Blazing Earth

by TERRI BRISBIN

  Standing and brushing the dirt from his hands, he was content that at least this would go as he knew it should. He nodded to Langston and pointed at the men who stood off in the distance.

  “Tell them to leave this be for another sennight,” he said. “Then we will plant.”

  “It looks barren to me,” the man muttered as he shrugged.

  Tolan smiled and shook his head. “Well, ’tis not. The harvest will tell you so.”

  Langston walked off to speak to the men, the eighth task of just this morn, and Tolan wondered what else he could find to keep the man busy.

  No, what he needed to do was to discover the reason why Lord Geoffrey sought the circle Tolan knew lay buried deep in the impassible thicket on his lands. Though his father had passed on the knowledge that it was there and even though Tolan remembered catching a glimpse of it decades ago when just a small boy, the trees had grown into an impenetrable barrier around it. No one had seen it for years.

  Yet the nobleman knew about it and, clearly, he was terrified of the consequences if he did not find it. He might not know what it truly was, but someone did. The person who gave Lord Geoffrey the orders to find it. A person who was powerful enough and knowledgeable enough to know the importance of the stones and what their purpose was.

  Tolan turned and walked toward the outbuildings, searching his memory for what his duty was now. If he thought the circle under threat, what was he supposed to do? Who else knew the truth and how could he guard it against those who would threaten it? More than that, if he heard that voice calling, could or did others? Would more answer the summons?

  The mark on his arm pulsed then, reminding him that he might have little time to ignore this matter. If letting others get to the circle would truly bring about the end of the world, as his father had told him, what choice did he have other than to make certain that did not happen? Even if he did it alone. Even if no one else stood with him.

  He’d thought on this for hours as he’d lain awake and alone these last two nights. If he was truthful, he considered all this while trying not to think about Thea. And the nights were long enough for him to spend time doing both.

  Tolan planned to travel back to his farm alone and seek out the circle. He would see for himself what was at stake and from where that voice had spoken. Once the rest of the main fields were prepared and sown, he would be able to go there—in three or four days at the most. So he began collecting the seeds that would be the first crop to be ready. A knock on the door interrupted his work about an hour later. Expecting it to be Langston, who could never sort out his own tasks without guidance, Tolan lifted the latch, tugged the door open, only to find Thea standing there.

  “Thea, I did not expect you,” he said, not knowing what else to say. “Are you well?”

  “I am,” she said with a nervousness that had never existed between them before. “I know you are a busy man with many duties, but I wanted to ask you to come to my cottage for supper this night.”

  On any other day such an invitation would have made him smile, but this was different. Her unease sat around her like a swirling cloak, almost as protection against . . . him? And he did not like it. It reminded him too much of the first times he’d met her when she shrank away from even an inadvertent touch of his hand.

  “Thea, come in,” he said, taking her hand and tugging her inside the building and out of sight of anyone passing by. At least she did not resist his touch now.

  “I did not mean to interrupt you at your duties now, Tolan,” she said softly as he pulled the door closed behind her. “It can wait until later.”

  “Nay, it cannot,” he whispered, pulling her kerchief off and wrapping his arms around her. “I cannot.”

  He kissed her then, letting her feel his desire for her. He knew there was more between them than simple lust and he would make certain she knew that. If she thought that he would reject her for speaking her mind, she needed to know he would not. More than all that, she had to know that he was not the brute she’d married and nearly had not survived.

  Thea softened beneath his mouth as he gentled his kiss and he felt her hands glide along his back. Sliding his hands up into her hair, he held her to him with only enough strength to keep her close. If she’d stepped away, his hold would not prevent it.

  “Nothing has changed between us,” he whispered against her mouth.

  “I heard what Lord Geoffrey expects from you, Tolan. I will not be in the way.”

  Ah, so the conversation was not as private as Tolan had requested it be. Word spread from those living in the keep to the villagers with a quickness that always surprised him. Content to keep his own counsel, Tolan did understand that others found joy in sharing bits of news and gossip.

  “We can speak of that later,” he said, releasing her. “And other matters.” He kissed her once more and stepped back. The frown was still set firmly on her brow, so he reached out and smoothed it with his thumbs, cupping her face. “I will be there.”

  Thea nodded and picked up her kerchief from where he’d flung it and he watched as she covered her hair. He would have mourned for the loss of seeing it except he knew he was the only man to glimpse it uncovered, loose, and swaying around her naked body as he drove her toward carnal satisfaction. Even now he caught himself watching the way her hips moved with each step away from him.

  Shaking himself free of her spell, he turned back to his task as she headed toward the village with her basket on her arm.

  The day moved along and he tried to concentrate on what he needed to accomplish and not on her, but he could not. With all the strange possibilities surrounding him and trying to take control of his life, she was the only constant.

  The only one on whom he could depend. She worked in service to those living here much as he did. They shared a common purpose here.

  As a shiver slid along his spine, Tolan knew he would do what was necessary to keep her safe. A glance toward the shadows of the woods there told him that the men who had followed him since he left the keep two days ago still did so. Every step he took was being observed.

  And Tolan did not know why.

  The orders would have come directly from Lord Geoffrey, so it meant that he suspected Tolan of something. Was it over the matter of marriage that Geoffrey had discussed? Were they watching to see with whom he spent time? Had Tolan’s refusal of the nobleman’s help in finding an appropriate wife angered him?

  Or worse, had his ritual in the field been witnessed?

  He remembered being as careful as always when he carried out the prayers. He’d always waited until the village and farms were long settled for the night. He would have felt their weight on the earth if they stood nearby.

  Startled at that realization, he turned back to his preparations within the shelter of the building and waited for night to fall.

  * * *

  It had happened again.

  As Thea laid her hands on old Rigby’s leg, mangled months ago when the millstone broke, she felt the heat passing from her blood into the still-healing bones there. Under the guise of examining the fractures that were taking too long to heal, she slid her hands along the length of his lower leg first.

  Fortunately, he was lying back and not watching, for her hands began to shimmer. Leaning forward to cover the strange sight, Thea let nothing disturb her thoughts as she rubbed the tight skin over the broken places.

  “Ah, where was that during the cold winter nights?” Rigby said, laughing. “That eases the ache well.”

  Thea nodded and reached out to her basket, pretending to dip her hand in some unguent now that Rigby’s attention had turned. “I am gladdened that it helps. A new recipe.”

  She continued for some time, until all the places she touched felt warm and supple beneath her hands. Though she’d set his bones, she’d been able to do nothing about his knee or his foot. Those two areas had t
aken the most time to warm, so she did not rush it or think too much about the reasons she was doing this. Thea finished by spreading some unguent that she had made to keep his skin soft and wrapped some bandages around it.

  “You may sit up, Rigby, but only with help.” She felt his wife hovering behind them, waiting for word of his condition. “I think the healing is going well.” He let out a sigh that was matched by that of his wife. “I know it has been slow and you want to be back on your feet.” Thea pushed to her own feet and placed the jar in her basket. Rigby’s wife, Eldreda, walked to her side.

  “My thanks for your help, Thea,” the older woman said. “He could have died from such injuries, but your care saw him through.” The woman patted her shoulder and nodded to her husband. “He will do as you say.”

  Thea almost laughed aloud at the words and tone spoken by Eldreda. Very few people would disregard Thea’s instructions if she could use a voice like what Eldreda used on her husband. From his expression, he’d been thinking of doing something Thea had warned him not to do.

  It was hard for a man who knew only work and physical labor every day of his life to lie back and be at ease. And every day that someone else ran his mill meant a day closer to be unneeded. A dangerous state to find oneself in when a person’s value was measured by how much the lord needed your work or service. Though she was not tied to the land as others were, Thea knew that her place here, especially as a widow, was based on Lord Geoffrey’s preference.

  “I pray you will walk soon, Rigby,” she said. “But that depends on you continuing to follow my instructions and not doing too much too quickly.”

  “Oh, aye, Elethea,” Rigby said as she and Eldreda helped him to sit on the pallet. “I am a man who knows when to listen to a woman’s words.”

  Eldreda burst out laughing at his declaration and Thea could not help but stare at these two. Another example to her that all marriages were not the same and that some men could abide by their wives having a say.

  “I must go to check on Linne,” she said as she gathered her cloak and her basket on her arm.

  “A miracle, eh?” Eldreda whispered as she walked with Thea to the door. “Hilde said she’d not seen a woman survive the bleeding that Linne suffered.”

  “A miracle to be sure,” Thea added, unwilling to say more.

  “Here now, for your help, Thea,” Eldreda said, handing her a loaf of bread and a sack of flour.

  “My thanks.” She turned back to the older woman. “Try to keep him from standing until I come back,” she explained. “Or send for me if there is a problem.”

  “I will.”

  Thea walked off then, to Linne’s cottage, even while feeling that what had just happened with Rigby overwhelmed her. She needed time to think on it. To try to understand how she could be healing with her touch. That suspicion shocked her to her core.

  Herbs cured illness and eased symptoms. Concoctions, teas, and ointments made people feel better. The touch of hands could make tightness go away, but heal? It was like something out of a legend or, worse, deviltry. She made the sign of the cross in reaction to such a thought. God-fearing people did not believe in such things.

  The stinging on her arm made her hiss. Tugging back the sleeve, she found the area there was now larger and more defined. More frightening was that, as she watched, it moved and changed shape, until it was perfectly round like the sun. But this time it did not fade away as it had done before. It remained there, undulating as though something swirled under her skin.

  “You are deep in thought, Thea,” Linne said.

  Blinking and shaking herself from her reverie, Thea found that her feet had taken her to Linne’s home. The young woman sat on a bench, outside the door, in a place where the warmth of the sun would reach her. Young Medwyn at her breast, Linne was the image of health.

  “Aye,” Thea said, smiling at the young woman who should be dead and buried. “I am almost out of herbs for one of the ointments I make. Just thinking of how to manage it.”

  “You are always thinking of others, Thea.”

  Linne rubbed the babe’s head and Medwyn answered with a burp and a sigh, sliding off her breast, asleep. Thea never felt so empty as she did just now.

  “Will you come for supper?” Linne asked. “We will not keep you late.” A wink spoke of Linne’s knowledge of the pattern of Tolan’s visits.

  “I would like that,” Thea said. It would keep her from sitting in her cottage, listening for every sound that could mean Tolan approached. “But I have made other plans this evening.”

  But later, after spending the remaining hours of the day before the evening meal in her garden, pulling at weeds and the preparing the soil, she did exactly that.

  And when she sat in her chair listening for his footsteps outside her door, Thea was no more at peace with the changes happening in her life than she was clear in her understanding of what caused them. She only hoped that Tolan would be the one person she could trust, even if she did not want him to know all the secrets she bore.

  Southampton, England

  Hugh smiled smugly as his ships approached the port of Southampton on England’s southern coast. The only reason his ships made it across the channel from his lands in Brittany and Normandy was that the attentions of the Warriors were turned away.

  They thought and acted like the humans they used to be, not the beings of power that they were now. The first four had not yet accepted or understood the extent of their powers or their range. And Hugh was glad he had not told them all of it. Or he would have yet been stranded on the sea.

  As they grew closer to the shoreline, Eudes, his commander, walked to his side and waited to be acknowledged. Hugh nodded.

  “My lord, everything is readied.”

  “Our man?” The spy he’d left within those who fought with the Warriors had sent word of the discovery of the prophecy.

  “He should be waiting when we dock,” Eudes said confidently. Not comfortably, though.

  “Send him on to my cousin as soon as he gives his report,” Hugh said, turning to face the man who was his half brother. “Is there a problem?”

  “Only that we are behind them.”

  “Worry not. They are wandering and we will march with purpose and arrive from a different direction,” Hugh said, closing his eyes and searching for signs of the others. Another ability they had yet to master. “And they have no idea of where we are.”

  Ripples in the air told him of their position. The four others were north and west of him now. Stretching out his mind, he could only detect the presence of the other two, the ones whose powers had not yet erupted.

  There was still time. Time to find them and bring them into the goddess’s following. Time to teach them about the price of resistance and the reward of loyalty.

  He shivered then and the skin on his back pulled against his shirt and tunic. Burned too much and too many times, it was now beyond repair and the price he’d paid for failing Chaela.

  When he’d arrived on his lands, he sought out the place where he could reach her, and their merging, well, it had gone as badly as he suspected it would. No matter that he had groveled and begged her forgiveness in any and every way he knew how, she had never slowed in her punishment of him. Even now the pain of it tore through him, making it difficult to breathe.

  It would never heal and the torment he would feel when he turned into fire would remind him of his weakness. She had burned him to cinders and allowed him to reform, only to repeat it over and over until he could no longer heal every part of himself. The area on his back, from his hips up to his ribs, would forever remind him of her terrible wrath.

  But . . .

  He knew that the ultimate reward he would reap when he opened the gateway and released her from her prison would more than compensate him for this physical torment now. And Hugh would gladly suffer now knowing what was t
o come.

  Glorious, complete, and utter power over mankind. Kings would no longer matter. Armies would not, either. When Chaela gained control, he would oversee the breeding of more bloodline descendants and would rule over them as they worshipped the goddess. And he would take his place at Chaela’s side as her consort and they would destroy anyone who stood against them.

  The first to feel his wrath would be his ingrate of a daughter—he would destroy her before the eyes of those she led astray.

  Then he would take the Norse woman—Ran. He craved merging with her . . . and taking that magnificent body of hers even while she fought him. And she would fight him. But her strength would not be enough against him and Hugh would relish every moment of her struggles until he broke her mind, body, and soul. Then he would keep her as his concubine, breeding sons on her filled with their bloodlines. Strong sons. Many sons.

  Hugh shivered again. This time it was his cock that reacted at both the thought of joining with Chaela in human form and the satisfaction and pleasure that would also follow when he broke Ran. His body began to turn then, the flames igniting within and spreading out.

  Until the anguish stopped him; his human flesh was unable to bear the fire’s touch. He needed more time before he could face that agony again. Letting out his breath, he concentrated on the land as it grew closer.

  “My lord?” Eudes asked.

  In no mood to deal with his curiosity or his questions, Hugh sent him away with but a glance. He must ready himself to do what he had to in order to find the gateway and open it. Now, though, Hugh stood silently and tried to force his mind off the searing pain that threatened to slow him.

  Pain was nothing but a guide to what he truly wanted. Pain would never break his resolve to see the Warriors defeated. Pain would simply be a precursor to the great pleasures that awaited him when he pleased his goddess and freed her.