The Invisible Ring bj-4

by Anne Bishop

  “The only thing he’d be granted is the chance to whore his honor for the illusion of freedom,” Jared snapped. “He’d never really be trusted, never really be free. He wouldn’t be wearing a Ring he could feel or see, but—” The words suddenly stuck in Jared’s throat. “But he’d be trapped by it all the same,” he finished softly.

  Freedom from pain. Freedom from the constant physical reminder that your body belonged to someone else who could use you, hurt you, sell you, maim you simply because she wanted to. Freedom to have a lover, maybe even children. Freedom, for the price of giving up honor.

  And all a man would have to do was blindly obey.

  Like he’d been doing since they’d started this fool’s journey.

  Rage boiled up in Jared.

  “Jared?”

  As Jared shook off Brock’s restraining hand, he noticed the three boys scrambling among the boulders a little ways upstream, jostling each other as they threw sticks into the creek.

  Jared roared to vent some of his temper. “Tomas! Eryk! Corry! Get away from there!”

  Tomas grinned and waved. “We’ll be careful,” he shouted.

  “Keep an eye on them,” Jared snapped, pushing past Brock.

  Ignoring the worried looks of the others waiting by the wagon, Jared headed for the Gray Lady, who’d been wandering around in the field next to the creek since they’d had to stop. She limped toward him, her arms wrapped around her belly, too focused on the ground just ahead of her to notice his approach until he was almost on top of her.

  Jared grabbed her arm, too angry to be careful. “Make the Ring visible. Prove it’s there. Prove it.”

  Her eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

  His hand tightened. “Or add the Ring of Obedience to it. I’m not going to play your games. I’m not going to fall for your tricks. You may own my body, but you’re never going to own my soul.”

  She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind.

  Right now, he wasn’t so sure he hadn’t.

  “The Ring of Obedience,” Jared snarled.

  “No.” She tried to pull away from him. “You wear the Invisible Ring. That’s sufficient.”

  “It’s not going to be sufficient for long. I’ll fight you with everything I am. You’re not going to own me. Not that way.” She had to strike back now. She had to. No witch would allow a slave to state bluntly that he was going to fight without punishing him for it. And once that pain blazed along his nerves, he would know for certain the Invisible Ring existed and she hadn’t played him for a fool.

  She didn’t strike back. Instead, she snapped, “You presume a great deal, Warlord. What makes you think I want to own you in any way?”

  “A bill of sale, Lady.”

  For some reason, his response upset her. She yanked her arm out of his grasp, stumbling back a couple of steps. “Is wearing the Invisible Ring making you suffer?”

  “Yes!”

  “Good!”

  He opened his mouth to blast her with the foulest language he knew . . . and tasted something in the air that shouldn’t have been there.

  Wariness and fear shadowed her eyes as he stared at her. She slowly backed away from him.

  Jared shook his head. “You can’t—”

  The scream came a second after he felt a surge of power.

  Whipping around, Jared saw Eryk standing on top of the boulders, his arms windmilling frantically to keep from falling backward into the creek. Tomas held on to the front of Eryk’s coat, leaning back and pulling hard, trying to keep the older, heavier boy from falling.

  There was no sign of Corry.

  Before Jared could move, another surge of power hit the boulders, shattering the rock and tossing both boys into the air. They screamed as they fell into the rushing water.

  Garth burst out of the bushes at the same moment, holding up his trousers as he raced downstream and leaped into the water.

  “CORRY!”

  Jared whipped around again, responding to the Gray Lady’s voice.

  She was running—running!—toward a break in the trees a little ways downstream from the bridge.

  Jared watched her for a moment in frozen disbelief. Then, swearing viciously as he gave in to instinct, he took off after her, counting on his longer legs, the difference in their ages, and her inexplicable moontime to stop her from doing something courageously foolish.

  She must have used Craft somehow to make her knee work as if it were fully healed. And, Mother Night, she had speed!

  In that moment, when he knew he wouldn’t catch her in time, he would have admired her if he hadn’t been so furious with her.

  Instead of scrambling down the slope to the water’s edge, she lengthened her stride for the last few paces and made a Craft-enhanced leap, flying over the sloping dry land and new shallows. As she neared the middle of the creek, a blast of power struck her, spinning her round and round, smashing through the Craft she’d used.

  She hit the water on her back and disappeared.

  Thera’s voice, shrill and furious, filled Jared’s mind in the same instant the Gray Lady hit the water. *Don’t use Craft! Don’t use Craft! There’s a spell here that twists it and turns it back on you!*

  Jared veered to the right, downstream, pushing himself harder. Using Craft, he could have lifted her out of the water as soon as he caught sight of her and floated her to dry ground. Instead all he could do was try to get ahead of her and think of something then.

  He plunged down the slope, grabbing at trees to stay on his feet. As soon as he had a clear view of the creek, he stopped and scanned the water, looking for some sign of them. He spotted Corry thrashing helplessly, slowly drifting toward the tangle of branches and debris.

  Slowly. As if something was holding the boy back. As if someone’s feet were digging into the creek bottom.

  Damn that woman. This wasn’t a chess game!

  Muttering vile promises of what he was going to do when he finally got his hands on her, Jared looked around for something, anything he could use to reach them. Then he bared his teeth in a feral smile.

  Like to like.

  If he couldn’t use Craft to help, he would play the game by the enemy’s rules and use it to destroy.

  Raising his right hand, he aimed for the ground in front of a slim, tall tree that stood at the water’s edge several yards downstream and unleashed the Red.

  The ground around the tree exploded, tearing out part of its roots before his Red strength rebounded, heading straight for him.

  Jared dove, rolling the rest of the way down the slope.

  The blast of power sizzled over his head, tearing up the ground where he’d been standing.

  Cautiously raising his head, Jared watched the tree topple into the creek. Still tethered to the land by what was left of its roots, it bounced on top of the water.

  Scrambling to his feet, Jared plunged into the water, cursing as his feet tangled in submerged undergrowth. Once he pulled free, he swam across the current, fighting to reach Corry.

  It took seconds, seemingly centuries for him to reach the middle of the creek. He pulled his legs under him and planted his feet to test the water’s depth. It broke against his shoulders.

  Too long, Jared thought as he ducked under the water, clamped his hands around the Gray Lady’s waist, and yanked her to the surface. She’s been under too long.

  She gasped for air, swallowed water, and choked. Jared swore as he wormed one arm between her belly and Corry's back to hold her up. At least he didn’t have to worry about losing Corry. She could barely breathe, and her arms were still wrapped so tightly around the boy it was going to take a couple of strong men to pry him away from her.

  She coughed up water, and Jared swore again.

  “Breathe, damn you, breathe!” Jared shouted at her. “You are not going to die just to get out of a fight!”

  “Sounds fair,” she gasped.

  Relieved that she could breathe enough to talk, Jared
’s arm tightened around her until she squeaked.

  “We’re going to play hop frog,” Jared said, working to keep his voice calm while his instincts shivered a warning that some terrible danger was coming closer.

  “I am not going to jump over your shoulders,” she growled.

  “Not leap frog. Hop frog. Didn’t you play any games when you were a girl?”

  “You can’t hop if you can’t touch the ground.”

  “The tallest one hops. The shorter ones just hang on for the ride. I used to do this all the time with my little brothers when the creeks were running high. It’s fun.” And thank the Darkness Reyna had never found out about it.

  “Only a boy would think a stupid, dangerous game was fun.”

  “Lady, you’ve got a lot of brass to call anything anyone else does stupid or dangerous.”

  He made the first hop before she could sputter a reply, letting the current push them a ways before planting his feet again. On the second hop, his foot slipped and they all went under. Since the Lady was too busy coughing and cursing him to say anything useful, he hopped again.

  They reached the toppled tree on the fourth hop.

  Jared grabbed the tree to keep his balance while he started to walk them toward the bank.

  “Jared!” Blaed rushed down the slope to the water’s edge. Bracing himself against the tree, he waded in far enough to yank Corry out of the Gray Lady’s arms. “We’ve got to get out of here. Thera says a spell’s been triggered and the power feeding it is going to hit this place anytime now.”

  Hell’s fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful.

  They scrambled for the bank.

  “I brought the saddle horses,” Blaed said. “The others took the wagon and will get as far away as they can before it hits.”

  “Go,” Jared said as soon as Blaed reached dry ground.

  Blaed didn’t bother to answer. Carrying Corry, he climbed the slope as fast as he could.

  Jared half carried the Gray Lady the last few steps to the bank and didn’t think it strange that she was struggling so hard until she tried to take a step up the slope and almost fell.

  “Go,” she said, trying to push him away while balancing on her left leg. “Go.”

  “Feather-brained, mule-headed woman,” Jared growled as he ducked under her batting hands and hoisted her over his shoulder. “Stop squirming, or you’ll get us both killed.”

  “I can—”

  “Shut up,” Jared said in a deceptively mild tone that no one but a blithering idiot—or a Queen—could have failed to understand.

  Her breath came out in an angry hiss.

  Choosing to interpret that as agreement, he scrambled up the slope.

  “I told you to go,” Jared said when he reached the top and saw Blaed holding both horses, waiting for them.

  “Why should he take orders any better than you do?” the Gray Lady muttered against his back.

  Jared set her down too hard next to the bay gelding. Her gasp of pain hurt him, but he didn’t allow himself to think about it as he tossed her into the saddle and swung up behind her.

  There wasn’t time to think about anything.

  As soon as Blaed swung up behind Corry, they kicked the horses into a gallop and raced across the field, angling toward the road.

  How much time did they have? And how would the spell unleash? Would it radiate from a central point or just fan out on this side of the creek? The damage a psychic unleashing could do would depend on the strength of the person who had fed the spell. His and the Gray Lady’s inner barriers should be able to hold against that kind of unleashing, but the others might not survive it. If the spell manifested in some physical way . . .

  Wind? Water?

  They reached the road at the same moment the spell unleashed.

  Jared glanced over his shoulder and saw a mature tree explode skyward like a burning arrow released from a bow.

  The muscles in his chest locked. He couldn’t breathe.

  Behind them, a huge ball of witchfire consumed the trees around the creek and expanded outward at a fierce speed.

  Jared urged the gelding on, trying to wring a little more speed out of the animal.

  Witchfire had a radius. It had a limit that depended on the amount of power that had been used to create it. It could heat and it could burn—sweet Darkness, how it could burn!—but it couldn’t continue expanding after the power was exhausted. With all the rain they’d had over the past few days, it wasn’t likely that the witchfire would spark a natural fire. They should be safe enough . . . if they could outrun it.

  He saw the wagon rattling down the road ahead of them.

  He heard the witchfire roaring behind him.

  Too slow. Too slow!

  Jared pressed against the Gray Lady. If the witchfire caught up to them, he’d risk the working distance of that twisting spell and throw a Red shield behind them. Even if that spell turned his own strength against him, the shield might buy her enough time to escape the witchfire.

  They were gaining on the wagon.

  The witchfire was gaining on them.

  The roan mare Blaed was riding squealed and shot ahead of them.

  Jared felt the heat on his back.

  He raised his hand at the same moment the Gray Lady raised hers.

  Swearing when he saw the Green Jewel in her ring, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand down before she could throw up a shield. He’d risk the range of the twisting spell and having his own power turned against him, but he’d be damned if he’d let her risk it.

  Fire roared behind them.

  The wagon was too close now. Too close.

  The gelding raced past a tree a second before the fire consumed it.

  “We made it!” Blaed shouted. “Mother Night, we made it!”

  Jared glanced back.

  A wall of witchfire filled the road behind them, but it wasn’t moving forward anymore.

  “Thank the Darkness.” Jared pressed his cheek against the Gray Lady’s head as he reined in the laboring horse. When the gelding slowed to a stumbling walk, he slid off its back. He wasn’t sure his legs would hold him, but they couldn’t afford to ruin the horses. “Come on, boy,” he soothed, sliding the reins over the gelding’s lowered head so he could lead it. “A little farther and you can rest.”

  He looked at the Gray Lady slumped in the saddle, her face hidden by her wet, tangled hair. His eyes narrowed.

  Funny. He wouldn’t have thought gray hair would look that dark when it was wet.

  “Jared!” Brock shouted.

  The wagon had slowed to a walk, too. Brock swung off the driving seat and jumped to the ground.

  Jared waved at him. “Keep them walking.”

  Brock started toward him, looked behind Jared at the Gray Lady, and hesitated. Then he waved an acknowledgment and turned around.

  The wagon door opened. Looking pale, Thera braced herself in the opening. Her green eyes swept over Blaed, who was leading the mare, and Corry, who was still in the saddle, pale and shaking. They lingered for a moment on the Gray Lady, and finally settled on him.

  Jared had the uneasy feeling she was looking for some kind of answer. Problem was, he didn’t know the question.

  Before he could say anything, she stepped back and closed the door.

  Jared looked at Blaed and frowned. “I told you to go.”

  Blaed shrugged. “Thera told me to bring you back. If I had to fight with someone about it, better you than her.”

  Jared grunted. Then he slanted another look at the young Warlord Prince. “You like her.”

  “She’s got a Harpy’s temper,” Blaed snapped as his face colored.

  Jared grinned. “You like her.” The grin faded. Slaves couldn’t afford those kinds of feelings.

  They walked for several minutes before Jared whistled sharply and raised his hand, calling a halt. The horses were cool enough to stand for a few minutes while they changed into dry clothes and got the Gray Lady s
ettled into the wagon. She hadn’t said anything since he’d tossed her onto the gelding’s back. She had to be in pain. Her enduring it in silence reminded him why he was so furious with her.

  The moment the wagon stopped, Thera threw the door open and scrambled down the steps, almost falling in her haste.

  Wondering why she seemed so tense now that the danger was over—it was over, wasn’t it?—Jared reached up to help the Gray Lady dismount.

  And found himself reaching for a gray-eyed, dark-haired, young witch dressed in the Gray Lady’s clothes.

  She frowned at him. and said, “What’s wrong?” at the same moment Thera said, “I’m sorry.”

  Fury blinded him. Hell’s fire, he had hated witches who hadn’t made him this furious.

  Snarling, he clamped his hands around her waist and hauled her out of the saddle. As she fell forward, the Green Jewel hanging from a gold chain around her neck slipped out of the torn coat and tunic. Her gasp of pain and surprise—and the bruises already darkening on her shoulders and chest where she must have struck submerged rocks— stopped him from letting go of her until she had time to grab the gelding’s saddle to keep her balance. Then he stepped back, not trusting himself not to strike out.

  “Who are you?” he said roughly.

  “I’m sorry,” Thera said again.

  Looking puzzled, the witch’s gray eyes flicked to the men Jared could feel gathering behind him, to the children who had emerged from the wagon, to Thera, and, finally, to him.

  She started to raise her hand to brush back her tangled hair, but didn’t complete the gesture. Pulling what was left of her braid over her shoulder, she studied the dark hair, and then muttered, “Hell’s fire.”

  “Who are you?” Jared roared. He didn’t know which made him more furious: that his mind had been tricked into believing this was the Gray Lady or that his body hadn’t been fooled.