Sorceress

by Lisa Jackson

  “Danger?” Bryanna repeated, softly this time, so that she would not startle the passing villagers. “Danger abounds? Isa, what are you saying?” Bryanna hated these cryptic messages that only she could hear. “Isa!” She was edging out of the crowded street so as to attract little attention, when she noticed Gavyn running from the village toward her, concern evident in his gray eyes.

  Her heart leapt at the sight of him, his hair catching in the breeze, his new tunic stretched over his broad shoulders. She’d been right when she’d first tended to his wounds, months earlier. His bruises and cuts had hidden his strong jaw, sharp features, and deep-set silver eyes.

  “Thank God you’re safe,” he said, grabbing her as if he expected her to vanish into the air. He hugged her tightly and she drank in the musky male scent of him. Immediately her mind was filled with flashes of their lovemaking, no longer savage or brutal, but not gentle either. Fierce and urgent, it was, and she knew deep in her soul she would never get enough of this man or his sensual touch.

  Holding her against him, he whispered into her hair, “I went back to the room and couldn’t find you and I thought . . . I thought that you might have . . . Oh, hell, it matters not.”

  “Might have what?” she asked, tears of relief burning behind her eyes.

  “Been taken or harmed or . . . Bloody Christ, it doesn’t matter.”

  She thought of the dark figure she’d seen loitering nearby, then dismissed it. ’Twas nothing. Twaddle. Managing a sly grin, she asked, “You were worried?”

  “About you?” he asked, his arm slung around her shoulders as they walked toward the inn. “Always.” Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “You have always had a way of getting yourself—and me—into trouble,” he reminded her. “Even as a girl. But I thought you would sleep long and be safe until I returned.”

  “I am safe.”

  “Humph.”

  “Why did you not wake me?”

  “Because I thought that in slumber you wouldn’t be able to find trouble. And”—he touched the tip of her nose with a finger—“you are damned adorable when you sleep.”

  “Unlike you,” she teased, and his eyes flashed as they skirted a puddle drying on the street.

  “Best avoid the mud,” he said. “The bathwater in our room has gone stone-cold.”

  “We could wash in St. Winefride’s well.”

  “And have the parish priest draw and quarter us? Nay, I think not.” But he did manage a smile at the thought of it.

  She linked her arm through his. “So tell me, husband Cain, what did you find?”

  “Nothing. As I said, rather than wake you I decided to canvass Holywell and try to locate the gem. But no one I talked to remembered a sorceress from sixteen years earlier. Nay, most looked at me as if I was without any brain at all. Others were scared, many making the sign of the cross before scuttling away to hide like insects beneath rocks.”

  Clouds began to block the sun as they reached the gates of the village and joined the procession of people on foot or horseback. Gavyn narrowed his eyes on the buildings and streets, squinting as he looked up at rooftops, frowning as he stared at gutters, peering hard into the open doors of shops.

  “The bloody stone could be hidden anywhere.” Vexed, he shoved his hair from his eyes and scowled.

  “I know. I looked for the emerald, too, if only briefly.”

  They reached the inn, much to Bryanna’s relief. These days she’d found the child within slowing her down, consuming much of her strength.

  “It might take us months to find it,” Gavyn said as he held the door open for Bryanna. “Or worse, we might never find it.”

  “Aye, I felt the same hopelessness, wondering where to start. ’Twas overwhelming,” she said in a whisper as they climbed the stairs to the upper hallway. Her mind flashed back to Isa’s recent words, though they were no help at all. What had she said? Not to be angry or run in circles. To get the gem and leave.

  If only it were that simple, Bryanna thought.

  He touched her shoulder, his fingers warm through her new clothes. “We can’t very well tear the town and the well apart, stone by stone.”

  She stepped into their room, where all evidence of the bath and food had been removed. The freshly made bed was ample reminder of how they’d spent the previous night.

  He glanced at the mattress, then back at Bryanna.

  “Don’t even suggest it,” she warned, though she was more than a little tempted to lie with him again. “We have too much to do.”

  “And no way to do it.” He sat on the foot of the bed, as if he hoped she would join him. Instead, she went to the window and looked out into the street. Was it her imagination or was there a man in dark clothes lingering in the shadowed doorway of the shop across the way? Her skin prickled in fear.

  “What?” Gavyn asked. When she wasn’t quick with a response, he repeated himself. “What, Bryanna?”

  Grudgingly, she said, “I—I don’t know. I wasn’t certain. I mean, I dismissed it, but earlier there was a man on the street. He seemed to be following me,” she said, remembering Gleda’s dire warning. Poor Gleda, who had died within hours of meeting Bryanna. “Mayhap I’m just imagining things, but both Gleda and Isa, they have warned me of some ‘dark warrior’ who wants to harm me.”

  Gavyn crossed to the window and placed a large hand upon her shoulder. “And you think you see him?”

  “I don’t know. Look there, under the eave of that shop.” With one finger, she indicated the wattle and daub building across the narrow street. “You see?”

  He frowned. “Aye, there’s a man there, but he’s not hunting you down. It looks to me that he’s a drunk who is relieving himself against the bole of a tree.”

  She squinted, saw that Gavyn was right, and turned away. “I am going out of my mind. Just today, while at the well, I heard Isa’s voice again. Right in the middle of the street! Never before has she talked to me when I was in the midst of people. I was so surprised I called out to her and caught the ire and curiosity of everyone near the healing springs.”

  “And what did she say?”

  “Oh, bah! She always talks in riddles. Let’s see . . . oh, that danger abounds.”

  One side of his mouth lifted in amusement. “That we alreadyknow. See there.” He hitched his chin toward the window. “The dangerous and deadly tree pisser is nearby.”

  Bryanna elbowed him and said, “You asked.”

  “Yes, yes, go on.”

  “She reminded me of my quest about the child I am supposed to save. She mentioned the old prophecy about the Chosen One. You’ve heard it before, I’m sure.”

  Gavyn nodded. “Sired in Darkness, born of Light . . .”

  “Aye. The Chosen One, the next ruler of Wales. As if that’s the child I’m supposed to use the Sacred Dagger to protect.”

  He scratched at his forehead and pushed a crop of dark hair away from his eyes. “What else did Isa say?”

  “She told me not to keep running in circles and not to be angry. . . .” Bryanna let the words fade. “No, she said not to be cross—that was it. An odd choice of words. Why would I be . . . Oh, dear God, let me see the map.”

  She opened her leather pouch and withdrew the rolled deer hide, spreading it open upon the bed and tracing her fingers over the etching. “Look, over here, just a small distance from the well where the spring is? See the long stick with a circle on it and a cross within that circle? Like a wheel. . . . Could this be what she meant? Don’t get cross with me. Don’t run in circles?”

  Excitement sizzled through Bryanna’s nerves. She was right—she knew it! She could feel it in her bones. Quickly, she began packing her few things, stuffing them into her small leather pouches, forcing them inside. “Why would Kambria, a supposed witch, come to a religious place like this? She was running from a priest, and yet she chose to hide the gem here, where a Christian saint’s miracle took place. That doesn’t make sense, does it?”

  “No. But then neith
er does hiding a map and opal in your own body to be buried with you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “And perhaps it was her attempt at supreme deception, hiding the very thing her enemies wanted right under their noses.”

  “No, no. I think not! Just listen.” After another quick read of the map to assure herself of her own convictions, she rolled up the deer hide and stuck it into her pouch. “Didn’t we pass something on our way here? A few miles north or west, wasn’t it? We were a little lost at the time, I think. We rode past some kind of tall stone shrine?”

  He touched his chin, trying to recall.

  “Remember? ’Twas ancient and topped by a cross in a wheel . . . or mayhap a circle.” She stared long and hard at Gavyn. “That’s what Isa meant. When she said, ‘Do not be cross’ and ‘Do not run in circles.’ ”

  He looked at her skeptically, clearly unconvinced. “We passed by the Maen Achwyfan wheel cross,” he said. “The stone of lamentations. No one is sure if that shrine was built to honor the Christian God or pagan rites.”

  “Perfect! Don’t you think it is what she meant?”

  He hesitated. “If truth be told, I’m not even certain her voice exists, Bryanna.”

  She froze, staring at him. What would it take to shake some sense into that mule head of his? “Then mayhap you would like to make a wager?”

  “You want to bet on it?” He blinked, as if he couldn’t believe what she’d just said.

  “Aye, because I’m certain I’ll win.”

  Gavyn’s lips twitched. “All right, woman. What would I win if there’s nothing there?”

  “What?” She met his teasing gaze with her own, saw the dare in his eyes and was reminded of the time when they were so much younger. At Penbrooke, when he was the stable boy, he had often challenged her—to jump across a creek, to catch a frog in her bare hands, to ride a horse without a saddle, to steal a tart from the cook. Of course, she had never backed down. And he knew it.

  He, too, was remembering. She saw it in the glint in his eyes, the smile he couldn’t quite hide.

  Bryanna arched a seductive eyebrow and whispered in a low voice, “What is it you would win?” she repeated with a slow wink. “Mayhap anything you want, husband.”

  “You mean it?”

  “Mmm. That I do. But if you lose, then ’twill be me who can ask any favor from you.”

  “ ’Tis a bet.”

  “Good. Then come with me and we shall see, shan’t we?” She was already starting for the door, her new mantle billowing behind her. From the corner of her eye, she saw him grab his own leather pouches before following her down the stairs, his boots ringing loudly.

  Outside the weather had changed. Gray clouds were rapidly chasing across an ever-darkening sky. Bryanna pulled her mantle a little tighter about her as she hurried to the stables. The horses had been groomed, fed, and watered. Alabaster nickered at the sight of her, and she rubbed the mare’s nose fondly. She even took the time to scratch Harry behind his ears as Gavyn found the animals’ saddles, bridles, and packs. Harry, devoid of a thick bundle of furs, was still loaded with tools and supplies.

  Within minutes they were on the road again, the first fat drops of rain spitting from the sky and splattering against the ground.

  They made their way down the steep hillside, then, once they were on flatter ground, picked up speed. Bryanna urged Alabaster into a gentle lope, keeping up with Rhi and Harry, who, despite his awkward gait, was able to gallop easily.

  As they rode, the rain increased, sporadic drops turning into a heavy downpour. The sky turned dark as night, and far in the distance lightning flashed and thunder rolled. The road, already worn and furrowed from dozens of cart and wagon wheels, became a slick thick ribbon of mud.

  Despite her new mantle and tunic, rainwater slid down Bryanna’s neck, chilling her skin. Her teeth chattered, but she didn’t doubt herself.

  Surely this, the ancient monolithic cross, was the place where the stone was buried.

  It had to be.

  They pressed on through the curtain of rain along a road that seemed abandoned. No sane person would brave this miserable weather.

  At last they saw the stone monument, standing alone—a monolith with a wheel cross at its apex. Bryanna sent up a silent prayer to Morrigu that this, indeed, was where Kambria had buried the second stone.

  Blinking against the rain, Bryanna dismounted. Gavyn slid to the ground, approached Harry, and untied the shovel. The horses’ ears were flattened, their nostrils wide as they lifted their noses to the raging storm.

  “It’ll be all right,” Bryanna said, patting Alabaster’s withers.

  “So where do you think we should start digging?” he asked, his gaze sweeping the grassy terrain.

  “East, I would guess.”

  “No guessing,” he said, tipping his head up to the sky, where another blaze of lightning sizzled over the mountains.

  “Please, just dig,” she said, pointing to the monument.

  He threw his shoulders into the task, digging around the base of the stone monolith as thunder cracked and the wind began to rush around them.

  One hole.

  Two.

  Three.

  She helped, prodding the wet soil with her knife, searching for resistance.

  But they found nothing.

  He tried in another direction, cutting through the grass to turn up earth. Dark holes circled the statue, but to no avail.

  “Oh, hell.” Disgusted, Gavyn threw down his shovel. Using his sword, its blade far longer than her knife, he too began to test the ground. In the long blade went, Gavyn leaning heavily upon it. Then out again. In once more. Around the statue in ever-widening circles. Over and over while the rain lashed at them.

  Finally, he looked up at her through the rain, dirt running from the blade of his weapon. “It’s not here,” he said as thunder clapped.

  “It has to be.”

  He shook his head and tried to wipe the water from his face, only to leave a streak of mud on his cheek. “It’s no use.”

  “We can’t stop yet.”

  He glared at her, looked up at the sky, then said, “You just don’t want to pay your debt, wife.”

  “Oh, that’s not it.”

  “Bryanna, this is the wrong spot. Whatever Isa said to you, it was wrong.” He yanked his sword from the ground and started for the horses.

  “No, wait!” she shouted. “It’s here. We just haven’t found it yet.”

  “Woman, what do you expect me to do? Dig up the entire damned field? Or perhaps I should topple that huge stone?” He was already at Harry’s side, and she was left standing in the rain.

  She’d been so certain, so sure this was Kambria’s second hiding place.

  Ignoring Gavyn for the moment, she stooped over the small mounds of dirt, digging around the base of the monolith. Although the wind and rain lashed at her, she tried to remain calm, to reason it out. Think, Bryanna, think! What was it Isa had said? Where would Kambria have hidden the gem?

  “Well?” Gavyn called, his words tinged with impatience. He’d already taken the reins of Harry’s bridle into one hand and was standing next to Rhi.

  “I don’t know. I thought it would be here. I knew it would be!” Rain washed down her face and neck, soaking her to the skin. Her clothes were heavy, the smell of wet wool adding to the scent of mud.

  “We need to find shelter.”

  She turned from him and stared up at the sky. “Isa, what did you mean?” she demanded, holding her arms wide. She couldn’t give up! Wouldn’t. Looking at the threatening heavens, she remembered Isa’s words:

  Do not be cross! Do not run in circles! Forestall all evil! Find the gem and leave! Danger abounds!

  Once more, she ran them through her mind.

  Do not be cross! Do not run in circles! Forestall all evil! Find the gem and leave! Danger abounds.

  Through the curtain of rain she stared at the stark monolith. There was the cross and the circle. That part was correc
t!

  “Bryanna, come,” Gavyn insisted.

  She would not heed him. Not yet. “Forestall . . . danger abounds,” Bryanna said, the words swirling through her mind like a chant. “Cross, circle, forestall, danger abounds.” Faster and faster the words spun until they blended and she whispered them and . . .

  With a rolling peal of thunder, she understood. Oh, for the love of Morrigu, she thought, piecing Isa’s cryptic instructions together. “Wait! Gavyn, please.” Turning, she saw him already astride his big steed. “No . . . we have to try one more thing,” she pleaded.

  “Bryanna, no. We came. We tried. It’s not here.”

  “Please!” Bryanna insisted. “I think it’s on the east side, but . . . but we were too close to the statue. I think Isa meant it’s buried four leaps to the east.”

  “What?” He stared at her as if she’d finally gone stark, raving mad. Rain plastered his hair to his head and dripped from the tip of his nose. “Leap? Like a toad?”

  “That’s what she meant by forestall and abounding.”

  “You can’t be serious. Come on! You’re soaked to the skin, and so am I. If we ride now, we can make the next town by nightfall.”

  “Not until we search one last time.” Spinning so hard she nearly slipped on the wet grass, Bryanna strode back to the monolith and took four long jumps to the east. This was right. She was certain. “Oh, Isa, do not fail me,” she whispered. “Here.” She jabbed a finger at the wet ground, blinking against the rain. “This is where we need to dig.”

  He didn’t move. What was wrong with him?

  “Come on!” When he didn’t move to help her, she muttered,“Very well,” under her breath. She marked the spot by yanking a tuft of grass out by its roots, then marched to Harry and began untying the shovel.

  “No,” Gavyn said, but she ignored him, pulling her gloves off with her teeth so she could untie the laces securing the shovel to Harry’s harness. “Bryanna—”

  The laces came free, the shovel falling into her waiting hands. With one dark scowl at Gavyn, she strode back to the spot where the grass was uprooted.

  “For the love of St. Peter,” Gavyn said as lightning forked across the sky. “Bryanna . . . oh, bloody hell!” He dismounted quickly.