VirtualDesire (11 page)

Vad wanted to laugh at the way she glanced about her and
hugged her arms around her waist, but stifled the temptation.
Temptation.
Aye
. She represented many temptations. “The Gulap range these mountains,
feline, fierce, and black as Samoht’s heart.”

“Remind me not to run into either of them.” She glanced over
her shoulder, anxiety written on her small features.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “A Gulap wants only the
sweetest morsels—you are safe. And also we have snakes, much like the one about
your snake man’s arm.”

“That’s Neil, please.” A cold wind swirled about them. Gwen
gathered her nightgown closer to her legs. “Geez, it’s cold here. I might as
well be naked.”

Naked
. He did not want to think of her naked, either.
“Other creatures you must fear are men. Outcasts range the foothills.”

“You do know how to use that knife, don’t you?”

Vad made an impatient gesture with his hand. “You would do
better to be wary of men rather than the woodland creatures.”

“Slow down. I feel dizzy. Anyone with…any…sense…”

She stopped as if rooted to the hillside. Without a sound,
she fell to her knees. Her eyes rolled up into her skull. Her lips moved, but
no sound came out.

“Gwen?” Vad caught her as she slipped into unconsciousness.
He touched her forehead. It was damp and cold, as were her hands. Gently he
lifted her into his arms.

The rest of the trek down the mountainside took twice as
long as Vad would have liked, and it had nothing to do with the womanly burden
in his arms. Once he needed to backtrack and take another ancient path. Few
feet trod the way to Nilrem’s cave, and the markers were often obscured by lush
vines. The cave was considered sacred. Unless invited, only Nilrem would
venture there.

They were not among the invited. Legend said that only evil
would come to those who intruded. That was why the path was faint and
ill-marked. But he did not believe in legend—not those of Tolemac or those of
Gwen’s place.

Legends were for ignorant slaves, and he was a warrior. He
dealt in life and death, honor and truth. What he wanted from Nilrem was his
wisdom, his common sense, his understanding of the intrigues of the Tolemac
councilors.

He came to a tumble of rocks in the hillside. The rocks were
reddish in color now, not black and gray, as they had been higher on the
mountain. A spray of water erupted from them and became a small stream flowing
down the mountainside. In ancient times such springs, the source of the rivers,
were sacred. When he placed Gwen on the ground, he thought that if such ancient
tales held truth, it was good he had brought her here for revival.

Using the hem of his tunic, he soaked it and touched it to
her cheeks. As he drew the cool cloth over her lips, she moaned and stirred.

“Vad?” she whispered. “Are you trying to get in my bed
again?”

“No, woman. And it was you who tried to get into my bed.”

Gwen sat up and pressed her hands to her temples. “Oh, my
head.” She looked about and up at the brilliant amethyst sky.

He watched tears well in her eyes and down her cheeks.

“I thought it was a dream.”

Vad crouched on his haunches. “We have no time for your
tears.”

She wiped at her cheeks. “Well, I do! I’m thirsty. My head
hurts. I’m in my nightgown in a stupid, purple place.”

“Stupid? Did you not just offer your apology for speaking
thusly to me?” He cupped his hands in the icy water and offered it to her.
“‘Tis typical of a woman. I should have known your words meant nothing. You
withheld the dagger. And now…”

Gwen ignored his outstretched hands and crawled to the low
stream bank. She scooped up the cool water, splashed it on her face, and gulped
it down.

“Sorry. I feel like a petulant child, but I can’t help it. I
was calling this place stupid, not you,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re
still miffed about the dagger. I did apologize. I told you, I thought you were
playing a hoax on me. How was I to know you really were Vad and needed that
knife? Can’t you put that behind you?”

He looked over his shoulder. “What? Put what behind me? You
speak in riddles.”

“It’s an expression that means accept my apology.”

Somehow her words did nothing to assuage the bubbling
irritation he felt. “Your words come too late. Now move.” He took her arm.

She stumbled along with him. They followed the stream
downhill for at least a mile longer. As they hurried along, Gwen paused
repeatedly to exclaim over the delicate ferns and tiny, bright red flowers
nestled by the water’s edge. She asked their names.

“We have no time for lessons,” he said with a grunt as the
forest grew denser, the vines more thickly twisted about trunks and branches.
The terrain sloped more steeply downward.

Finally he halted. Gwen rubbed her arm where he’d held her,
and he thought that although there were many times she’d wanted to free herself
from his grip, there were also many other times she’d welcomed his hold as he
boosted her over roots and jerked her out of the way of low branches.

“Are you recovered yet?” he asked as she swayed and stumbled
for the tenth time.

“Things are a little blurry still, and my head pulses with
every step, but don’t let that hold you up.”

The stream disappeared into a hillside covered with thick
vines. Vad drew his long blade and hacked at the foliage. A maw of darkness
appeared. It grew as he chopped and slashed. The stream did not end, but looked
like it flowed into the hill.

She planted her feet in the soft, muddy bank. “That’s a
slit, not a cave. I’m not going in there.”

He sighed. “You will find it opens up almost immediately,
once inside…or so they say.”

“Who’s ‘they’? Elves?”

His eyes narrowed. “Elves? What are elves?”

“Little magical people.”

“We have small people, but they have no special powers.”

He reached out and skimmed his thumb over her cheek, rubbing
at a red spot high on her cheekbone. She sighed, the sound stirring a memory of
the small sigh she’d given in response to his kiss. “I am sorry you are cold. I
will give you my tunic.”

Her small hands wrapped around his, preventing him from
unbuckling his knife sheath. “No, absolutely not. You can’t give me your shirt.
You’ll freeze.”

The heat of her hands held his immobile. A mad desire to
clasp her hands tightly against his belly swept through him, but then she
jerked them away and pressed her fingertips to her temples.

“Your head still troubles you, does it not? That is why you
are so—”

“Peevish? Irritable? Cranky?” She smiled up at him. It cost
her greatly, he saw. “Yes, my head still aches, but now my feet hurt, too. I’ll
try not to be so cranky.”

“Cranky. I like the word. It is hard-edged, just like you.”
Then he turned to the cave, using his blade to hack away the remaining vines
and ferns and put the touch of her hands from his mind. “I fear all this growth
indicates that Nilrem has not visited his cave in many conjunctions.”

Gwen stood on a flat rock and peered into the shadows over
his shoulder. “Look, isn’t that light in there?”

Vad sheathed his knife. Before Gwen could protest, he
hoisted her into his arms and stepped cautiously into the shallow, running
water. It swirled in chilly rapids nearly to his knees, seeped into his boots,
crept with icy talons into his composure. He turned sideways and eased his way
past the cut vines. Gwen bit off a small scream as the cave claimed them.

For several moments he stared forward into the gloom,
putting aside his hatred of dark, dank places, seeking a glimmer of light. As
his eyes adjusted, he saw it—an exit from the cave, curving off to the right on
the far side of a huge cavern.

“Loosen your hold, woman,” Vad said, his mouth to her ear
lest his words echo about the chamber and alert whatever creatures, human or
otherwise, inhabited the place. Her stranglehold eased.

The rush of water filled the small space. Rock surrounded
them, inches from his shoulders and head.

The light in the distance grew and swelled, and they merged
in a large, cavernous room lit by the opening in the opposite side through
which the stream exited.

Long, jagged dripstones hung from the ceiling. Lines of blue
traced the walls like veins in an arm. “No wonder Nilrem treasures this spot
for contemplation. ‘Tis filled with the sacred stone and must offer him its
power.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in magic?”

“The power of a stone is not magic,” he said with a shrug.
“Its possession, just for the mere pleasure of rubbing its smoothness between
one’s fingers, can ease tension. And the stone does take on different hues
depending on the wearer’s health—that surely is not magic.”

“Point taken.” She rested her head on his shoulder, an
intimacy he did not want. He dropped her to her feet with no warning, but she
made no protest, merely rubbed her arms and crouched down by his side as he
stirred the ashes of a fire long gone cold.

He shook his head. “Nilrem has not been here in a very long
time. There is no other entrance from his side of the mountain, either.”

“Where does that opening go?” She pointed to where the
stream flowed toward a bright, coppery light.

He shrugged. “Out.”

She frowned at him. “Of course. But where is out?”

Gwen had difficulty keeping her temper. A few moments ago he
was offering her the shirt off his back; now he was stiff and formal. His few
smiles were quickly swallowed. This was not the man who’d kissed her with such
passion at the ball. This was more like the man who had so cuttingly told her
he did not wish her in his bed. Why did that thought raise a lump in her throat
when she didn’t want him in hers, either?

She much preferred the man at the ball. He would care that
she was out of place and underdressed. She shivered. Dampness seeped into her
mismatched shoes. They walked toward the light. As the cavern widened, a small
beach of stones revealed itself, allowing them to walk on dry ground. There was
a cathedral quality to the space. Even the stream seemed to have quieted as it
flowed along. The high ceiling disappeared in black shadows overhead. How high
it was, Gwen could not say. She tried to imagine an elderly wise man
contemplating philosophy in such a place and succeeded. It was as filled with
reverence as a church. The veins of turquoise and the gentle light held her
mesmerized.

Vad raised a hand, cautioning her to silence, and drew his
knife.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

“I think I heard a man’s voice—not Nilrem’s.” With a quick
nod in the direction of the cave’s exit, he crept toward the gleam of light—and
whatever lay outside. She followed him, holding her nightgown high to prevent
the hem from dragging in the watery puddles scattered about the cavern’s floor.

They moved quietly along the curving, rocky wall. Ahead loomed
a huge opening, decorated with hanging foliage. Light from the red sun bore
down from above and dazzled the eyes. The stream widened and flowed from the
cave’s mouth in an amethyst glitter, touched with sparkles of red. Gwen
shielded her eyes.

The far bank was a tangle of trees, festooned with deep
green vines.

Out of the verdant shadows stepped a woman. “Selaw,” Vad
said, and pushed Gwen behind him.

Garbed in a long, green cloak, edged with purple and gold
embroidery, the woman glided forward to stand at the stream’s edge. Her face
was but a suggestion in the shadow of her hood.

Gwen could feel the tension emanating from Vad’s body.

“Stay back and be silent.”

Gwen was about to bite off a retort about men who gave
orders when she saw that the woman was not alone. Three men, garbed in green
like the woman, emerged from the shadows behind her. They flanked her. She
lifted a hand and they remained where they stood.

The men were dressed in cross-gartered trousers, long
tunics, and cloaks all in shades of green—and each held a long bow, with arrows
nocked for flight. They blended well with the surrounding foliage. Gwen
swallowed. There was something rather deadly about an arrow when it was pointed
right at you, she thought.

The woman swept off her hood. “Do you also seek the wise
man?” the woman asked. Her voice was low and melodic. Her words carried well
across the wide stream. The sun painted a reddish gleam on the dark blonde hair
that tumbled about her shoulders.

“What I seek is my business. What do you want here?” Vad
held his knife loosely by his hip.

“He has no sword,” one of the men in green said to the
woman. “We can—”

The woman lifted her hand, and the man fell silent. With
another quick gesture from her, the men lowered their bows.

“You appear to be a warrior,” the woman said. “You wear the
Tolemac colors, but do not bear a sword. Why?”

“What need have the Selaw of Nilrem?” asked, ignoring her
question.

“Even the Selaw have matters of concern that are outside the
province of our healers and priests.”

“That’s no answer,” Gwen said in a hiss at Vad’s shoulder.

His shoulder twitched. ‘The Selaw are not welcome here.”

The men moved closer to the woman. They stood in deep,
sylvan shadow, their intent hidden, their protection obvious.

The woman made a small gesture with her hand, and the men
stepped back. Her cloak skimmed the grass as she moved gracefully forward to
stand on the edge of the opposite bank, still protected by her guardian
archers. “Nilrem has always made me welcome.” She lifted her arm. Gwen tensed
for some signal to fire, but instead the woman opened the throat of her cloak
and pulled out a long silver chain that ended in a lump of turquoise. “A gift
from the wise man.”

Vad nodded. “Come forward to the cave—alone.”

The woman tipped her head and stared at Vad for a moment,
then nodded. She turned to her companions and spoke softly, then walked along
the stream bank to a spot where erosion had cut a path to the stony beach of
the stream, lifted her skirts, and stepped delicately down the incline. Her
path took her to the water’s edge. There she untied her low green boots, set
them on a stone, lifted her skirts to mid-calf, and stepped into the water.

Gwen thought of a water nymph, or a green swan come to life.
In a few moments the woman had reached Gwen’s side of the stream, where she
dropped her hem.

She and Vad joined the woman, but not before Vad assured
himself her men were still standing on the far bank.

As though reading Vad’s mind, the Selaw woman spoke. “They
would not think to disobey me.”

“Why does a woman of the Selaw seek a Tolemac wise man?”

“First,” she said, “who are you?”

“Who are you?” Vad countered.

“I am called Ardra.”

“What need has a Selaw woman with a Tolemac wise man?” he
asked again.

The woman paced back and forth at the cavern entrance. The
coppery light shone on her long tresses, which cascaded from her shoulders
nearly to her waist. Her stride was so graceful, she seemed to float. Her face
was a pale oval, her brows delicately arched, her cheekbones high and
patrician, her lips full and sensuous. She reminded Gwen of someone advertising
ski holidays in the Alps, except for one stunning feature that set her apart
from most other women—her amber eyes.

Gwen wondered if it was her eyes that had immediately told
Vad the woman was Selaw and not Tolemac. She came to a halt in front of Vad.
“The help I need cannot be found in Selaw. There is peace between your people
and mine now. I had hoped we might extend that peace to helping one another.”
She tucked her hands up into her sleeves and began to pace again. “I have come
far and have little time. If Nilrem has gone on a wander, I am in grave
trouble.”

“Can you help her?” Gwen asked Vad, who impaled her with a
dark glare. “Well, you could try to help her, couldn’t you?”

“I am grateful for your offer,” the Selaw woman said with a
breathiness to her voice that bespoke her agitation.

Vad shook his head. “My companion speaks too quickly. I have
my own duties of which I must think, and my own time is short.”

The woman bowed her head. A look of sorrow crossed her face,
then was quickly masked. “I see.” She turned and went to the stream. Again she
lifted her hem to wade across.

“Wait,” Gwen cried. “At least tell us what your problem is.”

“Gwen!” Vad hooked her arm and dragged her into the shadows.
“I must get to the capital and confront the councilors. I have no time for
women in distress. I must… Oh, by the sword…” He stomped in a circle, then
called to the woman, “Come back.”

She quickly waded back into the cave entrance and out of her
men’s line of sight. “You wear the colors of the Tolemac army, and the gold on
your uniform is a symbol of leadership. Surely you can help me.”

Gwen eyed Vad as he nodded. She hadn’t thought of his
embroidery as anything beyond decoration. She’d have to have a word with the
man who’d written the
Tolemac Wars II
manual. It was sadly lacking in
detail.

Vad crossed his arms over his chest. “First, who are your
ancestors?”

“I am called Ardra. My father is Ruonail of the Fortress of
Ravens.”

“Ruonail? I know of him. Your father holds vast lands in
Selaw. Some say to the detriment of his people.”

Ardra nodded her head. “In the past he was thoughtless on
occasion, but now he is…cruel. It is for him I have come…and for my people.”

“What changed him?” Gwen felt left out when they ignored her
questions. There was nowhere dry to sit in the cave. Her legs quivered with
sudden fatigue.

“But how could I, a Tolemac warrior, help a Selaw chief?”
Vad asked.

“My father is a powerful chief, controlling the mining of
the ice. He has great influence in Selaw, but it is the influences on him I
fear.”

Gwen felt a prickle of apprehension as Ardra continued.
Beneath Ardra’s serene appearance Gwen sensed a turmoil of emotions.

Ardra continued. “A man first appeared more than four
conjunctions ago. He comes and goes, sometimes staying for several sun-risings,
other times from feast day to feast day. It is his influence over my father
that I fear. Until this man, Narfrom by name, arrived, my father was for the
peace between our people and yours.”

“And now?” Vad prompted.

Her pacing grew more agitated. “Now Narfrom controls my
father’s every thought. He has convinced my father that our people will be
richer and more powerful without the Tolemac peace. Narfrom claims we made a
mistake exchanging the ice for food.”

“Ice?” Gwen said.

“Yes.” Ardra looked Gwen up and down, as if she were seeing
her clearly for the first time. Her gaze lingered on her hair. “We Selaw stand
between Tolemac and the ice fields.”

Gwen knew the basics of the politics from the game. Tolemac
wanted the ice. It allowed them to enjoy foods out of season, but she assumed
it was also wanted simply because the Selaw had it and Tolemac didn’t.

Vad added to her thoughts. “The ice fields stand between the
Selaw and the lands beyond. If the legends of those lands are true, then the
Selaw have access to those lands, and Tolemac does not. It behooves us to
negotiate that access.”

Ardra nodded. “I know the peace with Tolemac is good. For
the first time, our people can plan their lives without the constant fear of
invasion. Stop at any settlement now and you will no longer see the seasonal
starvation that prompted so many years of war.”

“Have you talked to your father about your concerns?” Gwen
asked. She linked her arm about Vad’s and leaned on him for support.

The woman looked from Gwen to Vad. “Who is this woman, and
what has happened to her hair?”

“Forgive us,” Vad said. “We have not returned the courtesy
of an introduction. I am called Vad—”

“And I’m Gwen.”

Vad did not even glance in Gwen’s direction or acknowledge
her touch. “She is my business. As to her hair…she was too vain and I decided
to cut it off to tame her spirit.”

Tame me?
Gwen thought.

Ardra shrugged and dismissed Gwen. “Is she trustworthy?
Should we be speaking before her?”

“If there are spies about, they are of Selaw origin.” Vad
put a staying hand on Gwen’s.

The woman weighed Vad’s words. Then her shoulders slumped.
“I must trust your word. I have no one else to turn to.”

“To question a Tolemac warrior’s word is—” Vad began.

“Natural. After all, you don’t even know us,” Gwen quickly
interjected.

“It is as you say. I know you not.” Ardra began to wring her
hands. Some of her stateliness crumbled. “I must trust someone! Why not you?”

“What of your men outside?” Vad asked. He impaled Gwen with
a glare to silence her.

“They are my father’s men. They brought me here at his
behest to secure a sleeping potion. My father is unable to sleep, you see. He
wanders the fortress ramparts hour upon hour. He is aging before my eyes. But
it is not just for a sleeping potion that I have come to Nilrem. I had also
intended to query the wise man on how to break this chain of influence Narfrom
has forged about my father. My men escort me with my father’s blessing, but if
questioned will tell him—and Narfrom—anything they think he needs to know. I
cannot allow them to know my true mission.”

Vad nodded. “My time is limited, as is yours. State your
wishes.”

Ardra glanced about, looked Vad up and down, then just as
carefully inspected Gwen. Finally she took a deep breath. “Narfrom has taken
hostages—the maiden daughters of seven Tolemac councilors—and is holding them
in the fortress.”

“By Nilrem’s beard! And your father does not know?”

“Oh, my father actually took the hostages, but it is Narfrom
who thought of the idea and made the plans. If not for him, my father would
never have thought of such treachery!”

“What madness!”

“Aye. Surely ‘tis a madness to want such power. You men are
all sick with it. You cannot be content to have your small part of the world.
You must have it all.”

Vad bristled.

Ardra swept in agitated circles, her skirts forming a
perfect bell about her legs. “And yet, he is my father—my only family since my
mother died. I love him. Or love the man he was.” She wrung her hands. “I would
not have believed him capable of such treachery a few conjunctions ago. I
thought the wise man might know of some spell Narfrom has cast that has made my
father unable to think clearly, unable to see the folly of his actions. I came
in hopes that Nilrem could break the spell.”

Vad’s voice was gentle. “Nilrem is a man of wisdom. He is
not a witch to cast or uncast spells.”

“You may be right, but it matters not, since he is not here.
I have visited all his places, including climbing to the top of Hart Fell, and
he is gone.”

“Aye. He is gone.” Vad nodded.

Gwen felt an immediate need to pat the woman on the shoulder
and tell her Vad would take care of her. Wherever had that thought come from?

Vad went to the curve of the stream, where he could see
Ardra’s men. He crouched down on his haunches and watched them, but spoke
softly so only the women could hear him. “Has Tolemac launched an attack on
Selaw to regain the maidens?”

“No. The councilors would never let anyone know my father
has their daughters. It would prove the fathers unable to protect their own.”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She took a step toward him and sank to
her knees by his side as if begging.

“Vad?” Gwen caught Ardra before she could fall. Vad did not
move.

Gwen gripped Ardra’s shaking shoulders. “Aren’t they
concerned about their daughters’ safety?”

“Narfrom has promised the maidens’ deaths should the
councilors tell anyone of their abduction.”

With a nod, Vad rose. He propped his shoulder against the
cave wall and shrugged. “It is an age-old means of ensuring compliance. Take a
hostage and it will be easy enough to dictate behavior and decisions. The
hostage is rarely harmed.”

Ardra stayed on her knees, her hands raised in supplication.
Gwen tried in vain to get her to rise.

“You must help me. Narfrom threatened to put a rope about
the maidens’ necks and toss them off the ramparts to hang there for all to see
if the councilors do not obey him. ‘Tis no idle threat. It was done to a
serving boy who dared to defy an order of Narfrom’s. It is why I have hastened
here.”

“And your father’s response to the hanging?” Vad asked.
“Such executions for petty disobedience were banned in Tolemac and, I thought,
Selaw, ages ago.”

“I swear to you my father knew nothing of the order. He is
haunted by the image of the boy—a fetching lad he liked well—and imagines the
maidens’ fate. He will not admit he has lost control of Narfrom. ‘Tis why he
cannot rest. Only some spell of madness could make him behave in such a manner
as to support Narfrom. Please help us. I have little with which to reward you—”

“An honorable warrior does not seek reward.” He shook his
head.

For a moment Gwen thought he might refuse the woman’s plea.

“Think of the maidens,” Ardra begged. “They are but pawns in
the games of men.”