Enchanted Cottage (Avador Book 3, Books We Love Fantasy Romance)

by Martin, Shirley

  He swung the ax again and again, building up a goodly supply of logs. The poultice that Alana had applied just this morning continually slipped down his arm. Glancing sideways at it, he saw that the tie was loose but could hardly tie it with one arm. He stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow, then returned to his task.

  His thoughts switched to his older brother Leith. He missed him and his father so much. Leith, he mused. Despite his love for his brother—and he did love him, no question about it—he recalled their younger years with a mixture of sorrow and envy. Leith, an expert horseman, could always outrace him. Leith, who always made better grades at the Academy, and who always attracted the women like hummingbirds to flowers. He could never quite measure up to his older brother, no matter how hard he tried. And Leith, of course, would inherit the estate upon the passing of their father, may that day be long in coming.

  The sun rose higher as he worked; enough for today. Tomorrow, he would add to the pile of logs. And after that? Way past time to return home. He missed his family.

  Making several trips, he carried the logs up to the house and set them by the fireplace. Well aware that Alana would need a far greater amount of logs to see her through the winter, he would talk to her later, see if he could enlist the help of a young man from any of the outlying villages.

  He grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter, munching on it as he headed back outside for a walk to the river. He trod the rocky, tree-lined path down to the river, swatting at branches along the way. Along the way, he noticed that his poultice had fallen off. Retracing his steps, he looked frantically for it among the bushes but couldn’t find it. When Alana returned from Moytura, she could apply another.

  He heard the river in the distance, the sound like a waterfall. Sunlight glimmered on the river, its swift-flowing waters gushing over thick boulders and sending out misty sprays.

  Close to the shore, he tossed the apple core aside. He sat down on the cold, wet ground to remove his boots and socks, then rolled his trousers up. When he glanced again toward the river, he saw an old man perched on a tree stump. Where had he come from? His long gray hair fell past his shoulders; a thick beard wreathed his chin. He wore a brown robe that looked as though it had seen better days.

  Colin waded in the cold water and greeted the man.

  The man spoke in a gravelly voice. “I don’t see many people in these parts.”

  Sitting on a boulder, he let the water wash over his feet. “No? Where do you live?”

  The man pointed vaguely toward the distant hills. “Over there, at the foothills of the Orn Mountains.”

  By himself? Colin wondered.

  “And you, young man? What brings you to this lonely spot?”

  He explained about his injury and how he’d found the cottage in the forest. “Only a temporary residence, then I must return home.”

  “When you get home, what will you do?”

  Why all the questions? “Visit my family, then return to the Elegian army, if they’ll have me,” he muttered under his breath.

  But the old man heard him. “Why wouldn’t they have you?” His robe billowed around him, the breeze stronger now.

  Colin turned away for a moment, watching a long-legged sea bird strut farther down along the shore. It flew off with a flapping of wings, then dived down in the water to capture a fish. Sighing, Colin turned back and related the events of the recent battle, as he had told the tale to Alana.

  “Ah.” The man nodded knowingly. “So you left the field in a fit of bitterness, after telling your commanding officer he didn’t know any—“

  ”Don’t put words in my mouth!” Resentment stirred inside him. His head pounded. Who did the old man think he was, scolding him as if he were a naughty schoolboy? “And what do you do?” he countered. “Sit by the river all day?

  He smiled. “Perhaps. I sit here and watch the world go by.” He folded his arms across his thin chest. “It may be difficult for you to believe, but I was young once, just like you.” He gazed off into the distance, as if looking back in time. “Oh, how I hated to be told what to do. I knew everything!” He paused and cleared his throat. “In my younger days, I served as an aide for an Avadoran general … this was long before King Tencien. One day, I was charged with escorting over one hundred refugees from Avador back to their home in Elegia. They had come to Avador to escape the fighting between Elegia and Fomoria. Now, a truce had been declared. You see, young man, that war has lasted for a long, long time. Anyway, I was to escort these people back to their country and was told to follow a certain route. But I knew better, oh, yes, I knew everything. That route would have taken the group ten miles out of our way. So I took a shortcut. All went well at first, until we were ambushed by a Fomorian cohort. Nearly everyone was killed. Only five of us escaped.” He heaved a deep sigh. “I was dishonorably discharged and banished to the Orn Mountains, where I must live for the rest of my days.”

  Speechless at first, Colin found his voice. “And if you tried to leave, to return to your former home—?”

  “If caught, I would suffer a painful death. No, I’m reconciled to my life in isolation. And as you may have guessed, I have one foot in the mortal world and one in the Otherworld. I am in Otherwhere and must remain so.” He gave Colin a long look. “Yes, I suppose I could try to escape, but now, in my old age, I’m determined to live honorably, even if by myself.”

  “But you are here, talking to me now.”

  He chuckled. “You may not believe this, but in all the time I’ve spent in this spot—years and years—I’ve seen only you and one other person in the last nine-day.”

  What other person? Colin wondered. Alana? He remained silent for a long time. He had heard of the immortal people but had never before accepted their existence.

  The old man waved his arm, as if ridding himself of his past. “Now tell me more about this battle. What made you think you should have led the charge?”

  “Because I was the better soldier!” His voice rose. “Bolder, more aggressive. We might have won the battle, had my officer listened to me.” Yet even as he said the words, the old man’s story came back to taunt him. But he would walk one hundred miles naked in the freezing snow before he’d admit he might be wrong.

  “Yes, you might have won the battle. Then again, maybe not. Has it ever occurred to you to accept the judgment of others and to realize you might not always have the answers? And might not always know best?”

  Colin stood to leave. “I don’t need a lecture from you, old man.”

  “But maybe you need to learn humility.”

  Colin scoffed but sat back down. “Humility is for cowards.” His wound itched, but he resisted the urge to scratch it. “When I return to the army, I expect to have my previous rank restored. Surely my commanding officer has seen his mistake by now.”

  “Time will tell. I wish you nothing but good.” He stared off across the river, then turned back to Colin. “Enough about battles and demotions. Do you live alone in this cottage?”

  “No, there was a woman already living there. It … it is quite an innocent relationship,” he explained, fearful to give the wrong impression. “She has tended to my wound, done much for me.”

  “Ah, yes. I met her one day when she came down to the river, but I didn’t get her name.”

  “Alana.”

  “A pretty name for a woman who must have been pretty at one time.” He sighed deeply. “An evil witch put a curse on her.”

  “A curse?” Chills raced down his arms.

  “Her face, young man!”

  “Ah, no, that she should suffer from an evil spell.” He thought for a moment, recalling all the times Alana had taken care of him and listened to his mutterings, but not once had she complained about her tragic misfortune. “How can the curse be lifted?” Poor lady, how she has suffered.

  The old man raised his hands. “Who knows? Possibly she must live with the spell for the rest of her life. But I hope not. By all the gods and goddesses,
I pray that the curse will be defeated.”

  The sun was making its eastward trek across the sky. Colin’s arm ached; his stomach growled, a reminder he should have eaten more than just an apple. Bidding the man a good day, he left the boulder and splashed across the water to fetch his boots and socks. Back on the ground again, he looked toward the river, but the old man was gone. He wondered if he would see him again. Most likely not, for Colin would leave this forest soon to return home.

  Despite his defiant talk, he realized that the old man had given him much to think about. Yet he refused to delve too deeply into the man’s discourse, for then he would have to face his own disquieting thoughts.

  And Alana? If only he could help her.

  He sighed. His arm ached unbearably; his head pounded like hammers beating relentlessly. He lay back on the ground, letting the breeze dry his feet. Dreading the walk back to the cottage, he wished he could stay here by the river and never rise. Countless moments later, he sat up to slip on his socks and pull his boots on. He stood, his head near to bursting. Chiding himself for his weakness, he stopped to rest against an oak tree. He looked ahead to the path that led upward and agonized if he could continue. What had been an easy walk to the river now seemed like a mile long trek before he reached the cottage. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself away from the tree to finish his journey. A few more steps sent him tripping on a tree root, and he fell on all fours. He cursed his clumsiness but finally rose to his feet. The earth tilted. After an eternity, he reached the cottage and staggered inside.

  * * *

  Hearing the door open, Alana spun away from the counter. “Colin! I was worr—wondering about you, where you’ve been.” Her glance covered the fresh stack of logs by the fireplace. “Thank you for chopping wood for me.”

  “I’ll try to do more tomorrow,” he said, his voice slurring. All but losing his balance, he fell into the chair. He slumped, resting his head in his hands.

  She looked at his wound and gasped. “The poultice—why did you take it off?”

  “It fell off while I was walking down to the river. I looked for it but I couldn’t find it.”

  “Ah, no! And now you have dirt in the wound. I’ll wash it now, then—“

  “I’ll be all right tomorrow.” He groaned. “Just need to rest.” He fell forward, his face on the table, and closed his eyes.

  “And I’ll need to prepare a fresh bandage,” she murmured, more worried by the minute. Thankful she kept a pan of hot water by the fireplace, she dipped a cloth into the hot water and squeezed it. First washing the sore as carefully as possible, she tossed the cloth onto the counter, then rushed outside for a calendula plant. She regretted not keeping a supply of crushed calendula in the cottage.

  Back inside, she crushed the petals in a mug and poured boiling water over. By now, I

  should have learned patience. Yet the infusion would do no good unless it sat for a few minutes. While waiting for the infusion to steep, she poured hot water over a mug of dried willow bark for his fever.

  A short while later, she wrapped the poultice around his arm and tied it. She prayed to the Goddess that this treatment would produce healing and that Colin would recover by tomorrow. She feared that she expected too much. He would sleep in her bed tonight, she decided, where he would be more comfortable. She would sleep on the floor.

  She held his head up and urged him to drink the tea, testing her patience to the limit, for she had to continually raise his head. After he drained the mug, she set it aside.

  “Let’s get you to bed now,” she murmured, her arm around his waist to help him stand. His body felt so warm! Several tries later, she raised him from the chair.

  “Sleep here,” he moaned, falling on the floor with a loud thump. He lay on his side, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow.

  For several moments, Alana stared at him. Despite her worries about him, her thoughts rushed in all directions. She recalled the day she had first seen him, lying on the floor as he was now. Every moment of their time together came to mind, such little time, and yet it seemed as if they had known each other for years. Even now, she could hear his voice, that deep rich timbre she could listen to forever. Yes, he was often arrogant, but was that so wrong? Surely a soldier couldn’t be shy or timid. But soon he would leave, out of her life forever. She tried to drive that thought from her mind.

  Aware she could do no more for him now, she sighed and let him remain on the floor. Perhaps later she could help him to bed. Worry had erased any appetite for food, yet it was too early for bed. She brewed herself a mug of chamomile tea and sat at the table with a library book. As the sun sank below the horizon, she rose to light a candle in its candlestick. Yet she couldn’t concentrate on the story and pushed the book aside. Checking on Colin from time to time, she changed his poultice again. He murmured in his sleep and turned onto his side. His skin still felt so warm.

  As darkness fell outside, she carried the candle to her bedroom and prepared for bed. She would sleep little tonight, that she knew. She kept her bedroom door open, in case Colin would need her during the night.

  She had just fallen asleep when Colin’s moans awoke her. Pushing the covers aside, she jumped out of bed. Her stomach tightened; her heart pounded against her chest. Making her way in the dark, she reached him and knelt down beside him. He was burning up! How she wished it were winter, when snow or ice would cool his skin. She rose to check the water in the kettle, finding it had cooled to lukewarm. She sponged him with a wet cloth, then blew on his skin. She did this again and again, desperately praying his fever would break. Would another dose of willow bark tea bring his fever down? She would try it one more time. After brewing the tea, she knelt beside him and raised his head. Long minutes later, he drained the mug and started to lie back down.

  “No, this time you’re going to my bed.” With all her strength, she raised him to a sitting position. He fell back down, and she cried with frustration. After an eternity, she got him to stand. Her arm around his waist, she led him to bed, matching her steps with his faltering ones. Settling him on the edge of the bed, she eased his upper body down, then swung his legs onto the bed. This man was solid muscle. Leaning across the bed, she pushed the window up as far as it would go. She hoped, prayed that the night air would cool his body.

  Returning to the front room, she lay on the hard puncheon floor. She tossed and turned as the hours crept by, her eyes wide open as she stared up at the ceiling. Tears misted her eyes, and she prayed as she never had before that Colin would be well by tomorrow. She feared that she prayed in vain.

  Colin might lose his arm. Or die. Or both.

  Chapter Seven

  Duffrey Estate

  Ulaidh, Avador

  “How I wish Colin were home now.”

  “So do I, son.” Finian Duffrey studied his oldest son, Leith, across the study. Father and son had gathered in this quiet room with its book-lined shelves and shared a decanter of wine after the evening meal. Outside, night was falling, but countless candles in iron sconces gave this expansive room a warm glow. A statue of the main Goddess Talmora stood in a far corner, and a deep green carpet stretched across the floor. Near an opposite wall stood an oaken desk with drawers trailing down on both sides, papers, pen and ink and an hour glass atop its smooth surface.

  In his blue velvet tunic and black leather trousers, Finian looked every bit the patrician. His dark brown hair was turning gray at the temples, and a face lined with wrinkles made him look older than his forty-six years.

  “Colin’s presence would surely give us some assurance in regard to the estate after … after I pass on.”

  Fear and sadness overcame Finian, a stab to his heart. “Don’t say it, son. Your illness is only a temporary setback. Why, any day now, you will rally—“

  ”Look at me, Father. My clothes are hanging on me.” A fit of coughing overcame him, and he raised a handkerchief to his mouth. From where he sat, Finian saw his son’s handkerchief, stained with bloo
d.

  “Let’s face it, Father, and the sooner, the better. We both know I will soon join Mother in the Otherworld—“

  ”Ah, Leith, that you should pass on before I do.” He drew a deep breath. “But you are right about Colin. We need to have him here, now. If we both … if we both pass on to the Otherworld, we must leave with the knowledge that Colin will take good care of this estate. Of course, he would need to resign his commission, but I feel sure that would present no problem.” He raised his hand to his face and sighed. “If we only knew where he is now. Recall I attended a reception at the palace in Moytura last nine-day. I spoke with the Elegian ambassador there. Elegia and Fomoria have declared a truce.” He laughed without humor. “How long this truce will last is anyone’s guess. In any event, Colin should be home by now, and why he isn’t worries me more than I can say.”

  “And I, Father. I can’t imagine where he can be unless, unless….”

  “Ah, don’t say it.” Words caught in his throat. He turned away for a moment, fighting his sadness, his very real fear that he’d never see his younger son again. “Just to be sure, I asked the Elegian ambassador if he’d received any casualty lists from the last battle. ‘Not yet’, he said. That’s Elegia for you, years behind Avador. If it had been our country, we would have had the casualty list immediately after the battle.” He reached for his glass on the table and sipped his wine. “None of this talk solves our problem of who will inherit the estate. Son,” he said, his voice choking, “despite what you may think or my brave talk, I’m prepared to face every eventuality. I may soon join your mother….”

  “I most likely will pass on before you, Father. And if…and if Colin never returns…..”

  “Goddess, no! That I should lose both of my sons!”

  “Then who will inherit the estate, Father? I suppose your cousin Kerwin,” he said with a question in his voice.

  “Not my cousin, not that one. The estate must stay in our immediate family. Colin must return. You don’t know Kerwin well. We seldom see him, since he lives so far away. But I remember him as a child, his selfishness and thoughtlessness of others. He wouldn’t treat our tenants kindly, of that I am sure. Why, he’d tear their cottages down and make them all homeless, just so he could expand the gardens and plant new trees.” He sighed heavily. “I have thought much on Colin’s absence, aye, for a long time. How many moonphases has it been since we last received a letter from him? More than I want to count. Tomorrow, I intend to send a servant to the army headquarters in Elegia, find out if Colin is in that country or where he is now. I would have done this long ago, had my weak heart not kept me in bed for so long. If Colin had been captured by the Fomorians, he would have been released by now, because of the truce.” He drained his wine glass and set the glass on the table, giving him a chance to fight his tears. He mustn’t break down in front of his son.