will follow it.”

  At an unseen signal from his master, Stagkiller began casting about for Amber’s scent. He found it in a thicket of willows fifty yards from the keep’s wall.

  “Exit from the bolt-hole?” Simon asked blandly.

  If Erik answered, it was lost in the deep baying of Stagkiller as he took to the scent trail. The rough-coated hound ran with the long, tireless strides of a wolf. The horses followed.

  Serfs and villeins looked up as the trio of horses galloped by. When the men saw Cassandra’s unbound hair, they crossed themselves and wondered who had been foolish enough to call down the wrath of the Learned.

  The horses galloped down the cart road until the trail cut to a lane that zigzagged between fields and cottages. Mud leaped from beneath the horses’ big hooves and stuck to the drystone fences that rose from the ground on both sides of the lane.

  Soon the last of the keep’s farmland lay behind. The forest began abruptly, looming up from the misty land in shades of pale bark and rich brown, lingering oranges and yellows and reds, and the startling evergreen fire of holly and ivy.

  Stagkiller coursed the scent with lean intensity, never easing the pace no matter what the terrain or vegetation. After a time, mist-wreathed hills rose all around and a brook glinted darkly as it snaked between hills.

  A long, low ridge of land lifted slowly beneath the horses’ feet. When they crested it, a circle of stones lay beyond. Nose to the ground, Stagkiller loped up to the ancient place.

  And then the hound stopped as though he had run into a wall.

  With a howl of disappointment, Stagkiller looked to his master. Erik sent the peregrine into the air with a swift movement of his arm.

  “Search,” he ordered the hound curtly.

  Stagkiller began casting for scent around the edges of the circle. It quickly became obvious that there was no scent to be found.

  “God’s teeth,” Simon snarled. “’Tis just like Blackthorne.”

  Cassandra gave him a curious look.

  “I tracked Meg once to an ancient place,” Simon said without looking away from Stagkiller. “The dogs lost her scent.”

  “Did they pick it up again?” Erik asked.

  “No.”

  “Did you search the place?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” asked Cassandra.

  “I was backtracking. I already knew where Meg was.”

  Cassandra and Erik looked at each other.

  “Search Stone Ring,” Erik invited.

  Simon reined his horse over to the stones. The stallion refused to walk between. Circling the ring, Simon tried several more times, finally using his spurs. No matter where he pointed the stallion, or what prodding he gave the horse, it refused the trail.

  Dismounting, Simon walked warily up to the circle. When he looked inside, he saw nothing remarkable. Rocks. Random weeds. Stones canted and covered with moss. A low mound. Mist writhing and lifting in a thousand silver veils.

  With an impatient oath, Simon set off between the stones on foot. Every instinct he had was on edge, quivering with alertness. Yet he saw nothing. He heard nothing.

  No tracks but his own showed in the mist-drenched grass. A quick turn around the base of the mound and over its top told him that the mound had neither an entrance nor any rock large enough to hide behind.

  Relieved, Simon turned his back on the mound and headed for the standing stones where his battle stallion nervously waited. Just as Simon reached for the reins, he stopped, remembering something he had been told when he had first come to Stone Ring Keep as a knight on a quest.

  “Is this where you found Duncan?” Simon called to Erik.

  “Aye. On top of the mound, at the foot of the rowan tree, inside the second ring of stones.”

  Simon spun back toward the mound. He narrowed his eyes against the watery sunlight that was somehow so brilliant it forced him to squint. For a moment he thought he saw the elegant line of a rowan, but it was only a curl of mist rising.

  Uneasily Simon looked around once more. As he had thought, there was only one ring of stones. Even so, he kept glimpsing a second, ghostly ring from the corner of his eye.

  Yet when he looked straight on, there was nothing but mist.

  With an impatient curse, Simon mounted and rode back to where Cassandra and Erik waited with a thoroughly downcast Stagkiller.

  “That can’t be where you found Duncan,” Simon said. “There is no rowan here, and only one ring of stones.”

  “If you say so, then it must be so,” Cassandra said.

  “What do you say?” Simon demanded of Erik.

  “Sometimes Learned eyes see differently.”

  “Then in the name of God, go and look.”

  Without a word, Erik and Cassandra rode to the ring of stones. Their horses switched their tails and minced warily between the large standing stones, but otherwise made no protest. A few yards farther into the ring, the animals visibly calmed. When their riders dismounted, both horses set to grazing as though in a familiar meadow.

  Simon watched the two figures climb the mound. Silhouetted against the brilliant, misty sky, they were almost impossible to see. Using his hand, Simon shaded his eyes against the light that was both soft and yet so intense it made his eyes water to stare directly. Finally he managed to clear his vision.

  Erik and Cassandra were gone.

  A chill went over Simon in the instant before he realized that they must have walked down the far side of the mound and out of his sight. With a savage word, he blinked rapidly, then narrowed his eyes against the light.

  There was no one on the mound.

  His horse snorted and yanked on the rein. Simon looked at the stallion, saw that it wanted only to graze, and looked back at the mound.

  Cassandra and Erik were silhouetted against the sky once more. Their outlines wavered for a moment, as though they were reflections on the surface of a slightly disturbed pond.

  Simon blinked.

  When he looked again at the mound, Erik and Cassandra were walking toward him, talking in low voices. A peregrine arrowed down from the brilliant gray sky to land on Erik’s wrist.

  “What did you find?” Simon asked impatiently.

  “Amber was here,” Cassandra said.

  “And?”

  “Now she is gone,” Erik said.

  “But your hound found no trail,” Simon objected.

  “Did your hounds do better at Blackthorne Keep?”

  Simon grunted. “Where is Amber?”

  Erik looked at Cassandra. The Learned woman was braiding her hair with fingers that shook.

  “Where is Amber?” Simon asked Cassandra harshly.

&nb
sp; “I don’t know.”

  “What does your Learning tell you?” he demanded.

  “Something I can scarce believe.”

  “God’s teeth,” Simon hissed. “What is it?”

  “She took the Druid way,” Cassandra said simply.

  “Then follow!”

  “We can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Cassandra turned and looked at Simon with glittering silver eyes.

  “You haven’t the Learning to understand,” she said. “Nor do you wish it. You have contempt for anything less tangible than a sword.”

  With a snarled word, Simon vaulted onto his war stallion. Soon the three riders were headed back for Stone Ring Keep at an even faster pace than they had left it.

  “HOW is Duncan?” Dominic and Simon asked Meg simultaneously.

  Meg looked from the great hall where she was sitting to the lord’s solar just beyond. Duncan was there at a table, listening to Ariane’s mournful tunes while staring into the costly, ancient pendant that Amber had once worn.

  At least Meg assumed that was what had captured Duncan’s attention. He had his hands cupped around the pendant, protecting and concealing it as though it were a fragile flame in the wind.

  “Duncan is the same as he was yesterday,” Meg said. “If I speak loudly enough, he will answer. Otherwise, he ignores everyone but Dominic, to whom he feels indebted.”

  Simon grimaced. “God’s blood. ’Tis like he has no…”

  “Soul?” Meg offered.

  “No emotions, certainly,” Dominic said.

  “’Tis the cost of locking away much of yourself in order to survive,” she said. “You should understand that, husband. You once did the same.”

  “Aye. But I hadn’t met you then. Duncan has already met his witch. If he cuts off so much of himself in order to live…” Dominic shrugged. “I fear it will be like a poisoned wound, with no healing short of death.”

  Simon muttered something about the foolishness of giving that much of yourself to a woman and stalked into the lord’s solar. Meg and Dominic followed. Even when all three stood in front of Duncan, he didn’t look up from his study of the amber pendant.

  “He is bewitched,” Simon said bluntly.

  “He is no more bewitched than Dominic is,” Meg said. “Duncan’s heart and body and soul have chosen a mate despite his vow. That mate is not Ariane.”