Ruth A. Casie

by The Guardian's Witch

  “Thank you for your company, Bryce.”

  “I’m glad we had this little talk.” He took her hand and lingered over her knuckles before he kissed them—again.

  He left her in the garden. She watched him climb the terrace steps and enter the library.

  *

  “Bryce,” said Alex, as his friend came through the terrace doors.

  “You must be thirsty.” An amused expression lit Bryce’s face. “Here, let me help you.” Before Alex could respond, Bryce had one of the two tankards out of his hand. Bryce was already poised to drink it.

  “You said you wanted to sample any new batches to ensure it was the quality you expected.”

  Bryce stopped the tankard almost at his lips. “Most definitely, I wouldn’t want you to spoil Wesley’s reputation for fine ale.”

  He motioned to Bryce to sit with him. “I was meeting with my brewer, when I saw you had arrived. I wasn’t expecting you. I’m glad Lisbeth kept you entertained.”

  “I thought we would take a ride to the river.” Bryce sat down in the armchair near the library table. “I’m here to tell you my men found tracks. They think they’re from the raiders. Would you like to join me and get a firsthand account?”

  “Yes, I would. Cheers.” He raised his tankard. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Lisbeth picking berries on the other side of the garden fence. It was good to see her and Bryce reconciling.

  “Have you told her yet?” Bryce took another pull on his ale.

  Alex kept his eyes focused out the terrace door. “No.” This is not where he wanted this conversation to go. “I had the impression you were at odds with Lisbeth. You appear to have solved your differences.” If he didn’t know his friend so well, he would have missed Bryce’s momentary hesitation.

  “We spoke of Richard.”

  Alex’s face lit in a distant smile. “Aye, he was a great companion. His death was a surprise to everyone. I had never seen Wesley in such anguish.” He let out a deep sigh. “It took many tankards to ease his pain.”

  “To Richard!” Bryce raised his tankard.

  “To Richard!” Alex gave a similar salute.

  Bryce drank the ale thirstily. The foam left a smear of caramel liquid on his upper lip. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. The ale finished to the last drop, he plunked the tankard onto the table. “I’ve always enjoyed Wesley’s ales. I’ve never tasted a bad batch. This isn’t quite the same.” Bryce took the tankard out of Alex’s hand and began to drink. He gave Alex a questioning look. “I may need a third to make a final decision.”

  Alex stood, empty-handed and sported a wide grin. “Hold up. You’ll drain me dry.”

  “I didn’t think Wesley’s ale could get any better but you’ve proved me wrong.” He took another gulp. “You may have a new business—supplying ale to the court.”

  “It is good, isn’t it? I have been working with my brewer on the recipe. Well, if you’re ready?”

  Bryce hesitated for a moment. He looked at the tankard and quickly drained it. “Yes, I’m ready. We can stop by your barracks and gather some of your men.”

  Alex and Bryce went directly to the barracks. “Lord Alex.” The bower rose from his bench when the men walked in. His shirt was covered with down from the gray goose feathers he used to make the fletching.

  “Where are Robby and the men?” asked Alex.

  “They haven’t returned from patrol, m’lord.”

  “Tell Robby to bring the men and meet me at the river.”

  “Aye, m’lord.”

  Alex nodded his gratitude and left with Bryce for the stables.

  They rode from the castle down toward the river where Bryce’s men waited.

  “We found two sets of tracks. Some are by the river and others leading toward the bridge. We’ll split up. My men are up ahead. I’ll take them to the bridge. You can follow the tracks by the river,” Bryce said as they slowed their horses, his troop coming into view.

  “You and your men can cover more ground. You take the river. I’ll investigate the bridge and wait for Robby and the others,” said Alex.

  “We can meet up later,” said Bryce. At the forest edge, Bryce and his men continued on while Alex rushed toward the cliff.

  *

  The berries Lisbeth had gathered tumbled forgotten from her hands. A tremor touched her lips while the vision slammed behind her eyes. She didn’t doubt the vision’s truth. Sometimes a bright light, warm and comforting, accompanied the vision; other times the wind howled, cold and disturbing. Today, panic clearly filled the air.

  She spun around trying to pinpoint a direction and abruptly stopped. Facing south, she licked her lips nervously and tasted the sweetness of fresh water. A rushing sound burst in her ears. The river. Her head snapped east toward the river path and she ran. As she careened down the narrow trail, the outstretched branches tugged at her dress, pulled off her shawl and clawed at her face and arms. She took no notice. The cadence of her footfalls beat out a mantra, not him, not him, not him. She rushed on faster, mumbling enchanted words under her breath.

  She exploded out of the forest and stood on the riverbank as the bridge gave way, sending the horse and rider plunging into the angry current. Swiftly the horse surfaced and headed for shore with an empty saddle. She stood on the bank, still mumbling as she scanned the river until she glimpsed a clear red aura shining deep in its middle. Her relief was momentary when the blackness began to creep in. There wasn’t much time.

  Quickly she pulled off her heavy dress and, wearing only her chemise, dove into the river. Save him was her only thought. Down she plunged kicking hard against the current. The usually clear water, now choked with mud, churned with debris. She screamed the words in her head and made her demands. In response, the current slowed and as the mud began to settle, a lifeless hand beckoned to her from below.

  Desperate to reach him, she kicked hard toward the deep river bottom. She was a strong swimmer and reached him quickly. She pulled on his arm but he didn’t budge. Something pinned him in place. She dropped his hand and pulled herself around him. The murky water made it difficult for her to see what held him. She resorted to running her hand over every inch of his body to locate what kept him captive. Her lungs burned. She needed to surface but she pressed on.

  Frantically her hands felt their way along his leg until she found his foot caught in the debris. She shoved the timber away. The exertion cost her precious time and air. With one hand she grabbed his shirt collar and kicked off the bottom. With her free arm she reached for the surface. She didn’t take her eyes off him.

  The higher she got, the more the water cleared. The wild current fought to get free of her restraint. She didn’t think. She focused on getting Alex out of the water.

  The hand holding Alex’s collar cramped, sending spasms of pain up her arm. She did not let go. The last of her breath spent, her lungs screamed for fresh air. She forced herself not to breathe. She was certain she would break free of the water soon. Alex’s weight pulled at her. She wasn’t making any progress. If she didn’t do something quickly they would be back on the bottom. She glanced up. The light was brighter. She was close now. She held her legs together and undulated like a graceful giant fish. Once again her free arm reached hard and pulled the water out of her way. One last hard kick and she exploded into the air as if propelled from underneath. Alex floated face down next to her.

  She gulped for air, exhausted. There was no time to waste. She held on to him as the current pulled them toward the rapids and the steep falls beyond. She turned him onto his back and swam for shore. She dragged the large knight onto the bank where his warhorse stood snorting and stomping. Worn out but thankful, she collapsed next to Alex gasping for air. Her hand was on his chest.

  He didn’t stir. She fixed her eyes on his chest but she didn’t see any movement. She scanned his face. A small trickle of water escaped his mouth.

  She rolled him on his side and pounded on his back. Nothing. Sh
e pounded again. More water trickled out of his mouth. She reached inside his wet shirt. No heartbeat.

  She kept the building panic at bay. Think. Calmness overcame her. She rolled him onto his back and knelt above him. She placed her mouth over his and gave him her breath. She’d given her breath before, when the blacksmith’s wife gave birth and the baby didn’t breathe. That day she had tried everything but nothing worked. She wanted to move the baby’s chest, just one breath. In desperation she breathed for the child. It worked then. It had to work now.

  She felt the tingle at her lips and a dizzying current raced through her. She closed her eyes and gave him another breath. Her hand pressed hard against this chest. She searched for a heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest, anything to indicate he lived.

  He shuddered with a shallow breath. Reassured, she felt a faint but steady beat and sank back on her heels. She observed the deadly gray pallor on his face retreat. His arms twitched as they came to life. His face contorted in a spasm as he choked to clear his lungs. He pushed himself up coughing out the last of the river sludge and sucked in large quantities of air.

  Relief surged through her. She rose, retrieved her dress lying in a pool of sunlight, and quickly slipped it on. She calmed the restless warhorse with her gentle touch and whispered words, When she ventured a glance at the knight, she found herself staring into his compelling gray eyes. His gaze was riveted on her face. A fresh spasm of coughing took him, and she turned to leave.

  “Wait.” He struggled to get the word out.

  She stopped and took a deep breath.

  He shook his head. His eyelids slid closed and he fell onto his back. He fell asleep before his head touched the ground.

  She stood next to him, laid the horse’s reins in one hand, and brought his other onto his chest. Satisfied, she silently vanished into the forest before he woke and admonished her for being outside the castle—without an escort. A scurry of leaves, seemingly caught in the warm autumn breeze, covered any signs she had been there.

  *

  “Lord Alex!” Robby called from the other side of the clearing and rushed to his lord’s side.

  Alex looked up into the worried eyes of his captain. He wiped his hand on his shirt and he was shocked to discover he was wet. It wasn’t a dream. “Aye, I appear to have gone for an unexpected swim.”

  “Prime pulled you out.”

  Alex gave the man a questioning look.

  “You hold his reins. He must have pulled you to shore.”

  Alex looked at the reins in his other hand. His mouth dropped open. Impossible. He could still feel her hands on his chest. He could still taste her lips.

  “He seems none the worse for his swim,” said Robby examining Prime. He patted the horse soundly on his sleek neck and whirled around to Alex. “I’ve sent Stephen ahead to tell the others we found you. Lord Bryce told us you were at the bridge. When we got to the cliff, the bridge was gone and Prime was standing here. We feared the worst. I should have known better than to worry. The men will be as relieved as I am. Everyone has been scouring the river for you.” Robby gave Alex a hand up and continued. “I don’t think your swim was spontaneous. The men found signs the bridge’s beams were cut.” He gave Alex a hard look. “Those Scots raiders must be at the bottom of this.”

  “Robby, let’s not come to any rash conclusions. The only way down from there—” Alex motioned to the damaged bridge, “—is back the way you came. Did you see anyone?”

  “Only Lord Bryce and his men.”

  He mounted Prime, and glanced at the pool of sunlight. That was where she had stood. He licked his lips and tasted sweet berries. His chest tightened at the thought of her.

  In a shimmer of sunlight he saw her clothed only in a wet chemise, every line and curve of her body evident. He shifted uncomfortably, his arousal complete. His eyes swept up her body and rested on the stone charm around her neck. Finally, he looked at her face. He took in a quick breath and gazed into deep green eyes filled with passion.

  He shook his head and the image burst and faded. He wheeled Prime through the small clearing past the sunny pool. His eyes fell on a lone berry glistening ripe and ready to burst. “Faith,” he whispered to no one.

  “Lord Alex,” called Robby.

  Coming out of his reverie, Alex looked at his man. “Robby, show me what the men found.”

  “You’re lucky Prime got you to shore.” They left the river’s edge and followed the trail up the cliff. “The rapids are not far and the falls right after. Someone truly watched over you today.” Robby rode on ahead.

  “Yes, she certainly did.” He pushed the thought out of his mind and concentrated on what was solid and real as he headed up the path. If his men were correct, and there was no reason to believe otherwise, someone had tampered with the bridge, his bridge. He would think about these haunting visions later.

  He arrived at the bridge to see his men along with Bryce and his patrol. “Lord Alex!” someone called out. His men quickly gathered to see him for themselves.

  “We feared the worse when we saw the state of things and Prime riderless,” said one of Alex’s soldiers. “We thought you were lost to us. I’m glad to welcome you back.”

  “I told you he would be here,” said Stephen. “I was with Robby when we found him on the shore, wet but no worse.”

  “I’d never believe anyone could survive that fall,” said one of the Glen Kirk soldiers. There was a hint of suspicion in his voice.

  “But our Lord Alex isn’t just ‘anybody,’” Stephen offered, his excitement brimming over.

  Alex’s attention was drawn to the forest. Whatever it was had moved on. Alex led Prime down the line. The men cheered. He acknowledged each man heartily. Finally, he raised his hand asking for quiet.

  “I’ve taken an unexpected swim.” He ran his hand down his shirt, sluicing off water.

  The men looked and nodded at each other. A roll of light laughter passed through the troop.

  Alex chuckled along with them. “Well, let’s put the swim behind us and concentrate on making the repairs. Robby, take the men back to the castle and bring what’s needed. I want to look around. When you’re done, post some men here to make certain there’s no further mischief.”

  “Men, mount up.” Robby took the men back to the castle.

  “Alex, you gave me some scare. I’m glad to see you’re well.” Bryce and his men remained.

  “I’m fine Bryce, only a bit wet.”

  “My men and I had worked our way up the river when we came upon your men. I was concerned that the current might have swept you downstream. We were near the falls looking for your…for you, when we got word you were napping on the river bank.”

  The concern in Bryce’s eyes registered with Alex.

  “Well, you can manage here. I’ll take my patrol down river and follow our original plan. I’ll meet you back at Glen Kirk and give you a report of what we find,” said Bryce.

  “Many thanks.”

  Bryce and his men rode off.

  Alone, Alex climbed over the edge of the cliff to get a better look. His hand brushed over the exposed beam edge. The wood had indeed been cut halfway through. There was no way the bridge could tolerate the weight of him and his horse. As soon as he and Prime ventured to cross, the planking broke through.

  “Someone’s really out to do you in.”

  Chapter Nine

  Alex looked up at the rim of the cliff. Jamie was on his haunches looking down at him. A broad grin lit up his face.

  “So, it was you sneaking about in the woods? You must be careful, Jamie. Even my men are willing to blame the Scots.” Alex stretched up his arm for assistance.

  Jamie grabbed Alex’s hand and helped him back onto firm ground. “You worry like my wife. And I wasn’t sneaking about.”

  Alex brushed the dirt and decayed leaves from his clothes. “When anything happens it seems your people are the first to be suspected. I would think you would be more careful.”

&
nbsp; Jamie bowed slightly from his waist. “Spoken like a true brother.” He pounded Alex on his back. The grin on his face faded and was replaced with serious concern. “You’re a very lucky man, Lord Alex Stelton. There’s no way you or your horse should have survived. You both should have crashed into the rocks.”

  “I know. I wonder how Prime and I survived the fall?”

  Jamie ran his hand through his hair, indecision written all over his face. “It’s not easy to explain.”

  “Try.” He didn’t want to pressure the man, but he needed answers.

  “Where to start,” Jamie muttered to himself.

  “At the beginning. I’ll protect her. Surely you know that. But I can only protect her if I know everything.” Alex waited for Jamie to soak up his words. Alex knew Jamie was smart and would see he had no choice and admired him all the more for his determination to protect her.

  “She has no idea the depth of her abilities,” Jamie finally admitted. He took a deep breath as if a burden had been lifted off his chest. “Somehow she protected you. I’m not certain how. Her abilities are…unique.”

  Alex watched Jamie relax. He was right. “She was at the river. I heard her command to the water.” He looked at Jamie. “She believes in the old ways.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “No. I respect the old ways and those who believe in them. Lisbeth uses charms and spells,” offered Alex. “I seem to have been the beneficiary of both.”

  “Hubert—”

  “One of the protectors,” Alex sneered.

  “Yes, the first one actually, called her a witch. When those around her protested, he called them her coven. It wasn’t long after that encounter that she moved into the hunting lodge.”

  “So she hid to protect others. No wonder she didn’t want a protector or to return to Glen Kirk. She is more honorable than Hubert.”

  “In his defense, she did play a nasty trick on him. Laura and I were there when Hubert and the others arrived. Hubert had been obnoxious all day. He and his party swept into Glen Kirk as if he were the landlord and not a protector. By the end of the day Lisbeth had had enough. When the mist gathered in the Great Hall she snapped her fingers and sent it scattering.”