Queen of Jastain (7 page)

After more trekking in the valley, she struggled up an embankment where he stood waiting. The mountain pass spanned between two ranges. Filled with many trees, some of them so tall the tops were invisible, the valley received the flow of a rivulet that ran as far to the east as she could see.

“Our shelter is a natural cave around the other side of this mountain and on this side of the river. We can make camp, and I'll catch something for us to eat.”

Hopefully not something small and furry.

“Probably fish.”

“Fish is good.”
In some respects, she liked that she could now communicate without looking him in the eye. In others, not so much.

Nestled into the mountainside, the deep inlet was elevated on a landing just above the stream. Neither of them could stand to full height in it, but the cave was tall enough to sit and long enough to sleep. Cool and damp, it smelled earthy, reminding her of raw mushrooms. The sound of the rushing water and gusty breeze echoed against the rock. She placed her bag down on the hard stone floor. A booming clap of thunder made her jump.

The rain was almost here.

Avant dropped his pack and left the cave to presumably gather firewood. She followed him up a steep path to a landing with trees above. They quickly gathered enough wood and hauled it to the camp.

He kindled a fire.
“Abigail, you may want to relieve yourself before the rain sets in.”

Oh, he was right about that. Peeing outside during a downpour was not something she cared to experience.

She headed up the path to the trees where they'd gathered the wood. Large drops began to fall and made soft noises as they hit the ground littered with pine needles. She squatted beside a tree. The snap of a twig startled her, and a man emerged a short distance away. The breath froze in her lungs. Dirty and gruff with a beard and animal fur around his neck, he stood maybe six feet tall but had a round belly and wild eyes. As soon as she noticed him, he started toward her. Her heart skipped a beat, and she didn’t need time to determine he meant to harm her. Jumping up in mid-stream, she ran for the trail to the cave, pulling up her panties as she went.

Avant stoked the fire then rubbed the back of his neck. Trepidation placed a weight in his mind. Why should he be so concerned? He had little to hide. Still, to think that someone would know every part of him sent a shiver down his spine. There were few who'd ever understood him and fewer still who knew him. In a few days, this young woman would hold every personal and intimate detail. His stomach knotted. It seemed many of his body parts knotted at the thought of her and proved their treachery by drawing near at every chance. He jabbed hard at the fire, sending embers flying into the air. For the Light's sake, he'd almost kissed the woman.

He bit his lip remembering her soft flesh molded against his and her sweet smell entrancing him. It had taken substantial strength of will to pull away.

What was this hold she had over him? He could not remember a time when his body fought him so discordantly. He sighed out a heavy breath and smiled at the remembrance of her face when he'd told her he heard her thoughts.

My Light, Seppitent had nearly planted his seed and all could have been lost. Until they reached the northern valley, they would not be safe from the evil that crept over the land. He must take care in the wild.

Turning from the fire, he grabbed a line and hook. He’d promised the lady fish for dinner, so he better be about it before the rain—

“Avant!”
Out loud and in his mind, Abigail’s scream pierced through the silence of his thoughts.

Dropping the fishing line, he bolted up the trail in four strides.

A man hooked one filthy arm around her neck while the other arm forced his vile body against her from behind. Avant's blood boiled, and his pulse pounded in his head.

The rain poured in a torrent.

Avant unsheathed his sword and grasped it with both hands in front of his body. He shouted, “Halt or I will kill you!”

The man’s head jerked up. Using the sudden distraction, Abigail stomped on the reprobate's foot, shoved her elbow into his ribs, and wrenched away. She scampered toward him, and Avant moved to position himself between her and the man who stood six paces from him.

He glowered at the beast, who blanched and said, “Commander Avant?”

The derelict's face became visible and recognition coursed through Avant's mind. His body stiffened. “Yes, I live. Does that surprise you, Retalis? Considering our last encounter, I see how it might.”

The memory of an arrow lodged in his chest and a large gaping wound in his gut flooded his mind. The sound of his men retreating and leaving him in the enemy camp was the harshest sound he'd ever heard. His chest tightened.

“Commander, I had nothing to do with it.”

“Indeed? And what are you doing attacking innocents? Your alliance with the Darkness has deteriorated your heart. From the looks of you, you have wandered these woods alone many days. Were you so base as to be expelled from the king’s guard?”

“You know nothing of me or what I've suffered. I'll kill you.”

He chuckled. “Kill me, the man who trained you and saved your life? You've already failed once in that endeavor. I know full well you have neither the courage nor the skill to kill me. What’s more, you know it.”

“Perhaps not, Commander, but what I do know is the king would be interested to hear of your survival. I am certain the queen will wish to hear of it.”

At these last words, Avant squared his shoulders and stood tall, pointing his sword at the man’s chest. “If you value your life, you will leave these woods. Tomorrow my forces in the Freelands will canvas this forest with orders to kill any renegade soldier or spy.”

“
You
are Lord Ventium?” The man’s face lost all color.

Avant gained purchase in the degenerate’s mind with his Gift. He did not speak nor did he release the man from his gaze. He forced his will into the tormented mind.

Retalis raised his hands to his skull and screamed. “Stop. Stop with your witchery!” With his palms lifted in surrender, he backed into the trees and disappeared.

Avant felt as if someone sat on his chest. He sucked in a labored breath and lowered his sword. Immediately turning his attention to Abigail, he looked into her frightened face. Compassion poured over him like the rain, and his hand reached out to her.
“Are you all right, Abigail?”

She stared back, her eyes glazed. Her thoughts swirled in a frenzy of emotion and poured from her like an overflowing washtub.
“My father is dead. My best friend and my boyfriend have betrayed me. I've been ripped, suddenly and without explanation, from my home and sent to a place I have never heard of, with no idea how to get back. I haven’t slept or really eaten in three days, have been charmed by a witch-creature, almost raped by your hobo mountain friend while peeing outside with no toilet paper, and everything I think and feel is open to public display. I’m soaking wet and now so are my shoes, and I stink! No, I would not say that I am in any way all right!”
She began to sob and shake, tremors racking her body.

He put his arm around her and led her back to the cave, where the fire blazed. Shivering so hard, she seemed unable to stop her teeth from chattering. She couldn’t cease crying. Avant took an extra tunic and wool cloak from his pack and handed them to her. He turned his back and sat near the fire while she changed.

After removing his own rain-soaked shirt, he laid it out to dry.

Still trembling, Abigail laid out her wet clothes and sat down next to him. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. She leaned her head on his chest and a sweet warmth, like honey over hot bread, slowly covered him at her nearness.

“Abigail, you have lost much, but you also have much for which to be thankful. You now have me, and I am a steadfast and faithful friend. Even if you do not know it yet, you are strong and powerful, with a Gift that can effect immense change in whatever world you find yourself.”

She never acknowledged his words, but her shudders subsided, and her teeth stopped chattering. Her body melted in his arms, and the strawberry scent of her hair filled his senses. Soft tears tickled as they fell onto his bare skin and slid down. She nestled into him and laid her hand on his chest. With that one small gesture, Avant, for the first time in many years, felt as if he were home. She fell asleep in his arms and left him to ponder just who comforted whom.

He tightened his grip and rested his chin on the top of her head as the exchange with Retalis replayed in his mind. The man had not been in the service of Aesdil for some time by the debauched look of him, and certainly his actions told of the corruption inside. Seppitent’s work, no doubt.

But the thing that played over in Avant’s mind was the mention of the queen. Would Sentieve even want him back after all these years? His anger at the king surged, and his muscles tensed. Abigail stirred. He forced his body to relax. Nuzzling his nose deep in her hair, he breathed in her soothing scent and she stilled.

The king would pay for his evil deeds, and he would reunite with the woman who'd been his wife.

Annova’s prophecy came to him:
You must trust your own Gift, Avant. It will lead you in the right path, although I see the path is not what you now think it to be.
The path would not be what he thought? When he had prepared to receive the Chosen One, he certainly had not expected the young lady in his arms, but the Word of Light had to mean more than that. He stared out of the mouth of the cave, seeking an answer, but there was only rain.

Doubting Retalis’ threat to inform the king of him, Avant became more concerned with the men who had crossed their path in the Valley. The king had gotten bolder, seeking information from spies. Avant snorted. Aesdil, though not a fighter, was a strategist. He, of course, would know the growing numbers of Lord Ventium’s troops, but Retalis confirmed that the king did not know Lord Ventium’s identity. It was only a matter of time, however. This made the training of the Chosen One a priority of the utmost urgency.

The volatile timeframe loomed before him. He would have to Implant his thoughts into her as soon as possible. Closing his eyes, he shook his head, sickened by the thought. Could he trust her? Glancing down at the slight body of the sleeping girl, his heart leapt within him. An even more frightening question came to him. Could he trust himself?

(Matthew 22:14)  For many are called, but few chosen.

Abigail yelled, but her voice was swallowed in the darkness. She reached out to feel her surroundings, but emptiness greeted her fingertips in the blackness.

A white light shone from behind her. She spun to find the source, but the beam followed the movement of her head. Everywhere she looked, the light was already there, turning with her.

Her eyes adjusted. With the beam in front of her, the smaller independent shadows that made up the nothingness ran to get out of its way. The fear that gripped her ebbed. Though it was the smallest glint of illumination, the darkness could not extinguish the bright shaft of hope.

Two other lights, deep blue in color, appeared. Added to the power of her light, they revealed more of the room. The shadows moved restlessly inside the darkness to keep from being touched by the glowing beacons.

Four more lights appeared, two in green and two in red, almost fully illuminating the room. The shadows retreated to the far walls. Dark paneled wood and furniture of fine quality held an air of familiarity, but she still couldn’t tell exactly where she was.

Finally, two purple lights blazed, and all the shadows evaporated. In full illumination, four people stood with their bright lights shining though their faces were hidden.

A familiar voice spoke, but it wasn’t from any of the light-bearers. “Chosen One, seek the Way in the land of your father’s father, and there will you learn how to return My Light to the kingdom.”

* * * *

Abby woke early. The storm had passed, but dawn hadn't broken. Her head rested against her bag near the fire. She pushed up from the stone floor and scanned the cave. A strange dream still played in her mind. Warmth from the coals blanketed her, though the fire had all but gone out. Avant slept nearby.

His protection and kindness of the previous evening came rushing back. How long had he held her after she’d fallen asleep? This man couldn’t be real. She must be in a fairytale. He really was...a valiant knight. She studied the face of her savior and resisted the urge to push a wisp of hair from his peaceful face. Avant was so different from the guys she knew.

The guys back home were always looking for something more or better. They had no chivalry, no honor. Abby had loved Chad because he seemed removed from them. She'd trusted him. A sob stuck in her throat, and she stifled it. The thought of Chad made her head hurt.

She stood and stretched her arms over her head. Her body, though sore, surged with renewed strength from sleep. Avant’s soft cotton shirt and wool cloak hung on her like an oversized hospital gown. The ecru tunic glistened in the glow of the coals. Intricate dark chocolate and gold embroidery decorated the edges of the v-neck, and the loose-cuff sleeves were too long for her arms. Lifting the sleeve to her nose, she breathed in the scent of fresh cedar and pine with a hint of musk. Out of nowhere, a vision of Avant tenderly kissing her flooded her mind.

Caught breathless, she gasped. The warmth and softness of her own lips kissed him, and her hair fell soft and silky in his hand. Slow and sensuous, the kiss deepened and went on and on. Finally pulling away, he looked into her blue-green eyes, and a plunging current of passion swept over her.

A heavy sigh from Avant slammed her back to reality, and the vision vanished. She bit down hard on her knuckle.
Please, don’t wake up. Please don’t wake up.