The Penwyth Curse Part 17

"Aye, I know it is poison, for it could be nothing else. This curse of yours, it offends a warrior's brain. I won't touch the food you give me for my wedding feast. Bring your granddaughter. I would see her."

"The fourth husband didn't eat," Lord Vellan said. "And he died as well. Just fell over dead."

"That is a lie I refuse to believe."

"She is to wed Sir Bishop of Lythe, sent by King Edward himself."

He was silent, but just for a moment. "I have not heard of this, and thus it is a lie as well. Let me and my men in, old man, before we scale the walls and smite all the old warriors down. Think you they could do anything more than heave great curses at us?"

Likely not, Lord Vellan thought. He said, "Who are you? Where do you come from?"

"I am Fioral of Grandere Glen, here to claim my inheritance."

"I have never heard of you. What is Grandere Glen?"

"It lies near the mouth of the great Loch Ness, in Scotland. I am a second son and thus must make my own way. Let us in, old man, or I will kill everyone in this keep."

Lord Vellan knew there was no hope for it. He shouted down to Fioral of Grandere Glen, "Listen, Sir Bishop of Lythe took my granddaughter to"a"oh, G.o.d, where did Bishop take Merryn?a""Aye, Sir Bishop took her to the earl of St. Erth. Since she is not here, you cannot wed her."

Fioral cursed. The old man was lying, he had to be lying. Who the devil was this Bishop of Lythe? Here by the king's command? Was he in league with Dienwald de Fortenberry, the king's precious son-in-law? Aye, a rogue he was said to be, but the king merely waved away his misdeeds. If Sir Bishop of Lythe had taken her to St. Erth, then he would not be able to get to her.

Ah, but when Sir Bishop came back to Penwyth with her, and of course he would return, then Fioral would simply kill him and wed her himself.

He would be the sixth husband. The number six had always been lucky for him. He smiled. No doubt the priest in residence here at Penwyth had memorized the marriage ceremony by now. He smiled at his own wit. Aye, this felt right to him. He spoke to the men behind him. One by one, slowly, they nodded.

Dolan, his master-at-arms, came close and said, out of the hearing of the rest of the men, "Fioral, we could lie in wait between here and St. Erth, kill this Bishop of Lythe, and bring the granddaughter back here."

Fioral thought about that, then shook his head. "Nay, we must be in the position of power. I will be here, sitting in Lord Vellan's chair, alive and laughing when this Sir Bishop returns with her. Then he is a dead man. And I? Why, then I'll soon be the fifth husband."

"Or the sixth, more likely," said Dolan. "If this vaunted curse hasn't laid Sir Bishop in his grave."

"Or the sixth," Fioral said, "if he wedded her elsewhere and has not been struck down." He eased his helmet off his head again because it chafed the back of his head. "I think the old man is telling the truth. Were I this Bishop of Lythe, I would take her to St. Erth."

"If he did," Dolan said, "it means that he believed the curse and took her away from here so he wouldn't be butchered when he wed her."

"The fool. It is poison, plain and simple poison. No ancient Druid spirits are lurking hereabouts, no Witches of Byrne are crouched down in the scrubby trees."

Dolan sincerely prayed his master was right.

Fioral called up to Lord Vellan, "We are coming into Penwyth. Lower the drawbridge or I will kill every man, woman, and child within. I will spare none. If you allow us to enter, then all of you are safe."

"But not the animals," Dolan said. "We need to eat while we wait for this Bishop of Lythe."

"I wonder, does the wretched Penwyth curse travel around with the heiress?"

Dolan shook his head. "That is hard to accept."

Fioral chewed that over, then paused a moment.

He laughed as he watched the mighty drawbridge being winched slowly down over the moat, which, he saw, had only three feet or so of water in it. The water didn't look stagnant, green with rotted vegetation. It seemed fresh.

He'd heard about a drought plaguing Penwyth, and perhaps the plants and trees and crops he'd seen were a bit dry, but the air was fresh and there was water in the moat. No drought, just another wild tale, like that wretched Druid and witch curse. He thought he would perhaps kill one of the old warriors, just to show Lord Vellan that he was serious, that he was here to stay, that this was now his keep, and these were his animals and his old graybeard warriors, whose brains, he hoped, were not frozen back in time with the desperately foul King John.

He was smiling even as he spurred his destrier forward, hooves clattering on the thick wooden drawbridge. Mayhap he'd kill old Lord Vellan. Then everyone would know that any poison would bring death to all of them.

The Tintagel Cave Bishop grabbed for the hand that had struck him. He caught only dead air.

This slap to his cheek caught him off balance and sent him onto his back on the floor of the cave. He sat there, angry and utterly confused.

He crawled back, leaned over the black hole, stretched his arm down its full length. That d.a.m.ned hand it couldn't be all that far down. The hole couldn't be deep at all. "d.a.m.n you, come out of that hole."

He heard laughter, he knew it was laughter. It was growing fainter, as if whoever had struck him was climbing back down into the hole. That meant there must be a ladder of sorts.

Bishop leaned over the edge of the circular stones, and felt around for a ladder or a rope, something. He paused, listened. He could hear nothing now, could feel nothing, not even any movement in the air.

Then, suddenly, he heard soft breathing right beside his left ear. He jerked around, but no one was there, nothing was therea"but then he knew, just knew. He looked down in the blackness. He didn't want to, but he did. He even leaned down into it.

When two very strong hands grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into the hole, he wasn't surprised, but he was terrified. Then he was free, no hands on him, and he was falling and falling.

And he made no sound at all.

Sometime Else The prince awoke slowly, stretched. In that instant he knew he wasn't alone. Someone else was drifting over him, through him, settling in, but he was still himself. He felt the other's hunger, his aches from sleeping on the floor of the oak forest.

The prince of Balanth shook away all the nonsense and took stock. He knew he was still in her oak forest, and he was alone. Yet again, he was alone.

He threw back his head and yelled, "Brecia! Come here, you d.a.m.nable witch. Show yourself."

There was a slight s.h.i.+fting of the air, making it s.h.i.+mmer, and she was suddenly standing there, right in front of him, her arms crossed over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. She looked furious.

"Brecia," he said, and stuck out his hand to take hers.

She looked at that hand, brown, strong, the blunt nails. "Your hand, prince? Why, were I stupid enough to touch your hand, you might just turn me into a toad. Where is your wand?"

"You, a toad? You would make a dangerous toad. You would gather all the toads together, overthrow the local toad government, and make yourself their queen toad. My wand? That is a good question. I don't know where my wand is. It seemed to leave me, not long ago. Isn't that odd? I don't remember. I don't know why I'm here, sleeping in your forest, either. Something strange has happened that I don't understand. Did you put a spell on me, Brecia?"

When she didn't take his hand, he finally drew it back.

She said slowly, "There is something different about you, prince. Mayhap the G.o.ds came to you, ordered you to curb your arrogance, your violence?"

He seemed, to her eyes, to take this seriously. "Why, no, I don't think so. Do you believe I am too arrogant? Too violent?"

Something was strange here, he was right about that. She nodded slowly. "Aye, sometimes I have seen you so."

"Why was I sleeping, Brecia? In your oak forest, away from your fortress?"

"It was night. It was good that you slept."

He looked around. "But here? Alone in your forest? Nothing at all to protect me?"

"Why would you need anything to protect you? Aye, I see. It's because your wand is gone."

"I don't think so," the prince said. "I was in your fortress. I'd tied you down, but then, even without your wand, you disappeared. Where did you go, Brecia?"

"I didn't go far, just off to your left, if you would know the truth. I wanted my wand back. I heard you laughing." Why, she wondered, had she told him the truth? She never had before. He was too dangerous, this wizard prince was too powerful, this prince she'd wanted so desperately three years before. She said, "I think you simply decided to leave my fortress, to leave my oak forest, but you tired and decided to sleep here."

He frowned.

"And why not? You are so arrogant, so above all mortals and immortals alike, you wouldn't believe any wild animal would dare come near you. As for your enemies, why, they are as nothing to you. You could whistle at them and they would sink into swamp mud."

He gave her a quizzical smile. "You believe I am that good?"

"Don't toy with me, prince. I am not one of your women, eager to fall at your feet, praising your skills."

"I can see you at my feet," he said. "I can see my hands sifting through your hair whilst you are there before me." He could also see her coming up on her knees, see her hands touching him, see himself in her mouth, and he nearly expired on the spot. By all the ancient G.o.ds who ate men's flesh, he would spill his seed right here in front of her if he didn't get himself under control. He focused on her, on that exquisite face of hers, and realized he didn't want to look away. He'd wanted her for so very long, perhaps even forever. Such wild red hair she had, long down her back, braided in the front with white ribbons. Hair red enough to burst into flames. He smiled at that, and said, "Would you like to?"

"Like to what?"

"Fall at my feet and praise my skills? Perhaps you could also vow eternal devotion to me? Mayhap do other things as well?"

"I am your equal, prince. I do whatever I wish to do. But you refuse to accept that, don't you? I must be your slave, bow deep to you. Let you put your foot on my neck."

"My equal? Well, you did get away from me, Brecia. You were lying there on the altar I created for you. Such a beautiful slab of stone. You looked remarkably beautiful lying on it. I would have liked to whisk away your clothes and have you stretched out there on the bluestone and I would come over youa""

Brecia's eyes nearly crossed. "You arrogant son of a witch's cursed alliance! Think you I would ever willingly mate with you?"

"Oh, yes," he said. "Oh, yes. You know that we are meant to mate, Brecia. Why do you fight me? I don't wish to make you my slave. Actually, I believe I should prefer your foot on my neck. You have lovely feet, Brecia, not like the ghosts, whose toes are far too long."

He was not acting the way he should. He was different. She was tempted to blink at this idiocy from a powerful wizard's mouth, but she didn't. She held firm. He was probably playing a game with her. Since she didn't have her wand, it could lead to bad things. On the other hand, he didn't have his wand, either. Were they equal in power? She didn't know. She said, "I don't like you, prince. I wish you to leave my forest. I don't know how you managed to find me, but it doesn't matter. Leave. I don't wish to see you again."

He laughed, held out his hand to her. "You will never bore me. Never. Come, Brecia, it is just the two of us. A man and a woman. Forget our skills, our magic, our sense of what is of this world and what is not. Come with me."

He was different, she thought yet again, staring at him, staring at that hand of his, and she didn't know what to do. She'd believed he was the most beautiful man in all the earth until she'd realized what he really was, what he really wanted, and that had been to take her and to take a wife as well. He was a wizard who wanted a son by hera"and not just another wizard, but the most powerful wizard the world had ever seen. He would destroy her and her sacred grove and all her people in his quest to mate with her, if he deemed it necessary.

But then again, he seemed different. It knocked her off balance. When she'd come across him sleeping as soundly as if he'd still been in his mother's womb, she'd stared down at him, not really wanting to look away, but then he'd awakened. She'd expected him to try to enchain her immediately, to overwhelm her. But he hadn't. She still didn't move. "Where do you want me to come with you?"

He looked thoughtful at that. "I suppose I must retrieve my wand first, yours as well, then we will go to my fortress atop the Balanth promontory."

"I have never been there before. I hear it is frightening, so tall that if a mortal falls, he dies."

"No, it is merely my home. It's true that the fortress stretches not only to the heavens, but also to the shadows deep in the earth beneath the promontory, but it is for protection. You would be safe there forever, with me. I haven't yet had a mortal fall into the lower reaches." He paused a moment, frowned. "I cannot remember if a mortal has ever even seen Balanth. It was not designed for a mortal's eyes."

"No."

"Neither is your fortress. I didn't see it until you unveiled it to me."

She waved that away. "How came you to be here?"

He frowned a moment, scratched his head. Ah, she loved that black, black hair of his, thick and long. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d. "I suppose I must have been searching for you. As you know, when you disappeared, I was nearly beyond anger." He raised his hand. "Nay, listen to me. You know I didn't roast any of your ancient ghosts over their campfires. I didn't send them hurtling into an uncertain pocket of s.p.a.ce to gasp out their breaths and wiggle their naked toes."

"No," she said slowly, frowning. "You did not even try to do that. I saw you turn away from the bluestone and yell, yell very loudly, your voice so strong that the blue smoke dissolved and re-formed like clouds in a mortal sky over your head. And then you walked out of my fortress. My people and I watched you go, watched your anger simmer in the very air, turning it red as a human heart."

"You believe that I merely became tired and lay down here, built no fire to warm me, and fell asleep?"

"It would seem so. But your wand is gone, prince. No wizard is safe when his wand is gone."

19.

SHE SEEMED DISTURBED that his wand was gone. And why was that? He said easily, "Your wand is gone as well, Brecia. Surely you can feel by now that I don't have it."

She withdrew into deep silence, and he knew she was worried, about both their wands. It meant an enemy. It meant Mawdoor. Finally she said, "I know you don't have it, d.a.m.n you to demon's h.e.l.l. You slept while Mawdoor took both our wands. That bespeaks a fine mind and a keen awareness."

He looked thoughtful, then shrugged. "At first I thought you had somehow gotten it back from me yourself. But I see that you haven't. Is that why you searched for me, Brecia? You wanted your wand back?"

She turned her head a bit, and red hair curtained her cheek as she nodded. "Perhaps that was part of it. I must have my wand back, as you must have yours. Do you know where they are?"

He didn't say anything.

"Without his wand, a wizard is in very big trouble."

"As is a witch," he said, but he didn't seem all that concerned.

"A witch has more tools, I've discovered, than a wizard."

He said without hesitation, "That is nonsense, Brecia."

She said nothing to that, surely that was another strangeness. He would swear she was looking at him differently, as if he were somehow not himself, but another, and that d.a.m.ned other found more favor with her.

She shook her head at him, not understanding why he was acting so differently, why he hadn't tried to tie her to a tree and force her to mate with him, why he hadn't told her she would do exactly what he wanteda"she knew he didn't need his wand to do that, did he? She'd been a fool to come to him and look down at him whilst he slept. A fool to believe he somehow still had her wand, when she'd known, all the way to the soles of her sandals, that he didn't have his own.

She said, "Mawdoor has our wands."

He nodded. "Ah, so you have dealings with that wizard."

"He lives close by. It's impossible not to have dealings with him. And there's more."

"What? What more?"

She shook her fist toward an oak tree, and the prince would swear that the tree shuddered. "Say it or you'll choke," he said.

"He wants to wed me."

The prince threw back his head and laughed loud and deep. He sobered quickly, gave her an insolent grin. "I don't think that will happen."