VirtualHeaven

by Ann Lawrence

  “No,” Kered said, turning to her. “Since only you will use it, Vad has no need to know of it.”

  “Is this the trust we spoke of?” Vad fisted his hands.

  “This is not about trust. This is about danger. Maggie does not know how the weapon works or how long it works. ‘Tis pointless to speculate on its use. If you trust me, you will accept my word. It is a strange weapon, and ‘tis for Maggie’s protection, and only her protection—”

  “This is so stupid.” Maggie halted at the thunderous look on Kered’s face. “I mean, you are being unreasonable. You could take it with you and without bloodshed—your bloodshed—bring back the cup.”

  “I will seek the cup with traditional weapons.”

  “Many have sought the cup the traditional way,” Vad said, then pointed out to sea, “and it is still on N’Olava.”

  “That is because greedy men sought it. I seek it to bring peace.”

  “And Samoht and his cohorts will not covet it for its value?” Vad snorted.

  “Aye, they will covet the cup, but it will be safely in the High Priest’s hands after I present it. The priests may guard it then. Samoht will find little coin in a holy relic.”

  “So, you think you will succeed because you seek the cup with a pure heart?”

  “Ah, Vad, what man’s heart is ever pure?”

  Maggie stamped her foot. The two men looked at her in surprise. “That is enough.” She pointed the weapon at a pile of brush and pushed the red button. The pile vanished, leaving a smoking black spot on the pure white sand.

  Vad stared open-mouthed. “By the sword!” He looked at the small gun with new respect.

  “Now do you understand? You must take it. I can hide in a cave if anyone comes. Convince him, Vad,” Maggie ordered.

  “May I use it?” Vad asked, with eagerness in both his voice and his posture. “I am an expert at most weapons.”

  “Yes, you take it,” Maggie said, holding it out. Her calculation was correct. Kered’s huge hand swept in and snatched it off her palm before Vad even came close.

  “I will hold it.” With ill-grace, Kered bent over his weapons. “You win this skirmish, Maggie. ‘Tis a triumph that may see you dead, but you have won—for now.”

  Her palms were as sweaty as her brow. Maggie fanned her shirt in the heat and watched the red sun. She held her hand horizontal to the horizon as Kered had taught her. One finger width still remained until the sun disappeared—one-quarter hour. The loneliest and longest evening would finally be behind her. She nursed the small torch behind the rocks. Kered had said to wait until the sun was completely below the horizon.

  At the time they had agreed upon, she flitted from pile to pile, setting each bundle of dry sticks ablaze. Out of breath, she sought shelter in the cave where the horses were tethered. To fill the time, she tried to braid her hair, but her hands were shaky and the leather thong broke. Muttering a curse under her breath, she opened Kered’s pack in search of another thong. She fell back on her heels in shock. There lay the gun, the gun he’d promised to take—and use. She ran to the cave entrance and stared out across the amethyst sea to the isle.

  In her heart, she knew he’d left it for her, so she could protect herself in case they didn’t return. All her dreams came to haunt her in her exhausted and nervous state. The blood on his body glistened anew. The bonds that held him now held Vad, too. Was this what the dreams had meant? Had they meant capture by the N’Olavan guards? Had they meant torture for daring to try to take the cup?

  Feeling utterly helpless, Maggie sank to the sand. They had three swords and assorted knives. They had no idea of the number of guards and archers they would find.

  Windsong nudged her shoulder. Through brimming eyes she looked at the stallion. He seemed to reproach her for her lack of faith. She stood on tiptoe and wrapped her arms about the horse’s neck and hugged him as if he were Kered.

  “Tell me what to do,” she whispered. Even now the guards could be killing the man she loved. Windsong nudged her again. Her foot stumbled against Kered’s pack and its contents spilled at her feet.

  With shaky hands, Maggie stripped off Kered’s shirt. She stood shivering and nearly naked in the chill, dark cave and pulled on Kered’s black breeches. She wrapped her belt about her waist and rolled the water-stiffened leather about her ankles. All Kered’s shirts were white. Vad’s pack held even brighter finery. There was little choice. She slung the fur cloak about her bare shoulders, then tied her boots about her neck. Lastly, she rubbed soot on her cheeks.

  The tide was out. The four orbs cast a net of silver sparks on the sea, a sea so dark it lay like ebony glass before her. The shining moons magnified the glowing sandy path that lay between her and the isle—and Kered and Vad.

  Maggie stepped carefully into an ankle-deep pool of purple water, gripping the gun as if it were as precious as a life preserver. She strode purposefully toward the isle, always at the dark, watery edge of the sandy path. It was like trudging along the edges of a shallow sandbar. At one point, the shore dropped from beneath her feet, and she almost screamed aloud as she flailed about in the depths, regaining her balance, yet losing her boots. She stood in silence and watched them float away in the direction of the silent isle. Nothing stirred. She looked back. The fires lit along the shore beckoned her, but she knew that no one tended them, that no one was there to help her.

  Sweat soaked her body as she struggled on. She felt exposed, bathed in the lambent light of the orbs as she walked. Occasionally, the path rose up from the water and lay glistening beneath her feet. Steeling herself, she would step away from safety and holding the gun aloft, sink into the black waters and swim clumsily along until the path sank again to a more concealing depth.

  As she drew near the rocky isle, Maggie floated off the shoal with a clumsy crawl. Hampered by the weight of the cloak, she swam into the shelter of shadows edging the shore. Her feet touched pebbles. Her thighs trembled and her calves knotted as she crawled along an overhanging bank. The pebbles glowed like opals in the silvery shimmer of one of the orbs. A scent of wood smoke reached her.

  The blood pounding in her ears made listening difficult. Finally, her heart calmed and the gentle lapping waves and rustling of leaves was all she heard. Then it came to her. A man shouted. More men joined in. She couldn’t hear their words, just recognized their panic. Throwing aside her fears, she crept into the foliage in search of the men she now knew were under siege.

  A stone’s throw from where she knelt stood a temple. Four gleaming marble pillars shone in the orb-glow. Two guards stood alertly at their posts. Maggie knew which direction to take, for the guards both peered anxiously off to her left.

  Stealthily, she made her way through the lush foliage. It snatched at her cloak and slipped along Kered’s leather breeches. Her feet hurt, but she didn’t have time to tend them. The smell of wood smoke grew choking, and her eyes began to sting.

  Men garbed in black and purple uniforms ran about trying to put out small fires in the dense woods. Maggie assumed that Kered and Vad had set them. Quietly, she waited. The panicking men were making little headway with the flames. Grateful for their noisy efforts, Maggie slipped unnoticed past them deeper into the woods.

  Maggie halted as she heard the clash of swords up ahead. She peered through the leaves and gasped as she saw Kered fighting four swordsmen. Vad circled and tried to engage two of them to draw them away from his friend. The guards, clad like devils in black, flitted from Vad’s sword, eluding his efforts, and melting away to reappear from another direction.

  Vad’s gleaming hair and the flash of orb-light on Kered’s sword were all too easily seen. Their enemies were dangerously hidden as they moved between tree trunks to keep Kered in the clearing and themselves partially shielded. The clash of metal on metal anchored her to her tree and yet, she had no clear target at which to aim.

  Although Kered had but two men to worry about, as Vad once again protected his friend’s back, the two guards fought
with a ferocious strength that frightened her. She raised the gun, then lowered it. Vad had stepped between her and Kered’s foes. She winced as a guard’s sword flicked a line of blood across Kered’s arm.

  A hand grasped her cloak and flung her to the ground. The gun slithered from her fingers into the leafy mold beneath her feet.

  A tall, bearded guard stood over her, a sneer curling his lip. “A woman.” He spat. The spittle hit her face and anger heated her temper to boiling.

  With a hard jab of his boot, the guard kicked her onto her back. She screamed as pain exploded in her shoulder.

  Maggie heard an unearthly roar. Sure that Gulap was pouncing, she curled into a tiny ball, expecting claws. Kered leapt over her. With one sweep of his sword, Kered disarmed the hovering guard. Maggie’s attacker groaned as Kered snatched him off his feet and heaved him into the two guards who had pursued him. The men lay dazed in a pile of arms and legs attempting to extricate themselves.

  Maggie stifled a shriek of fear as Kered grasped the guard on the top of the pile and flung him toward Vad. Vad’s two opponents, still hesitant to attack him, cowered away from their flying comrade. Kered kicked Maggie’s attacker just as he’d kicked her, flinging him ignominiously onto his back, the sickening crunch of breaking bones sounding like brittle twigs snapping. Kered stepped astride the prostrate guard, pricking the epaulettes on his shoulder with the point of the sacred sword and piercing the white skin beneath the man’s uniform. “So, Captain, you have made a grave mistake. I could easily kill you. Call off your men or die,” Kered ordered.

  “Stand off,” the guard screamed as blood soaked his uniform. The other guards froze like statues with weapons drawn, wary looks on their faces. Vad used his sword to keep the other guards upon their backs.

  “Have your men throw down their weapons—now,” Kered commanded. The captain ordered his men to disarm with an ill-concealed hatred.

  Maggie struggled to her feet. Her shoulder ached, but she could flex her fingers and lift her arm.

  Kered did not take his eyes from the man at his feet as he commanded her. “Get into the trees. There are many more soldiers about.”

  “My gun,” she whispered, going down on her hands and knees and plucking it from the leaves.

  “Do as I say.” Kered bent and slowly disarmed the supine guard of his remaining weapon, a long, tapered dagger. “We seem to have captured the leader. Vad, gather their arms and secure them.”

  Vad moved about the clearing collecting swords and knives, then thrust the bouquet of weapons into Maggie’s arms. She dumped them into a pile in the black shadows beneath a tangled mass of tree roots.

  “You will never take the cup,” the guard at Kered’s feet snarled as blood ran down the side of his throat.

  Kered glanced about as Vad swiftly tied the hands and feet of the disarmed men. “It seems your men will do naught to stop us,’’ he said.

  Just then, a crackle of twigs heralded a rush of men. They charged past Maggie, shoving her aside in their hurry to aid their friends. A black horde of shadows fanned out before Kered and Vad. The two friends circled, shoulder to shoulder, swords ready.

  Kered and Vad hadn’t a chance against so many. The guards considered a woman of so little danger, they turned their backs to her.

  Maggie took careful aim and just as a man charged into the clearing she fired on blue, sweeping the orb-lit ground from behind the guards. Like duckpins they fell, rolling atop each other, piling over the leader and his fellows who lay bound back to back.

  Gasping for air, she looked about. A silence had fallen thick as a blanket of snow in winter.

  “Are they dead?” Vad cried.

  “No, just sleeping,” Maggie said, her voice shaky as she stepped from behind her tree.

  “Maggie!” Kered bellowed, charging her like a mad bull. He skidded to a halt.

  Her heart was in her mouth. Blood soaked his sleeve and she thought she’d never seen anyone who looked so wonderful or so angry. “You’re wounded,” she cried, reaching out to touch the crimson stains along his arm. Her fingers came away wet and sticky. She flung herself into his arms.

  Kered could feel Maggie’s heaving breasts against his chest. The warmth of her and his shock at seeing the guard kick her so viciously made him squeeze the breath from her. He yanked her head back by her long braid. “You disobeyed me. You willfully disobeyed me,” he growled. He tasted the metallic bite of blood as their mouths clashed. Their tongues tangled. He lifted her against him. A spiraling sensation of falling made him stagger. The press of her against him, the taste of her, his fear for her coursed in a savage pounding through his veins. A longing, held at bay for weeks, took charge of his senses. As a starving man, he feasted on her.

  “When you have finished punishing her, may we get the cup?” Vad asked, stepping from the trees.

  Kered dropped Maggie to her feet and pushed her away more roughly than he had intended. Her wet cloak shifted from her shoulder. A shaft of orb-glow touched her breast. Its snowy gleam and dark peak made him snatch the fur about her. His hands gentled, apologizing for his roughness as he stroked her cheek. He did not need to see the tears brimming in her eyes to know he had hurt her.

  With a final silent atonement, he lifted her hand and kissed her palm. “Come. Who knows how long these men may sleep? The cup still lies under guard.”

  “Wait. We must know how many men are loose,” Vad said, walking about the slumbering enemy, counting heads and shaking his own in open amazement. “We found their barracks,” he explained to Maggie. “There were beds aplenty for a full company of men. There are twelve here. Two at the temple…who knows how many archers on the shoreline?”

  “Then we go with caution,” Kered said, taking Maggie’s hand. They stealthily made their way through the dense foliage, avoiding the well-trod path. The temple guards stood in fearful alertness, their eyes trained in the direction of the rising smoke that trailed above the trees.

  Kered had not spoken to Maggie, did not trust his words, but he nodded when she raised one eyebrow in question.

  She fired.

  The temple guards crumpled to the ground.

  “By the sword,” Vad cried. He went down on one knee and kissed her hand. “‘Tis a magical goddess you are.”

  “Oh, Vad,” Maggie said, smiling finally at the effusive gesture.

  “Are you quite finished? There are more soldiers about.” Kered dragged Vad to his feet. “Her weapon is the marvel, not her.” No, he thought, he was lying, mainly to himself. Maggie was the marvel, her weapon but an adjunct to her. There was no way she could have come to help them but by walking. The danger of it, the knowledge that she risked much to bring him the weapon, made his stomach clench. He knew she had come to bring the weapon to him, for him. But seeing Vad on his knees, kissing her hand, smashed through his tolerance. The grinding jealousy, a choking emotion he had never experienced before, only added to his burden and made a new enemy that he must fight.

  Every muscle of Kered’s body screamed for rest. He quivered with a need to snap someone or something, but it must not be Vad. Wearily, he turned away.

  They moved cautiously down the dark and cool cave corridor. The flickering torch lights cast eerie shadows on the walls. A half-naked warrior leapt out at them as they rounded a bend.

  Maggie swallowed a shriek.

  “Calm yourself,” Kered hissed, grasping her arm. “‘Tis paintings of our ancestors.”

  The ghostly light lent a lifelike glow to the ancient warrior, clad in a loincloth. She took a deep breath to calm herself.

  Kered and Vad held their weapons ready and started at every sound. Something scurried across her foot and she stifled another yell. She would not be a coward just because the cave was dark and spooky.

  As they moved deeper into the bowels of the cave, the warriors who marched along the walls became uniformed, resplendent in fancy black and purple costumes. Their spears gave way to swords and knives.

  “Ruhtra,”
Kered whispered, his hand touching a wall painting.

  Maggie studied the ancient ancestor. The resemblance escaped her. She saw a bearded man in golden robes depicted as a mighty warrior, the famed sword held aloft in one huge hand. Whatever romantic figure she’d pictured in her mind, it had not been this portly gentleman with a belly Santa Claus would envy.

  “Come,” he urged her. They stepped into a large chamber. On a marble altar at the center of the room stood a silver cup. Its thick neck, at least two inches in diameter, was hollow in the center. Suspended there, as in Maggie’s pendant and the sword at Kered’s hip, hung a lump of turquoise stone. Eight strands entwined it and held it captive in the shining base. Maggie drew the pendant from beneath the cloak and away from her skin. It had become warm, almost hot to the touch.

  Kered stepped forward and stood before the cup. He hesitated and looked back at Vad. Both circled the chamber, searching the gloomy corners, sending rodents scurrying in all directions.

  Vad remained reverently several steps behind Kered as he again approached the altar. “How arrogantly they leave the cup displayed.”

  “What are we waiting for?” Maggie whispered to the men.

  “One must ask the proper questions to take the cup,” Kered said. A falling rock made them all jump and step back a pace.

  “And if you don’t ask the proper questions?” Maggie hissed.

  Kered ignored her. Vad supplied the answer. “‘Tis said that he who asks the wrong questions will surely die.”

  Maggie clutched the pendant in fear at his words. “Don’t touch it,” Maggie cried, grabbing Kered’s shirt sleeve.

  “Have faith.” Kered gently disentangled himself and smiled at her. Gently, he smoothed back her hair that had tumbled from its braid. He took the pendant from her fingers and studied it, stepping back to do so, then clutched it tightly in his fist. “We have come this far, let it be finished.”

  He opened her cloak and placed the necklace inside, his hand pressing the warm metal to her heart. His fingers lingered there, then tugged the edges of the cloak closed about her throat.