Soul Magic (10 page)

Geoffrey dipped his head.  But not before Darrick saw the flash of bitterness in his old friend’s eyes. 

“You are correct.  Forgive me.” 

Regret stabbed him.  “Done.”  Darrick summoned a smile.  “You have fought by my side a long time.  Do not let such a small thing as this tiny woman divide us.”

Slowly, Geoffrey raised his head.  “Small?  Alanna? I think not.  I worry greatly for your mortal soul.”

Darrick chuckled.  “Don’t.  You are neither priest nor monk.  Be a warrior, as before, as always.  This road we follow may prove long and dangerous.”

“I am still your friend.  I cannot help but question some of your actions.”  Geoffrey glanced at Alanna as he spoke.  Watching him, Darrick followed suit.  Together with Sarina, she stood near the grave his men were digging, conferring with bent heads and lowered voices.  Despite her recent ordeal, she still looked fresh and lovely enough to make his chest tighten. 

Not good.  With an effort, Darrick dragged his gaze back to Geoffrey and his frowns.

“See?”

Darrick didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t know what Geoffrey meant.  “She is a beautiful woman, and we have been a long time without female companionship.”  He shrugged, casting another sidelong look at the two women.  “For that matter, I have noticed the way you watch Sarina.  There is a soothing balm to be found in such loveliness.”

“Bah,” Geoffrey spat, though his complexion went ruddy.  “`Tis not appreciation, but lust.  A sin of the flesh and one that I now strive daily to withstand.”

Pity for his companion suffused him.  “`Tis not to late to study for the priesthood, my friend.”

“And I may.”  Anger burned in Geoffrey’s eyes.  “When this is over, if I live through it. Would that I had years ago, instead of learning how to fight.”

“We cannot change the past.”  Darrick repeated.  This was counsel he’d do well to heed before bitterness over the events Morfran’s perfidy had set in motion consumed him.

The men finished digging the grave.  One gave a shout, and Darrick turned and went to him, not waiting to see if Geoffrey followed. 

All fell silent as they lowered Bart into the ground.

Even Sarina bent her head when Geoffrey spoke a short prayer. 

As soon as the final shovel of dirt had been thrown over the grave, Alanna walked over to stand beside Darrick.

Her eyes were haunted.  “I fear for my son.”

He could not keep from touching her.  A small touch, light on her slender shoulder.  He let his hand linger a moment, ignoring the way her posture stiffened.  “We will ride out shortly.”

“How far is this other place?”

“A day’s ride.  No more.  We would make it by nightfall if we rode straight through.  But we must rest.  We have fought an arduous battle, then ridden through the night.  We will ride another hour or so, then make camp.  We must rest or we will become easy prey for our enemies.”

He saw she wanted to argue.  But a quick look at his exhausted men and their weary mounts proved him right. 

Under his hand she trembled.  “So help me, if he has harmed one hair on my son’s – or your mother’s - head…”

“Caradoc will be fine.”  The name still tasted like ashes on his tongue.  Darrick cleared his throat and tried again.  “Especially if this Gorsedd believes the boy can bring him power.  I fear for my lady mother.”

Geoffrey came to stand with them.  A moment later, Sarina moved to Geoffrey’s side.  Darrick noticed how his friend tensed, yet seemed unable to resists casting glances at the diminutive, dark-haired woman.

“Are you ready to ride?”  Darrick kept his voice low out of deference to his fallen man.  Geoffrey’s nostrils flared but he inclined his head in a nod.

Turning, Alanna went to her palfrey and mounted with a grace Darrick wouldn’t have thought possible in such flowing skirts.  A moment later Sarina did the same.  Geoffrey stared then, noticing Darrick watching him, colored. 

Without another word, Darrick strode to where his war horse waited patiently.  He swung himself into the saddle and waited until the rest of his men did the same.

“Let’s go.”

In a clatter of hooves they rode out, leaving the cursed keep and its dark secrets behind them.

They made camp with the sunrise.  Darrick posted guards, to change every hour, and he himself took first watch.  Tents were pitched under the wintry morning sky, and most disappeared inside them to get some sleep.

To Darrick’s surprise, Alanna did not.  Instead she chose to keep watch with him.

The dim light of the winter morning exposed the shadows under her worried eyes.

“How far to the next village?”  She cast a sidelong look at him.

Not bothering to hide his frank stare, Darrick shrugged.  “I’m not sure.  I was planning to skirt the villages.  Why?”

“I want to talk to the villagers.  See if anyone has word of my son, or your mother.”

He appreciated her inclusion of Rowena. Especially since he knew the depths of her anxiety over her son. 

“`Tis not a bad idea.  He turned to look at the tents.  “Mayhap you should consider trying to rest, so that you will be better able to concentrate on their answers.”

After a moment’s silence, she flashed a wan, weary smile.  “I will rest when you do.”

“We have one more hour.  Then one of my men will replace me.”

“Geoffrey?”  Though she tried to hide her distaste, she was not entirely successful.  Even after so many years apart, Darrick still knew her nearly as well as he knew himself.

“Perhaps.”  He perused her features, one by one.  “You look exhausted.”

“As do you.”

This, he ignored.  For so long had he functioned on little sleep and food that he’d become inured to hardship. 

With a sound of frustration, she dragged her fingers through her long hair, making him ache with longing.  “Why do you watch me so oddly?”

“Memories.”  He gave her truth, not caring enough about the subtleties of diplomacy to try and lie.  “We have much between us, you and I.”

“
Had
,” she said.  “We
had
much between us, Darrick Tadhg.  All we share now is a quest for the same man.”

Her gentle reminder shouldn’t have brought pain, but to his dismay, it did. 

His next words he knew he’d regret later.  “There is still the unbroken binding of the troth we pledged.”

She did not immediately answer.  The only sound was that of the breeze as it ruffled the tents.  Averting her face, Alanna hunched her shoulders, as though his simple words of truth brought her immeasurable torment.

Familiar with such forceful emotions, Darrick held his tongue.

After a moment, she lifted her face and met his gaze.  “Morfran’s actions rendered such vows impossible.”

“To whom?”  `Twas not an unreasonable question, for she needed to remember there were two involved, rather than only her.

“To me.”  She tossed her head in agitation.  “To both of us.”

He cleared his throat.  “Not to me.” 

Disbelief mingled with pain in her emerald gaze.  “Say you that you would still wed me?”

He gave a sigh.  “Aye.  I could come again to care for you.”  He had begun to realize he had never stopped caring for her, that he’d most likely feel that way until the day he died.

She looked away, the tight line of her lips showing clearly her resolve.  “I care only for Caradoc.  My son is all I want and all I need.”

Though her response stabbed him like a sword, Darrick took great care not to show it. 

“You must know,” his next words he must put carefully, though he knew they had to be said.  He had fought enough battles to know that good didn’t always win.  “There is always a chance we will not be able to regain your son.  Or my mother.”

“No!”  She stiffened, hands fisted as though she meant to strike him.  “We must. We will.  I won’t accept any alternative.  We must find them both and bring them home.”

Again.  “And if we cannot?”

Her shoulders sagged.  With a visible effort she straightened them.  He saw her remember that she was a princess.  A mother first, but a princess of Rune as well.

She sank back to the ground beside him, giving him her back.  “Without Caradoc, I have no reason to live.”

This he could well understand. He’d felt exactly that way on the morning of their wedding day when he’d realized she’d gone.

The rest of their watch passed in silence, broken only by the harsh sound of her breathing.  When one of Darrick’s men staggered into the light to relieve him, Darrick rose and took Alanna’s elbow.   Though she moved stiffly, he helped her up and led her to his tent.

At the entrance she paused.  Sure she was about to protest, his rebuttal died on his lips at the plea he saw in her eyes.

“I do not wish to be alone right now, and my chaperone seems to have disappeared. Stay with me.”

His heart skipped at her words.  Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded. 

“As my friend,” she clarified, crossing to the blankets and furs scattered haphazardly over the ground.  “You are the only friend I have right now among the humans.”

“I’m not certain I like being a last resort.”

She gave him a fleeting smile.  Crawling beneath the furs, she yawned, finally letting down her guard so he could see the tension seep out of her.

“I will rest but a moment.”  With another yawn she closed her eyes.  Sleep took her in less than a heartbeat.  Watching, Darrick found himself wanting, inexplicably, to weep.

Instead, he went to the makeshift bed and lay down next to her, longing to touch her, but daring not.  The force of his wanting shook him, nearly beating back an overwhelming need to sleep.  At last exhaustion won.  Useless contemplation of his futile desires wouldn’t help him.  So Darrick closed his eyes.

Shouts woke him, in what felt as if it couldn’t have been much more than an hour.  Judging from the position of the still-wintry, pale sun, more had actually passed.

Leaving Alanna slumbering, Darrick went outside, gripping his sword.

A motley group of travelers, troubadours and mistrals, had stopped on the dirt road.  Surrounded by his men with their swords at the ready, they appeared less frightened than exhausted.

“What is this?”  Striding over, Darrick made a gesture and his men lowered their swords. 

Geoffrey stepped back, his gaze wary.  “They tried distract the guard so one of them could rummage through our supplies.”

“We must eat.”  The speaker, an older woman wearing a hood, waved her arms. 

“We are travelers, sir.”  One of the troupe, a young lad of about fourteen, jostled to the front.  “We mean no harm.”

Another nod, and Darrick’s small crew dispersed, most of them heading back to complete their rest.  The man who now stood watch resumed his place at the crest overlooking the road.  Geoffrey remained stubbornly at Darrick’s side, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

“Look!”  One of the troupe’s women exclaimed. 

Though he had a sneaking suspicion what he’d see, Darrick glanced over his shoulder at his tent.

Alanna had emerged and stood, rubbing at her eyes.  Even in the dim light of the wintry day, her creamy skin appeared to glow, lending her an ethereal beauty.  Darrick noted the stunned looks on the weary faces of the small band and braced himself for their reaction. 

“She is Sidhe,” breathed the lad, using another, more ancient name for the Fae.  Frowning, Geoffrey opened his mouth to speak but, at a gesture from Darrick, closed it.

As Alanna approached at a gliding walk, one by one the small troupe dropped to their knees.  Whether they paid homage because she was Fae or if they had somehow ascertained that she was a princess, Darrick knew not.

Amusement warring with impatience, he waited for Alanna to Alanna reach his side.

“What foolishness is this?”  With this quiet rebuke, he bade them to rise.  Heads bowed, they ignored him.

Darrick rubbed the back of his neck, suppressing his anger with difficulty.  Exhaustion and rage rode too close to the surface.  These were mere peasants, a troupe of entertainers.  They’d done little to warrant a warrior’s fury.

“Rise.”  Alanna’s soft voice had the desired effect.  In unison, they scrambled to their feet.  Their delighted wonder showing on their faces, they all stared silently.

“From where have you come?” she asked, unsmiling.

“From the coast,” the young lad replied.  Having apparently designated himself as spokesman for the group, his confident grin widened.  “`Tis winter, and the cold forces us to travel inland.”

“I see.  And where do you go?”

He shrugged.  “We follow the wind.”

Though his answer wasn’t a true answer at all, Alanna  accepted it with a dip of her chin.   Her sharp gaze was somber as she studied each of them in turn.

“Know you of Morfran, Lord Mortimer?” she asked.  “Or of Gorsedd, his advisor.  I know not if they travel together or apart, but each would be well-guarded.”

At the boy’s slow nod, Darrick stepped forward.  “What news?” Unsuccessful at tamping his anger this time, he knew his voice sounded harsh and threatening.