Provocation, he thought triumphantly! He whipped around in a tight circle, gritting his teeth as their arrows found marks. Sucking in a deep breath, he ground his back teeth together to ignite the gases and belched a swath of flame at his tormentors. They screamed. They ran, for their horses had bucked many of them from their saddles and were racing frantically in the other direction.
He climbed until he was well out of range and plucked the painful arrows from his hide, dropping them. For a few moments, he soared on the currents of air at that altitude, gauging the damage and finally decided that he was good for another pass.
He swung around, sucking air into his lungs to force the gases from his glands and then he swooped low as he expelled the fire. Satisfied that they seemed far more interested in retreating to the castle than following—for the moment at least—he flapped his great wings to carry him upward again, circling to watch them on the ground below and make certain they didn’t regroup and resume their pursuit.
He brooded over Gerald’s treachery as he studied the man children below him. There was no end to the treachery of man, he thought. One could never trust them. They were always plotting something.
Deciding Gerald needed a lesson himself, he allowed his nose to lead him to the castle. He was glad he did. He had not believed the elf was lying but it never hurt to check. Gerald did, indeed have a protection spell over the castle. Now how had he managed that? He had no magic of his own, not according to anything he had heard.
Artimus had to be the source. So, had he woven it to add that protection to the female? And, if so, why was it that he had failed to mention the spell when he had sent them upon their errand? Who was being duped? What game was Artimus really playing, he wondered?
Setting his questions aside for the moment, he tested the strength of the magic and discovered a weakness. He could break the barrier at the highest points.
Artimus had not counted upon a dragon, he thought with satisfaction. Climbing along the tower until he could see the humans still milling about in the bailey below him, he sucked in a deep breath and spewed fire and death upon Belmor Castle. “Stay out of my way, humans!” he bellowed in his beasty growl. “The female is mine. I will be back if you interfere again!”
Chapter Four
Gwyneth was in such a state of shock after the encounter with the strange men near the edge of the forest that her mind was reeling with the questions circling round and round in her head. She had been unnerved when she saw the two men blocking their path, for she had thought, at first, that they must be thieves. She might not have left the castle before, but there were plenty who did and many carrying tales of robbers that waylaid travelers and relieved them of everything they had of value.
She didn’t know why, but she hadn’t actually believed that the two were anything but men even though Caelin had called them dragon and unicorn. They looked like two ordinary men.
Well, she amended, there was nothing ordinary about them—not really. Dragon looked as if he was nigh seven feet tall and about half that across the shoulders. His face had been shadowy, but she had not seen that he had the ugly, distorted features that were common in giant men. Of course, he wasn’t actually a giant, just uncommonly tall, but still about the tallest man that she had ever seen. She had still perceived him as a man, nothing more than a very large man. She had wondered if, perhaps, he was of the warrior race that lived across the sea, for his hair was very light and she had heard that they were a fair race and uncommonly big.
The man who traveled with him—unicorn—was also very tall, though not nearly as broad shouldered. And he was still a very large man, for all that he seemed small next to dragon, perhaps a half a head shorter, near six feet in height, and the sort of build that gave the entirely false impression that he was slender only because of his height. His shoulders did not lack much of being as wide as dragon’s, though, so he was certainly not thin regardless of that perception. His hair was strange—all dark in the back, with two very wide streaks at the front that were pale enough to appear white, whether they were or not.
The three, Caelin and the strangers, had not seemed friendly, but she had begun to realize fairly quickly that there was some sort of stand-off, that none of the three actually wanted to test themselves against the others. She’d relaxed a little when she sensed that, enough to study the strangers closely, enough to begin to notice that they pleased her senses. She wasn’t certain how. She’d barely been aware of it at first, but she had definitely found their appearance to her liking. She didn’t think she would’ve paid so much attention as to notice so many details otherwise.
In any case, it was hard to dismiss that she’d found them attractive when she’d been so focused on studying them that she’d hardly followed the conversation. It had seemed a very cryptic sort of discussion anyway and she thought she would’ve had trouble following it if she had given it her entire attention.
There was no chance of that once dragon had begun to strip. From the moment he’d removed his shirt and the light from the stars and the sliver of a moon had illuminated his bare torso, she had been completely mesmerized. He was not merely bulky as she had thought. There were large, bulging muscles along his arms, chest, even his back, that rippled with his movements in a way that made her breathless. Her mind had instantly perceived that as sheer beauty. There was no dismissing or questioning whether she liked what she saw. She’d couldn’t take her eyes off of him as he revealed more and more of himself.
His man-root sent her into a flutter that was a mixture of shock, fascination, and uneasiness. He was a very large man. It should not have come as a great surprise that he would have a man-root to match, and yet it did. Somehow, she had thought even while she waited breathlessly to see it, that it would be normal in size, even though the man wasn’t.
And then the body that had so fascinated her had simply vanished and in its place was a great golden dragon.
It wasn’t until that shock had worn off a little that Gwyneth’s mind had begun to pick apart the conversation between the three. She wasn’t certain she would’ve been able to turn any part of her mind to unraveling it except that her thoughts had been led that way when she tried to figure out how Caelin had known that dragon really was a dragon. He had called the other unicorn. She had a hard time accepting that, but he had said the big man was a dragon and he certainly was.
Then she recalled that they had begun to discuss a prize they were all seeking from Belmor Castle—her. They had said her. They had seemed to be talking about her.
That made no sense to her at all. Caelin had not taken her! She had freed him and begged him to take her with him and he had been very nasty about it! He had made it very clear that he didn’t actually want to take her, regardless of the bargain she’d tried to wrangle from him.
Had she been completely duped, she wondered? Had he used her fear against her, convinced her by his very reluctance—seeming reluctance—to not only free him and show him the way to escape, but to lead him out without presenting him with even a token struggle?
If he had seemed eager, would she have begun to entertain doubts, she wondered? Would it have made her uneasy?
She thought, mayhap, it would have, but was he that clever?
Or had he not wanted to take her because he had not thought she was the one he had come for and then decided that she was? And if that was the case, what had she done to convince him that she was the one he sought?
She could not be the prize they were talking about, she decided. Not that she’d actually believed for a moment that she could be, but she was still confused. If she wasn’t the prize, why had they behaved as if she was? What made them believe she was? And how was she to convince them that she wasn’t?
Or would it be better if she did not even try? Wouldn’t they abandon her if she convinced them? And what had she to worry about if she wasn’t? Nothing, she thought. When she was presented to this wizard they had spoken of, Artimus, he would know at once that she w
as not the one he had sent for and would have no use for her, would he?
Or would that matter to the wizard even if he knew?
Surely it would if he had sent for someone specific.
Caelin paused when they reached the mountain pass, but he made no attempt to dismount. Instead, he walked Darkness slowly, studying the terrain around them as if he was searching for something. Apparently he was, for after a little bit, he guided Darkness from the cart path that they had been following. The horse began to climb. That wasn’t especially noticeable just at first, although Gwyneth did notice she had to lean forward further over the horse’s neck, but it began to be more and more noticeable as the horse began to struggle with the steep incline, bounding upward so that Gwyneth began to think it would unseat her.
Finally, to her relief, Darkness reached a place where the ground leveled out. Caelin slid off the horse’s back. When he removed his support, Gwyneth found herself slipping, as well. She sucked in a sharp breath, trying to catch herself, but she’d passed any point of regaining her balance. She managed, briefly, to get her legs under her as her foot struck the ground, but it was very briefly. Every muscle on her body, it seemed to her, had turned to jelly. The knee of the leg that caught her buckled before she could firmly plant her leg and she sprawled on the rocky ground, scraping her palms and knees.
Caelin flicked a glance at her and focused on grooming his horse. Gathering a handful of grasses, he rubbed the horse down while she grunted and heaved and finally managed to get to her feet and stand up.
She studied her stinging palms and looked around a little hopefully for some sign of water. She didn’t see any, but when Caelin finally finished his task and walked off, the horse followed him obediently, and Gwyneth, limping and trying to ignore her stinging knees and hands, also followed. He led the horse to a pool of water.
Pleasure leapt in her. Gwyneth scrambled around the man and horse and picked her way to the edge of the pool, plunging her hands into the soothing coolness.
“It would not be amiss to bathe while you are at it,” Caelin said coolly. “I believe that I will see if I can remove some of the stench of King Gerald’s hospitality from myself.”
Gwyneth glanced at him. At least he hadn’t merely pointed out that she stank! She stared at the water a little uneasily, though. It had felt wonderfully cool on her burning hands, but it was cool. It was less pleasant to think of submerging herself entirely in the cold water. Beyond that, she was doubtful that simply dipping in it, or even soaking, would do much to remove the filth from her skin and clothing, and what she was to wear afterwards if she washed her clothing? And what good would it do to bathe if she didn’t?
On the other hand, she was revolted by the combined smells of Bard and Thom that seemed to cling to her. She wasn’t certain any longer if they still did, though, or if she was only imagining it because she had smelled it before.
Caelin gave her a sour look when she didn’t immediately begin to strip. Shaking his head, he waded into the pool until he was waist deep and ducked beneath the surface. Gwyneth’s heart surged against her chest wall in anxiety when he didn’t surface again immediately. Anxious, she watched the ripples moving along the top of the water and finally relaxed when his head bobbed above the water many yards from where he’d disappeared.
A sound behind her drew her attention. She whirled with a jolt and discovered the sound she had heard was the approach of the dragon. He lit heavily enough she felt the ground vibrate beneath her. Unicorn slid from his back. As soon as he’d landed, dragon shifted and became a man once more.
He strode toward the pool where she sat, but his gaze was on Caelin. “We agreed that you would stop at the pass!” he growled.
“You agreed,” Caelin said. “In any case, this is a part of the pass.”
“It is not the beginning of the pass—which is where I searched for you and where I expected you to be!”
“We had need of water to make camp,” Caelin said pointedly.
Drake transferred his attention to the water. “I may as well bathe myself,” he said. “The man-children stuck me with their arrows and I am bloodied from battle.”
He turned to look at unicorn. “You have my clothes?”
Unicorn approached him and handed him the bundle. Dragon dropped the pile in Gwyneth’s lap. “You may as well make yourself useful and wash these, wench—not the boots!”
Gwyneth stared at the bundle and glanced up at Dragon as he strode by her, heading for the pool. Her gaze was caught by the swing of his cock. When he dove into the pool, effectively breaking her focus, she turned away and discovered unicorn was undressing. He dropped his own clothes in her lap. “There is soap in my pack over there, wench. Mind you rinse them well. The clothes are scratchy and damned uncomfortable if they aren’t rinsed properly.”
Caelin emerged from the water. “If there is soap, then I have need of it. The man scent isn’t something that is easy to rid oneself of.” He peeled his wet pants off and dropped them with the rest. “Mind the tears, wench! These barely cover me as it is.”
“I worked in the kitchens,” Gwyneth said when Caelin had retrieved the soap from unicorn’s pack and headed back to the pool. “I’m not a laundress.”
He crouched beside her. Despite every effort to ignore his nakedness, Gwyneth found her gaze drawn by the sway of his man-root as he crouched. “You do not strike me as a half-wit. You need only rub the soap into the clothes, scrub them together a bit, and then rinse. It cannot be that difficult.”
He straightened, diving into the pool.
It was a lot of laundry to clean before she slept, she thought in dismay, and it was already well into the night—not long before dawn unless she was mistaken. She was weary enough that she felt like crying only to look at the work. Sniffing back the urge, she gathered up the clothes in a bundle and moved to the edge of the pool. The sooner done, she told herself, the sooner she might lie down and rest.
She doubted she would find much rest. She had not brought the makings of a pallet. She hadn’t dared.
“You should wash your own while you are about it,” Caelin said pointedly when he had finished bathing and brought her the soap. “It would not hurt to make use of the soap to scrub the scent of that pig off of you either.”
Gwyneth stared at him for a moment and finally returned her attention to the laundry. She had enough to do without adding her own, she thought a little resentfully, but she was growing very weary of him harping on the fact that the guard had rutted her.
By the time dragon and unicorn finally got out and trooped past her, she had decided that she could barely tolerate the smell any longer herself. Removing her clothes, she piled them with theirs, waded into the water with the soap and scrubbed herself thoroughly.
Her teeth were chattering long before she’d finished, for the water was as cold as she’d thought it was, but she had the far more pleasant scent of unicorn’s soap in her nostrils each time she breathed. It was colder outside the pool than in it, she discovered when she tried to stand up. She was going to have to get out and dry off at some point, she thought in dismay, but she was certainly in no rush to face the discomfort and decided to finish the laundry from the pool.
The flicker of firelight caught her eye as she was finishing up and a surge of delight went through her. They’d built a fire! She could stand in front of the fire and dry herself. Slogging from the water when she’d tossed the last piece onto the pile, shivering all over, she’d already hurried toward the fire when it occurred to her that the clothes also needed to be dried and that they weren’t likely to dry if left in a mound in the edge of the pool. Her back and shoulders, arms and hands were already burning from wrestling with the water heavy clothing, but she gathered them up and carried the dripping mass with her.
Seeing that the men had gathered around the fire to warm themselves dry, she glanced around for someplace to spread the clothes and began spreading them over whatever rock or tree limb she could reach until
she’d spread everything. Then she rushed, shivering, teeth chattering, to squat in front of the fire, holding her shaking hands toward the flames.
Dragon handed her a piece of her food. Her food! She discovered when she glanced around that the men had helped themselves to the bread, cheese, and wine she’d brought. She stared down at the fist sized pieces Dragon had handed to her and then looked at him. “This is my food.”
“Yes. You should eat.”
Gwyneth bit her lip. “But … it is mine! I brought it so I would have something to eat on the way to the village.”
Dragon shrugged. “Well, you will not be going to the village so you will not need it.”
She blinked at him. “Where am I going?”
“We are taking you to the priests of the Temple of Mannet Rae at Sherbrooke.”
Gwyneth’s belly tightened. “Why there?”
“Artimus said we were to take you there,” unicorn supplied, getting to his feet.
She watched him as he moved to his own pack and took a folded blanket from it. He brought it back and handed it to her. Pleasure wafted through her. She smiled at him tentatively as he returned to his place at the fire. “Thank you!”
He nodded. “You are welcome. I thought it might not be as distracting to everyone if you would cover up your woman’s place. I don’t know about the others, but I find it difficult to follow the conversation with it gaping at me.”
“I find it distracting, as well,” Dragon agreed. “I enjoy looking at it. There is no doubt about that. It is a very pretty female place, but distracting. Definitely.”
Gwyneth felt her jaw slide to half-mast. She glanced down instinctively and saw that he was right. She’d squatted, but she hadn’t wanted to sit on the dirt with her bottom bare and she’d only succeeded in framing her sex with her legs. Reddening, she unfolded the blanket and draped it around herself.
A Lamentation of Swans Page 5
