"And what would I need to do to prevent that?" Diesa asked, playing along with his game.
"Well, for starters, stop defying me."
Diesa stiffened. "Never!"
Marsden chuckled, though it was without mirth. "Then your future will be what it will be."
"Scanlon will come for me," she said. "He’ll buy me from whatever master I have."
"Masters don’t always want to sell," Marsden pointed out.
"Money has a way of convincing them otherwise," Diesa retorted hotly.
"Perhaps, perhaps not. Crayoven masters take great delight in their women. Particularly a woman who has magic."
"Why is that?" Diesa could not suppress her curiosity.
"They like the challenge, Diesa. They take great joy in controlling their slaves. They have any number of ways to accomplish that. Would you like to know of some?"
"No!" Her response was automatic and brought a laugh from him.
He leaned forward and nuzzled against her neck, his breath hot and damp. She shivered and pulled away.
"What did you mean about elfin magic not being allowed there? How can they support such a law?"
"With death," Marsden answered simply. "Elves are required to wear an iron talisman when in Crayoven. It effectively blocks their magic. If they are found without it, they are killed. No exceptions."
"Then why do you go there? You’re an elf."
"I am part elf," Marsden corrected. "My mother was a human. Can you guess where she was from, Diesa?"
Diesa gasped, her eyes going wide. "Crayoven?"
His laughter cut through her like a knife through butter. "You are so quick, Diesa."
She burned at the sarcasm but said nothing further. Marsden also fell silent and, once on the plains, urged the stallion forward at a gallop.
::Diesa?:: Scanlon’s voice intruded on her thoughts once again and she cringed. ::Kittellan and I have found your camp from last night. I would guess that we are no more than five or six hours behind you. If we continue without rest and you stop for the night we should be able to overtake you and Marsden. He is heading for Crayoven. Elfin law does not extend there and I will not be able to utilize my magic against him. Because he is part Crayoven, he has been allowed to retain his use of magic. If there is any way that you can detain him, keep him from crossing the border. It will give me an edge.::
Diesa sighed softly. So this then was the reason for Marsden’s hurried pace north. If he could get to Crayoven, he could attack Scanlon with magic. And there was precious little Scanlon could do to fight back. Her mind whirled. Detain him? How? How could she possibly keep him from his goal? She could certainly think of one way, but just the idea sent her skin crawling. She closed her eyes and wracked her brain. And then it came to her.
"Master," she said, opening her eyes. "I need to stop for a few moments. I need to relieve myself."
Marsden slowed the stallion’s gait. "Very well. I’m getting hungry anyway. But it won’t be a long stop. Just enough for some bread and cheese." He pulled the stallion up short and dismounted, then helped her down.
The grass came nearly to her waist here and moved like silk against her. Marsden flattened a place large enough to sit and collapsed onto his back with a sigh. "Go, then," he said, waving her away.
Diesa paused only a moment, then made her way through the grasses away from him. She looked back only once to make sure he was still lying down, then quickly completed her toilet. A sharp snap of magic from Marsden told her he was waiting impatiently. She almost fired one of her own but held herself in check. Scanlon had warned her not to do so.
On her way back she scanned the ground looking for a small stone, a sharp stick, a burr, anything that would help her carry out her plan. She finally found something. A cluster of dried and forgotten seeds lay on the ground. She picked them up and ran her fingers over them. They were scratchy, irritating. Perfect. She hid them in her tunic pocket and returned to Marsden.
"My turn," he said and rose.
He walked only several paces away before relieving himself, obviously not embarrassed in the slightest that he was within her view. She turned away in disgust and unstrapped the saddlebags. At the same time she slipped the seed cluster under the stallion’s saddle, positioning it in such a way that Marsden’s weight would press it into the animal’s skin.
"I’m sorry," she whispered to the horse. "Please know that."
Lunch went very fast. Marsden was in no mood to linger. As soon as the saddlebags were once again strapped on, he placed Diesa on the horse’s back and swung up.
Instantly the stallion reacted. He threw his head back, his eyes wild with surprise and pain, then reared up on his hind legs to remove the offender. Diesa was ready and had grabbed great handfuls of the stallion’s mane. Marsden, however, was caught completely off guard. Thrown from the horse, he hit the ground hard. The stallion bolted, racing out over the grasslands with Diesa clinging to his back.
She knew it would not last long. When the stallion realized he was no longer in pain he would slow, stop, and eventually return to his master. She scooted back on the saddle, trying to press the seedpod down. She was at least partially successful and the stallion continued on, racing across the ground. Diesa could see where the land sloped downward and she turned the horse toward it. She knew that a change in footing would spook the stallion even further and she prepared for it. As soon as she felt him change gait, she threw herself from the saddle.
She landed hard, but allowed herself to roll down the slope toward the bottom of a small ravine. Trees and thick shrubs lined the narrow ravine and Diesa took refuge in them. So far Marsden had not hit her with any magic. Perhaps the fall had stunned him, or even knocked him unconsciousness. She could only hope for the latter.
She turned her steps west, away from Crayoven, away from Marsden. Her breath came hard and fast, burning her lungs. Her legs ached from the strain of the cramped position but still she continued, her fear driving her forward. She hadn’t gotten far when Marsden hit her with a bolt of his magic. Instinctively, she brought her own magic forward and shielded herself against the pain.
"Diesa!" Marsden’s voice carried out over the grasslands.
She froze, her chest constricting in terror. She tried to quiet her breathing, to still her trembling. Slowly she crept forward, keeping hidden in the bushes, wondering what Marsden would do when he caught up with her. She would claim innocence, of course, and swear that she had been thrown by the horse and rolled here into the bushes. And he would believe her. Right. She frowned and continued on.
"Diesa!" Marsden’s voice came again.
Oh, gods, she breathed. Please don’t let his horse go back to him.
She huddled near a thick bush and tried to calm herself. If she could just stay out of his sight until dark she might have a chance. She glanced upward into the trees. They were mostly poplar and birch, too fragile to really climb—at least high enough to be out of sight.
"Diesa!" Marsden’s voice had changed. He was calling to her almost teasingly, as if he knew right where she was, as if this were no more than a game.
The tone sent chills through her and she pressed further into the bush, her thoughts muddling into incoherence. What could she do? How could she escape? A soft gasping sob escaped her. She wanted so badly to talk to Scanlon, to hear his voice. But even if he did contact her, she didn’t dare answer. Not on the chance that she might hurt Kittellan. She wondered if what Marsden said was true. Had he really included Kittellan in the elfin web? Or had he just said that to keep her in line? Gods! She wished she knew.
"Diesa?" Marsden’s call came again, closer, and Diesa cringed. "So it’s a game you want. Fine. I’ll play. But what will the reward be, Diesa?"
Diesa’s stomach churned and she fought back tears. Perhaps this was a stupid idea. Still, Scanlon had asked her to try to detain Marsden. Thoughts of the elf warmed her heart. Gods, she loved him! And it hurt, tore through her heart. She could never have him. Not now, not after ev
erything that had happened. She shook herself. Have him? What had ever made her think he wanted her for anything more than a slave, someone to serve him? Yet … her fingers drifted to her lips as she remembered his touch.
A snapping of branches jerked her thoughts back to the fore. Five or six hours, Scanlon had said. There was no way she could detain Marsden for five or six hours, unless there was a reason that she couldn’t go on right away, if she were injured somehow. She didn’t know if Marsden had the same capabilities to heal as Scanlon. If he did, her plan would all be for naught.
Her gaze settled on a young birch, growing upward, it’s branches only five or six inches apart. She crept toward it and shinnied up the tree to a spot where two branches shot upward in a V-shape. She slipped her arm between the two branches, positioning it so that the lower part of her arm was wedged firmly. She took a deep breath, steeling herself, then let herself drop.
The pain was incredible. She actually heard the bone snap before she fell to the ground, reeling.
::Diesa!:: Scanlon’s frantic cry was the last thing she heard before the peace of unconsciousness claimed her.
* * *
Opening her eyes to waves of nausea and agonizing pain she lay still at the foot of the tree. Marsden had not yet found her. Cradling her broken arm, she struggled to a sitting position, leaned back against the tree and waited. There was little use now of trying to hide. This way, it would look like the injury had occurred when she fell from the horse. She shuddered and closed her eyes against the pain.
::Diesa!:: Scanlon’s voice filtered into her consciousness.
She wished there was some way to let him know she heard him, that she at least acknowledged his voice. Experimentally, she released a small pulse of magic and heard him gasp. The pain it sent through her was mild compared to that of her arm.
::Diesa, you’re injured.:: It was statement filled with concern and alarm. ::We’re coming. Hold tight, Diesa. We are close.::
The thought of Scanlon and Kittellan riding to her rescue was more than she could bear. Tears flooded her eyes and spilled down her pale cheeks.
"Ah," Marsden’s voice preceded him. "There you are at last."
Diesa looked up at him, trembling. "The horse," she murmured. "It threw me. My arm is broken."
Marsden approached her, leading the stallion. He wore a small grin and disbelief edged his gaze. "Did he? How interesting. I don’t suppose you know anything of this?" He held up the seedpod.
Diesa sighed wearily. "No. Should I?" The pulse of pain he sent through her made her wince.
Marsden tied up the stallion and hunkered down beside her. He reached out and stroked the tears from her cheeks. "Are these tears of pain or heartache, Diesa? That little pulse of magic you sent Scanlon no doubt affected your little woman-boy too."
"Stop calling him that!" Diesa snapped, her anger flaring.
Marsden regarded her for a moment, then chuckled. "You are a determined woman," he said. He glanced at her arm then placed his hand against it.
Diesa shrank back from his touch with a whimper, then gasped as he began to heal the break. Her heart sank. Her gamble had not paid off. New tears gathered and fell from her lashes, dripping onto her tunic, leaving little dark spots that matched the holes in her heart.
"You didn’t know that I could heal, did you?" Marsden asked, with a satisfied smile. "I may not be quite as adept as Scanlon, but I do have my talents. Was this a ploy, Diesa? A way to stall for time? Is your hero even now riding to your rescue?"
She stared at him in astonishment. How could he know? How had he figured it out so quickly? She shuddered violently as the bone inside her arm fused together.
"There now," Marsden said. "Move it about."
With a resigned sigh, she did as he asked, grimacing. "It still hurts," she told him.
"Or course it still hurts. I healed the bone, not the torn and stretched muscle. I thought perhaps you had a reason for wanting the pain, Diesa. I wouldn’t want to deprive you of that."
She glared at him in fury, then threw herself at him with an enraged shriek. He caught her wrists easily as if he had been expecting it. She struggled against his hold, using her whole body to attack. She wanted to scratch his eyes out, to tear that smirk from his lips, to put an end to this humiliation and grief. She fired her own magic at him, hitting him time and time again with sharp stabs of pain. He seemed not to notice and wrestled her to the ground, coming out atop her. She stared up at him, her jaw clenched in rage, her breathing fast and shallow.
"I hate you!" she seethed. "I hate everything about you! Why don’t you just leave me alone? What more could you take from me? You killed everything—my future, Scanlon’s love, my baby! Why don’t you just kill me too?"
Marsden’s dark eyes went wide with surprise. "Baby?"
Diesa stopped her struggles for a moment. "Yes! Scanlon’s baby. You killed it! And he’ll kill you because of it! He hates you as much as I do!"
"Baby," Marsden repeated, then abruptly burst in laughter, releasing her.
She crawled aside, massaging her sore wrists and looked at him in confusion and alarm.
"Oh, this is too precious!" Marsden roared. "The elfin crown prince bedding a slave! And a dryad at that! Gods! If only his father knew! He would disown him!" He leaned back, shaking with his laughter. "Maybe we should change our course just a bit, Diesa. Maybe we should go on to the palace. I could present you to the King. Here, King Raydelle, here is the one whom your son has chosen as his mate. Gods! I can just see his face! It would be priceless!" He fell into another fit of roaring laughter.
The words stung, whipping through her like fire through dry brush. Fury engulfed her, pure wild fury. Her gaze swept over the ground and she seized the first thing she saw as a weapon. It was a large, heavy branch and she swung it toward Marsden with a scream of rage. It slammed against his head with a resounding crack, opening a large gash that sent blood spattering outward. He toppled to one side, momentarily stunned.
No longer thinking clearly, Diesa advanced on him, the branch held firmly between her hands. She swung it again with a ferocity she didn’t know she possessed. It caught him on the shoulder and he reacted with a burst of magic so powerful it sent her flying backward. He jolted the branch from her hands and she scrambled to retrieve it.
But Marsden was quicker and pinned her to the ground with magic. He staggered to his feet, his face dark, his eyes smoldering with anger. He reached up and touched at the gash on his head, healing it.
"For that, Diesa," he whispered coldly, "for that you will pay."
She screamed as white-hot pain caught her up in its embrace, crushing her, completely engulfing her. She drifted toward unconsciousness but Marsden ripped her back from its relief.
"No, Diesa," he said. "For this you’ll stay awake. There will be no respite in darkness. There will be no relief until you are begging for mercy!"
"Never!" Diesa managed. "I will never beg you for anything!"
"You will, Diesa," he told her. "Oh, you will."
"Scanlon will—"
"Scanlon will not do anything!" Marsden snapped, then grinned wickedly. "Not here. Not in Crayoven."
Diesa gasped, all hope leaving her. "Crayoven," she muttered.
"Yes. You crossed the border, Diesa. All on your own. Now, what will your dear Scanlon think of that?" He began to laugh, a quiet chuckle at first that bloomed into a roar of smug satisfaction.
Chapter 16
* * *
Diesa’s eyes fluttered closed, then were forced back open by Marsden’s magic. Her gaze shifted to him. He was stretched out before a small campfire, his wine flask in his hand. She had been enclosed in the elfin web for over three hours. For the last two, Marsden had said nothing to her. He had taken her further into Crayoven before finally settling down to make camp, and had been slowly, very slowly, increasing the pain the elfin web afforded. It was to the point where Diesa was simply beginning to wish for death. Still, she refused to beg him to sto
p, refused to utter even one word for his satisfaction. What did it matter anymore? Scanlon couldn’t fight him here. Marsden had the advantage, an advantage that could result in Scanlon’s death. Just let him kill me, Diesa thought wearily.
::No!:: Scanlon’s voice cut into her thoughts. ::Diesa! Whatever is happening, you must stop it! Kittellan—::
::Kittellan!:: Diesa could not help her retort and nearly crumpled from the resulting pain.
Marsden looked up at her sharply, his eyes narrowing.
::Diesa, please!:: Scanlon’s voice sounded helpless, lost. ::I know that Marsden has included Kittellan in the web. Do whatever you must to free yourself. He’s … he’s killing Kittellan.::
True sobs of despair broke from Diesa and she looked at Marsden frantically. "All right! I’m begging you. Please! Please let me go! I’ll do as you say. But please, release me from this pain."
Marsden smiled. "So you understand then? What it is doing to your little friend?"
"Yes," Diesa sobbed. "Please, Marsden, please, don’t hurt him anymore."
"One thing then, before I release you," Marsden said. "You will tell Scanlon to turn around and go home. Tell him that you no longer wish his company, that you have decided to stay with me."
"He … he won’t believe me!" Diesa cried, aghast.
"Make it convincing, Diesa. You’re quite good at play acting."
"But … the pain … if I …"
"For this, I will release you from the pain. Oh, and Diesa, I’ll be there as well. Listening." She felt his magic join hers and Marsden continued. ::Scan, Diesa has something to say to you.::
::Marsden!:: Scanlon retorted hotly.
::Go ahead, Diesa,:: Marsden said.
::M’lord,:: Diesa started hesitantly. When she experienced no pain she continued, forcing the words out in a rush. ::M’lord, I want you to go back. I want you to take Kittellan and go home. Please. I … I have made a choice. I am staying with Marsden.::
There was a very long pause before Scanlon answered. ::I see. And, of course, this is by your choice? It wouldn’t have anything to do with the elfin web or the fact that Kittellan is involved? Please, Marsden, don’t play me for a fool.::
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