Midnight Warrior

  “Christ. Is there nothing you can do?”

  She wasn’t sure—it was like stumbling in the darkness. Gage was spiraling so deep, she wasn’t certain she could reach him.

  Yet she had to reach him.

  Malik knelt beside her, his face strained. “What can I do? Do you need your herb bag?”

  Herbs? She gazed at him incredulously.

  “He cannot die,” Malik said hoarsely. “There has to be something.…”

  “I cannot reach him.” She held him desperately closer. He was drawing farther and farther away with every passing moment. “Don’t you understand? I cannot reach him.”

  “I won’t believe you will let him die,” Malik said roughly. “Think.”

  She could not think. The pain was too overwhelming. Gage’s pain … Her pain … One.

  One. She had been one with Gage before, she remembered suddenly. The night his father had died. She had touched him, joined with him, and his pain had eased with the sharing.

  But that had been emotional, not physical healing. To yield herself totally to a joining with a dying man …

  “What is it?” Malik asked.

  “I cannot stand apart … but if I can become one with him … I might be able to reach him and make him let me heal.”

  “I do not know what you mean.”

  She had no time to explain it any clearer. This was her only hope. She lay down on the grass and wrapped her arms around Gage, her palms carefully covering both wounds. No heat. No tingle that denoted healing. No pain. It was the latter that frightened her, for it was a sign that he was slipping away.

  “Brynn?”

  “I’m going to sleep,” she said, fading into the darkness. It would not be sleep, but she did not know how else to describe the journey into that shadowy realm. “You mustn’t touch us until I wake.”

  “Let me take you to the castle. It will be night soon. I cannot leave you and Gage lying here in the forest.”

  “You must not touch us,” she repeated fiercely. She closed her eyes. “Not until I wake.”

  “How long …”

  Perhaps never. If she succeeded in linking with Gage, there was every chance he would take her with him if he was swallowed up in that darkness. “However long it takes.”

  She could sense Malik’s distress, but she deliberately shut it out as she surrendered herself to the spiraling blackness surrounding Gage.

  I’m coming, beloved. Wait for me.

  “They’re so terribly still,” Adwen whispered, as she stared at the two rigid figures wrapped together a short distance away. “Are you sure they’re still alive?”

  Malik nodded as he reached out and stirred the wood in the fire. “They live.”

  “It’s been hours.” Adwen’s nails bit into her palms. “I hate this waiting. I want to do something.”

  “We have done all we can.”

  “We’ve built a fire for warmth and thrown a blanket over them,” she said impatiently. “There has to be something more.”

  “If there is, Brynn is doing it.” He glanced up from the fire. “You are beset by guilt, but Gage’s wound was no fault of yours. Richard was not pursuing a wife, he was after the treasure.”

  “I know.” One part of her knew this truth, but Richard had trained her too well in guilt over the years. The woman was always to blame. “It is just … I love Brynn. If she had not come to Redfern when I was ill, if she had not helped me …”

  “If the comet had not appeared in the heavens and stiffened William’s determination. If I had not let the Saxons wound me.” He smiled sadly. “You see, we can go on forever allotting blame. Accept it as fate, Adwen.”

  “If I accept it as fate, then I’m helpless. I’ve been helpless too long.” She paused. “Do you think we should return Richard’s body to England for burial?”

  “No, I have no intention of digging up that vermin.”

  She glanced at the forest where Malik had dragged Richard’s remains and buried him before he had gone to get her. “Then should we get that priest from the village to move him to consecrated ground?”

  “And have them start a wolf hunt that might kill Selbar?” Malik shook his head. “I choose the wolf over your husband’s eternal soul. He has far more worth.”

  She did not argue. Richard had damaged too many people in her life and might take even more toll this night.

  She looked again at Brynn and Gage, locked together, still as marble. Yet not really immobile, Adwen realized suddenly. She could sense vibration, intense turmoil, swirling beneath the surface.

  “What’s happening, Malik?” she whispered, startled.

  Malik could sense that struggle also. “I think she’s fighting the dragons. May God be with her.”

  He would not listen to her, Brynn realized in despair.

  She had not expected it to be like this. She had not expected the joining to include remembrance.

  Poignant memories from the boy Gage, lonely, defiant, unwilling to admit to any weakness.

  Hardraada, Father, accept me. I can be anything you need.

  Towns burning, blood, rape. It sickens me. Is it enough? Accept me.

  Rejection. Hurt. Weariness. Then I will go my own way. I do not need you.

  Byzantium. Too alien. Learn it. It’s no more alien than Hardraada’s world.

  Silk and cinnamon, dark-skinned slaves, barren desert, burning sunlight, camels … Malik.

  The memories whirled, almost too fast to comprehend. She reached through them desperately, trying to catch hold, trying to make him understand.

  Listen to me, Gage. I’m part of you; past, present … forever. Right now you’re weak but I’m strong. You need that strength. Take it. Believe in me. Use me.

  Dear God, listen to me!

  “Your hands—are hot.”

  Gage’s voice.

  Brynn fought her way up out of the darkness and opened her eyes.

  He was staring into her eyes. “Hot—take—them away.”

  She was suddenly aware that her palms covering his wounds were warm, tingling, healing.

  Thank you, God.

  “Brynn?”

  “Shh.” She spread her fingers, feeling the power course through her. “It is a good heat. Close your eyes and go back to sleep.”

  He shut his eyes and a moment later drifted away.

  Malik was suddenly there beside her, but he was a blur. She was only aware of Gage and the power she was channeling to him.

  “Gage?” Malik said. “I have to know, Brynn.”

  “Better.” She closed her eyes, concentrating. “Go away. I’ve no time for you now.”

  “Anything you say,” Malik said huskily. “Whatever you want.” She heard him walking away, muttering jubilantly, “Better! She said he’s better, Adwen.”

  Fifteen

  She was sitting on the stone hearth, combing her hair.

  Gage had always loved watching Brynn run the comb through that bright tangle. He had a fleeting memory of that night in the tent at Hastings when she had laughed and run the comb through Malik’s beard. Now the firelight set the gold threads in her brown hair glowing with life and—

  Firelight? Hearth?

  He remembered only the forest and—pain, tearing pain in his back—

  “Did the wolf—” God, his throat felt painfully dry and he was croaking like a frog. He tried again. “Selbar—”

  She went still and then looked down at him with a luminous smile. “It’s time you woke. It’s been more than three weeks, and I need help. I cannot be expected to do everything myself.” She reached over and poured water into a wooden goblet. “But you’ll find it easier to speak if you drink. I’ve been wetting your lips and getting you to swallow a little water and broth, but your throat must still be very dry.” She lifted his head and helped him swallow. “Better?”

  He nodded, his gaze going around the room. The council chamber. He was lying on a pallet in the council chamber at the castle. “How did—”

&
nbsp; “We brought you here as soon as I was sure it was safe to move you. I knew it was going to be a long time before you were fully healed and we couldn’t stay in the forest. The weather had turned cold.” She glanced at the tapestry in which Hevald was knighting the squire. “And I thought it was possible I might have a little help here.”

  But how had he been wounded, dammit? “Selbar?”

  “It wasn’t Selbar. It was Richard. He stabbed you in the back.”

  Christ, he should have been more alert. He had been so intent on tracking the wolf that he had let his guard down. “Stupid …”

  “You’re not stupid,” she said fiercely. “You were trying to help me,”

  “Stupid.”

  “Stubborn,” she substituted. “And unwilling to listen to anyone’s opinion but your own. You should have learned your lesson at Svengard when you almost had your head severed from your shoulders for your obstinacy.” She set the goblet down. “But why should I argue with you? You were certainly stupid to try to deceive me and run off to contend with Selbar yourself.”

  “Afraid … for … you.”

  “I know,” She smiled. “As I was for you. But it was not Selbar we had to fear. He killed Richard and saved us both.” She put her hand on his lips. “I’ll tell you the rest later. It’s time you slept now.”

  He would have no choice; that dark lethargy was creeping over him again. “Malik?”

  “He’s well. I sent him and LeFont back to Hastings.”

  “Hastings?”

  “To get your ships and bring them here. A long journey by land would not have been good for you.”

  He frowned. “It will … take him too … long.”

  “No, it won’t. He should be here by spring.” She stroked his hair back from his face. “And you will not have gained full strength until then.”

  “Wrong …”

  “I hope I am. You must prove it to me.”

  He was too weak to even argue, he realized with disgust. “I will … later.”

  “Do that.” She pulled the blanket higher about him and rose to her feet. “But rest now while I go tell Adwen and Alice that you’ve finally deigned to wake and return to us.”

  He was drifting off to sleep when he remembered the words that had almost been lost to him in the other news she had given.

  Svengard. He was sure he had not mentioned that boyhood debacle in Norway. How had she known.…

  “Adwen! Alice! He’s awake!” Brynn said as she ran into Adwen’s bedchamber.

  Adwen looked up from her loom. “Why are you so excited? You kept telling me that it was only a matter of time.”

  “But he took so long. Three weeks … I couldn’t understand it. I knew he was gaining strength.” The worry and excitement she had not allowed herself to show Gage was bursting from her. “I should have known he would take longer than usual. What a stubborn man.” Brynn snatched her cloak from the hook on the wall. “I can’t stay inside. Do you want to take a walk with me?”

  “It’s snowing outside.”

  “I don’t care. I have to get out. The snow started only a few hours ago. Alice?”

  “And skid on those slippery stones in the courtyard? I don’t want to have this babe tonight.” Alice smiled indulgently. “Go on. Take as long as you like. You haven’t left his side since he was wounded, I’ll look in on him for you,”

  “You won’t need to do that. He’s asleep and won’t wake for hours. I won’t be long.” She left the chamber and ran down the stairs and out the front door. She stopped and took a deep breath. The air was cold and still, the thick drops of snow falling to the earth without a hint of wind. It was nearly twilight and it was a gray-and-white world; the stones of the courtyard were covered with a layer of snow.

  Beautiful snow. Beautiful Gwynthal. Beautiful world.

  He was awake and back with her again. She felt a surge of happiness so intense, she felt like dancing across the courtyard. Instead, she proceeded more cautiously as she strode toward the drawbridge; Alice was right, there might be ice beneath the snow.

  She had almost reached the gate when she saw the prints in the snow.

  She stopped, inhaling sharply. Four prints, clear and unmistakable.

  Paw prints.

  Selbar.

  She moved slowly forward, her eyes on the snow, trying to read the wolf’s movements. He had come only as far as a few yards inside the gate and then must have sat down in this spot to gaze on the castle. There was a flurry of disturbance in the snow as if he had leapt to his feet, turned, and run back toward the drawbridge. Had that been when he had seen her come out of the castle?

  She moved slowly toward the drawbridge. He would not be there, she told herself. It had probably been some fleeting memory that had drawn him to the courtyard, where they had spent so many hours. She must not hope. He did not remember her. He did not trust her. He was probably already deep in the forest with his pack.

  She stepped through the gate.

  Selbar was standing at the end of the drawbridge, facing the castle, as if waiting for her.

  She stopped, staring into those wild golden eyes.

  Moments passed while the snow fell softly between them like a veil of years gone by.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  Selbar tilted his head at the words. Did he only recognize her voice or did he somehow understand?

  He turned and darted into the forest.

  For an instant she felt a pang of regret. Then a warm ripple of contentment flowed over her. He had come back to her. She knew it could never be quite the same. Life had changed both of them, but the bond was still there.

  Selbar was like Gwynthal, she realized suddenly. She had made the mistake of coming back to both expecting everything to be as it was when she had viewed it through a child’s eyes. She must accept the changes in Gwynthal as she had in Selbar. Then, if she was fortunate, someday they would both be fully her own again.

  During the next three days Gage did little but eat and sleep and eat again. It was common at this stage of healing, but Brynn was astonished at the strength and stamina he gained with every passing moment. She supposed she should not have been startled; Gage was recovering with the same relentless determination with which he usually confronted life. Gage might well prove her wrong and be fit before Malik returned in the spring.

  On the third night after he had first awakened, she was settling down beside him on his pallet when he asked, “How did you know about Svengard?”

  For an instant she didn’t know to what he was referring and then remembered the absent remark she had made. “You must have told me.”

  “I didn’t tell you. I would remember. Richard’s knife struck me in the back, not the head.”

  “Can we not speak of this later?”

  “No. I need to know. Lately, I’ve been having very unsettling—I need to know.”

  “Unsettling what?”

  “Tell me.”

  “You won’t like it.”

  “Tell me.”

  She sat up again and sighed resignedly. “I couldn’t reach you. I had to link with you.”

  He frowned. “Link? What is that?”

  She shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know. I’ve never done it before. I was feeling what you were feeling and it was getting in the way. I couldn’t heal you. The only thing I could think to do was to give in to it and—” She stopped.

  “What?”

  “Be you,” she whispered. “I had to be part of you. Only I didn’t know—memories.”

  His eyes widened. “You’re saying you—”

  “I didn’t want to do it. I know it was a terrible intrusion,” she said frantically. “It was the only way—”

  “You’re right, it would be a damnable intrusion … if I believed it had happened.” He paused. “Prove it to me.”

  “Svengard,” she said. “You said that—”

  “Not Svengard. Tell me about Delmas and the stable that night.”

 
She should have known that would be his first thought. “You were angry. You wanted to kill him.” She shuddered. “You intended to kill him. You knew he was in the stable. The door was half open and you heard him whimpering as you walked into the stable.” She closed her eyes as the ugly memory came flooding back to her. “He was pinned to the wall by the pitchfork. He was begging to be let down. You were tempted to leave him there, but you knew he was dying. You took the end of the pitchfork and jerked it out of the wall.…”

  “And if I didn’t kill him, who did?”

  “You suspected Richard. You think Delmas went to him in a rage and Richard killed him and then sought to arrange the aftermath to his own advantage.”

  “By God, you do know.”

  She opened her eyes and whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you. It won’t happen again. I know now you would never lie to me.”

  “Certainly no one could know me better,” Gage said caustically. He looked away from her. “Christ!”

  “I told you that you wouldn’t like it.” She added defensively, “It’s not as if I had any desire to know your thoughts and memories. Some of them were very embarrassing.”

  His gaze shifted back to her face. “Such as?”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. “The harlot at the house in Zenvar.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “There was nothing godly about what happened there. I thought what you did with me was wicked, but that was truly sinful.”

  “Just … different.” He suddenly started to laugh. “What a predicament. I can’t believe it.” He shook his head. “Or I wish I didn’t believe it.”

  His anger was leaving him, she realized with relief. It had not been nearly as bad as she had feared. She suggested tentatively, “At least, it was a good thing I learned you had no guilt in Delmas’s death.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you would have died if I hadn’t done it.”

  “A persuasive argument.” He scowled. “But no amount of persuasion is going to make me like this … this nakedness.”

  “I know.” She paused. “So you will just have to accept it, as you told me I would have to accept Delmas’s death. It took time, but I did it.” She added softly, “Because I love you with all my heart.”