Everlasting (47 page)

 
“I know,” Cordelia said wearily. “But promise me you’ll take care, and you’ll stay near me at all times.”

 
“I promise,” Abrielle said, looking up at the sky with dread. After a moment she said softly, “How long can this continue?”

 
“Until they run out of arrows.” Cordelia leaned against an empty horse trough. “But if they planned this all along, then they came prepared.”

 
“Do not say that.” Abrielle stared up at the clouds, her anger flaring. “Why does it not rain?”

 
To her horror, more arrows streamed out of the sky, a trail of flames behind them. Her vow to stay with Cordelia came to naught when they both scattered to put out fires. Abrielle beat at flames with the small rug she’d taken from inside, coughing when she inhaled a blast of smoke. But she had a moment’s clarity in which she realized that there were fewer arrows than when they’d first begun. Raven’s archers were surely hitting their targets. All the keep had
to do was outlast Thurstan’s supply of men, and then it would be over.

 
“The roof!” a soldier shouted from the battlements.

 
All eyes looked up in shock and fear, but those on the ground could not see the top of the keep. Yet Abrielle realized that only the roof on fire could motivate such tired men, who suddenly ran across the walkways overhead connecting the battlements to the keep. Abrielle had never prayed so hard in her life.

 
But she could not continue to watch the sky when she heard a familiar voice scream. She stared wildly around her, only to see Cordelia frantically beating at her own skirt, where flames licked along the hem and rose higher. Abrielle started to run, but before she could even take two steps, Cedric appeared through the haze of smoke and knocked Cordelia to the ground, smothering the flames with his own body. Abrielle swayed and sat down on a bench near the garden.

 
Weeping, Cordelia clung to Cedric, letting him rock her, before at last she straightened and wiped at her wet, dirty face.

 
To Cedric, she had never looked more beautiful. “Lass, are ye well? Are there burns?”

 
“Nay, you saved me in time,” Cordelia said, hiccupping on a sob as she gave him a wobbly smile.

 
“What a brave, fine lass ye are,” he said, grinning. “Now take Abrielle and go inside. Surely there will soon be wounded who need your attention.”

 
“The roof—”

 
“Is being attended ta even as we speak,” he said. “Now go.”

 
Although there was a somberness in his manner that boded ill, Cordelia gulped and nodded, meeting Abrielle’s exhausted gaze.

 
Abrielle forced herself to her feet, knowing that she was so tired, she might do more harm than good in the courtyard. “I will go.”

 
Leaning on each other, the two good friends slowly trudged up the stairs and into the great hall. To their surprise, there were only a few
servants about. Elspeth came out of the kitchens and, on seeing them, hurried over.

 
“Where is everyone?” Abrielle asked.

 
“Oh, dear, are you hurt?” her mother demanded.

 
“Nay, I am sure I look far worse than I feel.”

 
“Isolde has led women up into the sewing room to look for heavy cloth to put out fires,” Elspeth interrupted, looking askance at Cordelia. “She fears for you.”

 
“I shall go to her. Abrielle, you will remain here?”

 
“Aye, I will, and this time I mean my promise.”

 
Cordelia nodded and hurried away.

 
“And the servants?” Abrielle said.

 
“Most are trying to help in one way or another. Would you assist me in setting out bread trenchers for the stew?”

 
“But, Mama, surely I can be of more use to the injured.”

 
“The Seaberns have their own healer. Even now, she has set up her medicines in the chapel, but thankfully, there are only a few injuries so far.” Elspeth stared into her daughter’s eyes. “But you, my dear, need to rest and eat.”

 
Abrielle frowned at the way her mother was hovering over her. And then the truth dawned. “You know, do you not?”

 
“About the babe? Aye, I guessed. I imagine a man like Raven would not need long to give his seed life.”

 
Abrielle sighed. “We wanted to tell you all in a special moment, where we could celebrate.”

 
“And celebrate we shall, for ’tis a joyous event. I shall be a grandmother at the same time I become a mother all over again.”

 
Abrielle felt a smile tug at her lips.

 
“Vachel will become a father and grandfather all at once!”

 
Shaking her head, Abrielle groaned with a faint amusement.

 
“Now you are feeling better,” Elspeth said. “Now come, the trenchers are near the kitchen. Help me set them at the tables.”

 
Two other women emerged from the kitchen to help as Abrielle took a stack of bread and began to walk to a far table. For a moment she could almost forget that outside the sky rained fire, and that people battled to save her new home. The few women working with her did not speak, concentrating on their tasks with the dull lethargy of exhaustion.

 
Ad then an unholy scream echoed through the hall, the sound like a demon from hell. Abrielle whirled and had only a moment to see a heavy woman rushing at her, wild black hair fanning back from her distorted face. The witch, Mordea, Desmond’s sister, had come for her vengeance.

 
OUTSIDE THE KEEP, Thurstan de Marlé broke in two the shaft of an arrow that protruded from his chest, distantly surprised that he didn’t feel any pain. He watched the flames on the roof spew higher, and waited for the cries of lament to begin over the death of Abrielle Seabern. His revenge was so close at hand that he could taste its bitter sweetness.

 
ABRIELLE ONLY HAD a moment to fling up her hands, but her meager defense was useless against Mordea’s insane strength. Her taloned fingers closed about Abrielle’s neck, cutting off the very air she needed to breathe. Abrielle clawed desperately at the woman’s hands, but could not pry them off.

 
Mordea shook her like a dog. “Ye won’t give birth ta another heir, not when my Thurstan deserves all ye stole from him!”

 
Women screamed and fled for help, but not Elspeth. Seeing her daughter in the grip of a madwoman focused her mind, replacing terror with grim determination. No fear could exist for long in a mother’s heart when her child was in danger. Snatching up a pitcher, she ran at
Mordea from behind, lifted the pitcher high, and brought it down on the woman’s head, shattering the vessel into a thousand pieces. Mordea staggered and fell, taking Abrielle with her.

 
Raven burst through the great double doors just as Abrielle rolled clear of Mordea’s slack arms and came to her knees, coughing violently. Elspeth started to sob, pulling at her daughter as if to get her far away from such a source of evil. But Mordea did not move.

 
Raven swept Abrielle into his arms, lifting her right off the floor in his need to hold her close to him. He felt the frantic thudding of her heart…and his own. “Are ye all right, my love?”

 
She nodded, her coughing finally fading, her hand at her sore throat. “I’ll be bruised, but none the worse for wear, thanks to my mother. Please put me down so I can go to her.”

 
Elspeth stood alone, hugging herself, crying, and the two women fell into each other’s arms and sobbed loudly. More and more people streamed from the doorways leading down corridors, gathering around and whispering.

 
Raven rolled Mordea onto her back and saw her sightless eyes staring at the ceiling. “She’s dead.”

 
With a gasp, Elspeth lifted her head from Abrielle’s shoulder. “But I didn’t mean to kill her!”

 
“Mama, you were saving me! Her death was an accident, yet she was an evil woman who was bent on destroying anyone she could.”

 
Elspeth nodded several times, her tears slowing until she heard her husband’s voice. Then she sank into Vachel’s arms and cried again.

 
“How did Mordea enter the keep?” Abrielle asked hoarsely.

 
Raven rose to his feet and put his arm around her, speaking with grim certainty. “The serfs entered just before we closed the gates. ’Twould have been easy enough for her ta disguise herself, especially with the cloak she’s wearing. I blame myself. Thurstan’s forces hadna yet arrived, so I assumed that he had no one near enough ta pose a
threat.” He closed his eyes for a brief moment. “I could have cost ye your life, Abrielle.”

 
“Nay, think no more of it,” she said firmly. “This siege is not yet finished.”

 
“They send in fewer and fewer arrows. Their stores are surely depleted, and more men lie on the ground than yet stand, the victims of our archers. I say that we tell de Marlé that his plan didna work and see what he does.”

 
“We could offer him her body,” Abrielle said, glancing with a shudder at the dead woman. “She was almost an aunt to him. And I’m coming with you.”

 
“Abrielle—”

 
“How can I be in more danger at your side than I’ve already experienced here?”

 
And he could not disagree with that.

 
On the battlements, Abrielle received her first view of the countryside spread out below the castle walls. She felt sick upon seeing the several dozen men lying in heaps, only a few barely stirring. But when she turned and caught her first sight of the castle roof, a corner of it still ablaze as men worked frantically, she could no longer pity the brigands who were foolish enough to follow Thurstan’s cause.

 
Only a dozen men stood upright below, dipping arrows into fires built for that purpose. She looked up at the dark sky, black clouds threatening. Rain might be their only hope for stopping the whole roof from going up in flames, which would take the entire keep with it. If the flames spread any farther, they would soon have to abandon the building.

 
“Thurstan de Marlé!” Raven shouted.

 
Down below, the soldiers paused, and Raven could see the man they turned to. Thurstan stood in the forefront of his men, his shield hanging awkwardly at his side, no longer protecting him. Raven realized
that he had been hit with an arrow, and only remained standing out of sheer determination.

 
“I see your roof in flames,” Thurstan called back, obscene laughter threatening in his voice. “It will not be long now, Seabern.”

 
“’Twill be longer than ye think, de Marlé. Your men are dwindling, and my men will soon have the fire under control.”

 
Abrielle glanced back at the roof, and wondered if her husband only bluffed.

 
“I offer the body of the woman ye considered an aunt, the woman ye sent in alone ta do your work for ye.”

 
Thurstan let the point of his sword lower into the earth, and he almost staggered as he leaned against it. “She failed?”