Part 24 (1/2)

”Does it bother you?”

”Sometimes.”

”What did he do to you?” she whispered, tightly.

”I don't remember,” he answered truthfully. ”I only remember pain.” His mood s.h.i.+fting, he rolled to his side and gathered her lovingly into himself. ”I don't want to speak about the past,” he murmured, and with helpless fingers stroked her cheek over and over, his mouth miserable. ”I wish only to cling to these precious moments, which are pa.s.sing all too soon.”

She leaned forward, her lips a feather against his. He pressed himself into the security of her warmth, closely, as if he wished never more to withdraw from her; the two were motionless for some time. She would say nothing, but then it was he who volunteered, in a low, miserable voice, ”He took everything from me. Everything I ever loved he took away-my home, my life, my memory of him.” Deacon lay bitter in the past, then added, ”He took my mother.”

Magenta looked at him, not understanding. He rolled back, staring upward.

”When she died I felt as if I ventured a little way into death with her. I could taste the bitterness of it. I think she tore a piece of me and kept it with her.” He remained wordless for a time, then turned his eyes to her. ”Do you remember what you said to me before, in the woods-that nothing is forever lost, that always it can be found?” A touch of scorn came to his voice. ”Is that what you truly believe?”

”I do.”

He stared upward again. ”It does little to ease the pain,” he said, some of his bitterness returning.

”No,” she a.s.sented softly.

He clenched his jaw, waiting to hear her say more, but she remained quiet, watching him helplessly, feeling his pain. Her silence made his tears rise. His throat worked as if it was difficult to swallow. His eyes were wide and fixed upward. Slowly a tear escaped the corner of his eye and stole down the side of his face. ”She was afraid, and I couldn't take the fear away-I couldn't take away the fear, and it hurts me in my heart-”

He broke off. Words he longed to say caught in the back of his throat, choking him. He squeezed his eyes shut in a desire to banish the memories. He would much rather have endured physical pain than this weight pressing on his heart. She sought his hand and gently clasped it. He moved slightly at her touch but did not rouse from despondency.

”There is little comfort for such sorrows,” she said, quietly. ”But I would suffer a thousand miserable lives if I knew at the end of them I would have you.”

He slowly moved his head round on the pillow to look at her. His eyes tenderly searching her face, a deep frown gathered his brow, and his heart contracted with love. In her he had found a feeling of home. He leaned over and began to kiss her in a tearful haste, an anxious acceleration of desire, a deep, pa.s.sionate weight on her mouth as if he would draw her into him and fuse her soul with his. He kissed and kissed with his sad mouth. And she, moved with compa.s.sion, lay aside herself and allowed him to take her with this sudden desperation to sate the need for union. Gone in a flame of pa.s.sion, he abandoned all thought of past and future and gave himself over to the sweetness of the present, the inconceivable depths, the unutterable tenderness of affection between man and woman, which over and above all other relations, flows over wounds as a healing balm.

His intensely feeling heart, with all its capacity, its energy, was focused on her as the sole object of his devotion. In that intensity of tenderness, he clung to her till his desperate energy had expended itself and he lay still in her arms, his face resting against her breast. He lay there inside himself, as if in his own isolation, and yet with her, connected with her in love, his arm strong around her.

She lay dazed in the unbroken stillness. She could not remove the fear that he was hiding something. It lay upon her as a great weight. Yet as he lay helplessly against her, she could not help but look down at him with a tender heart. She would enfold him in warmth, she would give him all her own, so that he might never again feel the chill of lonely nights.

At the close of another the day, the travellers found a suitable resting place and lit a fire. The night drew in with a depressing sense of oppression. Deacon sat close to Magenta, their heads almost touching, their tone low and intimate. Derek amused himself by chewing on a piece of gra.s.s, watching the process Cedrik underwent to give his dagger the best appearance, meticulously polis.h.i.+ng the blade to ensure evenness and uniformity of finish. A large black bird swooped down into a tree near them and caused Deacon to glance up. Something in its black eye caught his attention, a kind of intelligence, keen and cunning.

Magenta looked up at him inquiringly as he slowly arose. There was a stirring in the unsettled air that disturbed him. With a sudden rageful gesture, he tore the intruder apart in a puff of black feathers. They all started to their feet in alarm. Magenta looked to Deacon with an alarmed expression of inquiry, but his eyes roved out into the night, trying to pierce the dark. He was listening, and unconsciously everyone fell into listening with him.

”Don't be far from me,” he cautioned, reaching out to bring her near. For a short time he failed to observe anything, then something stealthy moved within the shadows, prowling. He sighted its sleek hide moving among the trees. To the brothers, he lifted his face to indicate its direction. Cedrik and Derek soundlessly unsheathed their swords.

They had only done this, when from within the shadows, hostile eyes encountered Deacon's. The beast emitted a frightful roar, and with a mighty spring leaped out. It collected him on the way, clawing him, and knocking Magenta to the ground in the process. Directly came four more of these bristling beasts, charging down upon them so suddenly the brothers scarce had time to ready themselves for the onrus.h.i.+ng ferocity.

Deacon struggled as he went down beneath the great body, striving to compose his mind. This he achieved, and in a sudden violent flare, his entire body became ablaze, engulfing the beast in flames. A shriek of torture issued from its gnas.h.i.+ng jaws, which seemed aimed for his throat, and with a tremendous roll and heave, Deacon hurled its blackened body off and away from him. It lay limp on its side, all four paws stilled.

Magenta, in shock, remained helpless where she had first fallen, yet the brutes made no attempt on her, but were instead bent on tearing apart her companions. Without the loss of a moment, Deacon was on his feet and heading toward her when the beast, presumed dead, made a spring for him from behind. Its lunging presence made an impression before its physical body. Deacon suddenly turned and with an effort of will, caught it out of the air and hurtled it a distance. It yelped and rolled with a gruesome twisting of its body before recovering itself, emitting roars of pain and rage.

Magenta made a sudden dash for Deacon and was forced to a halt when a beast bolted between them. She was off again in an instant, and Deacon caught her in one arm. With his other he reached up to the trees and brought down a hefty branch on the back of the burned animal, which had been poised to leap.

The campsite was in total disarray. The tethered horses reared so violently to disengage they almost injured themselves. Cedrik and Derek's troubles were no less demanding. They were rushed upon by these determined brutes, which had cold, directed hate in their eyes, something electric and conscienceless, along with the weirdness of the enchantment that gripped their wills and yielded them to a cruel master. They were strong and relentless. It took many strikes before the mighty creatures showed any signs of weakening.

Almost stumbling and falling, Derek fended off claws and gnas.h.i.+ng teeth, forced constantly backward, awaiting his moment to thrust a killing strike before the beast reached him and mauled him into death. Cedrik slashed at the thick hide, even as he turned and guided his sword point to one of those electric eyes, the action of which brought forth a deafening shriek. Another bristled and angrily leapt at his throat with its blood-thirsty fangs.

Cedrik came forward to meet it, slas.h.i.+ng at the base of the neck. A single well-placed hit would have crippled even this great monster. As it clawed past, it caught his shoulder, opening the material and his flesh alike. Wild with rage, Cedrik brought the beast down. Throwing himself full upon its back and finding the vulnerable flesh in the upper shoulder, he plunged his dagger again and again, till the object that caused his fury finally stilled and died.

He achieved this impressive feet only through his cousin's efforts at keeping its kin at bay. Deacon sent one a.s.sault after another, seeking to utterly destroy the enemies that had provoked his wrath. They were highly resistant to his efforts and terrifically strong. He held his chest painfully from the heavy exertion.

The struggle that ensued overwhelmed the companions, and they had no choice but to flee, Deacon sending light and energy away in a shockwave to give them a chance to outdistance their foe. He took hold of Magenta and together they fled through the obscure ma.s.s of trees. He held her hand tightly pressed within his own, so they might not easily be separated, drawing on her till she was at her full speed. They darted through clawing-branches that snagged and caught at their clothes and faces.

Derek skidded to a sudden halt and would have toppled over into a dark pit if not checked by his brother's strong arms from behind. Magenta was not so fortunate. Deacon's eyes saw it quicker than hers, but before he could recover himself, she stumbled and fell, almost taking him down with her. His frantic hands clutched at her as she went from his grasp. The hot blood rushed to his head, and he stared wide-eyed after her, himself hanging half-over the edge.

Below she dangled precariously and out of his reach. She groped for a hold upon the rocky surface. Almost she slipped when several pieces dislodged, with a clatter of loose earth and stones. They seemed to meet no end, for there was no sound as they disappeared into the blackness. Every time she tried to heave herself up, a rock would slip from under and threaten to drag her down with it.

For a time the shock of the occurrence left Deacon deprived of coherent thought and incapable of action. The nerve and cool head so necessary to his ability were destroyed. He looked around for the means to facilitate her a.s.sent, and sighting a large elm, demanded of Derek, ”Give me your sword.”

Without a minute lost, Deacon lopped off a branch and thrust it down to her. Their pursuers could not be far behind, but the fear of the new threat was still upon them. Grasping the lowered object with her hands, Magenta began to climb upward, while he held fast to the opposite end, drawing up the ascender with simultaneous effort. When she neared the top he reached to her. She stretched a hand to him with much grat.i.tude. Cedrik came forward to a.s.sist.

Derek wisely stood back from the edge while the two men, crouched upon the brink of the abyss, grabbed and pulled her to safety. Only a moment could they spare to sentiment. The beasts would soon be upon them. Unfortunately, to risk descent into an unknown pit at night was equally perilous. They had no choice but to double back into the woods, but an idea came swiftly to Deacon. He turned to his companions and instructed them to remain soundless and without motion. As if drawing a blanket over their heads, he cloaked them in profound darkness, so they appeared no different from the shadows of night, concealing them from wicked eyes. They waited there under the protection of what he had done, while Deacon stood apart and did the same for himself, but not before he sent thick fogs and mists over the pit.

The charging beasts, in pursuit of the prey that had evaded them, rushed forth unaware of the peril and all at once, plunged into the blackness. But ere those that were concealed had time to breathe relief, powerful claws revealed themselves and began to grope and claw their way back up. Only two of the beasts had plummeted to their death. Deacon stepped free of his shadowy concealment. His energies responding quickly to his will, he sent forth a bombardment of forced air, which drove the brutes backward and into the black depths, lost with their kin.

When they returned to camp, Cedrik and Derek went directly to the horses to see the extent of any injuries. Deacon moved about highly agitated, Magenta motionless near him. ”Do you think it safe to remain here?” asked Cedrik, stroking the horse's neck. He had tied something tightly round his own arm to stop the flow of blood.

Deacon stalked back and forth like a cornered animal. He stopped abruptly and said tightly, ”You will return home, and you will take her with you!” He had such a determined air that there seemed no opposing him. Almost instantly Magenta's face became grave and questioning.

”You will not return with us?”

For a moment Deacon stood at a loss, while she looked to him with mournful reproach. Both Cedrik and Derek moved away from the tense pair, uttering some vague reason, but they were so little conscious of anything outside of each other that the entire wood could have caught fire unseen and unheard. Less agitated than before, Deacon went to her. ”You will be safer with them,” he reasoned, gently.

”There would be less peril for all involved if you would return with us.” It was reasonable logic, but he ignored it because it went against him. ”You would rather make wild ventures than return with me?” she asked, sadly. His eyes sought the ground, and her fears were realized. ”The reasons you spoke of-you have deceived me?”

His reluctant eyes lifted to met hers. She released his arm and withdrew slightly. ”I hardly know whether I love or despise you most,” she said, with something like despair.

”I would ask you to await my return, but you may yet despise me most.”

”Why do you say these things?” she asked. ”Speak more freely.”

”Will you await my return?”

Her voice barely a breath: ”Answer me.”

It seemed uncertain whether he would venture to speak. Then: ”There is a man there,” he admitted tightly.

She frowned, not understanding.

”I mean to kill him.”

The sinking feeling when an undesirable truth is reached made her suddenly ill and faint. It was with heavy dismay that she asked. ”Whose blood are you so anxious to spill?” His eyes soon gave an answer and she understood. ”You told me he had died.”

”He's as good as.”

”He's not been punished?”

”It's not enough,” he said with his suppressed hatred. ”I want to look into his eyes and watch him die.” He clenched his teeth with pain. ”And in his last breath, when he begs my forgiveness-deny him.” He spoke in a voice filled with such controlled hate it was hardly his own.