Eternal Love: The Immortal Witch Series

by Maggie Shayne

  Before I could stop her, my timid bride rushed past me, bare feet flying as she raced toward the burial ground. She gripped the halter of the funeral horse, even as I ran forward. Her parents followed on my heels.

  “You and your high and mighty notion of good and evil!” Arianna shrieked at the priest. “Where are the gallows, I ask you! Where are the executioners to make your faithful Christians pay for the sin of murder! Where?”

  I caught her arm, tugged her back a step, but she jerked it free. “Nay, these fine women willna rest here among the hypocrites, for they were far too good to lie among refuse! ‘Tis bad enough my own dear sister rests in such company!”

  “Arianna, hold your tongue!” Edwyn shouted.

  “I willna hold my tongue, Da. I canna.”

  Again I gripped her arm, and this time she relaxed at my touch, rather than fighting it. Turning slightly, she faced Joseph upon his horse. “Laird, I beg of you, dinna insist these women be buried here. They were taken from this life against their will an’ before their time, tortured an’ murdered because their beliefs differ from those accepted by the rest of the clan. Let their rest be as they would have had it.”

  When she turned, I could see her face. The tearstains on her cheeks. I’d never seen her cry the way she did for those three old women. And my heart softened.

  “Did I know how they would have had it, lass, I’d gladly grant your request.” Joseph shook his head sadly. “Alas, I ken nothing of their ways.”

  Arianna’s lips curved into the saddest smile I had ever seen. “‘Tis well, then, that I do.”

  A gasp went up from the crowd. They murmured against Arianna until I put my arm around her shoulders and sent a meaningful look over them all, meeting each pair of eyes, one by one. “You’d do well to heed my bride’s words. She bears wisdom far beyond her years.”

  She glanced up at me in surprise, and I knew why. She’d been expecting me to quiet her. To order her to stop this nonsense, and tug her back inside, off the streets. Not to stand at her side and support her this way. But how could I not? I admired her so much that day. Gods, but I’d never seen the sort of courage this girl displayed. Even now that it had been made clear to her what happened to people outspoken in their differences, she stood among her enemies, and spoke loud and bravely against them. Even then she bore the heart of a warrior.

  “The Crones would wish for a great funeral pyre to be built at the site of their destroyed home,” she went on. “They would ask that these coffins be set atop it, an’ that those who cared for them carry torches to ignite the flames.” Slowly, Arianna turned, and stared off in the direction of the clearing where thin spirals of smoke still danced slowly skyward. The wind lifted her cornsilk hair and sent it snapping, and blew her skirt about her naked ankles. A faraway look came into her eyes. “They would wish us to remember them, the good they did for us in life. I tell you true, I never could have survived the loss of my beloved sister were it not for the tender guidance of Delia, Leandra, an’ Mary. They comforted me when no one else could.” And then she faced the crowd again. “You, Maddy Hargrove, might think upon the time you nearly died giving birth to young Billy, an’ how they came to you to ease your pangs an’ save your life as well as that of your babe. An’ you, Nathan MacGregor,” she said, pointing an accusing finger toward the man and looking like an avenging angel. “You might recall the time they brought liniment for the cut on your leg which had already begun to fester. You might thank them that you still have a leg on which to stand.”

  Her gaze turned skyward, then. “By dark of night, I shall ignite the pyre. So the flames can dance an’ spread their light far, even unto the eyes of the very Gods themselves.”

  “Blasphemy,” someone whispered.

  Arianna’s gaze pinned the one who’d spoken. “Aye, an’ was it blasphemy when Leandra stopped you as you walked, an’ bade you hurry home an’ tend the fire in your hearth? You obeyed then, an’ found coals scattered on the floor, beginnin’ to burn already, an’ your wee children asleep in their beds, unaware.”

  Mara came forward then, a hand coming to rest upon Arianna’s shoulder. “My daughter’s views are not always my own,” she said, her voice, unused to speaking above a meek and obedient whisper, wavered slightly. “But in this, I believe she is right. Or . . . if she’s wrong, then perhaps we should call for the execution of everyone who used The Crones’ ways to aid themselves. For if what they did was sin, then we all are as guilty as they.”

  “Well said, Mara Sinclair,” Joseph declared with a firm nod. “Well said. It shall be as my cousin wishes it then.” And by addressing Arianna as such, he was reminding them all of her new status in the clan and village. She might be different, but she was above them now. “Twill be done. This night.” He turned to where his sons stood behind him. “Lads, choose several strong men and take them to the clearing. Supervise them as they build this pyre.” He glanced at Arianna. “Are there any special instructions you would give them, lady?”

  She blinked in surprise, but quickly moved beyond it, falling easily into her new role. And no wonder. Hadn’t she always sensed she was different from the rest? “Aye,” she said. “The wood for the fire should be of oak, ash, and thorn. An’ none of the men are to speak an ill word of The Crones as they stack the wood. This pyre is to be built in their honor, to see them out of this lifetime. ‘Twould nay do to have their names besmirched during its building.”

  Kenyon and Lud glanced at their father, and he nodded once, firmly.

  “So be it then. The bodies will remain in my care, under guard, until nightfall.”

  He swung his horse around as if to go, but Arianna called after him. “Laird?”

  He turned in the saddle. “Aye, lass?”

  “I . . . Thank you. You are indeed a fine man, and an honorable one. I am more sorry than I can say for my behavior at the keep yestereve.”

  “Say no more,” Joseph said with a gentle smile. “‘Tis forgotten.” Then he frowned. “You should ken, lass, the men who led the others in this murderous spree last eve are restin’ now in my dungeon, and will remain there until they face their punishment.”

  She nodded. “An’ what will that punishment be?” she asked, her throat sounding dry, her voice raspy.

  “Much as it pains me, lass, those old women were murdered. As soon as the gallows is built, they shall hang.” There was a murmur among the others, but it silenced when Joseph looked to see who would dare question his authority.

  A slow, soft sigh escaped Arianna, and she lowered her head. “‘Tis as it should be.”

  “Thank you, Joseph,” I said, and in spite of myself, I found I was holding my young bride’s hand tight in my own.

  Joseph nodded once, kicked his horse’s sides, and headed away to the keep, while his sons hastened to obey his orders.

  Chapter 7

  ONLY A FEW came to see The Crones on their journey. Joseph, Kenyon, and Lud. Nidaba, Arianna and her parents, and Nicodimus. They all stood a few yards from the pyre, heads lowered respectfully, each thinking their own thoughts, saying their own prayers or whatever it was they believed in saying at times of parting. All of them let Arianna have enough room to grieve in privacy.

  She stood apart from everyone, closer to the flames. It seemed to Arianna that she could hear the old women’s voices as she stood very close to the funeral pyre and watched the flames dance to the sky. Leandra, whispering that true love came but once, and that a person would always know it when it happened. Celia saying that was poppycock, that a woman must choose the man she would love, and set about winning his love in return, rather than wait for it to arrive on its own. And Mary, whispering that only the Fates themselves knew the answers.

  Arianna thought perhaps they’d each had a part of it right. One could recognize love in themselves, but never know for certain if it would be returned. One could chase after love, or patiently await it, but Fate would always have its way. Doubts crept into her heart as she stood beside the fire. F
or how could she be so sure Nicodimus would ever love her, when even life itself was such a fragile and uncertain thing? Here a moment, and then gone. Fleeting as a stray breeze, and just as difficult to cling to. Life, love, joy. All so tentative, so slippery. She’d learned nothing, if not that. Too much had been ripped away from her desperate grasp to doubt it.

  Nicodimus could be torn from her as well. And it could happen all too easily.

  Heat razed the front of her while the night’s chill breath fanned her back. Firelight danced on her face, and her cheeks burned a bit, but she didn’t step away. She only stared up at the burning caskets and heard the sharp snaps and cracks of the fire’s teeth as it devoured them. The hiss of the green wood, the deep throated growl of the flames. Cinders rose like new stars flying heavenward to take their places among the rest in the inky night sky.

  “Aye,” she whispered. “Go, my sisters. May your souls rest and reflect and find the serenity you sought here among strangers. May you share all you learned with the exalted, the ancient and enlightened ones. And may you return still closer to the state of perfection toward which we all strive. Live, love, die, and live again, my sisters. Merry meet, and merry part. I will miss you, until merry we meet again.”

  Hot tears slid down her cheeks, and Arianna opened the cloth in which she kept the flower petals she’d brought with her. Moving still nearere, she scattered them amid the flames.

  A soft brush of warmth at her side made Arianna look down from the fire’s brilliant yellow and orange glow. Nidaba stood beside her, her dark skin alight, her lined eyes shining the flames’ reflection. She wore a white tunic, and silver crescents dangled from her ears, while a larger one hung from a chain ‘round her neck. The ruby stone she wore in her nose gleamed red in the firelight. In silence, her eyes on the spot where the fire kissed the sky, Nidaba began to mutter in her own tongue. And the words had a music and a beauty to them that was . . . holy.

  Her hand closed around Arianna’s, sending the now familiar jolt through her. Slowly Nidaba lifted both her hands high, one of them still clutching Arianna’s. “Farewell, innocent ones. Follow the moonlight into Inanna’s embrace,” she intoned in her jewel-rich voice.

  Nicodimus came to Arianna’s other side, clutched her other hand, and lifted his in similar fashion. “Go in peace, and blessed be,” he said softly. His voice sent a tremor up Arianna’s nape as it always did. Nicodimus’s voice was like a physical touch.

  Slowly, their joined hands lowered. Nidaba faced Arianna, bending her head slightly.

  “Thank you for that,” Arianna whispered.

  “The loss of one is a loss to all, young one. Mortals seem to have much difficulty grasping the truth of that.”

  “Mortals? This is the second time you’ve used that word.”

  Looking up, meeting Nicodimus’s eyes over Arianna’s head, Nidaba licked her lips. “It is a lesson best learned on the other side, I think. That is all I meant.”

  “I see.” She didn’t. Not really.

  “I am sorry for your pain, Arianna. Truly.”

  Arianna lowered her head. “I thought . . . you probably hated me.”

  “I do not hate. Except when my mind slips.” She shrugged. “But how long can one live, really, without feeling the icy touch of madness every now and again?”

  Arianna frowned and searched her face. “Madness? Nidaba . . . ?”

  “What’s this talk of madness?” Nicodimus asked, and he looked worried. “You’re the most sane woman I know, Nidaba.”

  Nidaba lowered her head, and laughed very softly. “Speak to me when you’ve existed as long as I have, love.”

  When Nidaba’s eyes met Nicodimus’s once more, Arianna wondered anew at the depth of the link she sensed between the two of them. She experienced an unwelcome and unbidden stab of jealousy.

  Nicodimus’s strong hands closed on Arianna’s shoulders from behind her. “Your garments are beginning to singe, little cat. Come away from the fire.”

  Turning to face him, Arianna caught her breath anew at the sheer beauty of the man. The way the firelight played on the angles of his face . . . the way it gleamed in his eyes. She tilted her head to one side. “What did you call me?”

  “Little cat. It is what you remind me of, Arianna. With your curious eyes and volatile nature. Claws that can lash out in the blink of an eye to do a man to death. Your independent nature. In many, many ways, you remind me of the creatures.”

  Eyes narrowing, she studied him. “Then ‘twas not an insult?”

  “No, Arianna. ‘Twas a compliment.”

  Her smile was slow, genuine, if tinged by sadness. “Then I thank you.”

  “You are very welcome.” His palm flat at the spot directly between her shoulder blades, he urged her away slightly. A fallen log seemed to have become the gathering place for the others in attendance. This was where Nicodimus led Arianna. Easing her down to sit upon it, then standing beside her like a servant attending his queen as she rested on the throne.

  Joseph approached her first, took her hands in his, and kissed them gently. “‘Tis sorry I am that this happened, lass. I should have seen it coming. Should have done more to prevent it.”

  “Nay, Laird, you–”

  “Ah-ah. None o’ that. You’re my cousin now, same as Nic. You’ll address me as Joseph, an’ nay by my title. As shall your family.”

  Lowering her eyess to hide her surprise, she simply nodded. “You mustn’t blame yourself for this . . . Joseph. Even I dinna see this coming, an’ more than anyone else, I should have done.”

  He held her hands firmly for a long moment. “I suppose we all wish we’d have known, but the truth is no one could have. I only wish ‘twere under more joyful circumstances I could welcome you into my family, lass. But welcome you I do.”

  “Thank you, Joseph.” Leaning up, she kissed his cheek. And the laird’s smile was broad for a moment.

  Less so, his sons, as one by one, they too came to her, kissed her hand, and welcomed her to the fold. Both seemed sad to see her pain, but their pride was for more wounded, she suspected, that she had refused to have either of them for her husband. Their eyes were shadowed, their mouths drawn and petulant, though she could see them trying to school their expressions.

  Nidaba only met her eyes, and turned to leave with Joseph and the lads. The whole time Nicodimus stood his post by her side. He’d watched the boys carefully, closely, and had gone just slightly stiffer when they had approached her. Now he relaxed that minute amount she shouldn’t have noticed in the first place. But she had noticed. She noticed every detail about him, even a hitch in his breathing.

  Her mother and father had moved closer to the fire. Mam to toss flowers of her own upon the flames, simply because it was what Arianna had told her to do when she’d asked how to show her respect. Da simply stood with his head bowed, hands folded low. A moment of prayer and farewell.

  She was silent, watching them. Nicodimus seemed more intent, though, on watching her.

  When they returned, her mother said, “Come, child. We must get you in out of the night air, afore you take a chill.”

  Arianna bowed her head. “You spoke up for me, this morning, Mam. Despite what the clan might have thought of you, and despite that your own beliefs more closely mirror theirs than my own.”

  Her mother’s hand stroked a slow path over Arianna’s cheek. “I havena been the best mother to you, lass, since . . . since Raven . . . .” Her voice broke.

  Arianna knew how difficult it was for her mother to speak her sister’s name, and she rose in one fluid movement to wrap her mother in a fierce embrace. “Nay, Mam, you’ve been the best mother in the world. ‘Twas I who closed myself away.”

  “I was too crippled by my own grief, child,” Mara went on. “But I do love you, lass. I never stopped. An’ I’d lay down my life for you to this day, without a moment’s hesitation. I love you, Arianna. My firstborn daughter. You’re my soul, dinna you know that, lass? My very soul!”

&n
bsp; Tears choking her, Arianna clutched her mother tight, and nodded hard. “Aye. Aye, I know. An’ I, for you, Mam. Even when I seemed distant, that remained true. I love you.”

  They embraced for a long moment, the emotions so powerful, Arianna couldn’t tell which body was trembling, her own or her mother’s. Perhaps both. But when they stepped apart, she looked at her father and saw his eyes were unashamedly red and moist. He met her gaze and nodded once, and she understood. I, also, he was telling her. She went to hug him as well.

  Then she straightened. “I canna leave just yet,” she told them. “I need to stay, to hold vigil by the fire until the flames burn out. ‘Tis a tradition older than any of us, an’ I wish to carry it through to the end.”

  “But lass, ‘tis dark! An’ the night air–” her mother began, but her father touched Mara’s shoulder, and she bit her lip.

  “She’s a grown woman now,” he said. “She can decide for herself how best to show respect to her friends who’ve passed on, so long as ‘tis safe.” At this he glanced at Nicodimus, who’d been standing apart, silent, until now.

  Arianna met his eyes, saw the fire-glow dancing in them. “She’ll be perfectly safe,” he said. “I’ll stay for as long as it takes.”

  * * * *

  I WAS ALONE with her in the darkness, beside a blazing funeral pyre. It was not the wisest decision on my part. But I was learning more about Arianna every moment, and I knew full well she’d have stayed with me or without me. I still had concerns for her safety. While the crofters may have softened slightly toward her, their tongues would still wag were she seen out alone at night. Especially here.

  She stood watching in silence as her parents walked back along the path toward the village. Within a few moments, the night swallowed them up, and yet she remained there, her back to the fire, her eyes fixed on the distant darkness.