Joining Zelda at the tub, Mattie placed her arm gently across Zelda’s thin shoulders. “They’ll bring her back, Zelda…I know they will,” she whispered reassuringly.
“Is not that.” Zelda shook her head, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Zelda is ashamed…was Zelda’s own daughter that betrayed the One to Elwin.”
“Dulcie? Or Ambria?” Mattie stared at Zelda in shock. She couldn’t imagine the cowering Dulcie having the courage to commit such a feat.
“Dulcie.” Zelda said her daughter’s name as though the word left a bad taste in her mouth. Her lips pressing into a firm line of frustration, she attacked the awaiting dirty dishes as though they were her enemy. “Dulcie always strong-willed. Always admire Elwin’s status and possessions. ‘Tis no surprise to Zelda that daughter turned to be such a way.”
Taking a clean linen cloth from its hook, Mattie held a hand out to Zelda to receive a wet cup. Arching her feathery brows in surprise, Zelda shrugged her shoulders in defeat as she passed the cup to Mattie.
“Zelda…are you sure? How could Dulcie kidnap Taylor? Taylor’s twice her size.” Drying the cup, Mattie carefully placed it on the shelf above her head.
Handing Mattie a newly washed saucer, her amethyst eyes troubled in her paling face, Zelda nodded decisively as she attacked another dish. “Zelda use reflecting pool to see what happened to Her…Zelda have to know. The waters show Dulcie make her voice sound like Zelda to trick Her to open door. Then other sprites…from Elwin’s clan….rush Her and steal Her from room.”
The tears reappearing in her eyes, Zelda hung the dishtowel on the side of the barrel, her hands trembling as she dried them on her apron. “Zelda see them bind Her…tie her arms and legs until Her bleeds from the ropes. They gag Her mouth…then drag Her out door to wagon waiting outside.”
Turning to slowly sit at the table, Zelda held her head in her hands. “Zelda pray the Laird will find way to forgive Zelda for spawning such evil of a child.”
Stacking the last of the dishes upon the shelf, Mattie sat on the bench beside Zelda. Wrapping her arm around the mother sprite’s trembling shoulders, she laid her dark head against Zelda’s silvery white. “It’s not your fault, Zelda….people do what they’re going to do, no matter what they may have been taught.”
A tremulous smile playing at the corners of her mouth, Zelda kindly patted Mattie’s hand on her shoulder. “Zelda just hope Laird and Magnus can find Her…before it is too late.”
~*~
Her bandaged side throbbing with unbearable pain, Taylor moaned as she struggled to move upon the bed. A cup was soon pressed to her lips, a bitter fluid flowing down her throat. Gentle hands bathing her face…the throbbing pain seeming to fade, drawing a shallow ragged breath, she drifted thankfully back into a drug-induced sleep.
Gazing at her sleeping form, Segrid cocked his gray head to one side with interest. Odd that the lass be so enchanted but not look as all the others did. No slanted feathery eyebrows, no lovely pointed ears, her oval face was quite pretty, but Segrid actually preferred the sharper features of the sprite maidens that he regularly took to his bed. And her skin…such an unusual shade of ivory…how much prettier if she had but a hint of the greening of the sprites.
Clucking his tongue softly as he shook his head, Segrid placed another handful of ground healing crystals into the basin beside the bed. “Elwin always was a fool…yer Jasper did us all quite a favor,” he noted to Taylor’s sleep deafened ears.
A pity that he’d had to whisk her away unnoticed to his den deep within the mountains. But he couldn’t allow such a powerful creature be wed to anyone else.
Poor Quinlan…Segrid shook his head sadly as he realized the heartbreak her disappearance would cause. The lad had always been just and fair, but after all he was an outsider. If the Enchantress didn’t consider him her husband, then all was fair by the law of the land. Perhaps the lad’s friend Magnus could be of some help…convince the Furies to finally release the boy. Ah well…’twas no concern of his…he must concentrate on the strengthening of his own lineage.
Smoothing her hair away from her face, Segrid snapped his fingers impatiently at a shy girl standing in the doorway. “Wystra, bathe the One again…give her the fluid if she awakens.”
Bowing her head obediently the girl carefully kept her eyes lowered to the ground, waiting for her Master to move aside before she rushed to do his bidding. Pausing as he ambled his round body past her, Segrid lifted her face with a gnarled bony finger. Studying her intently; he nodded decisively as he released her face. “When ye’ve finished with the One…come ta’ m’bed for I need relief.” Absently-mindedly rubbing at his crotch, Segrid slowly waddled out of the room.
Obediently bobbing her head once again, the shy serving girl waited until Segrid had closed the door before she shivered in distaste. This would be the third time the Segrid had serviced himself upon her. It was all she could do to bear the act in silence. Glancing over at Taylor’s sleeping face, the young girl’s face brightened with hope. Once this One was well enough to fill the master’s needs, maybe he’d cease calling her to his bed to endure his body’s desires.
The girl gently folded back the covers, taking care to disturb Taylor as little as possible. She positioned the Segrid’s great healing crystals upon the four corner posts of the bed. Wystra carefully filled the brazier with glowing coals, then painstakingly balanced a small bowl of liquid in the center of the heated orbs. As the hot coals warmed the metal bowl, the liquid slowly evaporated, releasing a tangy citrus scent into the humid air.
In the violet light of the healing crystals shining from the four posts of the bed, the delicate sprite maiden gently bathed Taylor’s sleeping body with warm fragrant water. The maiden marveled at the whiteness of Taylor’s skin, all the other sprites having a slightly greenish cast to their own. “It’s as though the Maker forgot to give her color,” she thought quietly to herself. Comparing her own slender greenish arm to Taylor’s long pale one, Wystra ran her long fingers lightly across Taylor’s skin; staring with wonder at the pale blue veins forming a pathway down the inside of Taylor’s arm..
After she’d finished bathing Taylor, she left her naked body exposed to the crystal’s healing light. Retrieving a brush from her worktable, she carefully began working the snarls out of Taylor’s long silken hair. Glancing at Taylor’s face to ensure she was still asleep, Wystra hesitantly raised a handful of the blonde hair to her face, gently rubbing it lightly against one cheek, she smiled down at Taylor’s sleeping face. “So soft,” she commented to herself, comparing the sleek tresses to her own coarse dark hair. “No wonder the Segrid is so taken with the One. The spawn will be truly beautiful.”
Wystra finished brushing Taylor’s hair, then gently placed the covers back over her body as the light from the crystals slowly began fading. Gathering them up and returning them to their velvet-lined box, she closed the lid carefully and placed them back upon the shelf. She refilled the infusion bowl balanced amid the coals of the brazier, then glancing around the room Wystra checked twice to ensure nothing was amiss.
Deciding she’d done everything she possibly could, Wystra sighed in resignation as she quietly left the room, reluctantly making her way to her master’s sleeping chamber.
~*~
His eyes squinting in concentration, focusing upon the wagon tracks traveling through the snow, Quinlan finally slid from his horse as a passing cloud covered the light of the moon. No sounds from the forest met his ears, only the lonely crunching of his footsteps in the snow. Even his mount was abnormally silent, usually given to snorting in the cold night air. It was as though with the kidnapping of Taylor, all the land seemed to be holding its breath…uncomfortably waiting for the outcome of Quinlan’s lonely quest.
Rubbing his eyes, Quinlan stared hard at a shimmering boulder up ahead. Realizing it was Magnus resuming his form, Quinlan rushed to discover what Magnus had found. “Well?” he snorted, his eyes darkening with p
ain at the look upon Magnus’ face.
“Up ahead,” Magnus motioned quietly, nodding his head toward the path just beyond the trees.
Drawing the ancient claymore from the sheath at his side, Quinlan pushed past Magnus to run up the path.
Latching onto Quinlan’s arm as he pushed his way past, Magnus’ muscles bulged with the strain of pulling Quinlan back to his side. “Quinlan…wait!” Magnus barked. “’Tis only Elwin beyond the bend.”
His nostrils flaring with the rage coursing through his veins, Quinlan’s face darkened as the blood roared through his ears. “’Tis only Elwin,” he repeated with a sneer. “Good! Then I’ll set to the business of killing him!”
“It seems as though Taylor’s friend already beat ye to it,” Magnus noted as they rounded the curve of the path. Elwin’s stiff body lay bedraggled in the snow, his dead eyes staring up into the sky. The angle of his head in conjunction with the position of his neck clearly revealing how the obnoxious sprite had finally met his end.
“And died in the trying…bless the poor beast’s soul.” Quinlan knelt in the snow beside the great leopard’s still body, the white fur stained red from his own blood. Quinlan’s breath suddenly caught in his throat, as he looked beside Jasper’s body.
All the color quickly draining from his face, his body shaking with unrelenting spasms, he spread his trembling fingers across the snow pressing them gently into the imprint of where Taylor’s body had lain. Her woolen cloak lay crumpled at the edge of the imprint, fully soaked on one side with her blood. “What has happened here,” Quinlan whispered, his voice filled with agony as he stared up into Magnus’ eyes.
Taking the blood-soaked cloak from Quinlan’s hands, Magnus stared at it, his jaw muscles rippling as he clenched his teeth. Tossing the soiled cloak to the edge of the woods, he started back down the path. Turning back to Quinlan, head bowed still kneeling in the snow, Magnus shouted to make himself heard over the rising wind. “Quinlan…come now! We must get to the reflecting pool…quickly before the night passes. Ye found yer love once with the gift of the Furies…’tis time ye used it again.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Holding the torch high above his head, Quinlan led the way down the steep winding staircase. Magnus, Mattie, then Zelda followed in single file, each trailing their hands along the damp narrow walls of the passage. They descended into the deepest bowels of the castle, each of them silent, tormented by the fear of what might meet their eyes. If the reflecting pool was able to locate Taylor, it would not only reveal her location…but what sort of fate she had met.
The stairs finally ended opening out into a circular room with a low-domed ceiling. Magnus and Quinlan both had to slightly duck their heads to keep from rubbing them against the damp mossy stones. The center of the room was filled completely with a low circular wall retaining water as black as ink. Mattie eyed the surrounding room with misgiving, a cold sweat breaking out across her forehead.
A tall stone pedestal rose from the center of the pool, supporting a pure white candle the size of a small barrel. His face grim with resolution, Quinlan touched the torch to its wick. As the flame sputtered the dampness from the top of the candle, Quinlan doused the torch in the waters of the blackened pool. Staring down into his reflection, a scowl on his face, he murmured as he stirred the waters with the flameless torch. “Stolen from me….Taken away….Show me m’love….where she is this day.”
Magnus, Mattie and Zelda stood against the wall, each holding their breath as they silently waited. They all stared into the dark waters of the pool, the light of the candle rippling across the surface.
Patiently walking around the circle, constantly staring into the depths, Quinlan set his jaw firmly, his eyes narrowing with concentration. Raising his voice, he circled the pool faster, disturbing the waters even further with the stick. “Stolen from me…Taken away…Show me m’love…where she is this day!” Shouting at the waters now, the sweat pouring from his face, Quinlan gratefully dropped to his knees as an image gradually appeared atop the waters.
Shimmering among the ripples floated Taylor’s pale face, her eyelashes resting against her colorless cheeks. Her chest was completely bandaged but it slowly rose and fell with the steady breathing of the deepest of sleeps.
“Thank the Furies…she lives,” Quinlan exhaled, pressing his forehead against the low stone wall.
Leaning forward, Magnus, Mattie and Zelda watched the image closely as they knelt beside Quinlan on the floor. “Quinlan…look!” Magnus choked, shaking Quinlan by the shoulder.
Raising his head, Quinlan stared into the pool, his face growing purple with rage. “Segrid!” he spat, as he watched the old sprite smiling down into Taylor’s sleeping face.
Covering her mouth with her hand, Mattie gasped in shock as she watched the revolting sprite press his lips to Taylor’s motionless mouth.
Jumping up from the floor, Quinlan pulled the torch from the waters, immediately dissipating the image. Re-lighting the wet torch from the eerie candle in the center of the pool, he turned to rush up the stairs. Pausing at the doorway to keep from leaving the others stranded in the blackened pit, Quinlan pushed the torch into Mattie’s trembling hands.
Vaulting up the stairs, he’d nearly finished belting on all of his knives as the others finally emerged from the tunnel. “Quinlan…slow down…we must do this wisely. Ye saw for yourself, the lass hasna’ been harmed.”
“All I saw was that vile bastard pressing his stinking mouth to the precious lips of m’wife!” Grabbing his cloak, Quinlan rushed past Magnus, jerking back as Magnus grabbed him by both shoulders.
“Listen t’me, man! I will take us there. But ye must get a hold of your emotions.” His green eyes snapping as he barked into the younger man’s face, Magnus cheeks grew as red as his beard. “Segrid is crafty…we must take care…or ye’ll never see Taylor again!”
His jaw tightening with hatred, Quinlan stared into Magnus’ enraged face, his lip curling into a sneer of disdain. “Take us…auld man…but make it quick…I canna stand here forever.”
Narrowing his eyes, Magnus tightened his grip on Quinlan’s shoulders as the side of his mouth curled to one side. Mattie and Zelda watched with anguish as Magnus and Quinlan gradually faded from view.
~*~
Quinlan and Magnus materialized in the center of a dark crystal cavern. Evenly spaced torches embedded in the walls, reflected against the damp darkness all around. Eyes roaming over the glistening walls and overhead at the bats hanging from the rock formations dripping from the ceiling, Quinlan grimaced, barely suppressing a slight shiver as they started down the winding corridor. “How can Segrid stand this place?” he whispered, hopping to sidestep a scurrying rat.
“His family’s lived here for as long as they’ve existed…it’s his home,” Magnus reasoned calmly.
Finally reaching the end of the tunnel, they paused just outside a huge wooden door. “I’ll kill him if he’s hurt her…in any way,” Quinlan muttered, clenching his fists until his knuckles were white.
Placing his hand to Quinlan’s shoulder, Magnus shook him, “Here now lad! Ye know Segrid is the most civilized of all the sprites. We need ta’ attempt ta’ reason with him before ye go threatening to murder him within his own home.”
Inhaling deeply, his nostrils flaring, Quinlan clenched his jaw. Finally nodding in agreement with Magnus’ words, he forced himself to open his fists. “I’ll try…but I canna guarantee anything…I’ve waited too long for m’wife to return.”
“I know lad,” Magnus replied quietly, gently clapping Quinlan on the back. “I’d feel the same if it were m’little Mattie trapped within that bent bastard’s den.”
Grabbing the great brass knob, Magnus brought it down to the plate with a loud bang, waiting impatiently for the door to open. As the door slowly creaked on its hinges, a narrow face soon appeared in the opening, eyes widening with fear at the recognition of the visitors awaiting entry.
“A moment please,” begged
the voice behind the door, quickly closing and bolting it shut.
Magnus and Quinlan looked at each other, faces lined in disbelief. Before they had the opportunity to beat on the door again, they heard the sound of the bolt slowly sliding back out of the lock.
Opening the door widely, greeting them with a smile, Segrid bowed uncomfortably at the waist. Toddling his broad body aside for the two men to enter the room, he politely inclined his head toward the sitting chambers, his hand gracefully held aloft. “Segrid is honored at your visit. Not many come ta’ Segrid’s home.”
Eyes narrowing as he studied the expressionless face of the ancient sprite calmly standing before him, Quinlan came directly to the point, his chin rising to a defiant angle. “I’ve come for m’wife. I know she is here…Segrid…is she well?”
Smiling softly as he ushered them deeper into the room, Segrid motioned for them to have a seat by the fire. Relaxing his amply round body into his chair, Segrid leaned back, avidly studying Quinlan before he answered. “This man has that sickness of love,” Segrid thought silently to himself. “The One must be truly powerful…to inflict such a fatal disease.”
His pointed yellow teeth shining through his open-mouthed smile, Segrid nodded slowly in agreement with Quinlan’s words. “The One is here…and does live. But is still healing from Elwin’s blade.”
Rising awkwardly to cross to a low wooden table against the wall, Segrid rested his hand against a tall stoppered decanter, eyeing Quinlan and Magnus with a slight smile. “Would ye have a drink with me?” he asked...his feathery brows raised in an expression of the politest inquiry.
Fidgeting impatiently in his seat, Quinlan shook his head quickly. He was in no mood for this game Segrid was playing. He was toying with them as though they were fools! “I’d see m’wife. If ye dinna mind…I need ta’ see that she’s well.”
Twice Upon a Soul Page 32
