Secrets of the Night Special Edition, page 36
While Calum drained his mug, Roric leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. Questions flooded his mind. Was the jackal Balor's familiar? Did Balor shapeshift? What if the general practiced wizardry? If he did . . . Roric's mind raged with hopeful possibilities. If he could prove that Balor practiced the evil craft, he would arrest him and turn him over to the druids. But he must have evidence. It all came back to proof.
* * *
Keriam's spirit lifted from the bed as she lay sound asleep. Night after night, she'd spied on Aradia, to discover what evil the sorceress was devising. Talmora, she'd be glad when the witch had departed the palace. So far, Keriam had gained no new information, most times finding Aradia in her room, sound asleep. And where the witch went other times, Keriam had no idea. Since the steward's death, his widow occupied a small room on the third floor, at the opposite end of the hall from the present steward's quarters.
Roric's recent tale of a jackal roaming the woods aroused her suspicions, her brain focused on one person: Aradia.
She drifted upward to the third floor and slipped into Aradia's room, keeping within the shadows. Her bed was empty, the sorceress nowhere in sight. Hurry! Keriam's spirit brain warned. Find Aradia before she leaves the palace, if it's not already too late.
Like a feather caught in a downwind, she floated toward the first floor. Step by cautious step, she slipped through the thick walls and emerged outside after one of the guards walked past. Seeking concealment, she floated toward an earthberry bush beyond the spacious palace garden, in an area that warded the woods separating the palace grounds from Balor's mansion and the other military housing.
Despite its immense size, the palace had purposely been built with only three doors leading to the outside, one at the front and two at the back on either side of the kitchen, features that helped protect the palace from intruders. Keriam suspected that if Aradia were to embark on her own nightly sojourn, she would choose one of the back doors.
Before long, she heard the heavy oaken door screech open. Aradia stepped into the full moonlight as another guard approached along the flagstone walk.
"Mistress Morrigan, it's late to be outside, and dangerous, too. I've heard tales of a jackal roaming the palace grounds at night."
Aradia laughed softly, a sweet, melodic sound. "Sir, I appreciate your concern, but I've always found that animals are shy. They leave us alone if we do the same for them. As a matter of fact, I couldn't sleep. Thought I might take a walk in the woods. I promise you, I'll be careful."
"Very well, mistress. But if you need help, please be sure to call me."
"Thank you, sir. How kind you are. I'll remember your warning." After the guard walked past, Aradia headed for the thick woods, her step quick and purposeful. Several yards away, she stopped behind a spreading oak and looked in all directions.
Hiding within the earthberry bush, Keriam observed Aradia as if it were daylight, saw her pale skin, heard her every movement. The sorceress slipped her shoulder straps down, and her silk nightgown slithered from her body in a soft heap. She raised a large rock and shoved the gown beneath it, her naked body gleaming in the moonlight.
And then . . . and then . . . Keriam stared, her mouth open in shock. A light fog surrounded the witch. Fur patches sprouted on the sorceress's body, starting on her belly and spreading outward. Hands became paws, the face elongating into a snout. Bones crunched; limbs realigned as the witch slowly sank to all fours, her feet lengthening, long hooked claws scratching the ground. A tail grew, and her hips and shoulders narrowed, like a wolf's. Her body fully covered with fur, Aradia growled, low and sharp. A strong, musky odor fouled the night air.
Keriam stayed motionless, shocked beyond words, beyond action. Goddess, she prayed, what can I do now? How could she fight this creature? Would Radegunda's magic prove a match for this witch?
"Can't a body get any sleep around here?" A sweet, bell like voice, barely audible, rose from the earthberry bush.
Who was that? Keriam spun around, her spirit heart beating frantically. She looked around, her eyes catching a fairy tucked in the curve of a branch. The tiny creature yawned and stretched her arms. Her silvery wings shone in the moonlight, curly golden hair framing her face. Clad in a pink pastel gown, she resembled a tiny doll, not more than two inches long, her eyes, nose, and mouth perfectly-formed.
Keriam pressed her hand to her ethereal heart. "Ah, you startled me," she whispered in her spirit voice. "Sorry if I disturbed you."
The fairy waved a tiny hand. "It's all right, princess. I'll go back to sleep soon enough. But watch out for that Aradia. This isn't the first time she's shape--shape--"
"Shapeshifted?"
"Yes!"
"Goddess!" A jolt of alarm slammed through her spirit body.
"Indeed!" The fairy yawned again and sank back into the branch, shimmying into a comfortable position. "Now, if you'll excuse me . . ."
"Wait! Please tell me your name."
"Zinerva," she said in her sweet voice. "Now, I really must sleep. . . ."
"Goodnight, Zinerva." Tempted to reach over and touch the lovely creature, Keriam realized her own ghostly body precluded tangible contact.
Tucking her wings across her chest, the fairy closed her eyes, and in no time, a slight rise and fall of her chest indicated she slept deeply.
Keriam cast one last affectionate glance at the comely creature. She hoped to meet Zinerva again, during the day, perhaps, when distractions wouldn’t preempt a furtherance of their acquaintance. Vague possibilities claimed her mind. Was there some way she could use these lovely creatures--not only Zinerva, but other fairies that inhabited the trees--to help her? Well, something to think about . . .
Mindful of the passing time, Keriam followed the witch through the woods. When needing solitude, she'd often roamed these woods in daylight hours, thankful this wasn't the same vast forest as where the torathors dwelled. She enjoyed the experience during the day, but now her arracht shook with each step.
Keriam slid from tree to tree, always careful to keep the sorceress in sight, the thick tree roots and jutting rocks proving no impediment. Like monsters, gnarled tree trunks and twisted limbs loomed all around her. At the woods' edge, the jackal sped toward the general's house.
Keriam left the forest. She'd learned all she needed to know.
* * *
The jackal trotted along the ground, through the thick trees and undergrowth. She sniffed the rich earth, stopping occasionally to smell a rotting carcass or a strange plant. Now and then, the animal looked behind, a vague disquiet in her head, uncertain of the cause. She paused and snarled, a low, throaty growl.
Somewhere in the dim recesses of her memory lurked her lover's admonition that she must remain always on guard. Her lover . . . a flicker of joy made her heart beat faster, saliva dripping from her mouth. The heat consumed her, strong and gloriously wild.
She reached her destination and raced the remaining distance, across the wide, grassy space. Insects buzzed around her. A snake glided through the grass, its tongue flicking in and out, its head darting from side to side. So many diversions! But she raced on, her goal in sight.
A barbarous excitement raged within her, but fear accompanied her, too. What if an arrow felled her? Once more, she sniffed the air around her until convinced no danger threatened. At her lover's house now, she stopped beside a secret entrance that bordered the house, a wide opening set beneath a layer of leafy twigs, placed behind a thick bush. With her right forepaw, she moved aside a leafy branch, then wiggled and squirmed through the opening.
A few steps led her down to a narrow tunnel under the house. Aradia trotted along, her eyes keenly sharp in the darkness, the soft pads of her feet touching the cold stone floor. She paused to smell a dead rat, then ran on, impatient to see her lover. Snakes slid along the floor, and spiders dangled from webs on the ceiling, but she ignored every temptation. The jackal's brain issued a warning, something she must do, but what? Ah, yes, she must close up the tunnel opening, make it look as if no entrance existed.
Within minutes, she shifted to her human form. The fur gradually disappeared, the bones realigning again; the snout became a nose, and paws reformed into feet and hands. Human again, she returned to the hole, bending over double as she retraced her steps. There at the entrance she pushed a secret door into place, one that concealed any hint of the tunnel or the opening.
She headed back along the tunnel again and climbed the few steps to the bedchamber door. Without knocking, she emerged, naked and eager, into Midac Balor's elegant bedchamber.
He drew her into his arms. "I thought you'd never come."
* * *
Upon her return to the palace, Keriam's spirit body hid behind a bush while a guard made the rounds, a bored expression on his face. After he disappeared around the corner, she slipped out from her hiding place. Caught up in her anxieties, she failed to see or hear another man who left the stables, his high boots crunching on the gravel. Too late, she saw him staring at her: Roric Gamal!
Mind-numbing fear drove her behind an oak tree. She admonished herself for being discovered. Fool! Had Roric actually seen her? If so, what would he think of her now? Would he ever trust her again? How could she face him tomorrow? Even now, she could hear his accusations as he dragged her to the druids: witch!
* * *
Returning from the tavern, Roric stabled his horse and headed for the palace, wanting solitude and sleep, to forget--at least until morning--the dangerous game he played. But he mustn't reject Calum's report of a jackal, a tale too serious to dismiss.
He strode the gravel path that led from the stable to the palace, wondering if he could sleep at all. As he neared the palace, he conceived a plan. Perhaps if he visited Balor again with more information that would prove useful to the general, it would deflect any suspicion from him.
Something moved among the trees and bushes, not far from where he walked--a spirit, as ephemeral as air. Recognition punched him in the gut. Princess Keriam! He stared, but the specter disappeared, prompting him to wonder if he'd only imagined it. Did the princess practice witchcraft? Talmora's bones, don't let it be true! He shook his head, convinced that strain and worry prevented clear perception. Or possibly tonight's drinks on an empty stomach had affected his brain? But he'd had only three mugs of corma. Perhaps three too many.
* * *
Aradia nestled in bed with Midac, warmly satiated after their lovemaking. She congratulated herself on her ingenuity. Only look at what she'd done to the horses, given them all a hoof infection. She'd stay at the palace as long as she pleased, and no stupid princess would tell her when to leave. Despite her satisfaction, a few matters rankled her, topics with which she must confront the general.
"I saw you talking to the princess recently," she said, her tone accusatory.
A short pause ensued. "Well, you see, I had hoped to marry her--"
"Deceiver!" She kicked his bare leg. "I'm only second-best, is that it?"
He laughed. "You didn't let me finish. I changed my mind about the princess after I learned to know you better. What good fortune that you came to the capital! And now that your cloddish husband is gone--"
"Thank the demoness! I married him only to escape that dreary village." She chuckled. "Even had some friends pose as my family when he visited. And he thought I loved him. What a simpleton!"
"Well, he's out of the way now. Once we're rid of the king–“
She sat up in bed. "When?"
"Ah, getting impatient, are we? All in due time, my dear. Now, let me finish. Once we're rid of the king, you may marry me. We can rule the country together."
She sank back down and snuggled closer. "And the princess?"
"I leave her to you. I'm sure you can devise ways to make life difficult for her, so she'll be happy to leave."
Aradia giggled. "I know a few poisons."
"Save your poisons for the king." He hesitated. "Or perhaps we will eliminate him some other way. In any event, I don't want the princess dead--No," he said as she jerked from his arm, "another death is one too many. We don't want others to get suspicious." He tapped her arm. "Remember, the army backs me, if only from fear, and that's all that matters. The soldiers know what will happen to them if they refuse to obey. With the princess gone from the palace, or better still, kept prisoner there--and you'll make sure of that, won't you?--I see no threat to our position or power."
"What about the new steward?" she asked.
"Gamal? What about him?"
"Can we count on his loyalty? You told me he's on your side, but as the king's steward--"
"Just wait until I rule the country. First chance I get, I'll test his loyalty. Then we'll find out whose side Gamal is on."
"And if it's not yours?"
Balor chuckled. "If not, I have a special punishment reserved for him."
"Ooh, tell me what you're going to do to him." Her heart beat wildly. "May I watch?"
"Ah, my dear sadistic witch. We'll have many punishment holidays when I become king. And you may watch to your heart's content." He reached for her hand and placed her fingers on his groin, which she found hard as iron. "I'll even put you in charge of the festivities. How does that sound?"
"Oh, I can hardly wait," she said, fondling him. "And I'll wager you can hardly wait now."
"Ah, yes, but sex is so much better when you, uh, don't rush things." He reached over to smooth his hand along her hip. "How strong is your magic, I wonder? Is it as strong as that old crone--what's her name--Radegunda?"
"Stronger! I can make a person see anything I want him to see. But sometimes I forget myself, like the time the princess saw us together, or thought she did. And you were nowhere near." She continued to fondle him, reveling in his quickened breathing. "At the time, I was thinking of you so much, I slipped up."
"Tell me how you did it."
She laughed. "You want me to give away my secrets?"
Balor bent low to lick her nipple. She gasped with pleasure, aching to have him inside her. "Never mind,” he said. “You're good at so many things. Now show me what you do best.” He mounted her, and with one quick movement, plunged inside her. “Make love like an animal, darling. Like a jackal!"
Chapter Eleven
"You did well this time, sir. You almost beat me."
Roric smiled as he removed his fencing mask and gloves, breathing a sigh of relief at the swift onrush of air on his sweaty face. "'Almost' is the operative word, I believe. Now tell me what I did wrong."
"You still clench your left hand when you prepare to lunge," he said with a frank look. "This betrays your intentions."
Roric wiped a handkerchief across his face. "Something I need to improve."
The instructor nodded. "You can always improve your fencing. It could be a matter of life or death."
* * *
Hours before sunrise, Radegunda stepped outside the palace, greeting one of the night guards as he made his rounds along the courtyard walk. She held a lantern in one hand, a cloth bag in the other. By now, everyone at the palace knew Radegunda and considered her a friend, one they could trust to cure their ailments.
A warm breeze carried the scents of the courtyard, the smell of dry grass and night-blooming paconia. A quarter moon floated high in the heavens, accompanied by a multitude of stars; a chain of four brilliant planets trailed across the eastern sky.
The guard raised an eyebrow. "Rather late to be out, Radegunda," he said, a question in his voice. "Or early, depending on how you look at it."
She smiled. "Heard the horses have a problem. Thought I'd check on them but didn't want to bother Traigh or any of the stable boys."
"Madam, if you can heal the horses as well as you cured my toothache, we will all be grateful. Those horses can barely stand–all of them! No one’s been able to ride for days.” He scratched his head. "Strangest thing I ever saw."
"I'll see what I can do. Goodnight, Noland."
In a loft above the stalls, Traigh and the stable boys slept soundly, no doubt exhausted after all the ministrations they'd had to perform on the horses--soaking their hooves in salt water twice a day, day after day. On light feet, Radegunda entered the first stall to find a bay lying down, twitching his hooves.
Radegunda laid a gentle hand on his forehead, saying magical words meant to soothe, and immediately the horse settled down in quiet contentment. She held the lantern close to the horse's hooves, examining each one.
She nodded in satisfaction. "Ah, yes, we'll have you better in no time." Opening her bag, she withdrew a jar of ointment, a mixture of tar with camomile and garlic, blended with a special herb few people knew of because it grew only in the mountains. She had procured the herb, along with a magic spell, years ago from a wizard who lived secretly in a cave, high up in the mountains.
She applied the ointment to each hoof, saying her magic, placing her hand lightly on the horse's leg. The hay around the horse's hooves sizzled and smoked, a sign her spell was working. Fearful one of the guards would smell the smoke, she beat it out with her bare hands. She went from stall to stall, bestowing the same tender treatment, a blend of ointment and enchantment, until she'd ministered to each one of them.
Convinced her spells had cured the horses, she wished she could perform a charm on Balor and Aradia, completely change their natures and make them both so docile that they wouldn't threaten anyone. But her magic wasn't strong enough yet. Repetition was the answer; she had a myriad of spells she wanted to practice, but she couldn't do them here at Emain Macha. Besides her books of spells, she needed open spaces and absolute solitude, impossible to obtain at the palace.
