VirtualDesire Page 10

  Vad looked over his shoulder and shrugged. “Many are grateful to Nilrem for the wisdom he offers.”

  She stirred the growing pile of tributes with her toe. “Some payment. What’s he do? Cure disease?”

  “Only the gods can cure disease.” Dusting his hands on his thighs, he rose. “Try some.”

  An assortment of shoes and boots lay tangled in jewelry, leather belts, daggers, and cooking utensils. The items ranged from humble wooden bowls to objects as magnificent as the silver belt.

  A few moments later, he fitted her on the sword side with a silvery painted-leather slipper that might have been made specially for the long gown in which she’d appeared the night before, and for her shield side, a low boot that was down-at-the-heel.

  “Nothing matches,” she said, but he was glad she did not concern herself with the trifles of fashion. “Where do you think the other shoes are?”

  “Who can guess at the needs of a wise man?” Vad touched her shoulder. “How does your belly feel? I am sorry there is no water or food to offer you.”

  “What are we going to do? Aren’t you hungry? How am I going to get back to Ocean City? All I wanted to do was apologize. I felt really bad about calling you stupid. I was unkind. And now…” She paused and licked her full lips. “I see that all you said was true. This place does exist. I’m so, so sorry, and—”

  “Enough. I do not need your apologies.” She looked pathetically small and out of place. She was out of place, he reminded himself, as out of place as he had felt in Ocean City.

  He shoved the remaining shoes and objects back under Nilrem’s bed. “I am leaving.”

  Without a backward glance, he turned and went through the door.

  “Wait for me,” she called, stumbling in the mismatched shoes as she followed him. “Where are we going?”

  “First, to find you water. Second, we will seek Nilrem’s cave.”

  “I’m not very fond of caves.”

  Vad shrugged. “I, too, do not care much for caves. They are dark, wet, and oft-times inhabited by creatures.”

  She glanced about her and limped along. He imagined she could feel every pebble and twig on the sloping terrain. They walked quickly down the mountainside and into a row of trees.

  “When you say creatures, just what do you mean?”

  “Within the cave or without?”

  “Oh, let’s start on the outside.” She had to hurry to keep pace with him, as his stride was almost twice hers. Low brush caught at her hem, hampering her movement, but he did not pause to accommodate her. She must toughen herself or she would suffer all the more.

  “The white hart and hind graze Nilrem’s Hart Fell,” he began, to distract her from her feet. “They are sacred and never hunted, except by the Gulap.”

  “Gulap? I forgot all about them. Gulap means claw, doesn’t it?”

  Vad wanted to laugh at the way she glanced about her and hugged her arms around her waist, but stifled the temptation. Temptation. Aye. She represented many temptations. “The Gulap range these mountains, feline, fierce, and black as Samoht’s heart.”

  “Remind me not to run into either of them.” She glanced over her shoulder, anxiety written on her small features.

  He placed a hand on her shoulder. “A Gulap wants only the sweetest morsels—you are safe. And also we have snakes, much like the one about your snake man’s arm.”

  “That’s Neil, please.” A cold wind swirled about them. Gwen gathered her nightgown closer to her legs. “Geez, it’s cold here. I might as well be naked.”

  Naked. He did not want to think of her naked, either. “Other creatures you must fear are men. Outcasts range the foothills.”

  “You do know how to use that knife, don’t you?”

  Vad made an impatient gesture with his hand. “You would do better to be wary of men rather than the woodland creatures.”

  “Slow down. I feel dizzy. Anyone with…any…sense…”

  She stopped as if rooted to the hillside. Without a sound, she fell to her knees. Her eyes rolled up into her skull. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

  “Gwen?” Vad caught her as she slipped into unconsciousness. He touched her forehead. It was damp and cold, as were her hands. Gently he lifted her into his arms.

  The rest of the trek down the mountainside took twice as long as Vad would have liked, and it had nothing to do with the womanly burden in his arms. Once he needed to backtrack and take another ancient path. Few feet trod the way to Nilrem’s cave, and the markers were often obscured by lush vines. The cave was considered sacred. Unless invited, only Nilrem would venture there.

  They were not among the invited. Legend said that only evil would come to those who intruded. That was why the path was faint and ill-marked. But he did not believe in legend—not those of Tolemac or those of Gwen’s place.

  Legends were for ignorant slaves, and he was a warrior. He dealt in life and death, honor and truth. What he wanted from Nilrem was his wisdom, his common sense, his understanding of the intrigues of the Tolemac councilors.

  He came to a tumble of rocks in the hillside. The rocks were reddish in color now, not black and gray, as they had been higher on the mountain. A spray of water erupted from them and became a small stream flowing down the mountainside. In ancient times such springs, the source of the rivers, were sacred. When he placed Gwen on the ground, he thought that if such ancient tales held truth, it was good he had brought her here for revival.

  Using the hem of his tunic, he soaked it and touched it to her cheeks. As he drew the cool cloth over her lips, she moaned and stirred.

  “Vad?” she whispered. “Are you trying to get in my bed again?”

  “No, woman. And it was you who tried to get into my bed.”

  Gwen sat up and pressed her hands to her temples. “Oh, my head.” She looked about and up at the brilliant amethyst sky.

  He watched tears well in her eyes and down her cheeks.

  “I thought it was a dream.”

  Vad crouched on his haunches. “We have no time for your tears.”

  She wiped at her cheeks. “Well, I do! I’m thirsty. My head hurts. I’m in my nightgown in a stupid, purple place.”

  “Stupid? Did you not just offer your apology for speaking thusly to me?” He cupped his hands in the icy water and offered it to her. “‘Tis typical of a woman. I should have known your words meant nothing. You withheld the dagger. And now…”

  Gwen ignored his outstretched hands and crawled to the low stream bank. She scooped up the cool water, splashed it on her face, and gulped it down.

  “Sorry. I feel like a petulant child, but I can’t help it. I was calling this place stupid, not you,” she said. “I can’t believe you’re still miffed about the dagger. I did apologize. I told you, I thought you were playing a hoax on me. How was I to know you really were Vad and needed that knife? Can’t you put that behind you?”

  He looked over his shoulder. “What? Put what behind me? You speak in riddles.”

  “It’s an expression that means accept my apology.”

  Somehow her words did nothing to assuage the bubbling irritation he felt. “Your words come too late. Now move.” He took her arm.

  She stumbled along with him. They followed the stream downhill for at least a mile longer. As they hurried along, Gwen paused repeatedly to exclaim over the delicate ferns and tiny, bright red flowers nestled by the water’s edge. She asked their names.

  “We have no time for lessons,” he said with a grunt as the forest grew denser, the vines more thickly twisted about trunks and branches. The terrain sloped more steeply downward.

  Finally he halted. Gwen rubbed her arm where he’d held her, and he thought that although there were many times she’d wanted to free herself from his grip, there were also many other times she’d welcomed his hold as he boosted her over roots and jerked her out of the way of low branches.

  “Are you recovered yet?” he asked as she swayed and stumbled for the tenth time. />
  “Things are a little blurry still, and my head pulses with every step, but don’t let that hold you up.”

  The stream disappeared into a hillside covered with thick vines. Vad drew his long blade and hacked at the foliage. A maw of darkness appeared. It grew as he chopped and slashed. The stream did not end, but looked like it flowed into the hill.

  She planted her feet in the soft, muddy bank. “That’s a slit, not a cave. I’m not going in there.”

  He sighed. “You will find it opens up almost immediately, once inside…or so they say.”

  “Who’s ‘they’? Elves?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Elves? What are elves?”

  “Little magical people.”

  “We have small people, but they have no special powers.”

  He reached out and skimmed his thumb over her cheek, rubbing at a red spot high on her cheekbone. She sighed, the sound stirring a memory of the small sigh she’d given in response to his kiss. “I am sorry you are cold. I will give you my tunic.”

  Her small hands wrapped around his, preventing him from unbuckling his knife sheath. “No, absolutely not. You can’t give me your shirt. You’ll freeze.”

  The heat of her hands held his immobile. A mad desire to clasp her hands tightly against his belly swept through him, but then she jerked them away and pressed her fingertips to her temples.

  “Your head still troubles you, does it not? That is why you are so—”

  “Peevish? Irritable? Cranky?” She smiled up at him. It cost her greatly, he saw. “Yes, my head still aches, but now my feet hurt, too. I’ll try not to be so cranky.”

  “Cranky. I like the word. It is hard-edged, just like you.” Then he turned to the cave, using his blade to hack away the remaining vines and ferns and put the touch of her hands from his mind. “I fear all this growth indicates that Nilrem has not visited his cave in many conjunctions.”

  Gwen stood on a flat rock and peered into the shadows over his shoulder. “Look, isn’t that light in there?”

  Vad sheathed his knife. Before Gwen could protest, he hoisted her into his arms and stepped cautiously into the shallow, running water. It swirled in chilly rapids nearly to his knees, seeped into his boots, crept with icy talons into his composure. He turned sideways and eased his way past the cut vines. Gwen bit off a small scream as the cave claimed them.

  For several moments he stared forward into the gloom, putting aside his hatred of dark, dank places, seeking a glimmer of light. As his eyes adjusted, he saw it—an exit from the cave, curving off to the right on the far side of a huge cavern.

  “Loosen your hold, woman,” Vad said, his mouth to her ear lest his words echo about the chamber and alert whatever creatures, human or otherwise, inhabited the place. Her stranglehold eased.

  The rush of water filled the small space. Rock surrounded them, inches from his shoulders and head.

  The light in the distance grew and swelled, and they merged in a large, cavernous room lit by the opening in the opposite side through which the stream exited.

  Long, jagged dripstones hung from the ceiling. Lines of blue traced the walls like veins in an arm. “No wonder Nilrem treasures this spot for contemplation. ‘Tis filled with the sacred stone and must offer him its power.”

  “I thought you didn’t believe in magic?”

  “The power of a stone is not magic,” he said with a shrug. “Its possession, just for the mere pleasure of rubbing its smoothness between one’s fingers, can ease tension. And the stone does take on different hues depending on the wearer’s health—that surely is not magic.”

  “Point taken.” She rested her head on his shoulder, an intimacy he did not want. He dropped her to her feet with no warning, but she made no protest, merely rubbed her arms and crouched down by his side as he stirred the ashes of a fire long gone cold.

  He shook his head. “Nilrem has not been here in a very long time. There is no other entrance from his side of the mountain, either.”

  “Where does that opening go?” She pointed to where the stream flowed toward a bright, coppery light.

  He shrugged. “Out.”

  She frowned at him. “Of course. But where is out?”

  Gwen had difficulty keeping her temper. A few moments ago he was offering her the shirt off his back; now he was stiff and formal. His few smiles were quickly swallowed. This was not the man who’d kissed her with such passion at the ball. This was more like the man who had so cuttingly told her he did not wish her in his bed. Why did that thought raise a lump in her throat when she didn’t want him in hers, either?

  She much preferred the man at the ball. He would care that she was out of place and underdressed. She shivered. Dampness seeped into her mismatched shoes. They walked toward the light. As the cavern widened, a small beach of stones revealed itself, allowing them to walk on dry ground. There was a cathedral quality to the space. Even the stream seemed to have quieted as it flowed along. The high ceiling disappeared in black shadows overhead. How high it was, Gwen could not say. She tried to imagine an elderly wise man contemplating philosophy in such a place and succeeded. It was as filled with reverence as a church. The veins of turquoise and the gentle light held her mesmerized.

  Vad raised a hand, cautioning her to silence, and drew his knife.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  “I think I heard a man’s voice—not Nilrem’s.” With a quick nod in the direction of the cave’s exit, he crept toward the gleam of light—and whatever lay outside. She followed him, holding her nightgown high to prevent the hem from dragging in the watery puddles scattered about the cavern’s floor.

  They moved quietly along the curving, rocky wall. Ahead loomed a huge opening, decorated with hanging foliage. Light from the red sun bore down from above and dazzled the eyes. The stream widened and flowed from the cave’s mouth in an amethyst glitter, touched with sparkles of red. Gwen shielded her eyes.

  The far bank was a tangle of trees, festooned with deep green vines.

  Out of the verdant shadows stepped a woman. “Selaw,” Vad said, and pushed Gwen behind him.

  Chapter Eight

  Garbed in a long, green cloak, edged with purple and gold embroidery, the woman glided forward to stand at the stream’s edge. Her face was but a suggestion in the shadow of her hood.

  Gwen could feel the tension emanating from Vad’s body.

  “Stay back and be silent.”

  Gwen was about to bite off a retort about men who gave orders when she saw that the woman was not alone. Three men, garbed in green like the woman, emerged from the shadows behind her. They flanked her. She lifted a hand and they remained where they stood.

  The men were dressed in cross-gartered trousers, long tunics, and cloaks all in shades of green—and each held a long bow, with arrows nocked for flight. They blended well with the surrounding foliage. Gwen swallowed. There was something rather deadly about an arrow when it was pointed right at you, she thought.

  The woman swept off her hood. “Do you also seek the wise man?” the woman asked. Her voice was low and melodic. Her words carried well across the wide stream. The sun painted a reddish gleam on the dark blonde hair that tumbled about her shoulders.

  “What I seek is my business. What do you want here?” Vad held his knife loosely by his hip.

  “He has no sword,” one of the men in green said to the woman. “We can—”

  The woman lifted her hand, and the man fell silent. With another quick gesture from her, the men lowered their bows.

  “You appear to be a warrior,” the woman said. “You wear the Tolemac colors, but do not bear a sword. Why?”

  “What need have the Selaw of Nilrem?” asked, ignoring her question.

  “Even the Selaw have matters of concern that are outside the province of our healers and priests.”

  “That’s no answer,” Gwen said in a hiss at Vad’s shoulder.

  His shoulder twitched. ‘The Selaw are not welcome here.”

  Th
e men moved closer to the woman. They stood in deep, sylvan shadow, their intent hidden, their protection obvious.

  The woman made a small gesture with her hand, and the men stepped back. Her cloak skimmed the grass as she moved gracefully forward to stand on the edge of the opposite bank, still protected by her guardian archers. “Nilrem has always made me welcome.” She lifted her arm. Gwen tensed for some signal to fire, but instead the woman opened the throat of her cloak and pulled out a long silver chain that ended in a lump of turquoise. “A gift from the wise man.”

  Vad nodded. “Come forward to the cave—alone.”

  The woman tipped her head and stared at Vad for a moment, then nodded. She turned to her companions and spoke softly, then walked along the stream bank to a spot where erosion had cut a path to the stony beach of the stream, lifted her skirts, and stepped delicately down the incline. Her path took her to the water’s edge. There she untied her low green boots, set them on a stone, lifted her skirts to mid-calf, and stepped into the water.

  Gwen thought of a water nymph, or a green swan come to life. In a few moments the woman had reached Gwen’s side of the stream, where she dropped her hem.

  She and Vad joined the woman, but not before Vad assured himself her men were still standing on the far bank.

  As though reading Vad’s mind, the Selaw woman spoke. “They would not think to disobey me.”

  “Why does a woman of the Selaw seek a Tolemac wise man?”

  “First,” she said, “who are you?”

  “Who are you?” Vad countered.

  “I am called Ardra.”

  “What need has a Selaw woman with a Tolemac wise man?” he asked again.

  The woman paced back and forth at the cavern entrance. The coppery light shone on her long tresses, which cascaded from her shoulders nearly to her waist. Her stride was so graceful, she seemed to float. Her face was a pale oval, her brows delicately arched, her cheekbones high and patrician, her lips full and sensuous. She reminded Gwen of someone advertising ski holidays in the Alps, except for one stunning feature that set her apart from most other women—her amber eyes.