Faery Queen (7 page)

The fire spread, heating the structure. Hugh kept his eyes forward, ordering the others, “We need to save the horses. These are the best of Bellemare's stock. We cannot lose them.”

They slowly backed away, keeping their eyes on the creature. Hugh shivered. Should they confront it? Or did they save the horses and run away? If they chose to fight the beast, how could he kill a dead man? And how could they run away with such a beast on the loose?

Eadward opened his mouth, gurgling. It was an awful sound, one the man would never have made in his living years. Or was it wrong to think of the creature as Eadward? Hugh's mind raced, trying to grasp what he was seeing. He knew the possibility of such things as this could exist, but that didn't make witnessing it any easier to believe.

Hugh wondered how the creature could see them without eyes, but the face turned as if it knew exactly where the men were. Suddenly, Eadward lunged, baring unholy fangs as he flew through the air with predatory ease, taking them by surprise. Hugh automatically lifted his sword to fight, the motion a reflex from years of training.

The blade slid into Eadward's stomach, but the man-beast didn't stop coming. Bony fingers bit into Hugh's shoulders seconds before Eadward's teeth sunk into his neck.

“Ahh,” Hugh yelled, pushing the hilt of his sword forward to get the dead man off of him. But Eadward possessed a strength in death that he never had in life as he latched himself into Hugh's flesh.

“Hugh!” Thomas cried.

“Kill him,” Hugh yelled, desperate to have the creature off as he was brought to his knees. The blade stuck out of the creature's back, having run him through to no consequence. Hugh pushed at the bony chest with his free hand as the hilt of his sword pressed into his stomach. His wrist twisted as his sword hand was trapped at an odd angle. Eadward pinned him to the ground, feeling five times heavier than he could've possibly weighed.

“Pull him off,” Geoffrey hollered. Hugh's body jerked as they tried to free him from the man-beast's hold. Eadward gripped him tighter. “Get the head!”

“Stand back,” Thomas ordered.

Hugh's vision swam and bright spots of light made it hard to see. The fire danced all around him, heating his flesh as the stables continued to burn. Weakly, he mumbled, “Save the horses. They are the best of the stock.”

Thomas didn't appear to hear him. The sound of footsteps and yelling ensued behind his head and he knew his men had come to fight the fire. In the chaos, he saw Thomas above him, his sword drawn, his face tight as he swung the blade down. Hugh closed his eyes, his body braced—braced for hope of liberation from his pain, braced in fear that the strike wouldn't come fast enough. Water doused his head as more shouts sounded. Thomas screamed. Eadward's body jerked off of Hugh, releasing the pressure on his stomach, but the creature's gnawing head was still in place. Then, a fiery heat cut through his arm as Thomas didn't stop the swing of the blade in time.

Dizzy, Hugh opened his eyes to see Geoffrey pulling Eadward's head from his neck only to toss it into the flames. He heard the horses being led to safety, or was that pounding his own heart in his ears? He couldn't be sure.

“Blessed Saints, Hugh,” Thomas said at his side, trying to hold the wound on Hugh's arm as he dragged his brother out of the burning stables into daylight.

Hugh tried to answer, but it was too hard. Though he could hear, he couldn't speak, couldn't see what was happening around him.

“Easy, brother,” Thomas said, his voice strained, “remain with us.”

 

 

 

William moaned before taking long, deep breaths as he opened one eye. The chamber was dark and quiet, and an uneven surface jabbed against his back, uncomfortable but not unbearable. His body felt heavy, pulled, and it took a moment before he realized he hung from chains along a damp stone wall.

A prisoner? But whose?

His first thought was the giant, Lord Angus. While he slept, William dreamt of the giant's daughter, his mind stuck in a continuous loop of memory as their time together started and ended only to start again. As far as dreams went, it wasn't a horrific one for he had found pleasure in her arms, though their time together didn't end well. Lord Angus hadn't been happy to discover the tryst.

Did Angus find him and take him prisoner? Without light, it was impossible to tell where he was. He could very well be in a giant's dungeon or in a farfadet's. His feet touched the floor, but that wasn't a clue. Aside from the darkness and the chains, his senses were almost completely deprived of any outside stimulation. All was quiet, except when he moved.

It took some concentrating, but he remembered seeing the woman with violet eyes at Bellemare. She'd been magical, of that he was sure. A magical mercenary sent to the mortal realm to bring him to justice? By the feelings in his limbs, the tingling knowledge that magic surrounded him, he knew he'd been brought back to the immortal realm.

“Light. I need light,” he said to himself, racking his brain for the right spell to use. William struggled with his chains, but they were too secure. He doubted mere strength would free him of them. Looking around, he couldn't see anything in the pitch black. He sighed heavily and called out, “Ho! Does anyone there remember the spell to make light?”

 

 

 

Thomas paced outside his brother's bedchamber. Even though it was daylight outside, the hall was dim. The faint sound of a bell ringing followed by Hugh's weak cough made him stop his pacing so he could lean his head against the door. The physician had shooed him from the room as he worked applying herbs, burning incense and placing holy relics along the chamber to incite a recovery.

William was gone, completely disappeared. Word of Hugh's illness had spread, inciting a panic within the population of Bellemare. Charms were carried and placed through the castle and grounds. The small chapel was filled daily and the monk was up at all hours blessing the castle and pleading for deliverance against the wickedness that plagued them.

It had taken some doing, but Thomas finally convinced the monk that a crazed peasant had attacked Hugh and not an evil spirit. The stables had burned and any evidence to the contrary was hidden within the ashes. Though they managed to save the horses, many of the animals were ill from breathing smoke and a few were scarred by the fire. A couple of the stallions had been struck by fiery thatch from the stable roof and were in much pain. Killing horses was never a pleasant task but it was one that had to be done. Luckily, Geoffrey had taken care of the nasty business for him. Another one of the mares had lost her foal, leaving only one pregnant horse. Guards sat by the animal's side day and night to protect her. She was one of the last to get pregnant and it would be awhile until she delivered.

At times, Thomas would almost convince himself that it hadn't been Lord Eadward back from the dead, but then he'd see Sir Geoffrey's face and he'd know. Geoffrey was certain that William had been eaten by the creature that attacked Hugh. With little choice, Thomas brought Geoffrey into confidence, introducing him to the magical tenants of the castle. He only hoped the man recovered from the shock. The last time Thomas saw him, he still looked pale and shaken.

Rees refused to leave Hugh's side, though Thomas did have to warn the spright about interfering with the physician's work. The doctor came at a high price, but Thomas did what he must for the life of his brother. He'd sell everything they owned to save Hugh.

Until he knew Hugh's fate, he didn't feel right leaving to search for William, but the longer he waited the more he feared for William's life. Already he had the magical creatures trying to figure out a way to get him to the Otherworld. Heinic claimed he could brew a potion but it had been a long time since he'd done so. If there was a chance his youngest brother was alive, Thomas swore he would find a way to bring him home.

Once, a year ago, when they'd asked how to get from one realm to the other so they could come home, King Merrick had told them, “Your journey begins as any other, by walking out the front gate of the castle.” Easy for the King of the Unblessed to say, he had magical powers. Thomas had ridden out his front gate many times and only once did he ride into the Otherworld—and that was with William's help.

Thomas heard footsteps and pulled back from where he listened. Moments later, the door was opened and the physician came out. The man carried a bowl filled with blood.

“I have done all I could,” the physician said. “The wound on his neck and arm have been cauterized and I have bled as much poison as I could from his body.”

“Poison?” Thomas frowned.

“The poisons of the body. It is what causes the earl to be sick,” the physician explained, “though I would not doubt that some grave toxin seeped into his body from the injury. There are leeches on his chest above his heart. They should remain until the morrow. Then, take them off and throw them immediately into an old fire. Once the fire burns out, take the ash and bury it.”

Thomas nodded, noting the instructions.

“I must warn you.” The physician lowered his voice. “Even if the earl does heal, there is a chance he will have caught whatever madness possessed the man that bit him. I can tell by the wound that the man had sharpened teeth, not a good sign, perhaps a sign of witchery. Maladies of the mind are easily spread through bites and this one was so close to the earl's head. We can only hope the madness did not travel up, but down to his foot or hand. Then he will only shake in the limbs from time to time but be of sound mind. If it goes the other way, I fear the worst.”

“Many thanks.” Thomas stepped back, letting the man take the tainted bowl of blood past.

Though the chamber was stifling hot when he entered, Thomas didn't dare risk Hugh's health by putting out the fire. The earl's room was a large square, with the fireplace and a huge bed stuffed with straw and lined with feathers for softness. A large fur rug covered most of the stone floor. Hugh had a writing table, complete with parchments and wax. The family crest hung on one wall, matching the ring on Hugh's finger. Pulling a red, padded chair next to Hugh's bed, Thomas sat.

A faint odor was in the air, the smell of burnt flesh and incense. Hugh's chest was uncovered and two black leeches sucked from him. Thomas wanted to knock them off, but had to trust the doctor knew what he was doing.

“Foolish mortal,” Rees grumbled, appearing near Hugh's head. He patted the earl's hair back from his face. “Hurt Lord Bellemare with his potions.”

“They are necessary,” Thomas said. “He is the best physician I could find.”

The bed linens were discolored with Hugh's blood and the earl's pale, unmoving body was a terrible sight in contrast to the stains. His neck and arm were bandaged with cut linen. Thomas regretted hitting him with his sword, but didn't know how else to get Lord Eadward off. His arm had caught fire when he'd swung and someone had doused him with water to put it out as his blade made contact. It had thrown Thomas' aim off just enough to strike his brother.

Needing something to do, Thomas went to Hugh's trunk at the end of his bed and opened it, hoping to find an extra bed linen to replace the bloodied one. Lifting a couple of Hugh's tunics, he felt along the edge, down toward the bottom.

“Can I be of service?” Rees appeared suddenly inside the trunk, sitting on a pair of Hugh's breeches. Digging around, he pulled out a vial of bright blue liquid. “Huh, I wonder why he never used this. I put it right in here nice and safe.”

Thomas frowned, taking the vial. It was small, clear and cool to the touch. He lifted it to the light. “What is it?”

“A message,” Rees said, as if the answer were quite obvious.

“Like a warning?” Thomas' frown deepened. “A warning from whom?”

“Nay, like a message,” Rees said. “From the immortal realm. Halton and Gorman, your sister's sprights, delivered it.”

Magic.

Thomas took a deep breath and stood, moving closer to the fire as he looked inside it. Tiny bubbles floated within. He shook it, still seeing nothing. “I cannot…”

“Well, you wouldn't like that, would you? Shaking it up and down.” Rees snorted.

“How do you read it?”

“Read? You do not read message vials, you listen.”

Thomas held it up to his ear.

“Not like that,” Rees said, jumping up to grab it from Thomas. “It is a wonder you mortals communicate at all. Here, listen like this!”

“Wait,” Thomas protested as Rees lifted his arm and tossed the vial on the stone floor. The container shattered and blue liquid spread over the stone, forming a small puddle. Smoke rose from the bubbling center, swirling until it formed the image of his pregnant sister.

“Juliana?” Thomas automatically reached for her. She looked pale and worried, her face slightly swollen from her condition, yet ever beautiful. His hand fell through her like air.

“Greetings, my brothers,” Juliana said. Her voice was like a soft lullaby, a whisper from the past. Thomas stood in front of her, studying her face. Despite the pallor, she was attractive with long dark hair and wide blue eyes. Her eyes were like looking into his own. There was no doubt of their relation, though Juliana was definitely more feminine in appearance and demeanor than her brothers. The image of her stared straight ahead, not seeing him as she looked through him. “I hope this works. With the war, it has been hard to magically get messages out of our castle without them being seen and I would not have the Blessed King Ean thinking you were helping us. I love Bellemare and know you can understand my hesitance in seeing its blessing taken away. Unfortunately, my other alternative in communication was… Hmm, let us say that goblins are not the most trustworthy of couriers.”

“Oh, aye,” Rees nodded in agreement with her. “What she means is that they have been known to eat the messages. Trust me when I tell you that is one missive you do not want delivered.”