Treasure So Rare (Women of Strength Time Travel Trilogy)

by Grace Brannigan

  "I had the uneasy notion we were on a fool's errand and elected to return, so we split the troops. Ulrich went on at his insistence, taking three men with him. Maybe he planned to meet Camdork out there, I have no idea."

  "My tapestry showed bloodshed at the forest."

  "Ulrich may well be gone, too." Erik shook his head. "Or he may be under Mandrak's order." Erik looked at Iliana, reached his hand out and she gripped it. "I swear we will find William, Iliana." He looked ahead toward the red hills just visible in the distance. "The horses have had a bit of a breather, let us pick up our pace."

  Erik cantered beside Iliana, heaviness in his heart. Had all this somehow been his doing? By coming here, had he brought John Moses Devanesque with him? He had thought him dead, but her description of the storyteller's strange eyes was too uncannily familiar.

  Damnation! They had to find the child with all speed. He would not trust Devanesque with his horse, much less a human life. And if, as Iliana thought, there a chance Devanesque had accessed the power within the sacred circle, he feared for all life in this place.

  ¤¤

  They reached the red soil by late afternoon. Luckily, Iliana had recalled the streams from her previous travel to this place and Erik had filled the leather water vessel he carried. Iliana had left in such a hurry she had taken nothing for water. The air began to grow chill as the sun went down, and she had little to protect herself from the coming bitter night.

  "There," she pointed toward the hills, "the caverns lie in those hills." They had seen an occasional wer-dragon in the sky, but none seemed to pay attention to them.

  On the edge of the red soil began a forest to their west. Erik dismounted and helped Iliana down also. "Your slippers are not meant for walking on such rough ground," he observed. "I would prefer you wait in the forest. As it is, I fear for your safety. I will scout around and see what I can discover."

  "Nay, Erik, I must keep searching for my son."

  "You told me what occurred the last time you went into the red soil. I cannot lose you, Iliana."

  Iliana summoned a smile, weary from riding all day in worry of her son. "I understand your concern, Erik, but there is something different about this place now. I see no fighter dragons about nor do I hear the buzz of their wings. It feels as if this place is empty, whereas before it was alive with malevolent sorcery."

  Closing her eyes in weariness, Iliana suddenly heard the sound of distant hoof beats. She looked up at him. "I hear a horse approaching."

  Erik shaded his eyes, staring up into the red hills as a rider appeared between two hills and galloped toward them.

  "Damnation! It is Ulrich."

  "Ulrich here? How can that be?"

  The horse and rider approached and finally reached them. Dressed in black leggings and tunic, Ulrich stopped his mount, the animal prancing as if still fresh, white sweat against his leather breastplate.

  "Pretender -- my lady Iliana." Ulrich nodded, but did not dismount. "I fear the sorcerer's evil knows no bounds. He has the child."

  Iliana covered her mouth to still the cry that wanted to be released. It was as she feared.

  "Where has he taken him?" Erik asked.

  Ulrich nodded from the direction he had come. "Deep into the red hills, up past the caverns. The fighter dragons are disarmed, which is puzzling to me, but they sleep in their caverns as if spell cast."

  "Ulrich, how do we know we can trust you?"

  The dark giant grimaced. "You might ask, but my allegiance to that one is not of my choosing. I follow as he instructs or I die a miserable death. I knew you would search here, and I tell you, you can only go into the little red hills. If you go beyond that place, you will be caught in a timeless space. Mandrak is in the hills beyond, but he is hidden by magic."

  "Can he already be all that powerful?" Iliana asked.

  "My lady Iliana, do not be misled," Ulrich said, "Mandrak arrived at this place without horse or wagon. He is powerful, more so since he crept into the sacred circle."

  "He has invaded the circle? How do you know?"

  "I watch everything, my lady, and Mandrak was not adverse to showing me how much more powerful he is since he found his way in. He changes his face at will. One moment John the storyteller, the next moment a horrific, rotting beast."

  "And what of my son?"

  Ulrich turned to her. "I believe the little one to be fine for the moment, my lady Iliana."

  "Why take William? I have no treasure. I do not have the emerald."

  "He knows you are the only one who can find it. So he waits."

  "Tell me where he is, Ulrich," Erik demanded. "I will take my chances."

  "Nay, pretender. He commands forces of which you cannot imagine. I had been commanded to go on, and it is as well you rode back." He looked back the way he had come, and they could see a dark haze hovering at the top of the hill. "I will go back. If there is a way to open the path for you to journey inward, I will do so."

  Iliana paced back and forth. "I cannot stay here and do naught to save my son."

  "My lady Iliana, it is your only choice." Ulrich turned his mount. "I must return."

  "Ulrich," she called, her voice breaking, "please take care of my son."

  Iliana watched Ulrich ride deep into the hills until she could see him no more.

  Erik pulled her close. "Iliana, are there any dwellings nearby? We should seek shelter. The night will grow bitter before long."

  Iliana stared at him, blinked, trying to understand what he said. "There is a monastery an hour's ride back the way we came," she said. "Saint Paul's." Abruptly, she said, "And perhaps it is time we visited."

  "What is the significance of the monastery?" he asked.

  "The monastery is where she sleeps," she said.

  Erik's brow went up. "Who?"

  "Her ladyship, Graziela." Her voice faltered and then firmed. "She is the real mistress of Dutton Keep."

  ¤¤

  Erik grabbed Iliana as she swayed with exhaustion.

  Iliana gripped his arms. "It is her memories I hold, her role I presume to fill at the keep. I merely fill her place until she returns."

  "Aren't you her sister? How can she be the mistress?" Erik asked.

  "Because I am not. As my mind went around and around, I recalled bits of conversation, memories that fell into place and can have no other meaning -- Graziela is the reason I was brought to this time."

  Erik looked at her. "You do not belong here?"

  She shook her head. "I -- I am not certain." She tried to concentrate. "We must ride to the monastery." Excited, her eyes began to take on new life from her earlier fatigue. "Perhaps they will give us guidance. Come, Erik I will show you the way."

  ¤¤

  Ulrich saw the child in the corner, sitting on a dirty pallet and now the child's green eyes watched him.

  William sat in the middle of the pallet, the last light of the day upon him, his face dirty and streaked, as if he'd cried untold tears of frustration and yea, perhaps hunger, too. Ulrich frowned and turned from the sight. What use was he? If he couldn't even save himself from the likes of Mandrak, how could he possibly be of use to a child? He needed to make his own escape, but at this moment he saw no course without being hunted down and gutted by the fighter dragons. Nasty bits, that, gouging a man's eyes, tearing into his nether regions. As strong and as fast as he knew himself to be as a fighter, he knew he was no match for one fighter dragon, much less two. And two sat in the doorway as he entered, one on either side of the opening. Mandrak sat on an ancient chair, studying an enormous tome upon the table before him.

  Ulrich had never learned to read, and why should an orphan boy even wish to? He had a bad feeling it was an evil book, else why would the sorcerer study it so intently?

  As he had ridden in, Ulrich had seen the men who lay dead outside, just at the edge of the woods, their sightless eyes staring up at the heavens. The flesh-eater birds had already begun to circle in the sky. Ulrich had seen no mark upon th
em, but he had only looked in passing, the look of terror on one man’s face enough to keep him from getting too close. It was apparent the man's use had come to an end.

  At that moment the child began to wail, "Da, da, da, da, da." The wail became an unending screech.

  Mandrak looked up. "Shut him up," he snarled. "Shut him up or I will do it myself." He stood as the baby's wails became louder and louder. Ulrich thought the wee lad was probably hungry and no doubt missed his mother sorely.

  Mandrak pulled a knife from beneath his robes, and with eyes hard and intent, he approached the baby.

  Ulrich reached deep inside a small pouch which hung at his waist, and stepped between the maniacal sorcerer and the child. He held the carved horse out to the boy. Distracted for the moment, the child abruptly stopped his crying, took the horse in his grimy fingers, and pulled it close to his chest. He stared up at him with tears clinging to his lashes, his face through the dirt hardly recognizable as the child of Iliana.

  Ulrich lifted him gingerly with one big fist by the back of his long tunic. "I will take him and find milk for he is no doubt hungry. That should shut him up." Impassively, Ulrich met Mandrak's stare. "If that is your wish, my lord sorcerer."

  Mandrak waved his hand. "If it will shut the brat up, then do so. Maybe I should have stashed him in a hole instead of dragging him here."

  Ulrich shrugged, tense as a bow string. "I wager with nothing in hand to bargain with when the gem is found --" he let his voice trail off.

  "Yes, what incentive is there for Iliana to bring me the gem if her child is already dead -- a valid point. But find a way to silence his bawling or damn the consequences."

  Ulrich looked at the lad's sopping wet bottom and then into his tear-washed face. "No more of that noise for it bothers my ears," he muttered, and the child smiled at him, reaching up a pudgy hand toward his beard. "Nay," Ulrich muttered, gently swatting the hand away.

  He took the wee one outside. There had to be someone hereabouts that would feed the child. The villagers who had not fled still supplied Mandrak with food.

  Ulrich walked toward the small row of thatched dwellings. Suddenly, he saw Camdork sitting in the dirt outside one of the dwellings. He did not look up at him but merely stared off into the distance. Beside him sat a metal plate, the food half eaten.

  Ulrich heard a creak of wood, looked up at the dwelling quickly to see an old woman quickly close the makeshift door. The other two places looked vacant, but Ulrich was on his guard. Mandrak might think the few left were happy to serve him, but Ulrich knew better. People found surprising reserves to fight if the reasons were important enough. They gathered courage in the last moments of life that they had never found their entire lives.

  He pushed his foot against the door where he'd seen the old woman. He called out, "Open the door, old woman, for I have seen you in here."

  Receiving no response, Ulrich drew his sword with left hand and cautiously shouldered his way in, ducking his head under the doorway and surveying inside, the child held at his right shoulder.

  The dwelling was sparsely lit by two candles and a warm fire glowed in the small hearth. The old woman sat in the one chair in the room, smoking a pipe.

  "The child needs food." Ulrich stood to his full height once inside the dwelling but kept his weapon at the ready.

  The old woman appeared to ignore them, then turned, surveyed first him and then the child. "And what payment shall I receive?" she snapped, blowing smoke between her rotten teeth.

  "Your life," he replied softly. "You get to keep it."

  "Aye, so there is a reason to rise another morning," she snapped. "And why should I feed the whelp of that one?"

  "Find food for the child, old woman. His belly is empty."

  She stood and hobbled closer, her hips twisted at an odd angle.

  Ulrich watched her warily, keeping her gnarled and thin hands in sight at all times.

  She peered at the child in the crook of his arm. The child watched her, gnawing on the wood horse. She nodded, then looked up into his face.

  "Come -- food for this one," Ulrich said, growing impatient.

  "And what of food for you?"

  "Nay, I ask only for the child."

  She turned away and moved to a small table, whereupon she pulled a linen cloth aside and uncovered two small apples. She pointed at them. "One for each of you. For the child cut it into very thin slices."

  "Woman's work --"

  "If you want to eat, begin with the apples." She placed a crude knife upon the wooden table and walked over to the hearth where a small pot bubbled with a dark stew.

  Ulrich placed his sword beside him and placed the child on the small pallet and quickly quartered one of the apples. The child got on all fours and rocked back and forth. Ulrich sliced the second apple. Cautiously, he ate one of the slices. The child watched him.

  The woman walked back toward him. "Give me the child. His soiled clothing must be changed."

  Ulrich stared at her hard. "Nay, I will do it." He repositioned his sword against her chair should he need it in a hurry.

  "You are protective of the child." She lifted her chin.

  "He is valuable," Ulrich said gruffly.

  "It is good." She stirred the stew. "Clear a space on the table. There are garments of a size to fit the child in that small chest in the corner. Verily, you may use what you find."

  Suffering no ill effects from eating the apple, he removed the now wet and sloppy wooden horse from William's mouth and gave the child an apple slice, then another as he quickly devoured them. It was a small amount of food, but perhaps it would stave off some of the hunger pains the child might experience.

  "I have a goat I milked just before your arrival," the old woman said. "It will be good for the child."

  Ulrich nodded, knowing Iliana sometimes fed William milk from the goats at the keep.

  When both apples had been consumed, Ulrich picked up his sword and William, and moved to the corner of the room where the woman indicated the chest was to be found. Keeping his back to the wall and his eyes from time to time on the old woman, he was surprised to find a small ornately carved chest. He ran his rough fingers over the fine workmanship. He opened it and looked in surprise at the contents. He looked up at her.

  "This is --

  "Unexpected?" she chortled, and her gray and haggard face appeared younger. "I was a seamstress in the queen's court for fifty years or more. She commissioned me to sew all manner of garments for the children. She used to dress them up like little men at arms. You may take what you like."

  Ulrich lifted a small tunic, a miniature of the one he wore with small rings laboriously sewn into the fabric. He also pulled out chausses and small leather shoes.

  He looked at her suspiciously. "These are men's garment in small size."

  "He will need protection," is all she said. "Hurry, it grows time for you to leave." She placed two stale bread trenchers on the small table. Dipping a short length of linen in a water bucket, she moved to the child and began to rid his face of the dirt and grime. "What eyes this one has," she murmured, stepping back when she was done. "The purest of emerald."

  Ulrich looked at the gleaming brooch of emerald stones fastened at the child's shoulder. A talisman for safety? He knew Iliana treated the sick with stones, but these were brilliant such as he had rarely seen and formed into a circle of silver. Putting it aside, quickly he divested the child of his soiled garments, then began the laborious task of trying to dress him in the garments he had pulled from the chest.

  The old woman nudged him aside. "Stand there and watch if you must, but 'twill be quicker work if I take charge of the child."

  Ulrich stepped aside, but remained eagle-eyed as she dressed the child quickly and efficiently. He pointed to the circlet with the winking green stones, and the old crone retrieved it, turning it over in her gnarly fingers.

  She looked up at him, but said nothing and fastened it at the child's shoulder. When the task was don
e, he looked at the child in bemusement. "He looks like a small warrior."

  "This one must be taken care of, eh?" she said. She moved away from the now clean and dry William. "Come, eat quickly and then you leave."

  He stared at her, eyes narrowed. "We leave upon Mandrak's direction."

  "Sit." She ladled watery stew with tiny bits of boiled lamb onto his trencher. Ulrich ate with the child in his lap, feeding him little bits of lamb and vegetables. He did not know if the child ate such, but it was that or starve.

  "It is done," he said, rising. "I thank you."

  "He will sleep now," she said. She looked out the open door toward the small dwelling where Mandrak's light burned brightly. She wrapped a trencher and bits of stew meat in cloth, and held it out to him. "For him," she stated, jerking her chin toward the sorcerer's dwelling. "He pays me for food and so it is. But I am leaving. There will be no more food." She looked at him. "As you must flee this place if you wish to save this child."

  "I do not care about the child," Ulrich snarled. "I fed him to shut him up."

  "It is possible he may survive," she said as if he had not spoken. "You will not."

  Ulrich grabbed his weapon and sheathed it. "I have no time for this blather."

  "It is never too late for the sinner to be forgiven the sin." She dared to grab him, her thin, puny fingers barely a fly landing on his arm. "Take the child and go now."

  "Mandrak."

  She laughed softly. "He has fallen into fascination with the spell book he came upon. He is intent on deciphering it." She smiled. "Bring his meal."

  "What of that one outside?" he asked, indicating Camdork.

  She narrowed her eyes. "He has been bewitched. No doubt he displeased the sorcerer. He plays with rocks all day and makes sense of nothing. Even the food he covers with dirt." She shrugged. "He will be released when the time is right."

  Ulrich hesitated, his bulk filling the small doorway. "Thank you," he muttered.

  Ducking his head and with the boy in one crook of his arm and the wrapped trencher of food in his other hand, he stepped outside and walked back toward the sorcerer's dwelling.

  Ulrich twitched his nose. A foul smell hung in the air. No doubt it was the bodies at the edge of the wood, but then again it might well be Mandrak and the flesh that rotted upon his body.