by Ann Lawrence
“That is why I cannot delay any longer.”
Lien had seen enough movies to know that the best way out of this kind of situation was to keep her talking and hope for the cavalry to arrive. “So how do you train a baby goddess?”
“I believe you are uncomfortable.” She set her hand on his wrist. Pain radiated from her palm. “I shall see what I may find for your relief. A goddess is a healer, you know.”
“No, I didn’t. I just thought you hung out and looked good. Where I’m from, a goddess is just a beautiful woman. Nothing more.”
“Here a goddess is worshiped. Honored. She need not be beautiful. Such empty reverence insults me.”
“So what does a goddess do specifically?” He worked his wrists in the shackles, but found no way to slip out of the metal bands. His efforts drew the attention of Frack, who placed a boot on a loop of the chain, dragging Lien’s arm straight down at his side.
Cidre made languid circles on the inside of Lien’s thigh with her fingertip. “What would you like? Power? Wealth? All may be yours through me.”
“Pilgrims aren’t too interested in power and wealth.”
She shrugged. “You soon will be. Now I must go. My guests must wonder what has become of me. But know that I will have you. I knew the moment I touched your hand that you would be mine. You reek of power, leashed power. And I intend to release it. I shall be back, and these kind men will take you to a comfortable place where we may indulge our desires.”
After the goddess walked off into the foliage, Frick and Frack unlocked his chains and half dragged, half carried him along a path deep into the Tangled Wood.
Ralen opened his chamber door to find Einalem in his bed. He tossed the blanket covering her onto the floor. “Come, wake up.”
She rolled over and smiled. “I would prefer to return to my dream. In it, you were making love to me…along with several of your men. All as well endowed as you.”
He tried to concentrate on what he needed to say. His throat was parched from the wine, but he saw no water in the chamber. “I would love to join you, but Ardra has discovered that Lien is missing.”
“Lien? Missing?” Alarm filled her face.
“So, I am right. You would like Lien for yourself. Well, help in the search, or it will be Cidre who gets him.”
“How can I help?” She slipped out of bed, but for once, her nakedness did little to arouse him. It was always so; once he knew a woman’s ways, he lost interest in her.
“I found a slave who saw one of Cidre’s guards hit Lien over the head with a club of some sort,” he said as Einalem threw on a turquoise and ivory gown. When she turned her back that he might lace it, he tersely reminded her he had but one functioning hand.
She made a dismissive gesture and did the best she could alone; her words tumbled from her lips in agitation, “Cidre and Lien? I cannot believe it.”
“Could you question a few of Cidre’s men? I think they might offer more information to someone like you,” he cupped her breast, “than someone like me.”
Lien sat on a soft bed in a small, one-room, thatched cottage. The cottage was bare except for the bed and an open fire pit in the center of the room. A cauldron bubbled over it.
The bed was neatly draped with linens stitched in a pattern of tangled leaves and vines. A thick white fur was folded at the foot. There was no pillow.
Frick and Frack had dragged him to the bed and locked his chains to an iron ring on the wall so he was forced to sit on the edge. They had left him alone for the rest of the night, then returned to check his chains before stepping aside for Cidre,
She gave him a smile and opened the shutters to let in air and the coppery glow of sunlight.
Lien’s tongue felt thick in his throat. He didn’t fear the potion; she couldn’t make him eat or drink, but he feared the writhing, cramping pains that ran up his arms and across his back.
The goddess went to the cauldron. Smoke twisted up in a column through a smoke hole in the peaked roof.
“Making a witch’s brew?” he asked.
“A simple soup, Lien,” Cidre said. She stirred the contents with a long, smooth stick. The cauldron was etched with figures that danced in a naked chain, covered only by flowering vines.
“Look, you’re just making trouble for yourself. Venrali will be pissed, and Samoht and Ralen will bring their warriors here and tear this cottage down around you.”
Lien’s hands were stiff, but not from being shackled. They were locked in a rictus of pain caused by the rash that tormented his body. The agony had ebbed when Cidre left but had now redoubled. He could no more fight her guards or run away than if she’d broken his arms and legs. Each movement of his body was agony, the pain and cramps escalating each time Cidre wandered near to stroke his body. And she wandered near often.
“The men will not miss you. The women—well, they might,” she said, tasting whatever she was cooking up.
“What women?” He didn’t like the way she said “the women”. Was Ardra in danger? And who else was Cidre referring to? Einalem?
She trilled a laugh that sent waves of pain up his neck into his head. “Ardra. Einalem. But they will not have you.”
“Fine with me.” He groaned and leaned forward. Nausea crowded his throat. “The one’s a cold stick, the other a scheming bitch.”
“You do not desire Einalem? Or Ardra?”
There was an emphasis on Ardra’s name that tormented him worse than any bodily pain. Then Cidre was next to him. She ran her hands over his bowed head and lifted his face to her. “You will drink my potion and be filled with—”
“Desire for you,” he managed in a low tone. “I already desire you.” Would she believe him and leave Ardra alone?
“Nay. Knowledge. All knowledge. All knowledge from the past, the present, and the future. Only the ill-informed think the Vial of Seduction holds a love potion. What simpletons you all are. I have persuasion charms to bring about love. Nay, I want you worthy of being called Consort to the Goddess of Darkness.”
“You can’t make me eat or drink anything,” he said through clenched teeth. He suddenly understood why the vial had been locked up in the Tolemac vaults.
“Nay, and I shall not try. You will receive the blessings of the potion through another. When the cup is offered, you will drink. You will be so thirsty, you will not resist.” Lien was grateful he knew about Ywri. If not, he might have taken something from her. Involuntarily, he shuddered.
Cidre ran her hands over his hips, her nails scratching at his skin. “Our child will be filled with the black depths I see in your eyes.” Her breasts grazed his chest when she touched her lips to his eyelids, first one, then the other, slowly drawing her tongue across his eyelashes.
He buried a scream that threatened to erupt from his lips as each sweep of her tongue burned like a live electric wire on his skin.
“You are mine, Lien. Mine.” She licked her finger and put it on his wrist, then drew it up the inside of his arm to his tattoo. She gasped and jumped away from him, her hand to her mouth. “Fiend,” she whispered, eyes wide.
He forced a smile. “Seems my snake doesn’t like you.”
“It is a warrior’s mark. It centers your male vigor.”
“Just don’t touch it.”
She sucked her fingertip like a small child. “A man’s strength is not just in his manhood.” She kissed his lips.
“More,” he whispered. He must convince her that she had nothing to fear from Ardra.
She smiled. “So you are just like any other man, are you not? And you will be ready here,” she gripped his sex, “when I am.”
He wanted to vomit.
“Let’s do it now,” he managed to say through clenched teeth.
Cidre laughed. “Not yet. But we can sample the pleasures if you wish.” She slipped her robe off and dropped it beside his feet. She planted her hands on his thighs. Her breath was warm when she pressed her lips on his.
His muscles locked in c
ramps, but he forced himself to put his arm around her neck. He held her hard against him in feigned desire. Pain radiated in excruciating waves from every point their bodies touched. The idea of Ardra being in danger from this woman gave him focus. He tightened his arm around her throat and bit her lip; the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
She screamed and tried to break away. He locked his hand over her wrist and pictured Ardra.
Frick and Frack barged into the cottage and tossed Cidre aside to get to him.
“Nay!” she screamed. “Do not harm him.”
Her men stepped instantly back. “He would have killed you,” Frack said.
But Cidre waved them back after shrugging into her robe. “‘Twas my foolishness to approach so closely. My stupidity. He did what all warriors are trained to do.”
“He tried to strangle you,” Frack persisted, and set himself between her and the bed.
Lien dragged air into his lungs. He tried to stretch out the knots in his arms and legs. When his chains rattled, Cidre stepped past her guard. “Warriors kill. Now go.”
The men left the cottage, but Lien imagined they weren’t far from the door. Cidre rubbed her throat. “You might have killed me, but you would have bled to death on these sheets soon after.”
He said nothing because he couldn’t speak. The pain had stepped up with her anger; his body was crippled with it.
She smiled and smoothed a hand over his hair. “We will have a mating ceremony, Lien. You cannot prevent it. You will be filled with all knowledge, and I with your seed. I will have my daughter. Why fight it?” She released him. “Oh, and there will be no women of status in attendance…they will be…gone by then.”
Einalem closed her eyes and conjured up Lien’s face as one of Cidre’s guards grunted over her. He took an inordinate length of time to finish, so she hurried him a bit with feigned moans.
Finally he found his pleasure and climbed off her. She sat up and smoothed her skirt down. “Is our bargain met?” she asked.
“With wondrous joy, mistress.” The guard laced his breeches and held out his hand.
Einalem took it and smiled. “You have had what you wanted, now I shall have what I want.”
He helped her off the bed and with a touch of shyness held out her cloak to her. “With pleasure, mistress. I will sketch you a map. ‘Tis not far.”
Ardra prayed that Tol would forgive her for the disrespect to his memory as she braided her hair into one thick plait down her back.
She shook out the groom’s garb that Inund had brought. “Turn around.” While the slave did as bade, she switched her gown and soft undergarments for those of a stable groom. The boy was slender, and the clothing, a linen shirt and well-worn breeches, fit her well. She cinched the belt at her waist and drew on her own riding boots.
Last, she stuffed everything she might need into Lien’s pack—a long, sharp dagger purloined from Ralen’s saddlebags, several lengths of rope to bind any of Cidre’s men who could be bested, and bandages and healing powder for wounds.
When she met Ralen in the stable, she ignored his frown over her garb. Then Einalem and Samoht came around the side of the building.
“What are they doing here?” Ardra asked, rounding on Ralen.
He touched his sling. “I am useless to you right now. And it is Einalem who knows where Lien was taken.”
“We waste time. If we are to release this nuisance pilgrim, we must be about it now,” Samoht said. He eyed Ardra from head to toe before bending close to her ear, his lips hot against her skin. “I will much enjoy stripping these breeches off you and teaching you proper womanly behavior.” Samoht grinned before he stalked off, his sister in his wake.
Einalem led them into the woods. Every now and then she consulted a scrap of paper she kept tucked in the bodice of her gown. After a few miles she held up a hand for quiet. They tethered their horses and proceeded the rest of the way on foot. They moved with silent caution until they reached a small clearing. A woodcutter’s cottage sat there, smoke writhing from its smoke hole.
“Einalem and I shall distract the guards at the front, while you go in the back window,” Samoht said.
Ardra obeyed Samoht’s orders, for they must cooperate if they were to save Lien, but she knew they were only on this mission because Einalem wanted Lien for herself. Jealousy spiked through Ardra when Einalem stepped daintily through the undergrowth and around the side of the cottage.
When given the signal, Ardra darted across the clearing to the back window, whose shutter stood half open. With a quick peek over the sill, she took in the room at a glance.
Lien lay on the bed. He was alone.
Heart in her throat, she signaled that only Lien was inside. Einalem and Samoht would handle the guards. She would take care of Lien. In a moment, she had slithered over the windowsill like one of the snakes that had attacked the dragons.
She had her hand over Lien’s mouth before he could give away her presence. His face was strangely blank of expression, his eyes wide, but his lips moved in a whisper of a kiss on her palm.
“Who has the key to your shackles?” she whispered.
His eyes went to the door.
“The guards?”
He shook his head, though ‘twas more a convulsive shudder. His eyes went to the door again, but then up.
She tiptoed to the door. Samoht’s voice could be heard asking the guards if they had seen Cidre.
She ran her fingers along the door’s lintel and felt the key. It fit easily into Lien’s shackles. Within moments, he was free.
But he couldn’t move. She tried in vain to help him rise. Samoht must dispose of the guards and soon. She massaged Lien’s wrists and he half gasped as the ugly rash began to fade. Along with it went his pain. She saw the relief on his face. “Oh, Lien,” she whispered, and kissed him.
His mouth was hot on hers. She ran her hands over him, his shoulders, chest, hips, thighs. Tears pricked her eyes.
He was found. Ywri had not yet given him the potion.
A commotion at the door made Lien freeze against her. She looked around and saw Lien’s clothing in the corner. “Dress,” she said, and drew her dagger.
Lien shook his head in wonder over Ardra, who stood with her knife ready to defend him. He quickly pulled on his pants, stuffing the Tree of Valor leaf down the front before lacing them up.
He had his tunic in his hand when the door opened. It was Frick and Frack.
“Out,” Frick ordered Ardra. His drawn sword touched her throat. She did as he ordered.
Samoht and Einalem stood outside. There was a wide grin on Samoht’s face. “Cidre’s men and I have made a bargain, Ardra. You do much enjoy a bargain, do you not? This one may not please you, but,” he touched Einalem on the cheek, “it will please my sister.”
“Lien, you are to come with me,” Einalem said. “I will see that you are protected from the goddess.” She walked to Lien and curtseyed to him as if he were a warrior in truth. “You must be famished.”
“And thirsty,” Samoht said. “Ardra, you will come with me. I have decided not to take you up on your offer, for you see, I have decided that finding you here in this lonely cottage with a half-naked slave means you are irredeemably wanton, and not worthy of rule. These kind guards will witness that they saw this pilgrim mounted between your thighs.” He tossed a purse of coins to each guard. “Would you like to double that?” he asked the men.
“Aye,” Frick and Frack said in unison, and Lien felt a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked around for a weapon.
“Cut that vile serpent off even if it means cutting off his arm,” Samoht said and pointed at Lien.
“Nay!” Einalem gasped.
Ardra fought against Samoht, but he held her in an iron grip. “He will be just as useful, dear Sister, and less trouble.”
“Nay,” Einalem cried out. Frack drew his sword. As he turned to Lien, Einalem tore across the clearing.
The guard swept out his blade
, and Einalem ran full into it. Blood bloomed in a scarlet line across her middle. She stood still, hands wide, and stared at the soldier.
Samoht moaned and shoved Ardra away. As Einalem crumpled to the ground, he ran to her, but Lien knew Samoht was too late.
Lien felt Einalem’s throat for a pulse, but her staring eyes and the flood of blood across her hands told him all he needed to know.
“Go,” he ordered Ardra, jerking her to her feet.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Nay,” Ardra said. “Not without you.”
“I want you out of here. Now,” Lien said. “This could get ugly. Now go.”
Samoht roared with anger. He tore his sword from its scabbard and turned on the guard. “Murderer.”
“Too late.” Lien stepped in front of Ardra, unarmed.
“It was an accident,” Frick began, but Frack interrupted him.
“It was the goddess’s will. She wants these two women dead, and no one stands in her way.”
Samoht shook his head. He swung his sword in a terrible arc and with the one powerful stroke sliced the guard from shoulder to waist. The man fell to his knees, then back, dead, his eyes as wide as Einalem’s.
“Mercy,” Frick said and held his hands out.
Samoht stood before the cowering guard, his sword raised.
Lien took Samoht’s arm. “Don’t kill him, Samoht. It will gain you nothing.”
The councilor stood frozen in place, then sagged and lowered his sword. Lien took it, walked to the guard, and held out his hand. “I’ll feel a whole lot safer if I take yours as well.”
To Ardra’s complete astonishment, the guard turned over his sword. What was it about Lien that caused strangers to obey him?
Lien strode across the clearing and disappeared for a moment into the trees. When he returned, he was empty-handed.
“I’ll help Samoht bring Einalem back,” he said. “This guard here will show us the way if he wants to live.” Then he leaned close to her ear, his hand on her shoulder. “You have to avoid Cidre. I know she wants you dead. Sneak in through the kitchen and have Inund fetch Nilrem. He may have a calming influence on Samoht. And have him bring my stick. I have a feeling I’m going to need it.”
