“The evil one tries to claim him. The firebloods are divided, but it may be too late for that to help.”
The signs had been clearer, and this was more than she’d seen before. As he watched, her eyes rolled back and she rocked from side to side, raising her arms toward the sky. The words of an ancient prayer flowed through her, and she whispered it into the air around them. Even he could feel the amount of power flowing in this area, from Yester. Some was good, some evil, but all of it fed and strengthened her power to decipher the prophecy and find the location.
“We must be ready. We travel north, across the water north of Edinburgh. Into the lands to the northeast of Scotland. That is where the first circle lies.” A frantic nervousness filled her then, and she began to shake. Dropping her arms as her eyes cleared, she cried out, “He knows! He has been there!”
“Aislinn!” Marcus took hold of her and held her by her shoulders as she watched something in the air or in her thoughts pass before her eyes.
“Blood had been spilled at the circle. The evil one pushing her power across the barrier meant to keep her in exile,” she whispered, shaking her head. “So many centuries of waiting and it has begun.”
“Aislinn, breathe now,” he said, shaking her.
She clutched her hands over her ears, as though trying to block out some sounds. Aislinn could not help the warriors of destiny who would face the ancient one if she did not gain control over these visions, much as the warriors had to control the powers in their blood. He’d taught her such control, and together they prayed to the ancient six to aid her in her task. Finally, the shaking calmed and she faced him.
“Better, lass?” he asked, stroking her cheek.
She’d fallen to the ground, and now the rest of the priests surrounded them, drawn to the power of her prophecy. The horror in their gazes revealed what they’d witnessed. Aislinn tried to stand, but her legs would not support her yet.
“Give yourself a moment or two,” he urged, even as he steadied her and helped her up.
“We must head north, Marcus, everyone.” Those gathered looked to Marcus, who nodded.
“Pack and ready yourselves for the journey north,” he said, pointing to a few of them. Then he spoke to the rest of them. “A Warrior seeks the truth. That is the first bloodline mentioned in the prophecy, and I believe we must wait for Sir William. He will lead us north.”
They were neither worldly nor human warriors and would need someone with experience in fighting and planning to lead them. Though he still questioned their history and his part in this, William’s blood had risen. The huge, blue-skinned, single-minded warrior who’d crashed into their camp when he thought the fireblood in danger would be their protector—and hers. In spite of their attempts to teach him, it was his own self-doubt that held his powers at bay.
“Aye, Marcus. William will lead us once he comes to us. Be prepared to do what he tells you to do,” Aislinn confirmed.
The others scattered to do as she and Marcus bade them, and she stared off at the castle in the distance. In spite of some spell keeping it muted, it was no doubt the center of the evil one’s power. It would begin there and spread out, evil trying to snuff out that which opposed it. He sent up prayers that they would all be strong enough to carry out their parts in this quest.
It began now, and by the time it was finished, the world could be brought to its end.
Gods have mercy.
* * *
William watched as the very large group began its trek out of Yester Castle. He counted more than three score soldiers escorting the lord’s wife and daughter on their journey back to their lands in France.
“So many?” Roger asked from over his shoulder. “Do they travel through some hostile area I know not?”
“My thoughts as well,” he said. “Return to the camp. Send a man to follow them.” William turned to Roger. “Not to be seen.”
Roger nodded and left.
“Gautier and Armand, you both remain here until the castle is returned to its usual condition and then make your way back.”
“Will . . . ” Gautier began to argue.
“I plan to follow. We must get word to the king about the weapons cache even if I do not know its purpose yet. And I want you both well away from here.”
The strangeness increased with the dawn. A rumbling kind of sound, which he could feel around and within him, had woken him. He could feel it in his chest and with every breath. From the ashen faces of those around him, he was not alone in the experience.
“Get everyone ready to leave.”
“And go to . . . ?” Gautier asked.
Will shrugged. “Just be at the ready. Arms and armor,” he added.
It took some time for the large group to travel out of the yard, over the bridge and through the gates. As the carts, horses, and men on foot trickled out, William saw Gavin and the boy who’d kissed Brienne being led in by several guards. Tempted to follow, he stopped when Gavin met his gaze and shook his head slightly.
Bringing Gavin and the boy here, to the family’s residence from their path, meant only one possible thing, and it was not good. He knew how men like Hugh controlled—through fear and pain. Pawns to be played. Was Brienne resisting Lord Hugh’s plans, then?
A servant approached with a summons to meet with Lord Hugh, and William knew he would find out more. With a nod, he released Gautier and Armand, who would leave as soon as they could.
Following the servant, who kept glancing behind himself nervously, William paused inside the family residence. He looked down the corridor and listened for signs of the men, but found no trace of them. Lifting his head, he inhaled and knew they had been here.
Instead of going to the large chamber where they’d dined the night before or some other Presence Chamber, the servant trotted ahead, beckoning him to follow, up several stairways to a chamber on the top floor. They walked to the last chamber, and the servant knocked lightly, whispering his lord’s name before he ran away.
The door was framed in a wood William had never seen and intricately carved with symbols and images. Most were unknown to him, but one caught his attention. It was the same battle-ax shape that was now burning in the flesh of his arm. But the one symbol used most often to decorate this frame was fire.
Brienne had some power over fire, which seemed to have come from Lord Hugh. Where did William’s power come from? His beliefs in the world around him shifted in that moment as he finally accepted what Marcus had tried to tell him. It was not a good feeling.
If he had this power, then who else did? Who bore the other symbols on the doorframe? And what powers did they carry?
The door opened and Brienne greeted him and bade him enter with a shy smile and a pale pink blush. She stepped back to allow him entrance.
Gavin’s scent was here. He could smell it. Will glanced around the chamber and saw only Lord Hugh, sitting in a chair that was not unlike a throne. As he moved farther into the chamber and Brienne closed the door, the overwhelming odors assaulted his senses and he fought not to show his shock.
Pain and fear permeated the chamber and even the walls. Will had not imagined that those two things had scents, but he knew them now. Glancing toward Lord Hugh and attempting to approach him was nearly impossible due to the stench of dying and death. As he crossed the chamber to bow before the lord, the smoky smell of burning flesh and wood filled his nostrils and his gaze began to edge toward red.
And yet Brienne was unaffected.
Meeting her eyes, he knew that was not true—she was fighting something as well. Her mouth gave it away, her lower lip trembling as it did when she was nervous or afraid. In that moment, he knew he must get her out of here to safety. He must take her . . . now.
“My lord,” he began, as he rose from the bow. “I know this is precipitous, but I would offer for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
<
br /> Brienne’s shock showed immediately on her face, but before she could react, Lord Hugh’s loud laughter filled the chamber.
“My bastard for the king’s bastard, then, Sir William? Do you think it a good match?” Lord Hugh stood and walked to Brienne’s side, lifting her face as though examining her skin. “She is fetching—is she not?”
Will did not respond. His vision began to redden, and he took in a slow, deep breath, trying to force it out. He needed to be calm now. He needed to be in control. For her. For her.
“Was she what you expected in your bed? As fiery and lively as her mother was in mine?”
Brienne gasped and pulled from his grasp. “You knew?” she accused. “You knew I went to him?”
She did not deny or explain what had happened between them. She only studied her father’s face, and then the realization of the extent and methods he used to control her crossed her lovely features. She raised her hand then, swinging toward Lord Hugh to slap him.
And froze in place.
When Will tried to reach her, he could not, for something—someone—was in his thoughts, stopping him. Every attempt to move resulted in crippling pain. His vision began to narrow and grow more red as he could only watch the scene before him.
No words were spoken between father and daughter, but some battle raged on between them. If Hugh was using the same pain against her, how did she survive it? When she crumpled to the floor at Hugh’s feet with a cry, he knew the victor. Lord Hugh walked in front of Will, exerting his power against him to keep him immobile.
“You want her, William Warblood? She is yours. And you need not bind yourself to her in marriage, since I know you hope to find a more suitable bride to establish your line. Take her; use her; keep her or discard her when you finish with her.”
Hugh circled him, now chuckling, as Will tried to force his hold off. He’d used the same word or name that Marcus had in describing him—warblood. So Hugh knew.
“You need only to give yourself and your powers over to me and she is yours. But there is so much more at stake now. You can have your own kingdom. Establish your own bloodline and dynasty. Take what you want from the humans who will serve us. Take who you want. It can be yours with a word, Warblood.”
William continued to fight for control and failed as Hugh walked around him, taunting him, teasing him, tempting him to join this growing evil.
“Oh wait!” he said, a sarcastic bite in his voice. “It appears you cannot move.” Suddenly, the pain in his head increased, and he screamed against it . . . but no sound came out of his throat. His lungs would not take in air.
“You have a decision to make, William. You can accept your destiny and be at my side in the great endeavor to right an ancient wrong,” he said, continuing to walk around him. When he stood directly before him, he said, “Or you can watch her die before you do.”
The pain holding him there was so great, he could not even move his gaze to see her on the floor. His body shuddered and shook as he tried to change and could not. He could not even breathe. Some force held him in place and kept his warblood from rising.
“This is bigger than your quest for lands, King’s Knight. This is bigger than your father the king or even Scotland. And by standing with me, you will gain more than you ever imagined you could. She is the least of it, but she can be yours.”
Then he was free, and he fell to his knees on the floor, dragging in huge gasps of air and forcing his lungs to breathe. Will tried to reach for Brienne who still did not move, but Hugh stopped him, stepping between them and dragging him back to his feet.
“Join me. Join us. I will show you how to use the power of your warrior blood as we travel north to accomplish our holy quest,” he whispered in the voice that every evil temptation used. “We will be invincible.” Then Hugh thrust him away toward the door and watched him through veiled eyes with his arms crossed over his chest.
“You have two hours, Warblood. Send your men packing and stand with us or fall with them.” Hugh lifted his head and nodded toward the hillside where Marcus hid.
“And Brienne?” he asked, unwilling to leave her behind. His senses told him he had no choice.
“She is alive until you make your choice.”
William knew he was lying, but he could not take the chance to challenge him on it. If she was alive, it was because Hugh needed her for some purpose, for some part of this “great endeavor” of which he spoke. Alone, he could not defeat this man who held such inhuman powers. He needed help and needed to get to them now. Will lifted the latch and was pushed through the door. When it slammed behind him, he could not open it again.
He ran, grabbing his horse and riding as fast as he could out of Yester Castle, with the terrible stench still in his nostrils. Brienne was in danger and he must find a way to get back to her and help her.
By the time he reached the hillside opposite his own camp, he could barely keep his vision clear and his blood from seething through his body, changing it. But he would, because right now in this moment, it was the only way to save her. He jumped from his horse before it had even stopped and stood before Marcus and the young seer.
“Tell me more. Tell me what I have to do.”
Chapter 21
“Brienne.” The voice was like a whisper, slipping into the darkness where she existed now. “Brienne, sweet, wake up.”
“Father?” It was Gavin’s voice that spoke to her, calling her toward him.
Pain! More pain struck her and she fell back.
“Brienne.” He called her once more. She forced her eyes open.
She lay on the stone floor of a chamber she’d never seen before. Gavin and James knelt next to her, staring down at her. They helped her to stand, and she remembered battling her father over William. Turning around she saw Lord Hugh there, standing before a wall, staring at it.
“What is this place?” she asked, brushing the dirt from her palms and pushing her hair out of her face. She could see and feel the terror in both Gavin and James. He answered instead.
“This is the first sacred place my grandfather discovered here in Scotland. An ancient circle of stones buried deep in the ground. The king at the time gave my grandfather these lands, never knowing of the kind of power that existed here.”
He lifted his hands and touched the wall, almost caressing it, as he slid his hands carefully over its surface in a circular motion. She shivered just watching him.
“Are we belowground now?” The dampness and cold spoke of a cavern or a cave that sank deep into the bedrock.
“Aye. This chamber was the first one built by the goddess,” he replied. He faced her now, but never lost contact with the wall. “Chaela sent her power through to my grandfather, and he used it to build this,” he said, glancing around the chamber. “Now that you are awake, you will feel it.”
And she did.
Her blood carried it through her body. Every brick in this chamber had been touched by evil. And she had been, too, since the same power of this evil flowed through her blood. She knew what was about to happen, so she flung herself away from Gavin and James.
And became fire.
A body of living, breathing, moving fire.
She could see the horror and shock in their faces but paid them no heed.
The fireblood was free now, and she reveled as its power pulsed through her, burning and surging stronger each moment. She walked over to where her father stood and reached out with hands of fire to touch the wall as he did, trying to glean the source of its power. Instead she felt something moving toward them from the other side.
“What comes?” she asked in a whisper of heat and sound. She knew it was a being of immense force and it approached from behind that barrier. The fire that she was now could not resist its call.
The wall disappeared to nothing. Her fiery hands passed through the opening and she wai
ted. It was coming.
Chaela was coming.
Her father’s laughter grew louder, and she sensed that it was coming from a place of desolation and emptiness. An instant later, the searing touch of another fire melded with hers, and she screamed in agony and ecstasy as they merged. This was nothing like what she’d felt when her father had touched her or punished her.
She fell back then, swirling and burning and screaming from the inconceivable power and pain of the one. Gathering her fire, she moved closer to the goddess. Peering into the place beyond the barrier there, she watched and waited and saw something so magical and ancient that her human mind could not comprehend it. It flickered inside her thoughts, but she could not hold the image there.
“This is our goddess. This is—”
CHAELA.
The voice screamed it so loudly that every brick and stone in the chamber shuddered. Gavin and James fell unconscious at the sound. The pull of it, the call of it, drew her once more, her flames silently sliding toward the opening.
“Our power flows from her, daughter. Chaela is the source of all firebloods. Worship HER now and forever.”
She could no more refuse than she could change her form back to the human she used to be. She moved across the chamber and lowered herself to the floor, sliding her flaming hands back into the barrier in obedience. She waited for the terrible torment to strike.
Daughter of my blood. Daughter of my fire, Chaela said, as the goddess caressed Brienne’s hands with scalding, molten heat until she lost herself to it, screaming at the unending anguish. Memories of betrayal and exile flowed between them through this fiery connection. She saw the ancient ones. She watched their attack. She felt their powers against Chaela and saw her defeat.
Released a moment or an hour later, she crawled away from the barrier and lay on the floor.
“Brienne!” her father said. Opening her eyes, she watched as he crouched down next to her and put his hand into the very heart of her flames. “Come back now.”
She pulled the fire back deep inside her, gathering it back into her blood so that her human body returned then. Her skin was singed black and smoking while the birthmark on her human arm still blazed. The pain of it mixed with something else. Some feeling like the pleasure that she felt at William’s touch filled her body and blood then. Waves of pain and pleasure blended as her skin cooled and healed.
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