The Celtic Witch and the Sorcerer [Celtic Series Book 2]

by Lyn Armstrong

  With blood stains on her gown and hands, Gavenia's wrenching sobs filled the chamber.

  Footsteps sounded near the doorway and she looked up to see the horror on her mother's face. Fighting the rising nausea, Gavenia pushed to herself to a standing position and then everything went blessedly black.

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  Chapter Thirteen

  A candle glowed in the wall scone above Tremayne's head. He squinted, his eye-sight becoming accustomed to the dark, empty room. Fully naked, he sat up from the small bed and pushed to his feet. Where was he? The last thing he remembered was his mother stabbing him in the back. Twisting, he looked over his shoulder. It did not feel as if he suffered from the dagger. But he did feel drained of power, his limbs weak. It has been a long time since he had sex and without the energy, his body was more human than sorcerer.

  He scanned the small chamber for his clothes, but there were none to be found. Opening the door, he looked down the hallway. Whoever lived in this house liked the shadows. He padded down the hallway to a staircase that led into a main chamber with a side kitchen.

  The main chamber was deserted and quiet. The only noise came from a cauldron bubbling over the fireplace and a goose roasting on the spit. The smell of cooked meat created juices in Tremayne's mouth. He was so hungry. He grabbed the turnspit and went to peel the goose off the metal pike when a voice called from behind, “Take yer hands off that!"

  He pivoted to see a woman in a simple gray kirtle come through the door with a stock of wood under one arm and a long, slender stick in another.

  "I beg yer pardon, mistress. I am in need of yer fare."

  Without looking him in the eye, the petit maiden with fiery red braids dumped the wood near his feet and the pulled a chair out from the small scarred table. “Please sit and I will feed you. That is why you are here after all."

  "Ah, perhaps I could clothe myself first,” Tremayne stated, curious to see a woman who did not at least blush at the sight of his nakedness.

  She stumbled backward and bumped into the kitchen wall. “I ... I did not know.” Turning, she fled the chamber.

  Tremayne looked down at his body. It was still hard and toned from days spent in the training field. Surely, he was not that ugly to scare a maiden so. He was used to women clawing at his body, not running from it.

  The door to the adjoining room opened and the maiden returned with new clothes. She walked up to him without looking into his eyes and handed him a rough worn tunic and breeches. “These are all I have. Yer other clothes were ruined with blood."

  He donned the clothes and sat. Silently, he watched the maiden gracefully move around the kitchen. She had a wholesome beauty, but was nothing compared to Gavenia. His chest ached with memories of her. Once he filled his stomach, he would leave to find his love. If his mother did anything to harm her...

  He clenched his fist on the table. First he had to discover where he was and how he got here. “Pray tell, mistress, where am I?"

  "Ye are on the edge of the dark forest, twenty leagues north of Dundee."

  "Dundee? How did I travel so far east?"

  The maiden lowered her eyes and turned her back to stir the stew in her cauldron. “Are you of the Duncan clan?” he asked.

  She did not answer.

  "Perhaps you can tell me if you saw my mother. She is..."

  "Aye.” The maiden placed a pewter bowl next to him on the table. “She paid me to take care of you."

  "I thank you for yer assistance, but I must hasten my departure. If you have a horse I can borrow until..."

  "Sorry.” She shook her head.

  "You have no steed?"

  "Nae, I have a horse, but you canna leave my lodgings."

  Tremayne chuckled. “I hardly think you'll be able to stop me."

  "She canna, but I can.” Lady Torella strolled through the front door. Her black fur-lined coat billowed around her from the chilly breeze outside.

  Tremayne stood up. “Mother, what did you do to Lady Gavenia?"

  "Ugh, do not call me ... Mother.” She undid her gloves and threw them on the table. “Be content that I did not let you die."

  "You were the one who stabbed me!"

  "And whose fault is that?” she accused. “Now sit down and eat yer broth. I have news.” She waved a dismissive hand at the maiden. “Alayne, leave us."

  Once the maiden departed, his mother continued, “First, let me tell you, you will not be leaving here. I have enchanted Alayne's quaint cottage with a spell that not only keeps you imprisoned, but keeps yer powers obsolete."

  Shock yielded quickly to fury. An angry retort remained lodged in his throat. “Why?"

  "That brings me to my news. You are going to be a papa. The lovely Lady Gavenia is with child. Yer child. Can you imagine the power of that baby? It would have good and evil magick in its blood. Why, the person who raised such a being would indeed be the most powerful in the world."

  His mother's words blurred into one another.

  Gavenia was with child?

  How could he be so careless? Never had a woman become pregnant with his seed. He had always used a spell to prevent such an occurrence. She probably thought he was still dead. He must get to her. Somehow.

  "Release me at once, Mother!” he interrupted her tirade.

  "And have you seek the Celtic witch? Nae, I think not.” She leaned toward him, her nose close to his. “That babe will be mine and I will not let anyone or anything stop me."

  Tremayne swiftly grabbed her throat. “If you harm milady or her babe, I will..."

  His mother chuckled and pushed him away, his strength was no more than a lad's.

  "Do not be droll, my son. You will remain here until the day of yer twenty-fifth birth. Then you will die, yer soul paying my debt to the Gods.” Grabbing her gloves, she rose and walked to the door.

  "You had no intention of divulging my father's name,” he accused.

  "Of course not. Why do you think I kept you alive at birth? If it were up to me, I would have thrown you out the tower window the moment you came into the world.” She opened the door and called over her shoulder. “Do not think about seducing Alayne into helping you. She is blind, so yer comely looks will not appeal to her."

  Tremayne shot to his feet. “Where are you going?"

  "To get married, of course."

  * * * *

  "Curse this house!” Tremayne tried to leave through every door and window he could find, but his attempts were thwarted with a black energy bolt that burned his hands like a blacksmith's forge.

  "When are you going to cease trying to escape?” Alayne nudged him aside and pulled closed the window shutters.

  "Until I escape,” he answered, and peered closely at her glazed eyes.

  "Aye, I am blind,” she said, her tone light. “I can discern shadows, but not specific features."

  He looked around the clean, spacious chamber. Its furnishings spoke of wealth, even if the thatched house was old and run down. “Do you live here alone?"

  "Nae.” Alayne walked into the open kitchen and sat at the table. “Come and eat."

  Tremayne followed her and sat opposite to the mysterious servant. “Are you not afraid to be left alone with a man?"

  "Aye, I am,” she said matter-of-fact. “But I am more afraid of yer mother."

  "What has she threatened you with if you do not keep me here?” Tremayne asked, picking up the bowl of stew, he sipped the cooled broth.

  Alayne lowered her eyes. “I would rather not say."

  Tremayne felt frustration knot in his stomach. He had to get to Gavenia. She needed him and in truth, he needed her. Never in his life had he needed anyone, but he knew he would not be able to survive without her sweet touch and gentle glances. His heart ached for her kiss, to hold her in his arms. If he could, he would tell her everything would be all right, as long as they were together, they would raise their babe to be a good witch, like its mother.

  He took a deep breath and
glanced at his long hands where his powers usually gathered. They were becoming colder and weaker as the day progressed. Without the lovely Celtic witch to give him sexual energy, his powers would diminish altogether. If he was to break free from his mother's curse and return to Gavenia, he would have to do something he did not want to do.

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  Chapter Fourteen

  The heavy bed curtains were shoved aside, allowing bright sunshine to sting Gavenia's eyelids. She covered the offending light with the back of her hand and groaned.

  "'Tis time to wake, milady,” her brother's wife said. Lady Vika was sweet and pretty with thin, snow-colored hair and large sapphire eyes. Her petit hand patted Gavenia on the leg, urging her to wake.

  "Nae, I wish to sleep.” Gavenia turned away from the windows and pulled the thick coverlet over her head.

  "Perchance I can entice you from yer cave for one of the cook's delectable delights."

  Gavenia raised her head, the smell of cinnamon wafted from behind her. “Which one?"

  "Fine cakes."

  Gavenia raised her languid limbs to sit against the backrest. On damp days like this, everything ached, included the scar on her shoulder from where the blade entered during the ritual. “I do not know what I would do without you, Vika."

  Giggling, her lovely sister laid the trencher of goodies on Gavenia's lap. “I dare say you would never get out of bed."

  Gavenia nodded and placed a loving hand on her growing abdomen. The sharp, crisp scent of mint floated up from her goblet.

  "Thank you for adding the herbs to my ale."

  "I do not know how you can stand the taste.” Vika sat on the bed, her nose scrunched distastefully.

  Thoughts of her sorcerer weighed heavily on her heart. Why did his mother take his body away? Gavenia sighed. The question bothered her for two seasons. Her shoulders hunched forward. She did not get to tell him she loved him.

  She mourned for two men—the sorcerer and her still missing father.

  She was the cause of their doom, and her body ached daily with debilitating guilt. But she must be strong. If not for her babe, then for her mother who had not left her chamber since their return.

  With so much despair around them, perhaps her mother would have something to live for again. At least that was what Gavenia hoped. Who else would raise her babe when she was dead? If she was to have a boy, then her mother would be the last Celtic witch.

  "Are you thinking of yer mother?” Vika asked.

  Once again, Gavenia was astonished how Callum's new wife could read her mind. “Aye."

  "Perhaps you should tell her yer secret.” Vika's round, blue eyes held compassion.

  "She does not need any more sorrow, besides, I only confided in you so you can make preparations before the birth."

  "Worry not, my sister. All will be ready for when the day comes.” Vika smiled and gracefully lifted herself from the bed.

  "How goes my brother? I have not seen much of him since the nuptials."

  "He is as well as can be expected. I do so miss him when he leaves.” Vika absently ran her hands up and down the bed post, her eyes wistful.

  "My brother is fueled by duty and vengeance. He will not rest until our father and Lady Torella is found,” Gavenia replied.

  Images of her own love sacrificing himself to his mother's blade haunted her dreams. Suddenly, her food did not taste appetizing. She pushed the trencher away. Her stomach turned with nausea while an emotional lump gathered in her throat.

  Unconscious tears ran down her cheeks. It was a regular occurrence. Sometimes her heart cried even though her soul was numb. Her head seemed too heavy and she fell onto the pillow to weep. Gavenia heard the door quietly close. Her sister had left. Silently, she thanked her. It was best that she was left to her emotions.

  If truth be told, she did not want to be alone. Not really. She yearned for her sorcerer. Her lover. But he would never come to her again. Not even in her dreams.

  Perhaps in the afterlife they would meet, and there, they would have a chance at love.

  * * * *

  Even in his weakened state; Tremayne could sense Gavenia's sorrow. Two frustrating seasons had come and gone while he remained trapped within Alayne's abode. He tried to seduce, coerce, manipulate, bribe and even threaten the maiden into giving him sexual energy, but she would not submit. His mother's wrath terrified her more than his own, or perhaps, she felt his heart was not in the seduction. Indeed it was not. He did not desire any woman but Gavenia. But to escape, he needed his powers to break the curse upon the house. He had to give and receive pleasure.

  Tremayne hoisted himself from the bed and changed into fresh clothes. The day of his twenty-fifth birth drew near along with his babe's delivery. He had to return to Gavenia and protect their child from his mother. Time was his greatest adversary.

  He found Alayne humming in the kitchen, her backside swaying to a popular minstrel's tune he had heard only at banquets given by Scottish nobles. Again he wondered which clan she hailed from.

  Alayne turned her head at the sound of his footsteps and smiled. “The hens were busy last eve. We have a large batch of eggs. I think I will..."

  Standing behind her, Tremayne touched her hand. “Let us sit. I wish to talk."

  She faced him, her gaze unfocused. “I will not make love to you."

  "What keeps you from my caress? Is it that you are afraid of a man's touch or that I will take yer maidenhead?"

  "Nae, I do not value my maidenhead as others would. I know a mon would never desire me enough to want to marry me,” she said with certainty.

  Tremayne went to argue, but she shook her head and touched his hand.

  "Please do not disagree. It is so. No mon wants a blind wife. I have come to terms with that.” She reached for his face and ran her hands along his cheeks. “Ye must be very handsome, and I do desire you. I just canna..."

  "I will protect you from my mother, this I promise."

  She pulled her hands away from his face and lowered her head. “Lady Torella has..."

  The door opened and they both turned toward the entrance.

  "Lady Torella has what?"

  Alayne leapt from her chair and it fell backwards with a loud thud. “Milady, I was..."

  "I will deal with you later.” Lady Torella glided into the kitchen. “Find me something to eat.” Gracefully, she sat opposite Tremayne and seductively smiled. “I have an insatiable appetite."

  "Have you seen Lady Gavenia?"

  "I keep a close eye on her progress."

  "How does she fare?” he asked, careful to keep his tone neutral.

  She studied him closely and then replied, “She fares well, although, a little distraught. The lass has foreseen her death after the babe's delivery.” His mother chuckled with amusement.

  His temper flared with Torella's cruelty. “Pray tell, what is the jest?"

  "It will not be the babe that kills her, but the black poison of Caerleon.” She laughed harder. “Do you not see? She has resisted men all her life because she thought to produce a babe would be the last thing she did on earth. And then you came along and did the very thing she feared.” His mother's face fell into seriousness. “Humorous, is it not? In her mind, yer love saved her, only to kill her.” She took a sip from the goblet Alayne handed her. “No wonder she hates you."

  "Enough!” Tremayne slammed his fist on the table.

  His mother's goblet crashed on the floor near Alayne and she hurriedly bent over to wipe the spilled ale. An uncomfortable silence stretched between the three of them.

  "Mother, I beg of you, do not harm Gavenia. You have given the Roberts enough pain. Please, leave them be."

  His mother's smile did not reach her eyes. “They ... killed ... me!"

  "And you have avenged yourself, now leave them be,” his voice rose. “I pledge to you, that I will go to my death willingly if you let Lady Gavenia live and keep our babe."

  "I see yer father's huma
n blood has infected yer dark ancestry. You offend me with yer terms."

  Tremayne shot up and leaned over the table. His voice deadly low, “Prepare yourself, Mother. This battle will not be surrendered."

  A slight flicker of his mother's eyelids was the only indication he affected her. She stood, and the table flew across the chamber. Tremayne managed to step back in time before it took him with it.

  Alayne screamed with surprise and backed into a corner.

  "Do not worry, Alayne, she needs us to be alive."

  Torella's red eyes narrowed. “I need you to be alive for the next two days. The lass is no longer of use to me."

  Tremayne swiftly stood in front of Alayne, shielding her. “Goodbye, Mother."

  She flinched. “Enjoy eternity in hell.” Her laughter echoed around the kitchen long after she disappeared.

  Tremayne sighed, tilted the kitchen table back on its legs and dragged it to where it belonged. He righted the chair at the table and sat. Resting his head in his hands, he growled with frustration.

  "Is there a cure for the black poison?” a tentative voice came from behind.

  "Aye, but the herbs are difficult to find and I would need to brew the potion,” he mumbled, his voice defeated.

  A soft hand lifted his head. Alayne's green eyes softened like the clear sea. “I will get the potion and take it to yer lady."

  "Even if you found the ingredients, you could not travel across the country in time."

  "We can try,” she offered.

  He kissed her on the cheek. “I hope you have a good sense of smell. You are going to need it to find these herbs."

  Alayne gave him a reassuring smile. “My nose has never let me down."

  * * * *

  Drops of boiling water splattered on Tremayne's hand when he lifted the cauldron pot from the fireplace. He set the pot on the table and then went to Alayne's cupboard. Searching the well-stocked contents, he rubbed the hard stubble on his chin. “If only I had access to my alchemy chamber."

  His fingers drummed on the cupboard door while he scanned the countless clay pots and fabric bags of herbs. “Aha!"

  Balancing three pots of dried herbs in his arms, he set them on the table.