“But …” my stomach twisted. “He didn’t say goodbye.”
“He has been saying goodbye to you all evening, in his own way. Perhaps the words themselves were too painful for him,” she said simply.
“Why would words be painful?”
“You are young, and have little understanding of the minds of men. This is obvious from this ridiculous outburst.” Maerwynn frowned at me, and I felt shame burning on my tear-soaked cheeks. “Ulrich is going to kill his father, Ada. You have not encountered Damon of Donnau-Ries before, so you cannot possibly understand what your lover faces. But you should know that to take the life of the one who gave you life is a deplorable act, even if committed for the most noble of reasons. Ulrich is disrupting the order of things, the great chain of being that binds us all together. And when someone breaks the chain, the goddess is charged with putting it right again, and usually, that is by taking back what has been stolen. Even if Ulrich succeeds in killing his father, which is unlikely, he will probably not survive. The Goddess won’t allow it.”
“But—” I gulped. Ulrich had never talked about his mission as dangerous. He’d made it sound as though finding his father were easy, as easy as all the other brave acts he had committed in the past. In my head I saw Ulrich’s father as a stooped old man, slow and arthritic and easily overpowered by his strapping son. But the way Maerwynn was talking, Ulrich would be lucky to escape with his life.
“Oh yes, Ulrich learned everything he knows from that man. The same strength that pulses in his veins also fuels Damon’s fervour. But Ulrich is weak, because he feels empathy. Damon does not make the same mistake. His purpose is clear, his soul focused on one task and one task only – to rid the world of witches and those who harbour them. He will not hesitate to kill his own son if he felt it the righteous thing to do. Damon does not fear divine justice, for he knows that his God supports his grisly work.”
“Why did Ulrich not tell me this? Why did he leave me alone here, if he did not think he would come back?” I could feel a sickening panic rising in my stomach. My voice grew shrill.
“He left you in my care because I know how to draw out your power, and being able to harness your power is the key to yours – and Ulrich’s – survival.“ Maerwynn blew out the candle, plunging us into deep, unsettling darkness.
My heart sank. I was already afraid of Maerwynn. I didn’t want to be alone in the dark with her.
“Light the candle.” Maerwynn’s voice commanded from the gloom.
“Excuse me?”
“You are a witch, yes? Ulrich told me about the fire you summoned from your fingertips. This means you are a flame witch, just like your aunt Bernadine. You can create the spark that ignites a fire. So do it. Light the candle.”
“I don’t know how. I can’t really do magic. All I can do is make potions to heal. The fire was… an accident. I was so worried about Ulrich, and I—”
“There are no accidents in the craft. Now, light up the darkness, little Ada. Show me that I am not wrong about you.”
I placed my hand over the wick. I tried to clear my head of all thoughts, to focus on the image of a bright light rising out from the wick. But, I was too nervous. I could feel Maerwynn’s eyes boring into me through the darkness. I raised my hand and pointed my fingers toward the flame, but instead of feeling the hot surge of power run down my arm like I had before, I just felt awkward and silly.
“You’re not concentrating,”
“It’s hard,” I cried.
“If it was easy, everyone would do it, and the candle makers would go out of business,” said Maerwynn.
I sighed, and raised the candle once more. This time, I cupped the wick with my hand, staring in on it so that I could no longer see the outline of Maerwynn against the thin moonlight. I closed my eyes, picturing the candle in my mind, and behind it, Ulrich’s face, his strong jaw set in a look of determination as he rode Willow hard through the woods, returning to his father, travelling to his doom.
My stomach twisted as I pictured Ulrich’s body lying dead on a plinth, his body bruised and beaten- those hands that had given me so much pleasure mashed and torn from the torture devices. Rage burned inside of me. His father did this. His father will do this.
I took that rage and balled it up inside of me, and I pushed it from my stomach, along my arms, and up through my fingers. My eyes flew open and I saw the bright orange flame flicker up from the wick. I’d done it! I’d actually worked magic with intention. I had willed a flame into being and it had sprung to life.
My hands trembling with excitement, I held out the candle to Maerwynn. I couldn’t stop beaming. Maerwynn took the candle and turned it in her hand. “Very good,” she said, and I detected the faintest hint of a smile in her voice. “We will make a witch of you yet, Ada.”
I grinned in reply.
Maerwynn waved her hand at the cabins up the bank. “It’s been a strange night for both of us, Ada. Perhaps we should retire to sleep again?”
Although it was phrased as a question, it was a command. I nodded, and followed Maerwynn as she ascended the stone steps cut into the bank. She walked so quickly I had to jog to keep up.
“Maerwynn,” I huffed as I stepped alongside her on the path. “Can I ask you a question?”
She lifted her chin, her eyes boring into mine. “Yes?”
“Why do you hate Ulrich so much? What happened between the two of you in the past?”
“I do not hate him,” she whispered. She opened her mouth to say more, but seemed to change her mind, snapping her mouth shut, then turning away, her long braids whipping around her head as she darted back into her own cabin.
I stared down at the candle in my hand, the dancing flame casting a long shadow across the ground. I wasn’t certain what I’d said that had upset Maerwynn’s cool indifference, but I had a sinking feeling it was vital to my future safety to understand her actions.
Ulrich
Willow galloped through the dark trees, her body disappearing into the gloom, so she appeared to be part of the night itself. Trunks and branches whizzed by in a blur. On her back, I gripped the reins with fingers cramped and frozen from hours in the saddle, my sword bouncing painfully against my leg, and the bags of provisions Maerwynn had prepared for me rubbing against the saddle. The knife she’d given me sat in a leather pouch on my belt, and its presence weighed heavily on me- a constant reminder of the task ahead.
The trees began to thin out, and I could just make out a thin sliver of orange light breaking across the horizon. The sun was making her daily approach into the world. My eyelids drooped. I hadn’t stopped for sleep, desperate to put as many miles as possible between myself and Maerwynn’s lands. I didn’t want Ada to come out to find me, and if I met anyone on the road, I didn’t want to be associated in any way with Maerwynn.
Willow’s tongue hung out, and she snorted in protest. I slowed her to a trot, wrapping my cloak around my shoulders to ward off the last of the night’s chill. Now that the wind no longer whistled by my ears, I could hear a faint roar in the background. A running stream. Willow neighed, and nodded her head angrily. I slowed her to a walk and directed her head through a thicket of blackberries until we came out on the banks of a wide stream. I dismounted Willow and let her drink while I washed and filled both my water skins.
I was just replacing the stoppers on the skins and strapping them both on the saddle, when I heard a branch snap behind me. My hand flew to my sword. I looked up, scanning the line of trees for any sign of life, my ears trained on the slightest rustle or snap.
Nothing.
Sighing, I returned to my task. It was probably a fox or hare, making its way through the undergrowth. Willow finished her drink and snorted with satisfaction, her head shaking as she tried to dry out the water from her mane.
“You’re a beautiful creature, you know that.” I cooed to Willow as I stroked her mane. “I’m so pleased you’re with me—”
Another branch snapped. My head snapped u
p, and this time I caught a flash of grey darting behind a tree. The shape was too large to be anything but human. As silently as I could, I reached across Willow’s back, and grabbed my sword.
“Are you hungry, Willow?” I asked the horse, trying to keep my voice light and even. Willow nodded in reply. I took a step toward the trees, keeping my sword low, my body coiled, ready to lunge forward should the villain present himself.
“I’ve got some apples in the pouch for you. Just let me cut one up,” I spoke over my shoulder, using my sleeve to muffle my voice slightly so I sounded further away. I crept closer to the tree on the edge of the clearing, my feet light against the snow on the ground, hiding my approach. I could see the shadow of the man behind the tree trunk, the line of his broad shoulder hunched down as low as he could. A swift cut from my sword would have him thinking twice about spying on me.
With a cry, I lunged forward, swinging my sword down at the man’s exposed shoulder. With a cry he rolled to the side, and my blade buried itself in the tree. I yanked on the hilt, but it wouldn’t budge. I left it wobbling there, and leapt at the man, grabbing his collar and drawing my fist back to take the first blow.
“Argh!” The man raised his hands to his face, shielding his face with his hands. “Is this any way to greet your oldest friend?”
The voice sounded familiar.
“Tjard!” I cried, lowering my fist. He lowered his hands also, his familiar sparkling eyes staring back at me. I dropped his collar and offered a hand to help him up. “You idiot. I could have killed you.”
He grinned as he got to his feet, and took a bow. I slapped him on the back, realizing with a start just how much my heart soared to see him. Was I really lonely out here in the woods with only Willow for company?
Tjard tweaked the blade of my sword. It shuddered comically. “I see you have as much skill with the blade as always. I’m amazed you actually managed to sink your sword into something.”
“My aim is fine.” I growled in reply, cracking a smile despite myself. “I was only trying to spare your life.”
“And if I hadn’t moved when I had?”
“Then I would have taken your ears off.” I grinned. “Why have you come here?”
Tjard stared at me blankly. “Surely you jest? I thought it was obvious. I am joining you.”
I sighed. “Then you have come all this way for nothing. I’m no longer a Scharfrichter, Tjard. You are relieved of your servitude to me, and I’m not endangering a friend for the sake of my own personal quest. You should return to Maerwynn and Gussalen and live out your days as—”
“—as a slave in the Haven,” Tjard laughed bitterly. “I do not think so. Gussalen is very comely, sure, but she only has need of one of my swords. My arm aches to swing steel again. My place is by your side, Ulrich. It always has been. Frankly, I’m a little offended you just ran off without me in the first place. And besides, the very fact I was able to sneak up on you just now shows that you’re in terrible need of me.”
“Do you even know what battle I’m fighting?”
“Maerwynn didn’t say, but if I had to guess,” Tjard gripped the hilt of my sword, planted his feet against the trunk of the tree, and with a grunt, slid the blade free. “I’d say you were going to find and kill your father. That is to say, we are going to find and kill him.”
“Then why did you hide from me and stalk me in the shadows? Why did you not simply approach me on the road?”
“Because I know you. You would be so worried about putting me in danger, that you would have sent me straight back to that bloody Maerwynn.” Tjard handed me back the sword. “I was waiting until you needed me, like when you got your blade stuck in a tree.”
I grunted in reply, not wanting to acknowledge he was right. “Very well, then. What provisions have you brought?”
Tjard whistled. Through the trees trotted Sycamore, her long black mane trailing behind her. When she stopped in front of Tjard, I noticed her back was laden with sacks and pots. Tjard had ransacked Maerwynn’s stores – a dangerous, reckless move, one that would keep us well fed for the rest of our journey.
“I’ve also brought my whetstone.” Tjard grinned. “I’m going to need to get to work on that blade. Someone’s been using it to chop wood.”
“You rotten, stealing bastard. Maerwynn will never forgive me for this,” I moaned, running my fingers through Sycamore’s mane. She would notice the supplies missing that very morning. I wondered if all the miles placed between us were distance enough to protect us from her wrath.
“And that would be different, how?”
“A fair point.” I patted Tjard on the shoulder, then swung myself up on Willow’s back. “Welcome back, my friend. Let us move quickly onward.”
Ada
“I don’t like this,” Bernadine said as she brushed Aubrey’s hair until it shone.
“I don’t either,” Aubrey winced as the teeth of the comb caught the knots. “But we have little choice. We have only two more days until we lose our powers. We need to find a man, unless we want to be powerless.”
“Ada should be going. She’s the youngest, the prettiest. She should not leave this duty to you.”
“Ada is with Ulrich. She must stay faithful to him.” Aunt Aubrey said. “And thank you for the implication I am no longer beautiful.”
“I didn’t mean that. Stop being so sensitive—”
“I’m doing this, Bernadine, whether you like it or not.”
We were gathered with Maerwynn, Brunhild, and a few of the other women around the cooking fire, peeling vegetables for the evening meal. I listened to my aunts bicker, my stomach churning with guilt. Aunt Aubrey was going into the nearest village, in order to find a man to sleep with. It had been four days now since Ulrich left, which meant we were running out of time again. Aubrey hadn’t even asked me if I would do the duty, she’d simply saddled one of Maerwynn’s horses, and packed herself a meal of bread and cheese.
“It’s a pity we have no men here for you,” Brunhild said. “That would be a fortuitous arrangement.”
I blushed, and Brunhild laughed. She was referring to an incident the previous evening, where we were sharing a horn of sweet mead beside the fire. Over the past week, Brunhild and I found ourselves together more and more, and conversation flowed freely between us. She was two years my senior, with a wild mane of red hair that flowed all the way down her back, and sparkling blue-green eyes that revealed her thirst for mischief. She reminded me of Rebekah in some ways, but in one crucial aspect she was utterly different – she seemed to genuinely want to be my friend. With Ulrich gone and my aunts bickering, I needed that now.
Brunhild had been fishing for details about Ulrich’s dungeon. “I’ve heard it’s a real den of debauchery,” she said, giggling as she nudged my arm with her elbow. Apparently, I wasn’t the only witch in the Haven who had spent hours strapped on the rack in Ulrich’s presence. That made sense, as Ulrich told me he’d set free over a hundred witches. But it didn’t stop my body seething with jealousy at the thought of other women being in the dungeon. That was our place. I knew I was being ridiculous, for I had only recently come in to Ulrich’s life, but I didn’t like to think of him being with another, sharing with her the dark secrets with which he had so lovingly tortured me.
Wanting to change the subject away from Ulrich’s appetites, I asked Brunhild what the women in the Haven did for sexual release without a ready supply of men. “Oh, we have our ways,” she smiled. “Like Ulrich, we make do with what we have on hand.”
When I’d first seen the three male servants wandering through the Haven, I’d assumed part of their duties was to provide sexual services to Maerwynn and her coven. But when I asked Brunhild about them, she’d called one of them over and lifted his loincloth, revealing his naked thighs and a strange, twisted deformity where his cock should have been. The man was a eunuch.
“But then how—?” I was mortified. His face red with shame, the man yanked his cloth from Brunhild’s h
ands, and scampered away. Brunhild broke down in peals of laughter.
“Maerwynn’s carnal activities do not require men,” Brunhild told me, a salacious grin on her face. “She has taught me much about the sensual powers of women.”
“Do you mean the women make love to each other?” I was aghast. Rebekah had spoken about that sort of activity before, and rumours occasionally passed around the village of some Baron’s wife caught in bed with her maidservant, but I’d never really thought it was real. I mean, with Ulrich, everything sort of seemed to fit. How do things fit together when you’re both the same...
Brunhild must have seen my expression, for she grinned and leaned forward, running her hand up my thigh. “Don’t look so shamed, Ada. If you have any questions, I’m happy to teach you anything you want to know.”
“Um … no, thanks.” My cheeks burned with heat. Brunhild laughed gleefully. “I think I’ll just wait for Ulrich to return.”
“As you wish. You’ll miss out on all the fun, though.”
Now, watching my aunts fuss over Aubrey’s departure, the conversation with Brunhild came flooding back to me. I could feel my cheeks reddening just thinking about it. Brunhild reached across and squeezed my thigh, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. She looked so pleased with herself that the whole things suddenly seemed hilarious. I couldn’t control myself, and let out a bellow of laughter. This set Brunhild off, and soon we clutched at each other, consumed by giggles.
“What are you two cackling about?” Bernadine snapped. “This is serious business that Aubrey shouldn’t even have to do in the first place. It sounds as if Ada is well over the loss of her witch hunter.”
“You wouldn’t know a thing about it,” I snapped back, my good mood instantly vanishing. “You’ve never loved anyone in your whole life, have you? You don’t care that I’m hurting. That’s why you don’t care that Ulrich is gone. That’s why you’re so bitter and why you never raise a finger to help anyone—”
Coven: a dark medieval paranormal romance (Witches of the Woods Book 2) Page 7
