The Christian & Brina Collection

by Judith Post

  Aelio studied each of the men. "All four of you are willing to join this battle?"

  They nodded.

  She hugged herself, looking frightened and unsure. "And what do you expect in return if you save my life?"

  Brom shook his head. "I'm married to a mistress of dragons. The three of them are wedded to witches. We all value our wives and our lives. We have no intentions of cheating."

  She stared. "You'd never stray?"

  "Why would we?" Thurstan demanded. "We already have the best."

  Aelio looked to Christian.

  "Make this a great and glorious serfdom where your people are treated fairly," he responded.

  "That's all?"

  Christian and Brom locked gazes. "That's harder than you'd guess," Christian said.

  Brom nodded. "He speaks the truth. Life for me was much simpler when I was his second in command."

  "You're odd men. Each of you. I've never met men so handsome, so strong. You could do as you please, take what you want."

  Jarman shrugged. "We're gifted, and we know it, with special powers and special women. What more do we need?"

  Aelio placed a hand over her heart and looked to the heavens. "By almighty Zeus, I swear here and now that if I survive this battle, I will strive to be a fair and wise ruler or strike me dead with lightning."

  Jarman laughed. "You take things to heart, don't you? We all foul up, dear lady. But you used the word strive. That's all anyone can hope to achieve."

  Christian gave a curt nod. "Now, to business. You've been here long enough that your enemies might not be far behind. It's time to get ready to greet them."

  * * *

  Jarman volunteered to stay behind. "The sun will rise soon. I'll linger in the castle with our newfound friend while you marshal our forces. Stop by the forest and let Aldith know what we're doing. She'll bring Forwin with her when the sun sets."

  Forwin was the dark, brooding, young vamp that Aldith doted on.

  Christian nodded. Aldith was beautiful and deadly. At first, she'd mistrusted all humans. Then, she met his mother, Lady Enid. They'd become fast friends, and Aldith now proved a ready ally.

  Thurstan and Christian turned their horses toward home. Brom climbed onto Lothar's back to fly to his serfdom.

  "We'll return as soon as we can," Christian promised Aelio. "Jarman will watch over you until then."

  The trip always seemed longer when Christian fought worry with each hoof beat. Thurstan looked anxious, too. They stopped at Jarman's forest, as they'd promised, and woke Aldith to deliver the news. She gave a sleepy nod and returned to her slumber.

  When they finally arrived back at the castle, Christian's mother and Brina awaited them, along with every witch from the villages that surrounded the fortress. Christian blinked at the assembly in his Great Hall. "Have you already heard?"

  His mother sat in a high-backed chair near the fireplace, as usual. She could hear all that proceeded from there. She'd spread her Tarot on a low table she'd pulled close and obviously read the cards, because she was gathering the deck to return it to its pouch.

  Cook bustled across the room toward him. "Ravens landed in the courtyard. An owl flew into my kitchen—in the middle of the afternoon. We know enough to take your trip seriously. When don't you find trouble, m'lord?"

  Every witch in the room turned to hear his answer.

  Christian scowled. "I'm no longer a youth, looking for adventure. You know why we rode to Gilbert's fortress."

  "Dear husband…" Brina came to lean against his side. His lovely wife had color in her cheeks, a sparkle in her blue eyes. Whatever his mother and Cook had done, it looked like it was working. "…Trouble finds you."

  He shook his head, protesting. "That isn't fair. It just so happens, though, we did discover a problem at the neighboring kingdom."

  Sabina stepped forward, looking serious. "And what was that?"

  Christian explained about Aelio and her enemies.

  Linata listened carefully and nodded at his idea of creating a bubble. Before magic was everyday in their serfdom, the witch had gray, brittle hair and deep wrinkles, but the more she practiced her craft, the younger she looked until now, a dark curtain of hair fell past her shoulders and her hourglass figure proved alluring. "I can create a protective shield, large enough to seal her entire castle. The…" She hesitated. "What should we call our enemies, m'lord?"

  "Poisonous, snake women?" Thurstan suggested.

  She nodded. "The snake women, no matter their size, won't be able to enter."

  Christian beamed at her. "Thank you, Linata."

  A happy flush stained her cheeks.

  Sabina stepped forward. "I can use my winds to blow the women away or keep them at a distance."

  Christian shook his head. "No, you have a young son. I won't put you in danger. And Aelio can summon her own winds. You remain here and stay safe."

  "If you're in danger, we're in danger," Sabina said. "No other lord will allow us to practice our magic except Brom."

  A young witch, whom Christian knew was in training, stepped forward. "We all saw the signs and came to travel with you. Where you go, we go."

  "No." Christian's subjects sometimes pushed too hard to protect him. He didn't intend to budge on this. "Too many people will make things more difficult."

  Sabina bit her bottom lip, annoyed, but didn't argue. Christian's tone was final.

  Cook's hands went to her hips. "What's your plan to defeat them?"

  Thurstan stared.

  "What?" Cook demanded. For a plump, jolly woman, she could be intimidating when she wanted to be.

  "I've wandered from place to place," Thurstan told her, "and I've never met people who feel so free to speak their minds."

  "That makes us stronger," Christian said. "We work as a team."

  "And what will our team do to rid the world of these snake women?" Cook persisted.

  Christian chuckled. Cook was hard to deter. His knuckles had been smacked many a time with her wooden spoon. "Brom and Ignisia are riding their dragons to Aelio's fortress. Linata will seal the castle, so that we can remain inside until the snake women attack."

  "Even the dragons?" Brina asked. His wife looked worried, and he regretted that, but it couldn't be helped.

  Christian nodded. "I don't think poison would affect them, but why take a chance? Gilbert used his basement as a dungeon instead of kitchens. The dragons can stay there until we battle. Once we start fighting, their fire will protect them."

  Cook sniffed. "Gilbert would prefer a dungeon to kitchens, that awful man."

  Christian couldn't argue. The dead lord was a horrid human being, but they wouldn't have any of these problems if they hadn't killed him.

  Brina frowned. "Who else are you taking?"

  "Jarman and two vampires from his pack. Poison's useless against them since they're already dead. Thurstan's coming with me, along with a witch or two."

  "Who?" Cook bristled. "You didn't ask me."

  "Brina needs you now."

  "I've already made up potions. There's more than enough to keep her stomach settled," Cook said, "and I'm training an assistant. She'll be able to make more, if we need it."

  "Who?" Christian looked around the Great Hall, trying to see if there was a witch he didn't recognize.

  Wymare, a plain, sixteen-year-old, who could shoot sparks from her fingertips, stepped forward and curtsied. "Me, m'lord."

  He smiled. "Good, you're young enough to learn many magicks before you develop your full powers."

  She winced. The compliment obviously didn't make her happy. Christian frowned. "I'm sorry. Did I misspeak?"

  Cook glanced at the girl fondly. "The silly chit thinks no man will have her, so she might as well learn as many magicks as possible."

  This seemed to be some kind of female thing that Christian had little understanding for. He looked to Brina for support.

  "Why do you think that?" Brina asked.

  Wymare sighed, reaching f
or a lock of her limp, dirty-blond hair. Letting it drop, she rubbed a hand over her spotty complexion. "Look at me. I'm plain. My tongue is incapable of witty conversation. What do I have to recommend me to a husband?"

  Thurstan answered. His wife, the witch, Isolda, considered herself a shadow of her sister's beauty. "You have a large heart and an even bigger talent."

  "Neither of which is sought after when it comes to mating," Wymare said.

  Cook took a deep breath. "Wymare might be of more service to you than I'd be, m'lord. Her fingers can summon enough lightning to fry anything within reach."

  Christian knew what she was up to. He'd known her far too long. She wanted Wymare to garner some attention, to make her look more desirable. Either of the witches possessed talents he could use in this battle. Cook was an earth witch. She could move chunks of land to provide quick and effective shields when needed, and she could throw rocks as weapons. Wymare, on the other hand, could amp up her magic from sparks to full-fledged lightning attacks in mere seconds.

  He nodded. "We'll take Wymare with us, then, and leave you to care for Brina."

  Cook gave a satisfied nod. "With your fire and her sparks, you should be safe enough."

  Christian hugged Brina to his side. "Now that everything's settled, we'll ready ourselves to travel." When he started to leave the room, though, witches moved to block the arches. He frowned. What were they thinking?

  Brina turned to wrap her arms around his waist. His mother rose, too, and came to him.

  Christian had an uneasy feeling. The two most important women in his life appeared to be ganging up on him. So were his witches. For what purpose? But before he could find an answer, Brina placed her hands on his chest and Lady Enid rested her palms on his back, and they both shot magic into him at the same time. Energy surged through his veins and cells. He felt as though someone had shot acid through his entire body. It burned its way from his skin to his center. When they finally removed their hands, sweat beaded his forehead and he sagged. Thurstan had to reach out a hand to steady him.

  The women exchanged triumphant glances before Brina said, "There. You're pumped full of healing powers. Even if a snake woman strikes you, you should be fine."

  Lady Enid looked at Thurstan. "You're next."

  The werewolf turned to flee, but too late. The other witches had inched closer to circle him. Both women placed their hands on him, too, and his body writhed with their magic. When they finished, he fell to his knees.

  Lady Enid patted his head. "I've read my Tarot. You'll thank us later."

  Thurstan couldn't reply. He was panting with pain.

  Satisfied, the witches left the room. Christian and Thurstan looked at each other.

  "Good God, that hurt!' Christian rubbed his legs. "It feels like something tried to jolt my limbs off my body."

  Linata bestowed a tiny smile on them. "Love magic. You'll survive, and this way, hopefully you'll survive the battle, too."

  Thurstan struggled to his feet. "If this was love, it was damned painful."

  Wymare shook her head. "Men! Quit being such babies. We have work to do."

  A rude comment sprang to Christian's lips, but he bit it back. The girl was young. He tried to remember that. And still like her.

  Linata helped Thurstan take his first steps. "Fresh horses are readied. Let's go."

  Witches—always in a hurry. Christian groaned as he swung himself into the saddle. He'd surely be able to move again soon, wouldn't he?

  "Are you coming?" Wymare asked, steering Thurstan across the courtyard.

  A blaze lit Christian's eyes. He could feel it. If he singed her just a bit, it would serve her right, but Linata gave him a stern look, and he let the idea pass. His joints felt like they'd explode as they set off, and when the horse galloped, he cursed his mother and Brina's idea of helpfulness. He noticed that Thurstan was struggling as much as he was. But finally, the magic seeped into every part of them. The horrible pressure dissipated and the pain subsided.

  Thurstan took a deep breath. "I'm a werewolf. I heal fast. That was horrible."

  Christian wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. "Sometimes, love hurts. Especially if you've married a witch…or have one for a mother."

  Thurstan looked concerned. "So you're telling me never to worry Isolda over much?"

  "I never had fire magic until my mother thought she'd lose me to a fever," Christian said. "Then she gushed so much healing power into me, I burst into flames. I don't think I'd have survived without my father's wizard blood. Just something to keep in mind. It's not wise to scare a witch."

  Thurstan's brows rose, but he nodded sagely. "You'd best beware then, friend. Every witch in the serfdom loves you. If they thought they'd lose you, God knows what they'd do."

  Good Lord, would he survive their care? He pushed the thought away. It was best to concentrate on the problem of the moment.

  This time, they traveled during the day. They rode, single file, past the villages and out the gates of the stone wall. Christian didn't push for speed since Wymare and Linata weren't used to horses. Once out in the open fields, the women rode between him and Thurstan.

  Grasslands and forests spread before them. A few farms dotted the landscape, but only brave souls took their chances outside the protection of the fortress. In theory, they still tilled Christian's property. He owned every rabbit, shaft of wheat, and serf until he reached the beginnings of Gilbert's lands. But he mostly left these people to themselves. They paid minimum dues and received minimum benefits. If danger approached, he raised a flag high on his ramparts to warn them, and they were welcome to tumble inside his fortress until the threat passed.

  The villagers who dwelled inside his walls paid slightly more in taxes, but Christian had built wells in each village to provide water for them. He'd installed wooden doors on each of their huts to keep out unwanted animals or intruders. And every lord in the country, except for Brom, taxed their serfs ten times more with little or no benefits. Gilbert had been one of the worst.

  The spring air felt bracing as they traveled. White clouds scudded through blue skies. Bees droned in tall grasses, darting from one wild flower to the next. They ate crusty bread and chunks of cheese as they rode. They stayed away from forests with their dark hiding places and talked little.

  * * *

  By the time they reached Aelio's castle, the sun had set. Linata looked tired to the bone. Wymare slid from her horse, exhausted. Christian made a point of making noise as they dismounted. Before he could knock on the fortress door, it opened and Jarman grinned at them.

  "What took you so long?" the vampire asked.

  Christian grimaced. "Some of us can't fly."

  They'd taken their horses inside the castle for safe keeping when Brom and Ignisia landed in the courtyard on their dragons. Two other dragons—a long, supple, blue one and a brilliant green one—accompanied them. Christian and Thurstan cranked up the heavy, iron gates that led to the dungeons and led the dragons inside. Then they all settled in the small kitchen and visited by torch and candle light. Aldith and her lover, Forwin, arrived to join them.

  Aelio looked embarrassed. "I came here to fight my foes. I have some foods in the cellars, but I'm not really a cook. I can't offer you anything worthy of your stations to eat."

  Ignisia grimaced. "English food is bad enough, but lack of it is even worse."

  Wymare stood and started to the fireplace. "I've worked with Cook in Christian's kitchens. I can make us something to fill our stomachs, if nothing else."

  "No spices?" Ignisia asked.

  Christian and Brina had eaten suppers at Brom and Ignisia's fortress. An old, dark-skinned woman prepared them. The foods were flavored with exotic spices that he'd never tasted before. He enjoyed them, but his thoughts went to Cook's succulent pigs, roast beefs, and roast chickens. They all took a long time to cook. His stomach growled. He was hungry now.

  Wymare grimaced. "I'll make something fast." She glanced at Aeli
o who led her to the cellars. They returned with rounds of bread and a circle of cheese. "You can start with that."

  Christian and Thurstan exchanged glances. More of their traveling food.

  Aelio placed bottles of wine on the table and tossed dried fruits into a bowl. Then, she went to the fireplace to help Wymare.

  The men dove into the food. Ignisia picked at the fruits. Aldith and her mate, Forwin, wrinkled their noses at the meatless start, but their hunger overrode their pickiness. They ate too, washing their food down with copious amounts of wine. Wymare boiled salted fish in a cauldron that hung over the flames. Aelio chopped onions and added them to the pot. The two women kept up a running conversation as they cooked.

  Christian forced himself to forego more bread and cheese, so that he wouldn't ruin his meal, even though it didn't smell promising.

  Laughter rang from the two women at the fire. Christian scowled, in no mood to be merry. He looked to Linata. "Let's make your magic bubble before we have no energy to do so."

  They stood, and Christian stayed close to Linata's side, to protect her if need be, as they walked outside and she performed her magic rituals. Once the fortress was sealed and they returned, the women were dishing up. Christian's stomach rumbled.

  Aelio frowned at the strange concoction . "Wymare emptied the water often to rinse the fish, but I hope it's edible. We were in a hurry."

  Christian picked at his cautiously. He took a large gulp of wine to help wash his down.

  "I miss lemons," Aelio told them. "Lemon trees grew in back yards where I grew up. They added so much flavor to everything we ate, but they won't grow here. The winters are too cold."

  Ignisia pushed her plate away with a derisive snort.

  "This tasted fine to me," Thurstan said, and Brom stared. "When you travel, you eat whatever fills your belly," the minstrel explained.

  Wymare shook her head. "I've met your wife. Any woman who weaves the fabrics she does must be an excellent cook."