VirtualWarrior (13 page)

Ardra held Deleh in her arms. “I will find the way back.
Trust me.”

Deleh sniffed. “I do not weep for myself. In truth, I can
think of nothing but joining Tol. I have prayed that it will not be long. But
you—you are so young. Your son needs you. And I know that Samoht would relish
your death. ‘Twould mean he could take the fortress and the boy without
bloodshed or dishonor to Tol’s name. If we die, Samoht solves two problems at
once. I am a useless old woman, and you are too much trouble.”

“I will not believe Samoht so base as to allow two women to
perish in such a way.” But doubts niggled at her composure.

She took Deleh’s hand and tugged her forward. “I will find
our way back. We shall walk until we find the river, then follow it.”

Inside, she was sick with dread.

A shadow stepped in front of her. Deleh screamed.

“Lien!” Ardra clamped down on her joy. She forced herself to
walk past him. It would not do to let him think she had been lost. As he walked
at her side, she noticed he did not depend on his walking staff. His stride was
fluid, easy.

“Camp’s the other way,” he said and pointed off to her
right.

“Of course,” she said, veering in that direction, dragging
Deleh behind her.

“I figured you must be lost, you were gone so long.”

She could not see his face in the heavy rain, but heard no
mockery in his tone. “I again must thank you for your care.”

“No problem. I aim to serve. I heard voices, and that told
me where to find you. Where is everyone anyway?”

A most apt question. Where were the guards to guide her
home?

Lien pulled off his cloak and draped it over Deleh’s
shoulders. He pulled the hood up, tucking it close about the old woman’s chin.

In silence, he led them back to the camp. Even when they
were right upon the tents, the camp was nearly invisible in the heavy rain.
Ardra went directly to Tol’s tent. Lien left them at the entrance.

No guards stood outside, and the itch of unease she’d felt
became a certainty of some evil. Was Deleh right? Were there no guards because
Samoht had expected them to perish on the plain?

Ardra helped the old woman into a warm woolen gown, stirred
the braziers, and heated a warm drink for her. Then she pulled off her own
soaked clothing and donned one of Deleh’s loose robes.

“You waste time,” Deleh said. “Go to the young man. He must
need his cloak.” She crawled onto Tol’s bed couch and pulled a heavy fur over
her legs. “Lien was uncommonly kind. Not even Tol would have given his cloak to
a slave.”

“He is surely in Ollach’s tent by now.”

“I will wager my silver hair beads for a scented candle that
he is outside as we speak,” Deleh said.

“I have no need of your hair beads. He is not so much a fool
that he would stand in the rain.”

“My bath oil for a scented candle.”

“Ah, now that is worth the wager.” Ardra peeked outside. At
first she did not see him; then a glimmer of white caught her eye. Was it a
guard making his rounds? Nay, ‘twas Lien sheltering against the side of a tent,
the white his tunic.

“I owe you a scented candle. Now I must go,” she said to Deleh,
picking up Lien’s wet cloak. “Rest and stay warm.”

“Thank him, Ardra, but be wary.”

“What does that mean?” Deleh often tried to mother her.

“It means Lien is a most intriguing man, but I wonder if he
was born with such dark hair or if some evil curse changed him. If he was
cursed…you may fall under ill luck in his company.”

“I mean only to return his cloak.”

“Ardra—” Deleh held out her hand. When Ardra took it, the
old woman squeezed it. “I know Tol taught you much that a woman should not
know. I could never agree with such nonsense. Do not allow his teachings to
bring you harm. Accept the mate that Samoht will surely choose for you, and
raise more babies. Forget the fortress.”

“It is not the fortress, but the people within its walls I
worry about, my son included. Now rest. When the sun rises, I will speak to
Samoht and Einalem about a place for you.”

“Old slaves have no place when their master dies.” A single
tear ran down Deleh’s cheek.

“Do not speak so. I swear I will see to your care. Now
please, sleep.” She kissed Deleh’s brow and drew the fur up to her chin. Deleh
closed her eyes and sighed.

Ardra took up Lien’s cloak again and went out into the
night. Where were the guards? Who neglected his duties so that her tent and
Tol’s went unprotected?

She crossed the muddy expanse of ground to where Lien stood.
She handed him the cloak. “I must thank you for your kindness to Deleh.”

“No problem. Anyone would have done the same.”

“Nay, not here. Could I impose upon you yet again to fetch
Ollach? Please ask him to stand guard outside my tent.” She curtseyed and
walked away. She did not look back.

She banished thoughts of what Lien would do about his wet
clothes, or how he would get them dry. She would
not
think of him
pulling the wet tunic over his head, or drawing the black leather breeches down
his hips.

Einalem watched Ardra speak with the dark one, then watched
him stand in the rain until she disappeared into her tent. He pulled the cloak
over his shoulders and went to the tent Ralen shared with Ollach. A few moments
later, Ollach left the tent and stood guard before Ardra’s. The dark one did
not reappear.

The thought of him, so exotic, so completely different from
the other men, stirred her desires for a moment, but she thrust them aside. He
would serve for a bed game or two, but that was not what she wanted. She
skirted a muddy puddle and summoned one of Samoht’s guards.

“My brother wishes to speak with Ralen. Could you fetch him
here?” The man bowed, and she pressed a coin into his palm. Now the man would say
‘twas the high councilor who wanted Ralen, not she. Gossip could be so
troublesome.

While she waited she would tend to other matters. And she
knew Ralen would keep her waiting. His need to defy her in small ways was part
of his allure.

She opened a large coffer filled with the impedimenta of her
craft. She drew one unexceptional stone bottle from a row of others much like
it and tapped a bit of dusty powder onto a linen square. After filling a goblet
with a fine wine she kept warm in a brazier, she poured the powder into it.

Lest the wine’s taste be ruined, she dropped dried fruit
peel into the goblet. She placed it close to the brazier and then wandered
around the tent, plumping pillows, lighting a wick in a dish of scented oil.
Idly she considered a drop of hypnoflora between her breasts, but discarded the
idea. Languid compliance was not what she wished from Ralen.

She heard the murmur of voices outside. Ralen entered the
tent and shook the water from his cloak before draping it across a bench.

“I should complain to Samoht that you keep me waiting,”
Einalem said.

“But you will not,” Ralen said. He pulled off his tunic and
took care to lay it out neatly.

Einalem licked her lips. “Any punishment to you would punish
me as well.” She ran her hands up his chest and pulled his head close. “Have I
told you how the sight of you makes me wet with desire?”

He kissed her. “Many times, but I never tire of hearing it.”

She could not prevent a shiver.

“You are cold,” he said and lifted her into his arms. He
placed her on the bed couch. When he opened her robe, he smiled. “There are
other things I rarely tire of as well.”

His mouth was hot on her breast. She pushed him away. “I
want to watch you disrobe.”

He grinned and raked his thick, blond hair off his face.
“Whatever pleases you pleases me.”

Quickly he tugged off his boots. But when he stood before
her, it was with agonizing slowness that he unlaced his leather breeches and
peeled them off his hips.

“I see you are very pleased,” she whispered and reached out
for him.

“Do not be greedy, Einalem,” he said, evading her grasp. “A
woman should be more circumspect in her desires.”

“I have never learned the skill.” She climbed onto her knees
and put out her arms. He stepped into her embrace. His body was roped with
muscle, his skin cool from the night air. A small groan of desire escaped him
as she rubbed her breasts against him.

“Now.” She urged him down over her. “It must be now or I
shall perish of the need of you.”

He granted her request. As he filled her, she stifled a cry,
arching into his hard rhythm and biting his lips.

You will be mine
, she chanted silently as the power
of his thrusts overwhelmed her.
You will be mine
, she thought with
triumph as he moaned through his climax.

He rolled off her and lay on his back, sweat glistening on
his skin. She rose and walked to the table. She brought a basin and linen towel
to the bedside, then went back for the goblet of wine, which she set near to
hand.

“Allow me to bathe you,” she said.

“You would make an excellent slave,” he said as she propped
the pillows behind him and then knelt at his side.

She smiled and said nothing.
It would be he who was
enslaved after he drank of the wine.
“It is quite a pleasurable task,
Ralen. You have the finest body of any man I have ever bedded.”

Ralen encircled her wrist and tugged her close. “I saw you
watching the pilgrim. Has he been in your bed yet?”

She pulled against his hard grip. “Are you jealous?”

“Answer the question.”

“Nay, although I must admit that he is most alluring.”

His fingers tightened. “Just remember, Einalem, if you share
another man’s bed, you will not share mine.”

His pale blue eyes were almost silver in the candlelight.
They were as cold as Ardra’s ice.

“I too will not share.” She bent her head and gently bit the
back of his hand. He eased his hold. She tongued the spot.

When she raised her head, some of the chill had left his
gaze.

“Now that we have established what selfish beings we are, is
that wine for me?” he asked.

“Ah. Forgive me.” She lifted the goblet. “This is a special
blend I have mixed just for you. ‘Tis said if a man drinks of it in a certain
way, his manhood will rise five times in one night.”

“Only five times?” He grinned.

Slowly she straddled his hips. She pressed the goblet
against her breasts. “I will warm it a bit for you.”

His icy eyes widened, his manhood stirred against her
warmth. She took a sip of the wine and allowed the taste to suffuse her mouth;
then she leaned forward. Her breasts grazed his chest; she nestled down on the
heat of him.

He pulled her mouth to his, and she trickled the wine over
his tongue. She swirled her tongue over his, sharing the wine, the infusion of
herbs, the ancient rite.

“Again,” he whispered. He clasped her buttocks in his palms
and shifted her against his hardness. She drained the wine and then sealed her
mouth on his. He participated this time as he must, rolling his tongue on hers,
sealing his fate.

The sun rose, a dazzling red jewel in the sky. Hope filled
Ardra’s breast as she stepped from her tent. Such a clear and lovely day must
bode well.

She yawned. Her sleep had been restless, filled with dream
kisses, and the most embarrassing realization that it was she who did all the
kissing whilst the man, a shadowy person who held no place in her memory except
as warm lips, insisted she stop.

Then she frowned. She saw no warriors readying their horses
for a journey into the Tangled Wood. Ollach was gone.

She hurried to Samoht’s tent. He stood by his table, a map
spread before him. Einalem reclined on his bed couch. Did the woman have no
duties? Was no one ailing this morn?

But alarm filled her when she saw the other men who sat on
benches along the wall. The Tolemac high councilors. Ralen was not among them.

Other than a solemn greeting, Samoht ignored her. She walked
down the row of men, curtseying low to each so they could touch her on the
head. Each murmured some condolence on Tol’s passing. No one met her eyes.

Samoht continued his disregard of her presence. Was he angry
with her for shoving the candle stand into his manhood? Why should she care?
‘Twas he who had behaved badly. She had but defended herself. ‘Twas he who had
tried to put his hands beneath her skirt.

He rolled a map, tied it up. “What may I do for you, Ardra?”
he finally asked, his arms crossed on his chest.

“I seek Tol’s men,” Ardra said. “I want to leave
immediately.”

“They will not go.”

“What do you mean?” Ardra stared at his handsome face and
saw a glimmer of satisfaction there. A councilor behind her whispered to
another.

Einalem answered. “They will not serve you. They did so only
by Tol’s order, and now Tol is dead.”

Ardra ignored her and directed her words to Samoht. After
all, he held the power, not Einalem. “And you will not order them to serve me,
will you?”

If she challenged him, would one of the other councilors
champion her cause?

“I will not.” He inclined his head to the councilors. “We
decided that Tol’s men should serve Ralen until another councilor can be chosen
in his place. At that time, Ralen will transfer his authority.”

A mad desire to push Samoht onto his table of maps swept
over her. She controlled it and spoke with all the dignity she could gather. “I
see. You have set me a task that requires me to go into a cursed wood after a
woman who is evil, and now you tell me I must do it alone.
You
would not
do it alone.”

As a Selaw woman, she was not permitted to directly address
the council and influence them, but they must know what Samoht was doing to
her.

She gathered her wits. “It seems to me, Most Esteemed High
Councilor, that you do not really wish to regain the vial.”

“Nonsense. The vial is of great importance. And your task
remains the same. If you wish to rule, you must find It,” Samoht said. “I do
not believe we need detain these worthy men any longer. They traveled far to
honor Tol and must return to the capital.”

The other councilors rose like sheep and filed out. Ardra
dropped a curtsey to each one, though they did not bow or acknowledge her. The
exchange humiliated her.

Her head pounded with both anger and fatigue. When the
councilors were gone, she said, “You never set the task with any intention of
fairness. You are a dishonorable man, Samoht, and I will not hesitate to say so
to whomever will listen.”

“Watch your tongue, Ardra.” He uncrossed his arms, and she thought
he might strike her.

Ralen entered the tent and paused, glancing from Ardra to
Samoht. “What is wrong here?”

Ardra rounded on him. “You ask what is wrong? Surely you are
a part of it?”

“What are you talking about?” Ralen asked.

Einalem stepped between Ardra and Ralen. She placed her hand
on Ralen’s chest. “Ardra is angry that Tol’s men will not ride with her.”

Ardra watched Ralen’s face and felt a small measure of
relief that he appeared confused. He sidestepped past Einalem. “Why not?”

Samoht shrugged. “It is the council’s decision. Ollach said
his men fear the Wood. They also think it humiliating to be commanded by a
woman. This last is reason enough for the council.”

“Ollach is my man now; I will speak to him,” Ralen said.
“Ardra cannot seek the goddess alone. If you want the Vial of Seduction found,
how can one woman alone accomplish it? ‘Tis folly, Samoht.”

“I imagine Samoht has no intention that I succeed,” Ardra
said. “I believe he intended that I should perish on the plain after scattering
Tol’s ashes.”

“How dare you accuse my brother—” Einalem began, but Ralen
ended it.

“Be silent. I will escort Ardra. Tol’s men will follow me.”

Einalem gasped. “Surely you do not mean to leave already?
You have just arrived.”

“I agree,” Samoht said. “What nonsense. I cannot spare you
to such a task.”

“Yet it makes good sense that I do so. I claim my right to
mourn my brother. Besides, I know the way. I have met the goddess and found her
quite amiable. Now I must speak to Ollach and ready our party. Ardra—one
packhorse, no more.” Ralen left the tent.

Samoht glared after him, then turned to Ardra. “I grant you
only the eight days of mourning for your quest. At the end of that time, you
must either produce the vial or accept whatever measures I deem appropriate for
the well-being of your people.”

“Samoht, Einalem.” Ardra bowed to them each in turn and
hurried after Ralen before they could stop her. She ran up behind him and took
his arm. “Ralen. I must thank you.”

He glowered down at her. “Do not thank me. This mission is a
waste of time and supplies, and I did not volunteer in order to aid you. I did
it out of respect for Tol. He would never have countenanced such treatment of
his lifemate. He too would not care to have his son under Samoht’s thumb. I
merely want to do as he might.”

Then his frown softened. “Why did you say Samoht wished you
to perish when you scattered Tol’s ashes? What happened?”

Ardra told him as they searched for Ollach. “Visibility was
down to a stone’s throw after you left. Would you not have posted guards along
the way back to camp so a mourner could find her way home? Samoht did not. He
knew I would have naught but my mourning robe—no mantle, no hood to protect me
in the storm.”

“Samoht is cunning, but I will not believe I serve a man so
treacherous. I am sure ‘twas an oversight, but I will speak to him myself on
the matter.”

“What will that serve? He will only deny it.”

“Still, I will speak to him. Now I must prepare my men. See
to your own.” He strode away.

Ralen was a cold contrast to Lien’s warmth. Ralen, she
suspected, would not give his cloak to a slave.

A commotion drew Ardra’s eyes. “Nilrem!” She lifted her hem,
dashed between two tents, and leaped across a muddy puddle. She curtseyed to
the wiseman when he had climbed down from his cart.

“Ah, Ardra. I see I am too late.” Nilrem took her hand and
kissed the back of it.

She touched her hair, long, loose, and unadorned. It was a
sign of mourning, as was the lack of thumb rings on her hands. “Aye. You are
too late. We will speak of it another time. Now I need your advice.”

“I must pay my respects to Samoht first, my child. Await me
in your tent. We will talk, I promise you.”

As Ardra headed for her tent, she wondered what tale Samoht
and Einalem would weave for the wiseman. How she wished to be invisible and
listen to their conversation.

She swallowed hard and looked out over the plain to the
smudge of white on the horizon. Home had never seemed so far away or so
enticing. She had but eight days, an impossibly short time.

Lien leaned on his stick and watched Ralen give orders. The
guy was really efficient. Everyone jumped when he spoke, even Ollach, who had
groused all morning about dying in a cursed place. Lien gathered that Tol’s men
expected to be swarmed by serpents when they reached the goddess’s fortress;
none wanted to linger in agony as the venom ate through their bodies.

Lien wasn’t so enamored of snakes himself. He had one on his
arm only because his teammates had dubbed him “the snake” after a lacrosse game
in which he’d “snaked” his way between two All-American defensemen and scored
to win the championship.

That night, he’d gotten drunk at a frat party, then gone
with a bunch of the guys to a tattoo parlor. Afterward, Eve had reamed him out
big time. Not for the tattoo, which he suspected turned her on, but for the
drinking. That was before he had really accepted the fact that his mother was
an alcoholic. It was before his dad had died of cancer and taken all his
mother’s reason for being with him.

Lien moved toward a string of horses, saddlebags over their
rumps. He’d heard Nilrem was in camp. He’d like to see the old bugger and get
some advice on where to go next.

Nilrem was with Ollach. The old man was directing the
warrior in a pedantic tone that made Lien smile. “Nilrem,” Lien said. “How’re
you doing?”

“Ah, pilgrim. I am well, although I much regret I could not
be here to celebrate Tol’s passing. He was a good man.”

“Can I talk to you a minute?” Lien asked the wiseman.

“Are you ailing? You lean most heavily on that stick. Is it
a potion you need? Stitching?” Nilrem took his arm.

“We’ll talk about me another time,” Lien said, evading the
issue of his health. “I just need advice.”

Lien figured they looked like two old geezers stumping along
with their sticks. He led Nilrem away from Ralen’s men to the outskirts of
camp. The old man leaned against some rocks. Overhead, a blood-red sun burned
in an alien purple sky.

Lien took a deep breath. “Look. I’m not from around here. I
don’t have any clothes. I don’t have anything to barter for my keep, either.
What do you suggest I do?”

Nilrem hummed and chewed his lower lip. “Has Ardra repaid
you for saving her life?”

“Forget Ardra. I don’t want to involve her in my problems.”

“You cannot prevent it. It is not possible to ignore the
entwining of your lives. You sought my wisdom at the exact moment Ardra needed
you. My advice is to hitch your cart to her star.”

Nilrem cackled a moment, and Lien frowned. Something
bothered him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was.

“I don’t think Ardra wants me anywhere around her.”

“Oh? She is coming. I shall ask her.”

“No, don’t,” Lien began, but he was too late. Nilrem waved
his arm like a windmill. Ardra could not help seeing him.

She hurried over and curtseyed to the old man. Lien loved
the gesture. It was somehow delightful, this old-fashioned mark of respect.

“The high councilor told me of the challenge he has set you,
Ardra,” Nilrem said. “I think it madness. Eight days only! But I understand why
you feel the need to acquiesce to his demands.”

“I am sure he wishes me dead,” she said.

Lien frowned. Her words were less angry than resigned, and
yet she was determined to go. He admired her courage. If it were his choice,
he’d be on the first wagon train back to the fortress.

“Then you must heed me,” Nilrem said.

Ardra bowed her head. “What should I do?”

“Take Lien with you. Do not let him out of your sight.”

“Whoa—!” Lien began.

“I will not take him,” Ardra said. Her chin went straight
into the air.

Nilrem put a hand out and she took it. “I understand your
anger and disappointment. But one may not ignore the augury of the gods. You
were practicing the old ways when Lien saved your life. You owe him, and until
you pay, your life is tied to his.”

“Don’t I have a say in this?” Lien asked.

“Nay. You do not. When Ardra has saved your life, you may
part company with her.”

Good thing Nilrem didn’t know he’d saved her life twice
more—once in the forest and once on the plain. Hell, if he went by Nilrem’s
advice, he was stuck with Ardra forever.

“I will not take him.” Ardra dropped Nilrem’s hand and
jammed her hands on her hips. “I will not.”

“You will take him for protection,” Nilrem said. “It is
imperative, for you see, you must also take Samoht.”

Ardra concealed her anger as they climbed the steep path up the
cliff to the edge of the Tangled Wood. Samoht and Einalem led the party. If
their horses moved any slower, they would go backward. Their pace must be
calculated to prevent her from accomplishing her task. At this rate, it would
take eight days just to reach the summit.

The moment they reached the summit she would ask Ralen to
lead. He too had but eight days and might understand her urgency.

Nilrem also held the party back. He was a terrible rider.
Luckily, Lien’s riding skills seemed to have improved. Although, curiously,
when she looked back at him on the treacherous trail, his skin had lost much of
its color.

Samoht had loaded the party with every possible impediment:
the wiseman, his sister, her three personal slaves, and four packhorses. Not to
mention the full complement of Red Rose Warriors. At least the party also
included Ralen’s archers.

Ardra gritted her teeth to keep from screaming aloud. When
they reached the scrubby trees that marked the beginning of the great forest,
she kicked her horse to a canter to pull even with Ralen.

He frowned at her as if she were a troublesome child. So be
it, trouble she would be. “What is it, Ardra?” he asked.

“We move too slowly. Can you not take the lead and quicken
our pace?” She tipped her head in Samoht’s direction. He was chatting with his
sister, pointing out trees, indicating a bird’s nest.

“First, why is he on this venture?” Ralen asked. “What
happened?”

“Nilrem said that Einalem expressed a desire to meet the
goddess. She claimed that as a healer, she might learn much from someone who is
touted in story and song as a great herbalist—albeit an evil one. Samoht
decided to accompany Einalem to keep her safe.”