ALL HEADS TURNED as Mathew and the women entered the tavern. Robert immediately hurried from behind the bar and ushered them toward the private room at the back, getting them quickly out of sight of his early morning patrons.
The moment Maeve spotted Eldra entering the room, her face lit up. She rushed forward and threw her arms around her.
Then, pulling back, Maeve looked around anxiously.
"Where is Vincent?" Eldra's face crumpled.
She collapsed into one of the chairs lining the room, burying her face in her skirts.
Mathew slowly shook his head.
Maeve sat beside Eldra and clasped her hand, while Lady Mary moved to Eldra's other side, slipping an arm around her shoulders.
Tears streamed silently down Eldra's face as she struggled to contain her grief.
They remained that way for a long time, the room filled with nothing but the quiet sound of Eldra's sobs.
At last, Robert broke the silence.
"So he's dead then?" he whispered.
Mathew shot him a look of disgust before pulled him aside so the woman would not hear.
"Have yer lost yer senses, man?!" Mathew hissed angrily, casting a worried glance toward Eldra. He kept his voice as low as possible, careful not to draw any more attention to them, or upset her further.
"She's already half broken with grief. The last thing she needs is for ye to start talking about Vincent being dead."
Robert's expression fell as he realized the weight of his careless words.
"I only asked..."
"Aye, and ye ought to have thought before ye opened yer mouth!" Mathew muttered.
"So who's the mud covered woman?" Robert asked, glancing toward Lady Mary.
"Some waif ye picked up on your travels?" he chuckled. Mathew shot him a peevish look.
"That 'waif,' as ye calls her, is Lady Mary Mowbray, ye dolt," he snapped.
Robert's eyes grew as large as saucers. "Ye're having me on?"
Mathew grabbed Robert by the collar and hauled him up until they were eye to eye, giving the frightened innkeeper a murderous glare.
"Tis Lady Mary Mowbray," he growled. Robert swallowed hard.
"Aye... I heard ye the first time." Robert squeaked.
Mathew lowered the trembling man back onto his feet, releasing his collar.
"Tis a long story, and we are all exhausted. Can the woman stay here and get some much needed rest while I go home? Kara's going to read me the riot act for being away all night," Mathew asked the innkeeper.
Robert glanced toward Lady Mary, then back at Mathew.
"Of course they can stay. Though I suspect I'll be needing a strong drink before I hear the rest of this story." Robert retorted.
Mathew left the woman to Robert and made his way home, already bracing himself for what he was certain would be a very peevish wife.
Kara had never been one to suffer foolishness quietly, and Mathew suspected that disappearing for half the night without so much as a clear explanation would have earned him more than a few choice words.
* * *
As Vincent sat trapped within the cage Mowbray had prepared for him, he fought restlessly against the chains that bound him. Each desperate attempt sent a searing pain through his flesh, the metal burning like the fires of Hell against his skin.
He had to escape.
More importantly, he had to find a way to let Eldra know that he still lived, and warn her to get as far away from Johnas and Mowbray as possible.
He had overheard fragments of their plan for her. Enough to understand that they intended her no mercy.
The thought of what they might do to his Little Raven filled him with a terror unlike anything he had ever known.
Vincent struggled against the chains, his jaw clenched as the burning metal bit deeper into his flesh, he could not remain their prisoner. Not while Eldra was in danger.
Johnas's rat infested cellar reeked of damp and decay, the foul stench stirring an unwelcome memory in Vincent's mind, the unmistakable smell of the old couple's rotting bodies that he had found in the cottage.
Then, a thought occurred to him.
Before the mountain had been destroyed, the binding spell had called for them to be bound, body and mind, for all eternity, and though
Vincent lacked her abilities, perhaps he could use the same magic Eldra had used when she had entering his mind as he explored the caverns, and tunnels within the mountain.
If their bond held true, perhaps he could reach her. Through the searing pain, Vincent fought to clear his mind.
He closed his eyes and forced himself to think only of Eldra. Her face.
Her emerald green eyes.
The heady smell of her as they coupled. Of his little raven.
He clung to those memories as desperately as a drowning man clinging to driftwood in the ocean.
Grasping for the invisible thread that connected their minds.
'Eldra my love' He silently called her name.
'Can you hear me?'
Eldra awoke from a dream of Vincent, alone in the darkness, held captive by iron chains. Even after waking, the damp, fetid smell of rot seemed to linger in her nostrils. Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks as the horror of what she had seen settled over her.
Then she his voice called out to her within mind.
"Eldra."
Her breath caught in her throat. It was not his voice from a dream.
She could hear him clearly, calling to her from somewhere beyond the tavern's walls.
It was his voice, and it was filled with pain.
Eldra rose quietly from the mattress in the room she shared with Maeve and Lady Mary.
Their soft breathing assured her that neither woman had heard her stir.
She slipped into the shadows of the shuttered room, leaving the others sleeping peacefully.
Sitting upon the rough hewn floor, she closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind.
She searched for him, summoning him to appear before her. The dark, unruly curls upon his head.
His finely chiseled features.
And most of all, those deep pools of silver and blue that were his eyes.
She held his image clearly within her mind, refusing to let it slip away.
"Vincent."
She reached out to him with every ounce of the powers that she possessed, pouring her love and desperation into the bond between them.
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then, like a whisper carried upon the wind, his voice reached her.
"I can hear you, my love!" Eldra's breath caught.
He was there.
Suddenly Eldra found herself standing once more within the ancient stone circle.
The meadow stretching out before her, the soft green grass swaying gently in the sun warmed breeze, and standing before her, was her love.
He was alive, and unmarked by violence.
His silver-blue eyes gazed deeply into hers as he stepped toward her.
His strong arms slipped around her, lifting her effortlessly from the ground as he drew her close.
Then his lips met hers.
The passion filled kiss sent a rush of longing through her, and for that briefest of moment, the terror of the night before faded away, leaving only a desperate need for him that was all-consuming.
"You found me, my little raven," he whispered against her ear as he slowly lowered her feet back onto the soft grass at the center of the stones.
"Vincent," she whispered. His expression softened.
"I was not sure you would hear me." Eldra marveled at his presence before her.
He looked more handsome than ever, dressed in a pristine white shirt and white trousers, both so new and unblemished that they seemed almost otherworldly compared to the worn clothing he usually wore.
Looking down she realized she too was dressed in white.
A flowing gown billowed around her in the breeze like the sails of a ship at full mast, a circle of meadow flowers resting like a crown upon her head.
For a moment, they simply stood together, gazing at one another as though they had been granted a precious glimpse of a life they might have shared.
They embraced once more.
They gently sank together onto the soft grass, clinging to each one another as the wind whispered its secret language across the meadow.
Then without warning dark clouds began to gather above them.
Eldra felt the change before she could understand what was happening. Vincent began to fade into the darkness, as he reached out toward her, the fingers of his outstretched hand desperately searching for hers.
The shadows swirling behind him, as Vincent was engulfed by the darkness.
"Noooo!" Eldra cried out in anguish, reaching out towards the darkness trying to clasp his hand.
Opening her eyes Eldra found herself once more in the shuttered room above the tavern.
Mary stirred in her sleep, before settling again.
Maeve looked at Eldra with bright eyes, peeking over the side of her bed.
"Are you alright Eldra?" she asked.
"Yes, yes, I was just having a bad dream, that is all," she replied.
"Then how did you get on the floor?" Maeve inquired, a curious look in her eyes.
"I must have fallen out of bed." Eldra laughed hollowly, before crawling back onto the bed and pulling the blanket over herself.
Maeve rolled onto her back on the mattress. Bull shite, she thought.
Being unable to sleep she had watched Eldra as she had risen from her bed and sat on the floor, before appearing to slip into some sort of trance. Maeve turned her head and looked at Eldra from beneath half closed eyes. Maybe she was a witch Maeve thought, but she seemed a good witch if she was, and after all she had done for her Maeve thought, then that was all she needed to know.
She closed her eyes, and hoped that sleep would come.
She had a feeling it was going to be a long day and night ahead of them as they made their plans to rescue Vincent.
* * *
Vincent howled in agony as he was violently drawn back into his body.
The chains burned against his flesh with renewed fury, their searing heat seeming to sink deeper into him with every passing moment. His body convulsed against the iron bars of the cage as the pain overwhelmed his senses.
Before he had summoned Eldra to the stone circle, the torment had been almost bearable.
He had endured it by focusing his thoughts upon her, clinging to the memory of her face and the sound of her voice.
But now he understood the terrible price he had paid for reaching out to her.
The pain was no longer something he could simply endure. It was consuming him.
Vincent clenched his teeth, fighting against another scream as the chains burned against his skin.
He feared that if the torture continued much longer, he would lose his mind.
Yet even through the agony, one thought remained clear. Eldra.
He had found her, and somehow, they would find each other again. In this world, or the next.
* * *
Eldra could feel Vincent's pain as though it were her own.
The connection between them had become so powerful that there was no longer any barrier between their minds.
Every searing wave of agony that tore through Vincent passed into her as well. She could feel his thoughts becoming confused, his mind slipping dangerously close to madness beneath the relentless torture of the blessed chains.
She writhed upon the mattress, her body twisting in agony as Vincent writhed within his cage.
A strangled cry escaped her lips.
Maeve suddenly threw back the covers and hurried to the witch's side. "Eldra!"
She placed a trembling hand against Eldra's forehead, expecting to find her burning with fever.
But her brow was cool beneath Maeve's palm.
"Eldra!"
But she could not hear her.
Eldra was trapped somewhere between the darkened tavern room and Vincent's prison, feeling his agony as if the chains were wrapped around her own flesh.
Terrified, Maeve turned toward the other bed.
"Mary! Wake up!"
She shook Lady Mary urgently by the shoulder.
"Something is wrong with her!"
Bending close to Eldra, Mary asked what ailed her?
"Get the priest," Eldra said through clenched teeth.
"Oh no, my child. You're not in need of the priest. You just need the local healer," Mary replied, still half asleep.
Maeve slapped Mary sharply on the arm, her face suddenly stricken with fear.
"She was the local healer," she whispered close to Mary's ear. Mary stared at her.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then another agonized cry tore from Eldra's throat, and both women turned toward her in horror.
"Fetch Father Thomas," Maeve whispered.
"Quickly!"
Mary hurried down the stairs entering the main room of the tavern, terror written plainly across her face.
Robert spotted her immediately.
He rushed from behind the bar and catching her by the arm, and pulling her quickly into the shadows of the hallway.
"What is it, my lady?" he whispered.
Mary struggled to catch her breath. "We need the priest. Quickly." Robert glanced nervously toward the crowded tables.
Several of Mowbray's men occupied the tavern, drinking and talking amongst themselves, and he had no intention of allowing them to discover that Lady Mary was staying upstairs.
"Keep your voice down," he cautioned, casting another wary glance toward the mercenaries.
"They must not see ye here."
Mary nodded, her face still pale with fear.
"It is Eldra," she whispered. "She is terribly ill." Robert's expression changed at once.
"Eldra?"
"She is suffering terribly. She believes she needs a Priest."
Robert looked toward the stairs, then back at the men filling the tavern.
"Stay here," he whispered.
Robert made his way toward the table where Ferdy and Albert sat drinking.
Bending low so he would not be overheard, he leaned close to Ferdy. "I need ye to do me a favor, Ferdy. Ye and Albert go fetch the priest." The two men stared at Robert as though he had grown a second head.
Ferdy glanced at Albert, who merely shrugged, before both men turned their attention back to Robert.
"Are ye crazy?" Ferdy exclaimed. "Why do ye need the priest fer?"
"Keep yer voice down, just go fetch the priest, ye daft bugger," Robert whispered sharply.
Ferdy studied the fearful look upon Robert's face.
Whatever he saw there made him think better of asking any more questions. He slid his chair back and rose to his feet.
"Alrigh', alright. Hold yer water. We'll go fetch the priest, but I don't know if he'll come with us."
Robert glanced toward the stairs, his mind racing.
He needed a reason for Father Thomas to come quickly one that would not arouse the suspicion of Mowbray's men.
Thinking swiftly, Robert leaned closer and whispered beneath his breath, "Tell him a man is dying."
Ferdy's eyes widened.
Robert gave him a hard look.
"And if the priest asks who, tell him ye don't know. Just get him here." Robert returned to where Mary waited.
"Who were those two men I saw you talking to?" Mary asked.
Robert wiped the sweat from his brow with a filthy bar towel before answering.
"Don't worry, my lady, they can be trusted," he replied.
Mary cast a wary look around the room, and as she did, she recognized several of the men seated at the tables who had accompanied her husband into the clearing the previous night.
Most of them looking considerably worse for wear.
'Good!' She thought grimly. 'And I hope Vincent gave them a good thrashing before he was captured.'
The thought of Vincent brought a fresh wave of worry to her. Without another word, Mary hurried back up the stairs to Maeve and Eldra, where they impatiently waited for the priest to arrive.
Eldra twisted in agony upon the bed, crying out from time to time, setting Mary's nerves on edge.
'Why hasn't the priest come yet?' Mary wondered anxiously.
She remained seated close beside the bed, watching helplessly as Eldra writhed beneath the torment that seemed to have taken hold of her.
Across the room, Maeve sat upon her bed, knees drawn up before her, her arms wrapped tightly around them. She rested her chin upon her knees, unable to tear her eyes away from Eldra.
The sight of her suffering stirred a terrible memory within Maeve. She remembered the pain.
The helplessness.
The overwhelming terror of knowing that something was happening to her that she could neither stop, nor escape.
Maeve swallowed hard as the memory returned with cruel clarity, fear once again clawing at her heart.
She had hoped never to feel that fear again.
But watching Eldra now, she realized that some memories never truly faded.
* * *
Father Thomas rushed through the Tavern door followed closely by Albert and Ferdy.
He hurried over to Robert asking him where the dying man was?
"Follow me father. I'm afraid I only told Ferdy and Albert that a man was dying because, well, you will see." The innkeeper said.
Father Thomas gave Robert a puzzled look before following him.
Robert ushered the priest up the stairs and into the room where Eldra writhed in agony on the bed.
After motioning for the woman to follow him onto the landing, he pulled the door quietly closed behind them, leaving Eldra and the priest alone.
Father Thomas moved to the bed perching upon its edge and took her hand is his.
"What can I do for you my child," he asked, leaning in closely so that he could hear her.
"Please father you must go to the cellar beneath Johnas's house and remove your blessing from the chains." She looked into his face with desperation in her eyes. Then cried out in agony again, twisting the blankets with her hands.
The priest held a confused look on his face, not knowing what the child was speaking about.
Then understanding dawned on his face, and he jumped up from the bed a shocked expression on his face.
"What devilment have you been up to with the creature held within the chains?" he shouted.
"Please, Father," Eldra pleaded, her voice breaking beneath the agony. "If you do not remove your blessing, both of us shall die.
Do you want the blood of an innocent upon your hands?"
Father Thomas looked down at Eldra as she writhed upon the bed, her face twisted in pain.
Her suffering was impossible to ignore.
His heart was torn between his duty to ease the torment of an innocent, and the deep loathing he felt for the creature chained within Johnas's cellar. He had blessed those chains believing they would be used to contain a monster, and yet the woman he saw before him was no monster, but the creature held within the cellar was.
"Tell me child what is chained in Johnas's cellar?" he asked her.
"My love." Eldra whispered.
The priest watched as Eldra writhed in agony on the bed, as another cry escaped her as the pain surged through their connection.
Father Thomas closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, the conflict within him had been settled.
"Then God forgive me," he murmured.
He released Eldra's hand and turned toward the door. "I shall remove the blessing."
"Please hurry," she pleaded to his back, as he turned to leave.
He looked back for a brief moment, before he hurrying from the room.
* * *
Bertha shuffled across the floor as soon as she heard someone pounding upon the heavy wooden door.
Before she could reach it, the pounding came again, louder this time. She hurried to unlatch it, the moment the door swung open, Father Thomas rushed across the threshold without waiting to be invited inside. His eyes were wild, and his expression was one of desperation.
Bertha stepped aside just in time, to narrowly avoid being knocked from her feet.
"What in Jesus' name are ye doing, rushing through the door like that, Father?" she demanded.
Father Thomas seemed barely able to hear her.
Then he looked at the elderly woman properly, and recognition crossed his face.
She was the woman who had barged into the sacristy catching him unawares as he fed the demon that rose within him whenever his unholy desires became too strong.
Father Thomas skidded to a halt. The color draining from his face.
Without a word, he dropped to his knees before her.
"Forgive me," he pleaded, his voice trembling. "Please, woman, forgive me."
Bertha stared down at him, in utter bewildered.
"Father?"
"I have sinned grievously," he whispered, lowering his head in shame. "And I have wronged more than I can ever make right."
Bertha was so taken aback by the priest upon his knees in front of her that she scrabbled backwards, finding the chair by the door and falling into it heavily.
"Please forgive me." He begged her.
Bertha looked the priest dead in the eye.
"If you promise to leave the village and join a monastery, I shall forgive ye father," she said.
Father Thomas slowly rose from the floor, a look of gratitude upon his face.
"Yes, yes. I will," he promised. "But first, where are Johnas and Mowbray?"
"The master and his friend have gone into town and won't be back until after dark. Why do ye ask?" Bertha replied, suspicion creeping into her voice.
"I need to see the creature Johnas has locked in the cellar," Father Thomas pleaded.
His eyes swept across the entryway, searching for the door that would lead below.
Bertha's expression changed.
"The cellar?" she repeated cautiously.
"Yes."
Father Thomas turned toward her.
"I must see him at once."
Bertha hesitated, studying the priest's face. There was something different about him.
The wild urgency that had brought him through the door remained, but beneath it she saw something else.
Fear.
"Why?" she asked.
Father Thomas glanced toward the cellar door.
"Because I fear that if I do not reach him soon, an innocent woman will die."
"What woman?" Bertha asked.
"Eldra," the priest replied.
"Jesus, why didn't ye say so before, Father?" Bertha exclaimed.
Her expression changed at once, and without another word she scurried toward the cellar door.
"Quickly, follow me!"
Father Thomas hurried after her, his cassock gathered in one hand as he followed the old woman toward the cellars door, the urgency of Eldra's plight driving every step.
"Yer on yer own from here, Father. These old knees won't make it down the stairs and back again," Bertha said, unlocking the cellar with the key that hung beside the door.
Father Thomas nodded and stepped through the doorway.
He made his way down the steep stone stairs, guided by the flickering glow of torches lining the stone walls.
The deeper he descended, the colder the air became. Fear gripped him as he moved farther into the cellar. He knew what awaited below.
At last, Father Thomas reached the bottom of the stairs. He stopped.
Before him, from somewhere in the darkness beyond the torch light, came the faint sound of ragged breathing.
He removed one of the torches from the walls holding it above his head, its flickering light casting long, wavering shadows across the stone walls. Father Thomas peered cautiously into the darkness, following the sound of labored breathing that echoed somewhere beyond the reach of the torchlight.
His grip tightened around the wooden handle of the torch.
Then from somewhere within the depths of the cellar, came a low, anguished groan.
Father Thomas froze. The creature was close.
Father Thomas crept forward, though he knew the creature was both chained and caged. Even so, his apprehension grew with every cautious step he took toward the source of the sounds.
The light finally caught the edge of the iron cage. Father Thomas stopped.
Inside, a dark figure sat hunched against the bars, his body trembling from the agony of the blessed chains.
For a moment, the priest could do nothing but stare. Then the creature slowly lifted its head.
Two silver-blue eyes glowed in the torch light, and fixed upon him. Father Thomas sucked in his breath.
The fearsome creature Mowbray had bragged about capturing was not the monster he had imagined.
It was a man.
A man chained within an iron cage, his body trembling as he fought against the agony of the blessed chains.
"What do you want, priest?" Vincent spat between ragged moans.
"To ease your pain, my son," Father Thomas replied. "And the pain of someone close to you. She sent me to you."
Vincent struggled to pull himself upright against the bars.
Each movement sent another wave of agony through him, and he cried out, his face contorting in pain.
"What did you say?" he managed between breaths. The holy man moved closer to the cage.
He was no longer afraid of the creature before him.
Instead, he saw the same torment he had witnessed upon Eldra's face as she writhed upon the bed above the tavern.
"Eldra sent me," he said quietly. "She suffers as you do. She sent me to break the blessing I placed upon the chains that bind you."
Vincent stared at him in disbelief.
"Why would you do that for me, priest?" he asked.
Father Thomas looked into the vampire's silver-blue eyes.
"Because she loves you," he answered simply. "And I will not allow an innocent woman to suffer for your sins."
"Then get on with it, priest. If not for me, then for her." Vincent groaned.
Father Thomas stared at him for a moment, realizing the gravity behind his words.
Vincent was barely holding himself upright, his body trembling with agony.
The priest looked around the dank room, searching desperately for a source of water.
But there was none.
"Wait here," he muttered, though he knew there was nowhere for Vincent to go.
He hurried up the stairs and found Bertha in the garden.
"Bertha, I need water. Quickly. Draw some from the well."
The old woman hurried to the well and struggled with the weight of the heavy bucket as she filled it.
Her arms trembled beneath the strain, but at last she managed to lift it free.
Father Thomas took the bucket from her with both hands.
"Thank you."
He hurried back down the stairs, carrying the precious water into the dank cellar.
Vincent remained where he had left him, slumped against the bars of the cage, his head bowed.
His breathing came in ragged gasps, each one seeming to cost him dearly.
Father Thomas set the bucket down beside him and knelt before the cage.
"Here, my son."
The priest doused Vincent's body with the cold water from the bucket, washing away the holy water he had used to bless the chains.
The burning immediately eased.
Though the deep burns that had cut into his flesh still caused him pain, Vincent knew they would heal in time, and with the blood of the rats that scurried around him in the darkness.
"Thank you, Father," Vincent breathed.
Father Thomas crouched before the cage, studying the man inside more closely now that he had ceased struggling against the pain.
There was something unsettling about him, the priest thought. Not because he was the monster Mowbray had described, but because Vincent looked so very human.
"Tell me, son," Father Thomas asked quietly. "How did you become as you are?"
Vincent sat up straight, the movement pulling the chains tightly against his wounds.
A groan escaped him as the pain flared anew, but he managed to remain upright.
For several moments, he simply stared at the priest.
"That is a very long story, Father, and time is growing short. Perhaps one day I will tell it to you, but for now I need you to return to Eldra."
Vincent's voice was weak, but there was urgency behind his words. "Tell her not to try and rescue me. Tell her to leave this place and never return."
Father Thomas frowned.
"Vincent..."
"And, Father," Vincent interrupted him, his expression softening. "Tell her also that I love her."
He swallowed against the pain.
"And that I will never stop searching for her. Be it in this life or the next." The priest stared at him, deeply moved by the devotion in his voice.
Whatever Vincent might be, and whatever dark fate had transformed him into the creature he had become, there was no mistaking the love he had for Eldra.
Father Thomas slowly rose to his feet and nodded.
"I will tell her."
Vincent lowered his head against the bars, his strength beginning to fail him.
Father Thomas turned and made his way toward the stairs. He paused briefly at the bottom, looking back at the wounded man in the cage.
Then he climbed the stairs and returned to Eldra's side.