Breath of Heaven (4 page)

“Milady?” he asked when he had his mount once more under control.

“I feel I am too distracted today for the hunt,” Eliane declared loudly enough for all to hear. “I will visit with Madwyn today and look forward to your tales of conquest at dinner this eve.” Without waiting for their response, she kicked her heels into Aletha’s sides and took off across the field to the forest with Llyr bounding through the knee-deep snow at her side.

Eliane felt the peace of the forest come over her as Aletha wound her way through the trees and onto the path cut by the innumerable deer that came to the field to graze at night beneath the safety of Aubregate’s towers. She let the mare have her head.

The air fairly crackled with cold and their breath emerged as puffs of fog that seemed to freeze in mid-air. Aletha’s hooves beat a steady rhythm that accompanied the beating of Eliane’s heart. Branches popped
overhead as squirrels scampered above in their haste to make sure the intruders were not after their treasure trove of food hidden away for the winter. A robin flew ahead, skimming just ahead of them with its red breast glowing bright against the dim grayness of the forest.

Llyr turned to look at her with his mouth open wide in a semblance of a smile, and Eliane smiled back in return, snatching the wool cap from her head and stuffing it into her cloak. Without it, she felt a sudden sense of freedom. In the distance, she heard the crashing of heavy bodies through the wood, along with the cries of the hounds. They were on the trail of the boar and headed away from her, to the north.

The trail began to slope downhill, and the tinkling sound of water moving beneath ice greeted her ears. Even though the air was frigid, the stream moved quickly enough to keep it from freezing entirely. The trail paralleled the stream, and both Llyr and Aletha quickened their steps, knowing their destination was close by.

Suddenly Llyr stopped and Eliane quickly pulled up on Aletha’s reins so she would not run into the dog, which stood in the middle of the trail with his ears pitched forward. Eliane listened, her ears trained by Madwyn to differentiate between the sounds that belonged in the forest and those that did not. A weak bleating noise filtered through the normal sounds of birds chirping, trees creaking, and small animals scurrying about the undergrowth. Eliane urged Aletha forward.

The path opened into a snow-covered glade with a large pond in the middle. The pond was covered with
a sheet of ice, and a snow-trodden path led down to its banks. A doe raised her head at their appearance and trotted cautiously away a few steps. As Llyr bounded forward, she ran into the woods.

Eliane heard the bleating again and saw something move close to the bank. She dismounted and followed the path to the pond’s edge, where a fawn struggled to escape the broken ice. As Eliane approached, the little creature stopped its struggles and stood trembling in the icy water with only its head showing above the crusting of ice.

“Poor thing,” she cooed. Quickly she removed her cloak and gloves and commanded Llyr to stand back. Her first step into the pond brought a gasp as the icy water poured into her boots. Still, she moved onward and the fawn bucked desperately. Fear drove it farther out into the water. Eliane lunged and caught the creature just as it slid beneath the ice.

She shivered violently as she pulled the baby against her breast, capturing its thin legs beneath her arm to keep it from striking her. It bleated once more, then sagged against her as she struggled to climb up the steep bank of the pond. She felt it shaking with cold and realized it was likely to freeze to death.

She struggled upward and onward. The fawn, while gangly, was also light, so Eliane shifted it to her side as she snatched up her cloak. She cleared the snow from the ground with a swipe of her foot and wrapped both of them up in the fur lining as she sank to the ground.

“Llyr,” she commanded. “Come.”

Llyr obediently trotted to her side and sank down beside her. Eliane leaned against his side for warmth and spoke soothingly to the fawn, which could not be
more than a few days old. Born in the dead of winter, its chances for survival were bleak, yet she was determined to do what she could for it.

“Poor thing,” she said. “Trapped in the ice. I sympathize, my sweet, for I feel that I may soon be trapped also.” She rocked as she petted the fawn’s spotted neck and felt it calm beneath her hands. “Trapped in responsibility, trapped in marriage, trapped by the people and the place I love most.”

Aletha snuffed at the snow and then raked a hoof across it until the tips of some sweet grass peaked through. Llyr watched from her side, and the heat of his body seeped through her cloak. Her feet felt like ice, so she slipped off her boots with some difficulty. She poured the water out onto the ground and set them aside. She wrapped her feet in the cloak and slid them up beneath Llyr’s front legs to warm them, then leaned against his hindquarters with the fawn in her arms.

The fawn’s breathing slowed and it snuggled deep into her arms and the warm fur of her cloak. Eliane realized it was sleeping. Its fight for life had left it exhausted. She was unwilling to disturb the little animal, so she relaxed a bit and let Llyr support both of them. As peace settled over the glade, Eliane watched the doe timidly step forward and browse among the tufts of grass that Aletha had revealed.

If only my life could continue to be this simple
…

What would happen come the morrow? Her father had asked her to put away her usual clothing, and dress as befitting her station. Was there a reason for his request? Why did he ask her if there was someone she wished to marry? Was he now prepared to choose
for her? She had said she would leave it to him; now that the time had drawn nigh, she must stand by her word.

What if he died before he made his choice? What then? Would the king send for her? Take her away from Aubregate? Use her as a pawn or give her as a reward? Eliane well knew what became of unmarried heiresses.

There was no need to dwell on things she could not change. She trusted her father to choose well, and she would live with his choice.

And if her marriage was not accomplished before her father died, then she would close up the gates and defend herself against unwanted suitors.

I cannot…the people will suffer. Aubregate will be lost…

If only she could disappear into the forest. Fade into the trees and lose herself in the world that remained hidden there. She could go with Han. He would show her the way.

Where is Han?

He had not participated in the hunt, and now that she thought on it, it had been several days since she’d seen him. It was not unusual for him to disappear for long periods. Han usually stayed in the deep woods, only coming out occasionally, or when her father had need of him.

“Father has sent Han to find me a husband,” Eliane said aloud. Aletha and Llyr both looked her way. The doe raised her head and the fawn stirred in her arms.

“Be gone, little one,” she said as she stood the fawn up in the snow. It cried out and moved to its mother with its tail raised like a flag in greeting. The doe
sniffed it carefully, then looked at Eliane with its soft brown eyes full of gratitude.

“You are most welcome,” Eliane said as the two faded into the forest. “Now see if you can avoid the huntsmen’s arrows and all will be well.”

Llyr stood and stretched and Eliane pulled her boots on, even though her woolen stockings were still wet and the leather of her boots was stiff with ice. She must be off. She must find Madwyn and learn what the wise woman knew about her father’s plans.

Only the foolish were unprepared. Whatever was to come, she would meet it head-on. Her people were depending upon her.

R
hys was not pleased. Not at all. The journey had been miserable right from the beginning. First freezing rain and impossible roads, now snow that drifted and made the roads impassable. To complete his frustration, Han had disappeared into the forest this morning, leaving Rhys only a brief set of instructions.

“Stay on the road and you will be at Aubregate before the sun sets,” he’d said. “Do not wander into the forest lest you lose your way.” Then he was gone without a backward glance. Into the very forest he warned them against.

Mathias was not much help with anything. His sad face, heavy sighs, and resentful attitude tested Rhys’s patience. He well understood what made Mathias so miserable. The boy wanted to be on his way home to Myrddin, not traipsing about the northern country in the snow.

They were cold, they were wet, they were tired and hungry, and now they were without a guide. The road was poorly marked, if there even was a road. No one had passed this way in several days. The path was nothing more than a snow-covered depression between the forest and the fields that seemed wide enough to hold a wagon. Rhys could only hope that they’d make Aubregate before the sun set. The prospect of spending another night freezing beneath his furs by a puny fire
was not welcoming. The sun, weak and distant as it was, did little to warm them, yet it was better than the dark and endless nights.

“Damn!” Mathias cursed, and Rhys brought Yorath to a stop. The stallion tossed his dark head in frustration. He was as anxious to reach warmth and shelter as his master. Rhys turned about and saw their supplies lying in the middle of the path. The packhorse stood with his saddle twisted about his belly.

“The girth broke,” Mathias exclaimed as he dismounted.

“I suggest you fix it,” Rhys ground out between his clenched teeth. He was ready to strangle his squire and was long past the end of his patience. “And quickly, lest I be tempted to beat you,” he added. He’d been threatening to beat Mathias the entire trip but to no avail. Mathias knew he was lying just as Rhys did. He’d been beaten often enough himself as a child and as a squire to know it was a poor form of correction. His grandmother had beaten him regularly in an attempt to drive the devil from his soul. The only thing that accomplished was teaching Rhys to hide his true feelings from the world lest the devil be known.

The best way for Mathias to learn from his mistakes was by having to suffer the consequences of them. He’d been neglectful in his care of the saddle; now he would have to repair it and repack their things. It would take him a while, but he would be more diligent the next time they set out.

Mathias grumbled as he attacked the mess. But he did attack it and with alacrity.

Rhys dismounted and checked Yorath’s plate-sized
hooves for ice. He scooped balls of snow from the hooves and ran his gloved hands over the fetlocks to clear them of ice that had tangled in the hair. Yorath nudged him in gratitude and Rhys rubbed his nose in return. “Tonight you shall be warm, my friend,” he said. “That is, if yon squire can keep his wits about him.”

Mathias grunted in response. Rhys merely shook his head and indulged himself with a stretch to relieve stiffness of long hours in the saddle. The journey had taken twice as long as expected, but it was better than the alternative of staying at court and wedding either Marcella or Jane.

Marriage. Peter assured him there were joys to be found in that holy estate. Rhys had no firsthand knowledge of such joy. His grandmother had been forced into marriage; so had his mother. Both seemed desperate to avoid it, his mother so much that she killed herself. Yet from the whisperings of the servants, it seemed as if his father had loved his mother desperately. Eventually, he’d chosen death over life without her.

A sign of weakness, his grandmother had told him. One that sent his father to hell for all eternity. Now she was in her nunnery praying for his immortal soul and for Rhys’s also, praying that he be spared the same weakness.

Was it weakness? Or a sign of something so deep that he could not comprehend it? Was there something lacking in him that he could not imagine loving, or hating something so deeply that death would be preferable?

Rhys shook his head at his meanderings. He should be thinking about which woman to take as a wife, not the meaning of life, love, and marriage.

So, would it be Marcella or Jane? He weighed both of them in his mind, their strengths, their weaknesses, their beauty, their riches, and finally their intelligence. Both came up lacking and he found his temper growing shorter.

With this delay, it was unlikely they would reach Aubregate by nightfall. Rhys studied the forest before him. The trees, larger and older than any he had seen before, stretched away endlessly into the distance. The snowy ground was crisscrossed with the fresh tracks of both birds and small creatures such as rabbits and squirrels.

Rabbit would make a nice dinner if they were forced to spend another night on the road. Fortunately he had a small bow that would serve his purpose. He retrieved it from his saddle and checked on Mathias. The squire had their belongings sorted neatly beside the road and was now examining the saddle. The packhorse stood next to his mount, and both wore feed bags and munched in contentment.

“I’m going to hunt,” he called out, and Mathias waved impatiently in acknowledgment. “I really should beat him,” Rhys said as he stepped into the forest. There was no reply.

After a few steps he felt a strange solitude, as if he were completely cut off from everyone and everything. He turned and saw Yorath browsing along the road and Mathias working industriously. It was as if they did not even know he was gone.

The way led downward and Rhys followed, tracking
the meandering trail of a rabbit through the undergrowth. There was no direct route, but Rhys plowed doggedly through the snow with his mantle dragging behind him.

Once more he checked behind and realized he could no longer see the road, nor Yorath and Mathias. All he saw in any direction was dense forest. There was nothing to indicate north, south, east, or west. If not for his tracks, he would think he’d fallen into some sort of enchantment.

Rhys shook his head at the foolish direction of his thoughts. This north land was full of legends and stories of magical happenings. When he was a tiny boy his nurse would fill his head with wonderful tales of the fey and fairies and dragons of yore. Every night she’d tell him a story until his grandmother discovered his head was being filled with unholy thoughts and sent the nurse away to a nunnery to repent of her sins.

Rhys knew the difference between stories and reality, but in a place such as this he could see how the lines could be crossed and such legends came into existence. His skin fairly crawled with anticipation. If he were on a battlefield he might be concerned, but here it just felt…strange. He felt as if he’d intruded upon something magical and private. He felt as if he should retrace his steps and leave this place.

The branch of a low-lying shrub moved in front of him and he caught a flash of fur. It was the rabbit, running for all it was worth toward a small ravine. Birds and squirrels took flight as he set off after it. He notched his bow as he ran in hopes that he could get a shot at it. Rhys stopped at the top of the ravine and his eyes
darted back and forth. He spotted his quarry, just as it scrambled up the opposite side and disappeared into a deadfall.

The ravine was about as deep as he was tall and was nearly the same across. The bottom held an ice-covered stream. He could see the water running beneath the surface. Rocks broke through the ice and he realized he could use them as stepping-stones to get to the opposite bank if need be.

Or he could jump. Rhys grinned at the prospect, backed up ten steps, and took a running leap. He landed solidly upon the opposite bank, or so he thought. Then the ground beneath him began giving way and he toppled backward. He landed with a thud at the bottom of the ravine. His backside crashed through the ice and was immersed in the frigid water.

He felt dazed. He saw stars and then a swirl of color swam before his face. He blinked and realized someone was staring down at him.

It was a woman. Or was it? She was dressed as a man, but there was no mistaking the delicateness of her features or the curves of her body. Indeed, the very state of her dress enhanced them, more than any courtly dress ever could. In her hands she held a bow with an arrow notched and ready.

Rhys quickly backed away. When he reached the side of the ravine, he placed his hand upon the hilt of the short sword he always wore and gazed up at her.

A long braid of bronze mixed with copper fell over her shoulder and dangled past her waist. A belt hung low on her hip, holding a sword a bit shorter than his. She was clad in a brown tunic and chausses, along with leather boots that came to her knees. Her legs were
long and lithe, and her body thin and willowy, yet generous in places where it should be.

More than generous. A rich cloak of deep green lined with fox hung from her shoulders, along with a quiver full of arrows. Her arms wore leather gauntlets and her hands were covered in gloves that fit like a second skin. In her fingers she held the bow ready, yet aimed at the ground.

She looked down at him with vivid green eyes.
Her eyes look like emeralds
…Her skin was as white as the snow except for the tip of her nose which was red from cold. At her side stood an immense dog.

She was extraordinarily beautiful, and he felt the impact of her gaze like a punch in his gut, and lower. Not even the icy cold water drenching his chausses could keep his response at bay. Her choice of clothing left little to the imagination. Indeed, it revealed much, even though she was warmly dressed and completely covered except for the top of her head.

Yet there was something peculiar about her, something strange that he could not quite identify. Was she part of the enchantment he’d felt earlier?

“You trespass, sir,” she said in a voice that sounded as melodious as the water trickling over the rocks.

“I was waylaid upon my journey,” he replied cautiously. “I merely seek a rabbit for my dinner.”

She relaxed her hold on the arrow and reached behind her hip. She pulled forth a rabbit, which hung from a thong upon her belt. “This rabbit?” she asked.

“If you found yon rabbit coming from this direction, then yes, ‘tis the one I seek.”

“The rabbit is mine as you can clearly see,” she said. “I suggest you hunt for your dinner in yon fields instead
of these woods lest you meet the same fate as other trespassers in these woods.”

“And what fate is that?” Rhys asked. He wanted to laugh at her bold threats but was fairly certain she would not take such a response well. Considering the fact that she was holding a bow and seemed quite capable of using it, he held his humor in check.

Mayhap she sensed his amusement. She looked at him intently, her emerald eyes moving over his body from the top of his head to the tip of his snow-covered boots. He waited for her to speak, but instead of answering his question, she placed the arrow back into her quiver, slung the bow over her shoulder, and turned away from him.

“It will be dark soon,” she called out as she walked away. “I wish you luck in finding your way out.”

The beast of a dog looked down at him. Its mouth hung open in the semblance of a friendly grin. Rhys did not wish to test its friendliness. Finally the animal turned and bounded after its mistress.

Rhys jumped across the stream and pulled himself up far enough to see into the forest. She was gone, vanished as quickly as she’d appeared.

He looked once again, his eyes searching back and forth until he could no longer make out anything in the dim light of the forest. Night was coming, and quickly. He was nearly frozen after his partial dunking in the stream. He clambered back up the bank on the side he’d come from and was relieved to find his tracks still there.

Had he really thought they would be gone? Her warning made it seem as if they would. He hurried back at a slow run, keeping his gaze fixed on his footprints
as if they would disappear before him. A sense of relief washed over him when he saw the way lighten, and the dark form of Yorath came into his sight. He quickened his pace and burst forth from the forest as if he were being pursued.

“Milord?” Mathias asked questioningly. He turned from the packhorse, where it appeared he had just secured the last bundle. “Do you think we will make Aubregate before nightfall?”

“Let us give it a sincere try,” Rhys answered as he went to Yorath. “I have had my fill of this journey and am anxious to see its end.”

“I regret my part in our delay,” Mathias said contritely.

“You have set it aright as best you can,” Rhys replied. “And hopefully learned a lesson.”

“Yes, lord,” Mathias said. “I have.”

Rhys set off without another word. The sun still hung in the western sky, and the lack of clouds above promised a moon to guide them. They would press on. If they were lucky, they would arrive in time for a hearty meal with Edward. If he was able.

Peter had said that Edward’s health was failing. Was that the reason for his summons? He would have his answer soon enough. Preferably after a warm meal and an even warmer bed.

The thought of warm beds brought to mind warm and willing women to fill them. Would he find such at Aubregate? He usually had no trouble finding an eager maid, no matter where he visited.

If the women of Aubregate were anything like the woman who’d come upon him in the woods, then it would be a most delightful warming indeed. In all his
experience, he had never seen one such as her. Or mayhap it was just her unusual form of dress that made her seem so different.
Nay, ‘twas the woman
…

The entire incident seemed unreal in his mind. Could he have struck his head and imagined the entire thing? A warrior woman of the forest, complete with bow and sword? If he were going to dream, then why not conjure up a willing mistress instead of an Amazon or a fey, or even an elf? The stories his nurse had told him were often of the elves who’d supposedly inhabited the land centuries ago, before the legends of Arthur, Merlin, and Avalon even existed.