Rising Fire

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by TERRI BRISBIN


  “When do we depart?” Roger asked, sliding his empty cup closer to the pitcher for him to fill.

  “Two days hence. It will not be a long journey, but I have arrangements to make first.” William emptied his cup and stood to leave. “Finish it. I will meet you back at the camp.” There were people he needed to speak with in Edinburgh and then in Dunfermline before leaving on this mission for the king.

  “Do you wish us to accompany you now?” Gautier asked.

  “Nay. I will meet you at the camp and we will make preparations for our journey. I hope to have more news to tell once I complete my tasks.”

  He was not able to tell them anything else, and they would keep asking questions. They had done so in the past and most likely would do so this time as well.

  By the time he rode out of Edinburgh toward his men, William had more questions than answers and little more to go on than what the king had said.

  And the mark on his arm continued to burn and form a shape that he did not recognize.

  The bad feeling that he’d had all day, the one that resembled the warnings his warrior nature received before a battle, increased, until he wondered if he would survive long enough to lay claim to his lands at all.

  Chapter 3

  Spring, AD 1286

  Yester Castle

  He was angry.

  And when Hugh de Gifford was angry, everyone around him scattered, daring not to do something that would focus his anger on them. Unfortunately for the man who lay crumpled on the floor before him, the daft man had indeed drawn his attention.

  The moans emanating from deep within the mass of burned flesh, twisted limbs, and soiled, torn garments warned the few who stood witness that Hugh would not accept failure. He kicked him once more, but it did not ease his fury.

  “A simple task, John. Never allow the king to be alone with anyone. And what did you do when he chased his other sycophants out of the chamber to speak alone with someone?” he asked, kicking the now-silent pile at his feet several more times before meeting every gaze in the chamber. “You left.”

  He held out his hand and smiled as the others began to tremble. His power, he knew, was awesome to watch, which was why he exercised it before his subjects. This lesson would be useful and would ensure that the others did not fail in their tasks as this worthless piece of dung had.

  The fire spread in his blood, and he felt it grow and gather within him. Hugh smiled and aimed his hand at the downed man, and he watched as the flames arced out from his fingers and incinerated every bit of flesh and cloth before him until only a pile of ashes remained. Then he gave those ashes a final kick of his boot, spreading them across the floor.

  “You have your assignments,” he said quietly since there was not a sound in the room. “Do not fail me.”

  Hugh smiled again as they nearly knocked one another over, trying to escape his presence as quickly as possible. The extent of his power invigorated him. Once they were done, Hugh walked to the corner and pressed on a series of stones there until the secret door swung open, allowing him access to his private chamber. After he removed his garments and boots, he walked down the steps through the windowless tower and soon reached the oldest part of his keep. The power that had placed each stone surged through the entire vault and he breathed it in. Somehow, his goddess had found a way to contact him, and this chamber was the result.

  Chaela, goddess of chaos and fire, had directed him to build this underground chamber and had been instructing him on how to help her open a path back into the human world. Exiled hundreds of centuries ago by fools, she now sought out her descendants, and he was only too glad to help her. Hugh, his father, and his grandfather before him had prepared and waited for such things. His ancestors were her descendants, and through the centuries they had kept the knowledge about the old ones and their betrayal alive.

  They’d also practiced the power that they inherited from the goddess until they’d honed it and controlled it. Perfected it.

  Now only Hugh and his knowledge and powers could open the doorway to the other realm and allow Chaela back in. Since the bloodlines of those who worshipped the other old gods had dissipated so much, now was the perfect time to attempt it. There was barely enough of it left in any of the other six families. Hugh’s father had known the time was coming, so he’d sought out others descended from Chaela to ensure that his son would be powerful enough to guide the goddess back into the world and serve her.

  Hugh nodded as his blood heated and he heard the goddess calling to him. Closing his eyes, he inhaled several slow, deep breaths and let them out, trying to calm the excitement coursing through him. He was close, so very close now, and nothing could stop him in his quest.

  Chaos would reenter the world, throwing kingdoms and their rulers into confusion and disarray. Chaela would rule as she should have eons ago. Hugh would be her right hand, as one of her blood and her rightful consort. Together they would control everything in the human world. No one, nothing, would be able to stop them.

  He opened his eyes, and the flames appeared before him. He spread them across the width of the chamber, like a wall. Heat built, and his skin grew hot, but he forced the fire out of his body and into the flames. Everything in the chamber disappeared as another place opened before him.

  And out of that dark emptiness, she floated. Sometimes she appeared in the shape of the ancient flying beast; other times she took human form. Though he was tempted to fall to his knees before her, he remained standing, his power holding the portal open. She came close, but she could not enter here or leave the realm where she was still imprisoned.

  “My faithful servant,” she whispered. “Hugh.”

  “Always yours,” he answered, feeling her nearness and the surge of heat and power in his blood whenever he was in her presence. He walked closer to the wall of flames and held out his hand, penetrating the barrier as he could. Knowing what would happen, he prepared himself for it.

  So much power! So much strength! So much pain!

  He clenched his jaws together to keep from screaming at Chaela’s contact. The touch of her fire seared him to the soul, and the intensity began to burn his skin away, but he forced himself to remain still under the pain and anguish of it.

  The rewards would be so great and worth every second of agony he suffered at her touch. The pleasure that came from such agony coursed through his body.

  Images filled his mind, and words raced through his ears, circling in his thoughts and overwhelming him. His cock stood and hardened and throbbed as though his body readied itself to join with a woman.

  She did this to him. The pain and fire did this. His heart beat so fast and strongly that he thought it might burst. His lungs burned with every breath. His muscles pulsed and strengthened with each second. Then he fell to his knees, crying out loudly, but he never removed his hand from inside Chaela’s wall of fire. Completely in her power, controlled by the pain and the promise of ecstasy and release, he waited as she told him all she wanted him to know.

  Seconds or minutes or hours passed. Hugh was not certain how long he remained kneeling before her, burned and burning within and without and overwhelmed by all she shared with him through their link. Then, in an instant, she released his hand, and he fell to the floor, spent in every way and yet invigorated by this exchange. The flames surged around him, singeing his skin until he climbed to his feet and called them under control. Peering through them, he realized that the portal was closed and the goddess gone.

  “Chaela, my goddess,” he said, bowing deeply in homage.

  “My faithful one.” Her whisper filled the chamber once more, sending waves of shivers through his heated and burned flesh. “It is time to claim all that is mine.”

  He could not contain his joy. For years he’d waited and watched and learned and prepared for this moment, the time when he could unleash his powers and gather his minions t
o seek out those of the other bloodlines and use them to open the doorways to the goddess’s prison world. Use them and then destroy them for their ancestors’ betrayal those eons ago.

  Hugh spread out his arms, leaned back his head, and roared out his joy. Finally, he’d be able to serve the goddess and gain all he deserved. His battle cry echoed through the chamber and then out into the night.

  His moment of celebration over, Hugh strode back up the tower stairs into his own chambers and readied orders to his followers of this wondrous news. It was time to free Chaela and fulfill their ultimate mission.

  Closing the doorway, he sent out riders to begin the search for the others. Now that Chaela issued the call, the other bloodlines would rise to it as well, just as her followers would. Time would be crucial to find the gatekeepers who would open the doorways closed by the blood of Chaela’s son. He needed to find the priests who would even now be making their way to the first of the circles.

  Only a passing glimpse of himself in the looking glass as he gathered his garments to dress slowed him.

  Touching his chest, Hugh watched in the reflection as his hand moved over skin that was now more youthful and unmarked by the ravages of time and age. His face had changed, appearing twenty or so years younger, the wrinkles gone and his cheeks no longer sallow or drawn. He laughed and noticed his voice was different as well, stronger and deeper, as it had been when he was in the flower of manhood.

  But the most shocking change was his hair. No longer did gray and white mix with the black of his youth. Nay, instead it was black once more, as it had not been for more than a score of years.

  He smiled, realizing that the touch of his goddess had done this. Imagining all that could be done when she crossed to the human world, he laughed again. Only then did he notice the other change to his body.

  The patch of skin that had risen on his forearm now bore the mark of his goddess. As though burned and marked with ink, two flames intertwined there. His mouth lifted into a grin when the flames moved, twisting and dancing as he caused real ones to do. They burned as they moved but did not destroy the skin there. ’Twas a constant reminder of his link to Chaela, and he found it pleasurable to feel the burn. It made his blood and the flesh of his body simmer with arousal that did not diminish as he dressed or as he ate his evening meal.

  And when he took a wench to his bed that night and plowed her with the relentless vigor and force of youth, the flames leapt and pulsed on his skin, increasing the strength of his release. The constant pain there magnified his pleasure and his desire for satisfaction.

  It burned its mark on his bedmate when he touched it to her skin. As he took the woman repeatedly through that night, marking her again and again with his new, burning insignia, he found even more pleasure in her terror and anguish. He wondered at what other changes would come with the goddess’s return.

  This particular one he liked.

  Chapter 4

  Seven days.

  Seven days after speaking to the king and hearing his disturbing words and suspicions, William traveled along the road that approached the village of Yester. Two days of preparation had turned to five as he sought out and discovered more bits of hearsay and gossip and, he hoped, some truths about Lord Hugh de Gifford. Some of it, if shared, would make him sound like a raving madman. Not unlike the king had sounded during their shocking conversation.

  He knew better than to share those suspicions or thoughts with anyone, or he’d find himself hanged for treason. Glancing over at the men riding at his side, William thought on how to parse out the needed details without revealing what the king had prohibited him from sharing. Roger and Gautier had guarded his back more times than he could remember. Herve, though new to his men, had proven himself valiant and strong in battle. All of them were worthy of the truth, but did he dare?

  Shielding his eyes from the midday sun, he studied the road ahead of them. Upon leaving Dunfermline, their journey proceeded without interruption or delay, first to the south and then to the east, where Lord Hugh’s lands and keep lay.

  “Have you been this way before, Will?” Gautier asked as he brought his mount to William’s left.

  “Nay. I have visited but a few places in these lands and not this one.”

  Even as he spoke those words, images filled his thoughts. Three other approaches to de Gifford’s village and at least one secret way into his castle. Secret no more. Searching farther away from the castle, William saw three guard posts along the road from Gifford to Yester, too. They need not worry about those for now.

  “You seem familiar with these lands.” Gautier said, almost in accusation. The words hung in the air between them.

  William shrugged and shook his head, letting the gesture hang out there in the space between them. Whether good fortune or the fates, a small traveling party appeared on the road behind them, coming through the thick line of forest and onto the more open, exposed fields.

  “These people may know of the route we should take.”

  In a few minutes, the group of peasants caught up with them. A man who was tall, broad-chested, broad-shouldered, and older than the rest led them. William’s gaze fell on a young woman standing behind the man, to the side of the horse-drawn cart.

  “Good day, my lord,” the man said as he stepped, William noticed, between him and the girl. The small group made as to pass them by, but William eased his mount farther onto the path, stopping them.

  “Good day,” William said, nodding only at the one who would meet his gaze. “Do you travel to Yester Village?” With a touch of his heel to his horse’s side, he made the animal sidestep enough for him to see the girl.

  “Aye, we are from the village,” the man replied. With a nod of his head, he added, “’Tis just over the next hill and about a mile on.”

  “And Lord Hugh?” William asked.

  What William could only describe as a shudder passed quickly through the six villagers at the mention of the lord’s name. Only the girl remained unaffected. Damn her, who would not raise her eyes to his! The older man moved as their gazes met once more, preventing William from getting a better look at her.

  “Is Lord Hugh in residence?”

  With neither of them willing to reveal their intentions or knowledge to the other, William might never get an answer. He also could not explain the compulsion burning through him to see the young woman and to speak to her. Was this man her husband then, protecting her from other men? The age difference was no indicator to him. His daughter?

  “Sir,” a soft voice began in faltering French. “I fear we know not.”

  She stepped from the shadow of the large, older man and glanced up at him. Although braced for something, he was not ready for the reaction of his body or mind as their gazes met. A roar filled his ears, and the ground seemed to shake beneath him.

  Older than he’d first thought, she had amber eyes that resembled molten metal, a color that also seemed to surround and outline her form. But he must just be imagining it, for no one else appeared to notice how truly different she was from the rest of them. Everyone else faded, as though they’d lost all the color in their skin and hair and garments. Then, as if in answer to her heated gaze, the patch of skin on his arm burned more, a searing pain that threatened to take his breath away.

  His blood rushed, and the beating of his heart pounded in his ears, both making any words impossible to hear. Without thought, his hand moved to the hilt of his sword as though some danger approached. And, as happened before any battle, his muscles tensed and prepared to give and take blows.

  “William.” It took him a few moments to realize that Roger spoke and shook his shoulder because his gaze and his senses were filled with her. “William.”

  He felt unable to pull his gaze from hers, but he finally tore himself free of the power of it and nodded, once he was able to hear his friend’s words.

  �
�They are returning to Yester. We will have to ride on to see if Lord Hugh is there.”

  “Brienne?” the man said, touching the woman on her shoulder. “Are you well, lass?”

  He watched as the young woman, as Brienne, came back to herself and nodded to the man. “Aye, Father,” she whispered, but William heard the words. Father!

  Whatever had happened, they’d both felt it. The man tugged the girl back closer to his side and then nodded at William and the others.

  “Good day and safe travels to you.”

  Without waiting for his approval or permission, the man guided the group back along the road. No one spoke until they were far enough away not to hear their words.

  “Merde! I thought you would bed her in the road before all of us,” Herve said with a laugh. “Though I’ve never known you to pay heed to a woman of that kind.” William did not seek out virgins, and he did not seek those in service to their lords who could not gainsay him.

  “Her father saw your intention with one look, and now he will lock her away until we are gone from this business with Lord Hugh,” Gautier said. “A bit homely for my tastes, but to each”—he nodded at each of them—“his own.”

  “Homely? You think her plain of face?” he asked. She was radiant and stunning to him, her eyes glowing like a fiery ingot, her womanly curves outlined by the same glow. How could they think her otherwise? The three laughed aloud at his words and nodded. “Truly?”

  “Aye,” Herve said. “Though a woman’s beauty or lack of it ne’er stopped me from bedding her if she were willing.”

  “Nay, it does not,” Roger agreed. “I have seen you take all manner of women to your bed. Be they young or old, infirmed or in fine mettle, plain-faced or a beauty. You have no refinement in your choices of a bedmate, my friend.”

  William let them continue in their boasting and stared off down the road at the travelers, who’d reached the hill and soon disappeared over it. He motioned to Roger, who rode to his side.

 

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