Aislin of Arianrhod (Land of Alainnshire)

by S. L. Jesberger

  Crack? He’d made the ground yawn open beneath her feet today.

  She frowned in the dark.

  I can’t let him touch me again. I can’t let him get close to me. I have to find a way to get out of here before I do something I will regret.

  She was driving him insane.

  Every time Tristan thought of how Aislin had backed up against him with that warm bottom of hers, how she’d arched her back in invitation, he got hard again. He’d pretty much been hard for the last three hours. He debated taking care of his own needs, but he knew that would never satisfy him.

  She was heat and softness and scent, and he was going to explode if he couldn’t touch her the way he wanted to touch her.

  It had taken every ounce of self-control he possessed today not to sweep her up in his arms and carry her up the stairs to his bed. Her hair had smelled like the rarest flowers in his garden. Her body had thrown off a thousand degrees of heat, and he would have gladly let her burn him down to ashes.

  He’d been unable to take his eyes off her mouth. Her lips had a habit of parting in a most appealing way, and all he could think of was how badly he wanted to crush them with his own. He’d felt her trembling. Her face had been a dark storm of conflicting emotion. He’d been astonished to realize that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

  He’d frightened her yesterday, and he knew all of this must be very confusing to her. He’d have to be slow...gentle...patient to get her to open up to him. He could be all of those things where she was concerned.

  I don’t care if I have to take on the entire Sylvan council at the point of a sword. She is going to be mine.

  Chapter Eighteen

  JARIATH TOOK THE STAIRS UP to the sewing room two at a time, tense with excitement. Brock had found the hidden staircase. It had been six days since the invasion, and Aislin was still missing. This was the breakthrough they needed.

  He skidded into the room to find Brock standing along the back wall. The entire corner of the room had been pivoted open on an unseen axis to reveal a narrow passageway that led down into blackness.

  “What have you found?” Jariath growled.

  “I knew there had to be a hidden door somewhere in this room. I was determined to push on every stone in the walls of this room until I found something,” Brock said. “It was very well hidden—very clever. The door is actually part of the corner, and that’s why we couldn’t find it.”

  “Any sign of Aislin?”

  Brock frowned and shook his head. “Not one.”

  Jariath moved to the open staircase. There was a light breeze blowing up the steps. He could hear water flowing off in the distance. “Bring me ten of our best men, and several good lengths of rope. We’re going to find out where this goes.”

  Brock bowed low to Jariath and left.

  Maeve, with the limitless energy of a ten year old, was starting to get on everyone’s nerves. Even Gwen, usually a paragon of patience, was snapping at her as she bounced around the cave.

  “Mother, I’m bored. It’s so dark in here, I can’t even read. When is Aunt Aislin coming back?”

  “I don’t know. Please sit down. Your constant motion is annoying,” said an exasperated Gwen.

  “I want to go for a walk. I want to see the sun. I want to do something besides sit here and wait.”

  Devin could see that one of the women was surely going to hog tie Maeve if the girl didn’t get the chance to run off some of her energy. “Come on, Maeve. I’ll go for a walk with you.”

  Maeve had her shoes on in an instant, jumping up and down at the door of the cave.

  Devin walked along the edge of the river as Maeve ran ahead doing cartwheels and pirouettes. When the walkway started to narrow after a mile or so, they turned around. On the way back, a laughing Maeve pulled Devin along by the hand, making a game of exploring the winding paths among the boulders along the walkway.

  They were just about to emerge back onto the walkway a short distance from the cave, when Devin stopped short. He heard shouting over the roar of the river...and it was clearly a male voice.

  He grabbed Maeve by the back of her shirt and pulled her back. He put his finger to his lips for silence, and she nodded her head, looking up at him curiously.

  Devin climbed part way up the wall of boulders in front of him, carefully placing his feet in the nooks of the rock. He got to the top, laid his body flat, and peered hesitantly out around the edge. The hair on the back of his neck prickled with fear.

  Jariath, Brock and several of his men were tying one of the dragon boats to the ledge in front of the cave.

  Dear Zeus, now what do I do! He considered going to Gwen and Emara’s rescue, but he hadn’t thought to take a weapon with him. There were at least ten large, well-armed men in that boat. He looked at the wide-eyed girl gazing up at him from the ground. She would never survive on her own if he left her here to go to their defense. He certainly didn’t want to drag her along to be captured with them. Maeve would be a very potent weapon for Jariath to use against Aislin. It was a difficult choice, but staying put seemed to be their only option. He didn’t think Jariath would hurt the women. They’d be of more value to him alive and unharmed.

  He grimaced as Jariath kicked open the door to the cave with one large booted foot. Keep them safe! Devin thought as he slid down the boulder, grabbed Maeve, and ran off on the sandy path that led deeper into the rocks.

  Gwen and Emara both screamed in fright as the door burst open, slamming against the rock wall of the cave with the sound of a small explosion.

  “Where is she!” the strange man bellowed as he entered. Though she’d never seen him, Gwen knew it was Jariath.

  The cave was instantly full of him: six and a half feet of hard muscle and brute force. Jariath strode toward Gwen, his great mass blocking out the soft glow of the candles. He radiated violence, death, and furious anger. She ran to Emara and wrapped her arms protectively around her.

  Never one to hold her tongue, Emara snapped, “Where is who, you great oaf?”

  Jariath drew back his massive arm and backhanded Emara with all of his strength. Torn from Gwen’s arms, she fell in a heap of silk on the floor.

  “Jariath, please don’t...!” Gwen pleaded as she knelt beside the dazed woman.

  “Where is she?” Jariath asked again, with an alarming amount of patience. Gwen instinctively knew patience from this man meant pain. She drew in a breath to calm herself.

  “If you mean Aislin, she’s gone. She left us here a couple of days ago.”

  Jariath reached forward, grabbed a fistful of Gwen’s blond hair, and pulled her up roughly to face him.

  “Where has she gone?” he demanded, his eyes vicious. “Who is with her?”

  “She’s gone to Wyndham to fetch my brother’s army,” Emara said defiantly, getting to her feet. “When he gets here, you’ll be very sorry you dared to invade Arianrhod.”

  Jariath gave a roar of rage, and shoved the older woman backward. Emara stumbled and fell, hitting her head on the rocks of the pool behind them. She didn’t move.

  Gwen cried out and twisted in his mighty fist. She grabbed his wrist, hoping to gain some slack in the grip that he had on her hair. She was horrified to discover that her hand didn’t even close halfway around it. The man was a beast, and he was vibrating with fury. She shivered as he turned his attention back to her.

  “Who went with her?”

  “Roderic, Devin and my daughter Maeve,” Gwen squeaked. Devin and Maeve hadn’t returned from their walk, and she hoped she could protect them both with this lie.

  Jariath’s gaze held Gwen’s. She couldn’t look away. There was madness in his blue eyes. Now she understood why Aislin always spoke of him with a hint of fear in her voice.

  Aislin had said they shouldn’t underest
imate him. She had always insisted there was cunning beneath the brutality. Gwen could see it now as his eyes darted over her face. He was quietly analyzing the situation, examining all of the possibilities presented to him by the discovery of the cave and the capture of two of Aislin’s family members. She saw the exact moment he realized that he’d been given a gift, one that could be used with devastating effect to lure Aislin back to him. Gwen choked on a sob.

  “Stanis will never attack me while I hold his sister,” Jariath finally said. “And Aislin thinks she can outsmart me, but I have the upper hand now. She’s out there somewhere, and when she hears that I have both of you, she’ll come crawling back to me on her knees. She has a very peculiar sense of responsibility. It’s easy to use her sense of duty against her. She’d willingly sacrifice herself for all of you.”

  He turned to Brock and threw Gwen into his arms with such force that they both stumbled. “Tie them both. Put them in the dungeon when we get back. And put the word out that I have them. There are enough spies around. Aislin will find out soon enough.” Jariath smiled, but it was no smile at all. “Pull everyone back from the borders of Arianrhod to within a two mile radius of the village, and place them in defensive positions. Stanis and his army don’t frighten me. Let them come! I’ll kill them all.”

  Gwen, her arms tied tightly behind her back, furtively glanced around as they were loaded into the boat. There was no sign of Maeve or Devin. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  Devin and Maeve ran silently among the paths in the rock for most of the day, but they kept going in circles. Finally, they emerged into daylight from a fissure on the side of the rock mountain. Devin recognized Stoney End. He could see the trees of Blackthorne off in the distance.

  He felt sure Aislin and Roderic would have followed the river, but he didn’t see any sign of it. He decided they would try to make it to Wyndham, though he knew their chances were slim. There was no other choice.

  Devin looked down at the little girl standing beside him. Maeve was the love of Aislin’s life. He knew he couldn’t let anything happen to her, but their situation was bleak. It was hot and dry at Stoney End; they had no food or water. The sooner they got into the cool shade of Blackthorne Forest, the better.

  “Who were those men?” Maeve asked, slipping her hand into Devin’s.

  “Very bad men. They want to hurt your Aunt Aislin.”

  “Why would anyone want to hurt Aunt Aislin? Do you think they’ll hurt my mother and grandmother?”

  “I don’t think so, little one. He needs them.” Devin frowned. “We have to get to Wyndham, to your brother. Do you think you can walk that far?”

  “Bryce will help us,” she said. “He won’t let anyone hurt Aunt Aislin. I can walk that far if I have to. She would do it for me.”

  Yes, she would, you sweet child, thought Devin as he scanned the desolate landscape of Stoney End. He didn’t see any of Morrigan’s soldiers, but they would still have to be very careful.

  Chapter Nineteen

  TRISTAN HURRIEDLY THREW ON HIS best council robes, ran a comb through his glossy black hair, and tried not to panic. Somehow, the council had found out Roderic was missing. That he was no longer in his cell, coupled with the fact that one of the horses was missing from the stable, was damning evidence. He hoped no one would be too angry once he offered an explanation.

  Every Sylvan voice, few as they were, was valued in matters of government. Issues of great importance were usually run through an elected council of sixteen elders, plus Tristan, and voted on after some discussion. Tristan, as chieftain, was free to make decisions on his own in the interest of safety and security, but the fact that he’d allowed two humans to live and one of them to leave the village may have been too much. Colven had gently tried to talk him out of holding Aislin here, but he’d been adamant. He hoped she wouldn’t have to pay the price for his stubbornness.

  He hastily pushed through the doors of the council room to find everyone already seated. All eyes, most of them hostile and angry, turned to him as he took his seat at the round council table.

  “What is the meaning of this outrage, Tristan?” Voss demanded. “Is it true that you gave the human man a horse and let him go?”

  Colven slammed the gavel down so hard the shock traveled through the wooden lectern. “We will have order here. No one will speak out of turn!”

  “It’s no secret that you cover for him, Colven. He could murder us all in our sleep and you would defend him!” yelled Duff across the table.

  Hot anger flared in Tristan. “That will be enough out of you, Duff. I’m still your chieftain!”

  “That remains to be seen depending on what happens here today!” roared Neman.

  “Silence!” Colven bellowed and slammed the gavel down again. An embarrassed hush filled the room. “We will all have our time to speak. We have an issue before the council, and we will not pass judgment on anyone until we have heard all sides. Tristan, you may as well start by giving everyone an explanation.”

  Tristan swallowed hard and stared at his hands, unsure of how to begin. He had to be completely honest with them.

  “The day before last, I took the human woman, Princess Aislin, to Colven’s chambers and we questioned her.”

  “Why was this woman not brought before council to be questioned?” interrupted Duff, sitting forward in his chair. Colven shot him a warning look.

  “It was my decision that she not be questioned before council. It is my right as chieftain to be the one who questions prisoners in the interest of the defense of Oakenbourne.”

  “This is a premise you hide behind,” snapped Fogol. “You use it when it suits you. In this case, council should have been allowed to hear what the woman had to say!”

  “If you would all shut up, you may indeed find out what the woman had to say,” Colven said wearily.

  “Six days ago, Arianrhod, our neighbor to the north, was invaded by Jariath of Morrigan. Princess Aislin and her courier, Roderic, somehow managed to escape, but she told us some of her other family members were hiding in a cave somewhere on the southern border of the kingdom. She and her courier were attempting to get to Wyndham, in order to secure their army in the fight against Jariath. King Stanis of Wyndham is Aislin’s uncle, and her nephew, Bryce, is the rightful heir to the throne of Arianrhod.” Tristan glanced up briefly in an attempt to gauge the mood of the council. Most of them still looked quite angry. He looked away and continued.

  “Jariath is a brutal thug, totally devoid of conscience. For awhile, he had guards posted on the southern border of Arianrhod, within yards of Blackthorne Forest. His army is well equipped and well trained in the art of war. His men are as vicious as he is. It’s amazing the princess and her courier were ever able to cross into Blackthorne unseen by his army.”

  “This does not concern us,” said Loren slowly. “We have never cared about the quarrels of humans.”

  “Well, in this case, we may have to care. Arianrhod was easy for Jariath to take. The sickness several years ago killed most of Arianrhod’s people, and they have no effective defense. One of the things Jariath is after is land. He won’t stop at the southern border of that kingdom if he thinks he can assume control of Blackthorne.” All eyes were on Tristan now, looks of concern replacing anger.

  “It is possible the elven races have passed into legend among most humans. Princess Aislin didn’t know about us—she believed elves to be fantasy creatures existing only in stories told by human parents to their children. We don’t know, however, whether Jariath knows about the Sylvan. If he does—if he has heard the history of our people coming out of Elinbourne—then he knows our secret. If he knows our secret, and with his army at our northern border, we’re in as much danger as we were all those years ago.”

  A low hum filled the room as the elders began to talk among themselves.

 
“So your solution was simply to let the human man go? Why didn’t you send the woman on with him?” asked Keegan.

  Duff snorted in disgust. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  Tristan glared at Duff. He wasn’t sure why Duff was taking such a contrary stance against him. They had been childhood friends, growing up together, sharing many adventures. To see him behave this way was perplexing.

  “Tristan and I decided the princess should be kept here as a hostage, to ensure that the rather substantial army of Wyndham didn’t stop here on their way to Arianrhod to exact revenge for their capture. We’re holding her as an assurance, and we may gain much by treating her with compassion,” Colven said.

  “What are you saying?” Loren was incredulous. “We have never let a human see this village and live! It’s always been our practice to keep ourselves well hidden.”

  “Sadly, those days may be coming to an end. We may not survive with Jariath at our border permanently, and we cannot afford to anger Arianrhod by mistreating their regent. For all that she is a human, she is still their sovereign until her nephew takes the throne. King Stanis has the only army in the land that can defeat Jariath. We must ally ourselves with them if we can. It’s a nasty set of circumstances, but the lesser of two evils seemed to be allowing the man to continue on for help, yet holding her here as an assurance against Wyndham,” Colven replied.

  “Ally with humans! I have never heard such treason!” shouted Ulwin.

  “We’re open to any other suggestions, if you have them,” Tristan challenged. No one spoke up. “Things have changed, and hard decisions need to be made. I for one would like to ensure that the Sylvan do not pass into legend and become bedtime stories for human children.”