Coven: a dark medieval paranormal romance (Witches of the Woods Book 2) (19 page)

Maybe not entirely useless. I kicked out with my legs, channelling all my rage and force behind the blow. The edge of my bare foot connected with Barba’s knee. His leg collapsed sideways, bringing him down like a sock of rocks. As he fell, he scraped the side of his face along the edge of his own sword, leaving a long gash across his cheek and forehead. By the look of the blood, he’d also sliced open his eye.

Barba screamed incoherently, clutching his face with his hands as he writhed on the floor. His leg bent out at an odd angle. Tjard made to deal a killing blow, but I stopped his hand. “Let him suffer,” I said. “My father’s wrath when he hears of my escape will be worse than any death we can give him.” Tjard sheathed his sword.

“Grab his weapon,” I hissed.

Tjard bent down and pulled the belt from around the man’s waist. He grabbed me under my shoulders and helped me to my feet, steadying me while I tied the belt around my own waist, relishing the familiar weight of a sword against my body. He picked up the torch in his free hand and we hobbled as fast as we could to the storage room at the end of the dark hall, and crawled into the tunnel.

Tjard’s torch lit the way down the passage. We scrambled along as quickly as we could, which wasn’t quick at all, because my legs still felt as if they were made of meat jelly.

Once outside, he led me to a cart he’d parked nearby. Willow and Sycamore were at the traces, Willow stomped her foot and snorted when she saw me. Tears sprung in the corners of my eyes to see that beautiful creature again. But there was no time for sentiment. Tjard pulled off his black robes and dressed in the attire of a trader. He then bundled me into the cart and covered my body with blankets and sacks. From the castle, I heard the horns blowing, signalling the guard to assemble. They were coming for us.

“Where are we going?” Tjard called to me as he pulled away from the curb. I heard the thud of soldier’s feet as they rushed down the street in front of us.

“We have to go back to Maerwynn’s coven.” I said. “We have to get there before my father does.”

I
lost
count of the days I lay in my cabin, gazing up at the ceiling, neither seeing nor registering anything in the living world. My mind resided only with Ulrich and the world we had created together. If I focused hard enough, I could conjure a vision of him that felt so achingly real my fingers reached out to touch his skin. He lay over me, his strong shoulders framing my wasting figure, his eyes boring into mine.

My aunts flitted in and out of the room, taking in turns to watch over me worriedly (Aubrey) and scowl at me disapprovingly (Bernadine). Maerwynn did not visit. I had a feeling from the way Aubrey’s shoulders hunched that they had had some kind of disagreement.

One day, my eyes fluttered open from one of my Ulrich dreams, and I found all three of them around my cot. Bernadine threw the fur off my stomach. “Get up.” She said. “You have mourned, and now it is time to move on. You are to go to the village.”

I stared at her blankly, not even having the strength to argue. Surely she could see I was in no state to go a-wooing?

“I can’t go. What about Aubrey?”

“Her man has gone to Stuttgart to sell his wares.” Bernadine said. “She does not wish to sleep with another. I am in no state to take on the burden, but I have done my share over the years. It is your turn.”

“But—” the idea of even touching another man made me feel sick.

“Ulrich is gone, you saw it yourself,” Bernadine snapped. “We did warn you against using scrying, but you disobeyed us. So you cannot now throw back what you saw in our faces.”

“You didn’t warn me!” I cried, feeling panicked. “You refused to tell me anything! I asked you if there was a spell I could use to see Ulrich, and you knew there was but you refused to even discuss it. At least Maerwynn isn’t wants me to learn about the craft.”

“Yes, and where did your learning get you?” Bernadine retorted. “If you had heeded our warnings, you might not be heartbroken right now.”

“You never warned me!” Suddenly, my humours shifted. Out of my hopelessness came a fiery anger. The tears that streaked my face now were not those of forlorn love, but hot, salty drops of rage. If I could not have Ulrich, then I would have revenge on those who took him from me. I would find them and I would tear them limb from limb.

“Ada, stop this.”

I whirled around, the rage still burning in my veins. Maerwynn stood in the door of my cabin, her white shift flapping around her lean legs.

“I am sorry for your loss, but your aunts are right. You cannot dwell on this misfortune. There is too much work to be done, and with Ulrich gone, we have lost a powerful ally. I need every witch in the coven to do her part, and this is yours.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, my body wracked with grief. “But—”

Aunt Aubrey squeezed my hand. “It is too much to ask,” she said. “I will go again. There were many more men who visited the public house who would find me to their taste.”

“It is too risky,” Maerwynn said. “You have already been seen in that village with the hunter. If you then return and seek out another, you will raise suspicions.”

“I’ll wear my glamour.”

“I will not have it. No, Ada must go.”

Aubrey turned to me, using her soft finger to wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. “Do not listen to them,” she said. “If you do not want to go, then you do not have to. I will find a way.”

For the first time, I looked into my aunt’s eyes, and what I saw there made me recoil in horror. Aunt Aubrey was sad. Her eyes were a mirror to my own emptiness. She could not bear the shame, the debasement, of showing herself at a common tavern, throwing herself at men, begging for sex. She had only recently lost a man she cared about, and now she had another, and I would force her to betray him.

She has always been so kind to me, and here I am forcing her to do this horrid thing just to keep her powers. She will do it, too. Not for enjoyment, as she did with Andreas back at the village before the plague took him, or with her hunter friend now, but in a selfless quest to save our powers. Bernadine would never be so selfless. Am I any better than her, forcing Aubrey to take men against her will?

Sucking in a breath, I shook my head. “Maerwynn is right. I am our best hope. Ulrich is gone, and remaining chaste will not bring him back. I will go to the village.”

The words were the right ones, but every one of them felt like a knife twisting in my gut. The thought of another man touching me, kissing me, pushing his cock inside of me, made my skin crawl. But, I had made a promise to myself that I would get revenge on those who had killed Ulrich, and I would be ill-equipped to make good that promise if I no longer had my powers. And, I could not let my Aunt Aubrey suffer another indignity. She had already suffered so much. I was already suffering, so what did it mean to me?

And so, I agreed to go to the village.

For the first time in days, I got out of bed, washed myself and put on clean garments. Maerwynn packed up some provisions for me and outfitted one of the coven’s smaller horses. My aunts could never afford a horse, so I’d never ridden one before, save briefly for Ulrich’s enormous black steed, but even then he had full control. The horse – a tiny chestnut-coloured mare named Cloud – snorted at me as soon as I walked near, and kicked out its back leg. I yelped, and cowered at the edge of the clearing. How was I ever going to
ride
that?

“You can’t ride it from in the bushes,” Maerwynn said, her usual serious expression twisted into a grin. She grabbed the horse’s bridle and led him over to me. “Come, I shall show you what to do.”

Cloud stood somewhat still while Maerwynn cupped her hands to form a step. I gripped Cloud’s mane and after a few unsuccessful tries, managed to swing myself up. Maerwynn showed me how to use my feet and the reins to control Cloud’s speed and direction, and how to control the horse in the village, so it looked as if I belonged there.

“How’s this?” I asked as I trotted past her. Cloud took that exact moment to stop short, and bend down to nibble at a patch of wildflowers. I had to wrap my arms around her neck to avoid sliding off.

“You’re a natural.” said Maerwynn, the corners of her mouth twitching.

I didn’t have time to learn how to cast a glamour, so we decided to do it the old fashioned way. Ryia coloured my hair with dye made from berries, so it became a strange, dirty red. Maerwynn gave me some drab grey clothes and a basket to pottery. “If anyone asks you your business, say that you’re here to sell these,” she said.

While I fed Cloud a carrot (I’m not certain what good deed she’d done to deserve the treat, since she obviously wasn’t scared of me), Maerwynn explained to me the layout of the town, and where I might find the beer hall and the town hall, the places most likely to be filled with suitors.

“You are lucky,” she said. “For tomorrow night there is a festival in the village to celebrate the final days of winter. Many will be drinking in the streets and at the tavern, and it will be the ideal chance for you to fulfil your task.”

“Lucky is exactly how I feel,” I replied, my voice hollow.

“I know this is hard,” Maerwynn said. “But we must do many things in life that are hard. You will be stronger for it.”

I set off toward the village, trotting at an uneven pace through the forest. Every few feet Cloud would stop to eat the grass or wildflowers that were just starting to poke through the melting snow, and I had to constantly yank on the reins to get her back on the path again. Finally, after what seemed like hours, we met the road. As I followed it toward the village, I came upon several other travellers, some on foot, others in carts laden down with barrels of drink and sacks of food for the feast. We called out friendly “hullos” to each other. I squared my shoulders back and sat tall. I was beginning to feel a thrill as I realized I was getting away with this dangerous trip. No one had recognized me. Perhaps news of the escaped witches with the reward on their heads hadn’t yet reached this remote village.

I was relieved to see no pyres of plague victims as I approached the village wall. The gates had been thrown open, and I entered the village without any fuss. It was the best time of day for trade and many people milled around in the streets, exchanging news with their neighbours and bartering the last of their winter crops and stores. A bustling market was set up around the square, and I found myself in the middle of it. I paid a silver piece to tie up Cloud behind the beer hall, picked up my basket, and jostled my way through the crowd. Men and women shoved their wares under my nose, offering to sell me baskets and knives and rosary beads and charms to protect against the plague. My stomach rumbled as I passed by the pie sellers and sausage stalls, and I purchased a meat-filled bread pocket, which I devoured quickly. I needed all my strength for what I had to do.

I wandered back over toward the beer hall. A few traders were gathered around the low wooden tables, loudly discussing the plague driving prices up in Stuttgart and the crop problems and the witch trials. Many of the conversations were hushed and serious, but I heard a few groups laughing jovially. My stomach churned. Suddenly, that bread didn’t seem like such a good idea.
What am I doing here? I don’t know how to do this. I don’t want to sleep with any of these men. I want Ulrich.

Ulrich is dead,
I told myself, firmly.
And you can do this. You watched Rebekah do it hundreds of times. All you have to do is sit down with them, and the rest will follow naturally.

My mind went back to the last time I was in this position, when I had to find a man to sleep with in my own village. First, I had tried Simon, a quiet boy who turned out to have other tastes, and then it was Waltraud, the brawny blacksmith’s son who had turned me in for a witch. I remembered how nervous I’d felt approaching each of them, and how I’d faltered when Waltraud laid his hands on me. I couldn’t be like that this time. My fury would be my resolve. I had to take revenge on those who took Ulrich from me, and my plan relied on me retaining my power.

Determined now, I walked up to a spare space at the bar and leaned against it, drumming my hands on the surface and glancing up at the door, trying to appear as if I were waiting for someone. I didn’t have enough coin left to buy a drink. Maerwynn said I wouldn’t need it. I left enough space either side of me for someone to approach me. I just hoped it wasn’t the bartender, as he would be very disappointed in my request for water.

Sure enough, it wasn’t long before I detected a presence at my side. I turned around and came face to face with a man some ten years my senior. He looked like a farmer, with a ruddy face, simple clothes and dark stubble across his chin. He was no Ulrich, but he looked pleasant enough, and his eyes were kind.
I can do this,
I told myself.
Remember, it’s not for you, it is for Aunt Aubrey. Her man is still alive.

“Greetings, Miss. Are you from Amorbach?” he asked me, his mouth turning up at the sides. He was attractive enough, and his eyes appeared kind. It took me several moments before I realized he was expecting an answer.

“Pardon?”

“Amorbach? The next town over.” He gestured across the crowded square. “I haven’t seen you around before, and with lots of new folk in for the festival, I just assumed …”

“I’m from Ulm,” I said, naming one of the large villages some miles away. “I’m just stopping here on my way to Rotstrom for the assizes. I have a brother who is being charged, and I wish to see the outcome of his trial.”

“A noble cause,” the man winked at me. “Although probably a fruitless one. From what I have heard of the trails there, the scharfrichters have been ruthless. Not a single defendant has escaped with his or her life. Are you sure that is such a place for a lady as fine as yourself? The roads are treacherous, there are highwaymen about, as well as the risk of plague. Have you heard Stuttgart is badly afflicted?”

“I have, but don’t fear for me. I can handle myself on the road.” I grinned back at him, certain that my story had been believed. It was the perfect cover, for before nightfall the tavern would be aflutter about the mystery woman with the criminal brother.

“Do you … are you … I mean to say …” I realized suddenly that I had no idea how to have a conversation with this man.

“You wish for my name?” He inquired, smiling gently.

“I do, good sir.”

“Ah, but if I give you my name, then you must give me yours, and since we both know the name you give me will not be your real one, we should simply avoid the pretence altogether, do you think?”

“Certainly. I am Krea.” Ulrich’s sister’s name. It was the first that had popped into my head.

“Pleasure to be acquainted with you, Krea.” He snapped his fingers. The bartender appeared and poured us both a draught of beer. I leaned back and gulped down the brackish liquid, grateful for the way it burned my throat. Let the oblivion of alcohol take away the memory of this night.

I found out that my companion’s name was Frederick, and he was a trader in spices. He had just come from Stuttgart, where he sold his spices into the castle and the larger estates in the area. He’d found the takings there poor. “Despite the great number of scharfrichters there, the city itself is deserted. I can charge a premium, but no one is buying. Many of the noble families have moved elsewhere because of the plague threat. Everyone is more interested in death and maiming than a great meal.” He had no family nearby, and no friends in the village, which was further afield from his usual route. “Unfortunately, the plague has wiped out so many people I have to travel this far just to make my sales. People do not need spices as much as they need prayers and charms.”

Frederick bought me another drink, and I downed that one, too. The alcohol buzzed between my ears, and I felt bold. Frederick seemed kind and honest. I touched his arm, and gave him the smile that was to be my signal. “Do you have rooms in the village that we might retire to?” I asked him, batting my eyelids the way Brunhild used to do when she wanted something.

He cleared his throat, looking suddenly uncomfortable. “Please, good lady. Let us not continue this charade further. I have not sold my quota in this city, and I have no money for your services. I’ve enjoyed your company immensely, but our acquaintance must end here.”