The Moon Witch

by Linda Winstead Jones

  The camp came alive slowly, as sleep-deprived soldiers ate and cared for the horses and moved beyond a large boulder to empty their bladders. She’d soon need to take care of such business herself, but she did not look forward to seeing to the matter while trying to maintain some semblance of privacy. Bors insisted that at least one guard keep an eye on the women at all times. Most of them were gentlemen who would turn their heads, at least for a few moments. Others were not gentlemen at all.

  Juliet watched a soldier round the rock. A few minutes later, another man followed. Then another. All was quiet. She heard no banter, no laughter, as was usual. None of the soldiers returned. Usually they did their business quickly and returned immediately to their posts or their duties.

  Juliet concentrated on the rock, hoping for a flash of knowing like the one she’d experienced last night with the watcher, or on that night when she’d realized too late that men were coming, but she felt nothing out of the ordinary. If only she could touch that rock, just for one moment, she might be able to have a sense of what was happening beyond.

  But she experienced no sense of knowing, and she was too far away to touch the rock. Moving in that direction would only raise suspicions. How could she tap into that rock and the men beyond without alerting the other soldiers to the fact that something might be wrong?

  Last night the watcher, if he had indeed been real and not a dream or a fantasy, had told her she was connected to the earth with rivers of knowing. She had never thought of her gift in that way, but it did make some sense. Instinct directed her to place her palm upon the ground. If she could link her mind to another’s from such a distance, even for a few minutes, perhaps she could reach for the men on the other side of that boulder. It wouldn’t hurt to try.

  Palm pressed into dirt and small pebbles, she imagined that a river flowed through the ground. That river traveled swiftly from her hand to the boulder and farther. For a moment there was nothing. No connection, no flash of knowledge. She was too far away, and even concentrating so hard that a sharp headache began to take shape at the back of her neck brought no answers.

  And then a jolt of enlightenment shot through her. Her body jerked slightly, but she did not lift her hand from the ground. The men on the other side of the rock were unconscious. All but one. One who was not a soldier, one who did not serve Bors. She did not know whence their rescue came, or if indeed it was rescue. But the man behind the boulder was not a friend to Bors and the soldiers.

  Juliet lifted her hooded cape and draped it over her shoulders, fastening the top button while she scooted closer to Isadora. “You look cold,” she said for the benefit of any who might be listening. She lifted Isadora’s cape and placed it over the obstinate woman’s shoulders.

  “I am not cold,” Isadora snapped. “And even if I were—”

  “Something’s happening,” Juliet whispered. No one was watching them closely. They did receive a casual glance now and then, as she worked the braided fastening at Isadora’s throat, but nothing she did raised the soldiers’ suspicions.

  Isadora became very still. “Juliet, what’s wrong?” she whispered.

  “I’m not sure.” Juliet reached around her sister, keeping her hand hidden in the folds of the cloak as she fumbled with the rope that bound Isadora’s wrists. Just because the man behind the boulder was an enemy of the soldiers did not mean that he was their friend. Isadora would need her hands to fight, and they might yet need to do so. The rope was tightly snarled, but Juliet was able to loosen the knot. When that was done, she grabbed a loop and slowly pulled it from the tangled twine. Isadora was not yet free, but she was almost there...

  “Where’s Evyn?” The soldier who had earlier tossed Juliet bread glanced about the campsite. “And Orn?” He took a step toward the boulder. “If those slackers have wandered off to the pond to—”

  He never got the chance to finish his sentence. A blur of golden hair and bronzed flesh leaped from the rock and seized him; a large hand carried something green to the soldier’s nose. He dropped to the ground, inert like the men on the other side of the boulder. The assailant turned his eyes to Juliet, and for a moment she could not breathe. Her heart pounded so hard she could feel it thudding against her chest.

  The man who had rendered the soldiers unconscious was very large, larger than any man she had ever seen. His hair was longer than her own, and it hung in a tangle of golden blond over his shoulders and down his back and across a portion of his face. He wore nothing but a kilt of animal skin that covered his privates and not much more. Even though the morning was chilly, there was no sign of the cold air on his skin. The sun-kissed flesh that stretched over hard muscle was free of goose bumps, and in fact seemed to radiate heat. She could almost feel that heat on her own skin, even though he stood several feet away.

  Surprised soldiers reached for their weapons, Isadora struggled with the ropes at her wrists, and the intruder moved. Toward Juliet. He advanced smoothly and with incredible strength, leaping to her in an instant and lifting her from the ground with ease, tossing her over his shoulder as if she weighed no more than a sack of flour.

  A brave soldier with his sword drawn moved threateningly toward the large man who held Juliet. The intruder moved, leaping away from the swords that swung in his direction, holding on to his captive and protecting her from the blades that swung so wildly. He ran quickly, making his escape with Juliet perched precariously on his broad, bare shoulder.

  Perhaps he was not a man at all, she thought in a panic, but a creature who only assumed the shape of a man. Her body was jostled unmercifully, her breath stolen by the way she bounced across a hard shoulder as her captor ran. She struggled with the fabric from her cape, doing her best to push it from her face so she could see what was happening.

  Free of the gray fabric that had shielded her eyes, Juliet lifted her head to look back at the camp. They were already so far away! Impossibly far away. Surely a mere man could not run so fast, especially not while carrying a heavy burden — the weight of another person. She could still see the activities of the frenetic camp, even though she was a fair distance away. Some soldiers scrambled to saddle the horses and give chase, while others foolishly continued to pursue the kidnapper on foot.

  Behind Juliet, too far behind, Isadora shook off her bonds and leapt to her feet. One soldier was close enough to notice that the prisoner was loose, but he did not notice soon enough. Isadora reached out and slapped her hand to his forehead. Juliet could not hear the words that were spoken, but she saw Isadora’s mouth move. The soldier dropped and Isadora ran. Not toward Juliet, but away. The kidnapper carried Juliet north; Isadora ran south.

  “Isadora!” Juliet screamed. The name echoed, hollow and mournful.

  The man who had grabbed her turned sharply into an outcropping of gray rocks that slanted upward. He climbed the craggy hill, moving quickly and easily as if the load he carried weighed nothing at all. No horse could follow them here. Juliet had a feeling that even on foot the soldiers would have no chance. In a matter of minutes her situation had changed, but she did not feel it was any less dire.

  She had gone from being the emperor’s prisoner to being kidnapped by a barely dressed wild creature who had the strength to carry her without discernible effort. Was she better off? Or worse? The way the kidnapper carried Juliet made her head swim and ache. “Stop,” she commanded breathlessly.

  He did not respond, not with a word or a falter in his step. Bare feet gripped the rock as if he had climbed these very stones a thousand times.

  “We must go back for my sister. She ran in the other direction.” A leap made her head jerk and wobble, and in a purely instinctive move she wrapped her hands around the man’s neck and held on. He was overly warm, considering his state of dress. Or undress. Was he ill? Feverish and crazed? “Please,” she added.

  Still, the creature did not respond. Was he deaf? Did he not hear her pleas? Or did he simply not care? She laid the palm of one hand on his bare neck, and for no
more than a split second she had a sensation of a deep abiding warmth and power. She saw a cave of gray stone and a serene pond. Nothing more. Not a tremor, not a whisper.

  Not for the first time, Juliet’s abilities failed her. Her glimpse into the man who’d snatched her away from the soldiers did her no good at all. She wanted to know where this creature was taking her, if he planned to harm her, if he was a rescuer or a kidnapper. No matter how she tried, she saw only vague glimpses of the past. There was no hint as to what the future held for her, or for the man who had taken her from the emperor’s soldiers. And then, with an abruptness that startled her, she felt nothing at all from her kidnapper. Nothing! She closed her eyes and concentrated, but nothing happened.

  He was blocking her.

  How had he mistaken the other witch—the one called Sophie—for her? Days before her arrival, Ryn had realized with every shred of his body and his soul that this woman was his and that she was coming to him. His heart had beat differently as she approached, and her scent had invaded his nose and his lungs until he could think of nothing else.

  The red-haired woman had a gift which the other witch had not possessed. She could see pieces of his spirit and his mind. She had even reached into his thoughts last night and asked, Why do you follow? He had answered, as best he could, but now, as he carried her away from the soldiers, he did not wish the joining of minds. He had shut down the link between them, and it would remain deadened until the proper time. A man’s thoughts were private and not to be shared with abandon. Not even with her. He had never expected his woman to have such a gift, even though he knew her to be a witch.

  The woman...the witch...she was called Juliet. While he’d been watching, he’d heard the darker one call her by that name. At least he now had a name to put to his wife, as well as a face other than the vague visage of his dreams.

  He was pleased that Juliet was pretty, though in truth her beauty did not matter overmuch. It was more important that she be brave in mind and body, that she bear him strong sons and embrace the way of the Anwyn and become a proper and competent mate.

  As they climbed to a place on the rocky hillside where the soldiers could not follow, she continued to insist that he put her down. He did not. He wanted to put more distance between them and the soldiers before he stopped, and there was a long way to travel before they reached the place he had chosen to camp for the night. The soldiers would not follow far into the hills. The path was harsh and steep and there were too many twists and turns. The soldiers would try but they would turn back soon, if they had not already done so.

  Before darkness fell, he could be assured that he and his wife would not be disturbed.

  Juliet eventually quit asking the creature who had abducted her to turn back or to put her down. Maybe he really was deaf, or else he spoke a language other than the Emperor’s Columbyanan. Or he really was crazed. Time and time again she placed her hands on his neck and reached for answers...and got none. There had been many times in her life when she’d wished not to see into others with a touch, and now, when she wished to see, her gift failed her.

  She did not even dare to imagine that the soldiers might’ve followed them this far. The large man ran upon steep ground no human should be able to walk upon, much less race across. The horses could not possibly handle such a terrain, and neither could foot soldiers.

  Since she could not see into the captor who carried her to gain a clue as to what might wait ahead, Juliet closed her eyes and concentrated on Isadora. There were no mountains to the south of the road they had been traveling upon, just those gentle hills. The soldiers could have very easily followed Isadora in that direction. Why had she run away from Juliet and not toward her? They should be together now, not separated.

  Juliet had always had Isadora and Sophie; she’d never been alone. They were sisters who had planned to be a part of one another’s lives forever. Now they were separated by distance and anger and betrayal. She’d never even imagined that she might find herself in such a situation.

  No matter how she tried, she couldn’t see where her sister was, or if the soldiers had caught up with her, or if she was in immediate danger. As her captor carried her ever upward, she tried to reach out to her sister. Juliet focused her mind on Isadora until she was exhausted from the effort and her head was aching. And still, all she could be certain of was that Isadora was alive. For now, that would have to be enough.

  For a while Juliet remained compliant. There was even a moment when she almost dozed off, incredibly. Her attempt to reach Isadora had exhausted her, and she hadn’t been sleeping much of late. The nightmare had plagued her, even as she’d slept in snatches on the hard, cold ground.

  Now she needed to pee. The creature who carried her had refused to listen to her other pleas. He hadn’t even slowed down as she’d all but begged him to stop. Why should this be any different? Like it or not, she had to try.

  “We need to stop for a few moments so that I might attend to personal needs,” she said primly.

  Did she imagine it, or did the large man grunt?

  “I realize there are no proper facilities anywhere near.” She lifted her head and looked down the rocky terrain they’d just covered. Her head spun and she closed her eyes tightly against the light-headedness that assaulted her. No, she would not find so much as a chamber pot here, much less a proper lavatory facility or an outhouse. “But if I could just have a few moments alone behind a boulder, or if you would simply turn your back like a gentleman...”

  Unexpectedly, her kidnapper stopped and all but whipped Juliet around and onto her feet. She gripped his massive arms as she regained her balance, and a long strand of red hair whipped across her face. It almost seemed that he made an effort to steady her as she shook the hair out of her face and glanced around. They had reached a narrow plateau of sorts.

  He had stopped finally. Maybe the cretin did understand at least some of what she’d said. “I need to...to...” Oh, this was so embarrassing!

  “Piss,” he finished for her.

  She would have been mortified, if she hadn’t had more immediate concerns at the moment “Yes.”

  He shook his head, sending golden tangles swaying. “It will do no good for you to leave signs to tell the soldiers in which direction we travel. They are far behind us. They will never reach this place.” His voice was deep and velvety, matching the large body. She got her first good look at his face, which was as hard and smooth as the granite he ran across so effortlessly. She did try very hard not to look anywhere else, since all he wore was that slip of an animal skin that barely covered his hips and upper thighs. A bulging pouch made from a similar skin hung from his waist A knife in a leather sheath also hung there, untouched and yet still threatening.

  There had been moments when she’d considered her kidnapper more creature than man, but looking into his face...he was definitely a man.

  “You speak,” she said.

  “Of course I speak.”

  “Then why did you ignore me all morning?” she snapped, her face tilted back to look up into that harsh face and the golden eyes that sparkled there.

  “If you do not need to piss, we will continue. We have yet a long way to travel today.” He reached for her, but Juliet stepped back and away. Since the plateau was narrow and she was still dizzy, she placed a hand against the rock wall behind her for balance.

  “No. I...do. Need to, that is.” She searched for some shelter, and found it in a large rock that sat behind her.

  “If you run, I will catch you,” he said as she eased herself in that direction.

  “I have no doubt,” Juliet muttered as she stepped well behind the boulder.

  When she was finished with her personal business, the crude man actually had the gall to walk around the rock and examine the area. Juliet walked away from him, head high. Even Bors and his soldiers had not been so ill-mannered.

  She did her best to ignore the impudence of the wild man and glanced up, which was the direction i
n which they’d been traveling. All she could see was jagged rock that went almost straight up. Where was he taking her?

  He came around the boulder with a small smile on his face. “You are better behaved than your sister,” he said.

  “Is that why you kidnapped me instead of her?” she asked sharply. “Are you afraid of Isadora?”

  For a moment he looked almost confused, and then he nodded. “Not the dark sister, the fair one. Sophie.”

  Juliet took a step toward the big man, her fears about the journey ahead dismissed for the moment. “You’ve seen Sophie?”

  “Four full moons ago.”

  “She was well when you saw her?” She had such a sense of peace when she thought of her younger sister, and she trusted her instincts where family was concerned. The soldier’s tales of exploding skylights and goings-on and escape provided a small part of the story. Still, it would be nice to have her feelings confirmed by someone who had actually seen Sophie in the flesh.

  He shrugged those wide, bare shoulders. “Well enough. I took her because I thought she was you, but I realized my mistake when I tasted her skin.”

  There was more information than she could handle in that odd sentence. One concern at a time. “You tasted her skin?” All of a sudden Juliet had an image like the one from her nightmare, of claws and blood and pain.

  “I did not hurt her,” the man insisted, and he sounded insulted by the horror that was no doubt evident in Juliet’s voice and on her face.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Juliet made a futile attempt to straighten her braid. It was beyond hope. “What do you mean, you thought she was me?” No one in their right mind would ever confuse her with her beautiful sister.

  “She smelled of you. In her blood, in the clothes she wore and the things she carried, she smelled of you. I should have known she was not the one. She lied to me. She told me she had to piss and then she left signs for the father of her child to follow.”

  “I don’t understand,” Juliet said softly.