Chapter 4
Two Abducted
“I will join you in five days, lover,” Sarah whispered into Alaric’s ear as they embraced in front of the door. “Just enough time to settle affairs and say my farewells.”
“I believe these will be the longest five days of all my life,” he groused. “I want you to travel with me, so I can be the one to protect you, keep you safe.” He brushed her hair back, pausing to cradle her face in his hands.
“You know that is not our way,” she reprimanded him softly. “I must come to you freely, with my own escort, of my own choice.”
“Damn the old ways, just this once,” he implored, holding both of her hands in his. “I have concerns about this. I do not want you to travel alone.” He pulled her close. “I do not want to travel alone,” he murmured longingly as he stroked her hair, breathing deeply to imprint her herbal scent.
“We have done everything else, we can do this as well, love,” she encouraged him. “To your horse, Lord Alaric, Bearer of the Fuíl. I shall join you soon,” she bantered, pushing him playfully towards his mount.
Reluctantly, he turned and mounted. Waving sadly, he turned his horse and spurred it towards the gate, confident his cohort would follow. They did.
Five days later, Sarah stood in her empty rooms, staring into the mirror. She fingered the emerald dragon on its chain, lost in thought until Iccios knocked, asking if she was ready to depart. He pushed open the door, and embraced her, holding her close, with her head tucked under his chin.
“I will see you soon, sister,” he whispered to her. “With the next rising moon.”
“Yes, I know, but I shall miss you dearly. Miss our home, my friends, the coven,” Sarah complained softly.
“I know, but this will become easier. You will make new friends. You are joining a new clan. You will be with your husband,” he soothed her. She sighed and stepped away, heading for the door. “We will be together for the sabbats.”
“This will be a long moon cycle,” she stated before leading him out of her rooms. Outside, she waved goodbye to Iccios as she nudged her graceful dapple gray stallion out of the gates.
Iccios waved to her, his wife muttering at his side. “Surely she could ride in the wagon like a proper Lady?”
Iccios chuckled putting his arm around her. “When have you ever known Sarah behave like a proper Lady?”
“True, love. Very true,” she agreed. “I shall miss her.”
“We shall all miss her,” he added, wishing he could rush forward and stop her, keep her safe with them but knowing he could not flaunt tradition. The guards flanked Sarah and they disappeared down the road. They traveled rather quickly since Sarah shunned riding in the wagon and was quite capable of keeping pace with the men folk.
“Lady Sarah,” Ennis respectfully addressed the Mistress. “I would be so much more comfortable if you would deign to ride inside the wagon, protected.” The Captain attempted to explain his uneasiness. “You are very exposed in the open.”
“I know, Ennis. I just cannot stand the tedium,” she explained as they rode easily, side by side, down the narrow road. “I have ever been a lounging lady,” she confessed.
Ennis chuckled as his eyes searched the trees. “I realize that, dear Lady. Just normally, we are moving at a much faster pace. You make a hard target when we aren’t waiting for a heavy wagon.”
Sarah laughed, her eyes twinkling. “I would be glad to ride ahead!”
“As would I!” Ennis agreed. “But we are not heavily armed or protected. We stay with the wagon.”
As they neared a clearing where Ennis had hoped to camp for the night, an armed party of Aedui, their dark swirl tattoos identifying them clearly, ambushed Sarah’s traveling party, catching them as they rose from the sheltered valley where they had been traveling.
“Halt!” one of the warriors called out. Archers trained their sights on the traveling party. “We seek Lady Sarah, Healer, Protector of the Fuíl!”
“I am Lady Sarah,” she called out proudly, nudging her mount forward. “What business do you have with me?” she challenged, not even attempting to conceal her anger.
“Lord Ulrich of the Aedui sends us to demand the Talisman,” the warrior called out as he rode to the forefront.
“Lord Ulrich of the Aedui is going to be very disappointed as I no longer protect the talisman,” she replied coldly, her lips pressed tightly together.
The poor man’s eyes widened impossibly, and he swallowed hard, afraid to look at his companions. “Pardon?” he requested clarification, obviously hoping he had misheard her statement.
“I do not have the Fuíl. Chieftain Ulrich has sent you on a fool’s errand,” she replied haughtily.
“Now what should we do?” the warrior to his right whispered harshly.
“Take her back to Ulrich anyway. Let him deal with this!” the man on his left hissed back.
“I do not know,” the first shot back. “To kidnap a witch?”
“To return to Ulrich – empty handed?” the second replied harshly.
“You will come with us and explain to Chieftain Ulrich,” the leader decided.
“If I choose to decline your invitation?” Sarah queried with heavy sarcasm and an unnerving calm.
“You will all die here,” he threatened, posturing for position. “We do outnumber your small party greatly,” he pointed out needlessly.
Sarah narrowed her eyes at the man. “Well, that would be less than ideal,” she snapped. “I will accompany you to meet your Chieftain Ulrich of the Aedui.” She waved off her guards with a small motion of her hand. “May the gods have mercy on your souls should any harm befall me,” she threatened in low voice, only for her captain, Ennis, to hear. He nodded at her gravely, acknowledging her decision begrudgingly. His eyes implored her to let him fight. She shook her head ever so slightly, denying him.
With her guards severely outnumbered, she acquiesced to their demands without a fight, riding off with them as her guards stayed behind in shock, enraged. Quickly, Ennis mustered them into teams. They divided into three groups, two riders speeding towards their original destination; two riders, Ennis and his counterpart, Barra, stalking off behind the war party, and two proceeded forward slowly with all of Sarah’s belongings.
Two silent days later, the war party arrived at Ulrich’s keep. Tarin, the Master at Arms for the Aedui met them at the gates, eager to finish with the kidnapping business his Chieftain had set in motion. He consulted with the Captain who gestured wildly, aggravated, at Lady Sarah who pretended to study her dragon pendant, ignoring them.
“Lady Sarah,” Tarin addressed her with the deepest respect he could muster. “If you would please come with me to speak with Chieftain Ulrich, I am certain we can clear up this misunderstanding and return you to your husband without further delay.”
“I should be delighted to end this side trip, sir,” she replied calmly. Tarin moved to assist her with dismounting only to find that she sprang lightly to the ground without his help.
Sarah strode regally through a strange great hall. She looked neither right nor left, solely focused on the chieftain resting in the throne-like chair at the head of the table at the very far side of the hall. The dark-haired Chieftain arched an eyebrow at his Master at Arms, clearly in silent question. Tarin rolled his blue eyes in exasperation.
The kidnappers scurried beside her inelegantly, trying to keep pace with the tall Priestess. She advanced all the way to the table with a grim look of determination on her face.
“My Lord Ulrich, may I present Lady Sarah?” Tarin introduced her properly.
“Yes, yes,” he answered dismissively, leaning forward eagerly, leering at her as he did. “Just surrender the Fuíl! There was no need for kidnapping!”
She slammed both palms down on the table in front of Ulrich and snarled, “How dare you take me hostage!” Her emerald green eyes blazed with the fire of righteous fury.
“If you would have surrendered the talisman, this would have been completely unnecessary,” Ulrich retorted as he inched backwards in his chair.
“If the morons you sent to steal the Fuíl would have listened, you would know that I do not have the talisman!” she shouted. “Why doesn’t anyone pay attention to the old ways?” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Every seventy years and seven days, the talisman changes protection!”
Ulrich’s eyes grew wide and alarmed. He cast a glance at Tarin for confirmation.
“Yes, m’Lord. They informed me as soon as they entered the gates, but it was too late. They had already brought her here,” Tarin corroborated her story as leaned in to speak quietly to the Chieftain.
He turned his full attention back to the fuming woman before him. He was struck by the full effect of her raven-haired beauty; her red lips pressed firmly in a disapproving line, her hair cascading over one shoulder and the firelight danced along its blue-black waves. He studied her carefully, vainly trying to hide his concern.
“If the talisman changed protections, who does it protect now?” Ulrich inquired with displeasure.
“My betrothed protects it, Chieftain,” Sarah murmured smugly.
Tarin did not mask his alarmed hiss. “Alaric!” His hand shook slightly as he instinctively reached for his sword, eyes searching the entranceway.
“Once more, your utter ignorance appalls me,” she addressed Ulrich directly, ignoring Tarin’s dismay. Haughtily, she peered down her nose at Ulrich, fighting to control her temper.
Ulrich paused for just a moment, then smiled greasily, purring, “Ah, the noble Alaric,” he scoffed. “It would have been much easier if you had maintained the talisman.” He let his head drop back to stare at the heavy wooden beams of the ceiling. He drew a deep breath, speaking to the ceiling, “I wonder if he would ransom his dear bride’s virtue with the precious ruby?”
Tarin’s eyes grew wider, more alarmed. He alone could see the shadows dancing across Sarah’s face. He chanced a glance at Chieftain Ulrich, praying to all the gods and goddesses that the man would think of the consequences, for once in his life. “My Lord …” he whispered warningly. Ulrich waved him off.
Sarah took a step back, crossed her arms, tucking her hands into the heavy sleeves of her cloak and peered down her rather aristocratic nose at the smug Chieftain.
“Surely you jest,” she answered in a dangerously flat voice, her blue eyes lit with a strange light.
“No,” Ulrich said with a shrug. “You’re already here. I am not above sullying you before your wedding to garner what I need. Hells, I might even enjoy it.”
Sarah threw her head back, laughing; sarcastic gales of laughter that rose up to be absorbed by the thick wooden ceiling and upset all of the bystanders.
“I am the High Priestess. I have been the High Priestess since my mother’s unfortunate demise. Do you really have such little knowledge of what my role requires to think that you could possibly steal my virtue?”
Her reaction clearly unsettled Ulrich. His attempt to unnerve the delicate appearing woman obviously failed. Her entire being radiated anger and barely controlled power.
“Your ignorance of the old ways is inexcusable, Lord Ulrich. It may be your undoing.” She glowered at him, curling her lip in disgust.
“How so, little one?” Ulrich challenged her, undaunted by the mere woman.
“Firstly, to even think at my age and station that I even remotely could be considered a virgin-bride,” she growled. “Or that Alaric and I have not already sealed the bond for the Fuíl’s protection.” She shook her head, disappointed and angry. “After all, what use would you have for the Fuíl? You must have a mage to channel the power, after all? Ignorance, chieftain. Ignorance.”
“I have the child of the prophecy,” Ulrich threw the words at her as punishment, confident his revelation would stagger the haughty witch.
“A mere child? Untrained, untested? How do you expect a child to control or channel the power of the Talisman?” Sarah mocked his grandiose assumption.
“He will learn to use the Talisman as I choose,” Ulrich threatened again.
“Ah, I see. Very confident in your abilities to manage a sacred gemstone? I suppose you thought your warriors, here,” she paused to motion derisively at the two men who flanked her, “disarmed me as well?”
In a smooth motion, astonishing to the men around her, Sarah slid a double-sided dagger from her sleeve, wielding it in her left hand. The glinting of the flames on the highly polished blade distracted everyone from noticing that her right hand held her wand. “Take me to the child and no one will be harmed.”
“Really?” Ulrich raged, leaping to his feet. His face mottled red.
“Yes!” she shouted back at him, twisting her wrist in the smallest but most graceful of spins and casting a powerful shield spell that knocked all of the people to her right against the tables, into the walls as well as each other.
“You cannot fight your way out of here!” Ulrich sputtered, leaning towards her menacingly.
“Perhaps not,” Sarah threatened in a low voice, only for Ulrich to hear. “But I will inflict the most damage I can conjure before you kill me. May the gods have mercy on you and yours as mine avenge my murder.”
Ulrich stuttered. Sarah cut off his next statement with a hissing whisper. “Take me to the boy. Now.”
“He is unharmed, Mistress Sarah,” Tarin interjected, valiantly offering his Lord a way out.
“I will judge that for myself, sir,” she demanded more civilly but with iron in her voice.
“By your leave, m’Lord?” Tarin bowed to Ulrich. Ulrich struggled to hide his confusion. “Take her offer, Ulrich,” Tarin hissed under his breath. “Diffuse the situation.
“Yes! Remove the witch from my sight!” Ulrich roared as he fell backwards into the chair in exasperation. As Sarah swept from the hall, escorted by Tarin, he banged his mug on the table, summoning the wide-eyed serving wench who scurried to refill it and speed away to hide in the shadows out of his reach.
Tarin guided Sarah through the halls to the room at the far end. He knocked on the door. A tall guard stepped out as he opened it.
“Lady Sarah to see the boy,” Tarin greeted him coolly.
“Yes, Master Tarin. He rests in the bedchamber.” The guard nodded to Sarah and respectfully held the door for her.
“Bren?” Sarah called out softly. “Bren? Are you sleeping?”
“No, ma’am,” the young lad answered as he padded towards the door.
“Master, you will leave us to talk privately,” Sarah commanded, not bothering to look at Tarin.
“By your leave, Lady Sarah.” Tarin bowed though she was not looking, and escorted the guard outside the door as well.
Sarah waited until she heard the door close. She held out a hand to Bren who took it warily. She led him over to the chairs set in front of the fire and urged him to sit down.
“Do you know who I am?” she inquired gently.
“No ma’am. I’m sorry,” he added.
“Please, no need to be sorry! I realize your father has neglected your education in the old ways just a bit. I am Sarah, Priestess of the Fuíl.”
“Oh!” he gasped. “Have you come to take me away?”
“Oh, Bren,” she said sadly. “I wish I could take us both away. Alas, I was captured and brought here as a hostage as well.”
Bren sighed, pouting just a bit. “No matter, m’Lady. My father will rescue us.”
“I certainly believe so!” Sarah acknowledged his faith in his father. “Have they hurt you?”
“No, m’Lady, for the most part, they have just left me alone in these two rooms.”
“Good!” Sarah patted his knee.
“Chieftain Ulrich did say something about pledging me to his daughter.” Bren scowled into the fire. “I do not like her. She comes in here and talks, and talks, and talks. I do not like it.” He crossed his arms and glowered. “She plays with my hair too.” He scowled, clearly irritated by the girl’s actions.
“I can imagine!” Sarah sympathized with the irritated lad.
“I am too young to pledge my troth, aren’t I?” he asked hopefully
“Truly, yes. Ulrich cannot force a pledge now that I am here,” she reassured Bren. “His seers will be no match for my magic.”
“Are you a witch?” Bren exclaimed, a bit fearful and breathless.
“Yes, Bren. That is part of what being a Priestess means.”
“But you are a good witch, yes?” he queried with a tremulous voice.
“Yes, I am,” she promised. “Let us find some sleep this night. Perhaps in the morning your father will be here to rescue us.”
“I have a really big bed! We can share!” Bren offered excitedly.
“Why thank you, kind sir,” she accepted graciously. “Go on. I will speak with your guards then I will come in to sleep.”
“I am so glad you are here, Lady Sarah. I didn’t like being so alone.”
“I am happy to be here as well.”
Bren grinned at her and moving towards the bedchamber. Sarah went to the door, waved her hand at it, and it opened of its own accord. Tarin and the guard jumped a bit. Sarah glared at them with her lip curled into a snarl.
“I shall sleep here with the boy. Bring a decent meal in the morning,” the captive witch commanded.
Tarin bowed, murmuring, “By your leave, m’Lady,” as he shut the door.
Quietly, Sarah made her way to the bed, studying the rooms as she moved. She made a quick note of the not so high window, just wide enough. As she slipped underneath the blankets, she whispered to Bren, “Do you ride, young one?”
“Oh, yes, m’Lady!” he whispered back enthusiastically.
“When the guards have become dull, we shall make our way through the window,” she explained. “Maybe just right out the front door,” she wondered more quietly.
“They shall spy us easily!” Bren stated, worried.
“No fears, young one. I have my magic. I will make us very difficult to see,” she assured him as she snuggled into the blankets. “For now, rest. We shall ride hard to be free of this prison, when the time is right!”
“Oh, yes, Lady Sarah!” Bren smiled happily, turning on his back to press against her reassuring warmth.
