Coven: a dark medieval paranormal romance (Witches of the Woods Book 2) (2 page)

I started to answer, but Bernadine shot me a hard look. A look that said,
don’t tell them.
My voice croaked, and pain flared down my throat. I broke down into a coughing fit.

Ulrich gathered me into his arms. “Ada, you are safe now.” I rested myself against him, my chest heaving as I sucked in the smell of him, relief washing over me. I was alive, and so was he. Ulrich lifted a bandaged hand and wiped my neck, his fingers tracing the shallow cut Clarissa had made in my skin.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, his voice cracking.

I held my hand against my throat, and felt something warm and wet. When I pulled my fingers away, I saw they were coated with blood.

“It’s nothing,” I croaked, my voice slowly gaining its old tone.  “Clarissa scratched me. We can bandage it later. We should leave.” The shouts of the villages had died off somewhat as they spread out, but I could see their torches flickering through the trees, coming closer. They had followed Clarissa’s screams. Any moment they might burst into the clearing.

I tried to get to my feet, but my knees buckled beneath me. Ulrich went to help me, but Bernadine stopped him. “You’re in no condition to support her. Go help your löwe with the horses.” Ulrich looked as if he would protest, but she slapped him across the cheek. “Don’t argue with me. Go!”

Aubrey and Bernadine grabbed me under the arms, and pulled me to my feet. I leaned against Aubrey and staggered toward the wagon. “Ada, what happened?” Aunt Aubrey asked, as she cupped her hands beneath my foot and boosted me onto the back of the wagon. “Where did the fire come from?”

“I did that,” I whispered. “I felt this heat inside of me, and this overwhelming sense that I knew how to stop Clarissa. And I just sort of
pushed
it, and—”

“Oh, Ada,” Aubrey squeezed my shoulder. “This is wonderful news.”

“Maybe,” I didn’t feel wonderful now. I felt afraid.

“I guess this means you’ve found your power.” Bernadine said, almost sulkily, as she dragged her own body up beside me. I started to reply to her, but Tjard cut me off.

“While I’d love to stick around and discuss this strange occurrence at great length, we do still have the little matter of the friendly mob right behind us.” I glanced over my shoulder, and I could easily make out the glow from their torches as they moved through the forest toward us. I could recognize voices, hear their shouts.

“Let’s go!”

Ulrich swung up on the back of the great black mare, and with a single barked command, the horses took off in a gallop. I grabbed the edge of the cart and held on for dear life as we clattered through the pitch-black forest, the wheels bouncing over the ground as if we were a stone skipping across the surface of a lake. The sounds of the villagers died away as all my focus became directed on holding on for dear life. The forest whizzed by in a blur, the branches making a horrible scraping sound as the cart brushed past them. Wind whipped my hair around my face, tearing at my skin, my ears, filling my mind with the breath of the goddess.

When I dared look behind us, I could no longer see the torchlights of the villages. In fact, I could see nothing at all. The forest was shrouded in darkness, a bleak hole of nothingness that swallowed us whole.

I lost track of time as we plunged deep into the pitch black woods. Ulrich drove the horses on relentlessly, until they trembled with cold and pain. Even then he only slackened the pace slightly.

Finally, the horses would endure no more. Ulrich leapt down off his mare’s back and led them onward for several paces, finally stopping the cart beneath a copse of towering oaks, their branches stretching high above our heads like the ceiling of a cathedral. The stars twinkled through the gaps in the leaves, unhindered by cloud. It might have been a beautiful night had we the disposition to appreciate it.

“We rest here,” Ulrich said. “We will travel again as soon as it is light.”

Tjard tended to the horses, while Ulrich pulled blankets from the crates on the wagon, and rolled them out for Aubrey, Bernadine, and I. While Ulrich got to work on a fire, I pulled the blanket around my body, shivering from hours of being assailed by the cold winds. Aubrey found a candle in the wagon, and after lighting it from the flames, collected some weeds, and mashed them together, then rubbed them on my neck. “This will heal that wound.” She smeared the rest of the paste on Ulrich’s hand, heedless of his protests.

I pulled the rough blanket tighter around my shoulders to ward off the creeping cold. I was still wearing the torn, dirty shift the villagers had placed on me for my execution, and my skin felt cold and clammy from the wind. We sat around the leaping flames, staring into each other’s drawn faces. I saw my own fear reflected back at me in their expressions. Our eyes darted out into the darkness, searching always for our enemies.

“What now?” asked Aubrey, the great darkness swallowing her words.

“We are all tired,” Ulrich said. “I think we are far enough away that they will not find us here. By now, the bloodlust would have left them, and they will return to their warm homes in the village to sleep. But to be sure, one of us must stand guard with the others sleep.”

“Ulrich and I will take turns,” Tjard said. “You ladies should save your strength. We still have a long way to travel tomorrow.”

“You read my mind,” Bernadine said. I detected a hint of something strange in her voice. Could it be amusement or, perhaps even … pride. Her eyes never left my face.

I had so many questions about what had happened, and they would be left unanswered for the night. Did the fire I conjured mean I was a flame witch, like Aunt Bernadine? What did the heat in my hand mean? How had I known how to perform the spell? My aunts had never taught me anything about summoning fire. But weariness attacked my body, and suddenly nothing, not even my newfound ability, seemed as important as closing my eyes and sleeping.

I wanted to lie with Ulrich, to feel the reassuring warmth of his body against mine. But he, of course, offered to take the first watch, and so I lay down beside Aunt Aubrey and there, cocooned in the shadows of the woods, I fell into a dreamless sleep.

F
lames consumed me
. My skin crackled, the smell of burning flesh surrounding me. Orange light blinded my eyes. I opened my mouth to scream for help, but my jaw locked in place, and all that came out was a strangled sob. I tried to move, but something gripped me around my chest, pinning my arms to my sides and my legs together. My back pressed against something hard and hot. I was burning alive and there was nothing I could do to save myself.

The flames held me in their fiery grasp. They squeezed against my skin, shaking me roughly. How are the flames shaking me? I strained against my fiery bonds, but I was frozen in place. I could not move. The flames pulled me forward, dragging me toward my doom—

No, not the flames.
Ulrich.
My eyes fluttered open, and I saw Ulrich standing over me, his hands on my shoulders as he shook me awake. I rubbed my eyes. “Is it my turn on watch?” I croaked out.

“No, my love.” Ulrich said, pulling my body against his. His chest felt warm in the crisp air. “You were crying in your sleep.”

His words make my heart pound.
My love.
No one had ever said anything like that to me before. “I was burning at the stake.” I shuddered at the memory. “The flames were devouring me, but I couldn’t move, I couldn’t run.”

Ulrich squeezed me tighter. “There are no flames here. It was only a dream. And now, it is morning. We must move on from this place.”

I thought of everything Ulrich had done for me, how he had awakened the fires of desire within me, and how he’d raged through the fires to save me. The dream had been terrifying, but now that I thought back upon it, I realized that Ulrich
was
the fire. He was surrounding me on all sides, protecting me, preventing me from marching into my own doom. It was only natural that he’d be represented in flames.

I pressed myself back against him, eager to share myself with him, to express in some way the gratitude I felt. I gazed around the dying embers, and say the bodies of my aunts, still sleeping. Aunt Bernadine snored loudly. Tjard was nowhere to be seen.

Ulrich leaned back and smiled at me. “You are well-rested?” he asked. “We have a great distance to cover today.”

“I am, thank you. But where is Tjard? Who is on watch now?”

“I am.”

“But Ulrich … have you been on watch all night?” He nodded.

I grabbed him by the cheeks, his skin rough under my fingers, hardened from the elements. “We need your sword and your wits to get out of this alive. You can’t give either if you’ve collapsed from exhaustion. I should have been taking watch for some part of the night. I could’ve woken you if I heard anything. You
must
take time for your own rest, and do not allow me to sleep through my duties.”

“You have only one duty, and that is to stay alive,” he said. “I will take care of you, Ada. You needed to rest, so I allowed you to rest.”

I wanted to argue, but his arms felt so warm and good. My reprimand died on my lips. When we were out of danger, I would have words to Ulrich about not treating me like a delicate flower. But now, I enjoyed these few peaceful moments we had together. I didn’t want to let Ulrich go, but Tjard emerged from the edge of the forest, and he stoked up the fire and placed a pot on the hot stones. I sat up, rubbing my stiff back.

Tjard had collected some edible roots and berries, and made us a broth, which he ladled out, into cups he found in the back of the wagon. While we drank, Aunt Aubrey unwrapped the bandages around Ulrich’s leg and hand and inspected them. “You are healing nicely,” she said. “The cut on your hand is deep, but clean. You were very lucky. You could have lost the use of your fingers.”

Ulrich flexed his fingers. “Thankfully, they seem to be working fine. When will I have full use of my leg again?”

“It will be a few weeks yet. Not even a witch can heal a bone overnight. You may always walk with a slight limp, but it will be nothing compared to what might have been.”

“Thank you,” Ulrich said gruffly, as he watched her bandage it once again. He must still be in some pain, for I saw his eyes water. But he said nothing. That was my Ulrich, he couldn’t bear to be vulnerable in any way.

“So now that we’re far from our home, and the entire village is after our flesh.” Aunt Bernadine glowered at Ulrich from across the dwindling fire. “What is our course of action,
scharfrichter
?”

“Don’t call me that,” Ulrich growled back. “I no longer claim that profession, and the title is poison to my lips.”

“What word would you have me use to address you?”

“My name might be nice.”

“Well,
Ulrich,
” Aunt Bernadine emphasized the word with a deep scowl. “What will happen now?”

“Before they threw me into the well, Elder Ernust informed me he had sent word to my father of my so-called
enchantment
. As we sit here, Damon of Donau-Ries rides to Lord Benedict’s castle to assist him in organizing the largest coordinated witch hunt our land has ever seen.”

I gasped.

“I have brought dishonour on my family’s name, and my father will not abide this.” Ulrich continued. My stomach sank. “He will stop at nothing to hunt me down. As soon as he learns that we have escaped, he will come after me. It is not safe for any of you to remain with me.”

“What must we do?” My voice came out high and shrill.

“I have thought long and hard about the best course of action, and I feel we have only one option. I am taking you to a woman I know, a witch whom I rescued some years ago. You will remain with her and her coven until it is safe for me to come back to you.”

“I’m not staying with some halfwit sorceress harlot of yours,” Bernadine fumed. “For a scharfrichter, you know very little about witches. This woman isn’t just going to welcome three new witches into her coven with open arms.”

“She will if I tell her to,” Ulrich shot back, his hand resting on his sword hilt.

“A coven is a sacred pact between witches, and members of a coven are as a family, sharing knowledge and keeping safe ancient secrets. We are strangers to her, and she to us. Would you trust a witch you’d never met with your deepest secrets?” Bernadine sat back, and gave me an odd, knowing look. “Perhaps you would.”

“Fine,” Ulrich said calmly. “Then wander aimlessly around the woods and be hunted like animals. I don’t care either way. But if you leave now, you do so without Ada, for I will not allow her to go off into the wilderness, when I know there is a better way.”

“Don’t be difficult, Bernadine,” said Aubrey.

“I don’t see why this man who used to kill women like us for a living, gets to be in charge of our destiny. Especially when Ada has finally come into her po—hey!” Aunt Bernadine yelped as Aubrey grabbed her arm, her usually kind eyes flashing with urgency. I wondered what that was about. Why did Aubrey not want Bernadine to talk about my powers? Surely they were one of the most important weapons we might have?

“What Bernadine
means
to say,” Aubrey continued, as she pinched Bernadine’s skin until the old woman’s eyes watered. “Is that we are very resourceful. We’ve survived on our own for more than twenty years, and we are likely better shepherdesses of our own destiny than this woman we have never met.”

“And we’ve got our curse to think about.” Bernadine added sourly. “We need men to take to our beds. How will we maintain our powers when we’re imprisoned in a land of cunny?”

“There are men attached to the coven, and villages nearby” said Ulrich. “I’m certain one of them will even please you, crone.”

“Don’t address me in that tone.”

Ulrich looked like he would say more to her, but I pulled on his arm. He turned to me, his eyes flashing. I stroked his hair. “Don’t rise to her challenge,” I said quietly. “That’s what she wants. Bernadine doesn’t like the idea of a man calling the shots.”

Ulrich’s eyes blazed. He struggled against his nature to fight for a few moments, then sighed in defeat. “
Women.
Now I am starting to understand where my father’s hatred comes from.” He saw the sadness and surprise in my eyes, and brushed my cheek with his hand. “Do not fear, Ada. I was joking. A joke in poor taste, perhaps, but your aunt is testing my patience.”