“When I returned, it was to find my village destroyed. The crofts of my people burned, the crops lying exposed to the burning sun, withered and ruined, the livestock butchered, their carcasses stinking and bloated. And their owners, for the most part, alongside them in the same or worse condition.”
“Oh, Nicodimus,” she breathed. “Gods, I’d have collapsed in devastation.”
I turned. She’d risen, but stayed near the rock, looking as if she’d like to run to me, to offer comfort, but perhaps, knowing better. “That is very close to what I did. Later, when I managed to move again, I erected a huge pyre, placing upon it the bodies of my clan—my friends and neighbors, my elderly father and my cousins.” I lowered my head, shuddering at the memory. “I think I knew even then that the men responsible were Anya’s brothers, Marten and Kohl. They’d vowed vengeance on me since the day I took their sister, and only the births of our sons had prevented them leading their clan against us sooner. Evil, they may have been, but even they had enough decency to refrain from embarking on a battle that might wound their own kin.”
She nodded slowly. “But once your precious Anya was gone, their restraint went with it.”
I nodded, my lips tight, my stomach roiling with the memory. “After the fires burned low, I went to the ancient Stone Circle, where the holy men of my clan would go to commune with the spiritual realm, and find peace and wisdom. Common men such as I rarely ventured into the sacred space, but I still had no answers to the questions burning in my soul. And somehow, I thought I would find them nowhere else.”
Eyes widening, Arianna tipped her head to one side. “The same Stone Circle where I saw you tonight?”
“Yes, little cat. I vowed I would remain there until the Gods themselves spoke to me, or I would die slowly within its embrace. And there I sat upon the ground, day and night, with neither food nor water. I sat there through rain and storm, through the chill of night and the heat of midday, until my mind became dulled with hunger, and my body parched with thirst. Until I became too weak to sit up, and so lay down instead, my knees curled to my chest, my body trembling. And still I waited, demanding the Gods either speak to me or take my life.”
Arianna did come to me then. She stood very close, one hand sliding up my arm. “Obviously, they did not take your life.”
“No. They gave me the answers I sought, in the form of a group of men whose roots went back in time, to unknown beginnings. The Druids. Holy men. As it happened, my vigil fell near their springtime rites, the one the Pagans call Beltane. And so they came from their secluded havens, to summon forth the spirits of the trees, and to dance in celebration of the spring.”
“And they found you there?”
My hands had found their way to her waist, tiny in the span of my palms. I think I put them there to keep her at a safe distance, but it almost transformed into an embrace. It felt incredibly intimate, standing this way, holding her waist, her hands on my outer arms, her little face turned up to mine.
“One of the hooded, aged men carried me to the edge of the circle, and poured water down me, fed me, wrapped me in a blanket. Then left me there to witness their peculiar rites.” I closed my eyes, remembering. The fiddler played, and they danced and chanted. It was something of rare beauty and power.”
I could see her face twist in confusion. No doubt she wondered why I would later sully such a sacred, mystical site with the blood of my enemy. But I would come to that.
“When they left again at dawn, they carried me with them. And at their temples, hidden deep within the forests, they patiently taught me what I was.”
“What, Nicodimus? What are you?”
So much eagerness in her eyes. The fear was less now, than it had been before.
“I’m a Witch. An immortal High Witch, Arianna. Far different from village witches such as The Crones were. Most don’t even know of the existence of the High Ones, the immortals.”
She took my hand, and led me beside her along a path deeper into the woods. “How did you become this way?”
Her small hand was not cold, nor trembling, but strong, and firm. As if she could somehow comfort me. And amazingly, she was doing just that. “There are two ways,” I told her. “It is said that when one dies while attempting to save the life of a witch, that person will return to his next lifetime with the gift of immortality. He is born, and grows older as any mortal would do, until he experiences physical death for the first time. When that happens, he doesn’t remain dead . . . but instead revives to life once more. And from that moment on, he will not age. His senses will sharpen, and his strength will grow. The older he becomes, the stronger he will be.”
She nodded, listening intently. “You said there is one way you could experience true death, Nicodimus.”
“Yes. Only should someone remove my heart from my chest, will my death be permanent. And even then, it isn’t true death, for the body, though lifeless, will never rot away, and the heart, though bodiless, will beat on . . . perhaps forever.”
She stopped walking, and with a soft gasp lifted her hand to her breast. “‘Tis a nightmare!” Then she blinked . . . and slowly looked up at me. “Then . . . that man in the circle, whose heart you cut out. . .”
“Yes,” I told her. “He was immortal. But not like me, Arianna. He was one of the Dark Ones, made immortal by far different means. For as I told you, there are two ways to obtain this endless life, and the second is for less pretty than the first.”
She released my hand, and wandered toward the banks of a swift running stream, there to sit down on the soft moss, spreading her skirts beneath her. “Come,” she said, patting a spot beside her. Tell me.”
I stood where I was, staring at her, so small and delicate to my eyes. “Perhaps I’ve shocked you enough for one night, Arianna.”
“I’ll nay rest until I know all of it,” she promised. And again, patted the moss.
Sighing, I went to her, settled down beside her. “All right. Since I know your stubbornness to be legendary, I will go on. But if it becomes more than you can bear–”
“I am far stronger than you know, Nicodimus. Far stronger.”
Looking into her eyes, I sighed and relented. “Where there is good there is also evil. You know this.”
“Aye,” she said. “There can be no light without darkness. ‘Tis the way of things. Of nature itself.”
I nodded my agreement. “Thus with witches. There are evil ones among us, those without conscience, without love in their souls. When they find out the secrets of High Witches, they cannot resist seeking out immortality for themselves.”
“And how can they gain it, Nicodimus?”
“By killing one of us. By taking the heart from our chest, and holding it captive in a small box. So long as they possess the heart, they possess the immortality, and the power of its rightful owner. In time, the heart will weaken, and the Dark Witch with it. So they are compelled to take another, and another. It is the only way they can live on.”
“I see.” She said it slowly, thoughtfully. Then, drawing a deep breath, met my gaze straight on. “You say you are one of the Light Ones, Nicodimus. And yet I just saw you take a living heart.”
I stiffened. That she could, even for a moment, believe me to be one of the Dark Ones. I nearly spoke without thinking, nearly told her of the birthmarks we all bear, the Light upon the right flank, the Dark upon the left, in order to prove to her my innocence. But I bit the words back in the barest instant before I would have spoken them. For if she knew of the birthmark’s significance she would have to know that she was as I am. Immortal, just like me. And I was convinced my tender cat was not ready for that information. Not yet. Hadn’t she already told me she’d rather die than to outlive all those she loved?
“I took his heart because it was the only way to ensure he stay dead. And I did not keep it, Arianna. I burned it on a pyre, the heart as well as the body. For that was the one way to free Kohl’s immortal soul.”
She inhaled deeply, lo
wering her pretty chin, but then her head came up again, eyes wide. “Kohl? Nicodimus, this man was the one who attacked you before . . . he was . . .”
“My brother-in-law,” I said, nodding slowly. “I have no idea how he learned the secret, but he and his brother did so. They both managed to take living hearts and capture immortality for themselves. And it makes sense to me that they did so. If they had learned I was immortal, they would have gone to any lengths to become the same. Their only wish was to live long enough to kill me, the man who killed their father, humiliated them before their own clan, stole away their sister. They blamed me for Anya’s death as well. And they always vowed they would have vengeance on me one day.”
“What of the other one, Nicodimus?”
I shook my head. “If they had been together they would no doubt have attacked me as one. Unfair, but they have never been men of ethics or honor. And Marten is a far more accomplished witch than Kohl. He’s even mastered the art of setting fires with naught but his will over the centuries. I’d have had much more trouble defeating Marten. No, Arianna, if Kohl attacked me alone, then his brother must be far away.”
Her hand came up to stroke my face. “I’m sorry for you, Nicodimus. It must be truly horrible to know you have been hated so much for so long.” Then she shook her head slowly. “And to live being hunted by the Dark Ones. For that is how you must live, is it not?”
“Yes. It is. Coming here, to this place, has always been my escape from that life. But one of them found me, even here.”
“Aye,” she said. “But that one is no more.”
“I never meant to bring the darkness to this place. . .. To you. . .”
Her smile was gentle, and small. “I dinna doubt that, Nicodimus.”
“But where one can find me, others may well follow.”
She sat a little straighter. “They will have me to contend with, do they wish to harm my husband,” she declared.
And that made me smile. But then she hugged me quite fiercely, her arms tight ‘round my waist, her head pressing to my chest. “Dinna laugh at me, Nicodimus. I mean what I say.”
My arms went ‘round her, seemingly of their own volition. Such a strong, stubborn woman. She touched something deep within me. The scent of her hair seemed to tangle itself ‘round my senses, and tug me gently closer.
“Take me to the Stone Circle, next full moon,” she said softly. “The Crones were afraid to perform magical rites there. But I wish to feel the power you spoke of, to know it for myself.”
It was not in my power to deny her. I thought then, that anything she asked of me, I would gladly do.
Anything . . . except love her. I must never do that.
Never. . .
Chapter 11
ARIANNA UNDERSTOOD NOW, so much more than before. Perhaps Nicodimus would love her . . . if only he could. But he could not. Oh, she did not believe for a moment that his heart had died with his family. No, his heart was strong in him, and filled with tender emotions. She had seen the pain in his eyes as he’d spoken of his lost family. One could not hurt if one were incapable of loving. Indeed, she had begun to think her husband had more love inside him than anyone she had ever known. But not for her. Nay, not for her. He could not risk loving her, nor would she ask it of him. For he knew–and now she did as well–the consequences loving her would bring. He would be forced to watch her grow old, while he remained young and strong. He would have to watch her die, leaving him behind. Immortal and utterly alone.
She thought on these things as she rode before him on his fiery black stallion, her back pressed to his chest, his hand at her waist. She thought on these things and more. And she realized that she had to give up her dreams of making him love her. For his sake. She loved him too much to ask him to suffer such unspeakable anguish because of her. She would not ask it of him again.
He glanced down at her, concern etched on his face. “The things I’ve told you tonight . . . they’ve shocked you.”
She thought on that for a moment. “Shocked, aye. But enlightened, as well. I ken your heart more now than ever I have, Nicodimus. An’ ‘tis glad I am you finally shared your secrets with me.”
His steady gaze made her wish for more than could ever be as he replied, “I always intended to tell you all of this. I only . . . thought to wait until I judged you ready to hear it. I thought.–”
“You thought a girl so young and flighty, too immature to deal with these truths. You thought I would run in fear of you, or give myself nightmares.”
He frowned, a hint of guilt appearing on his face. “I only thought to protect your tender heart and mind from such dark truths as these.’“
At that, Arianna smiled. “My heart is far from tender, Nicodimus. I am strong. Far stronger than you could ever dream.”
“And far more vulnerable than you know, little cat.”
“Nay. ‘Tis not so. In time, you’ll see.”
He returned her smile, but his was doubtful, tentative. And slowly a more serious expression replaced it. “I’ve trusted you with these secrets, Arianna. And secrets, they must remain. Understand that.”
“Aye,” she replied. “Nicodimus, I ken full well the need for secrecy in this. An’ I would die of torture before revealin’ a word of what you’ve told me this eve. I swear it to you on the name of my sister.”
He blinked as if in surprise at the vehemence in her voice. But she meant what she said, and used the only words she could think of to convince him of that. He believed her, she thought. For he nodded firmly, and turned his attention back to the path ahead.
The keep rose dark and towering before them, and only as they drew near did she think of something she had not asked. “What of Nidaba? Is she . . . is she a High Witch as well?”
He glanced her way. “Nidaba’s secrets are not mine to share. But if you ask her, Arianna, I believe she will be as honest with you as I have been. She does not show it, but I sense that deep down she is fond of you, for some reason.”
She lifted a hand to her breast as if wounded. “Am I so onerous that this surprises you?”
He met her eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Naught you might do could surprise me,” he said. “And you know full well you’re the farthest thing from onerous. It is simply that Nidaba tends to . . . shy away from intimacies, bonds of any kind where caring is involved.”
“Aye,” she said, smiling back at him now. “Except with you.” He conceded the point with a nod, and Arianna told herself she had no need to feel jealous.
Side by side they rode through the gates, and dismounted. Nicodimus took the reins, and led his horse into the stables. And he didn’t object when Arianna walked with him into the dark, hay-scented outbuilding. He removed the saddle, the bridle, reached for a rag and began rubbing his stallion briskly.
She felt a bit guilty for not having taken proper care of the mare she’d borrowed earlier. And while Nicodimus worked on Black, she went to where the dun mare stood, and brushed her coat. When Nicodimus gave Black some grain, she gave some to the mare as well, and thought she saw approval in her husband’s eyes.
Arianna tilted her head when he faced her once more. “I suppose your aversion to closeness must not extend to animals. For I believe you think more highly of your horse than your wife.”
She was teasing. But Nicodimus didn’t jest with her in return. Instead he took both her hands in his, and stared into her eyes. “You must never think that, Arianna. I do care for you. More than is probably wise.”
Her hands warmed where he held them, and her heart seemed to quicken its beat. But she closed her eyes and reminded herself she must be strong. Must not give in to the yearning of her body . . . nor to that of her heart. “You needn’t spew lies to comfort me, Nicodimus. I’ve told you, I am the strongest person I know. An’ now that you’ve explained your past to me, I’ll be content to be your wife in name only. I ken why ‘tis necessary, an’ I willna go back on my word.” He parted his lips to say more, but she shook
her head firmly. “Nay, no more. Save your carin’ for your horse, husband. I’ve no need of it. Truly. You saved my life by weddin’ me, an’ ‘tis enough. More than enough.”
He frowned at her, studying her there in the darkness as if unable to comprehend her words.
“Dinna you ken, Nicodimus? I’m only agreein’ to the terms you laid down afore our marriage. I’ll nay try to make you love me, only to watch me age an’ die while you remain alone. Is this nay the very thing you wanted of me?”
As they walked together out of the stable and began crossing the courtyard, which was, for once, void of any clansmen, his frown deepened and he nodded. “Yes, I . . . I suppose it is.”
“Then you have it.” She lowered her head, bit her lower lip. “However, I would ask one concession of you.”
“One concession?” He crooked a single dark brow. “Now you have me curious. Go on, what is it?”
Lifting her chin, she cleared her throat and met his eyes. “I believe the laird and Nidaba would exercise discretion, but as for Kenyon an’ Lud, I have doubts. Besides, servants are known for gossip, an’ there are servants aplenty in this household. An’ the rest of the clan, coming an’ going all the while.”
“Indeed,” he said. “There are. And they do gossip.”
She nodded firmly. “Aye. Were it known my husband preferred sleepin’ in the hall or the stables to sharin’ my bed, I’d be shamed, Nicodimus. Ridiculed an’ a cause for amusement to the entire clan.”
Nicodimus kept his gaze trained on the ground rather than on her, no doubt displeased with the direction her thoughts had taken. But she forced herself to go on.
“I would ask, Nicodimus, that you at least make a pretense of feelin’ . . . affection for me . . . of our marriage bein’ a real one, rather than a lie designed to protect me from my own rebellious ways. Allow me to salvage my pride, an’ walk without shame among my clan.” Still he said nothing. Her voice softer, she rushed on. “After all, ‘twill only be for a short while. Only until you leave me again, as you said you would.”
Eternal Love: The Immortal Witch Series Page 49
