“The Ancestors, of course. This is the shortest way to the standing stones. I was too eager. I knew something was amiss.” He winced in pain. “I should have listened to my own words,” he said between clenched teeth.
“Yes. There are traps and villains everywhere,” she mimicked his words. She opened the pouch she wore at her waist and removed a vial. “You must have slid down on your back. The scrapes are deep.” Before she took care of his wounds she pressed her lips tenderly on his head, a kiss she was certain he would not feel. But his muscles twitched in response. She gasped in surprise at his reaction.
“I stepped onto the platform. It was fine.” He yawned. “But when I moved to the walkway the ropes gave way and I was falling through the air…” His voice trailed off and his eyelids slid closed.
She tenderly touched the rune tattoos on his back and gaped as each touch made them glow. She heard the tales of the magick runes but thought they were just that, tales. She stared at him, unable to say a word. She worked quickly, checking every scrape. His wounds dressed and bandaged, she massaged his shoulders. When she was satisfied his muscles were relaxed, she gently prodded him to roll onto his back. The scrapes on his chest told a different story. These appeared to be minor.
Kneeling beside him, she ministered those wounds as well. When she was done, she sat back on her heels, startled. “Well, Grand Master, that is as much as I can do. The rest is up to you.”
“Aye,” he said sleepily, followed by a soft snore.
She wiped the blood from the scratches on his cheek and studied him.
Full brows framed his wide-set eyes with long, thick lashes. His high cheekbones accentuated the deep hollows beneath them. His close-clipped beard outlined his full lips. His face spoke of power and ageless strength. He had a face that was easy to look at.
The wounds cleaned and bandaged, she bent over and gave him a lingering kiss on his forehead. Her head snapped up and her fingers went to her lips. They tingled as if she had eaten something spicy. She searched his face. His ashen color hadn’t changed. Panic welled in her throat. Her healing kiss always brought results.
His arm snaked around her and drew her to him. She didn’t resist when he pulled her closer and kissed her deeply. When she moved away his eyes were closed, the corners of his mouth tipped up in a smile, and his face took on a soft pink hue.
Relief flooded through her but was quickly replaced with doubt. For the first time she wondered if her healing kiss would be enough.
She prepared the camp and when she was done, sat back to rest. The smell of the wood and the snap of the fire were soothing. The dancing flames mesmerized her and drew her in deeper. The intertwined flames parted and in its midst she saw two figures following a light. She knew it was an omen but she could not tell if the sign was good or bad. A loud snap and a log fell, sending sparks flying, startling her out of her trance.
Drained. She anticipated the numbing feeling before it overcame her. She made herself as comfortable as possible—some tea and honey would renew her. Perhaps this was why she needed to be here. To make certain the Grand Master completed the ritual and returned. Well, there was nothing to do now but wait and see. She closed her eyes.
“You’re awake.”
He scanned the camp and found her sitting nearby licking her fingers. Bolts of heat pulsed through him as his eyes followed her tongue stroking each digit. He pulled his gaze from her tantalizing tongue to her face. He was greeted by her warm and genuine smile.
“I thought you would sleep until spring.” She stepped over to the fire and poured another cup.
“How long have I slept?” He glanced at the sun and judged it was midmorning.
“If the sunrise and set is to be believed, one day. How do you feel?”
Resting on the stone-strewn ground wrapped in his cloak, he stretched to work out the kinks that settled in his back. Blinking his eyes, everything came into focus. Did she say one day? He pulled himself up on his elbows.
She rushed and put a hand on his chest. “Not so quickly. Get up slowly.”
He sat up and took the offered hot drink.
“I found some supplies amongst your things. It’s fortunate you carried them with you.”
One whiff told him the liquid was laced with honey. He chuckled. “The first time I came to the Otherworld I took no provisions. Three days without food was…difficult.” He observed her over the rim of the cup. Her sluggish movements and drawn face told him she hadn’t slept well.
“I didn’t pack any honey,” he said, looking into the cup.
“No. I found a nearby hive and the bees were more than willing to share.”
“One day spent,” he said, more to himself. “We must go. We have to—”
“—be back at Avebury by tomorrow’s moonrise. I know.” She handed him something to break the fast.
He took the oatcake from her and ate hungrily. “What have you done all this time?”
“Admired the view.” She nodded at where he slept.
He followed her gaze. He lay in the middle of a pentagram with glistening gems set correctly at each point. He searched the area looking from side to side, panic spread across his face.
“Is this what you’re seeking?” She held out his pouch.
“Yes.” Relief rushed through him. He rummaged inside the leather bag. “Everything will be for naught if it’s gone,” he said.
“For naught?”
“I have to give the Ancestors this sacred mistletoe.” He held up the wrapped cloth. Hoping for a miracle, he held his breath and peeked inside. But the air rushed out of him when he saw the plant’s brown leaves. Disappointed and resigned, he replaced the package into his pouch and set it down. As he did, his eyes caught the gleam of the warding stones.
“What worried you that you set the wards?” His voice rang with concern. He had sensed no threat. Surely if he had he would have found the strength to set the wards. A cold sweat dampened his brow. Were his powers weakening? Would the Ancestors take action without hearing him out?
“A…feeling. That was all. I’ve learned to trust them. Besides, you were…vulnerable while you slept,” she spoke plainly.
“You have set wards and protected the area well for a healer.” He finished the last of the sparse meal. “A spae-woman?” He saw her with a new measure of respect.
“And what do you know of spae-women?” Her quiet voice held some measure of a challenge.
“They are skilled healers and are known for their ability to see events before they happen. On your island they are treated with a holy respect.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “I value the old ways and those trained in them.” He ran his hand down the healed marks on his chest. That explained why his wounds healed so fast. He flexed his back muscles while he shrugged into his clean tunic. “Many thanks for tending to me. You are indeed a special person.” He focused on her lips. The thought of them tender and swollen took him by surprise. The runes on his back warmed. A warning? No, the Ancestors called. He rose in one fluid motion onto somewhat unsteady feet. “And for keeping us both safe. We should move on as soon as possible.”
***
“We have to cross the gorge.” He stood on the wooden platform that anchored the bridge, fished up the rope guidelines that had supported the walkway, and inspected them.
Ellyn peered over his shoulder. “The rope isn’t worn.” She pointed to the end in his hand. “It’s been cut.”
Max threw the rope over the side. His surprise turned into white-hot anger. Were the Ancestors so displeased with him that they would put his life in jeopardy? Was Ellyn their target? He studied the healer. Her face was full of strength, shining and steadfast. Based on her reaction in the portal she knew nothing of the Otherworld. If he hadn’t held her in place who knew where she would have been taken. No, she was here by accident.
He was fortunate. If anything happened to him she could go back to Avebury to deliver the message to the people. Accident or destiny? His anger faded into
misery as understanding flashed through him—what if they would not let him return? His final test must be to get her safely to the Ancestors. So be it. He picked up the warding stones and dragged his foot through the pentagram while murmuring a silent prayer for guidance. Ellyn put together the rest of their meager belongings. He glanced up and down the gorge. “There.” He pointed to the right. “The other way across.”
“A land bridge?” Ellyn asked.
“Yes, that is the only other way to the other side.”
“I’m ready if you are.” She stood ready to leave with her staff in hand.
Max shouldered his pouch, led them back through the thicket, and down the trail.
“I gather this isn’t usually what happens,” she said.
“No.” He hesitated. “They called me to the thicket. I knew I had to go alone.”
“Is this place inhabited by anyone else? I mean, anyone other than the Ancestors? I always imagined they were the only ones in the Otherworld. I thought the voices were theirs.”
He shortened his pace to match hers. “Voices?”
“Yes. After you went through the thicket I heard something. I couldn’t make out what they said. They were hushed and rode on the gusts of wind but as I waited the wind got stronger and the voices more intense. Are you certain no one else is here?”
“Only the Ancestors. If the rope was cut, they must have cut it.” The idea of an outright attack still mystified him. He hadn’t heard any warning. On the contrary, they lured him to the cliff and all but pushed him over. Misery tore at his insides at the thought they had abandoned him.
“The rock ledge appears to be all that prevented you from falling to the bottom of the gorge,” Ellyn said.
If it hadn’t been for that ledge…well, he didn’t want to think what would have happened. What he did think about was fighting for what he wanted—not just to live another day but to continue to lead his people. He trudged on with Ellyn, determined to make his case before the Ancestors.
After several hours, they arrived at the edge of the forest. “We’ll stop here for a while.”
She looked up at the sun to get her bearings. “It’s not quite midday.”
“Yes, but the rest of the way is a steep downhill climb. We won’t be able to move as fast.”
“It’s just as well we stop. I want to remove the bandages and make certain the wounds have not putrefied. You’ll need to take off your tunic.” She took out the vials and bandages from her pouch.
Max stood two arm-lengths in front of her and removed his garment.
She couldn’t look away from him. His appearance was deceptive. He wasn’t a warrior’s size—she had tended many of them with their broad, barrel-like chests. This man was tall and trim. His torso appeared defined, lean, and sinewy. His muscled arms looked powerful and she craved to have them around her. They could keep her safe forever. Her desire for his touch was painfully deep. She forced herself to turn away. This was not like her. Was it this place? Did it strip her bare of all pretense to show her who she really was? Was this the reason for being here?
“Your wounds appear well healed.” She stared into his eyes and something sensuous passed between them.
“Perhaps you should take a closer look. To make certain.” His voice sounded like velvet.
His soft voice teased her. They played a dangerous game, one she should not play. She imagined his arms around her, his lips on hers, and heat flashed through her. Dazed by the depth of the sensation, her resolved began to falter. Perhaps just a little pleasure, something to remember. After all, he would return to Avebury soon.
She closed the gap between them and ran her hand over his healed scars. Each gentle touch made her fingers tingle. She did not pull her hand away. The air around them was charged and alive. She laid her palm on his chest and flinched at his quick intake of breath. So, he sensed it too.
“The scratches are healed. You can hardly see where they were.” Her voice was a whisper.
“Yes, I know.” He brushed her long hair away from her face and held her head in the cup of his hand. “You are an extraordinary healer.”
Reluctantly, she stepped away and broke the spell they had cast. Coward, she said to herself. Keeping your heart safe will not save you from your destiny. With shaking hands she put the vials back into her pouch and picked up her staff.
“Here, you can put this back on.” She handed him his tunic but it appeared his attention was elsewhere. The garment fell to the ground, forgotten. She followed his gaze as he looked around them.
“Max?”
He raised his fingers to his lips. She got his silent signal—quiet.
A rumbling in the woods caught Ellyn’s attention. Instinct took over—she focused on one direction and opened her mind. The breeze stopped. The soft sounds around them went silent. There! She turned to Max and attempted to move but she couldn’t. Panic consumed her. She tried again but she was chained to the spot. There! She fought to call to him but no sound came out of her mouth. The Grand Master, his back to her, concentrated on the wrong direction. Determined, she jabbed her staff to the ground in protest and demanded the elements answer her. Obedience was immediate. The barrier that held her shattered in a shower of fine crystal. She raced forward and reached him in time to shove him out of the path of an attacking boar.
The boar turned for another attack. They both grabbed her staff. In a burst of light, the startled boar stood still. She let go and gave Max the staff. The boar faced them pawing the ground. It shook its head, the foot-long, curved-bone tusks glistening in the light.
Max sidestepped to the right to get some distance between himself and Ellyn. The boar swiveled its head from Max to Ellyn as if trying to make up its mind who to attack. The boar sniffed the air and approached Ellyn.
Ellyn didn’t move. She kept her eyes on the animal and worked hard to stay calm. Max stamped the staff on the ground and bellowed his war cry. The boar stopped. Its muscles quivering with tension, it turned and charged at Max, forcing him toward the large boulders by the cliff.
The crack of her staff and the squeals and grunts from the boar went on as Max successfully kept the boar at bay. Little by little, Max moved the boar farther away from Ellyn and closer to the cliff.
Facing each other, the boar pawed the ground and bellowed in frustration. Finally, it charged at Max.
Max stood still and waited. The boar came closer. The ground rumbled as the animal gained speed. Max held his position. When the beast was an arm’s length from Max he stepped to the side. The animal flew at him and careened over the cliff.
Ellyn ran to Max. They stood and gaped as the animal tumbled through the air and dissolved into nothing. It never hit the ground.
She stared in disbelief at the empty space where the animal plunged. She looked back at the Grand Master. His bruised and bloodied body indicated a different story. She didn’t ask questions. It appeared the Otherworld had its own rules.
“Sit here.” She once again prepared to help him.
“The scrapes are nothing.” He sat on a rock as she requested. “The animal wasn’t real.” He pointed out to the gorge.
“The animal may not have been real but your bruises and scrapes are. I didn’t see the animal strike you. I don’t know how you got these wounds.”
“The Ancestors are playing with us,” he muttered.
Ellyn leveled her gaze and gave him a serious look.
“Perhaps they want you to give me another healing kiss?” His smile was mischievous. “I may ask them for more challenges.”
Her hand trembled when she reached out to swab the wounds. He grabbed it. “I was only making jest. To break the tension. I meant no disrespect.”
“I know. We are both tired.” She kept at her work.
“Your staff…”
“Yes, what about my staff?” She continued to dab at the scrapes on his chest.
“It glowed when we both held it.”
She stopped her ministrations, her ha
nd in midair. “It’s only glowed once before. When I first touched it. My father believed it recognized me.” She kept working her way across his chest and down his forearm. “The staff is ancient. Its secret has been lost over time. I thought it only glowed for its owner. Perhaps it wants to belong to you.”
She traced her finger over each wound. Every touch warmed her in the most personal places, followed by delightful shivers of desire. She tamped down her feelings. The Ancestors had a sense of humor. How could she find someone now when she was dying? He was a bit crusty on the outside but she knew there was a softer, kinder side to him. Somehow her destiny was caught up in his. Are the Ancestors testing my healing to see if it is worthy? Perhaps they need proof that it is strong before they take it back and give it to another. I won’t let them have it until Max is safe.
If it was the last thing she did, she would protect him. He had to carry the message back. The people depended on him.
She cleaned the last wound. Gently she caressed his head in her hands and placed a healing kiss on his forehead. “For the Ancestors.”
Max slowly stood. Tenderly he tilted up her chin and kissed her forehead. “For the Ancestors.”
His breath bathed her cheek and she closed her eyes.
He kissed each eye before he planted a searing kiss on her lips. He took her in his arms. “This attack was too close. You’re in too much danger.”
“It was you who was bruised and scraped.”
She rested her head on his chest and enjoyed his strong, steady heartbeat.
He tormented her with his kisses, built a heat in her that was both frightening and delightful. She wanted him to touch her in the most inappropriate places and from his actions believed he did too. But she couldn’t entertain those feelings. How could she encourage him when she knew he had no future with her? No, she had to keep him away. The thought stabbed her deeply but she knew she was right. Time with him was too short but it would have to last her a lifetime. Her energy seeped away more each day. If she didn’t get to the Ancestors soon she feared there would be nothing remaining of her for them to see.
Druid Knights 1.5: The Druid Knight Tales Page 3
