Secrets of the Night Special Edition, page 58
Arms outstretched, she drifted toward Moytura, the buildings, spires, and monuments spread out below. Although it was the deepest part of night, everything had an eerie glow, as if lit from within. Tree branches tossed in a cold wind, and dust blew along the cobblestones. Here and there, a vagrant wandered the lonely streets, the taverns alive with talk and laughter.
The clop, clop of horses' hooves jerked her attention to Warehouse Street, and she gravitated downward, seeking refuge in an alley that separated two large warehouses. With the cavalry in the lead, mounted officers, their plumed bronze helmets gleaming in the moonlight, rode alongside hundreds of soldiers who trod past. Marching two abreast, the soldiers spoke in low tones. Above the clink of armor, she clearly heard every word, as though they shouted from the rooftops.
"--get us out of the way."
"King's afraid of a mutiny."
"And well he should be. Haven't had leave . . ."
". . . build winter barracks."
". . . fight Elegia."
The soldiers trooped northward, clad in winter uniforms of a black wool tunic and trousers, black leather boots. Each carried a shield, a javelin resting on his shoulder with a bundle attached to it. This bundle, Keriam had learned long ago, held spare clothing, food rations, and eating utensils. Archers marched with the others, and besides the bundle, each carried a quiver over his shoulder. Horse-drawn wagons rumbled past, laden with tents, blankets, and all necessary supplies. The soldiers' ages ranged from fifteen to forty, Keriam guessed. Half in and half out of the vast wooden building, she stayed motionless until the soldiers marched past.
She must tell Roric her news.
Mounted on his chestnut, Fintan Davies rode alongside his men, on the way to the northern part of the country to build barracks and prepare for a war with Elegia. As if Elegia posed a threat to Avador! Only Balor could concoct such a lie and expect the people to believe it.
And a revolt of the army? Ah, yes, that threat was real, at least among the two disaffected battalions headed north. Only look at how Balor had promoted his favored friends over more deserving members of these two battalions, making them generals when they couldn't even wield a sword.
Leaving Moytura behind, the soldiers marched along the Bearn Gap through the Orn Mountains, keeping to the west of the Gorm Forest. Here and there, clusters of trees dotted the rocky cliffs. More a path than a road as it wound through the woods, the pass left enough room for two men to march abreast.
As his horse skirted the oaks and hemlocks, Davies's mind spun in different directions, his thoughts on Roric Gamal. Where was Gamal now? If he, Fintan, could instigate a mutiny--and that remained a question--Gamal was the one to contact. But Roric Gamal and Conneid Delbraith had escaped the palace some time ago. He recalled a time long past, when the major had spoken of his family in one of the southern provinces. Had Roric returned to his family? Possibly, but not likely. No, he would stay near the capital, if only from a sense of duty. It wasn't like Gamal to avoid responsibility, to shirk his duty when the country needed him. And the country needed him, indeed.
Davies glanced to the east, to the forbidding Gorm Forest, a sinister land of mystery and monsters. Would Roric Gamal go there? Did monsters really inhabit the forest, or was that only a tale to frighten children? If no monsters lived in the forest, it was a good place to seek refuge.
Fintan Davies's incisive thinking led him to another quandary. Was there a connection between Roric's disappearance and that of the princess? Now that was an interesting possibility. If he found one of them, would he find the other? But did the princess still live? The last he'd heard, the druids had accused her of witchcraft, a charge no doubt initiated by the king, and one in which she'd been found innocent. The Goddess herself had appeared before the people to proclaim her innocence, a miracle everyone still talked about.
To think Balor held the throne! Men were out of work, the people starving. And a fiend ruled the country, one who cared nothing about his subjects, nor the soldiers in his army. The people could not endure Balor much longer, could not continue to suffer such hardship that prevailed in the kingdom now.
One thing Fintan knew: he must contact Roric Gamal.
* * *
"I saw them, major," Princess Keriam said the following morning. Her breath frosted in the cold air, and a strong wind blasted from the north, bending tree limbs. Storm clouds clustered in the distance. She wrapped her cloak closer about her. "Hundreds of soldiers."
"Heading north, you say?"
"Yes, I heard them talking about building winter quarters close to the border with Elegia."
Roric pursed his lips. He and the princess stood within the shelter of a tall spruce. A cold current rippled the waters of the river a few yards away. How he wanted to hold her close in his arms to warm them both, but what would she think of him then? She was the princess, for the Goddess’s sake, and he was her servant. She’d sought him out a few minutes ago, having found him outside, chopping a tall spruce. All the adult outlanders were involved in the same task , and the ringing of axes resounded through the forest, everyone preparing for the winter. Just look at how much firewood we need for the coming winter, he thought, gazing around the settlement, something he’d never had to worry about. Even children had their own special tasks, gathering cut firewood and setting the wood inside the caves, making a game out of their chores, seeing who could make the largest pile.
Surprised at her news, Roric rested the axe against a tree trunk and wiped the back of his hand across his perspiring forehead. Despite the cold weather, sweat beaded his forehead. “This was late at night?" he asked.
She gave him a level look, a slight smile on her face. "Spirit travel. Happens only when I sleep." The wind whipped her hair across her face, and she shoved the strands aside. Shivering, she hugged her arms under her cloak.
"Ah, yes." He paused, thinking hard. "But you don't know where on the northern border they're heading."
"No, but I'll attempt to discover the location." She smiled. "Spirit travel again. However, it's not something that I can just call up whenever I want to. Often I may go more than a nineday between my nocturnal trips. Sometimes it happens unexpectedly, and other times no amount of willpower will bring it on. But I’ll do my best." Her expression hardened. “I must find out.”
"That's all I ask, princess. But one thing I will say--not much time remains before the winter snows arrive. And when heavy snows come, mounted travel will be very difficult, if not impossible." He rested his hand against the tree trunk, his hand brushing against sharp needles. "The border with Elegia is rugged, not many places for constructing winter quarters. But there are a few places I can think of--Mag Rath--do you know where that is?"
"I've been there, major."
"Yes, of course. And Clondalkin?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"There's not much of Avador I don't know, sir."
"Yes, well . . . So there are two places you can investigate. Uisnech, also. The rest of the northern terrain is too mountainous for barracks."
"Even if you can lure these men away from Balor," she asked, "how can they possibly defeat his army?" Depression weighed her down, a heavy load she often wondered if she could ever dislodge.
"They–we--can't defeat him in a pitched battle. Assuming I can persuade these men to join me, we will have to use hit and run tactics." Frowning, he stared down at the ground, then quickly looked up again, not wanting her to catch his doubts. One problem after another rampaged through his head. Here he was, a fugitive from Balor and stuck in the Gorm Forest, as much a prisoner as if he were confined to a cell, and no hope of release from his prison, let alone any chance of conquering the fiend.
Her face fell. "Hit and run? How can those tactics work against Balor's disciplined army?"
"Such strategies often work quite well,” he said with more optimism than he felt. “Better than doing nothing." Yet she expressed his own misgivings. Would career soldiers be willing to employ such a strategy? And if they did, would these tactics work?
Nothing in life was easy; he'd learned that long ago. And nothing ever worked out as planned, another lesson in life. Nevertheless, he had to try, had to make contact with these disgruntled elements and lure them away from Balor. And he must help Keriam, this woman who meant so much to him, this woman he wanted to hold next to his heart, tell her all he’d kept hidden inside for so long. But his hopes and dreams would forever remain an impossibility. He must focus only on defeating Balor and placing Keriam on the throne.
This is what he planned to do. This he would do . . . or die trying.
Chapter Thirty-one
"The village of Uisnech," Keriam told Roric a few days later inside her cave. "I went first to Mag Rath and saw nothing there except the village itself. But hundreds of tents are spread out to the west of Uisnech, not far from the village. Many felled trees. Barracks should be going up soon, I imagine."
"And the soldiers?" Roric asked, his mind absorbing this information.
"All sleeping, sir. This was the middle of the night."
"Ah, yes. I forgot." He smiled her way across the small fire in her cave, a fire that did little to dispel the cold, obliging them both to wear bear robes. Damn Balor! The princess should be at Emain Macha now, where she belonged, with servants to attend her needs and fireplaces to keep her warm. Even in her crude deerskin clothing, she looked lovely, a woman any man would desire. And he desired her, he realized with a sense of hopelessness, this woman so far above him and so far out of reach. Firelight flickered between them, shadows playing across the walls. With an inward sigh, he brought his mind back to the kingdom. "Too bad you can't spirit travel during the day, princess."
Her slender fingers smoothed over her fur robe. "I've always considered my special talents a curse. After healing Lina, I know I can use my abilities for good. If I can help you--and the kingdom--by using my powers, then I should think of them as a blessing. However, night travel is enough, major."
"I can well understand that, madam.”
She smiled then, a smile that helped erase, if only for a short while, all the worries that had besieged him for more moonphases that he cared to count.
"I don't feel much like a princess now," she said, indicating her dark cave with a wall of bearskins at its entrance. "Why don't you call me Kerry, as my father always did."
He sucked in a breath. "I could hardly call you that, madam. You are the princess, the heir to the throne. In only a few moonphases, you'll be queen." Let it be so.
"Then as queen," she said with another smile, "I shall condemn you to the dungeon if you don't call me Kerry."
He spread his hands. "I have no choice, do I?"
She shook her head. "No choice."
"Then, pr--uh, Kerry, you must call me Roric."
"I've always liked that name," she said, a moment of silence ensuing. "Well! Now that we have that little problem settled, perhaps we should move on to weightier matters. I know better than to dismiss the question of Balor. How do you propose to fight him?"
"I won't lie to you, pr--Kerry. It won't be easy. What I'm aiming for is to gather all the disgruntled elements in the army and persuade them to defeat Balor. In truth, the only men the usurper can depend on is the elite guard."
"Fierce soldiers, intensely loyal to him."
"True, but there are many more men in the army who I feel are ready to revolt. You discovered that yourself when you saw the soldiers marching north. If I can contact some of these men and build on their dissatisfaction, that's a good beginning."
"And from there?"
"From there, I'm hoping the entire populace will eventually rebel." He raised a hand. "Yes, I know I'm being optimistic, but I've heard the people's complaints. I don't think they'll put up with the fiend much longer."
She drew her robe closer around her shoulders, the gesture spawning a myriad of wishes inside him, to take her in his arms and keep her warm for all the nights they would share. Her words jerked him back to the moment. "But any action must wait until spring."
"Any military action," he said. "I intend to leave for Uisnech tomorrow, see if I can contact any of my former men. If I find one, I'll sound him out, discover how he feels about a revolt. We have a long way to go from there, but as you say, it's a start."
"You're taking a big chance. What if they return you to Balor?"
"I know whom I can trust. I'll reconnoiter the encampment, see how many of my former men are there. For all I know, there may not be any." He gave her a quick smile. "Don't worry. I've learned to employ a bit of ingenuity. But it may be two ninedays or so before I return."
"I'll miss you." Kerry bit her lower lip. "What I mean is, I've enjoyed these talks with you."
"So have I. And I'll miss you, Kerry." I can never tell you how much. And suddenly, he wasn't sitting across from her any longer, but had moved next to her, as though his body had a will of its own.
"Kerry?" Roric looked into her eyes then, hoping to see that her need matched his, that she wanted him as much as he desired her.
“Ah, Roric!”
He reached for her, needing to hold her close as he'd yearned to for so long. Willingly, she went to him, her body close to his. First tossing their robes aside, he drew her into his arms, and all but cried with pleasure. His every heartbeat, every breath revealed how much he desired her, a deep and aching thirst that pulsed throughout his body. He kissed her passionately, a kiss that conveyed all his pent-up longing. Feathering kisses on her forehead, cheeks, and the hollow of her throat, he whispered her name again and again. She responded, returning kiss for kiss, drawing him ever closer, her breasts pressed to his body. He never wanted the kiss to end, never wanted the night to end. Pressing ever closer, he eased her down on the cave floor, his body stretched out beside her.
Ah, to make her his own! To become one with her and know all the joys her supple body promised. He kissed her again and again, as if he could never get enough. Driven by a desperate yearning he could no longer deny, he touched her body, from her breasts to her stomach and hips. His fingers caressed that most secret part of her, touching, probing, watching her face by the firelight.
“Ah, Kerry!” He wanted her as he had never craved anything in his life, aching to join his body with hers, to satisfy this longing that had taunted him for so long. He had to have her, had to take her now! He could not bear to wait any longer.
She moaned, and reality hit him like a blast of icy wind. There could never be anything between them. She was the future queen, and he was but her loyal servant. With every willpower he possessed, he drew back, a deep ache inside him, his body on fire. His breath came in gasps, and he didn’t know how he could bear this unfulfilled passion, this throbbing inside him.
Keriam blinked her eyes open. "Roric?" She reached for him, but he eased her hands away. “Don’t do this to me!”
Fierce disappointment sent his spirits plummeting, as if all the joys of life, everything wonderful this life had to offer, had been denied him. A dull ache settled inside him, a need he feared with always remain unfulfilled. "I fear I forgot myself. Forgive me, madam."
"Stop calling me that! Why did you stop when we . . . when we--"
"When we both wanted to make love?" He raised himself on his elbow, looking down into her eyes, and saw his own need reflected in hers. "And then what, Kerry? You'll be queen some day, and I . . . I intend to return to Mumhain, see my family again, then hire myself out as a mercenary," he said, the last declaration a sudden decision, although he'd considered such employment. He breathed deeply, trying to forget all they’d relinquished, all the joy that would never be theirs to share.
He sat up, then helped raise her, wrapping the bear robe about her shoulders, drawing it close around her body. It took all his willpower to drop his hands when all he wanted was to let his fingers linger on her shoulders and feel her warm breasts, to discover all the beautiful secrets of her body.
"I fear I forgot myself, too." She brushed strands of hair from her face and tucked them behind her ears. A look of resolve captured her face, prompting him to wonder if she felt the same despair as he. “You must miss your family."
"Very much." A painful silence followed, then he rose, drawing his robe about him. "It's getting late. I must arise early tomorrow to set out for Uisnech. Goodnight, Kerry,” he said with a long look her way. Sacred shrine, how could he leave her!
She smiled up at him, a picture he would carry with him on his long trip, one he would remember for the rest of his life. "Goodnight, Roric."
He stooped low at the cave entrance, removing the posts that held the bearskin cover in place and returned them to their former position. After the bearskin wall had closed behind him, Keriam lay back and closed her eyes, reliving every moment of their embrace. She touched her mouth, recalling the feel of his lips on hers and how those lips had aroused her like nothing she’d ever known. She still throbbed from wanting him in her most feminine part, and moisture dampened her dress. To think what they had almost shared, to think they’d come so close to making love! She touched herself there, imagining him inside her, and could hear his voice in her ear, could feel his warm breath on her neck. Ah, Roric, I want you so much! Gladly would she give up the kingdom if she could only live as she wanted to, married to the man she loved. But she'd known all along it was a foolish dream. When had a member of the royal family ever put personal happiness ahead of royal duties?
Still, it had been a nice dream, for the very short time it lasted.
* * *
Three days, Roric fumed as he lay face down on an outcrop of cold limestone, surveying the soldiers in the valley below. Three days he'd stayed hidden in the forest, on a hill overlooking the small village of Uisnech. A sharp rock that jutted up from the ground cut into his thigh, forcing him to change his position. So far, he'd had no luck in recognizing army acquaintances. Even if he did recognize any, could he trust him? Despite his brave words to Kerry, he knew he must tread warily.
