Chapter 34

 

Darkness surrounded Cristiana. Thick, blackness with a life of its own…breathing…gyrating….pulsing. She whirled around. Black. Nothing but black. Yet it moved, flowed like ink, thick and heavy. She took a step, reaching out for it. An icy breeze wove around her hand, so cold, she jerked it back.

“Where am I?” she shouted, sobbing.

Laughter, deep, malevolent laughter pierced her ears and sent shards of terror down to her toes.

Dropping to her knees, she hugged herself. Oh, God, am I in hell?

No answer came. Instead, a cloak of despair weighed upon her, threatening to crush her beneath its weight.

“Oh, God, oh God, oh God!” She kept repeating the words over and over.

A pinprick of light shattered the darkness.

“He can’t help you now.” The voice dripped with guile.

The light grabbed ahold of Cristiana and pulled her from the darkness out of her nightmare.

And straight into another one.

A man’s face peered down at her, a grin that bore no kindness on his thin, pale lips.

“Welcome, my intended.”

Who? What? Where were Jarin and Thebe?

Confusion gave way to fear, and Cristiana pushed from the dirt where she lay and jumped to her feet. Her vision whirled. She wobbled and reached behind her for something to cling to. Her hand found hard rock.

The man straightened and stared at her with eyes so dark, she found no white within them.

“Do you not recognize me, my lady?” He moved closer to the fire. Flames flickered over his black robe and the hollow features of his face, then danced over the rock walls of a small cave surrounding them.

The voice was familiar, yet it bore a confidence and authority that had been absent before. Nay. Couldn’t be. She inched toward him.

Growling emanated from the shadows at the back of the cave.

“Silence, pets!” The man waved a hand through the air.

“Cedric?” she asked, still not believing it.

He smiled. “You forget so soon the man you were to wed? The man you shamed by running away on our wedding day.”

A breeze laden with pine and oak and night jasmine wafted around her, and she glanced to her left where a turn in the cave surely led outside.

“Ah, you think your gallant knight will come to your rescue?” Cedric gave a sarcastic snort.

“How did I…?” The last thing she remembered was walking toward two wolves, hoping to save… “Sir Jarin and Thebe. Where are they?”

He smiled again and shrugged. “My guess? Miles from here. In good sooth, the man is surely glad to be rid of the burden of protecting you.” He leaned toward her and raised a hairless brow. “We both know Sir Jarin is not a man who would allow anyone to impede his libertine tendencies. Unless, of course, there were benefits offered?” He winked at her.

It took Cristiana a moment to determine what he meant. “How dare you suggest such a thing!?”

He sighed. “Then ’tis no wonder he has abandoned you.”

Abandoned. Abandoned. Abandoned. The word pummeled Cristiana like a fist. A very familiar fist that had left its bruise more than once.

“As to your other question, ’twas my pets that brought you here.” Cedric glanced fondly toward the shadows, where one of the wolves slunk out, plopped down, and whined. Reaching beside the fire, he selected two bones covered in raw flesh and tossed them into the corner. A storm of snarling, yapping, and growling ensued as the beasts leapt upon their meal.

“What do you want?” Cristiana hated the weakness in her voice, hated the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“Why, you, my dear.”

“I will not wed you, Cedric. Ever.” She knew her words might get her tossed to the wolves next, but she’d rather die than be wife to this man…this beast before her.

He laughed and placed a hand over his heart. “You wound me deeply, my lady. Nay, as lovely as you are”—he cocked his head, assessing her—“I have no desire to marry you. Or anyone.”

Cristiana’s legs turned to pottage, and she lowered to sit on a rock by the fire. Despite the flames rising toward the ceiling, the warmth did naught to chase away the chill that permeated every inch of her. A chill that only increased when she lifted her gaze to study Cedric and found naught but ice in his eyes.

“What happened to you?” She remembered a young man full of life and joy, a lazy clodpole to be sure, but harmless nonetheless. He had never loved Cristiana. His father had forced him to press his suit upon her. Thus, his slide into darkness could not find its cause in her rejection.

He flung his robes around him and lowered to sit, never taking his gaze from her. Dark smudges stained the skin beneath his eyes as if the man had not slept in a sennight. Pale, hollow skin covered his face and neck. Hair that had once been light now hung to his shoulders in a tangled mass the color of dirt.

His lips lifted slightly. “I gained power. I became strong.”

Strong? Yet there was an emptiness in his eyes as if all hope and joy had been leeched from him. “You think evil is strength. You are wrong.”

Those eyes narrowed ere he snapped in the air and said something in a language she did not recognize. A raven appeared on his finger.

Though everything within her flinched in fear, she attempted a calm demeanor.

“I could order it to peck out your eyes, should I wish.”

The bird glared at Cristiana as if longing to do just that.

Terror threatened to squeeze her heart dry. For she knew now she was not dealing with a mere madman, nor with mere flesh and blood, but with principalities and rulers of evil.

“’Tis the dark powers that aided me in finding you,” he continued, petting the raven. “When a host of trained soldiers failed.”

Cristiana swallowed, trying to find her voice. “What is it you want with me?”

“I am ordered to bring you back to Luxley, of course.” He lifted his arm and the raven flew off, disappearing into a puff of black mist.

She gripped her hands together to keep them from trembling. How was she to fight against such evil? “So you do your father’s bidding?”

“That foolish tosspot!” He roared, hatred firing from his eyes. “Nay. I no longer answer to him.”

If not Sir Walter, then who had sent this fiend from hell to find her? Unless… “’Tis your ambition then to become Lord of Luxley?”

“Pfff” He chuckled. “I assure you, my lady, my ambitions far outweigh such a lowly station.”

“Then what use am I to you?”

“To me? Naught. But a bargain was made with my master for your return.”

“Your master?”

“Enough! Your prattling tongue annoys me.” The wolves growled as Cedric rose from his seat like a specter from its grave.

Against her will to appear strong, Cristiana shrank back. “Prithee, just kill me and get it over with.”

His smile was as sharp as a blade. “As pleasant as that sounds, there is something you have that I need. Ergo, give it to me, and I may allow you to live. If you do not, I will rip it from your lifeless flesh.”

What could this vile man possibly want from her? “I have naught of value.”

“In good sooth, I beg to differ, my lady. You have a relic stained by the blood of my enemy. My master fears its power. I wish to use that power against him and take my rightful position as grand warlock of the realm.”

A warlock? Her blood froze in her veins. A powerful one, from the sounds of it. Poor Alexia. What she must be up against.

The Spear heated on Cristiana’s thigh. For what purpose? Averting her gaze from the evil man, she stared at the fire. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

He chuckled. “Very well, lifeless flesh it is.” Flinging his robes behind him, he advanced toward her.

♥♥♥

It took nearly an hour for Jarin to fully accept that Cristiana was gone. During that time, he searched every inch of the stable, then grabbed Thebe, mounted his horse, and further searched a mile in every direction over dark fields and roads. All the while, he desperately called her name whilst trying to calm down an hysterical babe.

Finally, he returned to the stable, more despondent than ever, and plopped down in the hay, a weeping Thebe in his arms.

“Where Cristi? I want Cristi!” the poor child wailed over and over.

“I know, little one. I do as well.” He did his best to console her, to hold her tight and reassure her Cristiana would be all right, but Thebe refused to be comforted. The poor child had witnessed the same thing Jarin had, two massive wolves leaping on Cristiana ere all three of them disappeared in a cyclone of black smoke.

Jarin had seen many strange things in his life—most of which had happened after he met Lady Cristiana. But he’d never seen the likes of a lady here one moment and gone the next. Something evil was afoot, something beyond this world. And beyond the cut of his blade. Which made him feel all the more helpless.

Thebe finally stopped crying and stuck her thumb in her mouth, though sobs still wracked her small body, each one increasing his guilt. His one job, his only job, had been to protect Lady Cristiana at all costs. And he had failed.

Miserably.

How does one fight against what cannot be seen? If the wolves had been real, he would have plunged his blade through both of them. If they had been men, he would have killed them ere he ever allowed them to lay a hand on Cristiana. If an army had captured and run off with her, he’d leave Thebe safe with a nearby family and dash to her rescue.

But this? He had no idea what to do, where to go, how to find her.

“Shh, shh.” He rubbed Thebe’s back and kissed the top of her head. “We will find Cristi, little one. We will find her. You have my troth.”

What sort of man lies to a child? The accusation blared through his head over and over as he packed up the remainder of their food and water, tied Cristiana’s horse to his own, swung into his saddle, and headed out with Thebe in his arms. He could think of naught else to do but return to the main road, pick a direction, and ask along the way if anyone had seen the lady.

Ridiculous idea since no person would be out in the thick of the night, and he could hardly see them if they were. Finally, after a few hours of aimless wandering, he led the horses off the main road into a patch of willows. Better to get some rest until daylight. Especially for Thebe, for the girl continued to sob and inquire how long before they found Cristi.

After making a small fire and a bed of leaves for the girl, Jarin lay beside her, hoping she would go to sleep. He had no idea how to care for a child. Did they merely fall asleep on their own, or was there something he should do? He had not paid attention to what Cristiana had done.

Thebe glanced behind her, then moved her little body right beside his, curling her back against his chest. She let out a ragged sigh and said. “Jarn, sing song.”

Song? The salacious ballads Jarin knew would not be appropriate for a child. “I don’t know any songs. Go to sleep.”

She began to whimper again, soft and low, sending quivers through her tiny body. “I want Cristi!”

“Faith now,” he whispered, annoyance rising. “Hush. I’ll sing a song. Hush.” He swung an arm around her and drew her close. Then, clearing his throat, he made up a song and a tune to go with it about a frog, a pig, and a sleepy little girl. To his ears it sounded ridiculous and incredibly off-tune, and he was thankful none of his friends were nearby to make sport of him. But it made Thebe laugh and snuggle closer ere she grew limp in his arms and her breathing deepened.

Jarin laid his head on his arm, breathing in her scent of flowers and innocence and feeling her small body nestled against his, so tiny against his large frame, so dependent on him for everything. And a strange feeling rose within him, an overwhelming feeling of protection, of care, of being a father to such a child, of watching her grow, teaching her, providing for her. Of guarding her with his life.

Bosh! ’Tis precisely what he didn’t want!

Exhaustion finally won over his anger with himself and his fears for Cristiana, and he slowly drifted to sleep.

 

Jarin walked through a field of flowers. A breeze swirled about him, cooling his skin and bringing with it the sweetest fragrance he’d ever smelled, so sweet he could near taste it. Bright sunshine lit the tall, swaying flowers in sparkling colors so vibrant and pure ’twas like a painting from another world. Yet where was the sun? He could not find it in the brilliantly blue sky. Instead, light seemed to explode from all around, bright, golden light that kissed everything it touched with warmth and life.

He continued walking, his boots cushioned by the soft soil, his hands spread out to graze the passing flowers. They tickled his palms. He smiled. In the distance, beyond the meadow, green mountains rose from which poured crystalline waterfalls, the silver liquid bouncing and bubbling in delight as it splashed into a lake below.

A song danced upon the breeze like the sound of many harps, each playing a different tune, but all in harmony. Yet no minstrels were in sight. Nay. The song was not from human hands. Jarin stopped and glanced over the magnificent scene. The music came from all around him. From the flowers, grass, trees, waterfalls, and mountains. A joyous tune of peace and love and a happiness that had always eluded him in life.

Three figures appeared in the distance, heading toward him—a man, woman, and child. At first he could not see their faces, but as they came closer, he stumbled backward and nearly fell.

“Greetings, my son.” The man halted before him and smiled.

“Father? Father! I’m dreaming.” Jarin rubbed his eyes. When he opened them, he shifted his gaze to the woman. “Mother?” Then to the child. A girl around eight years of age.

“Your sister, Celia,” his mother said.

Jarin could only stare at them in wonder. Yet how could he deny what he was seeing? His father looked the same, yet younger, stronger, devoid of the ravages of time and hard work. The last time he’d seen his mother, she’d been covered in blood, her face a twist of pain and heartache. Here, she was radiant, beautiful, healthy.

“This can’t be,” he said. Nay, ’twas a dream. A beautiful, wonderful dream, but one that would soon end.

His father grabbed his shoulders and drew him close in a tight embrace, a solid, warm embrace. Jarin could even smell the man’s familiar scent of tallow and aged books, hear his chuckle in his ears.

“Jarin, my boy. I’m overjoyed to see you!” He backed away, allowing Jarin’s mother to rush into his arms and bury her head against his chest.

He hugged them both. Tears burned in his eyes, but he dared not show the weakness, not for something that wasn’t real, that would vanish without warning just as it had come.

The little girl tugged on his leather coat. Releasing his parents, Jarin stooped and gazed at her angelic face. Dark brown hair—the same color as his—fell in a bounty of curls over her shoulders. Golden eyes fringed in thick lashes stared back at him, love and laughter bursting from within them.

She said naught. Merely fell against him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He nudged her back, kissed her forehead, and rose to face his parents. “She died in my arms.”

His mother laid a hand on his arm. “Nay, my son. An angel took her from your arms and brought her here to mine.”

Jarin swallowed a burst of pain. “I don’t unders—”

“This is the real world. Not the one you live in now, son.” Jarin’s father grabbed his wife’s hand as she took Celia’s. “We await you.”

“Wait for what?” Jarin reached out for them, but they turned and started to walk away.

“Nay! Don’t leave!” Jarin started to rush after them, but some invisible force held him at back.

Beyond them, on top of a hill, a white city appeared, so bright, he blinked and shielded his eyes at the sight. Its walls were made of glimmering jewels and its gates of lustrous pearls, whilst towers made of gold rose toward the sky.

When he glanced down toward his family, they were gone.