ELDRA MADE HER way through the village seeing the church she turned toward it, she could not remember the last time she had attended church, certainly not since her mother had died.
She pushed against the churches door finding it locked for the night.
Glancing at the clock tower that loomed over the square she realized how late the hour had become while she and Vincent had waited in the tavern for Mathew to arrive.
Eldra sat down on the steps of the church and began to pray.
She prayed for the strength to do what she must to save Vincent from Mowbray.
She prayed for courage, but most of all she prayed for the ability to hold control over her powers when they would be needed most.
Though the prayer for her powers to hold true, would be considered a blasphemy she supposed, and yet, she thought, had not our Lord turned water into wine, and was that not a form of magic? She asked herself.
As he made his rounds through the churchyard, Father Thomas was startled to see the healer sitting alone upon the church steps.
Lately, some of the local boys had taken to pilfering ale from the tavern, drinking it in the graveyard, while hiding behind the larger headstones out of sight of the priest, and Father Thomas had made a habit of walking through the churchyard after dark to chase them away.
The Priest hurried toward Eldra, his unexpected approach causing her to yelp and jump to her feet ready to flee.
"My child!" he exclaimed, lowering his voice. "You must not be seen here in the village. Please, come with me to the sacristy where you not be observed."
Eldra hesitated, uncertain whether she should trust him. Father Thomas offered her his hand.
"Come," he urged. "Quickly, before anyone sees you."
Eldra put her hand in his allowing herself to be lead away from the steps, and together they made their way around the side of the church, keeping to the shadows as they approached the narrow outer doorway of the sacristy.
Father Thomas glanced back across the graveyard before slipping the key into the lock.
Neither of them noticed the swaying movements of the figure watching from the darkness beyond the graveyard wall.
Johnas crept closer to the sacristy door where the priest had taken the little bitch. He could barely contain his excitement at the thought of having Eldra back within his grasp at last. Johnas could see them moving behind the leaded glass though he could not hear what was being said.
The Priest offered Eldra some communion wine, which she politely refused. With a slight shrug of his shoulders, the priest poured a generous amount into the bejeweled communion chalice for himself, draining it in a single swallow.
Eldra gave him a sour look.
"Please, do not begrudge me a small libation at the end of the day, my dear," Father Thomas said, wiping his mouth with the stole that hung on the back of the chair. "You do not know the burdens a village priest must endure. I can assure you my, Some of the confessions I have heard alone would make your hair stand on end."
He poured himself another measure before settling back against the edge of the tabernacle.
Eldra remained seated in the uncomfortably lumpy old chair, her hands folded in her lap.
"I imagine they would," she said. Father Thomas chuckled.
"Ah, you think I jest."
"I think you enjoy your wine." Eldra replied.
The priest raised the chalice toward her in a salute, with a crooked smile then took another long swallow.
"Perhaps I do. But even a man of God is allowed a little comfort now and again." The priest laughed taking yet another drink from the chalice.
Eldra glanced toward the closed door of the sacristy.
"I am more concerned with whether Johnas will find me." The humor faded from Father Thomas's face.
"On that matter, my child, you have every reason to be concerned."
The priest crossed the small room, lowering himself onto his knees before Eldra until their eyes were level.
"Tell me, why have you remained in the forest?" he asked gently. "Surely there are people who could take you in?"
Eldra looked away from the priest's penetrating gaze. For a moment, she said nothing.
Then, quietly, she told him of her mother's death and the reason she had come to the village. She spoke of their village and the life she had once shared with her mother, and of how alone she had felt when her mother died.
"So you see," she finished softly, "I have no one to return to." She lowered her eyes, afraid to say more.
She dared not tell him about Vincent.
If Father Thomas learned the truth about the man she loved, he would cast her out into the night.
Eldra clasped her hands tightly together, keeping the truth locked behind her lips.
* * *
Johnas watched them through the sacristy leaded window from the shadows, as the priest lowered himself onto his knees before the witch.
What in God's name was the man up to?
A dark thought entered Johnas's mind.
Perhaps his pet altar boys were not the only things Father Thomas enjoyed.
Jealousy flooded through his veins, quickly turning to hot fury as he watched the priest speaking quietly to Eldra.
The sight of them together, hidden away from prying eyes, inflamed his already twisted desire.
He clenched his fists.
The witch belonged to him!
Johnas staggered against the sacristy door, raised his hand he pounded heavily against the crazed glass of the windows pane.
Inside, Father Thomas startled at the sound.
Through the occluded glass, Johnas could just make out the priest's shadow as he hurried to his feet. He watched as Father Thomas's shadow moved quickly toward Eldra, deliberately positioning himself between her and the window. before secreting her in the cupboard where his robes hung.
Johnas narrowed his eyes.
Whatever the two of them had been up to, Johnas intended to find out, and he had no intention of leaving without the little bitch.
Father Thomas made his way to the door.
"Damn his eyes!" he exclaimed, when he realized it was Johnas knocking on the glass.
Taking one last look behind him to make sure all looked as it should, he unlocked the door and nervously invited Johnas in.
"Brother Johnas what brings you to my door at this late hour?" he said with feigned joviality.
Johnas slammed the door back against its frame, his fury evident at what he believed he had caught the priest about to do with Eldra.
Father Thomas could smell the strong stench of whiskey on his breath as Johnas pushed roughly past him, barging into the room.
The priest quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his path and preventing him from venturing any further into the room.
"I think you have been drinking overmuch again, Johnas," Father Thomas said in a low hiss. "Perhaps you should go home and let Bertha tuck you into bed."
At this Johnas took a swing at the priest tripping over the chair where Eldra had sat, before falling to the floor in a heap.
"Where is she?!" Johnas demanded. "Where did you hide the witch?!
Father Thomas leaned casually against the wardrobe, his arms crossed over his chest.
"And who might that be?" he said with a smirk.
"You know perfectly well who I am talking about you son of a whore! The witch!" Johnas wheezed struggling to rise from his prone position.
"Johnas, you're drunk. Pick yourself up and go home," Father Thomas said, doing his best to remain calm.
He hoped that the man's inebriated state might work to his advantage. "Come on, old friend. Up you get."
Father Thomas bent down and helped Johnas regain his feet. The drunken man swayed unsteadily, muttering incoherent words beneath his breath as the priest dusted off his cloak.
"There now," Father Thomas said gently. "That's better."
He guided Johnas toward the door pushing him through it and out into the night before quickly closing and relocking it behind him.
Father Thomas stood for a moment with his back against the door, listening as Johnas's unsteady footsteps faded into the darkness.
Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief.
He crossed the sacristy and extinguished the candle in the lantern beside the chair, plunging the room in total darkness.
Outside Johnas paused, turning back toward the now darkened window.
For a moment he stared at it blankly, trying to recall why he had made his visit to the church in the first place.
Though he tried the thought slipped away, swallowed by the fog of drink. With a drunken shrug, he turned and made his unsteady way home to Bertha and his chair by the fire in his study, where he had made a habit of sleeping of late.
By the time he reached the townhouse, he had mercifully forgotten about seeing Eldra with the priest.
Father Thomas waited until he was certain Johnas had gone before crossing to the cabinet where Eldra was concealed.
The door creaked softly as it swung open.
Eldra stepped out, drawing a deep breath as she emerged from the cramped darkness. She looked at the priest with a mixture of relief and gratitude.
"Thank you," she breathed.
Father Thomas gave her a reassuring smile.
"You are safe for the moment, my child, but I fear when Johnas sobers up he will return."
"I think I had better leave. I can return to the forest and the shelter I have built there," Eldra replied.
Though Father Thomas tried his best to dissuade her, Eldra would not be moved.
She thanked him quietly for his kindness before slipping out of the sacristy and into the graveyard.
The evening air was cold against her face as she moved between the ancient headstones, keeping to the shadows, pulling her cloak tightly around her shoulders she glanced back toward the church before continuing onward.
She knew she should not return to the forest alone.
The men searching for her and Vincent were still out there, and Johnas would surely not abandon his hunt so easily.
Yet the thought of remaining in the village frightened her even more.
There were too many eyes upon her now, too much danger following wherever she went.
The forest, at least, offered her a place to hide.
And somewhere deep within those trees was the shelter she and Vincent had shared.
Her heart ached at the thought of him. She wondered where he was now.
Whether he was safe?
Whether he was searching for her?
Eldra hurried through the darkness, following the narrow path that led away from the village. Before long, the last cottages disappeared behind her and the familiar wall of trees rose before her like dark, waiting sentinels.
She paused at the edge of the forest.
For a fleeting moment, an uneasy feeling crept over her. Someone was watching her.
Eldra turned slowly, searching the road behind her, but there was nothing there. Only the distant glow of the village fires and the faint silhouette of the church steeple against the moonless night sky.
She swallowed hard.
"Vincent?" she whispered.
Only the familiar sounds of the night answered back.
Drawing her cloak even tighter around herself, she stepped beneath the trees.
Unaware that somewhere in the darkness ahead, a pair of dark eyes had already found her.
* * *
Mary struggled against him as Archer marched her toward the place where Mowbray and the others waited.
"Let me go!" she cried, twisting desperately in his grasp.
Archer tightened his hold on her arm, dragging her onward despite her resistance, causing her to stumble at times in her slippered feet, nearly falling to her knees on the muddied track.
"Save your strength, my lady," Archer growled. "You'll have plenty of opportunity to speak once Sir Mowbray has met with you."
Mary's heart pounded violently within her chest.
She could see her husband ahead, standing among the others his straight backed stance seemed menacing.
His cold expression unreadable.
With a sinking heart Mary knew that whatever Mowbray had planned for her, she was no longer his wife, she was his prisoner.
Archer shoved Mary forward until she stood directly before Mowbray.
A predatory smile slowly spread across his face, giving him the unhinged appearance of an escaped lunatic from Bethlem Royal Hospital.
Terror filled Mary's heart as she finally understood the true purpose of the journey.
This had never been about reconciliation. Mowbray had brought her here so that he could have her killed, freeing him to marry Lady Philippa without the inconvenience, or suspicion of murder hanging over his head that her death would cause at court.
After all, his loyal guard dogs would surely testify on his behalf that her death was but a tragic accident, when called to give evidence before the king's coroner.
Mowbray took a slow step toward her.
Mary instinctively recoiled, but Archer's grip prevented her from retreating.
Mowbray reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips.
For one foolish instant, Mary wondered if perhaps she had been mistaken.
Then his teeth sank deep into the flesh of her hand.
Mary let out a sharp cry of pain, violently struggling against Archer's iron grasp as Mowbray released her hand with a cruel smile on his blood-stained lips.
"Did you truly believe I brought you here because I wished to make peace?" he laughed.
Mary stared at him in horror, cradling her injured hand against herself.
Mowbray's smile widened.
"No, my dear wife. I brought you here because I have finally found a way to rid myself of you."
Mowbray took the length of rope one of his men handed him and bound it tightly around Mary's body, securing her hands before her.
Blood from her injured hand dripped steadily onto the earth at her feet, each crimson drop gobbled up by the dark soil.
Without a word, he bent and hauled her over his shoulder as effortlessly as if she were nothing more than a sack of flour.
Mary gasped as the sudden movement sent pain shooting through her wounded hand.
She struggled weakly against him, but the rope held firm.
Mowbray pushed deeper into the dense underbrush, the branches scratching against Mary's face and catching in her loose hair as he carried her farther from the path.
She could hear the muffled footsteps of his men following behind them, but none offered her any aid.
Fear tightened around her heart.
She had no idea where he was taking her, or what fresh horrors lay ahead for her.
* * *
Eldra slipped silently through the trees, becoming aware of raised voices somewhere in the distance. She stopped and listened intently, straining to make out their words, but the sounds were too far away.
For a moment, she wished she possessed Vincent's keen hearing.
Then, quite suddenly, the voices seemed to sharpen, as though an invisible veil had been lifted from her ears. Every word became clearer, carrying through the trees with startling precision.
Eldra's heart quickened within her breast.
She could make out the voice of a frightened woman, followed by a pained cry and the unbridled laughter of what was surely a man.
Her blood ran cold.
Eldra moved cautiously toward the source of the voices, keeping to the shadows, using the thick trunks of the trees for cover. She placed each foot carefully upon the forest floor, mindful of the crunch of every dried leaf and fallen branch, as to not let the snap of an errant twig betray her presence.
Another frightened cry echoed through the trees. Eldra froze.
Holding her breath she crept closer, her emerald eyes widening as she peered through the tangled branches.
Then she saw them.
Eldra recognized Mowbray immediately from Vincent's description of him. The elegantly dressed nobleman stood in the midst of the men who surrounded him, his fine clothing and bearing setting him apart from the others.
Some wore the bright colors of the King.
The king's coat of arms emblazoned across their chest plates.
Others were dressed in faded clothing and worn leather, and their weapons appearing far less well maintained.
Eldra assumed the more poorly dressed men were Mowbray's hired mercenaries. There were only three of them, though even from where she stood, she could see that they looked like hardened men accustomed to violence.
Her gaze shifted back to Mowbray.
Something about the way he stood among them sent a chill through her.
Eldra watched as Mowbray bent, then roughly slung the helpless woman over his shoulder.
The woman's bound hands hung limply before her as Mowbray turned and began walking deeper into the forest.
Eldra watched in stunned silence as the nobleman disappeared among the trees, carrying his burden as though she were nothing more than a sack of rancid horse feed.
A terrible unease settled over her.
There was something horribly wrong about this.
Eldra swung around at the sound of a twig snapping somewhere behind her.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
"Vincent?" she whispered, calling his name once more.
Silence was all that answered from within the darkness.
She stood perfectly still, listening for any sound of movement beyond the trees. Hearing nothing but the faint rustling of leaves stirred by the evening breeze. Perhaps it had been nothing more than a deer moving through the forest in search of food, she told herself.
Eldra turned away, and slipped once more between the trees, following the progress of Mowbray and his men through the forest using the trampled vegetation as her guide.
She kept low, moving as silently as she could over the dry underbrush, careful to remain hidden from the men ahead of her.
Despite her efforts to convince herself that she was alone, she could not shake the unsettling feeling that something, or someone, was stalking her through the forest.
Eldra caught the sound of another snapping twig, closer this time.
She glanced over her shoulder, panic beginning to rise within her, as she quickened her pace.
In her haste, she moved carelessly across the trampled brush, her skirts catching against the branches the dry leaves crunching loudly beneath her feet.
Then she heard them.
Heavy footsteps growing closer.
Eldra hurried forward, her heart racing, when suddenly she was seized from behind by a rough hand.
A massive arm encircled her, and the giants hand clamped firmly over her mouth.
Eldra struggled against her captor, terror surging through her.
"Tis only me," a deep voice whispered close to her ear.
Relief washed over her at the familiar voice.
The giant loosened his grip and pulled her close to him.
"Mathew," Eldra breathed, looking up into his broad, distorted face.
The smithy gave her a reassuring nod, though the concern in his eyes gave her pause.
"What's the matter Mathew?" Eldra asked.
Mathew crouched as close to the ground as his bulky frame would let him. Reaching up he pulled Eldra down beside him.
"I lost sight of Vincent when he heard the woman scream. He thought it were ye howlin like a scalded cat. He ran off towards the scream with such speed that I could not keep up with him. Then I saw ye sneaking through the trees, I followed ye figuring that ye would not be able to keep yourself out of whatever trouble had caused the woman to scream." Mathew told her a sly grin flashed across his face for a moment, then faded just as quickly.
Eldra punched Mathew in the arm for his jib.
Then fear rose in her as she thought of Vincent heading into danger, and right into Mowbray's trap.
Sudden understanding dawned on her.
The blood, the woman, and Vincent's fear that it was she who had been captured by Mowbray and his men.
"Mathew we have to find Mowbray and the woman before it's too late. He's going to use her as bait to take down Vincent." Eldra sprung from the ground, Mathew right behind her, not caring any more how much noise she made as she rushed through the trees.
Vincent was all that mattered.
* * *
Mowbray carried Mary toward the sapling that sat at the center of the clearing his men had hacked from the forest. The jagged stumps of the felled trees jutted from the earth like dead men's hands reaching towards the night sky.
He bound her tightly to the tree, pulling the ropes until they bit into her wrists and waist, making certain the knots would hold her upright.
Only when he was satisfied that she could not free herself did he lean close.
For one terrible moment, his expression softened. He kissed her tenderly upon one tear streaked cheek. Then he whispered his plan into her ear.
Mary's eyes widened in horror.
Mowbray smiled as Mary screamed.
"Help me! Somebody, please I beg of you help me!" she pleaded for one of his men to have mercy, and release her from her ties.
But Mowbray's men had already begun fading into the shadows beneath the trees. None turning back to look at her, leaving her alone with the husband who had betrayed her.
"Yes! Yes! Scream, my dearest wife!" Mowbray shouted, throwing his arms toward the heavens as he turned in place. "Let the creature know that you are eager for his eternal embrace!"
His laughter echoed through the clearing as he turned, and then he slipped amongst the trees vanishing into their shadows.
Mary's screams died in her throat, she finally understood.
Mowbray did not intend for anyone to rescue her. He intended for the creature in the forest to find her. A terrible silence descended over the clearing.
Mary began to whimper, her breath coming in shallow, frightened gasps as she strained against the ropes. Moments ago she had still held some faint hope that one of Mowbray's men might return, or that someone might hear her cries, but all hope drained from her eyes.
She was utterly alone.
Then, suddenly she remembered.
The old housemaid had pressed a slim blade into her hand as Archer dragged her from Johnas's house.
In the chaos and terror of the night Mary had completely forgotten about it.
Her heart gave a desperate flutter as hope returned.
Though the ropes held her tightly, she carefully reached beneath the belt of her cloak. Her fingers closing around the knifes cold metal.
Mary sobbed with relief.
"Thank God," she whispered, blessing Bertha and her cleverness.
Keeping her movements as small as possible, Mary drew the blade from the waist of her cape, concealing it from prying eyes against her palm.
For the first time since Mowbray had carried her into the clearing, a determined spark returned to her eyes.
Thanks to Bertha she was not entirely helpless, and if Mowbray believed she would simply wait obediently for the creature to come and claim her, he had made one fatal mistake.
Mary tightened her fingers around the blade. She would not die without a fight.