The Bonds of Blood (33 page)

“What?”

“What are you talking about? No one
said anything,” Angelica commented, now looking very sober and on
the verge of tears.

Jovian felt something graze his left
shoulder, which brought him crashing back to himself with such an
unsteady heave that he nearly lost his footing. Moments later
something whizzed by his right ear. There was a wet thud, and
suddenly the real world came flooding back to him in a swirl of
darkness.

He was staring straight into the dead
gray-white face of the verax-acis. A dart stuck out of its neck,
and as Jovian gained his bearings Beckindal reached for it. What
startled Jovian more than Joya’s dart sticking out of the
creature’s neck was the long arrow protruding from its gaping
mouth.

In shock of being faced with the
verax-acis, and for some reason dizzy, Jovian fell back in shock
landing hard on his bottom. His shoulder began burning as it was
jarred, and he realized that it was bleeding, not badly, but it had
been grazed by something, possibly Joya’s dart.

There was a sickening pop and Jovian’s
attention was drawn up in time to see Beckindal’s mouth popping
back into place even as he pushed the arrow further through the
back of his throat. With his mouth back in place, the verax-acis
bit down on the arrow, snapping it in half, and cast aside the
feathered end.

The sight had Jovian on his feet and
scrambling for Methos before he could see Beckindal tear the shaft
out of the back of his neck. All thought of the memory of home
faded from his mind in the present danger. He knew, without a
doubt, that this was real.

Jovian’s shoulder burned horribly, but
he could not stop. Quickly he swung up on Methos, flipped the bow
behind his back, and was pounding the ground in a fierce gallop
after Grace, Angelica, and Joya. Maeven was the only one who stuck
around after his hit landed, but he quickly fell in behind
Jovian.

Somehow Jovian had lost his
arrow.

His vision began to blur and Jovian
swayed in the saddle. He wondered if the verax-acis was trying to
lure his mind away again, but even as he thought it he knew it was
not true, for if Beckindal was working his will on Jovian he most
likely wouldn’t have the capacity to question it.

For a moment he lost sense of what was
happening, and when he came to it was to see Maeven riding right
next to him using nothing but his knees to steer his large white
stallion. Now at a manageable walk, Maeven nudged his horse closer
to Jovian. Once within arm’s reach, with his free hands Maeven tore
open more of the bloodied shoulder of Jovian’s tunic, but Jovian
was too out of it to protest the actions.

He wasn’t sure where Maeven got the
canteen, but he was pouring cool water on the wound. The water felt
like ice on the hot surface of Jovian’s skin, and he winced a
little when it soaked his shoulder.

“Joya’s dart accidentally skimmed your
shoulder. She didn’t realize it at the time, but they must have
poison dried on them.” Maeven explained. “Here, let’s forget our
animosity for now. You cannot ride on your own,” he said as Jovian
swooned, and with one mighty pull he dragged Jovian’s significantly
smaller body over onto his white stallion, holding the reins of
Methos as they sliced through the night. “When we arrive at the
Temple of Badock we will see that you are healed properly; for now
you need to rest.”

Jovian was aware that they were gaining
on Grace, but then he realized through the fog that clouded most of
his mind that this time.

“What happened?” Grace questioned over
the thudding of the hooves.

“Joya’s darts must have poison dried
onto them. It skimmed Jovian’s shoulder when she fired it.” Grace
cursed and drew nearer, but Maeven tightened his grip on Jovian’s
waist. “He will be fine for now; I have managed to dilute the
poison. He will be sick for a while, and he will need some
considerable healing when we reach the temple.”

CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE

_“I
am a humble pilgrim seeking
a vision,” Maeven said quickly hoping that this simple phrase
would gain them all entry. “I have come from my training in
Meedesville where I studied under Votary Krislyn.”

“I know Krislyn,” the woman said
nodding. “So you are on a Votaries pilgrimage?” said the woman on
the other side of the stout door where she studied them all through
a small slot.

“Yes,” Maeven said, casting a quick
look behind him.

“Who are the others with you?” she
asked.

“My companions, they too seek visions,”
he lied.

“What is the matter with that one?”
asked the mysterious woman behind the door. She looked with black
eyes down on Jovian where he was cradled, groggy and near sleep, in
Maeven’s arms.

“He has been poisoned, Bishop. Please,
we do not have much time. We need to get inside,” Maeven pleaded.
“There is a loose verax-acis after us; he nearly had this one. If
it was not for his sister’s dart and my arrow he would be gone
now.”

A loud clap of thunder sounded overhead
causing the five horses to whinny and fidget in protest where they
were picketed by the entrance. The woman on the other side of the
door looked up at the sky through the slot and as she did the
clouds suddenly gave way and they were all soon drenched with
rain.

“As the Goddess wills it, so shall it
be,” she said opening the door. Behind the heavy oak door stood a
strongly built woman in her mid-forties. Her hair was a dark brown,
streaked with silver, and her mouth was set in a stern but full
line. She looked as though she had been up for hours, and Angelica
figured she probably had been. If this woman was a bishop than she
would have been up for hours already praying.

The woman opened her arms in a gesture
to welcome them into the round, domed entryway. She wore a simple
habit of brown wool, hood drawn down so they could all see her face
clearly.

In the gray stone entryway a fire
burned in a fireplace to their left, and a tall statue of the
Goddess pregnant and naked stood to their right. The statue
reminded Angelica of the one in their chapel at home.

“Welcome to the Temple of Badock. I am
Bishop Madalain,” she said closing and locking the door behind
them. Maeven knew the name well: Bishop Madalain DeMayalaun. The
dialect came from the Barrier Mountains in the Realm of Earth, and
roughly translated to Madalain the Stone Gazer. As her name
depicted, she could divine many things in the earth as a form of
geomancy—the ability to predict future events by the placement of
things in nature, such as stones, twigs, and leaf patterns on the
ground.

“Let me take your cloaks,” she offered
and held out her hands. One at a time she took their sodden cloaks
and shook them out before hanging them on hooks near the
fireplace.

“Thank you, Bishop,” they murmured one
at a time as she took the burdens from them.

“Now, I assume you all are in need of
food, dry clothing, and a proper place to sleep before the young
votary trainee here acquires his vision?”

“That would be most appreciated, Bishop
Madalain,” Grace said stepping forward. “Also, do you have a healer
on staff? This boy will need proper tending to.” Grace motioned
toward Jovian.

Madalain nodded folding her hands
before her. “Certainly, wise one.”

“Thank you, Bishop,” Grace said
stepping back.

“If you would please follow me,” the
bishop said bowing her head to indicate the small wooden door
opposite the entrance. “I will show you to your rooms.”

They fell into single file behind
Madalain and stepped through the simple door into a large square
chamber beyond. This looked to be the place where the temple staff
gathered for meals as there was one large table surrounded by
high-backed chairs. To the right was a large archway curtained off
with silks and satins in various hues of blue. Directly opposite
them was another door.

It was not to either of these doors
that Madalain took them to, however, but instead she led them to
the left where simple stone stairs spiraled up.

“You said the verax-acis attacked?” the
bishop asked. They climbed the stairs behind her with only her
dimly flickering oil lamp to guide them.

“Yes, Bishop, he did,” Maeven
responded, seemingly more relaxed now that they were in the large
stone structure.

“And he did not kill this one?” she
asked.

“No, he did not.”

“That is strange,” she said.

“Sometimes they are known to play with
their … targets,” Grace said distantly.

“I have heard that. It is said that
often times the verax-acis must test a person’s resistance to their
intrusion.” Grace nodded as the bishop spoke.

“That may have been the case here. At
any rate, Jovian is not reacting as one normally does who has had
the full attention of a verax-acis,” Grace said, peering her head
around a pillar into the darkness beyond. “So that is a good
sign.”

“It is,” the bishop confirmed stepping
to the side to allow them all entry to the small hallway. “I will
be sure to have the healers see to him at once. I must caution,
however, that while they work no one is to bother them. This means
they will need to be alone with the boy.”

“Jovian,” Angelica supplied. “I am
Angelica; this is Grace, Joya, and Maeven.”

“Thank you, dear,” Madalain said
inclining her head to Angelica. “The guest rooms are this way.
Normally we play host to wayward travelers like you, but lately we
have not seen as many as normal. For this reason you are all
welcome to your own room.” Madalain turned left down the hall and
led them all away from the other rooms. Angelica wondered if those
rooms belonged to the Hierdule and Hetaira.

The bishop opened one door and led them
in. The room smelled warm and looked inviting despite being
nondescript; the effect instantly appeased Angelica’s apprehension.
“If you will set the boy on the bed, we will leave you so that you
can get him unclothed.” Madalain went around the room lighting
candles and oil lamps from the candle she carried. “All of the
rooms have a closet where we keep robes for travelers. I must tell
you that they are nothing elaborate, but they are dry and warm. The
bathing chamber is at the end of this part of the hall.” She
finished lighting the candles and stood with the door open
indicating they should leave. “My bishopric is downstairs through
the curtained archway you no doubt saw when we entered the dining
hall. If there is anything you need I am there almost all the time;
just announce yourselves before you enter as I am often in
prayer.”

“Thank you, Bishop,” Angelica said and
allowed herself to be led out with the others. Only Maeven stayed
behind to prepare Jovian for the healers.

“Pick whichever rooms you would like.
Breakfast is in a few hours yet, this will give you time to freshen
up and rest. For now I will leave you to your own devices. I only
ask that you leave the farther end of the hall in peace until after
breakfast is brought to you. That is where the other priests are,
and we would not want them disturbed.”

They all bowed their heads, and when
they looked back up Bishop Madalain was already heading back down
the stairs.

“I think it would be wise to rest as
long as we can before breakfast,” Grace said in the near darkness
of the hall.

The two girls nodded their agreement
and found their own rooms near Jovian’s.

The room Angelica chose was simple,
much like Jovian’s. The only furniture to speak of was the single
bed covered with un-dyed wool and a small nightstand that had
obviously seen more winters than Angelica had.

Silently she turned up the oil lamp
hanging by the door enough to bathe the room in dim golden light
and quickly disrobed. It would not do to sleep in wet
clothing.

On bare feet she pattered across the
room and sank into the bed. She was barely aware of pulling the
woolen blanket over her before falling into a deep
sleep.

A sharp rap on the door woke Angelica
from her near-coma-like sleep. She sat up instantly and for a time
was disorientated, not sure where she was or how she had gotten
there. She looked around the simple stone room and remembrance
slowly came to her.