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STILL DAZED BY THE intensity of the kiss, Karst followed Brial into the bright lights of the dance floor. "I know this is your first real festival," she whispered. "Don’t worry about the gifting. We can do that later. For now, just enjoy the music."
The sensuous moves of the dance and Brial in his arms heightened the sensations from her kiss. Even as the music built the desire, the night air cooled it, leaving behind the hint of a lingering warmth. By the time the music ended, he had relaxed and thoroughly enjoyed the dance.
Brial nodded as if she had accomplished her task and led him to the table that had unofficially been designated as hers.
Maybe this time she will accept my gift and we can leave. I don't know how much longer I can wait.
Despite his hopes, she took a sip of chilled juice and whispered a soft, "Wait here, I will be back." Before he could stop her, she was off with Emrys who led her to the planked area.
Karst alternated watching Brial and scanning the crowd for Medraut. Despite the other man being noticeably absent from the normal evening gatherings around the central fire since the wagons had left Nawddmir, Karst knew one thing. Medraut would show up for the gifting festival.
On the far edge of the dance area, he watched Deneas whisper something in Trelleir’s ear, then lead him to the dance floor to merge with those already moving in an intricate design. The next time the music changed, he noticed Brial’s partner was Trelleir.
"Care to dance?"
Deneas’ quiet words from behind him startled Karst. He hadn’t even heard her approach. She leaned in closer. "This might be the last tune of the night, that is if you and Bri want it to be."
A look at Brial laughing in Trelleir’s arms raised a surge of jealousy. Karst fought it down. Trelleir has become a friend and so has Deneas. Why shouldn’t Brial dance with him ... and me with Deneas?
The expression on Deneas’ face said she knew what he was thinking and that she patiently waited for an answer.
Music is music. A partner is a partner, he decided. He crooked an elbow. "I am honored to be your partner." Just as he said that, the tune shifted to a fast tempo.
The wink Deneas gave threw down a challenge. "If you can keep up with me."
Laughing, they walked to the edge of the plank floor and in a moment were whirling in high-stepping circles.
MEDRAUT CLIMBED ONTO the top step of the wagon so that he could have an unimpeded view of the entire area. Blond curls glittering in the moonlight provided the location of his target. Brial stood off to one side sharing a glass of wine with one of her elder kin. She laughed at whatever joke the man said, her lilt heating Medraut’s skin until it felt he walked through the heart of the smoking mountain at the desert’s edge. Her partner shifted position and the lamplight caught his features. The man making time with my woman was the one called Trelleir. The reminder surfaced that the mystery of why Trelleir seemed familiar had not yet been solved.
"It does not matter. Brial will be mine." He jumped down from the wagon on the side away from the light. Long strides carried him through the darkness. I will get the next dance. Before he could climb over the wagon tongue to reach her, Brial had reached the dance floor. Rage filled his frame. "Now she is with Karst? He will not interfere again," came out in a growl.
Determination to be Brial’s next partner fueled his march across the open area. She will dance with me. Three steps took him through the crowd and up to Brial. He dropped a hand on the partner’s shoulder and spun him around. Disappointment soured Medraut’s anticipated fun. It wasn’t Karst, just another one of Brial’s kin. Oh well, Medraut thought. Time for fun anyway. He let the flames show in his eyes. The man dropped Brial’s hand and backed away. "No..o..o." A not so gentle shove had the man backpedaling even faster.
"It appears, Brial, your partner has left you." Medraut put a sensuous edge in his tone. "May I have this dance?"
He smiled at the panicked look on Brial’s face. Feeding on the fear, he savored his strengthened power. Now for the next step. He imagined his magic wrapping around her body, encasing her mind, bending it to his will. "Say ‘Yes’ my love."
A gasp and a ragged, "Yes, m’lord," whispered in his ear.
Fire raced down his back when she responded as ordered. A gentle touch to caress her throat did more than raise his desire. It also silenced her voice. "Can’t have you calling out, now can we?" He knew that for all intents and purposes he appeared to everyone as just another member of the caravan dancing with the most beautiful woman there.
A breath of his magic wrapped a mesmer around them, making them disappear from the dance floor. He considered walking the now-subservient woman right then to the meadows beyond the wagons. "I waited for this dance," he growled. "I plan to have it." He leaned in and close to Brial’s ear hissed, "Then you will give me my gift." As he had so often before, he mentally stripped her, then pictured her dancing just for him wearing nothing but the moonlight.
He took her hand and rubbed a thumb across her palm.
Anguish in her eyes, Brial's lips parted and her throat muscles tightened for a moan, only to have no sound released.
"Now, now, my dear. That is no way to react." The visualization of a glittering crown on her head achieved the desired effect. Her face lost all expression. Silent laughter rippled through Medraut. Now her mind is mine. A smile twitched his lips. And soon so will be her body.
He pictured the musicians and sent a wisp of power in their direction. The drummer slowed the beat. The flutist shifted from foot to foot as if resisting some unheard command. "Play as I ordered. Play now!" went out the mental encouragement. Under the control of the magic, she lifted the flute to her lips and started playing a slow seductive tune.
Instead of taking Brial’s hand like the other couples, he slid his arm behind her back and pulled her tight against him. At his hissed command, Brial lifted her arms around his neck, her breasts rubbing against his chest. His hips swayed in time to the music, building the arousal until his eyes closed.
Tension in the woman warned of a possible break of his control. His eyes peered deep into hers looking for signs of rebellion. When there was none, he dropped his hand lower.
Sharp pain ran down Medraut’s arm causing it to hang lifeless. Talons raked his back tearing a scream from his throat and dropping him to his knees. Someone tore Brial out of his grasp. "No," he gasped. "She is mine."
Iron grips on his arm yanked him to his feet. The same force brutally twisted his arms behind his back.
"Release me," he croaked. If anything, the pain increased. He accessed the power of his true form and threw the full strength of a dragon against his captors. But, no matter how hard he struggled, he remained in the unyielding grasp.
The screech of winged fury rang in his ears, even as he registered the black shape diving at him, Medraut buckled his knees in an attempt to protect his face. Razor-sharp talons missed his eyes, only to rake across his shoulder. More lines of fire added to the throbbing agony filling his body. Hot blood flowed down his back. The dark shape at the edge of his vision dropped down. This time if felt like a dozen blades raked his body until Medraut’s throat muscles locked in an inhuman moan.
A harsh, "Tywyll, enough. Your mistress is safe," was barely heard over the roaring of blood in his ears.
When no one stopped his abduction, Medraut cursed the traders. He tried to yell, to be rewarded with a blow to the head.
"Hush. You don’t want to ruin everyone’s party." Frantic twists and jerks failed to break the hold pulling him along and he was dragged past wagon after wagon.
Then blackness.
WORRIED CROONS ACCOMPANIED Brial’s awareness of her surroundings. After a few moments, she realized control of her mind had also returned. She started to push away the arms around her to be stopped by Karst’s anxious, "It’s me, Brial. Only me." His voice caught. "I am sorry. Two old biddies cornered me for an interrogation about Gabha. I couldn’t get away. I looked, but you were nowhere to be found. I didn’t even know you were in trouble until Tywyll screamed."
Rapid blinking cleared her vision enough to reveal his worried face and the unshed tears in his eyes. Deneas hovered behind him before dropping to her knees at his side. Beyond them was no crowd of onlookers nor the line of food tables. Someone had carried her from the dance area to the other side of the wagons. Music, although fainter than before, could still be heard. Orange eyes showed where Tywyll perched on the wagon tongue. The bright color and the speed by which the irises whirled indicated the helwr’s agitated state.
"Guhhhh." Brial tried to tell them what happened, about the flames in Medraut’s eyes. No matter how hard she tried only incomprehensible guttural sounds came out of her mouth.
Although she didn’t know what the look Deneas shot to Karst meant, his expression darkened. "I will kill Medraut."
"There will be time for that later." Although her voice was soft, Deneas’ tone held a hard edge. "Trelleir is dealing with Medraut for now."
One by one the words formed a comprehension of the interplay between Karst and Deneas. They knew what had happened ... and by whom. Relief dissipated the dark cloud of fear clutching at Brial’s mind. The need to warn them about Medraut, to tell them what happened lessened.
Eyes closed, she used the blackness behind her eyelids to bury the image of flames in red irises. A deep breath cleared the rest of the fog blocking her thoughts. But her muscles refused to obey. No matter how hard she tried, she still could not move.
A hand she recognized as Deneas’ came into view, then she felt the pressure of the other woman’s hand on her head. Warmth spread from where the hand lay until Brial felt the healing sensation encompass her entire body.
Deneas shifted back onto her heels and Brial felt her intense scrutiny. "How do you feel now, Bri?"
Instead of "Guhhhh," a weak, "better," came out. More of the ice surrounding her soul melted at the other woman’s smile. "Whaaa?"
The worry in Deneas’ eyes seemed to harden into tight lines. "I don’t exactly know what Medraut did. Trelleir says it was some kind of drug-induced trance. Now that you’ve returned to us, you’ll be fine."
Between one heartbeat and the next, Deneas turned from slayer to comforter. "Relax, Bri, you’re safe. No one except your grandfather knows what happened. He’s been briefed and will control things in the camp if you feel up to going away for a few days. Emrys can care for your hauler beasts." A smile twitched her lips. "Having a quiet rest in the serenity of the woods should help restore your energy." The tilt of her head toward the moonlit meadow told what she meant. "Trelleir will be here shortly with our horses. That is if you want to go. It would be a shame to let the place Karst won in the lottery go to waste."
Brial gasped at the flare in her mind the other woman’s comment sparked.
"We can’t go." Karst’s anger ... and regret came through his tone. "Medraut attacked Brial twice now. What if he tries again?"
Even though she knew Karst couldn’t hear them, she sent quieting thoughts to him.
His angry features calmed and the redness faded. "Weapons are not allowed at the pairing sites. Without our swords we will be at the mercy of any trouble that appears."
The assurance Deneas radiated contrasted with the tension of her body. "Feldt gave us special dispensation." Her smile seemed to encompass her entire face. "He cares a great deal for you Brial. And, he also is fond of Karst. All our weapons are already on the horses. Any other reasons why we can’t leave now?"
"I haven’t presented my gift yet," Karst said. "Brial refused to accept it before. What if she doesn’t want to go away with me?"
Brial reached up to grab Deneas’ hand and pulled herself to a sitting position. A moment later, she stood. The world spun and tilted and she leaned on the other woman until equilibrium returned and the world settled. However, it only emphasized her need. She looked at Karst and her skin burned hotter. Besides the fear and worry in his eyes, she also saw a raw desire that matched hers. She pointed with a finger to where Karst had stashed the small box. "What are you waiting for? Go get it."
BLACKNESS OF A MOONLESS night greeted Medraut’s return to the world. His time sense said only a few candlemarks had passed, not enough to warrant the lack of moonlight. The feel of rough fabric on his face explained the darkness. A shake of his head shifted the blindfold from his eyes. Fire colored his vision red. His body twitched, sending even more pain through his tortured body. With it came flashes of memory, of rough hands dragging him along the ground and the ripping talons of a helwr.
The pain receded and his vision cleared enough to reveal a single beam of light squeezing past shuttered windows.
An attempt to stand up not only brought a repeat of the pain but the realization his legs and hands were bound. Curses filled the room. The ropes were knotted and wrapped in such a way to prevent the use of his dragon strength to break the bonds. Even worse, he could not take on his true form and use fire to break out of the locked wagon.
Idea after idea on how to escape was discarded as soon as it formed.
Casting his senses beyond the walls of his prison revealed not just a single man on duty, but two heavily armed men stood guard. A growl escaped into the room. Neither man was his previous helper.
Rage fueled the contest between sinew and the rope. Summoning his dragon magic, he started the shift into his true form, holding the transformation at bay so the only change was a finger into a razor-sharp talon. A single thread parted, then another until he had one finger free. A slash severed the ropes around his wrists. Three more cuts left the rest of the bindings felled in a pile to the floor.
Two steps took him to the door. “This will not hold me.” The snarl accompanied a kick that exploded the door outward. He leaped through the door landing beyond the steps in a crouch ready to fight. But the guards lay unmoving beneath the debris of the wood panel, lockbar and what had been a table and chairs.
Battle energy fueled the rest of the change. Medraut smiled at the image of a dragon. Reflected in a brass lantern on the ground next to the men. Rocking back on his haunches, he roared in triumph and leaped. Strong wing strokes took him over the camp.
Revenge, he screamed. I want revenge.
His searching gaze found no one dancing. No oldsters laughed around the central fire.
I will burn the wagons with those insolent traders in them. Then I will introduce Karst to a loving touch of flame. After I make him watch Brial become my slave.
Only a trickle of fire flowed over his fangs before he felt the magical connection to Brial fraying. It vanished, cut by some invisible sheers leaving only a trail of tiny snippets falling to the ground.
A bugle of frustration sounded over the field below him. His reward was the panicked squeals of the hauler beasts in the paddock and the sound of heavy bodies destroying fences.
I can torch the wagons or find Brial. A single look at the rapidly fading trail replaced the heat of anger with the hotter one of desire.
Not even the night air flowing over his wings cooled his skin as he winged toward the not-so-distant woods.
THE UNDULATING HILLS unrolled in the moonlight as a living carpet of light and dark. To Karst, the tall grass and terrain reminded him of the valley of his grandparents’ cabin. He smiled at the memory of his first meeting with Tywyll. The bird didn’t attack, but pecked at the hatch covering the hidden cold storage cellar until it was uncovered so he could get some food. And, he thought, the valley was where Tywyll adopted first me, and then later Brial, as his own.
Memories of the bird’s attack on Medraut raised troubling questions. What will Tywyll do after we reach the glen? He watched the helwr flying across the tall grass. Its passage sent the blades rippling against each other and a hum into the air. Will Tywyll attack me if I try to kiss Brial? Or hold her?
Reason said the helwr had accepted the relationship with Brial. After all, he didn’t attack any of the men she danced with.
A sigh from Brial shifted Karst’s attention from the path ahead to the horse walking alongside him. Brial had such a peaceful expression on her face that Karst felt the serenity of the night was working on her. Hopefully, it would ease the memory of Medraut’s actions and his plans for her.
The thought of Medraut returned the anger from the attack on Brial. Nothing can be done until our return. Deep breaths forcibly pushed any thought of the other man out of his mind.
He gave her hand a squeeze. She smiled and tightened her clasp in response. Ever since they had left the wagons, their horses walked so close that he was able to hold her hand. And I plan on doing that all night.
The soft swish of a body moving through the grass had him grabbing for his belt knife until he realized the sound was Deneas’ and Trelleir’s horses, who followed a short distance back.
The grass ended at a tree-lined lane, wide enough to ride two abreast. Unwilling to break the serenity of the ride, or he admitted the comfort from holding Brial’s hand provided, they rode hand in hand beneath the arched canopy of violet leaves. With each step, the horses’ hooves released a delicate fragrance. All too soon the natural tunnel split. The branch that led off to the left would take Deneas and Trelleir to their camp. And the other to mine and Brial’s.
Trelleir’s contemplative gaze gave no hint into the other man’s thoughts. “Not to ruin Karst’s surprise, but I want you to wear his gift at all times. Especially when you return to the caravan.”
Brial’s, “Why?” sounded so scared Karst reached out and pulled her onto his lap.
Trelleir answered with a warm smile as if it was a fond memory. “The stone is said to be protection against magic. And your great-aunt laid a blessing on it. As long as you wear it Medraut will never be able to use his powers on you again.”
Deneas added her own reassurance. “Trelleir and I wont be far. Send Tywyll if you need us.”
Brial looked down the lane. “Thank you, Den, Trel. I feel much better now.”
Karst felt her twist to face him. The seductive look on her face had him ready to kick his horse into a gallop.
The urge increased when she said, “I don’t expect any problems.”
After a shake of hands with Trelleir and a brief embrace between Deneas and Brial, the other couple moved off.
“Finally,” Karst whispered, “we are alone.”