Rising Fire (11 page)

“Any man might be in danger, Brienne. I have not been home in many months, but the last letter I received spoke of no dangers.” He could not acknowledge the father who had never named him son.

“Why did they kidnap me?”

He let out his breath, trying to figure out how much she knew and how much he could tell her. “I told you strangers were arriving. They most likely saw us together and thought to use that to bring me to them.”

“But why did they not simply send word to you?”

Suddenly he knew the answer, as clear as the blood coursing under his skin—Marcus wanted to see the connection between them. He wanted to force the beast that lingered beneath his skin and his soul out into sight. He wanted to discover if Brienne was his weakness. And he had accomplished his goals. William was a fool, for he'd let them.

“I know not these men or their ways.” He nodded toward the path. “Go back to your village, Brienne. Think not on anything but your family and your usual life. Leave all of this, all these questions be.” He said it softly, but hoped she understood the warning in the words. “Farewell, Brienne.”

“Sir William?” Though her lower lip quivered in a
mutinous fashion so he thought she would argue with him, she simply nodded and then moved quickly along the path, disappearing into the woods. It would take her only a short time to reach her cottage.

He made his way back toward the encampment on the hillside, avoiding several watchmen along the way. On the morrow, he would see Lord Hugh and find out the truth of his nature and his plans against the king.

He knew he must first give some explanation to Roger and Gautier about what they had witnessed. William knew only that he had no words to explain the changes they must have seen, for he had no idea of what had come over him. He must trust his two closest friends to keep this secret, one more among many.

*   *   *

Brienne had witnessed and done more things in this short day than she had in her whole life. William's words of farewell and warnings should have scared her all the way home; instead she had more questions to ask and no one to answer them.

After disobeying Gavin's instructions about not leaving the village and not speaking to the knight, she could not go to him. She would like to speak to her mother about her feelings for William, but she knew that wasn't an option either for the same reason.

Once more, she was alone as she had always been. To fend for herself.

Now, though, so much was happening to her. Her powers were increasing. It took no more than a moment for her to create the fire from nothing in the cave and another moment to dissolve it. Luckily, she'd stood back in a small alcove in the rock when William had crawled back in or he would have seen her there. The
mark on her arm moved constantly now, reminding her that she controlled the flames.

If that was not extraordinary enough, there was the moment when William had become something else, something more than a man. When she had watched him run into the strangers' camp, almost tearing it apart looking for her, he had changed. Taller, impossibly taller and bigger and stronger and faster, he moved with a lethal speed and strength.

The strangest change was the way his skin took on the color of the sky and markings she had never seen before moved across it. The others scrambled out of his path, for they read their deaths in his gaze. He seemed not to know how he'd changed and become . . . a weapon. Though she knew it was impossible, she could swear that his arm and his sword merged into one weapon.

Terrified she would be killed when they took her, fear for her life shifted to fear for those around her as William approached. She did not know what made her intervene; she only knew she could stop him. And she had.

His skin, stretched tight over huge muscles not there before, glowed an icy blue, changing much like her hands did when she brought the fire. His eyes were inhuman slits of glowing molten red-orange. His face retained only a slight resemblance to his own features, while his hair grew longer and more unruly.

As much as she did not want to believe such a thing, she accepted that the same could be said about her own power. How could a person, a human, be surrounded by fire and not be destroyed by it? And if they had these powers, who else and what other powers existed?

Was that his task for the king, then? For the king had
visited here in Yester some time ago, and rumors still whispered that he'd seen Lord Hugh casting spells before he left in a rush, with his retainers trailing behind him.

Brienne found her way to her father's smithy, and she stood by in silence as she watched him work the glowing metal. She looked around the hot, smoky chamber and noticed the number of swords, both finished and waiting to be completed.

“Swords?” she asked quietly. Her father mostly worked on farming tools and blades, repairing swords as they needed to be, but not often.

“Lord Hugh ordered more,” he replied without taking his attention off the fire or the heated metal he pounded with his hammer. “Many more.”

He worked in silence then, Brienne standing near the door watching as he perfected the metal to a killing edge. It was the thing he liked least to create, she knew. Weapons. But he served at Lord Hugh's pleasure.

“Why do you remain here? You are skilled. Any lord would be pleased to have you work for him.” She'd never asked that question before and had not really thought on it. Gavin stepped away from the fire and put his hammer down. Wiping the sweat off his face with the back of his arm, he smiled.

“You, lass. We could have you only if we remained here and served him.” Shocked at this revelation, she faced him across the fire.

“For me? I did not know.”

“Fia could not bear a living child, and it broke her heart. My father, the last blacksmith here, had just passed, so Lord Hugh offered us what we wanted—a
bairn to raise as our own child and a place to live and work.”

“If you stayed?” she asked. At his nod, she shrugged. “But why did he insist that I remain here? I'm only his bastard, not important to—”

Gavin grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her close, stopping her from finishing her words. “Never say that. You are the most important person to me and to your mother and worth whatever the price we paid to have you,” he whispered harshly. Kissing her forehead, he held her to him, and Brienne savored the comfort of it. “And you must mean something to him, too. Otherwise he would have just let you die.”

Brienne pulled back and looked in the face of the man who was the only father she knew. There was more to be told, but from the way he held his jaw and his mouth, she knew he would not say it. He thought to protect her, from the truth or from the coming danger.

“I think he knows what I do.”

For a moment, his expression froze, and she thought he was going to lie to her. Instead, his smile turned sad and he nodded. “I think he knows, Brienne. I think he's known since you began to feel it happening.”

The worst feeling flooded through her then, making her want to weep from despair. Looking at him, she knew.

“You and Mother must leave Yester. Go as soon as you can. Something is coming. You must leave and be safe,” she urged. She could feel the doom approaching faster, and she knew that it would cause many people to perish. “Take James and his parents. Take whoever will listen to you and leave in the night.”

“Hush, lass,” Gavin soothed, wrapping his arms around her once more. “Nothing can change our destiny. Nothing can keep us safe if it is not meant to be. And your mother and I would never leave you.”

“But you must,” she said.

He did not answer then. He did not need to, for she knew her parents would never abandon her.

“Go, now,” Gavin said softly as he released her. “Your mother could use your help with the laundry.”

Brienne wiped the tears from her face and nodded. He picked up his hammer and went about his task without another word. As she left the smithy, she glanced back and had the very strong feeling that she would never watch him work the metal again.

“A
re you ill?”

Brienne smiled and shook her head. “Nay, Mother. I am well.” She walked to the stream and knelt at her mother's side, taking the tunic from her and placing it on the flat rock.

“Then why do you come to help with this? I know 'tis your least favorite chore to do and you avoid it at all costs.”

“Father suggested it.”

Her mother laughed softly but did not say anything. They worked in silence for a short while, stretching the dirty clothing over the rocks, rubbing them with soap, rinsing them and hanging them to dry over branches. After everything that had happened to her this morn, the mundane chores soothed her.

She knew the steps of how to do these things. And for a short time, her life was the one she'd known it to be. It was almost as if she could step back and forget all that she'd seen and heard and learned and be the young woman she'd always been.

“Look at me, Brienne,” her mother said. Lifting her
head up from her task, she smiled at the woman who'd raised her. “You are different somehow, I think.” Only the shiny glimmer in her mother's gaze told her she was teasing.

“Different?” she asked, sitting back on her heels. “How am I different?”

Her mother studied her face and her form and then met her gaze. “You have the look of a woman who has been well kissed!”

Brienne could not stop herself from touching her mouth then, remembering all at once the sensations that had poured through her when William had kissed, caressed, and touched her. She'd never felt anything so wondrous, and she was caught in the web he wove around her with his hands and his mouth.

“Mother!” she said. “I have not—”

“Hush now, Brienne,” her mother said, taking hold of her hands. “James has our permission to court you, and a few kisses are to be expected. What man would not try to steal a few from the woman he wants to marry?”

In the sensual onslaught caused by William, she had forgotten that kiss from James. It was nice, but would never come close to the heady, intense power of William's.

William had urged her to return to her life and to forget about him, but how could she stop her body from remembering the passion in his touch or her desire for more? How could she consider becoming another man's wife?

“From the expression on your face, daughter,” her mother began with a knowing look on her own face, “you are not thinking on young James's kiss or his proposal.”
She let out a sigh and touched Brienne's cheek. “Your father thinks you have been spending time with the strangers you encountered on their way here to Yester. A knight named William?”

“You know about them?” she asked. Her father had promised not to tell her.

“Your father and I keep no secrets from each other, Brienne. He worried about the attractive, young knight who seemed interested in our daughter. You cannot expect that he would not tell me of such matters and ask my counsel in how to best protect our daughter.”

Her mother stood and walked over to a shady place among the trees, away from the other women who also washed there by the stream, waving her over. Brienne followed and sat at her mother's side. Her mother turned her and began to untangle and then make a new braid in her hair.

“It must seem exciting to have someone new, someone from outside the village, pay attention to you. And when that someone is a handsome, strong, young knight, it is difficult to keep things in order.” Her mother's hands rested for a moment and then began anew, weaving the long plaits together in one braid. “Whatever brings him to Yester will also take him away. And your place will remain here. The excitement of the moment cannot replace a lifetime of commitment.”

“Mother, there are things . . . ”

“Hush now and pay me heed. He will leave. You will stay. And you will bear the cost if you allow him what you should not.” She tied the bottom off with a strip of leather and patted her shoulders. “Sometimes we have no choice. I suspect the woman who birthed
you had none. But do not allow the excitement and interest of such a man to spin your head until you make bad choices.”

Her mother had never once referred to Brienne's parentage. She had never brought up the subject of Lord Hugh willingly.

“Men of power use and cast aside, whether that be women or tools or playthings they no longer want. Remember that, Brienne. Men of power use.”

“Mother, I—”

“It is just a little advice for you, love,” her mother said, standing behind her. “Now, let's carry the washing back to the cottage.”

With nothing else to say, Brienne followed along, helping through the rest of the day but not without noticing the glances that her parents shared.

It was only in the dark of the night that Brienne allowed herself to relive those few moments of fearless passion. She knew she should have refused him and rebuffed his advances. She should have at least attempted to push him away.

She had not. Instead she'd allowed him to touch her and to kiss her and to hold her. Brienne knew there would be nothing between them, and no amount of hoping would make it different. Yet those few stolen moments of passion would be in her memory forever. If she had to give him up, if whatever was coming parted them, at least she had those memories to enjoy.

As she lay on her pallet on the night of the most strange and incredible day of her life, Brienne wondered at the path her life would take. Would all of this pass when William completed his task and left? Or would the growing danger she could sense rise up and
claim them all? Though the door and window shutters were closed, a chill wind passed through the cottage, sending shivers of dread through her.

Danger. Danger was close and getting closer.

Brienne just never expected it to arrive so quietly at her door the next morning.

*   *   *

William sat near the fire, watching Roger and Gautier trying to accept all that he had shared. They'd seen him transform into something else when Brienne was threatened. They'd seen his arm become a weapon and yet still be part of him. And they both had told him how his body grew and turned blue, like ice, as he went on the attack.

“Berserker
,
” Gautier had whispered afterward.

They'd all grown up hearing the legends of old, especially since their Norman ancestors began as Norsemen in the Viking north before moving to France's warmer shores. Berserkers were humans, taken over by the power of the god of war. They fought without thought or concern, often continuing to fight even when they had grave injuries. Some whispered that old priests gave warriors a nectar to make them change into these battlefield giants.

But William had taken no nectar or concoction. He did not believe in the old gods, be they Norse or the ones that Marcus claimed as his, the older Celtic ones. He was a warrior and not a berserker. And yet he did not remember anything that happened from the time he heard Brienne's voice in his head, screaming his name, until she said his name in Marcus's camp.

William drank more of the wine and waited for his friends to give their answer. He must move in the
morning and wished to have them at his back. But after this morning and what they claimed they'd seen, he did not know that they would be there.

“Will you change again?” Roger asked, drinking the last of his wine down in one mouthful. “Into . . . whatever you were?”

“I know not,” he answered truthfully. “I know not how it happened, nor what happened.”

“She caused it,” Gautier said, nodding at both of them.

“Do not blame Brienne.”

“I am not placing blame, Will. I think you changed because you knew she was in danger. The old berserkers needed the call of battle to enrage them. You, well, it looks like all you need is her.”

William could not argue with him. He knew that both times he'd felt some change come over him had involved her. The first time, when he'd watched her and the young man from the forest. This second time when she'd called out to him somehow. Both times she'd needed to be protected. Both times he'd needed to protect and claim her. And each time the change pushed him further than the last. How far would it go?

“What did the old man tell you? When you spoke?” Gautier asked.

“He . . .” William looked at each of them and leaned in closer so no one would hear their words. “He said they worship the old gods and that there is a war coming between good and evil. And they want me to lead them.”

The silence was heavy and foreboding as it settled around them. It sounded even more foolish and
maniacal when spoken aloud like that. How could a sane man believe any of it?

“She, the girl with the strange gaze, knew about your father,” Roger said. “Your true father, the king. I know that was whom she referred to being in danger. Do you think it's true?”

“Do not speak of such things!” he warned. “I would not jeopardize what little chance I have by exposing it.”

“Will.” Gautier shook his head, then glanced over to the gathering of men near the tents and back at him. “It is the worst-kept secret at court. Those over there who know not the truth suspect it. Your mother was not the most discreet woman among the king's . . . favorites.”

“You did not answer me, friend,” Roger said. “Is the king in some kind of danger from this?” He motioned with his hand in the direction of Hugh's castle.

William had thought on that all day, while watching Brienne return to her village and while finalizing his plans. And he knew the truth of it—if the king suspected Hugh of some duplicity, it would not be difficult to imagine that Hugh knew of his suspicions. And if treason was in the air, the king
was
in grave danger.

“Aye, he is.”

“So no matter if we understand everything at hand or if we simply carry out the orders the king gave you, his safety is part of this?” Roger clarified.

“Aye,” he said, nodding at them.

Roger stood and dusted off his legs. “Then we have no choice but to carry out his orders and find out the heart of the matter. My mother's mother used to tell stories about the old gods, but I know not whether they exist. It matters not. The king's safety is the only thing.”

When he said it that way, William's path became clear—meet Hugh, seek out his plans, and report back to the king. William stood and shook hands with both of them. A huge weight seemed to disappear from his body and soul now that he knew his friends would guard his back and be by his side in whatever happened.

“When do we go?” Gautier asked as he stood.

“I think midday. Four of us with the others at the ready.”

“Will he invite us in?” Roger asked.

“I come from the king. Not offering us hospitality would be an insult. So, aye, I think he will. If for nothing else than to discover our reasons for being here.”

“Do you think he knows we are here?”

William thought on the sight of Lord Hugh below in the valley, staring up at him and laughing. “Aye, he knows. Any man who controls his lands as Hugh does knows every time a stranger steps across the lines of his property. He knows.”

“I will post extra guards,” Gautier said as they walked to their tent. “And I think it should be Armand who comes with us.”

Armand was the best fighter after William, even better in battle than Roger, Gautier, or Herve. He was better at seeing patterns in dangerous situations than Roger and able to use his head as well as his sword. “Very well. Tell him on the morrow.”

The camp settled down for the night and a chill wind ripped through the tents, making some of the men shiver aloud. William felt it, and he needed no priest of the old gods or the one true God to tell him what his battle-ready gut could explain quite simply from experience—it was a harbinger of danger.

Even with so many unknown people and possibilities facing them, William slept well that night, as he always did before going into battle. His dreams did not show him battle plans though. Instead visions of a lass with black hair and amber eyes teased him through the long night. And the taste of her mouth, the feel of her soft flesh in his hands and against his body felt so real, he woke with his own flesh hard and ready to pleasure her.

Unfortunately, she was not to be his. And never could be.

As he rose and began to prepare to ride into Yester, he prayed that she was safe in the village and would stay out of his dealings with her lord. And he hoped that Gavin would keep her safe.