Midnight Warrior (30 page)

“Bathsheba …”

“We are
one
. Why do you push me away?”

“We are not one.”

“Do you think I would have fought you and for you if I hadn’t been certain? God’s blood, I have no desire to have a woman rule my life. The only way I can tolerate it is if I also rule yours. We will be one. We
are
one.”

“I don’t rule your life. You do what you please with me and everyone around you.”

“Is that why I’m traveling to this unbreachable island to seek a treasure that no one has ever heard about?”

“You said you believed me.”

“I want to believe you, but I’d go to Gwynthal anyway. Nothing could keep me away now.”

“Why?”

“Because I think the answer is there.”

“Answer?”

“To why you’ll not admit what we both know is true.”

She shook her head. “I’ve told you what waits for you at Gwynthal. You will find nothing else.”

“No? We will see.”

To her relief, he lay back down. Perhaps this tortuous passage was at an end. She was awhirl with the strange thoughts and doubts he had put into her head. She was not as he saw her. She was always honest with herself. Why would she continue to push Gage away when she had admitted to herself that she loved him?

Yet it was true that she would have given Malik or Adwen her faith no matter what the circumstances.

But Gage was different. Gage exuded a dark violence that neither of them possessed.

“I will never talk of this again. I’ll never ask you for fairness or honesty,” Gage said. “But I swear everything
I said to you tonight is truth.” When she did not answer, he laughed without mirth. “And you say you’re not hard. Let’s test you, shall we? You said you thought I was the one suffering. You’re right. Do you know the pain a man suffers when he wants and cannot spend?”

She did not know but she had suspected. He had tried to keep it from her, but once she had seen his face twist with agony, and there were times he had lain apart from her, his muscles knotted, his spine rigid.

“It’s a torment you cannot imagine.”

“Then don’t put yourself in such a position.”

“By denying me, you hurt me. Doesn’t that offend your healer’s instincts?”

“No.” It was not the truth. The thought of Gage in physical pain was agonizing. “It’s your own fault.”

“No, it’s yours. All you need do is yield to me and the pain will go away. I will be healed.”

“I won’t listen to you,” she said desperately.

“But you will remember.” He drew her into his arms. “Won’t you, Brynn?”

Yes, she would remember. Even now the tautness of his muscles was being mirrored in her own body. She closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.

A long silence fell between them before Gage said, “Brynn.”

“I don’t want to talk anymore.”

“Kythe.”

She was taken by surprise at the change of subject. “What?”

“When will we reach Kythe?”

“I’m not sure. Tomorrow or the next day. I don’t remember very much about how long it took us between the Welsh border and Kythe.”

“I find it curious you remembered everything else. You knew every stick and stone of the way here before we reached it.”

She felt a sudden burst of rage. “Well, I don’t remember
how long it took us after we left Kythe. I’m not perfect. You can’t expect me to remember everything.”

He was silent again. “We don’t have to go to Kythe. We could go direct to the sea.”

“We need supplies, and Kythe is the only village nearby. Why shouldn’t we go?”

“Your mother.”

She felt her chest tighten and the familiar coldness of her hands. “That happened a long time ago.”

“They also wanted to burn you,” he reminded her dryly.

She felt a surge of hope. Perhaps there was good reason for them not to go. “You think there will be danger?”

“No, I’ve no doubt we can handle any attack from farmers and shopkeepers.”

She was being foolish … and cowardly. “Then we will go to Kythe.”

“You’re certain?”

“Of course I’m certain. As I said, it was a long time ago.” She closed her eyes. “Now I’m weary of speaking of this nonsense. I want to go to sleep.”

They reached the village of Kythe late the next afternoon. It was an ordinary village of thatch-roofed cottages in the shadow of Kythe Castle. Ordinary and peaceful. No feeling. No memory.

Screams. The crackle of flames. The smell—oh God, the smell!

“What is wrong?” Adwen whispered, her gaze on Brynn’s face. “You look as—”

“I can’t stay here.” Brynn felt as if she were smothering.

“But Gage says we must get food and supplies from the villagers.”

“Then let him get them. I can’t stay here.” She turned her mare and kicked it into a headlong gallop.

She heard Gage call her name, but she didn’t stop until she was several miles outside the village. Then she slipped from her horse, staggered a few feet, and was violently sick.

Smoke. Screams
.

“Christ.” Gage’s arm was around her waist, holding her steady as she heaved and heaved again.

When she was finally able to lift her head, she gasped, “I will not go back. I can’t do—”

“No one is asking you to go back,” Gage said roughly. “If you’d said anything about—I shouldn’t have listened to you, but you acted as if you didn’t mind, dammit.”

“I wasn’t sure … I didn’t think about it.” She staggered to lean against a tree. “I’ve never let myself think about it since that night.”

“You know I wouldn’t let any of the villagers harm you.”

“I know …” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the trunk. “They’ve almost forgotten about it.”

“What?”

“I
feel
it. So much evil and they hardly remember. Once in a while it comes back to them and they feel anger … satisfaction and pleasure.” She was beginning to shake. “Pleasure!”

She was in his arms, her head pressed against his chest. “Hush.”

“She was good. She wanted to help, to heal …”

“Shall I burn it down?”

She looked up at him, shocked. “What?”

“They burned her. Shall I burn the village to the ground?”

“You wouldn’t …”

“Look at me. Would I do it?”

Warrior. Hard. Merciless. “Yes.”

“They hurt you. Revenge can be honey-sweet.” He
smiled with cold savagery. “Shall I let you light the torch?”

She shuddered. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded jerkily. “Even if I could do it, she would not have wanted it. She wanted to help them.”

He shook his head. “Then you’re a fool to follow her example.”

“Perhaps.” She swallowed. She couldn’t argue with him with that horror so close. It was hard to remember her mother’s teachings when she could think only of the way she had died. “Can we leave this place?”

“As soon as Malik comes with the supplies. I told them to hurry. We should be miles away from here by nightfall.”

“You can go back if you like. I don’t need you.”

“I’ll stay.” He stepped back. “Don’t move. I’ll get water and a cloth to cleanse you.”

She didn’t think she could move if she tried. Never in her life had she felt this limp and weak.

He was back in a moment, wiping her face as if she were a small child, and then he gave her water to wash her mouth.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes.” She was still shaking but was no longer ill. “I just want to be gone from here. I cannot stand … She was so good and they’ve forgotten that about her.…”

“Shhh.” He sat down and drew her back into his arms, cradling her. “Tell me about her.”

“That night? I can’t—”

“Not that night. Tell me of
her
.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll never forget. Tell me what to remember of her.

What was her name?”

“Mairle.”

“What did she look like? Was she fair like you?”

“No, she was dark. She had fine blue eyes. Deep blue, not like yours. She had a lovely smile. She smiled a lot … until my father left.”

“Was she kind to you?”

“Oh, yes, she said we were like sisters as well as mother and daughter.”

“Sisters?”

It was hard to explain. “We were equal because of the healing. It was as if we were alone in a circle that no one else could enter. She kept saying, ‘Don’t worry, Brynn. They can’t come in but we can go out to them.’ ” Her hand clenched on his tunic. “But when she went out of the circle to help them, they killed her. She should never have done it. I told her. I could see how fearful they were becoming after she lay with Roark.”

“Who was Roark?”

“The baker’s son. He was only nine years old. He was climbing in a tree and had a terrible fall and I think his back was broken. He was dying. The herbs did no good; they only brought sleep. She knew she would have to lay hands on him.”

“As you did with Malik?”

“Yes, as I did—” She stopped. What was she saying? The words had come tumbling out in a frantic release of feeling. She had already revealed too much while healing Malik, but she must never speak, never admit to this. Had she learned nothing from her mother’s death? “No, it was the herbs. Touch brings only comfort. It’s not—”

“Tell me,” he urged hoarsely. “You need to let it out. Whatever it is has been festering within you all these years. Trust me. Don’t you know by now that I’d never hurt you?”

He was right. The memories she had suppressed had been full of poison and fear, but she could not—

“Don’t be afraid. It hurts me when you’re afraid.”

She didn’t want to hurt him. She never wanted to
hurt Gage.… He held her gaze, and she saw only truth, the will to know and nothing to fear.

Yet she still couldn’t look at him as she told him. She buried her head in his chest. “The herbs do much. Knowledge of their use does more.” She paused and then said in a rush, “But the touch heals.”

He was silent.

“Why am I telling you this? You don’t believe in anything you cannot see.”

“Because you need to tell me.”

Yes, that was true and perhaps his disbelief only made the confidences safer. “It’s not magic. I think it comes from God. I think he chooses certain people to give this gift and it must be used.” Her voice was suddenly fierce. “It’s
not
unnatural. No more than the gift of a beautiful voice or grace of movement. It’s just not … usual.”

“And people don’t understand.”

“No.”

“When did you realize you had this ‘gift’?”

“The year before we left Gwynthal. I wasn’t frightened. My mother had told me that it was always passed from mother to eldest child and would probably come while I was still a child. She received the touch when she was only seven.”

“Why should you have been frightened?”

“Because it came to me when I knew I had to heal Selbar.”

He stiffened. “And am I finally to know who is this Selbar?”

“A wolf. I found him hurt in the forest, his shoulder and chest had been ripped open. He had been gored by a stag.”

His eyes widened. “A wolf!” He started to laugh, “A wolf?”

“A beautiful wolf. He would have died if the healing hadn’t come to me.”

His laughter disappeared. “And you might have died while tending your ‘beautiful’ wolf.”

“It was a gift and had to be used.”

“I think your mother would have forgiven you for not using it in this case.”

“But I would not have forgiven myself. Not after it came to me.” She thought back, remembering that day in the forest. “It felt very strange. My hands began to tingle and then they felt almost hot, and when I put them on the wound I could feel Selbar’s flesh begin to heat. I stayed with him all through the night, and in the morning I knew he would live.”

“He might have lived without you.”

“Yes, if God willed it. I don’t say the gift works all the time. It’s easier with children or people like Malik, who see clearer than the rest of us. But sometimes they won’t come back. Sometimes they die.…”

“But the baker’s son didn’t die?”

“No, he lived and he healed. Four months later he was back climbing trees. At first they called it a miracle.” She shut her eyes. “And then they called it something else.”

“Witchcraft.”

She shuddered at the word. “She was not a witch. I’m not a witch. It’s a gift.”

He was silent, holding her in blessed comfort.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?”

“I wish I could. If it was within my power, I’d give you what you wish of me.” He stroked her hair. “But I know you’re not a witch and that you’re kind and lovely and desire only the best. And I will fight to protect you and what you term your ‘gift’ until the day I die. Is that enough?”

It was not enough; it still left her alone in the circle. Yet it was still a gift without price. He had heard what she was and not shown the revulsion or fear she had seen on the faces of those others who had learned of
the gift. He had said that no matter what she was, he would accept her. She experienced an easing, as if a burden had been lifted from her. “I cannot ask that of you. The gift is mine and so are the consequences.”

“You’re not asking; I’m telling you.” He pressed her face into his shoulder. “Now, speak no more about it. Rest and drive everything from your mind until we can leave this place. How far are we from this fishing village?”

“Selkirk? A full day’s journey. We should camp here tonight.”

“And are you leading my men now? I say we go on as soon as they come with the supplies. I want to be gone from here. We’ll travel all night and reach the village while it’s still light and I can find a ship for which to barter.”

He never traveled at night; everyone knew that it was far more dangerous for both animals and humans. He was doing it because she needed to be away from this place. Warmth flowered within her, and she closed her eyes and let it flow over her. Conflict would inevitably come again, but she would accept his strength and comfort and enjoy this moment now.

The day was cutting-cold and the wind stung viciously when they arrived at Selkirk at dawn the next day. The village looked smaller to Brynn. She had remembered it as a bustling, noisy town, but there were only twenty or so houses perched haphazardly along the rocky beach. It was too early in the day for there to be many people stirring in the streets, but she could see two small boats putting out to sea and four others being readied.