“The gods watched over us. Our only death was the pony. You were the one missing.” He gave her a stern look. “I told you to go to the road. Earthmen prefer soft soil like that by the stream.”
Cerise bristled at that. “I was trying to, but I ran right into one. When I got up I got turned around I guess.”
Lexin pulled Cerise against him once more. “It is over now, my warrior. You were very brave to be out here by yourself and not go farther. If you had, I would never have found you.”
“Lexin,” she said quietly, drained from the previous night’s experience. “Thank you for finding me.”
He tipped her chin up and gave her a slight smile. “’Twas my pleasure, my lady.” He took her hand and led her back to camp.
Late on the fourth day, the caravan left the Forever Woods. As soon as they rode clear, Cerise gave a prayer of thanks.
Their camp that night boasted a blazing fire and a much more cheerful atmosphere.
Cerise was almost grateful when Lexin still showed no inclination of sharing her tent. It would take at least two shampoos to get her hair clean. She wanted a real bath, not just a damp rag in the privacy of her tent.
Lexin probably didn’t feel any better. None of the three men had removed their armor since entering the Forever Woods. He had promised her that tomorrow, by the midday meal, they would be in the next village and they would find an inn.
Cerise slept like the dead, knowing Lexin lay near her tent, an ever vigilant guard. He had been quiet on the ride that day and Cerise had suspected that he was dealing with yesterday’s near disaster.
As she slept, Lexin was laying awake thinking just those thoughts. If Cerise had not been level-headed, it could have been the death of her, he thought.
Lexin fought his growing feelings for her, knowing he had no right to claim her as his mate. He wanted her, with a lust he had never known before, finding each time he touched her, held her close, he wanted her even more.
Lexin knew that it was becoming more than simple lust when, after witnessing two dwarves smash the two Earthmen into dust, they had returned to a camp in chaos. He had expected to find Cerise there and felt a fear grip him like none before when he found her to be missing.
In the darkness, it had been impossible to search for her, knowing if he became lost himself he would be of no help to her. He had spent a sleepless night waiting anxiously for daylight. Thank the gods she had not been too far and had left a trail anyone could have tracked.
Sheer exhaustion finally let sleep claim him.
True to Lexin’s word, the caravan arrived at a large village and his group bathed and rested there. The next morning they left the inn, without the caravan, and in two more days the smell of the sea came to them. By evening, they rode into Trevess.
It was a huge village, a city by this world’s standard. Elegant houses stood next to shops and people from many races walked the streets. Riding within sight of the docks, the masts of sailing vessels rose over roof lines. On a hill that overlooked the city stood the Ysgol of Trevess, the Werres’ version of college. Lexin and Cearan had both attended there.
It was a picture out of a history book of earlier centuries, although Cerise doubted anyone in her world had seen elves on the street.
Lexin led his group past newer inns to one closer to the wharfs. It was in good repair, but its graceful lines showed it was many years old.
Cerise raised her eyebrows in question to Lexin as they reined to a halt in front.
“If Greer was brought through Trevess, his captors would take rooms close to the ships, I believe,” Lexin answered her silent inquiry. “And I believe you will have your best luck in the older part of the city. Begin your magic when you may, my lady. Remember to be cautious in your questioning, for your safety as much as Greer’s,” Lexin said. He put a hand on her knee as she sat astride her big gelding. It was the first personal touch he had given her since finding her in the woods.
Lexin turned from her open look of longing. She was not skilled at hiding her emotions and something hopeful had crossed her face, making Lexin flinch inwardly.
Because the Werren men had spotted a few Zakara in the town, and it was the busiest time of the year for trade, Lexin took only two rooms.
The first thing Cerise did was to take another bath. She then dressed in one of the two dresses she had brought. She chose one of rich brown with an underskirt of golden yellow. It had elbow length sleeves and a modest bodice, fitted at the waist and a full, floor length skirt. She had a hidden sheath for her boot knife at the back of her dress, the knife’s hilt hidden under the fall of her hair.
Cearan prodded Lexin with his elbow when he spotted Cerise entering the common room.
“Your lady looks most fetching this evening, cousin,” Cearan remarked over his ale cup.
“She is not mine,” Lexin retorted. His stormy gaze dropped to his cup.
“Well, she will have no other, believe me,” Cearan remarked dryly, turning to gaze at Lexin. “I have offered.”
Lexin’s head jerked up at that, pinning his kinsman with a hostile glare. Another man would have been afraid of that look.
Ignoring it, Cearan traced the scar over his eye and cheek and smiled at Lexin instead. “She will only have someone as handsome as you. Not scarred warriors such as us.” He gestured again at his scar and then over at Merrick, who looked amused. “Beautiful women like beautiful things.”
Lexin stood so quickly he knocked his chair over. He slammed his mug down, sloshing its contents. “I am neither a pet nor a prize!” he growled. “And I need no one.”
His furious gaze left Cearan’s shocked one to look up into Cerise’s stricken face, knowing she had heard his last statements. He spun away from the table and left the room, patrons quickly moved out of the angry Werre’s way.
Cearan leaned back in his chair while Merrick seated Cerise. “The first chance I get, I am going to thrash him,” he threatened in a low, tight voice.
“I’d like to watch,” Cerise muttered, trying not to let her two companions know just how badly Lexin’s words had hurt her.
The three ate their evening meal in silence. Afterward, Cerise studied the patrons over a goblet of wine. She took particular note of the arrival of a gentleman late in his years. He looked to be a merchant of some sort. Many of the other locals greeted the man by name and he gave a friendly wave in return, taking a seat along one wall.
The man’s gray hair was tied back in a short queue. The simple brown homespun clothing he wore was neat and clean. As he had passed by their table, Cerise caught the scent of herbs clinging to the man.
Once the man had been served his dinner, Cerise excused herself from her table. “Wait for me here, please,” she requested of Cearan and Merrick. “I want to speak to that man.”
Cearan nodded and the two men rose with her, and then returned to their chairs as she made her way to the older man’s table.
“Excuse me, sir,” she began when she reached the man’s table. He looked up at her with questioning gray eyes.
He laid down his fork and eating knife. “May I help you, madam?”
“I wondered, sir, if you might possibly be an herbalist?” she asked. “As you passed my table, I thought I caught the smell of herbs.”
“Yes, madam, that I am. Please, sit.” He indicated the chair opposite him and stood from his own politely. He reseated himself once she was settled.
“Forgive me,” she said and extended her hand. “I am Cerise Alexandra,” she introduced, using her middle name. She had no idea if Drace’s name of MacKinnon had become known here after Hopa. She felt anonymity would be best.
“Roma Penn, at your service, madam. ‘Tis a pleasure,” he replied.
“Please, finish you meal. I apologize for interrupting it,” she said, waving daintily at his plate once he released her hand.
“I had thought you could assist me in finding someone, sir,” she began.
The man smiled indulgently at her. “I am an herbalist, not a tracker, madam. I do not see how I can aid you.”
“But you can, perhaps.” Cerise smiled at him. “My relative passed this way maybe twenty-two springs ago. She had a small baby with her and went to an herbalist for some medicine for the child.”
Cerise had no way of knowing if this was true or not, but figured that before a voyage of any length, someone taking care of a baby would want to stock up on possibly needed supplies for it. This gentleman looked to be old enough to have been in business those many years ago. She hoped the lies she spun were not reflected on her face. She continued on. “She recommended a particular herbalist, but for the life of me, I cannot remember his name.”
“I see many people a day, madam. I could not possibly remember each customer.”
“I understand, sir. No one could, I expect. The baby was an unusual child she told me. He was a Werren baby, with a star shaped birthmark upon his right hand.” Cerise touched the back of her own hand as she described it.
“Madam, I can not help you,” Master Penn began. “Wait…” he broke off, his gray eyes unfocused as he thought of past customers. He looked back at her, his face not nearly as friendly as before.
“Are you and this relative close, madam? And why would she recommend a particular herbalist?”
Something had triggered a memory and Cerise instinctively knew it wasn’t exactly pleasant. Treading carefully, she ventured forward.
“No, we are not really that close. Actually, I can barely tolerate the woman. But kin is kin, and while I cannot say I always wish to claim her, I must listen when she tries to be helpful. She said this particular herbalist was very knowledgeable and helpful.”
“I believe your kinswoman was untruthful to you, madam,” he declared, appearing a bit angry.
Cerise heard a step behind her. Before she could look up, Cearan’s deep voice spoke above her. “Is there a problem, my lady?”
Master Penn looked up to see the scarred face of a large Werren warrior who stood with one hand on the hilt of his sword.
“No, there is no problem. It would appear that my great aunt has caused more trouble.” She nodded conspiratorially at the herbalist. “She is not the nicest of people.”
“I should say not,” Master Penn said hotly. “She asked for…” he realized his voice was raised, and lowered it. “She asked for a potion to remove the babe’s birthmark. She did not even seem to care if the potion would cause the child pain—only that it work.”
Cerise paled slightly and Cearan put a hand on her shoulder to steady her.
“Was there something else I could help you with, my dear?” the man asked her.
“Yes, I believe I need something for a headache,” she answered truthfully.
Chapter Twelve
Cearan had his chance at Lexin the next morning in the stables when he went to check on Raven and the other horses. Lexin had not returned to the inn the previous night and Cearan had slept on the floor in Cerise’s room.
Between his back being sore from the floor, having listened to tears that Cerise had thought were silent and Lexin’s flare up from the night before, Cearan had blood in his eye.
Lexin was coming out of Marlhowh’s stall and saw Cearan walking down the barn aisle. He was astonished when Cearan pushed him hard against the stall door.
“What is this?” Lexin exclaimed. His surprise grew when Cearan took off his sword belt and hung it on a peg by the stall. His mail shirt followed.
Lexin pushed off the wall, his eyebrows together in confusion. “What is wrong with you, Cearan? Have you lost your mind?”
Cearan removed his shirt and stood in just his breeches and boots. “No cousin, but you have. Remove your weapons.”
“Are you challenging me?” Lexin asked, tensing as Cearan moved at him again.
Cearan gave him another push. “Yes. Disarm yourself or I will do it for you.”
“I will not fight you, Cearan,” Lexin returned as his back hit the stall wall once more.
Cearan reached forward and unbuckled Lexin’s belt with an angry jerk, catching it before it fell. He hung it with his own sword
“Remove your mail,” he ordered, his voice low with his temper.
“No. I will not fight you,” Lexin repeated, pushing off the wall once more.
“As you wish, cousin. You may stand and take it for all I care.” Cearan followed his statement with a right fist to Lexin’s jaw that staggered him.
Lexin looked at him in surprise, his hand going to touch his jaw. “By Arahtok’s Mane, what is wrong with you?”
Cearan’s answer was a hit to Lexin’s mouth so hard that it rocked his head back.
Lexin stepped away from the well, touching his mouth and coming back with blood on his fingers. He growled angrily and jerked his mail shirt off.
“I do not wish to fight with you, Cearan. Cease this nonsense at once.”
Cearan stepped in and threw a hard left into Lexin’s ribs. Lexin grunted with the blow and moved away, but Cearan followed and began to systematically pummel Lexin.
“Fight me!” he yelled.
“No!” Lexin roared back and took the beating with no move to attack and little effort to defend himself.
Cearan hit him hard twice in the kidneys. Lexin went to his knees in the barn aisle.
“Why will you not fight?” Cearan said hoarsely over him, breathing hard.
Lexin gasped for air through his swollen nose. “I cannot. Please Cearan.Do not ask it of me. Just finish it and leave.”
Cearan grabbed Lexin by his hair, jerking his face up. “Why? Are you a coward?” he growled at him.
Something in Lexin gave in at that word, thrown at him now twice, and he growled a lion’s growl in reply. “I will not fight my own brother,” he hissed.
There was a pregnant pause, followed by, “What did you say?” Cearan gasped, still holding Lexin by his hair.
“You are my brother, not my cousin. I will not fight you,” Lexin answered weakly, sinking down onto his hands, spots of light dancing in his vision.
Cearan roughly released Lexin and stepped back. “You lie.”
“No, I do not. I speak true, may the gods forgive me.”
Cearan raised his fist to finish the fight, but one look at Lexin and he snarled angrily, grabbed his belongings and walked quickly out of the stable.
Cerise found Lexin propped against the stall door sometime later. “Holy Mother, what happened to you?” she cried out and dropped to her knees beside him, eyeing the blood splattered all over the front of his shirt.
Lexin opened the one eye he could see out of to meet her concerned gaze. “Leave me be,” he muttered through his torn mouth. He gingerly touched his teeth with his tongue. One was loose, but surprisingly that was it, the rest were intact.
“Who did this?” Cerise demanded, carefully touching his face.
“Let me alone.” He laid his head back and swallowed, and then looked at her again. “Please, Cerise.”
“I can’t leave you here like this,” she began.
He stopped her with a hand on her arm. “If you care for me at all Cerise, you will go away. Now.”
“I’d better go get Cearan,” she said, rising to her feet. She looked down at Lexin. Has he totally lost his mind? she wondered.
“I do not think he would care to come to my aid just now,” Lexin smirked, and with a groan, rose to his feet.
Cerise put her shoulder under his arm, keeping him from falling when his knees threatened to buckle. “Cearan did this? What does he look like?”
“Please Cerise. Do not make me laugh for it hurts too much.”
“Why is that funny?”
“Except for where he cut his knuckle on my tooth, I believe Cearan is unmarked. Leave your questions behind your teeth for now, little one.”
Cerise bit back the scalding retort she was about to give and walked with Lexin to h
er room. Thankfully, the common room was empty except for one serving girl cleaning off a table. Cerise beckoned her to follow them and once she had Lexin seated on a low stool, she sent the girl to Master Penn for antiseptic, pain relief and anti-swelling herbs.
Cerise pulled a chair close to him and washed the cuts on his mouth carefully. He hissed in a breath, despite her gentleness. Once his face was cleaned, she lifted the hem of his shirt.
“Oh good Lord,” she exclaimed and helped him remove the shirt. He was covered with the beginnings of bruises front and back.
“Do you think you have any broken ribs?” she asked him, looking closely at his side.
“I do not believe so, although I would wager I will piss blood later,” Lexin responded, arching slightly to ease the pain in his lower back.
“I think you need to lie down while I go see Cearan. He said he wanted to thrash you, but this is criminal. He could have killed you.”
“No, Cerise. I am a long way from dead. I am just sore and a thrashing is all this was. If he had been inclined to hurt me, I guarantee I would look a lot worse.” Lexin took her hand in his. “I will let you care for me for that is what women like to do, and then I will dress and go to the docks. A man I was drinking with last night remembers seeing our mysterious woman.”
“I can’t believe you,” Cerise said in exasperation. “You’re going to be black and blue from the waist up and you want to go out?” She shook her head in disbelief.
Lexin pulled Cerise closer and laid his cheek against her breast, his arms slipping around her waist to hold her there. “Cearan is angry with me just now. I think it best if I am scarce for awhile. I told him something I had not wished to reveal, but I did and it has hurt him. Causing him that pain wounds me far worse than his fists did.”
“What did you say to him?” Cerise asked softly, stroking his long hair in a soothing motion.
“I will not discuss it. That is for Cearan to reveal if he wishes. Just now he thinks that I lied and maybe he always will. He has been my closest friend all these years and now that friendship is no more. I…” Lexin sighed heavily against her. “…I do not know what will happen next, so I must attend my duties and continue our search.”
Lexin's Quest (Knights of Kismera Book 2) Page 9
