Coven: a dark medieval paranormal romance (Witches of the Woods Book 2) (18 page)

D
ays faded
in to each other, a never-ending ocean of agony that ebbed and flowed in great tides. My father had ceased working on me in the torture chamber. He saw no use in breaking my body, when he knew that as soon as he cleansed me of the demon, he would find me at his side once more. I didn’t bother to correct him. There was not much use talking to the righteous. Instead, he had his löwe use different techniques to keep me subdued. I knew them all well, but that didn’t stop me from succumbing to their horror.

Barba kept me locked in a dark room so small I could only stand upright. He left me there for hours on end. When I emerged my legs were so sore I could not move them. He starved me for days and then gave me a fine, rich meal – roasted pheasant, or pork stuffed with truffles and cheese – and even though I knew what would happen I was so far gone that I just gobbled it up, and for hours afterward would lie prone in a bed of my own excrement as my stomach purged itself of my overindulgence.

Through it all, Ada’s face hovered ever above my body, her kind eyes shining down on me. I felt her touch, as real as the pain that scoured my body, caressing my arms, ravishing my lips. She kept me alive, she drew me into the darkness of my own heart, where I found what little solace and strength I had remaining.

I lay on my back in the cell, my legs propped up against the wall, staring at the ceiling as strange colours swam in front of my eyes. I couldn’t tell if it was the hunger or the darkness that was messing with my vision, or if I were simply going mad from the pain.
Maybe I’ll see another image of Ada,
I thought, watching red dots and swirls move across my irises.
To see her beautiful face again would make all of this worthwhile.

I heard footsteps in the hall. I didn’t bother to rise from my position, for they would soon yank me to my feet anyway, and I was now too weak to stand under my own weight. My whole body tensed as the footsteps stopped outside my cell. I wondered what horror awaited me today. How much more would I be able to endure?

“You have a visitor,” Barba said, as he unlocked the door to my cell and ushered a cloaked figure inside. Dimly I thought to attempt to overpower him and make a move for the door, but my limbs were too weak to move. I continued to lay where I was, watching the red blobs swim across the figure’s face.

I heard the door of the cell slam shut, and Barba’s footsteps echo down the passage. The visitor did not speak, nor did he remove his hood.

After several moments of silence, curiosity got the better of me. “I’ve not many friends in these parts,” I croaked out through cracked lips.

“Who said I was a friend?” The hood spoke. A female voice. The figure raised her hands and removed the hood from her face, revealing a cruel, cold face and a head of shining black curls.

Clarissa.

I was too stunned to react, so I stared at her dumbly.

She laughed. “Why, the great Witch Hunter lies before me, utterly silent? What is the matter, Ulrich? Has Daddy pulled out your tongue? Don’t you just love the justice of it? If only he knew how horrifying this would be to the witch population of Europe. I imagine many of your father’s favourite victims have also been the victims of that slithering, pleasuring tongue of yours.”

“You,” I finally managed to croak. “
You.
”

“Yes, dear.” She patted my head, her fingers felt like ice against my burning skin. “Your witch’s little fire spell didn’t kill me. In fact, it faded quite quickly as soon as you moved away. She really needs to work on her abilities, or she’ll be no use to anyone. Not that she’s any use to you now.”

“What are you doing here, Clarissa?” I managed to choke out. “Did you come to gloat over my state?”

“Oh, nothing as petty and small minded as that.” Clarissa waved a delicate hand away.

“If you’re here to kill me, then hurry up about it.” I lifted my arms above my head. “As you can see, I’m in no state to fight you. In fact, you’d be doing me a favour if you just snuffed me out now.”

Clarissa laughed, her high-pitched voice shrill with mania. “Kill you? Oh dear Ulrich. I don’t want to kill you. I came here to teach you a lesson, of course, but killing you would spoil all my fun. In fact, I didn’t come here for you at all. It seems your father is in need of certain information, which I can provide him in exchange for certain favours of my own.”

“I don’t follow you.”

She laughed again, her tinkling laughter chilling my just as much as my father’s calm face. “You don’t? Funny, I never took you for a simpleton. But perhaps all this doom and gloom has rotted your mind, so I shall explain it all to you, very slowly. After you left me behind so cruelly in that clearing, I realized that you didn’t take your promise as seriously as you should. So I decided to follow you.” Clarissa held up her hand, and I could clearly see the dark scar across her palm from our oath. “After all, I couldn’t allow my husband to disappear on me, could I?”

“I’m not your husband.”

“Oh,” Clarissa grabbed my wrist and raised my hand into the light. Even through my pain-soaked vision I could see the scar across my palm. “But according to magical lore, the only lore that matters, you are. And I intend to have you believe it. I’ve been waiting for the perfect chance to remind you about the importance of being faithful, but I believe Bernadine’s oath has done that for me. All that’s left now is the little matter of your witch. While she lives, you and I will never had the relationship that I truly desire. But luckily, between your father and I, we should have it sorted out.”

“My father?” Something he’d said earlier was tugging at me mind, but I was too tired, too sick to put it together. “He would have nothing to do with a gypsy whore like you.”

“I’d be careful about addressing me in that tone,” Clarissa said, holding her nose in the air. “That is no way to talk to the most powerful Lady in the land.”

“You’re … Lady Benedict? But how?”

“Oh, I’ve been planning this for years,” Clarissa said. “While you and Tjard have been fucking witches and freeing whores, I’ve been secretly putting in place everything I needed. All it took was some stashed clothing and jewels stolen from your more wealthy victims, a few well-placed favours in the nobility, and a few men willing to die for me, and here I am.” She twirled around, and as the folds of fabric fanned out I saw that beneath her dark cloak she wore a fine dress woven with gold thread. The hem of her skirt had been elaborately stitched with a detailed repeating pattern – the crest I was starting to see everywhere: the two swords, and the snake.

“You’re mad,” I whispered, partly in fear, partly in awe. How had she done this? How had she built up the tools to impersonate a noblewoman right under my nose? How had she seduced the most powerful Lord in the land? And why? What was she planning? How did I factor into it?

“Oh no.” Clarissa snapped her fingers, and Barba appeared on the cell door. He swung the door open, and Clarissa slipped through. “I am blissfully sane. And now, Ulrich, I must leave you. I’ve come to speak with your father, you see. I’ve heard that he’s looking for a witch named Maerwynn, as he believes she is harbouring your Ada. And I happen to know just where this Maerwynn is hiding. Damon of Donau-Ries won’t just get the woman who corrupted his son, but he’ll be able to capture several of the world’s most notorious witches into the bargain. What price do you suppose he’ll pay for that information?”

“You—” I lunged at the door. But in my weakened state, I moved with all the speed of a snail. Clarissa stepped easily aside, and Barba slammed his club down on my head. I fell heavily back to the floor. My head spun.

“Goodbye, Ulrich.” Clarissa blew me a kiss. “I’ll be seeing you very soon, my husband.”

T
hat night
I lay in my cell, staring at the ceiling and trying to come up with a way to stop Clarissa. But nothing came to me. She had probably already told my father the location of Maerwynn’s coven, and he will have sent his best soldiers to arrest them. I had a few days to catch them, of course, but I had no means of escaping the dungeon.

Footsteps shuffled across the stone floor outside. The guards were doing their rounds. I continued to lay still, hoping that they would pass by without incident. Hopefully Damon would wait until the following day to send for me. Perhaps I would die in my sleep. Then Ada and I could find each other again in the afterlife.

Unlikely, since you’ll be heading directly to hell,
I reminded myself.

The guard stopped in front of my door and coughed. I continued to stare at the ceiling.
Go away. Just leave me alone.

The guard coughed again. I cringed as some of his spittle landed on my face.

“If you continue to hawk in my direction, I’m going to kick your testicles so far inside your body you’re going to cough them out next. “ I snapped.

“Is that any way to talk to the person who’s come to bust you out?” came a familiar voice.

“Tjard!” I rolled over and stared at the figure. He pulled down his hood and the thin moonlight shone over his dark beard and soft features. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to bust you out, of course. I’m only sorry it too me so long.”

“You were supposed to be far away from the city by now.”

“Since when did I ever listen to you?” Tjard held up the key ring. “Which one is it? We have to be quick now. I’m not certain how frequently the guard is changed. Are you going to be able to walk?”

“Probably not quickly. Thank you, my friend. I could kiss you.”

Tjard grinned wickedly. “Save the kissing for Ada. Now, stop thanking me and pay attention: which key?”

I pointed to the square-shaped key on the end. He turned it in the lock and pushed open the door. I grimaced as it creaked loudly. In the next cell I heard some of the women stirring. “Quiet,” I hissed.

“Don’t worry.” Tjard whispered in a way that was not remotely quiet. “I can be discreet. I’ll push you around a bit. They won’t even know.”

He reached down and helped me to my feet. My legs, still shaking from the tortures of the week, threatened to give way beneath me, but I managed to remain on my feet. Tjard helped me hobble to the door.

“By Lord Benedict’s steaming testicles, man. What have they done to you?” He hissed in my ear. “I’m not going to be able to help you down the hall, or the other prisoners will get suspicious. You ready?”

I took a deep breath, and nodded. Tjard pushed me forward. My feet gave way and I toppled to the ground, my knees cracking painfully against the stone floor. “Get up,” Tjard growled loudly, in a strange accent. “You’re on your way to the torture chamber, so look lively or things will be even worse for you.”

“Tone it down,” I hissed as he dragged me to my feet and pushed me along the corridor. The women in the adjacent cell watched with frightened eyes. “You sound as if you’re auditioning for a morality play.”

“I can’t help it if I was born for the stage,” Tjard whispered back.

I stumbled and shuffled along the full length of the corridor, with hundreds of doomed eyes watching me, their dual emotions washing over me. Grief, for a fellow prisoner being taken to that foul chamber, and relief that this time, this night, they were spared from suffering. I did not blame them for their relief, for I had felt it many times while I waited alone in my cell. (My father had been clever enough to give me a cell to myself. He knew that I would try to convince any fellow prisoner to work with me on an escape attempt.)

As soon as we were out of view of the other prisoners, Tjard grabbed one of the torches from the sconce in the wall. “Come,” he looped his arm beneath my shoulder. “We’re almost there.”

“Almost where?” A strange voice rasped.

Tjard spun around. I kept my head bent down, trying to appear a willing prisoner. I didn’t need to turn around to know who was speaking. I recognized Barba’s harsh tone.

“The Lord’s Scharfrichter requests this man to be brought to his presence immediately,” said Tjard, his voice brisk. “You are delaying me from my duty, löwe.”

Barba folded his arms. “Is that so? Funny, I have just this moment come from the Damon’s chambers, and he mentioned no such request to me.”

Fuck.
OK, we were screwed. I hoped Tjard had easy access to his sword.

“Do you presume that Damon of Donau-Ries would tell an oaf like you all his secret plans?” Tjard shot back.

“I presume nothing, friend. I am merely relaying my orders, which seem to contradict your own. It would suggest that one of us wasn’t being entirely truthful. Why are you carrying him like that?” Barba asked snidely, as he took a step closer. His hand rested against the hilt of his broadsword. “It seems to me as if you are helping him. And what need do you have for a torch? If you are going up to the castle, you would know it is well lit.”

“I have a condition of the eyes. I see poorly in the gloom.” Inwardly, I cheered at Tjard’s fast thinking. But even though Barba was pretty thick, he was going to see through our poorly executed escape ploy.

And sure enough, Barba drew his sword from its scabbard. “You are no scharfrichter I know,” he hissed. “You are an imposter, and you are helping this man to escape. You will die for your crime.”

He lunged at Tjard. My friend dropped his grip on me to grab for his own sword. I fell heavily, landing on my side, the blow knocking the wind from my lungs. The torch clattered away. While I rolled over on the cold stones, gasping for air, I saw Tjard unsheathe his own sword, bringing the blade up to block Barba’s blow just in time.

The narrow hall limited their movements, especially since both carried two-handed weapons. Tjard brought Barba to the cross, their blades jammed up against each other in a useless tug-of-war. Their faces contorted with effort as they shoved against each other, grappling desperately to win the upper hand. Even in the dim light from the flickering torch that lay some feet down the passage, I could see sweat pouring down Tjard’s face.

I cowered on the ground, watching my friend fight for his life. I tried to get up, but my legs were shaking so badly they couldn’t support me. I was useless.