Rising Fire (21 page)

Brienne stopped him before he could follow her out of the keep.

“I will go the rest of the way alone, William. I will not be seen.”

“If you are certain?”

“Aye.” She took the first step away and then turned back to him. “It was more than I imagined it could be.”

“You are such an innocent,” he whispered, stroking her cheek. “Have a care as you go, Brienne.”

She ran down the steps and across the yard, pausing as a guard crossed several paces in front of her. Then she opened the door slowly and slipped inside.

Brienne almost floated to her chambers, ducking and hiding a few times when a servant passed, but she arrived in her room unseen. Once she caused the torch high up on the wall to flare brightly, drawing one servant's attention so that she could sneak past him.

Minutes later, she lay in her bed, thinking on all that had happened between her and William this night. As she drifted to sleep, she realized the failure in her plan.

She'd gone to him simply to seek pleasure and some memories she could hold on to in the coming days. She'd come back in love with the man who honored her even when she did not.

*   *   *

“She is back, my lord.”

The servant's whisper at his door was the word he waited on. He opened the door and dismissed him with a wordless wave of his hand.

Brienne and the warblood. Neither one could see what was plain to him—they had fallen in love right before his eyes. That mattered not. Though her virginity would have been an added gift to the goddess, using it to gain the warrior's cooperation was worth it. Once he'd taken the maidenhead of an innocent, his own honor would demand he protect her.

So that when Hugh took her north, the warrior would follow and do anything to save her. Even forfeit his claim to lands and his duty to the king. Then he and his powers would be Hugh's to command.

The girl was easy enough to manage—a few soft words and the name of her mother and she'd fallen into his hands to be molded and moved as he needed. Tonight had been the result. He knew she thought it her idea to pursue the knight, but a few subtle pushes and suggestions and she'd gone after him like a bitch in heat. Seeing the warrior's desire for her in his gaze, Hugh knew that he would not reject her when she followed him.

Hugh held the image of the torch outside her chambers in his thoughts and became that fire, re-forming there in the corridor. Opening her door, he walked in and stood over the bed where she slept. As he watched her sleeping, she murmured words in a whisper. He leaned in and tried to discern what she said, but they were slurred. Her body moved then, sliding on the sheets and arching. She was dreaming of sex. When she uttered the warrior's name, he nearly laughed aloud.

He left her chambers, using the candles in his chambers to draw him. Then he released his mirth and satisfaction. She had done her part and given herself to the warrior. On the morrow, he would invite William to join them—for a willing warblood would be easier to handle.

But, willing or not, virgin or not, William de Brus would be in Hugh's control and Brienne would be sacrificed once the gateway was open. Nothing else would matter after that.

*   *   *

William watched her leave, waiting until he saw her enter the family's residence before retracing his steps back to his chamber. Once in his chambers, he closed his eyes and remembered the expression on her lovely face when she'd seen him standing naked before her.

Most young women would be shocked or embarrassed, but not Brienne. He smiled then, thinking on the way she just studied him as though trying to commit his form and appearance to memory. Then she'd touched him and he was lost.

'Twas a miracle he had enough control to not ravish her. The way that her lithe, young body responded to his mouth and his hands challenged that control, but he won even as he lost. She became an extension of his touch, moving with him, following his caresses, opening to everything he stroked. Then she had been like fire in his hands, exploding in waves of heat and wetness as he brought her to completion.

Never in his life had he wanted to be inside a woman more than he had wanted with her. He'd wanted to fill her as she screamed out her pleasure. He'd nearly spilled his seed against her body, so close was he as she shuddered and rocked on his hand.

Even now, his cock reminded him of his failure.

But his heart knew the truth.

He could not take her virtue until she gave it to him. And she would not be ready to give it to him until her soul was her own and her heart was his. As he saw to his own needs in the silent dark of the night, he also knew the worst of it.

His heart belonged to her already.

But whether or not they would survive long enough for him to tell her was another matter.

“M
arcus?” She called out his name as she left her tent.

Marcus has not seen Aislinn since dawn, and he suspected she now had more to tell him. Her dreams came fast and strong now, tearing her from her sleep as the danger came closer with each day. From the terrible expression in her eyes as he walked to her, he knew it would arrive sooner than any of them had realized.

“You have been to the warrior's camp?” she asked as he reached her.

“They had to be warned.” Marcus looked at her then, understanding that she knew. “What did you see?”

“It begins now. The firebloods rise. The evil one wakes. Many will die.”

“William?” he asked, walking at her side as she glanced around their camp.

“The evil one tries to claim him. The firebloods are divided, but it may be too late for that to help.”

The signs had been clearer, and this was more than she'd seen before. As he watched, her eyes rolled back
and she rocked from side to side, raising her arms toward the sky. The words of an ancient prayer flowed through her, and she whispered it into the air around them. Even he could feel the amount of power flowing in this area, from Yester. Some was good, some evil, but all of it fed and strengthened her power to decipher the prophecy and find the location.

“We must be ready. We travel north, across the water north of Edinburgh. Into the lands to the northeast of Scotland. That is where the first circle lies.” A frantic nervousness filled her then, and she began to shake. Dropping her arms as her eyes cleared, she cried out, “He knows! He has been there!”

“Aislinn!” Marcus took hold of her and held her by her shoulders as she watched something in the air or in her thoughts pass before her eyes.

“Blood had been spilled at the circle. The evil one pushing her power across the barrier meant to keep her in exile,” she whispered, shaking her head. “So many centuries of waiting and it has begun.”

“Aislinn, breathe now,” he said, shaking her.

She clutched her hands over her ears, as though trying to block out some sounds. Aislinn could not help the warriors of destiny who would face the ancient one if she did not gain control over these visions, much as the warriors had to control the powers in their blood. He'd taught her such control, and together they prayed to the ancient six to aid her in her task. Finally, the shaking calmed and she faced him.

“Better, lass?” he asked, stroking her cheek.

She'd fallen to the ground, and now the rest of the priests surrounded them, drawn to the power of her prophecy. The horror in their gazes revealed what
they'd witnessed. Aislinn tried to stand, but her legs would not support her yet.

“Give yourself a moment or two,” he urged, even as he steadied her and helped her up.

“We must head north, Marcus, everyone.” Those gathered looked to Marcus, who nodded.

“Pack and ready yourselves for the journey north,” he said, pointing to a few of them. Then he spoke to the rest of them. “
A Warrior seeks the truth.
That is the first bloodline mentioned in the prophecy, and I believe we must wait for Sir William. He will lead us north.”

They were neither worldly nor human warriors and would need someone with experience in fighting and planning to lead them. Though he still questioned their history and his part in this, William's blood had risen. The huge, blue-skinned, single-minded warrior who'd crashed into their camp when he thought the fireblood in danger would be their protector—and
hers
. In spite of their attempts to teach him, it was his own self-doubt that held his powers at bay.

“Aye, Marcus. William will lead us once he comes to us. Be prepared to do what he tells you to do,” Aislinn confirmed.

The others scattered to do as she and Marcus bade them, and she stared off at the castle in the distance. In spite of some spell keeping it muted, it was no doubt the center of the evil one's power. It would begin there and spread out, evil trying to snuff out that which opposed it. He sent up prayers that they would all be strong enough to carry out their parts in this quest.

It began now, and by the time it was finished, the world could be brought to its end.

Gods have mercy.

*   *   *

William watched as the very large group began its trek out of Yester Castle. He counted more than three score soldiers escorting the lord's wife and daughter on their journey back to their lands in France.

“So many?” Roger asked from over his shoulder. “Do they travel through some hostile area I know not?”

“My thoughts as well,” he said. “Return to the camp. Send a man to follow them.” William turned to Roger. “Not to be seen.”

Roger nodded and left.

“Gautier and Armand, you both remain here until the castle is returned to its usual condition and then make your way back.”

“Will . . . ” Gautier began to argue.

“I plan to follow. We must get word to the king about the weapons cache even if I do not know its purpose yet. And I want you both well away from here.”

The strangeness increased with the dawn. A rumbling kind of sound, which he could feel around and within him, had woken him. He could feel it in his chest and with every breath. From the ashen faces of those around him, he was not alone in the experience.

“Get everyone ready to leave.”

“And go to . . . ?” Gautier asked.

Will shrugged. “Just be at the ready. Arms and armor,” he added.

It took some time for the large group to travel out of the yard, over the bridge and through the gates. As the carts, horses, and men on foot trickled out, William saw Gavin and the boy who'd kissed Brienne being led in by several guards. Tempted to follow, he stopped when Gavin met his gaze and shook his head slightly.

Bringing Gavin and the boy here, to the family's residence from their path, meant only one possible thing, and it was not good. He knew how men like Hugh controlled—through fear and pain. Pawns to be played. Was Brienne resisting Lord Hugh's plans, then?

A servant approached with a summons to meet with Lord Hugh, and William knew he would find out more. With a nod, he released Gautier and Armand, who would leave as soon as they could.

Following the servant, who kept glancing behind himself nervously, William paused inside the family residence. He looked down the corridor and listened for signs of the men, but found no trace of them. Lifting his head, he inhaled and knew they had been here.

Instead of going to the large chamber where they'd dined the night before or some other Presence Chamber, the servant trotted ahead, beckoning him to follow, up several stairways to a chamber on the top floor. They walked to the last chamber, and the servant knocked lightly, whispering his lord's name before he ran away.

The door was framed in a wood William had never seen and intricately carved with symbols and images. Most were unknown to him, but one caught his attention. It was the same battle-ax shape that was now burning in the flesh of his arm. But the one symbol used most often to decorate this frame was fire.

Brienne had some power over fire, which seemed to have come from Lord Hugh. Where did William's power come from? His beliefs in the world around him shifted in that moment as he finally accepted what Marcus had tried to tell him. It was not a good feeling.

If he had this power, then who else did? Who bore
the other symbols on the doorframe? And what powers did they carry?

The door opened and Brienne greeted him and bade him enter with a shy smile and a pale pink blush. She stepped back to allow him entrance.

Gavin's scent was here. He could smell it. Will glanced around the chamber and saw only Lord Hugh, sitting in a chair that was not unlike a throne. As he moved farther into the chamber and Brienne closed the door, the overwhelming odors assaulted his senses and he fought not to show his shock.

Pain and fear permeated the chamber and even the walls. Will had not imagined that those two things had scents, but he knew them now. Glancing toward Lord Hugh and attempting to approach him was nearly impossible due to the stench of dying and death. As he crossed the chamber to bow before the lord, the smoky smell of burning flesh and wood filled his nostrils and his gaze began to edge toward red.

And yet Brienne was unaffected.

Meeting her eyes, he knew that was not true—she was fighting something as well. Her mouth gave it away, her lower lip trembling as it did when she was nervous or afraid. In that moment, he knew he must get her out of here to safety. He must take her . . . now.

“My lord,” he began, as he rose from the bow. “I know this is precipitous, but I would offer for your daughter's hand in marriage.”

Brienne's shock showed immediately on her face, but before she could react, Lord Hugh's loud laughter filled the chamber.

“My bastard for the king's bastard, then, Sir William? Do you think it a good match?” Lord Hugh stood
and walked to Brienne's side, lifting her face as though examining her skin. “She is fetching—is she not?”

Will did not respond. His vision began to redden, and he took in a slow, deep breath, trying to force it out. He needed to be calm now. He needed to be in control. For her. For her.

“Was she what you expected in your bed? As fiery and lively as her mother was in mine?”

Brienne gasped and pulled from his grasp. “You knew?” she accused. “You knew I went to him?”

She did not deny or explain what had happened between them. She only studied her father's face, and then the realization of the extent and methods he used to control her crossed her lovely features. She raised her hand then, swinging toward Lord Hugh to slap him.

And froze in place.

When Will tried to reach her, he could not, for something—someone—was in his thoughts, stopping him. Every attempt to move resulted in crippling pain. His vision began to narrow and grow more red as he could only watch the scene before him.

No words were spoken between father and daughter, but some battle raged on between them. If Hugh was using the same pain against her, how did she survive it? When she crumpled to the floor at Hugh's feet with a cry, he knew the victor. Lord Hugh walked in front of Will, exerting his power against him to keep him immobile.

“You want her, William Warblood? She is yours. And you need not bind yourself to her in marriage, since I know you hope to find a more suitable bride to establish your line. Take her; use her; keep her or discard her when you finish with her.”

Hugh circled him, now chuckling, as Will tried to force his hold off. He'd used the same word or name that Marcus had in describing him—warblood. So Hugh knew.

“You need only to give yourself and your powers over to me and she is yours. But there is so much more at stake now. You can have your own kingdom. Establish your own bloodline and dynasty. Take what you want from the humans who will serve us. Take who you want. It can be yours with a word, Warblood.”

William continued to fight for control and failed as Hugh walked around him, taunting him, teasing him, tempting him to join this growing evil.

“Oh wait!” he said, a sarcastic bite in his voice. “It appears you cannot move.” Suddenly, the pain in his head increased, and he screamed against it . . . but no sound came out of his throat. His lungs would not take in air.

“You have a decision to make, William. You can accept your destiny and be at my side in the great endeavor to right an ancient wrong,” he said, continuing to walk around him. When he stood directly before him, he said, “Or you can watch her die before you do.”

The pain holding him there was so great, he could not even move his gaze to see her on the floor. His body shuddered and shook as he tried to change and could not. He could not even breathe. Some force held him in place and kept his warblood from rising.

“This is bigger than your quest for lands, King's Knight. This is bigger than your father the king or even Scotland. And by standing with me, you will gain more than you ever imagined you could. She is the least of it, but she can be yours.”

Then he was free, and he fell to his knees on the floor, dragging in huge gasps of air and forcing his lungs to breathe. Will tried to reach for Brienne who still did not move, but Hugh stopped him, stepping between them and dragging him back to his feet.

“Join me. Join us. I will show you how to use the power of your warrior blood as we travel north to accomplish our holy quest,” he whispered in the voice that every evil temptation used. “We will be invincible.” Then Hugh thrust him away toward the door and watched him through veiled eyes with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You have two hours, Warblood. Send your men packing and stand with us or fall with them.” Hugh lifted his head and nodded toward the hillside where Marcus hid.

“And Brienne?” he asked, unwilling to leave her behind. His senses told him he had no choice.

“She is alive until you make your choice.”

William knew he was lying, but he could not take the chance to challenge him on it. If she was alive, it was because Hugh needed her for some purpose, for some part of this “great endeavor” of which he spoke. Alone, he could not defeat this man who held such inhuman powers. He needed help and needed to get to them now. Will lifted the latch and was pushed through the door. When it slammed behind him, he could not open it again.

He ran, grabbing his horse and riding as fast as he could out of Yester Castle, with the terrible stench still in his nostrils. Brienne was in danger and he must find a way to get back to her and help her.

By the time he reached the hillside opposite his own
camp, he could barely keep his vision clear and his blood from seething through his body, changing it. But he would, because right now in this moment, it was the only way to save her. He jumped from his horse before it had even stopped and stood before Marcus and the young seer.