“My lord!” The man who led his human troops called to Hugh, so he turned his gaze away from the seer clawing at his fist. “He is the last one, my lord.”
Eudes’s words gave him pause. As much as he wanted to kill the seer who could not see, he did need him. Hugh screamed his displeasure as he threw Paulin to the ground. Gasping and trying to suck in the air he’d been denied, Paulin struggled on the ground.
“See to him, Eudes. Two more days and we return to Yester.”
“Aye, my lord.” Hugh’s half-brother bowed and then helped Paulin to his feet and away.
How had the symbols—that must be here—been hidden from his sight and that of this druid? Walking to the nearest stone, Hugh placed his hands on it, feeling the heat that radiated from within. That was not magical, for some stones simply absorbed the warmth of the sun and held it, releasing it slowly over hours. They must be here. They must be—
The pain struck him quickly and took his breath. His fire raged within him, answering the call of another. Another?
Another fireblood?
Bending over and gasping at the pain that was neither exquisite nor arousing, Hugh knew it was not his wife or daughter Adelaide. His daughter had demonstrated no ability to control fire in spite of his sire’s careful plan to find and breed the trait in the children of his son and daughter-in-law. So many years of planning and finding the right bloodline to breed with his own and it had ended in failure. It had seemed that Hugh was their bloodline’s last chance.
Until now. Until this.
The excruciating waves pierced him, burned him, tried to tear his power out of him. He fought, grasping within to keep the fire there at his core.
Someone was calling it forth. Someone could call it. Someone . . .
By the goddess! Could it be his bastard after all?
He laughed now, loud and rough as the pain tore into his soul and his flesh. The girl was calling the fire!
And then it was gone. The pulling and tearing, the fire burning him, all of it. She must have ceased in her efforts. Or mayhap she did not yet know how to control it. Gods! When she did, he could tell from the feel of this that she would be formidable. His dark mood evaporated, and he laughed into the terrified faces of those who served him.
He tried to remember on which slattern he’d bred this daughter, whether one of his villeins or some other woman taken as he wanted. Ever aware of the bloodlines of his goddess’s enemies, he did not remember finding or swiving a woman of power. And yet this bastard girl of his had inherited his and clearly her dam’s, if she could use it this way.
Having two firebloods in this quest meant everything. That the other was of his flesh and blood meant his power would be unstoppable when combined with hers. Hugh roared out in pleasure at this, for he would now claim her and train her and she would belong to him and his goddess. She’d be used in their quest and discarded when her powers were depleted, leaving his untouched, undiminished.
None of the other bloodlines—not the warrior nor the healer nor the stormblood nor the waterblood nor the beastblood nor the earthblood—could hope to stand against him—against them now.
“Chaela, my goddess,” he whispered into the air. “We are close. We are so very close.”
He strode over to the altar stone, a large, flat stone that reclined between two taller, upright stones, and laid his hands on it. Blood had been spilled here, but it had happened too long ago to wake the seer’s abilities. He would fix that and then return to Yester to begin the process of claiming his daughter’s powers.
“Eudes!” His half-brother came at his call, knowing better than to hesitate. “Summon Brisbois from the camp and find a suitable gift for the gods here.” Eudes bowed and turned to leave. “And tell Paulin we leave one day after he reads the altar stone.”
In a short time, for he would brook no delays or impediments, his executioner had arrived with their sacrifice. Handing Brisbois the dagger Hugh had forged and used for his own initiation, he instructed him in how to perform the ritual.
As Brisbois set to work, making the death last as long as possible, Hugh walked around the altar stone and chanted the prayers that would gain favor for their search. By the time the man’s last scream echoed through the circle, the altar lay covered in the rich, dark blood that would replenish the force within it. Chaela had been properly worshipped. Now his seer should have no excuse.
When Hugh rode south the following day, back to his lands in Gifford, he knew that the circle was the first gate he must open. Paulin had been able to point out where the symbols were carved into the stones, but he could not make them visible to Hugh yet. Regardless, the potential of combining his power with another fireblood made him smile with joy for the first time in a very, very long while.
It would take him another sennight to reach Yester and then the first steps in the quest would begin.
William dividedhis men into smaller groups so that they could hide on the hillside. In farmland like this, a large camp of armed men would be easily seen and reported. No one could find any word of Lord Hugh’s whereabouts nor his intention of returning to Yester. He held lands here and in the west, though this was his seat and the place the king had sent him. Standing on the edge of his camp, he could see the towers of Yester Castle rise in the distance beyond the forest and the curls of smoke rising above the small village that sprang up at its entrance and served the needs of those who lived in the keep.
Without gaining entrance to the castle, William knew not if the lord’s wife and daughter were in residence. He knew not how many guards were on duty nor how many soldiers lived within it. Nor how much food or supplies were on hand. Nor if the water supply was contained within the castle walls or if it came from outside. All crucial bits of knowledge needed before planning any attack on a fortified castle.
The sun struggled to rise this morn, the clouds thick and dark and threatening a late-winter storm. William nodded as the first of his men woke and rolled their blankets. He had said little to them when they’d arrived just after sunset, leading their horses on foot along a hillside path to avoid being seen. Uncertain of what Gautier had told them, he would wait and speak to them later, when all twelve of his men were present.
Roger walked to his side and held out a battered cup of ale and a hunk of cheese. He took them and nodded his thanks. It had been Roger’s signal the day before that had stopped him before he could go farther with the blacksmith’s daughter—and regret it. There was no recrimination in his actions, simply a reminder of the task at hand and the dangers of seducing an innocent villager.
“Do you still plan to see her?” he asked, knowing of William’s arranged meeting.
“Aye. I think she can tell me much about Lord Hugh,” he answered, looking off in the distance. Roger’s choking cough and then laugh spoke of his clear disbelief in William’s plan.
