I bundled my torn dress around me as best I could, and followed Ulrich outside the cabin. In the daylight I could clearly see that the dark horse that had conveyed us last night was Willow. She inclined her head toward me, and I scratched her head affectionately. “I am sorry for not recognizing you,” I told her. “But you blend so perfectly with the night.”
“That is why she is the perfect horse for me” said Ulrich, flipping the corner of his black cloak over his shoulder. “Tjard has Sycamore.”
Ulrich helped me up on to the saddle, then settled himself down behind me. As he reached around to grab the reins, he kissed a trail up the side of my neck, sending shivers of delight down my body. I pressed myself back against him, grinding my ass cheeks against his thighs. I knew the danger we faced was beyond measure, but I didn’t want to leave the cabin. I didn’t want to return to running and hiding and being afraid. I wanted Ulrich, again and again.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Ulrich growled in my ear, his breath tickling me more. “Things could go badly for you.”
Feeling bold, I wriggled harder.
SNAP. Something stung my thigh. I glanced down. Ulrich held a black riding crop in his hand, the tip resting against my thigh, where he had brought it down. My skin smarted where the tip had tapped me.
“Just because we are in the woods, does not mean I have forgotten the ways of the dungeon,” Ulrich whispered against my earlobe. The dungeon. Our special place. I sighed deeply, remembering all the things he had done to me there, the way he had whipped me and made it beautiful. The way I wanted him to whip me again now.
But it was not to be. With one hand on the reins, Ulrich urged Willow onward, she started walking at a jaunty speed, and the movement ground me even harder against Ulrich. Strangely, the gait of the horse only seemed to excite me. She moved with a graceful rhythm, much like the rhythm Ulrich used when he pounded against me…
I could feel his cock pressed against me, hard as stone. I licked my lips, relishing this playful, slightly dangerous game. This was the old Ulrich, the one I knew from the dungeon. He urged Willow onward, his voice rasping against my ear, his words tinged with the strain of his desire.
SNAP. Ulrich brought the whip down again on my other thigh. I winced as the pain arced through me, but it was quickly replaced by a throbbing between my legs. I wanted more.
Ulrich’s teeth grazed against my earlobe. Willow vaulted a fallen branch and as she landed, we bounced in the saddle and were ground together, even harder this time.
Ulrich flipped the whip in his hands, and moved the tip under my skirts, manoeuvring it so that it sat just between my legs. Having that thick leather shaft just sitting there made me ache even harder. I wanted him so badly that just the flick of the tip against me sent shivers through my whole body. I was already dripping wet and desperate for release.
As he urged Willow faster, Ulrich kept the tip of the whip just resting against me, so that every movement flicked and teased me. The trees whizzed by in a blur as my vision distorted, the heat of my approaching orgasm rising up through my belly.
As he bit down on my earlobe, Ulrich pressed the butt of the whip against my clit. I cried out. The world whipped past me in a blur and Willow drove onward, unheeding to my mewling. Ulrich began to twist the crop, grinding it against me. There was no softness about this, and yet, it was exactly what I wanted. Fire flared within my body as the orgasm drew nearer. I shoved back against him, my body bracing itself against the juddering horse.
Ulrich’s hand pressed against my lips. “Bite down,” he rasped in my ear.
I bit, as he thrust the tip of the crop against me one final time, and my body exploded with pleasure. The fire flared through my limbs, and I flopped about, out of control, the fear of falling only enhancing the thrill of the ride.
As the ecstasy wore away into a dull, warm ache, I slumped against the saddle. Ulrich’s arms wrapped around me and pulled me back against him. “You need to be careful,” he said, one arm holding me upright while the other held Willow’s reins. “Willow and I don’t want you to fall off.”
As the heat in my body faded, I glanced around us for the first time. We were trotting alongside the river, but I didn’t recognize any of the trees or landmarks. “Where are we?” I asked.
“About five miles west of the Haven.” said Ulrich. “We’ll be there within the hour.” I lay back against him, enjoying the warmth of his body, the hardness of his muscles, as he steered Willow around the larger rocks that marred our path.
We came to a clearing in the trees, giving us a view over the long forest valley, the stream winding through the thick trees. From the edge of the forest, I noticed a dark cloud curling upward. “What’s that?” I pointed.
Ulrich squinted. “Nothing good.” He patted the hilt of his sword, as if reassuring himself it was still there. ”We must hurry.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“That black cloud is smoke coming from the coven’s camp,” Ulrich said. “And if you listen, you can hear the faint sound of swords clashing against sword, and of horse hooves thundering down the valley. I don’t know how they’ve done it, but I think my father’s men might have overtaken us.”
I gasped. “My aunts are down there!”
Willow flew down the valley, her black mane streaming behind her. I hunched low in the saddle, allowing Ulrich’s bulk to envelop me. My heart hammered against my chest.
As we neared the camp, my fears turned to cold, stark reality. In the distance I heard the unmistakable sounds of men laughing, of women screaming. My blood turned cold. I barely registered the last mile we rode to camp, the only thought in my mind was of my aunts. Were they safe?
Willow thundered into the valley and raced into the camp. Tears sprung to my eyes to see what they had made of it. The perfect tiny huts dashed to pieces, their roofs stoven in with battle axes. Fires leapt from tree to tree, their flames darting dangerously close to Willow’s feet as she stepped around them. I saw the hut my aunts were sleeping in, up on the crest of the hill, ablaze with great orange flames. A gang of men circled it, swords raised, bellowing something into the flames.
“No!” I screamed. Hot rage surged through my body. I took that rage and pulled it close to me, gathering it into my heart, where all the fond memories of my aunts resided. I pulled and pulled until my whole chest was a fiery ball of anger. And before I had time to consider my actions I pushed with my mind, and the rage soared out through my fingers, hurtling toward the men.
The flames leapt outward from the cabin, knocking down the men. Their triumphant bellows turned to screams as the flames consumed their clothing and tore at their flesh. Bodies flailed everywhere, their screams assaulting me. The smell of burning flesh permeating the smoke-clogged air.
I felt no remorse as I watched them burn, only cold, bitter anger.
One man rolled down the hill, bouncing down the beautiful steps Maerwynn’s women had sculpted. He pulled himself to his feet and staggered into the water. But even there, he still cried with agony as his skin burned. These were not ordinary flames. The water did nothing to quench them.
We dismounted and raced through the chaos toward the cabin. Ulrich reached the house before me. “Aubrey! Bernadine!” He called. Aubrey’s stricken face appeared at the doorway, holding her skirts tight around her in an attempt to keep them free of the flames. “It’s Bernadine,” she croaked. “She’s collapsed. I cannot move her.”
Ulrich grabbed Aubrey’s thin wrist and pulled her from the flaming building. He shoved her into my arms, then ducked in through the low door and emerged a few moments later carrying the limp body of Bernadine.
“No!” I cried as I saw my aunt flopping in his arms, her eyes closed, her arthritic hands relaxed. Ulrich carried her to the edge of the steps, as far away from the house as we could get, and there he set her down.
Aubrey laid her sister’s body out, tilting her head back and opening her mouth. She placed her hands on Bernadine’s chest, and cl
osed her eyes. I thought she was going to reach her fingers into Bernadine’s mouth and tickle her throat, which is what the village doctor did whenever someone stopped breathing. But instead, Aubrey began to chant. Her words were so quiet I could not make them out. As she chanted, she pressed her hands down on Bernadine’s chest, stimulating her heart beat.
Tears streamed down Aubrey’s face as she pumped harder, her mouth chocking on the words. Bernadine didn’t move, didn’t stir. Her face grew pale, tinged with a horrid blue I knew to be a sign of approaching death.
I placed my hands on top of hers. A warm rush of energy slid up my arms. I pushed again with my mind, forcing the heat in my body back down through my fingers, back into Bernadine.
Don’t die. Please don’t die.
Just as I was ready to sink to my knees in despair, Bernadine sat up, coughing violently. Aubrey sobbed with relief, throwing her arms around her sister and crushing her against her breast. I sank against Ulrich, my own body wracked with relieved sobs.
“Allright, allright.” Bernadine croaked, trying to clamber to her feet. “Give a witch some air.”
I stepped back. Ulrich stood beside me, his fingers searching for mine.
“Where are they now?” Aubrey asked, as her eyes darted around.
“It looks as if Maerwynn’s archers have chased them over the hill,” Ulrich said, his own gaze scanning the destruction. “We must move soon, for they will be back to capture any survivors.”
Behind me, I heard a horrifying cry, a sound like the soul being sucked down a sinkhole. I turned, dreading what horror I would encounter next.
Maerwynn knelt on the alter stone on the bank of the river, staring with glazed eyes over the haven she had created, now burning and broken before her. She raked her nails through her blood-soaked hair, and howled – a horrid sound, like an animal snagged in the claws of a trap. The body of Gussalen draped across her knees, her eyes glazed, her face still. A dagger blade protruded from her breast, the beauty of her crystalline features marred by dark splatters of blood.
“You.” Maerwynn growled, as her gaze fell on Ulrich. “You did this.”
“He didn’t!” I cried. “He was trying to save you. He came back to warn you—”
“He led them here,” she screamed. “He killed my coven, my children. They are dying because of you!”
“Ulrich didn’t do this,” Aubrey said. She let Bernadine rest against a standing stone, and stepped up to the altar. She reached up to help Maerwynn down. But Maerwynn was inconsolable, and she howled, tearing at her hair, beating her chest. The sound was inhuman.
More of the witches came out of the trees. Catrain scrambled down from the branches, an empty arrow quiver clattering against her shoulder. They formed a circle around Maerwynn, chanting in a low, mournful tone. They were singing a dirge for their departed sisters.
Ulrich gripped my shoulders and pulled me tight against him. “I am sorry,” he whispered, his eyes closed. “I am so sorry.”
Ada
There was no time even to properly dispose of the bodies of the dead sisters. We dragged them from the wreckage of their homes and piled the bodies on one of the still burning cabins. Tears streamed down my face as I watched the flames consume these fiery women I’d known and grown to love, who had welcomed me to their haven and shown me how to unlock my own magic. To see them so stripped bare, so debased… it reminded me of the great pyres of plague victims that burned outside of my old village. Real people of wit and kindness and substance, reduced to bones and ash, taken back to the earth from whence they came.
While I stood silent, motionless in front of the pyre, Ulrich raced into the forest. He returned a few minutes later with Tjard, their faces grave.
“There are more men pouring into the valley,” he said. “Your father has sent an entire regiment, and they all wear Clarissa’s crest. The men who burned your homes are just the beginning. They are getting in position to surround the entire valley.”
“Why?” Maerwynn’s eyes were hard as stone.
“They know you are witches. They will bring you back to Lord’s Benedict’s court, where you will be tortured and executed in public as an example to the god-fearing population of what happens to women who invite demons into their bodies.”
“I would like to see them touch me,” Maerwynn whispered. Her face held all the fury of a darkening storm. A cold shiver ran though my body. At that moment, I believed her capable of anything.
“I will not let it happen, Maerwynn.” Ulrich reached for her hand. She yanked it away.
“What do you mean? You’ve let it happen before.”
Ulrich’s face darkened. “That was different.”
“You killed her!” Maerwynn screamed. I looked up in shock. I thought Maerwynn had been talking about the witches who had died, but her face was twisted with something else- a deep-rooted, long-held pain. There was something else between them, something neither she nor Ulrich had told me.
“Maerwynn,” he said, his voice calm, quiet. “Please. You need to stay strong for your women. You need to lead them to safety. You must forget—”
Maerwynn howled, tearing at Ulrich’s face with her hands. “Forget?” she screamed. “Forget? You have forgotten her, Ulrich the depraved, Ulrich the murderer. You have forgotten my dear sister in the arms of that useless, evil girl. But I will never forget her!”
“What is she talking about?” Aubrey asked. “Ulrich?”
I stared into Ulrich’s eyes, but he glanced away.
“You want me to trust you, witch hunter?” Maerwynn spat. “You dare to return to my Haven and ask me for favours, and now you want my witches to follow you into the woods? You want your precious Ada to go running after you like a lost puppy? Well, then they should know the truth about you, about what you do to the women in your care.”
“You’re lying.” I snapped, terrified of her frenzied attack. “Ulrich has never killed a witch.”
“Is that what he told you? Then he is a liar as well as a murderer.” Maerwynn spat. “And you are a gullible child.”
“He never lied—” I started to say, but my eyes were locked on Ulrich. He looked up then, and his eyes met mine. One look at the sadness dwelling there and I knew it was true.
“You told me you never killed a witch,” I whispered.
“I didn’t lie,” Ulrich spat back at me, but his face told a different story.
“Leave us, witch hunter.” Maerwynn snapped. “Take these cursed women with you. We never should have taken them in. I am a fool to have trusted you once again, Ulrich of Donau-Ries. And you,” she jabbed her finger at my chest. “You are responsible for all this. You have the blood of a dark witch, and it has brought nothing but death and destruction upon me and my kind. As far as I’m concerned, you two deserve each other.”
“Maerwynn, this is suicide. With Damon on your scent, you will not last out the year.” Ulrich said. “What do you intend to do?”
“That is not your concern, Witch Hunter.” Maerwynn said, her words dripping with malice. “Unlike this weak woman you have chosen, I do not need a man to protect me. Now leave this place, before I throttle you with my bare hands.”
* * *
Ulrich and Tjard loaded the wagon in silence. No witch came to offer us parting words, nor gifts of mead or bread for the road. Aunt Aubrey cried softly, muffling her sobs with her sleeve. Aunt Bernadine stared off into the distance, her mind in another place.
Tjard helped my aunts into the back. Ulrich reached out his hand for me, but I shook my head. The thought of going with Ulrich, knowing that he had lied to me, that he had taken a life of a witch, a woman just like me, made me sick.
“Ada, I know you’re angry, and I will explain everything, I promise. But now you need to come with me.”
“Is it true?”
“Ada, please.” he glanced around us. “We don’t have time—”
“You need to make time. Is what Maerwynn said true?”
Ulrich closed his
eyes. Up close, his face appeared old, tight with worry. “Maerwynn had a sister,” he said finally. “Her name was Ellyn, and she was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, before you, that is. When Tjard and I first struck out on our own, we worked for a time in a small village along the Elbe, and it was there I first met Maerwynn and Ellyn. They lived with their father in the village, for their mother had been killed as a witch some years previously, by my father. Ellyn had been sent away to convent, and so it was just Maerwynn and I in the beginning. She wanted me desperately, and for a time I indulged her, because she was beautiful and strong and haunted by her past. We had much in common, not least of which was a hatred of my father.”
“But all of this changed when Ellyn was sent home from the convent for turning the holy water into beer. From the moment I laid eyes on Ellyn, I was hers. She was beautiful, clever, bright, and intoxicating, in many ways similar to you, my love.”
“So what happened?” I didn’t really want to hear about this other woman, but I knew this story wasn’t going to end happily.
“Maerwynn was angered that I had cast her aside for her sister. Perhaps if I had been paying more attention, I might have been able to prevent disaster, but I was too distracted by my lust. Witch fever was sweeping the village, and it was no surprise that one of them should be accused, given their mother’s fate and the fact that, unlike most of my victims, they were actually witches. Ellyn was delivered to my dungeon, and there we enjoyed each other for several days.”
I gulped back tears. I don’t want to hear this.
“I was engrossed by my desire for her, and I pushed her further than I had any other woman at that point. But she was so young, only nineteen summers, and her love for me, her need of me, was so all-consuming that it slowly took over her mind. I did not see it, so taken I was with my own lust. Ellyn’s trial was approaching, and Tjard and I had planned everything – how I would save her and her sister, how we would escape together into the forest, and Ellyn and I would be wed. But it was not to be.”
Coven: a dark medieval paranormal romance (Witches of the Woods Book 2) Page 20
