Risen (32 page)

This made Moira think of Niveus. She
hugged the child goodbye this late afternoon, even though Niveus
never hugged her back. “Goodbye, sweet girl. I’ll be home soon as I
can.”

“It will be a while,” the child
responded, staring over her nanny’s shoulder as though she saw
something or someone there. Moira was even compelled to glance back
over her shoulder but, as always, there was no one.

She bit her lip. “Do we find
him?”

“Yes.”

“Is he…does he…” What she wished to
know was the unthinkable.

Niveus shot her a glance. “Why do
you ask such a thing of me? Is it because you believe I know?” She
did not ask it in an accusing way, was in no way angry with Moira’s
question. She was only intently curious.

Moira gazed back at the pale face of
the child. “Niveus, I love you.” There were no more
questions.

This caused the child to briefly
flit her eyes to Moira’s before they again took up their watch over
her shoulder. She said nothing more, but for Moira it would have to
be enough. Smoothing the starkly white hair behind the little
girl’s ear, she left Niveus behind, praying that God would watch
over the lost child until she could return.

The mist continued to swirl, and
Moira was glad that she’d taken her heavier cloak. Nicolette
remained silent as onward they plodded. The evening wore on, and
there was next to no conversation, not for the maiden’s lack of
trying. On several occasions she started up with some, questions
mostly, but her lady seemed content to ignore her altogether. So
Moira gave up, lapsing into a brooding silence as she followed
behind.

When evening passed and dusk greeted
them, it was evident to Moira that they would not be camping this
night. All the better, she thought. She much preferred to be on the
horse and moving along if the wolves came. At least the clouds had
broken apart, lacy curds against starlit whey, and from behind them
shone the moon, a beaming beacon for their pilgrimage.

The women rode through the night and
well into the next day. The clouds reassembled themselves, and it
became quite grey, the sky hanging low enough that Moira imagined
it nearly touched the tops of the trees. The light was peculiar,
she thought—that ambiguous sort that made it difficult to tell if
it was indeed almost nightfall or just tricks played on her eyes.
All the while, the sparrow followed.

Still they spoke scarcely a single
word to each other, and it was Moira who, at long last, broke the
silence on this second day. “My Lady, it is reasonable that you
should be tired. We are of no use to Risen if we cannot endure. And
the horses…” She left it up to Nicolette to imagine what the issues
might be for their mounts.

It took a great deal for Moira to
say even this, for she believed herself entirely responsible for
Risen’s absence. Consequently, as they rode she tried to allow
Nicolette to be the one to suggest when they might or might not
stop. But, as it appeared she would not, and Moira was nearly
exhausted, almost so that she thought she might tumble from the
saddle at any moment, she finally summoned the courage to speak.
When it seemed Nicolette hadn’t heard her, or chose not to reply,
her spirits fell.

The blending of grey on grey had
lent Moira’s mood to self-loathing. This was contributed to by the
long journey, but mostly it was for her perceived failure to
protect Risen from being lost. She saw this as a terrible breach of
trust on her part, and wondered if her Lady really did forgive
her…and after Master Ravan and Lady Nicolette had been so kind and
generous to her. She owed her very life to the boy’s father! Just
thinking of Ravan allowed her memory to drive her thoughts to
twelve years before.

* * *

It was a wondrous stretch of days,
when Ravan saved her at the tavern. She witnessed the terrible
chain of events, ran to the stables to bring him the mare. And then
he didn’t leave her…he rescued her.

Onward they rode, the dark knight so
thin, so quiet, so strong. In his eyes was something she’d never
seen before. It was like a fire that could not be spent; it was a
burning of the most amazing sort. This man was driven. Moira had
never witnessed the sheer determination of what one such as he
possessed. It nearly exhausted her, his very presence, and when she
could scarcely ride any farther, he placed her in front of him on
the mare, held her as she slept, and rode on.

When they at last reached the castle
and approached the gates, he told her that it would be a battle,
that she would need to find safety the moment they were past the
gates…and that he would likely die that day. But that was not at
all how it happened. The dreaded one—Adorno—was gone! The guard at
the gate told them so. They were escorted into the courtyard, and
the mystic beauty and all within her realm welcomed their new
master with open arms. And what a reunion it was! Never before had
Moira seen a kiss like that. It was destiny of the most beautiful
sort, and then…there was the baby.

* * *

Moira was caught very much by
surprise when she spoke. She appeared almost startled and nearly
apologetic.

“You are right,” said Nicolette. “I
am preoccupied. My apologies, Moira. We have journeyed quite far,
so let us stop and rest—us and the horses. Then we can be on our
way first thing at daybreak.”

“Of course, my lady. As you wish.”
Moira was greatly encouraged.

The road they were traveling on was
scarcely a road at all. There were times when it dwindled away to
nearly nothing, a tangled path through the dense forest, and times
when the trees seemed to steer them one way or another, just with
the slant of their limbs. But, unusual as it was, Nicolette
appeared calm and determined, never wavering from her course, and
it amazed Moira a great deal.

Once, when there was only one
possible path that could bring them down to the narrow trail that
wound along and down a steep incline to a small valley below, they
stepped from the stand of trees to the exact, correct spot. It was
as though there was a string attached to the boy, and they were
being pulled by it.

More curious was the way Nicolette
rode the horse. Seldom did she even lift the reins. The mare simply
walked on, not altering her stride or direction, moving as though
the delicate woman upon her back was a part of her.

Now they strayed from the road a bit
before Nicolette pointed and remarked. “Here.”

She indicated a small clearing that
had unexpectedly opened up in the middle of the smoky woods. It was
closed in, nearly perfectly round, and the tree branches were so
thick overhead that it would afford some shelter even if it rained.
It seemed the perfect, safe meadow to rest.

Moira untacked and hobbled the
horses and was surprised to turn and discover a little fire already
crackling at the edge of the glade. Good, she thought. Fire was
always the best, first thing. It was their most primal defense and
would give them light and safety in the approaching darkness. Yes,
the horses would alert them first if predators were nearby, but if
the wolves came closer, they’d sniff the smoke and likely just
leave for, other than man, fire was not a friend to wild
creatures.

Nicolette was unrolling the hides
when Moira approached, kneeling softly next to her. She hesitated
before rallying her courage, taking her mistress by the hand and
squeezing it gently.

Nicolette paused, peering into
Moira’s eyes. “What is it?”

“My Lady…” Moira struggled, her
words heavy on her heart.

“Nicolette,” she said kindly,
“Please…call me Nicolette.”

Moira nodded. “Very well.” She took
a deep breath. “Nicolette…I—I just wanted to say…” She was very
nearly overcome with emotion and looked away, trying to spare
Risen’s mother further pain.

“Moira, what is it?” Nicolette
seemed genuinely confused.

“I’m so…sorry. I’m so sorry I lost
him.” There, it was out.

The dark beauty’s eyes softened, and
she held Moira’s hand with both her own. “There is a current to
life, my dear. Risen is gone because there is a tide to be
honored.” She returned Moira’s hand to her own lap. “He cannot
escape it; it has drawn him in. You could not have altered this.”
Nicolette went back to smoothing the hides as though that were all
there was to it.

“How can you believe this?” Moira
persisted. “How can you think that this is destiny, that his fate
is cast? He could be…he could be…” She almost said that he could
already be dead.

Nicolette tilted her head and
observed her companion in a most unusual way. “Not destiny, my
child.” She said this even though they were nearly the same age.
“No, God controls none of this. It is fortune of quite another
sort.”

“I don’t understand. What is it you
mean? And then, are we seeking to change it?”

“Unlike fate, fortune can be
altered…if you know how. There is no fate but what we
devise.”

Moira was swiftly overwhelmed with
an unusual sensation, as though they were there kneeling in the
meadow for a reason, as though the events about to unfold were
already prearranged. Even more surprising was that Nicolette lifted
her hands very abruptly and stood up. Extending both her hands, she
looked down at her traveling companion—her son and daughter’s
nursery maid.

“What?…I…” Moira was
confused.

Nicolette reached for her all at
once and hastily helped her to her feet.

At that very instant, the horses
snorted and spun, heads up, having sensed something the women could
not yet see. Then, from the opposite edge of the meadow, three men
appeared, riding into the clearing and across the small expanse,
straight up to the women.

Moira was immediately worried. She’d
thought it unwise to travel without guards, very risky indeed to
leave Moulin behind. True, the state of the dynasty could be at
grave risk. England was very determined, and domains were falling
every day. Even so, she’d been afraid to leave with only Nicolette,
without at least a single escort.

“Where are your men?” one of the
strangers—the most calculating appearing of the three—asked
straight up. He commanded the question as though the women were his
servants.

Before Moira could fabricate an
answer, Nicolette said flatly, “We travel alone. But why does this
concern you?”

This brought a string of chuckles
from all three of the men. The leader appeared not ready to believe
the women and scanned the edge of the woods as though waiting for
men to reappear. But, certain as Nicolette had claimed, there were
only two horses to be seen.

He took it upon himself to carry the
conversation. “That is unfortunate.” He was less cautious now,
empowered by his belief that perhaps the women truly were foolish
enough to travel alone.

“It is not, and your presence is
not welcome here either.” She stood her ground firmly, Moira
inching up behind her all the while.

Blatant laughter erupted from the
three, but it was not pleasant. When it died away, the leader swung
his leg over the neck of his horse and tossed the reins to his
companion before sliding to the ground. Then, pulling his gloves
off one finger at a time, he approached the two women slowly,
deliberately, a filthy grin revealing poorly kept teeth.

Moira scrambled, started to move in
front of Nicolette, but was pushed gently aside by her mistress. It
immediately surprised her how strong Nicolette was, for she
scarcely gave the impression that she might be able to break a
petal from a flower.

To the obvious surprise of the
unwelcome stranger, Nicolette stepped forward to meet him head on.
The man was large, not nearly as tall as Ravan, but heavy in a
sturdy way. His beard was ragged and longish. He and his men had
obviously not seen the comfort of civilization for some time. Moira
instantly believed them to be thieves.

“Leave,” Nicolette commanded. “You
are not welcome here, and there is nothing to be gained by your
staying.” She indicated the direction from which they’d
come.

“Oh…I think there is.” The stranger
was perfectly comfortable to lay his intentions straight before
them and began to ungird his belt.

Astonishingly, the sparrow appeared
from the blanketing dusk to alight on Nicolette’s shoulder. It’s
beady, black gaze branded the intruders as well. Moira’s stare was
immediately fixed on her lady, for Nicolette’s countenance so
abruptly changed that it was simply…terrifying.

The woman’s head fell back on her
shoulders, and her eyes closed. Her mouth opened, but no sound came
out. It was so startling, and evidently enough to make the man
pause, for that is exactly what he did. When Nicolette’s right arm
lifted, fragile as an icicle, her finger pointed at the man with
the loosened trousers. All the while, the sparrow
watched.

There was a span of simple confusion
when no one said or did anything before the two mounted men
realized their leader could no longer breathe. His trousers sagged
as both hands went up to his throat, and no sound escaped. The men
swung swiftly from their horses and leapt toward Nicolette as
though they might break whatever bizarre hold was upon their
man.