Mystic Warrior

by Patricia Rice

  Instead of marching boldly along the harbor road, the soldiers Murdoch had feared arrived stealthily, through the shadows of the rocks along the gravel beach. He heard them before they could see him. He gave Pierre the final boost that lifted him over the railing and onto the ship. The captain grabbed his invalid passenger and hauled him toward the cabin, shouting at his crew to weigh anchor and raise the sails.

  Murdoch could have joined the others aboard with a single bound, but he wanted to know who was watching, unseen, concealed by the soldiers’ approach. Were the soldiers oblivious to the lurker’s appearance, or hiding him?

  Coming around the bend and finally seeing Murdoch, the scarred sergeant who had trapped him in the stable the previous day shouted, “Halt!”

  The sergeant led two foot soldiers in their plain blue uniforms, but none of the three was the Aelynner that Murdoch sought. “We have business in Le Havre,” he informed the Guards, leaping from the planks to the shore while reaching for the forged documents for which he’d spent the last of Lis’s coins. Lis still had the rest of her pearls, but he wouldn’t waste them on this crew. They were likely to let him rot in prison in hopes of prying more valuables out of him.

  The sergeant grabbed the papers, and held them upside down while pretending to peruse them. Many of these conscripted, untrained soldiers protecting France’s shores couldn’t read.

  “It lacks a seal,” the sergeant decided. “You must come with us.”

  Not bloody likely. Still conserving his energy, Murdoch raised the wind just enough to blow off their useless but costly bicornes.

  The youngest soldier chased the hats down the beach, while the older two pulled their sabers. With the rising wind, the surf slammed harder against the rock wall, wetting their boots.

  “The tide is going out, gentlemen,” Murdoch said in a tone of regret. “I do not have time to accompany you. I will be happy to obtain the proper seal when we return.” He made a gallant bow, then righted himself—with rapier in hand.

  The sergeant didn’t have time to properly engage his weapon before Murdoch used his rapier point to strike the saber from his opponent’s grasp, sending it flipping and twisting into the deeper water. “I regret the misunderstanding,” he said in amusement.

  That he was amused instead of furious was Lis’s doing. How could he be angry or frustrated when he’d recently been granted all he could desire?

  The remaining armed soldier raised his musket to his shoulder. Quelling a smirk, Murdoch nicked the man’s wrist before he could lower the weapon into position. The soldier yelped and almost lost his grip.

  Using his rapier as focus, Murdoch set fire to the musket’s gunpowder. The ancient weapon blew apart, scorching the soldier’s coat sleeve and tumbling him backward into the wall.

  Even Lis couldn’t complain that he’d revealed his gifts, he thought smugly. Muskets exploded all the time.

  In the meantime, the weaponless soldiers wouldn’t waste their lives by attacking an armed and skilled swordsman. As the third soldier returned at a run with the wind-tossed bicornes, Murdoch tipped the edge of his blade to his own hat in acknowledgment. “Until we meet again, gentlemen.”

  He splashed through the surf, vaulted back to the dock, and leapt across the growing gap to the ship’s deck just as the wind he’d raised caught the canvas. It would be a race to see whether the ship escaped before the last two muskets were brought to bear.

  “He’s still hiding in the rocks,” Lissandra murmured, appearing beside him as silently as a wisp of smoke, referring to the hidden Aelynner.

  Murdoch dragged her back against the cabin wall, placing himself between her and the musket fire. He’d given the man every chance to leap on board. In his opinion, any Aelynner who was cowardly enough to fear these soldiers wasn’t worth saving.

  But Lis’s concern touched a soft spot he hadn’t known he harbored. He grimaced and extended his energy to heat the tide and cool the night air. As the sun burned orange and red and dipped into the water, Murdoch created a fine mist that swept over the shore, drenching the beach in early dusk, and providing concealment to any who might be slipping along the water’s edge.

  Despite the mist, the soldiers took aim at the bow where he and Lis stood.

  His keen hearing caught a splash that wasn’t surf. The sloop lurched to starboard, on the side away from land. The soldiers aiming their muskets noticed nothing unusual. Murdoch didn’t know if Lis did.

  As the first shot fired over the bow, Murdoch caught Lis’s eye. She nodded, and together, they dived for cover while filling the sails with air.

  Lissandra waited for Murdoch to comment on the feat they’d just accomplished. She was still astounded that they’d understood each other’s needs and shared their strengths with such coordination.

  Instead, Murdoch stalked grimly toward the small cabin below the mainmast.

  The shots fired over the bow ceased as the ship slipped into the mist. The sun was already setting, obscuring the horizon.

  “I’m not sure I like this world,” she said aloud, just to disturb the walking thunderhead beside her.

  “You don’t belong in it,” Murdoch agreed. “Trystan can take you home once we reach England.”

  “Once we find the sacred chalice,” she corrected, reminding him of their mutual vision and goal. The shared dream of security and plenty just within their reach had to mean something—although she disliked the part where the chalice wouldn’t let her touch it.

  The reason for Murdoch’s testiness rose from among the water barrels, soaked and dripping, interrupting any further disagreement. Murdoch must have heard the newcomer arrive. If he would not communicate, she must learn to read the blasted man’s mind to grasp his moods.

  “Monsieur, mademoiselle.” Of average height but built sturdily, the intruder made a squishy bow. The lack of hat revealing his graying hair diluted the gallantry. “I fear I am a stowaway.”

  “You will be shark bait shortly if you endanger any of us.” Murdoch caught the man by his elbow and dragged him into the cabin where their companions waited.

  Lissandra knew from his mental shields that the stranger was the countryman they’d been seeking. But unlike Murdoch, she did not instantly assume that he was the village man who’d aided the committee. She had learned not to make hasty judgments. Besides, on the sea, neither she nor Murdoch had reason to fear him. He would, indeed, be shark bait if he caused harm.

  She struggled to determine the stowaway’s identity. On an island of only a few thousand people, she’d met them all at some time. But this one had made no impression on her memory.

  She checked his ring in the pale light of the cabin’s lantern and recognized the family crest. “A Minutor,” she said cautiously. “I regret I do not recall your full name.”

  The newcomer bowed again and replied in their Aelynn language, “I go by Guillaume Badeaux these days. I have not seen our home since childhood.”

  Which would have been before her birth, if she judged his age correctly. How many other Aelynners of whom she knew nothing resided in the Other World? Had her mother left a list?

  Their patient, Pierre, lay sprawled on the floor, his back resting against the wooden bulwark while Amelie helped bring a cup of water to his lips. Lissandra sensed that Pierre was perfectly capable of holding the cup but allowed his daughter to feel needed. She liked these two immensely and was glad Murdoch had rescued them.

  The Minutor—alias Badeaux—she was less certain about. He gave off no clues to his character. A Minutor who never returned home was not unusual. Miners hated the sea.

  “Why are you following us?” Murdoch demanded, kneeling to test Pierre’s pulse.

  “I only seek safe passage to England, monsieur,” the stranger said with a Gallic shrug.

  “Why would a Minutor be on the coast?” Murdoch turned an accusing glare on their countryman. “There is little mining in these regions.”

  There was little mining on Aelynn as well, which was why
there were so few miners—Minutors. Lissandra knew very little about the family that had explored the island’s volcano, expanded the caves and grottoes for public use, then migrated to other countries in search of gold and valuables of more use in the Other World than on Aelynn. Perhaps that was why she couldn’t judge this man’s guilt or innocence.

  “We settled in Strasbourg, France, near the coal mines,” Guillaume responded. “You understand, the sea, she is not good for us.”

  “Your kind are earthbound and don’t sail,” Murdoch said bluntly.

  “We all do what we must,” Guillaume said with stoicism. “I had wealth and thus have become suspect during these turbulent times.” His face hardened momentarily before he forced it into a bland mask. “I returned from a business journey to discover the Tribunal had imprisoned my wife and family. They died of dysentery before I could rescue them.”

  He said the last in French so that Pierre could understand.

  “I am so sorry,” Lissandra murmured into the ensuing silence. “This is a harsh world.”

  Pierre murmured a Catholic prayer for lost souls, while Lissandra offered silent entreaties to Aelynn.

  Murdoch, being Murdoch, glared at the stranger. “You will forgive me if we don’t trust a man who does not come forward and greet his countrymen openly,” he said with his usual bluntness. “Where have you been this past week?”

  “Me, monsieur?” the miner asked in surprise. “Why, here, seeking transport from the mad place that was once my home.”

  Despite his expert shielding, Lis knew the miner was lying.

  Twenty-one

  “You are an Olympus, the Oracle’s daughter?” Badeaux came to stand beside her as Lissandra waited at the rail, searching the night-darkened horizon for thoughts and emotions that might reveal the location of sailors on distant ships. With no understanding of why he had lied earlier, she still could not convict the miner of wrongdoing.

  She nodded at the man’s assumption but did not reveal that her mother had died. She had to believe her mother’s spirit was watching over her, and thus Dylys lived in her heart. To imagine otherwise would cripple her with sorrow.

  “Then you have the power to right the wrongs of the Revolution,” Badeaux said in an urgent whisper. “The radicals in Paris declare war on all the world. They will destroy Aelynn as they have destroyed my family and the best of France.”

  “We have no right to interfere in the Other World except to correct those mishaps that an Aelynner might have caused.” She parroted her mother’s assertion without mentioning her own doubts.

  “That is insane,” Badeaux responded harshly. “They are murdering innocent women and children. What could that poor shoemaker and his young child have done to justify their imprisonment? How can you witness such injustice and not act to stop it?”

  “The leaders of France believe they are right,” she said, reacting not to his anger but to his anguish, “just as the leaders of Aelynn believe in their way of doing things. Who is to argue which of us is better, smarter, or more capable? It is not my place to judge others.”

  “Then what is the purpose of an almighty Oracle if not to judge and rule?” he cried.

  That was a question she often asked herself, but she had no answer.

  As if they’d called his name, Murdoch appeared out of the darkness. “Does he disturb you?”

  “No more so than my own thoughts do,” she acknowledged. She supposed she ought to resent Murdoch’s protectiveness. But just knowing that the madly independent, elusive Murdoch wanted to take care of her filled her empty heart. Still, he ought to be guiding the ship, not bothering with this damaged man. That was her task.

  Despite her declaration, Murdoch deftly inserted himself between her and the miner, leaning against the rail and crossing his arms. “Tell me where you stayed this past week.” Were it not for his hostile tone, the question could have been an innocuous pleasantry.

  “I hid from the soldiers,” the miner said, stepping back in puzzlement at Murdoch’s tone.

  “He is ill,” Lissandra murmured to Murdoch. “His mental shields have somehow corrupted his mind. Let me work with him.”

  “I don’t want him anywhere near you,” Murdoch grumbled. “I can’t watch out for you, the English, this ship, and him all at once.”

  Lissandra nearly laughed. “I thought divided attention was your specialty. Go; I’ll be fine. A mere miner is no threat to me.”

  “Aelynners could lead an army and a navy!” Obsessed with his topic, Badeaux continued his argument as if they were listening to him. “We have Greek fire! I heard it was used not so long ago.”

  Lissandra raised an eyebrow at Murdoch. He was the one who had unleashed that horrifying formula for setting fire to water, and he’d nearly set Pouchay aflame because of his erratic inability to control the results. Trystan still held a grudge against him for that error.

  “That was a mistake that will not be repeated,” Murdoch said. “As Lissandra says, no one has invited us to be judges for their disputes. We can do no more than defend what’s ours.”

  “What if the world asks you to help?” Badeaux demanded, balling his fists with rage at their refusal.“Can you allow a rebellious rabble to destroy entire civilizations?”

  “The world does not know of our existence,” Lissandra reminded him. “And it must remain that way. We are too few and our sacred treasures too important to risk.” The loss of the precious chalice had proved the importance of keeping Aelynn untouched and unknown.

  To Lis’s surprise, Badeaux leapt past Murdoch to grab her arms and shake her. “You’re an Olympus; you can tell the world! Go to London, pledge your allegiance, offer your aid!”

  Before she could give thought to freeing herself from the grieving man’s grip, Murdoch caught Badeaux by his neckcloth, lifted the burly miner from his feet, and held him out over the ship’s railing and the lapping waves below.

  “Never lay a hand on the lady,” he said in an ominously detached voice.

  But it wasn’t Murdoch that terrified Badeaux. The miner struggled to right himself while staring in terror into the Channel’s churning depths. “There are sharks down there!”

  “And I’ll feed you to them if you don’t leave the lady alone.” Although Murdoch strained to subdue his anger, his energy escaped to whip the sails with a gust of wind. Breakers crashed against the bow, causing the ship to lurch in a sudden towering swell.

  This time it was Lissandra who laid a reassuring hand on Murdoch’s shoulder. “Judge and executioner,” she murmured. “Do you claim the right of Oracle?”

  The wind calmed as suddenly as it had risen, and the waves flattened. With disgust, Murdoch returned his adversary’s feet to the deck. “I will not have you sully her with Other World corruption.”

  “I meant nothing by it,” Badeaux protested, raising his hands in surrender. “My grief overcomes me. I apologize.”

  “Stay away from the lady. Keep to the other side of the ship,” Murdoch ordered. Gripping Lissandra’s elbow, Murdoch practically dragged her toward the cabin.

  “He is telling the truth,” she argued in a whisper. “He is destroyed by his anguish.”

  “He’s too polluted by the muddy views of Others to think as an Aelynner should. Until we have time to question—or Heal—him, stay in the cabin, where it’s safe.”

  With exasperation, Lissandra shook off his grasp. “I thank you for your concern, but you will remember that I am not a vaporous lady who cringes at the sound of raised voices.”

  “He could have cast you overboard. Do you know if you can swim like a mermaid? You’ve lived too sheltered a life to know what you can or cannot do.”

  “True, but I would not have rocked the ship with my wrath either.” Refusing to enter the cabin, she studied Murdoch’s grim expression in the moonlight. “The wind stopped without causing harm. You seem to be gaining better control. Is it deliberate?”

  He shoved his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustrat
ion that she knew and loved. With everyone else, Murdoch simply acted, and not always with thought or consideration. With her, he was forced to pull back and think. She liked having that tiny bit of influence.

  “Some of your restraint seems to be brushing off on me,” was all he could say.

  She raised her eyebrows in surprise, then, still refusing to enter the cabin, strolled around to the aft rail, admiring the stars. She glanced toward the wheel and saw that Murdoch had left one of the crew to steer the ship while the captain grabbed a nap.

  “Would you at least get some rest?” he asked gruffly, following her.

  “When you do. You must accept that I am as responsible for these people as you are.”

  Lissandra bit back a smile as Murdoch struggled with that observation. He’d always taken the weight of the world on his shoulders, believing he was the only one who could do anything the way it was meant to be done.

  “You are half my size and like a reed in the wind!” he said. “You can’t know what lies ahead or how it will test you. Give me some credit for my experience and greater strength.”

  “I do give you credit, but you must give me equal respect for my intelligence and the ability to know my limits.”

  “I’m reaching my limits now,” he growled, hauling her into the shadows outside the cabin.

  He did not give her time to respond but rubbed his scratchy jaw against her smooth cheek, then nibbled her ear while his hand aroused unspeakably pleasurable sensations in her breast.

  Lissandra gasped and arched her neck to accommodate the erotic kisses trailing down to her nape and on to the hollow of her throat. He could have taken her right there, and she would not have objected. Could not.

  “We must deal with this sometime,” he muttered, pushing her breasts up with his hands and leaning down to kiss the curves rising above her bodice. “If you must apply your sharp wit anywhere, apply it to how we can survive with this constant craving.”

  “We will stay busy. We will think of others.” She stifled another gasp as he nibbled at her nipples through her linen shift. She caught his shoulders and shoved him away.