He regretted having to lie to the couple, claiming to know the chieftain’s whereabouts, but he was desperate. He needed the powers of the warlock and the sorcerer to break the curse on Mount Suilven. Once he had Merlin’s staff, he would use it to help find the warlock’s father… that is, if Laird Callum did not kill him first.
The lone sound of horse’s hooves echoed in the early morn as he made his way across the bridge. The gate opened when he approached, and he studied the old gatekeeper in a thick overcoat.
“My laird is expecting you. Go to the top of the cobblestone road and a stable lad will help you with your steed.”
Braen nodded and urged his mount forward.
The sun had risen, but found it difficult to fight its rays through the thick snow clouds, casting a dim light upon the inhabitants of the keep. The town folk looked at him as he followed the steep road, their stares curious and suspicious. He admired the Roberts clan for their loyalty in keeping the magical aristocrats a secret. As an apprentice, he had practiced his powers in dark alleyways or behind closed gates for fear of being prosecuted as a heretic. Times were getting that you could not trust a disgruntled neighbor or friend from turning you over to the fanatical church prosecutors.
He studied the impressive keep. The outer battlement walls enclosed an array of colorful cottages along with an orchard. Next to that was a large tiltyard and square practice field. Even this early, several soldiers trained for battle, paying him little heed. Arriving at the top of the bailey, he narrowed his eyes at the small old chapel off to the side. With Celtic witches, a warlock and sorcerer in residence, he wondered how often the chapel was in use.
A skinny lad took his horse’s reins while he swung off the saddle. He placed a coin in the boy’s dirty hands. “Grant him an extra bale of hay.”
Giving him a toothy grin, the lad led his horse around the corner of a great castle.
Braen flicked the remaining snow off his cloak and surveyed the walls all the way up the top to the castle’s turrets. He had never seen a castle built on the side of a mountain before.
He pursed his lips. If he were under siege this would be the place he would want to defend.
“Greetings, Master Braen, please come in.”
His gaze swung down to the warlock’s lovely wife, Lady Alayne. She stood regally on the steps wearing an emerald velvet cloak and white gloves, her soft red hair adorned with jewels.
He bowed. “With pleasure, milady.”
Two soldiers closed the doors behind him, shutting out the cold winter morn. He strolled into the great hall with all the cockiness of a man with a plan. Then stopped in his tracks when he saw three women standing at the high table, looking at him with expectation. It was one thing to lie to an arrogant warlock, but quite another to deceive ladies. He cleared his throat and bowed.
Alayne announced, “May I introduced Master Braen Ambrosius.”
Braen bowed. “’Tis my greatest pleasure.”
“To the right is my husband’s mother, Lady Adela Roberts, and her daughter Lady Gavenia,” Alayne said.
Shifting restlessly, he glanced around the hall. Shields adorned the walls along with thick rugs, while an oversized fireplace behind the high table warmed the considerable chamber.
The mistress of the castle approached him. Her long brown hair was braided, giving her older features a youthful appeal. In a pink flowing gown, her gold-flecked eyes held his as Adela gave him her hand to kiss.
“Milady,” he said and placed a kiss on Adela’s warm hand.
“Sir, I hear you have news of my husband’s whereabouts. Pray tell me where he is,” her soft lilting voice almost broke his heart.
Gavenia, the young lass with golden hair and a wondrous bosom tightly held by her blue gown, walked forward. “Aye, tell us where my father is.”
He swallowed hard under the stare of the beautiful ladies.
After he obtained what he wanted, he would use Merlin’s staff to locate the chieftain. “I… I know where he is,” he lied smoothly. “But I will need Lairds’ Callum and Tremayne to help me.”
Just as he said their names, the warlock entered with another man closely behind him.
Adela chimed, “Ah, the lads have risen. Come, let us break our fast.” She motioned for him to sit on the lower table with the rest of the soldiers and servants.
He bowed when Callum greeted him.
Callum sat at the high table. “Allow me to introduce the husband of my sister and sorcerer, Laird Tremayne Campbell.”
The sorcerer looked familiar somehow. His raven hair and long shapely nose gave him an impression of someone. But who?
Tremayne’s dark eyes glared suspiciously at Braen. A flicker of oppression swept through him, and he wiped his hands on his breeches without anyone noticing. This did not bode well. He must remain calm. He had to convince them all, or else he would never gain the staff.
Callum called over to him. “Tell the clan what you told me.”
“He is trapped within a cursed mountain. A curse that only can be broken with the powers of a warlock, sorcerer and a wizard, such as myself.” Braen studied the mixture of emotions cross the faces.
Hope, suspicion and indecision.
The sorcerer looked at his wife and she shrugged her shoulders.
“He could be telling the truth,” Gavenia answered his silent question.
Callum asked, “How do you know my father is there?”
“I went to the oracle that lives south of the highlands. She told me…” What name did the lusty wench at the inn tell him earlier? “…Laird Phillip, aye, that’s right. Laird Phillip Roberts is held in this enchanted mountain.”
“Which mountain do you speak of?” Gavenia asked.
“Mount Suilven. I know the way and will lead the Lairds there,” he answered, hoping he sounded convincing.
“What is in it for you?” the sorcerer asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing to slits while his arms crossed.
He pondered his answer for a while before speaking. “There is a family heirloom that was stolen from me. I want it back.”
The sorcerer scoffed.
Adela questioned, “And you say you are a wizard?”
“I am the last son of Merlin.” Braen smiled inwardly when he heard their gasps. He was used to the admiration for the legendary wizard of King Arthur. If he had the staff, he too, would be a powerful wizard of legends—not just a man with a few magical tricks.
Adela placed her delicate hand on her son’s sleeve. “This is what you have been waiting for.”
“Aye, I will go,” announced the warlock.
The sorcerer raised his voice, “I do not believe this man is telling the truth.” He sneered at Braen. “And I will not go to any damn mountain.”
God’s wounds! Braen’s heart pounded more loudly. He had lost his chance.
All at once, the three ladies talked over each other, arguing with the sorcerer while the warlock placed his hands behind his head and leaned back on his chair, a smug smile on his face.
The dark sorcerer held his hand up and the women stopped talking.
He rose and his wife stood as well. Tremayne said to Gavenia, “I will not leave the castle unprotected to chase another rumor of your father’s location.”
“Our daughter will be protected. My mother and I will see to that. You must discover if the wizard speaks the truth.” She placed his hands on his cheeks and stared into his eyes. “Please.”
Finally, he kissed her gently and nodded. “I will go. But, I do not promise the safety of your brother.” The sorcerer glared at the self-satisfied warlock.
Callum went to reply when his mother rose from the table. “Do not start lads. Instead, gather your provisions. You will all leave on the hour.”
Tremayne walked around the high table and stood behind him. Braen swiveled on the bench and rose, standing head to head with the distrustful sorcerer.
“If you are deceiving us, I will not be as tender hearted as the Celtic
warlock. I will rip your arms off and shove them up your—”
“Husband,” Gavenia called from the stairway. “Come say goodbye to our daughter.”
After the sorcerer left, Braen sat back down, his stomach in knots. A serving woman placed warm bread before him, but he could not eat.
Adela sat on the bench next him, her back to the table and her soulful eyes glistening. “Do not worry about the sorcerer. He has a dark spirit, but the love of his family overpowers the evil.”
Guilt racked his conscious as he studied the gentle Celtic witch.
“If for some reason… your husband is not at Mount Suilven. I pledge to search this earth until I find him.”
She patted his cheek with a motherly hand. “I know you will.” Using hands on her thighs, she pushed up to stand. “In the process you will find what you want most, but did not realize it.”
Baffled, he stared after her departing back, her pink gown floating along the ground behind her.
Drucilla’s soft shoes slipped off her feet effortlessly as she leaned against the white walls, around the corner from her mother’s personal chamber. If her mother was in the room, she did not want the sorceress to hear her coming. Tiptoeing around the corner, she found the door wide open, and heard her mother pacing inside.
Holding her breath, she pressed against the wall outside and peeked through the door jam. The chamber was naturally dark as there were no windows or light except from the candles lining the wall. Drucilla narrowed her eyes, trying to adjust from the brightness outside.
Suddenly, the sorceress stopped at a timber stand that held a thick ancient book with Dark Magick written in gold. She clutched the book to her breasts and absently drummed her fingernails on the cover. Bending over, she placed the book in a small timber chest beneath the iron table.
“I seal this chest with the devils mark,” her mother chanted, and waved her hands over the strongbox while it glowed with an eerie gray shadow.
What is in that book?
Her mother stood before the scrying bowl, her black gown swishing around her feet, the material weaved around her arms like an affectionate pet. Tilting her head, she poured a goblet of red wine into the bowl.
“Show me what I want to see,” she said, her voice commanding.
A violet mist floated out of the bowl and over the edges of the iron table, then it cleared.
Drucilla tried to push higher on her feet but could not see the picture from where she stood. As she lowered herself, one of the bones in her knee creaked. Her heart plummeted.
Suddenly, the door swooshed open further, her mother grabbed the back of her neck and pushed her into the room.
“Do you think you can handle being a sorceress? To have the evil it takes to work black magick?” The hysterical tone of her mother’s voice sent shivers down her spine. She did not know whether the sorceress wanted her to answer or not.
She pushed her closer to the bowl where a picture of three men rode through a thick forest. Drucilla recognized the man she had originally seen in the bowl, his virile appeal sent her pulse racing as he skillfully rode his horse between two other men. She could not drag her gaze away from his proud face. With his black cloak and white tunic unlaced enough for her to see a shapely collarbone, he was devastating in every way.
A ripple of excitement washed over her body. How would it feel to have such a man make love to her?
Her mother’s whisper cut the silence, “You must kill him.”
Her skin went swiftly from hot to cold. She stepped backwards. “What?”
“You must kill them all.”
“Why?”
“These men have powers you cannot imagine. One is a sorcerer, the other a warlock, and that middle man, the one that leads them, the man you seem to be transfixed on—is a wizard.” Her mother caressed her chin smoothly, her gaze directed upwards. “They are coming for Merlin’s staff and to seize your father.”
Drucilla moved forward, and touched her mother’s arm. “Nae, you cannot allow them to take father or the staff.”
The sorceress peered with disgust at Drucilla’s hand touching her. Drucilla pulled it away as if she had been burned.
“I have other plans to attend to. You are the lady of the mountain. You must protect what is yours and kill those men.”
“I cannot kill anyone.”
The sorceress’ eyes glowed red and Drucilla stepped back. When her mother’s eyes changed color, Drucilla knew she was about to be disciplined.
The black material of her mother’s gown snaked around her throat, cutting off her air. She clutched at the garment around her neck, wishing she had not made the enchanted gown.
“You are a sorceress and have evil powers running through your body. Never tell me again that you cannot kill,” her mother snarled.
The gown released its hold on her and Drucilla gulped air into her lungs while rubbing the burn mark on her neck.
Her mother’s emotions quickly turned when she gently touched Drucilla’s hair and smiled. “Darling, you must take care of these men or they will kill you and your father.” She kissed a lock of Drucilla’s hair. “You do not want that do you?”
Drucilla shook her head. She did not know what was worse, her mother’s fury or her manipulative affection.
“Tell me what you want.”
Patting her cheek a little too hard, the sorceress answered, “If they get past the mountain’s defenses, I want you to kill them quickly and quietly before your father encounters them. After all, we would not want him disturbed.”
She lowered her eyes and nodded. “It will be done.”
“Good lass.” Placing a cold hand on Drucilla’s back, she pushed her outside the chamber and slammed the door.
Panic welled in Drucilla’s throat. How could she warn the wizard not to come to the mountain? She could not leave without dying, but she must contact him to tell him to turn back.
She needed information.
Turning, she ran down the hallway and out the double doors to the front garden. Where was he? Taking the front stairs two at a time, she raced around the side of the palace, toward the stables. Pushing open the oak doors, she found Silas in human form, using a pitchfork to move a bale of hay into the stalls. A sheen of sweat glistened off his bare muscled chest. Having discarded the long tunic, he wore only tan braies. He straightened up and dropped the pitchfork. His half-naked body incited a warm feeling throughout her, but she pushed it aside.
“If your mother catches you here—”
“I need your help,” she blurted and swallowed a lump in her throat.
He stared at her and then limped over to a bale of hay to sit. His curly russet hair fell over his forehead, and he brushed it aside. He lifted a straw to his mouth and casually opened his legs, a hand resting on his thigh. His admiring gazed roamed her body and her nipples strained against her white chemise.
“How… how did you get your limp?”
His head turned as if he did not want to discuss it. Finally, he responded, “A punishment from the sorceress.”
She stepped further into the stables. “Can you help me gain access to her personal chambers?”
“Do not be a fool. You cannot disobey the sorceress.”
“I am not afraid.”
“You should be.”
“Tell me how I can get inside the room and I will leave you alone.”
He studied her for a long time. “Did you wonder why I was forbidden to show you my male form?”
She shook her head.
“Because your mother feared you would increase your sorceress’ powers.”
“I do not understand,” she said.
“Your ultimate powers are gained from sexual energy. A sorceress can take the energy from anyone having pleasure and feed her magical powers. Whether you watch someone making love or experience it, your powers increase significantly.”
“So if my powers increase, do you think I can move through walls like my mother?”
�
�Aye. You have the blood of a sorceress. You can do anything she can do. If you know how to access it.”
Drucilla thought for the while. She had to test the theory.
“Show me,” she ordered.
“Pardon?”
“Pleasure yourself, so that I may gain powers from your energy.”
He shook his head. “Now you think I am a fool. If your mother finds…”
“She will not.”
He looked at her, his gray eyes strangely changed. It was a look Drucilla had seen when her father stared at her mother.
Slowly, he unlaced his breeches. With a lopsided smile on his handsome face, he pulled out his member.
Drucilla had never seen one before and her eyes felt as though they were going to pop out of her head. She swallowed and licked her lips; her gaze flicked up to his eyes as they bore into her face.
His hands rubbed up and down the shaft and Drucilla shuffled from foot to foot. What was she supposed to do? Her mouth went dry while her lungs demanded more air than before.
“Watch me and look for the opportunity to gather my energy.”
He closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the hay bale. His breathing increased and so did the tingling sensation between her legs. She clenched her hands and watched every muscle moving in his arm as it glided and pulled himself.
She wanted to go over and touch him, and when a purple light floated around his body like a cocoon and she unconsciously walked to Silas. Her hands raised palms outward, and the light floated toward her, filling every pore of her skin with erotic sensations.
Silas grunted loudly, pumping his shaft faster as a white fluid burst forth.
The sexual energy increased, filling her body as if she were the one experiencing his final peak. Throwing back her head, she stiffened and groaned with him. A new sense of power thrummed through her body, making her feel invincible.
By the Gods, that was amazing!
“Your eyes have changed from green to black,” he said, uneasiness lacing his tone. “Go, before your powers fade.”
Lady of the Mountain Page 4
