Donovan's Woman (9 page)

Marri sat on the bed, her stomach growling as she lifted the cover, revealing a whole roast chicken, half a loaf of bread and several slices of cheese.

Suddenly ravenous, she devoured half the chicken, most of the bread, and two slices of cheese. And then, again feeling guilty, she wrapped the leftovers in her napkin. She sat there a moment, gathering her courage, and then she tiptoed out of the room, hoping Serepta had returned Gryff to his cell. Hoping she could find her way there and back before the witch came looking for her.

* * *

Gryff stared at the ceiling, wondering how long he’d been out of it. Groaning, he turned onto his side. It took him a minute to realize that the guards had neglected to refasten the chain to his collar. His hands and feet were free. He grunted softly. If Serepta discovered their negligence, they would undoubtedly pay a heavy price.

Serepta. He sat, cradling his head in his hands. His whole body ached, but he could live with the pain. Right now, he had to think of Marri. He had to get out of here, had to get Marri out of here. Once Serepta had collected whatever reward the king was willing to pay, Serepta would send her home. To her death.

He tensed when he heard someone at the door; a moment later, Marri was standing outside his cell. “Damn, girl, what are you doing here?”

Before she could answer, other footsteps sounded on the stairs. Eyes wide, she ducked out of sight around the corner moments before one of the guards came into view.

“Seems like I forgot something.” The man shoved the key into lock, then opened the door.

Gryff kept his expression blank as Marri tiptoed up behind the guard and hit him over the head with a length of wood she must have found in the corridor. He grinned as the guard dropped to the floor, face down. Grabbing the guard’s coat, he shrugged it on. “Let’s go.”

“Go?” Marri frowned at him. “Go where?”

“Just follow me.”

He led her away from the main entrance to a trapdoor that opened onto a wooden stairway that descended into a narrow, winding, pitch black corridor. She wrinkled her nose against the stink, clung to his hand as he guided them unerringly through the darkness.

Just when she thought it would go on endlessly, she saw a ray of light. Minutes later, they were standing in what had once been a catch basin for the castle’s garderobes.

She followed him up a set of stone steps, then around several buildings, each one further away from the castle, until they reached a tall, iron gate secured with a heavy lock.

“Now what?” she asked, nervously glancing from side to side.

“If luck is with us, we’re getting the hell out of here.”

“And if it isn’t?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“We’ll be no worse off than we were before.” It all depended on the collar at his neck. Had the witch activated it so he couldn’t change shape?

Marri stared at him, her brow creased with worry. Well, he couldn’t blame her. A lot was riding on what happened in the next few seconds.

Muttering, “Here we go,” he willed himself to change into a giant.

Marri stared at him as he grew taller, broader, until he stood higher than the top of the wall.

Sending her a grin, he tore the gate from the wall and tossed it aside; then, to her further amazement, he transformed into a black stallion with a flowing mane and tail. When the animal went down on its knees, Marri scrambled onto its back.

With a toss of its head, the horse gained its feet. Luck was with them.

Clinging to the horse’s mane, Marri let out a whoop of exhilaration as they left the castle far behind.

“Gone?” Serepta’s eyes narrowed to mere slits. “What do you mean, he’s gone?”

Avoiding the witch’s malevolent gaze, the guard knelt on the floor, trembling from head to foot.

“Answer me!”

“I…I forgot to attach the chain to his collar, majesty. As soon as I remembered, I hastened back to the dungeon…” He paused to wipe away the sweat dripping into his eyes. “Someone hit me from behind. When I came to, he was gone.”

“Someone. Hit. You.”

“Yes, majesty.”

“And you know not who that was?” Her voice dripped with venom.

He shook his head, unable to force the words past the fear clogging his throat.

“Could it have been the princess?”

With a wordless cry, the guard prostrated himself on the floor at her feet. “I don’t know.”

“I know!” She roared the words as she drove the tip of her staff into his back. Flames erupted on contact.

The man screamed as green fire engulfed him, eating him alive until there was nothing left but a bit of ash on the floor.

Awash with fury, Serepta paced the room. Where would they go? Not to Brynn Tor. So where?

Hurrying to her room, she filled a bowl with water, added a few drops of his blood, taken from a small vial, then whispered an incantation as she waved her hand over the black water. She cursed when nothing appeared.

“Where is he?” She shrieked the words, but the water remained black, opaque.

How was it possible for him to block her magic? She should have been able to locate him, yet, once again, she had failed. Was it because he was a shape-shifter? If so, why did that give him the power to shield his whereabouts?

Furious, she grabbed the bowl and hurled the contents against the wall.

Returning to the Great Hall, she summoned her knights.

“Find them,” she commanded. “Fail me, and your lives will be forfeit!”

* * *

Artur leaned forward, hands braced on his knees as he glared at Dunnin. “She wasn’t there? You’re certain?”

“Yes, majesty.”

“You spoke to Mother Superior?”

“Yes, majesty. She swore to me that Marri has not been there.”

“And you believed her?”

Dunnin nodded. “I put a sword to the throat of one of the young nuns and told Mother Superior I would slit the girl’s throat unless she told me the truth.”

Artur nodded. He had little regard for anyone but himself, but he respected those who took holy vows. It was the only reason Annis still lived.

“Majesty?”

Artur waved a dismissive hand. Where was she?    

Relishing the freedom, the speed and power of his horse-form, Gryff galloped tirelessly across the open desert. He could feel Serepta’s location spell pushing at the edges of his being, but, as it had the last time he escaped, his own power negated the spell. Had he been in his human form, he would have laughed aloud at the sheer pleasure of thwarting her. Hopefully, their paths would never cross again.

He ran all that afternoon and into the night, pausing only twice to let Marri rest. She needed nourishment and soon.

Gryff slowed as a village loomed ahead. Veering into the cover of a stand of timber, he went down on one knee. After Marri dismounted, he quickly resumed his human form.

His gaze moved over her. “Are you all right?”

“A little tired, that’s all. Why did we stop?” She glanced over her shoulder. “I think we should go on.”

“In a bit.” Rising, he brushed the dirt from his trousers. “I’m going ahead to have a look around. I won’t be long.” He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Stay here.”

She stared up at him, lips slightly parted. She was so beautiful, her hair like a golden nimbus around her face, her eyes as deep and clear as the rivers of Tarnn.

“Marri.” Unable to help himself, he drew her toward him, bent his head, and claimed her lips with his. He hadn’t meant to care for her, hadn’t wanted to get involved in her life, or involve her in his. Now, he couldn’t imagine his future without her. And yet, what chance did they have? He had no security, no home, nothing to offer her except a life on the run…

Lifting his head, he smiled down at her. She was on the run, too. Maybe they had more in common than he thought.

“Stay out of sight,” he admonished. “And keep quiet.”

Giving her one last kiss, he shifted into a large dog and trotted toward the village.

* * *

Marri watched Gryff until he was out of sight. What a strange man he was, able to turn into so many different creatures. What was it like, to shift at will? To be a giant one minute and a horse the next? When he was a hellhound, did he think like one? When he was the wolf, did he hunt for prey? The thought made her shudder with revulsion.

Was Serepta looking for them, even now? Had the witch notified her father? If so, would Artur come looking for her? She shook her head. Artur or Serepta? Not a happy choice.

She paced between two tall trees, aware of time passing, of night falling.

Where was Gryff?

* * *

There were a lot of dogs in the village. No one paid any attention to another stray.

Gryff scouted the backyards in the area until he found what he was looking for. Resuming his own shape, he stuffed the pilfered clothing into an old sack he found in one of the yards. When that was done, he wandered through the small marketplace, lifting a couple slices of dried meat which he added to his bag, along with several slices of cheese, two bottles of ale, and a loaf of bread.

Slipping into the shadows, he shifted into a dog again, picked up the sack with his teeth, and trotted back to where he’d left Marri.

He found her sitting under a tree, a worried expression creasing her brow.

He dropped the sack at her feet, then resumed his own form.

Marri frowned at him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure?”

“When you change from the wolf to your own form, you’re…you know…usually naked. But when you changed from the horse, you were clothed.”

He grunted softly. “Force of habit, I guess. The wolf is who I am. I never think about clothes when I change back and forth. I generally become the wolf late at night, come home in the dark, and go to bed. Changing from the horse and the giant…with you there…” He shrugged. “Clothes seemed like a good choice under the circumstances.”

“But how do you do it?”

“I guess you could call it shape-shifter magic.”

“You have magic?”

He shrugged. “Not much.”

She nodded, her expression thoughtful, then gestured at the sack. “What’s in there?”

“Food. A change of clothes for you.”

Peering into the sack, she found a man’s shirt, pants, and a hat. Lifting them out, she looked at him askance. “These are for me?”

“You need a disguise.” He used the edge of a rock to pry open the bottles and passed her one, then tore off a chunk of bread and offered it to her, along with a slice of meat and cheese.

She murmured her thanks, her gaze still on the clothing, which looked recently washed. Hopefully, they weren’t crawling with fleas! Or lice!

* * *

There had been one more item in the bottom of the bag — a hooded robe. When they were ready to leave, Gryff pulled it on. As he’d hoped, it hid the collar around his neck.

And even as he touched the wretched thing, pain exploded through his body. With a harsh cry, he dropped to his knees. Damn and blast. Serepta might not be able to find him, but she could still cause him pain. In spite of what the witch said, he should have tried to find a way to cut the damn thing off when he was in the village.

He writhed on the ground, twitching like a bug on a hot rock, while Marri stood nearby, helpless to do anything but watch.

Gradually, the pain receded, leaving him curled in on himself, feeling weak and breathless.

The last thing he wanted to see was the sympathy reflected in Marri’s eyes.

Unleashing a torrent of every curse word he knew, he struggled to his feet. “We’re leaving.”

“Maybe you should rest a little.”

“I’m fine.” He didn’t wait for an answer. Didn’t wait to see if she followed him as he struck out, following a dry riverbed, the rough path screened from the village by dry brush and trees. If they continued northward, sooner or later, they’d pass the Brynn Sea. Tarnn lay in a valley somewhere beyond.

* * *

Bone weary, Marri doggedly set one foot in front of the other, silently praying that Gryff would soon stop for the night. They had been walking for hours. Night had fallen long ago, and still he plodded on.

She didn’t understand why he was so angry with her, and now, almost out of breath, she didn’t care. Sleep. She needed to sleep. Her eyes felt gritty and she closed them a moment, let out a startled cry when her foot hit a deadfall. She stumbled over it and landed hard on her shoulder.

Gryff was beside her in an instant, drawing her into his arms. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, too weary to speak.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with guilt. She had been nothing but kind to him and how had he repaid her? By making her walk for miles with no rest simply because she’d seen him in pain and it had shamed him. “I’ve been acting like a fool. Forgive me?”

Marri wanted to touch him, to tell him she understood, even though she didn’t, but exhaustion claimed her before she could form the words.

Lifting her into his arms, Gryff held her close for a moment before lowering her gently to the ground. After removing his robe, he covered her with it, then stretched out beside her. He had intended to keep watch through the night, but her warmth, her nearness, lulled him to sleep.

* * *

Gryff woke with a start, uncertain of what had roused him. Feigning sleep, he opened his senses. Heavy footsteps. Whispers. A faint scent of perspiration.

They were being stalked. The question was, by who? And why?

The only thing he knew for certain was that they weren’t Serepta’s henchmen. Outlaws, then? Or just troublemakers on the prowl?

He swore silently, wishing he had a weapon, as they drew closer.

He smiled when he realized there were only two of them. He could handle that many on his own.

Easing away from Marri, still sleeping at his side, he shifted.

* * *

Marri woke to the sound of screams. Unable to see anything clearly in the darkness, she reached out for Gryff, only he wasn’t there.

Were the screams his? Had the witch found them?

Terror kept her frozen in place. And then she heard the wolf’s growl. Another scream. Then only silence. Clutching Gryff’s robe in her hands, she whispered his name, let out a scream of her own as a cold nose nudged her arm.

A moment later, Gryff hunkered down beside her. “Are you all right?”

She nodded, weak with relief. “Who were they?”

“Nobody to worry about. Just a couple of thugs.”

The smell of death stung her nostrils and she searched the darkness. She couldn’t see anything. But they were out there. “They’re dead, aren’t they?”

“Yeah. Why don’t you go back to sleep?”

Sleep, she thought. With two dead men out there in the dark? “Do we have to stay here?”

“Not if you don’t want to.” Taking Marri by the hand, he led her a good distance away.

Finding a stretch of flat ground, he spread his robe for her.

“Did they injure you?” she asked as she sat down.

“No.” He eased down beside her. “It’s still hours until dawn. Get some rest. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

She stretched out on the robe, her cheek pillowed on her hand.

Unable to resist, he lightly stroked her hair, tenderness swelling inside him as her eyelids fluttered down. Moments later, the soft, even sound of her breathing told him she was asleep.

He continued to stroke her hair, thinking his chances of getting her safely to Tarnn weren’t looking too good. But she couldn’t go home, not with a brother wanting to kill her. Not when Serepta knew where to find her.

* * *

Gryff woke with the sun in his face. Sitting up, he scrubbed his hands over his jaw. They were miles from Tarnn. They had no food. No water. He couldn’t remember if there were any towns nearby.

Rising, he glanced at the surrounding countryside. Flat, barren. No sign of civilization anywhere.

“Gryff?”

“Morning, princess.”

Yawning, she sat up. “Where are we?”

“Beats the hell out of me. That’s north,” he said, gesturing with his hand. “So that’s where we want to go.”

Nodding, she gained her feet and handed him the robe. She blushed when her stomach growled in a very loud, very unladylike way.

“I don’t think there’s a town nearby.” Folding the robe, he handed it back to her. “We need to make better time, so I’m gonna shift. You ready?”

“I am if you are.” She watched, amazed, as Gryff shifted into the big black horse again.

As he had before, he went down on one knee; as she had before, she grabbed a handful of mane and pulled herself onto his back.

In spite of being hungry and thirsty, racing across the desert was exhilarating. She loved the feel of the cool morning wind in her face, the sense of freedom, the sound of the horse’s hooves pounding over the barren ground.

Gradually, the desert gave way to patches of green. Cactus and shriveled shrubs grew scarce, replaced by trees that grew taller and more numerous as they continued northward.

Marri had lost track of time when the first house appeared, although it wasn’t really a house, but more like a thatched hut. Several others were strung out beyond, growing closer together, larger, nicer, built of wood and brick with tile roofs.

The stallion stopped when they reached the outskirts of a small town. When he went to his knees, she slid off his back. A moment later, Gryff stood before her.

“Is this Tarnn?” she asked, glancing around.

“No. It’s too small. And there’s no convent.” Taking the robe from her, he pulled it over his head. “Stay here. I’m going to go look around.”

He sensed it as soon as he neared the fountain in the center of the village square - the unmistakable whiff of magic.