And that was unlike him, too. He drank more and more of late. At first, it was to make himself forget he couldn’t perform with Melanis. Now it was the cursed dreams that turned him to the bottle. If he wasn’t careful, he would drink himself to death or at least into the poor house. Where was the carefully established and hard-won control that had always governed his adult life?
It had gone, that was the truth! Ever since Katrine Aranati careened headlong into his life, he had been blown like a feather on the wind, and with no more direction. At times he almost succumbed to the panic that seized him, but he would breathe his way through the fear, focused on the steady life force that surged within. He tried not to think of Katrine at times like that, but more often than not it was her dancing eyes and saucy smile which cast away the last of his panic.
He sighed heavily and took a long drink from his tankard. This had to end.
Chapter 14
Kat bounced her nephew on her knee and he giggled. Mica was the light of her life, and sometimes the ache to have a child of her own was almost physical. Sometimes she could almost believe he was hers, with his dark hair and blue eyes. But she might never have a child of her own and she had best get used to that possibility.
Nothing had changed within Kat’s world. The seasons rolled by as ever they had, and life on the farm grew more prosperous as the weather warmed. The time of the full moon approached, and she looked forward to it, but she couldn’t dispel the nagging fear that struck whenever she thought of her hounds. Her dreams were more vivid than ever over the past two weeks, and the hounds she met in them yapped at her even though they rarely did so in the waking world. Last night in the dream hunt, a huge, dark shadow crossed over them, casting fear into those running with her. The hounds disappeared, leaving her alone. The terror her hounds had experienced clung to her even on waking. She wished again she knew what it meant.
“Ouch!” Her scalp screamed in protest as Mica tugged on her hair. She pried it out of his grasp and put him back in his basket amid howls of protest. Esta came to investigate.
“I take it he pulled your hair again,” Esta said, her brown eyes dancing with delight. She had never been as happy as she was since Samael, and now Mica, entered her life. Kat longed for such a simple existence, but Esta had endured tough times. Her sister once juggled being high lady of house Aranati with the life of a smuggler to keep her family and workers fed. And she had to fight for Sam’s survival when he was sentenced to death for being a pirate. Yes, there had been hard times for Esta, and she deserved this peace. However, Kat couldn’t help being a little jealous.
“He did! I think it’s his favorite pastime. I must wear it up if he insists on pulling it.” She combed her fingers through her dark hair. Esta’s eyes narrowed.
“What is troubling you, Kat?”
Esta always saw through her front to the trouble within!
“It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”
“Is Hetty ill again?”
“No, she’s fit as a horse. I spoke to her last night.”
Esta shuddered. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you being able to speak to her through the fire. Did she give you unsettling news?”
“Nothing she revealed to me.” Kat was sure something troubled Hetty, but the old woman was evasive even when asked direct questions. The main thing Kat focused on was that Hetty was doing so well, Princess Alecia had reduced the frequency of her visits.
Esta sat in the chair beside her and picked Mica up from his basket to feed. “Speak, sister.”
Kat sighed. “I’m having dreams. They leave me uneasy, and, last night, there was a darkness I couldn’t discern. It struck fear into my heart. I don’t know what it means.”
Esta frowned. “It may mean nothing.”
Kat felt Esta only grudgingly accepted magic, let alone dreams which forebode trouble. Perhaps she should speak to Hetty. Or Alecia. The princess was rumored to herself have dreams that foretold the future.
Kat remained silent, but it didn’t stop Esta.
“Are you happy, Kat? Since you returned from Brightcastle, you seem different. I know you suffer from melancholy, but this is …I don’t know…You seem determined to stay busy, almost frantic. What happened in Brightcastle? You never said.”
“I helped bring Hetty back from certain death,” Kat snapped, “and that’s all that matters.” She didn’t wish to discuss her disappointments when what she was trying to do was leave them behind her.
Esta shook her head. “I remember you telling me once I didn’t trust you. And now you are doing the same thing. We are family, and I want you to tell me all your fears, even when you think I won’t understand. What happened in Brightcastle?”
“This has nothing to do with Brightcastle.”
“Doesn’t it? Are you sure?” Esta asked. Mica fussed, and his mother sat him up and blew a raspberry on his neck which made him giggle.
Kat sighed. “Perhaps you’re right. The Goddess knows I’ve carried this around with me for long enough.” She didn’t know where to start. “I met a man, I fell in love, and he rejected me.”
Esta gasped. “Sam said a man was to blame, but I …I didn’t think so. I wondered…”
“You thought I preferred women?” Kat stood. “How little you know of me.”
“Who is he, Kat?”
“I doesn’t matter. He is betrothed to another, and that’s the end of it. He may already be married.”
“Would it have been a good match? You and him?” Esta placed her son in his basket and stood. She grasped Kat’s hands.
“It would have been more magical than all the spells in all the lands. When we touched, there was a wild current that tied us together. I gave him everything.” Tears sprang into her eyes at the memory of what they had shared. “It was not to be, and I am determined to move forward. My melancholy has vanished as mysteriously as it came, and I have tried hard to build a life for myself since returning.”
“I’ve noticed, love,” Esta said. “And I appreciate all you do. I wondered at the changes I saw. I thought perhaps Hetty…” She sighed and looked down at their joined hands. “Promise you will ask for help when you need it. You’re so solitary. It’s not good for you.” She kissed Kat’s cheek, picked up her son, and left the room.
Kat gazed after her. If Esta only knew the whole story… night hounds and the rest. But her sister couldn’t help. This was Kat’s responsibility, her chosen vocation, and she would muddle through, feeling her way because even Hetty might not be able to guide her.
That night, she dreamed of James. He was back in Costa, and an air of sadness hung over him. She watched him in his workshop, saw him meet with an old man, and take a note in exchange for coin. A raven squawked overhead then took flight. Even in the dream, she shivered. James looked at the sky and frowned. The images were jumbled, but the danger was clear. The sky seemed to hang dark, menacing, then out of the north came a strange sound. It was an almighty shriek, louder than a bird call, and a flight of ravens swept across the town, fleeing south. The shriek came again and dark, dark…
She sat up in bed, expecting to hear the sound. It was quiet with only her harsh breathing and frantic heartbeat to trouble the night. She drew deep breaths to settle the moths battering her stomach then rose from bed and strode to the window. Dawn was only moments away. The full moon would rise tonight, and she and the hounds would hunt. A small thrill joined the dread within. What did it mean? She was certain something terrible would soon happen. Could she make sense of it all before it was too late?
James had spent the day mired in what his life had become over the last five months — since his rejection of Katrine Aranati. Where was she? What was she doing? He had enquired before leaving Brightcastle four months ago, and Hetty told him she was long gone. But gone where? Their last encounter had been momentous, and Katrine seemed to command the hounds which was difficult for him to accept. Her world was so foreign. Yet, she had taken up residence in his thoughts, and there
was no shifting her. He wondered if she thought of him at all.
Yesterday at the inn he made a pledge. He would no longer drink to excess. But the temptation had been there today, luring him out to the inn to partake in a swift ale that might become ten if he wasn’t careful. This evening, he had won the battle, and his day had been more productive than most. He was almost finished the tiara, and soon he could deliver it to Princess Benae. He wondered what reception he would get after the debacle of his betrothal. Melanis and Benae, if not close friends, at least saw each other often.
He sighed. That was a worry for another day. He locked the front door and went to check the back before turning in. As he reached it, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He opened the door and stepped out, lifting the lantern he carried. A full sweep of the yard showed nothing out of order.
A hen shrieked, and he jumped. He puffed out a breath and checked his knives before grabbing the wooden pole that rested inside the door. It should be protection enough from the mangy dog or fox in his hen house. Why hadn’t Lamb given the alarm? Stupid big lump of dog was probably curled up in the shed asleep.
James closed the door and ventured into the yard. He peered inside the shed—Lamb wasn’t there. Feathers fluttered on the ground outside the henhouse, but all was quiet.
Except for the low grinding.
It sounded like…sounded like…a dog chewing on a bone. He looked up toward the noise and spied a dark lump on the roof of his house. A huge lump…no…a massive lump. His heart slowed to a limp, and his mouth dried. Thick liquid dripped from the roof.
As he charged for the safety of the house, the dark blob lifted and swooped straight at him. Huge claws knocked him to the ground, and Lamb’s head fell beside him as the creature swept by. All he noticed were scales and razor-sharp talons. He rolled onto his back, brandishing the pole and the lantern, seeking the beast. The lantern light hindered his night vision, but he wasn’t ready to discard it when he might need the fire.
It took two sweeps of the surrounding buildings before he found his attacker sitting atop his neighbor’s house. The moon came out from the clouds to reveal the huge ugly head of…a dragon? Its eyes glinted crimson, and, for a moment, James couldn’t move. The beast shifted, its claws sliding on the roof. A tile slid to the alley, and a cat screamed. James stood and backed toward the house where Lamb’s lifeblood dripping from the roof made a sticky curtain between him and the back door. The dragon flapped its wings as though to launch, but James would be inside before the cumbersome beast could reach him.
At that moment, Dant stepped from the stable.
“What’s all the noise?” He saw James. “Oh, sorry Master.”
“Get back inside!” James charged across the yard toward the stable hand. “Dragon!”
Dant stared at him as though he had gone mad.
“Get inside, I say!” James spared a look over his shoulder. The beast launched from its perch and flapped toward them. “Run!”
James set himself ready to knock the beast aside with the pole. Then it was above him, the reek of its breath alone enough to bring bile to his throat. He choked and swung the pole, not connecting with anything. He swung back the other way at the hovering beast. This close, James could see the intelligent eye of the dragon. It was waiting for him to drop his guard.
Keeping eye contact, he put down the pole and picked up the lantern. Give the beast a dose of its own fire! But perhaps fire didn’t scare it, for it charged at James. He flung the lantern, and then it was upon him. One clawed foot seized his left shoulder and the other his knee. Agony laced through him, and he realized he only had one chance to live. He pulled the knife from his belt and sliced upward, gouging a deep cut in the beast’s right forearm. It dropped him and flapped away, a massive gout of flame shooting across the yard and into the neighboring houses as it let out a scream.
And then the beast again turned its baleful eye on James. He braced himself and drew back his right arm to throw the knife. Perhaps he could get in a killing shot before the dragon’s flaming breath consumed him. But, as he threw his knife, a fireball blazed across the yard and hit the beast in the side. Another one followed, and the dragon launched itself into the night sky, its wing on fire as it flapped out of sight.
Kat dropped to the dirt of the yard and ran to James’s side. He was bleeding from his left shoulder and knee where the beast had seized him.
“Katrine! What…”
“Hush, don’t talk. We must get you inside.” She looked for Dant. “Help me!”
Together, they got James inside and to his bed. The house next door was on fire, and, already, the neighboring residents had set up a bucket line to help put it out.
Kat seized Dant by the shoulders. “Fetch my horse from the street and stable him. Then gather all the staff and help with the fire. Tell them your master is ill.”
She returned to James.
“What are you doing here, lady?” he said. “I thought never to see you again.”
She used her knife to cut his trousers, so she could examine his knee wound, then removed his tunic and shirt. “You hoped never to see me again, you mean? Where is your wife?”
“It’s a long story.”
Kat stared at him. “You are married?”
“I am not. Look, my wounds are burning like they’re on fire. Could we leave this until later?”
She bit back the words she longed to batter him with and inspected both of his wounds. “They’re deep. I think they will fester.”
“I have every faith in your healing ability, Katrine.”
“You’re a fool!” She turned and left the room.
In the kitchen, Kat found a kettle with recently boiled water and several bowls. She prepared a herb solution and took it back to the bedroom. James had closed his eyes but opened them as she cleaned the skin around his wounds.
“This will hurt, but you must bear it.” She gave him a knife handle to bite down on. “Whatever happens, you must not move. I’ll open your wounds, so I can flush them out.”
So saying, she seized the knife she had placed in the fire and plunged it into his shoulder. James screamed as if dying, and Kat almost lost the courage to continue. I must do this, or he will die! She swallowed down the lump that had lodged in her throat and listened to Hetty’s voice in her head. “Open the wound until you fear it will never heal. It is only then you have cut deep enough.” She discovered bruised flesh extending beyond the cut. Kat braced herself to slice again.
He screamed, but not as loudly as the first time. Blood poured from the deepened cut, and she feared he might die of blood loss. Perhaps she needed to treat this wound first and stem the blood flow before she moved to his knee? James had gone quiet, his breathing shallow and fast. She flushed the wound, and the bleeding subsided until the solution leaving the wound was almost clear. The herbs must have aided in stemming the blood flow; or he had lost so much blood he had none to spare.
Her hands shook so hard she could hardly hold the needle to suture the gaping wound. At least James wasn’t suffering, unconscious as he was. Perhaps she could complete her surgery before he awoke. She placed the last stitch and wiped the wound clean, then moved to his knee. Blessedly all the punctures appeared to have avoided the joint itself. There were three, and she opened all of them without a murmur from her patient. Kat flushed until the fluid ran clear again and closed the cuts. Then she cleaned up and settled down in a chair by the fire to wait.
When Kat awoke with a stiff neck the next morning, James still lay unmoving. She hurried to his side and checked his skin. He was warm but not feverish, his face pale not flushed. If the wounds had festered it would be obvious by now. But had he wouldn’t wake, and fear sat like a cold stone in her heart and gut. What if she had killed him with her surgery? She drew a deep breath and turned to place more wood on the fire. She couldn’t give up until there was no more reason to hope.
All through the morning, Kat waited. She took her breakfast in his room,
delivered by the housekeeper, Mistress Lary. The house next door had been saved, and no one was aware how the fire had started but for her, Dant and James. The stable hand told Mistress Lary James had been attacked by a wolf, and Kat saw no reason to tell her otherwise. She still couldn’t accept what she had seen. The last dragon had vanished over a hundred years ago, yet one had attacked the household last night. Why? Had it been sent by someone?
It was rumored the dragons of old were raised by elves. Was this another plot by the rebel faction of dark elves to subdue the kingdom? She had seen no rider, but dragons were rumored to be intelligent. Perhaps this one had been trained to spy on Costa. What if she hadn’t acted on her fears and raced to check that James was well? What if her dreams hadn’t warned her of a dark shadow of peril hanging over him?
James had fought valiantly but was ill prepared to battle a dragon. She wanted to believe he would have escaped with his life even without her magic. Her heart swelled at the memory of witnessing his fight with the huge beast. James had never given up! But she had to acknowledge he had been seconds from being toasted by dragon fire.
Night hounds and, now, dragons. At least the hounds appeared to be under her control, but the dragon? Never… How many more of them were hiding out there? She closed her eyes and sat back in the chair by the fire. It would be luncheon soon, and James must wake before long. It was only a matter of time.
James opened his eyes to flickering firelight. Where was he? On the road? In his room? He fought a foggy memory which must be a dream—a dragon had grabbed him and tried to fly away? He huffed out a breath and pain blazed from his left shoulder. Agony scorched up his neck, across his chest, and down to the tips of his fingers. And he was ravenous.
He turned his head to the fireplace. There he saw another illusion. Katrine.
The Master and the Sorceress Page 14
