The Christian & Brina Collection

by Judith Post

  Daralys pointed. "My father and brothers!"

  "Go to them," Christian told her. "Enjoy yourself."

  She slid from her horse and raced through the clumps of people milling here and there. Lynet looked for her family, saw them, and rushed off, too. Christian scanned the area, the skies above them. If someone or something were going to attack, this would be a perfect opportunity, but so many witches were at the festival, they should be able to get most everyone to safety.

  A circle of people listened to musicians, playing a fiddle, a dulcimer, a pipe, and a flute. Some villagers danced to the tunes. Christian recognized Thurstan's voice when he sang a bawdy tune, accompanied by laughter.

  "Which wagons do you wish to visit?" he asked his mother and Brina.

  Brina's blue eyes glowed with excitement. "I've never had money to spend when I came here. I'd like to start at one end and work my way to the other."

  Christian realized that last year at this time, his wife still worked in his kitchens—a secret everyone in the castle kept from him. "We're in no hurry," he told her. "We can spend all day here."

  She beamed, but his mother shook her head. "Cook and I are meeting at the spice vendor's. We might stop to look at silk, too. And then we're going to return. Cook's worked too hard to ready things for the feast. She's tired."

  "And you?"

  "I've been to many caravans. Their goods don't fascinate me as they once did."

  Christian nodded. He watched his mother turn her steed to the far side of the encampment, and then he led Brina to the first wagon at the east end. If she wanted to visit each and every merchant, that's what they'd do.

  He reconsidered that idea two hours later. How could a very pregnant woman have so much energy? Why didn't she wilt in the heat? They'd looked at the wooden bowls and spoons at the first wagon—"carved from teak," the merchant told them, "unavailable in these regions," then they looked at dyed wools from the northlands—"a better guard against cold," stained glass from Italy—which had proved costly, but if it made Brina happy, what did he care?—fired pots, jewelry with rare gems, and much, much more. When they reached the third wagon from the end, it was closed.

  Christian frowned, and the merchant in the wagon next to theirs called, "When we arrived, the husband was nearly exhausted from our long trip, and his wife didn't look much better. They'll be open tomorrow."

  With a nod, Christian led Brina to the next stall. Spices—exotic scents and colors she'd never seen. They spent a long time looking at saffron, basil, and who knows what else? Gratefully, he noticed the last wagon sold big metal pots to hang inside fireplaces and heavy skillets. Brina glanced at it and shook her head, uninterested.

  After making certain their packages would be delivered to the castle, they made their way home. Brina glowed with the joy of multiple purchases, and he couldn't be happier. She didn't feel comfortable spending his fortunes, but the fair had changed that. He grinned. Who knew what she'd be up to now?

  They didn't all unite again until they sat at the big, wooden table in the kitchen for a late supper. They'd eaten at the festival, so Cook kept the meal simple—four, roasted chickens, bread and cheese, and stewed pears. She motioned to Lynet to place the food on the table. Thurstan sat beside Isolda, who was swollen with child, and Brom beside Ignisia, swollen also. Once the sun set, Jarman—their vampire friend, and Emma—his wife, joined them. It was the first time Daralys met any of them.

  Daralys looked around the table, blinking at her companions. "You're all exceptionally beautiful, but you look like mortals. I thought there'd be some difference, something to set you apart."

  "Why, thank you." Jarman smiled. He, as vampire, might be more beautiful than all of them with his long, flowing, brown hair, brilliant green eyes, and air of seduction. Brom shrugged. "Vampires are always pretty to look at, but don't their beauty fool you. They don't show their fangs until it's too late."

  Jarman used a slice of bread to catch the juices from the chicken. "At least, we're attractive. Surely Brom's not in the running."

  Cook snorted as she whipped cream. "Before Ignisia claimed Brom, women threw themselves at him." With his black hair and eyes and his air of danger, Christian's former general had to beat females away.

  "What were their options back then?" Jarman said. "I hadn't arrived yet."

  "Suck eggs!" Brom prompted. "Oh, sorry, I guess you'd rather suck blood."

  Lynet turned to look at the vampire, her eyes wide.

  He took a bowl of jam from her trembling hand. "Don't worry, little morsel. I abstain from humans."

  Startled, Daralys turned to Brina. "They're all friends, aren't they?"

  Ignisia laughed. "They'd die for each other, but they wouldn't give one another a compliment if you shot fire at them." Which her dragons could do.

  Daralys nodded, finally understanding. "Like my brothers."

  "Exactly." Brina waved their silliness away. "Always heckling each other, but lord help anyone who attacks one or another of them."

  Lynet started to turn, but suddenly gripped Christian's shoulder to keep from falling. He reached out to steady her. They were overwhelming the girl. She was new to the castle and to their different magicks. Her face went slack, and he worried she'd faint. They all stared as Lynet's gaze turned far away. Her whole body went rigid as she concentrated on something they couldn't see. Then, just as suddenly, she went limp. Christian jumped to catch her and gently sat her in his seat.

  Her entire body shook. She searched each of their faces, then pointed at Brom. "You're in danger."

  Ignisia gripped her husband's arm. "No one gets to my husband unless he goes through me and my dragons."

  Lynet stared. "I see him falling on his knees, shivering with fever. He's too mortal."

  Fever. Christian thought of his childhood, and fear crawled through his veins. He looked at his mother. "Have you told her about your visions?"

  Lady Enid shook her head.

  Brom frowned. "I was mortal at one time, before I married Ignisia and became a dragon rider."

  "Not enough." Lynet studied him closely, looking uncertainly at Lady Enid, who'd remained silent throughout the meal. "He'll die."

  "Why?" Ignisia looked at Christian for answers.

  Lady Enid explained. When she finished, she said, "My visions showed magic users as safe. Brom's dragon chose him, so I thought he must have magic of his own."

  "But it's not enough?"

  Lynet shook her head.

  Ignisia pushed away from the table. "I heard that you magicked healing into Christian and Thurstan. Can you infuse Brom with it?"

  Lady Enid nodded.

  "Then do it." Ignisia placed a hand on her rounding stomach and grimaced. "Sorry for snapping at you. I haven't suffered any morning sickness or upsets since I became pregnant, but it hasn't improved my humor."

  Brom glanced at his wife. "She's used to giving orders, but not to friends."

  Ignisia scowled. "Or to you, my husband, but you'll do this to please me, won't you?"

  Brom looked wary. Her tone sounded more like a command than a request. "Christian and Thurstan's knees buckled when the healers laid hands on them."

  "A little pain won't kill you." Ignisia looked at Cook and Daralys. "Do it."

  Brom opened his lips to protest, but Cook, Lady Enid, Brina, and Daralys laid hands on him. He trembled, trying to stay conscious. When they finished, he slumped forward, twitching in agony.

  Lady Enid said, "He'll carry that with him for life, like Christian has."

  Brom took quick, shallow breaths. He gripped the table with both hands. "How did you survive it?" he asked Christian.

  "I didn't have a choice." Brina shot him a sour look, but it was the truth. His mother's and wife's magic was potent, and it hurt like hell.

  Cook slapped Brom on the back. "Give yourself a few minutes. You'll feel better than ever. I made dessert."

  Christian laughed. When Cook raised a threatening eyebrow, he said, "When I was a l
ittle boy and something awful happened to me, you always brought me dessert. Your words brought back memories."

  The old witch beamed at him. "A sweet can fix many things." She returned with a trifle that looked so decadent, Christian had to agree with her.

  Jarman dished up the airy confection, letting Lynet have a few minutes to regain her composure. Thurstan fetched another bench for her to sit on and brought her a plate. He brought a second one for Cook.

  "Let's all sit and talk," Jarman invited.

  Lady Enid looked at Lynet. "I didn't know you were a seer."

  Lynet swallowed, still filled with nervous energy. "Neither did I."

  "Maybe having you read the Tarot awakened your gift."

  The girl's eyes went wide. "My family, they were at the fair."

  "The festival?" Dread gathered in Christian's stomach, knotted, and grew heavy.

  Lynet closed her eyes, searched for answers. When she opened them, she pinched her lips together, frightened. "The wagon that was closed." She shook her head.

  "Disease." Why hadn't Christian thought of that? "Vampires don't get sick. Neither do witches or werewolves. Humans …."

  He let his words trail. A cold shiver raced up and down his spine. Most of the villagers had attended the festival. "The caravan," he said.

  Daralys's hand went to her throat and she took a deep breath. "My father and brothers were there."

  How could he be so stupid? "The merchants travel from place to place. They bring exotic goods." Christian didn't like where his thoughts were leading him. "I'll go visit the wagon that was closed tomorrow."

  Daralys' face drained of color. "I have to go to my family."

  "And mine?" Lynet asked.

  Daralys nodded. "We'll visit them both."

  "Go to the stable. Take my horses." Christian looked at his mother and Cook. If he was right, if a disease had traveled along with the merchants, could they lay hands on his people before they were stricken? Could they save as many of his serfs as possible?

  Brina squared her shoulders. "I'm a healer, too." She'd noticed that he didn't look her way.

  "You're with child. It's been a long day." He didn't want her going from house to house in the middle of the night.

  "He's right," Lady Enid said. "Cook and I will start tonight, and you can join us tomorrow."

  Brina would have argued, but Cook cut her off. "You have dark circles under your eyes. What good will you be to us in the days ahead if you don't watch your own energy?"

  Brina sighed, frustrated, but she gave a quick nod.

  "What can we do?" Jarman asked.

  "If people survive, they'll be weak," Lady Enid said. "Cool cloths and soup will help revive them."

  With a nod, Jarman rose. "Give us some place to stay, with no sun to worry us, and we can work twenty-fours a day. The entire pack will help. We don't HAVE to sleep, like mortals."

  "The garrisons," Christian said. "There's one on each fortress wall and more at the fences."

  "Come." Jarman took Emma's hand, but she shook her head.

  "I'll stay here with Isolda. We can work with our fellow witches. Let me know where you are, and I'll join you later."

  With a nod, Jarman left.

  Brom and Ignisia both turned to Christian. "What would you have us do?"

  "Stay away. Stay healthy, and don't let your people leave your serfdom until it's safe."

  Brom nodded.

  Thurstan rose. "Werewolves are protected, too. Where do you want me?"

  "Help Emma and Isolda," Christian told him. "Don't let Isolda wear herself out. She's with child, too. Keep fires burning and soup pots hot. Whatever needs done."

  Christian watched his mother and Cook dress in their plainest garments and leave the castle. Would they be in time? If they fought the disease before it gripped his lands, could they defeat it?

  He had an idea. He called out to his mother, "Heal my soldiers first. We'll become an army of helpers."

  She nodded, and she and Cook turned toward the garrison and guard house.

  Christian shook his head, irritated with himself. A thick, stone wall protected his castle. He'd built a second, tall, wooden fence to circle the villages beyond the fortress. He meant to protect his people. But he'd invited them all to the festival of traveling merchants. He couldn't build a wall to keep them safe from disease.

  He remembered the fever that took so many when he was a boy. His uncle was still lord then, and he killed anyone he suspected of magic, so no healers could ply their skills. His mother had to pretend to use herbs to help the sick. She couldn't even save his uncle when he'd taken ill, or he'd know her secret.

  Since he'd become lord, Christian had embraced magic. While other serfdoms burned or hanged witches, he offered them sanctuary. Could they make a difference? He felt sick to his stomach, not with disease, but with worry. How could he fight a plague?

  * * *

  Christian had worked late into the night, organizing his soldiers to fight an invisible enemy, but still, he rose early to leave the castle. He tried to move quietly, but Brina propped herself on an elbow and said, "What are your plans?"

  "I mean to visit the caravan before it opens. I need to close it down."

  "And?"

  Sunlight slanted through the shutters, highlighting her golden hair with bright rays. His breath caught. She was so beautiful, so special.

  "You're not leaving until you tell me, and if you aren't fully honest, I'll return the favor." Brina didn't make empty threats.

  He ran a hand through his brown, shoulder-length hair, and she smiled. She loved his hair. She told him that often. Irritated, he said, "I don't want you to come with me."

  Her right brow rose, the one he considered a warning. "And why is that?"

  Oh, to hell with it. "If they're sick or dead, I don't want you around them."

  "You're being silly. The baby and I are safe from diseases. I'm coming, too. I might be of help." When he started to complain, she pushed herself from the bed and said, "Unless you'd rather I ride by myself."

  He'd learned when to admit defeat. When his father died, and the fever had taken his uncle, he'd been raised by strong women. His mother and Cook proved forces to be reckoned with. Brina, for all of her femininity, had a mind of her own.

  They left the castle before the sun rose over the hill. When he reached the caravan, two merchants were setting up, readying to sell their wares. He noticed that most of the wagons were still closed.

  Flies buzzed outside the first wagon. A bad sign. Christian motioned for Brina to stay on her mare and strode to its arched, wooden door. When he pushed it open, the stench of disease and death assaulted him. He covered his nose and mouth with his hand. A husband and wife and two, young children lay in their beds, skin blue, eyes bulged. They'd been dead a while.

  He backed down the steps, closing the door behind him. He shook his head at Brina. "Too late."

  She nodded and motioned to the next wagon.

  When he opened that door, groans greeted him. Brina heard them and came to help.

  The husband had collapsed. A bucket lay on its side next to him. He must have gone to get water, dropped, and fallen on his way to his wife and small infant. The infant was dead.

  Brina winced when she saw it, but went straight to the wife and pressed her hands against her chest. The woman sucked in a sharp breath when the magic entered her, and within minutes, her coloring looked better. Brina left her to help the husband. His body jerked when the healing energy sped through him, but soon, he pushed himself onto his elbows and arched his back off the wooden floor. He turned and squinted at Brina and Christian. "Thank you," he whispered.

  Christian heard horses' hooves approaching and went to greet his mother, Cook, and Daralys.

  Cook's lips pinched together in a grim line. "You should have called for us. We wouldn't have known where to find you if Lynet hadn't told us."

  Christian blinked. "You worked most of the night. You needed rest. How did
Lynet know where we went?"

  Lady Enid raised an eyebrow. "She just does."

  Oh, right. "She's done a great service then." He looked up and down the row of wagons. Only two families had wandered out to see what they were doing. "I'm thinking a lot of the merchants are sick."

  With a brief nod, Lady Enid started toward one of the end of the caravan. Cook took the other, and Brina and Daralys started in the center and worked in opposite directions.

  Christian hauled dead bodies out of wagons. He fetched buckets of water for the healers. He was leaving for another trip to the well when he saw movement at the edge of the woods. He stopped and crossed his arms, waiting to warn away whoever was coming.

  A tall, lean man in a dark robe strode toward him. Why such a heavy garment? The sun blazed overhead. When the man noticed Christian, he stopped and raised his head so that Christian could see the red glow of his eyes.

  Not good. Vampires' eyes went red with blood lust. Was this man a vampire whose long robes protected him in sunlight? Christian spread his feet in a fighter's stance, planting himself firmly between the man and the caravan.

  "Come no farther," he called.

  Full lips lifted in a grin and the stranger took Christian's pose, aping him. "How will you stop me?"

  Christian called on his magic and burst into flames. "These people are in my serfdom. It's my duty to protect them."

  "Really? Why? They're just mortals. Merchants and peasants. You can find more."

  "I promised these ones safety."

  The man raised a hand, and Christian braced himself, but he only tugged at his hood, letting it drop to his shoulders. Fiery red hair spilled down his back in a thick coil. His voice showed surprise. "Enough to die for them?" He took a few steps closer.

  "It won't come to that."

  "You're not afraid of disease?"

  "My magic protects me." Christian's fire grew larger, forming a huge halo.