Sorceress (46 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

P
anic seized Bryanna.

Hallyd’s men had tracked them down? Within an hour of their arrival at Llansteffan? How? Turning her head, she saw the soldiers in the farrier’s hut—three of them, it seemed, as she didn’t dare let her eyes linger on them. As calmly as possible, she and Gavyn joined the throng edging toward the main gate with its soaring twin towers. Gavyn led Harry while she walked on the far side of the packhorse, her hair tucked into the hood of her mantle. Though the topaz and Sacred Dagger were tucked safely in her pouch, she felt as if she were wearing a sign, a mark that she was the daughter of Kambria, the sorceress Hallyd’s men were searching for.

They were nearly at the gate when she heard a shout. “Hey!”

Her heart dropped like a rock.

“There she is!”

A glance back confirmed her worst suspicions: the soldiers were hurrying toward them.

There were three men, two in the colors of Chwarel, one dressed as a soldier from Agendor. “Halt!” one cried.

Oh, God! Bryanna and Gavyn swept through the gate, beneath the portcullis, and ran down the road. The soldiers shouted behind them, the pounding of horses’ hooves joining the fray. Bryanna chanced another look, only to see a merchant’s cart squarely blocking the gate. He stood beside the cart, pointing to a wheel that appeared stuck. The soldiers and their horses could not get by.

Gavyn helped her onto Harry’s back, then ran beside them down the hillside, where they ducked into the woods and the gloom of the coming night. It was now too dark to see what was happening in front of the castle gate, but Bryanna suspected the soldiers had gotten past the cart. On their faster steeds, they would be upon them soon.

To think that they’d come this far only to be captured.

Hurry,
she silently urged Harry. The instant they reached the fresh horses, she slid off the packhorse’s back over the clamor of shouts and pounding hooves.

The darkness was so thick she could barely make out the trees now, and she prayed Hallyd’s men would be equally hindered.

“They went this way.”

“Nay . . . are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“By the Christ, it’s so bloody dark!”

Beside her, she felt rather than heard Gavyn slide his bow over his shoulder, then noiselessly withdraw an arrow from his quiver.

Was he out of his mind? Was he going to shoot in the darkness, through the forest?

“Can you see the trail?” one of the soldiers said.

His voice was so close that Bryanna nearly jumped. Holding her breath, not daring to move a muscle, she silently prayed that none of the horses would nicker or move so that a bridle would jingle. Her heart pounded crazily in her ears and she held her dagger in a death grip.

She heard a rustle in the trees beside her.

She nearly fainted.

“What was that?” one of the soldiers said, his voice not ten feet away. “God’s teeth, Afal, is that you?”

She sensed Gavyn turn and train his arrow in the direction of the sound.

No one answered.

Bryanna concentrated, every muscle tense, her ears and eyes straining.

“Afal?” the soldier said again.

So close.

Nervous sweat beaded on her forehead.

Harry snorted.

Bryanna wanted to scream.

“What the hell was that? They’re over here!” the soldier said.

Gavyn released his bowstring and an arrow sizzled through the air.

“Son of a cur.”

Another arrow zipped through the night, this one from the darkness off to Bryanna’s right.

“Holy Mother Mary!” the soldier said. “Where the hell are they?”

She saw him then in a bit of moonlight. A dark predator upon a huge steed, another arrow trained upon the soldiers.

Near enough that he frightened the horses. Harry pulled on his reins. ’Twas a miracle his bridle did not jangle.

“Gavyn of Agendor, show yourself,” a second voice boomed from the other side of the copse.

They were surrounded! Dark rider on one side, soldiers on the other.

Gritting her teeth, she held fast to her dagger. If there was any magick in the blade, now was the time for it to perform.

A twig snapped and a soldier’s horse snorted. She felt Gavyn move around her, closing in on the horse and rider.

“There, I see them,” the deeper voice said. “Here, they’re over—Bloody Christ!”

Suddenly, a wolf howled, so close that the hairs on the back of Bryanna’s neck prickled in fear.

One of the soldiers’ horses squealed in fear, the noise piercing the forest. “Whoa, there . . . whoa!” Hooves crashed and branches broke as the horse took off through the woods.

“What the hell?” another soldier said as Harry, spooked, tried to bolt. Bryanna held tight to his reins, but the fool horse pulled so hard he wrested free of her grip.

“No . . .” Bryanna gasped as Harry ran into the darkness.

Panicked hooves crashed and thundered through the woods. Another horse neighed wildly and nearly knocked Bryanna over as it tore through the undergrowth, his rider swearing angrily.

And above the noise of a scuffle Bryanna heard the deep, ferocious growl of a wolf.

Bane! She knew it. The fool wolf had returned. And now, from the sounds of it, the creature was in for the fight of her life.

“Now!” Gavyn whispered, helping her onto Alabaster’s back. The clamor in the forest was deafening. Swords rang from unsheathing and the wolf snarled and growled while men bellowed that they were being attacked. The soldiers’ horses were obviously in a panic, rearing and whinnying in sheer terror.

Alabaster minced nervously, tossing her head, her muscles quivering. Rhi, too, shifted, backing into her, snorting and pawing the ground.

“Damn!” Gavyn mounted his nervous horse and pulled on the reins of the white mare . . . and at last they were off, racing through the forest, leaving the sounds of snarling, swearing men and screaming horses behind. Gavyn guided them until they reached the road, where he handed over Alabaster’s reins.

The night was blessedly silent as they headed north, the River Towy flowing darkly beside them, the moon as their guide. Bryanna’s heart was heavy as a stone. They had lost Harry and the supplies of grain and dried meat he carried. Though someone would surely find him and see to his care, she’d miss Gleda’s lame packhorse.

She was also certain that Bane had been skulking in the forest and had attacked one of the soldiers. Had the wolf survived the ensuing fight?
Morrigu, be with them both
, she silently prayed.

They traveled miles upon the main road, then as the sun rose, veered onto a more deserted path. Only when Gavyn was satisfied that they weren’t being followed did he find a small village with an inn and stables. Once in their room, they sat on the bed and retrieved the doeskin Bryanna had found at Llansteffan.

They fitted the piece of doe hide with the others. Then Gavyn watched in wonder as Bryanna placed the topaz in the lowest point on the dagger’s hilt, a vacant hole. Upon touching the knife’s handle, the brilliant yellow gem melded and fused with the steel. All three jewels glowed while the blade shimmered with new vitality.

“Three stones. But one to go,” Bryanna said, her voice tinged with relief and exhaustion.

“First, sleep,” Gavyn said, pulling her into his arms on the bed.

“Aye.” Together they fell deep into sleep, far into the next day. When Bryanna roused in the afternoon, she kissed him awake and they made love, twice, then slept until the sun was low in the western sky.

“We need to return to Calon and marry, or marry and then return to Calon,” Gavyn said, “so that you and the child will be safe.” He was standing at the window, lacing his breeches, and she watched the fluid muscles of his scarred back as he worked. Oh, how she loved that back, loved running her fingers across it as he made love to her.

Just like their first night together when she’d touched the scars from the whipping he’d received at the hands of the stable master. Just like the first night they’d been together, when he’d first made love to her.

Still nestled in the bedclothes as the sun was setting and the room held the heat of the day, she watched him. A memory of that very first joining of their bodies at Tarth flashed through her mind. The heat. The desire. The wanting. And that woozy feeling, as if she could not lift her head. What had he said?
Daughter of Kambria, you are mine.
That was it. Then he’d added,
Forever bound.

Never since that first night had he called her “daughter of Kambria.” Never had he sworn she belonged to him and him alone, nor had he uttered such possessive, irreversible words as “Forever bound.”

She sat up straighter on the bed and remembered the way her skin had crawled when he’d uttered the words, the sense of alarm that had sliced into her soul. And later, when he’d come to her again, he hadn’t made such dark decrees. His voice had never deepened into an animal growl. Her stomach churned and for a second she considered the idea that someone else had been inside her bedchamber at Tarth, someone of his build, but not his manner. The dark warrior she’d seen reflected in the mirror the next morning.

Bile rose in her throat. She wouldn’t think of it.

But as she gazed at his back, she remembered the man who had first taken her . . . the smooth skin, stretched taut over hard muscles. Without any scars.

Gavyn turned to face her and caught her staring at him. Misreading her vexation for desire, he returned to the bed and sat next to her, then slipped his hand under the covers to touch the rounding of her abdomen. As he did, a smile crept across his face. “I think it would be safer if we returned to your family’s castle, where you can worry about nothing but preparing for our child’s birth.” He kissed her forehead and massaged her belly, and she sighed as she lay back upon the pillows.

“ ’Tis not that simple,” she said as her darkest fears congealed. “I cannot abandon the quest. The dagger must be complete if the child is to be saved. And lately I’ve been wondering if our child is the one destined to be saved by the power of the dagger.”

He’d been rubbing her belly, but now his hand stopped. “Ours? You mean our babe is the child of the prophecy?”

“Aye.” She closed her eyes, miserable inside. If this were true, then her babe was not only in danger; it was probably not Gavyn’s. The Chosen One was to be sired by Darkness, and Gavyn was not possessed by evil. Unlike the nightmare lover who had come to Bryanna and taken her while she was dizzy with wine or sick with a potion.

Was it possible? Was the dream she’d had in her woozy mind real? Had a man with demon’s blood impregnated her? Oh, by the gods, she could not explain that to Gavyn, would not believe it herself, nor think that her child was not Gavyn’s.

“But our child is not yet born.” Gavyn was still going through the arguments of denial she’d suffered many a time, not wanting their child to be the future ruler named in the prophecy.

“I know, but . . . I think this may be true.” She tried to disguise her fear. Others had known that she would bear the child of the prophecy, the ruler of all Wales, an infant sired by Darkness. Gleda had warned her, though she did not mention the evil of her dark lover.

Why had Bryanna not been told?

And she could not regret it, even now. For she loved this child.
Her child.

“When you first heard of your quest, of a child to save, you were not yet pregnant,” Gavyn said. “You and I, we had not even met.”

She nodded. “I have been telling myself the very same thing,” she said, placing her smaller hand over his. “Trust me, Gavyn, we must finish this journey wherever it takes us.”

His jaw worked in frustration. “It will take us far.” He withdrew his hands and retrieved the map. “I think we are headed to Holyhead, off Anglesey Isle. . . . See here, those breaks between the land? Not rivers, but sea inlets. Your grandfather was an apothecary from Holyhead, according to the merchant who knew him. And it is west.”

“But so far north. We will be traveling farther than all the distance from Holywell to Llansteffan,” she said, thinking of the long, arduous journey as well as her growing belly. They had agreed to travel slowly, and, to make certain that no one found them, they would do much of their traveling at night. Bryanna knew it would be harder for her as the baby grew. Dispirited, she said, “ ’Twill take us nearly until the baby’s birth, or maybe thereafter.”

“We could go to Calon. ’Tis closer. Then after the baby’s birth, once you are healed and the child is weaned, we can leave him with your sister and continue. Or bring him with us.”

“Or her,” she reminded him, and he grinned.

“Or
her.
Another little red-haired sorceress who will beguile me.”

“Remember that when she is crying at night and I am cranky from lack of sleep.”

He laughed. “So tell me again: how is it you found this last stone?”

She’d told him the story in bits and pieces as they’d ridden, but now she explained about the dagger thrumming in her fingers and the day turning to night as it indicated the rock that was to be removed.

“This power the dagger has, it would have been useful in Holywell,” he said. “We could have saved much time.”

“It didn’t work then,” she said. “I’m sure of it.”

“So why does it thrum in your hand now?”

“Because it’s become more powerful, I suppose.”

“Well, let’s just hope it helps us locate the next gemstone.” He glanced to the window. “We should leave. ’Twill soon be dark.”