Touch of Passion (44 page)

The eerie silence that Kian had experienced on his previous visit astonished Dyfed; he hadn't quite believed that it was as strange as his brother had told him.

“She's not in the castle proper,” he said as they made their way through the inner bailey and toward the castle doors. “He's put her in the family crypt.”

“Oh, my God,” Kian uttered, horrified. “Why didn't you tell me this before?”

Dyfed cast him a curious look. “Would it have made a difference?”

“No, but—a crypt.” Kian shuddered. “It makes sense, because she's a sorceress and he knew that she would be left powerless while confined with the dead. I just didn't realize that Cadmaran was quite that heartless. Where do we go?”

“It's behind the chapel,” Dyfed said, then paused, in both motion and speech, listening. “Desdemona says there are dogs guarding it. We must be careful. She says these dogs are made of stone.”

“Stone, are they?” Kian muttered, and fingered the side of his face that had so recently been scarred by the beast. “After dealing with the
athanc
these many weeks, stone dogs will be like taking a nap.”

Several minutes later, having made their way through the gardens to the back of the bailey—with Kian having to stop to put several servants to sleep along the way—they found what appeared to be the crypt, a small stone building secured by ornate iron gates through which they could see a series of steps leading downward. On either side of the gates a giant stone dog stood sentry, with teeth bared and enormous fangs protruding from both the top and bottom of its jaw. They were far bigger than any real dogs might be, slightly taller than Kian and Dyfed, and covered in sculpted muscles rippling convincingly over their stone bodies.

“Miss Caslin clearly has a gift for understatement,” Kian muttered.

“She did say to be careful,” Dyfed reminded him. “Can you handle them?”

“We'll soon find out,” Kian said, and drew in a long breath. “You'll have to go in alone to find her while I manage these brutes. As their purpose is to keep the tomb from being robbed, and as I don't know the enchantment to safely enter without being attacked, they'll likely come to life about the moment the gates are touched, which means you'll have to make a run for it. I'll place a spell of protection on you and have the gates already opened by the time you reach them.”

“I'll be as quick as I can in getting her out,” Dyfed promised.

“An excellent idea,” Kian told him. “I believe they may be good practice for the
athanc
, after all.”

It happened just as Kian predicted. Dyfed took off running, but as the gates unlocked and began to swing wide, the stone dogs quickly came to life—and leaped at him. They were just as quickly deflected, one after the other, so that they went tumbling away, but by the time Dyfed was over the threshold they had picked themselves up to charge at him again. Fortunately, the gates had already closed, and the beasts crashed against them with such force that Dyfed, who had nearly tumbled headlong down the stairs in the sudden darkness, almost thought they might give way. Turning, he saw the dogs' great, massive jaws chewing at the bars in order to get at him. Beyond them, standing in the sunlight, Kian met Dyfed's gaze and shouted, “Go!”

The giant dogs turned about at the sound of the new voice and threw themselves violently in Kian's direction. Dyfed had only a glimpse of his brother's determined face and of Kian's hands rising to cast some powerful spell before he turned and made his way down the stairs and into the darkness below.

The passage was narrow and the stairs made for much smaller feet; Dyfed was forced to place both hands against the cold stone walls on either side of him to steady himself. Outside he could hear the furious commotion the dogs made, growling and barking and lunging. The little building shook mightily and he knew that Kian had sent one of the brutes hard against the stones.

Desdemona
, Dyfed called silently, and heard her reply, aloud, not far away: “I'm here, Dyfed! At the bottom.”

He paused only long enough to reach into his pocket and remove a small white stone, which put forth a dim light, enough so that he could see his way.

“Here!” she cried, nearer now. “Hurry, please! I can't bear it!”

“I'm here, love,” he said. He neared the bottom, and before his foot was upon the last step he saw her, lying upon a stone bench, bound in silver cords. Her pale, taut face was turned toward him, and the distress he saw written there sent rage flowing through his veins.

“My God, Desdemona.” He was kneeling beside her in a moment.

It was icily cold in the depths of the crypt, and he knew firsthand how dark it had been before he'd come. She had been down here for days now, with only brief visits by Cadmaran and some of his servants to tend to her most basic needs. The Earl of Llew meant to keep her confined in this foul prison until she was ready to beg for his forgiveness and make an oath of obedience to him before the Guardians. Such an oath would be binding; Desdemona would become Lord Llew's slave.

Her cheek was cold when Dyfed set his hand to it.

“How do I get you out of these bonds?”

“You can't,” she said, shaking her head. “Only an extraordinary wizard can break them. You must take me to your brother.”

The building above shook again, and the sounds of snarling and barking became even more frenzied.

“I'll fetch Kian,” Dyfed said. “He can perform the enchantment safely in here.”

“No!” she said before Dyfed could rise. “Look about you, Dyfed. The dead are buried here. His magic will be useless. Even Cadmaran couldn't undo the bonds unless I was carried out.”

“Grand,” Dyfed muttered, casting a glance up to where the furious battle raged. “This is going to be interesting.”

He stood, scooping her slight frame into his arms, and headed for the stairs.

Bryn Chwilen wasn't a very tall mountain, compared to those surrounding it. It was more of a large hill but at its topmost portion provided an excellent view of the valley beyond.
Malachi stood beside one of the few trees on the hill and gazed out at Glen Aur, the fine estate belonging to his uncle Ffinian's new wife, Lady Alice. To Malachi's right was Tylluan, rising up into the tall mountains where the castle lay, and to his left was the valley where, some miles farther on, Llew was situated. He could see neither Tylluan proper nor anything at all of Llew, and so he satisfied himself with looking at peaceful, serene Glen Aur and contemplated whether his wild and rascally uncle would be content there. Malachi supposed that Ffinian would be, because of Lady Alice. A man could always be content when he was with the woman he loved.

But Lord Graymar didn't have the luxury of thinking on such things now or of pining for what he had never known and never expected to know. Being the
Dewin Mawr
was a pressing, demanding duty. Kian was fortunate to have been fated for Loris almost from the moment of his birth: he might never have had the time to find a suitable wife otherwise.

Malachi sensed, rather than heard, when Morcar Cadmaran was approaching; like all extraordinary wizards, they both possessed the gift of moving with complete silence.

Malachi turned to greet his adversary, thinking back to the days when they had been boys. They hadn't precisely been friends, but they had at least been friendly on those few occasions when they met. The long feud that had continued between the Seymour and Cadmaran clans made it impossible for anything more to develop between them, and they had both known that they would one day assume the leading roles among their families. But Malachi could still recall long hours of merely being boys together, of caring far more about fishing and collecting insects and playing tricks on unsuspecting girls than about carrying on ancient insults.

“You've come,” he said as the other man neared. “I'm glad. I hope you've been well.”

The Earl of Llew smiled grimly. “Do you mean apart from the blindness, Malachi? Aye, other than that, I've been very
well. And how is the great
Dewin Mawr?
Was your journey from London quite pleasant?”

Cadmaran had come alone, leaving his men at the foot of the hill. They were mere mortals, all of them, and useless in a fight against an extraordinary wizard. The Earl of Llew never employed magic mortals as servants, Malachi remembered, for he believed that mere mortals, being inferior, were more properly suited to be in service to those who were magic.

“It was very brief,” Malachi replied honestly, struck anew by the other man's greater height and physical power. Unlike Seymours, the Cadmaran family had inherited the blood of giants, rather than elves, with the result that they tended to be quite large and daunting. And rather stupid as well. “I was obliged to make the journey in something of a hurry.”

Cadmaran tilted his head. “Indeed? I can guess as to the reason. You've come about the
athanc
, have you not? At last.”

“Not entirely,” Malachi confessed. “I fear my cousin is yet too stubborn to accept my help. He's of the mind, you see, that he must face this challenge on his own, and prove that he is worthy to one day be
Dewin Mawr
.”

“Ah,” Lord Llew uttered with clear satisfaction. “But you are far wiser than he, are you not, Malachi? You know that there will be no stopping the beast without my help.”

“Kian is a capable wizard, Morcar,” Lord Graymar replied coolly. “He may yet find the way on his own.”

“He is certainly welcome to try,” Cadmaran said, and with the staff he held felt for something to sit upon. His black hair had been left to grow long and, unbound, fluttered about his starkly handsome face. “The beast will continue to ravage the land and feed itself as best it can all the while.”

Malachi had promised Kian an hour, at least, to get Desdemona Caslin safely out of Llew. Which meant that he must keep Lord Llew not only occupied but also unsuspicious. Fortunately, Cadmaran was as vain as he was powerful and loved to hear the sound of his own voice praising his own
cleverness and cunning. It had certainly been thus when they'd been boys, and though they'd met but a few times since becoming adults, Malachi was fairly certain that hadn't changed.

“How is it that an American came to know about the ancient creatures of Europe?” he asked. “And, of far greater importance, how did you discover he knew, and lure him here to Wales to release the beast from its slumber?”

Lord Llew had settled himself comfortably on a large rock and, looking very pleased with the questions, said, “I shall tell you a little, if you wish to hear it. But it will not put off forever the matter that we have come to discuss, Malachi, though you may desire it. The
athanc
must be stopped, and there is only one way that you can achieve that goal.”

“Tell me about Draceous Caslin first,” Malachi said. “And about his daughter, Desdemona, who controls the creature.”

“I should have thought your cousin, who believes himself to be in love with my betrothed, would have already told you a great deal about her,” Morcar said, laughing lightly. “But I shall gladly tell you all, for she is a wondrous female and an admirable sorceress. Sit and be comfortable, Malachi, and I will answer your questions before we come to an understanding. Or to something rather different.”

It wasn't so much that the stone dogs were large and ferocious and determined to tear Kian into tiny bits that had him sweating. It was the innumerable fighting men who insistently appeared from among the various garden pathways to attack him while he was already busy tossing the dogs, by turns, into the air or against the building or up into the trees. The Earl of Llew clearly had a large army at his disposal, all mere mortals, fortunately, else Kian would have found it far more difficult to make them insensible. Between them and the dogs, however, his hands were sufficiently full, and Dyfed's voice in Kian's head telling him that he must also somehow find a spare moment to free
Miss Caslin—from enchanted silver cords, no less—wasn't precisely welcome.

She knows the spell Cadmaran uses for turning the dogs back into stone
, Dyfed told Kian in his silent speech.
Just get her unbound and she'll deal with the creatures and you can get back to the men
.

“That won't be quite as simple as you make it sound,
fy gefell
,” Kian shouted back, loud enough so that Dyfed could hear him, using one hand to cast a spell on the latest wave of fighting men and the other to toss the dog nearest him as far into the garden as possible. Then he turned immediately to tend to its twin, which was actually ripping up chunks of earth in its frenzy to get at him. Kian used both hands to send it flying away, but the other dog had already recovered and was tearing its way through what remained of the shrubs with teeth bared.

Did he even
know
the spell for loosing silver cords? he wondered. It was another ancient enchantment that he'd heard of but never come across before. Cadmaran certainly seemed to prefer the odd, old ways to the new.

“I'm going to toss the dogs,” Kian said, shouting again, “and take a moment to put up a shield that will stop them and the men. It won't last long—Llew is far too well protected against such enchantments. We'll have but seconds before they're through again.” He paused to put more of Cadmaran's men to sleep—there was getting to be quite a pile of them—then to toss the dogs again. “Wait for me to tell you when,” Kian instructed, “and then lay her down before me as quickly as you can.”

It took a full minute of dealing with both the men and the dogs before the chance came for Kian to put up the shield; then, “
Come!
” he shouted, and readied himself to free Desdemona Caslin.

Dyfed threw the gates open and sprinted across the small clearing, laying the young woman on the ground as gently but quickly as he could.