FREE SPIRIT

by JennaKay Francis

  "I thought you were supposed to be a healer. Why am I still sick?"

  "I don’t know, master."

  He snapped her with a bit of magic but it was far weaker than anything he had ever done before. "Well, you had better find out and cure it!"

  "Perhaps some more tea would help," she suggested. "Would you like any dinner?"

  Marsden grew paler still at the very words and shook his head. "Just tea will be fine. And you will sleep with me tonight, Diesa. Next to me."

  Diesa tried to keep her face impassive though she wondered at his words. Why would he suddenly demand she sleep next to him? Was it because of his weakened magic or was it because he would not able to put up a WardSpell to secure her? She pondered those questions as she prepared his tea, again adding liberal doses of both the thyme and the black willow. If they went anywhere on the morrow it would be a miracle.

  That night she lay next to him, his arms encircling her, his chest pressed against her back. He had buried his face in her hair and she could feel his warm breath against her neck. It sent little shivers of disgust through her. Still, he had not once touched her in a sexual way. The black willow was no doubt having its desired effects. Her gaze shifted to the sky and the moon that hung bright against the darkness. She wondered where Scanlon was, wondered what would happen if he did find her. Was he stronger than Marsden? Would he be able to overpower him? And if he did, what would Scanlon do with her? She couldn’t figure him out. He had sounded worried, upset and sad, not angry as she had supposed he would be. Perhaps he was sincere in his words of regret. Perhaps he really was sorry about what had been said. Perhaps, perhaps, he even loved her, just a little bit. She sighed, realizing it was only her own desire.

  ::Diesa.:: His voice filtered into her mind. ::You don’t need to answer. I just wanted to …Well, I just wanted to let you know that we are still looking for you. And that—:: He broke off as if unsure whether or not to continue.

  Diesa’s heart spasmed with grief. She wanted so badly to talk to him, to tell him where she was, that she forgave him for his accusations. But could she dare? Marsden had said the next time would be even more painful for her. Yet she knew his magic had been weakened by the thyme sickness. She wondered if that weakness also affected the elfin web and decided that she had to take a chance, had to at least let Scanlon know that she was thinking about him too. And she had to warn him about what Marsden had said about Kittellan and Drake.

  ::M’lord, Kittellan—:: She broke off with a small groan of agony, not able to finish.

  There was a momentary silence, then Scanlon answered, his voice suddenly cool and detached. ::Yes, Diesa, Kittellan is with me. Drake stayed back with Magus. I will tell Kittellan that your thoughts are with him. Perhaps he should have come alone.::

  No! Diesa thought wildly. No, you don’t understand! Oh, gods! My thoughts are with you, Scanlon! With you! She took a deep breath, prepared to suffer the pain once more to clarify her statement but at that moment Marsden woke with a start and a roar of rage.

  "Again, Diesa?" he seethed. "Will you never learn?"

  She yelped as he increased the web’s magic, then struggled to free herself from his arms, her anger and despair surging forward. "No! I will keep trying to reach him, Marsden! You may as well kill me now because I won’t stop!"

  Darkness settled in Marsden’s eyes and he came to his feet, towering over her. "Kill you?" he breathed, his whole body trembling. "I have no intention of killing you, Diesa. As you said, how could you serve me dead? And serve me you will." He reached out and grabbed her by the wrists, pulling her off the ground. "And in time, Diesa, you may wish you were dead."

  She stared into his eyes and saw only hatred and revenge there. Her stomach knotted as he lowered her back to the ground. His fingers had made red welts on her wrists and she rubbed them warily.

  "Gather our things," he snapped. "We’re leaving!"

  "Leaving? But it’s the middle of the night!"

  He rounded on her and brought his hand across her face in a hard slap. "Gather our things," he said again and stormed away.

  Diesa blinked back her tears of pain and did as she was told. Her breath came in ragged gasps of terror and when he returned from the bushes she shrank away from him. He secured the saddlebags, then grabbed her and practically threw her astride the horse before swinging up behind her.

  They rode through the night, emerging from the dark forest into a village just waking with morning. Marsden made straight for a small wooden building nestled near the center of town and as they approached, Diesa’s heart sank. The village healer.

  Marsden drew the stallion up outside and tethered the beast, then pulled her down by one arm. "Now, Diesa," he said quietly, "we’ll see just what was in that tea of yours."

  He took down the saddlebag with the herbs, pulled her up the two wooden steps, across the narrow porch and into the small office. An old woman looked up them and smiled. Diesa shot her a pleading glance but the old woman’s words stilled any hope.

  "Lord Marsden!" the woman cried, rising from her chair. "It has been a long while indeed." Her brow furrowed and she reached up to place a hand against Marsden’s forehead. "You look ill, M’lord."

  Marsden slammed the saddlebag onto the table standing in the corner. "Lita, there are some herbs in the bag. Can you tell me what they are?"

  The woman pushed back wispy locks of white hair and opened the bag. She withdrew the tin of wild thyme and the bark and catkins of the willow. It took her only a moment and she gave Diesa a questioning glance.

  "Did you gather these?" she asked.

  Diesa said nothing, terror stilling her tongue. Marsden’s grip tightened on her arm and he shook her.

  "Answer," he ordered.

  "Y … yes, I did," she murmured.

  Lita’s thin white eyebrows rose and she shook her head, clucking her tongue. "Those that are not familiar with herbs shouldn’t use them," she said.

  "What are they?" Marsden asked.

  "This one is wild thyme," Lita told him, indicating the tin. "And this is black willow."

  "And they are used for what?" Marsden pressed.

  "Well, wild thyme, when used properly is quite a good stomach tonic. I suspect though, from the way you look, that she used a bit too much. And that can cause sweats and retching among other things. As for this"—she picked up the willow bark—"this can be used for fevers and aches and pains and the likes, but it is more commonly used to"—her gaze shot to Diesa, almost with amusement, before she continued—"to dull sexual appetite."

  Marsden’s fingers dug into Diesa’s skin and his face went red with both anger and embarrassment. "And what do I do to get this poison out of my system, Lita?" he asked, his voice so tight it was barely audible.

  "It’ll work its way out," Lita said with a shrug. "When’s the last time you had either of these?"

  "Last night."

  "Then I should think that by this evening, you’ll be fine. Just drink plenty of fresh water to wash it out."

  Marsden drew a deep breath. "Thank you, Lita," he said, then laid two gold coins on the table. "As always, your help is appreciated." He picked up the saddlebags.

  "And, as always, your business is appreciated," Lita replied and snatched up the two gold coins as if she thought he would take them back.

  Marsden hauled Diesa back outside and down the steps to the stallion. Without a word he tied the saddlebags on, then swung astride. He looked down at her. "You seem to have a lot of energy," he said coldly. "You may walk. But you had better keep up."

  He turned his steed north and started away. Diesa stared after him in amazement and confusion. Walk? Follow him? Why would she? Her answer came swiftly. Pain tore through her and she automatically started after him. Damn him! If she had her own magic, she would—

  She gasped! Her magic! Had Scanlon released it? Had he realized that she could use it against Marsden? She cautiously tested herself, then fumed when she got no response.

  No
t even now! Not even now when she desperately needed it would Scanlon give it back to her. Her growing concern for him vanished. Why did he seek her? For what purpose? To drag her back? To prove that she was indeed no more than a slave? She had thought he came after her because he cared for her. But was that really the case? Or was Marsden right? Was the real difference between him and Scanlon only her love for the latter?

  Another stab of pain hit her and she quickened her pace, feeling like a complete fool to trail so obediently along after him. She was getting amused and interested stares from the villagers as she passed and her cheeks burned in humiliation. She was almost glad when she and Marsden once again entered the forest away from prying and degrading eyes. Marsden showed no signs of slowing his pace and she stumbled along after him. The undergrowth was thick and seemed to consist mostly of barbed shrubs that caught at her clothes and skin. And Marsden seemed to be taking great delight in choosing a trail that was particularly hard to traverse. He made her slog through ankle-deep mud, climb over fallen trees and pick her way through low-growing nettles. Finally toward evening they reached a wide, fast-flowing stream. Diesa watched as Marsden’s stallion plunged in and forded the stream in moments.

  With a resigned sigh she stepped into the water. It was wickedly cold. She managed only several steps before the nerves in her feet and legs came alive with pain. Hastily, she retreated to the bank, barely able to walk.

  "I’m waiting, Diesa," Marsden said from the other side.

  "I can’t," she cried. "The water is too cold!"

  A small grin crossed his face. "I am waiting," he repeated.

  Diesa stared at him in pure rage. "I can’t," she said again. "It’s too cold!"

  "You will." His voice was tight and as cold as the water and Diesa felt him begin to manipulate her with his magic, much in the way Scanlon had done so many months before.

  Her body seemed to move of its own will and she gasped as she plunged into the stream. Agony swept through her as the icy liquid rushed around her legs. Her feet became like lead, each step more difficult than the last. The water swirled higher, numbing her thighs. Still, Marsden pulled her forward. Diesa’s head began to spin, her senses overwhelmed with pain, and she stumbled, falling hard. She had only enough time to suck in a great breath of air before the water closed over her head. She scrambled for her footing but her numb extremities allowed her no success. For a second longer she fought against the current, then simply let it take her.

  Marsden’s magic woke her moments later. She lay on the muddy banks of the stream completely drenched. Her only consolation was that Marsden was almost as wet as she was. He glared at her, then spun, snatched up his saddlebag and disappeared into the thick brush. Diesa lay where he had deposited her, shivering in the cold air, her rage the only thing keeping her warm. In a few moments, he reappeared in dry clothing and once more mounted his horse.

  "Let’s go," he said calmly.

  Diesa stared up at him, agape, then started as he fired a warning jolt of magic at her. She staggered to her feet and followed him once again, though her body trembled with both cold and fatigue. Marsden kept her moving for another hour before he finally stopped to camp for the night. Diesa sank to the ground, exhausted. He looked down at her with a small smile, then hunkered down beside her. He reached out and gently traced her jaw line with one finger.

  "Do you think we’re even now, Diesa?" he asked softly.

  She averted her gaze, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears that gathered there.

  "Have you no words for me, Diesa? No words for your master?"

  Her tears spilled over and rolled down her cold cheeks. He brushed them aside, then touched her under the chin and tilted her head back so that he could look into her eyes.

  "Such fire," he mumbled. "Such strength. How long will that strength last?" He bent forward and kissed her tenderly.

  Diesa had no will left to fight him and merely accepted. He sat back with a grin. "We need a fire and then you may prepare some dinner. And no tea this time, Diesa. Just wine."

  He moved to the horse and took down the saddlebags, then brought them to her. She pushed herself to stand, though her head spun, and began to gather kindling for a fire. It seemed to take forever but soon she was seated before a roaring flame trying to recapture some of the heat that had fled her body over the last hour. Her hands shook as she prepared Marsden a meager dinner of bread, cheese and meat. He watched her carefully and when she served his meal, he inspected it thoroughly before eating. She sat near the fire and munched absently on a small chunk of dry bread.

  "Here." Marsden unexpectedly held out the wine flask. "It’ll warm your insides."

  She shook her head. "No thank you, Master."

  "It is not a request, Diesa. Take it."

  She sighed but took the flask and swallowed a small amount. It burned a path all the way to her stomach and she handed it back. Marsden hesitated, then motioned her to take another drink. She did so and he retrieved the flask. "Get a blanket and wrap up," he instructed.

  Diesa reached for the blanket, wondering at his motives. But he seemed to have nothing more on his mind than her welfare and she settled back before the fire, shivering.

  ::Diesa?:: Scanlon’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  She ignored him and concentrated on the flames flickering before her.

  ::Diesa, listen to me. I am going to try to break Marsden’s hold on you so that we may talk. I am releasing your magic but I must caution you against using it on Marsden.::

  Diesa tried to control her thoughts, her reaction to his words. Her magic! He was giving her back her magic! It was almost more than she could do to keep from screaming out with joy. She pulled her blanket tighter about her and lowered her forehead onto her knees.

  ::When I release your magic, direct it to the spell he has on your thoughts. I will add my own magic and, together, we will loose his grip on you. Please, Diesa, please do only what I say with your magic. If you try to use it against him, he will destroy you.::

  Diesa trembled with anticipation, Scanlon’s words not even registering. Her magic. She would have her magic at her disposal once again. And then, Marsden, we’ll see how you like to be manipulated. A moment later, the gentle warmth of dryad magic flowed through her. She welcomed it, accepted it, cherished it. It was hers again and she was whole. She brought her gaze up. Marsden was watching her through narrowed eyes heavy with suspicion. The wine was almost gone and he handed the flask to her.

  "Here, take the rest."

  "I don’t want it," she retorted.

  His expression never changed. "I insist."

  "And I decline," she said.

  Marsden abruptly laughed. "So! Scan has returned you your magic. How touching."

  She started, caught off guard. "H—how—?"

  He laughed again. "And I suppose he wants you to send it to him so that he can blow my elfin web apart? Well, go ahead, do so. Oh, but before you do, there is something you should know. When I sealed your thoughts with the elfin web, I included your little woman-boy. What is his name? Kittellan? Yes, Kittellan. When you destroy a web spell, the pain can be excruciating. Now, you and Scan, of course, can adequately shield yourselves with your magic, but what of poor Kittellan? Who will shield him? Who will keep him from shrieking with agony?"

  Diesa stared at him in disbelief. "You … you can’t do that! Scanlon will know. He’ll be able to sense it!"

  "Oh?" Marsden shrugged. "Perhaps he can, perhaps he can’t. Are you willing to take that risk?"

  ::Diesa,:: Scanlon’s voice came again. ::I am waiting.::

  Diesa swallowed hard, her gaze riveted on Marsden. He gave a smug smile and settled back against his saddle. "Now then, the black willow has worn off, Diesa. Why don’t you come and keep me company?"

  Chapter 15

  * * *

  Diesa struggled to keep her eyes open. She had not slept the previous night, too upset over Marsden’s words to settle down. She had not contacted Sca
nlon, nor had she released her magic to him. She wasn’t about to risk any pain to Kittellan because of her. Scanlon had questioned her several more times and at last had given up. The ensuing silence had torn at her heart. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he must be thinking.

  In fact, she had given up. Marsden seemed to have her exactly where he wanted her. She couldn’t contact Scanlon without hurting herself and she couldn’t follow his instructions without hurting Kittellan. She began to wish that he and Scanlon would both just turn around and go home. It would be safer for them and easier for her.

  She had come to the conclusion that there was nothing more left for her with Scanlon. He was a prince. She was no more than a whore now. Even if Scanlon had loved her, she had been defiled too many times to be anything more than a slave. It seemed that her lot in life had been decided and that Marsden would be her future. The thought did not entice her but she could see no way short of death to change it.

  "There, Diesa," Marsden interrupted her weary thoughts and pointed.

  She followed his gesture. The forest thinned, giving way to more of the deciduous trees such as alder, birch, cottonwood and even an occasional maple. Beyond, the land opened up into a wide stretch of gray-green grasses yet, past that, more forest loomed. "Where is this place?" she asked.

  "We are nearly to Crayoven," Marsden replied.

  She started. "Crayoven? Why would we go there?"

  He shrugged and once more urged the stallion forward. "Several reasons. Crayoven is a human territory. Elfin rule does not apply there. In fact, they have laws against elfin magic. And I understand they have a very lucrative slave market."

  Diesa’s gut knotted with despair. "Then you mean to sell me?" she asked.

  Marsden was silent for a long moment as the horse picked his way down a small slope toward the grassland. "I guess that all depends on you, Diesa," he said at last. "But from what I have heard, Crayoven masters are quite nasty toward their women. I shouldn’t think you would want to become a slave there."