Secret Heart (42 page)

As the
sun sank lower Jenia looked back the way they’d come and glimpsed a
reflection on something beside the rough track they were following.
It looked like the sun shining on metal. The path was bordered by a
great many large rocks. An armed troop could easily hide among
those rocks while waiting for the right time to attack.

Heartened
by the possibility, she turned her head toward Walderon and Mott.
They were watching the road ahead while they spoke in low voices.
They weren’t paying any attention to her, so she swung around in
the saddle as far as she could without falling and searched again
for the reflection.

The brief
glitter was gone, but she saw Roarke sitting on his dark stallion,
with Elwin at his left shoulder. Though they were half hidden among
the boulders and they did not move she could not mistake Roarke’s
beloved figure.

Across
the distance between them his gaze met hers. Jenia thought he was
trying to convey a message to her or, perhaps, instructions. What,
she asked herself, would he need her to do to aid in the rescue he
was undoubtedly planning? And how would she know when to act? As if
he could sense her questions, Roarke pointed to a spot off to one
side of the path. Jenia looked in that direction and saw a slight
movement, a motion that flickered for an instant and then was gone.
Walderon and Mott hadn’t noticed, for they continued their intense
conversation, which seemed to be about what to do with the
women.

When
Jenia looked at Roarke again she saw his hand rise and she
understood. She had often seen him make the same gesture during
their ride from Calean to Thury. His lifted hand meant for the men
under his command to prepare to carry out an order. When Roarke’s
hand came down he expected instant obedience.

Jenia
realized that he must have sent a group of his men on a circuitous
route to a position at one side of Walderon’s party. Roarke planned
to attack from two directions at once. She had only a moment in
which to guess what he wanted her to do. She decided to create a
diversion to confuse Walderon and Mott just as they were being
attacked.

Suddenly,
Roarke’s hand slashed downward, his chainmail glove glittering in a
shaft of golden sunlight. The immediate thunder of hoofbeats made
Walderon wheel his horse around as he looked for the source of the
noise.

Jenia’s
hands were too numb for her to use them, but she lifted her arms,
finally dislodging the heavy bundle she carried, dumping it to the
ground and startling her horse. At the same time she kicked her
mount’s flanks hard. Using only her knees to guide the animal,
Jenia began shrieking as loudly as she could while she rode
straight into the side of Walderon’s horse. He shouted at Mott to
stop her and Mott pulled hard on the reins he still
held.

Both men
were paying attention only to her, which was what she wanted. But
she had to be careful not to look around to see if the two parts of
Roarke’s troop were converging on them. She needed to keep her
enemies watching her for just a few moments longer.

Risking
her life to create the major diversion that would provide the time
she knew Roarke needed to reach her, Jenia swung one leg over the
horse’s back and tried to dismount. Mott hadn’t bothered to shorten
the stirrups for her, so she had no way to slow her descent and she
couldn’t hold on to the saddle. She landed hard on the ground, the
impact knocking the breath out of her, but she was able to curl
herself into a ball so she’d make a smaller target for the horses’
hooves, or for her uncle’s fury.

As she
tried to gather her wits she heard a shout and a long, drawn out
scream that surely came from Sanal. The pounding noise of horse
hooves became so loud that Jenia feared she’d be trampled, but she
could not seem to catch her breath or move.

A screech sounded over her head and Mott fell
out of his saddle. He landed in a heap near Jenia and lay
still.

She
became aware of a peculiar silence. A pair of booted feet appeared
beside her head. She blinked, trying to think whose boots those
were. They were made of simple brown leather, not a knight’s
chainmail, nor Walderon’s elegant wine-red footwear. A youthful
voice identified the wearer.

“
Walderon’s man-at-arms is more fortunate than he deserves,
to die so easily,” said Elwin, reaching to help her sit up. “Lord
Garit would have made his death slower and much more painful than a
simple broken neck. My lady, can you stand unaided?”

“
Yes, I
think so.” Jenia finally drew a breath. “Just let me hold on to you
for a moment. I am a bit winded.”

“
I’m not
surprised. Roarke insisted that you’d know to create a diversion.
You were amazing. When you yelled and rode at Walderon, you sounded
like an ancient warrior queen riding into battle.” Elwin grinned at
her in boyish delight. “Just like the old stories my grandmother
used to tell me. Did you yell again when Walderon’s man was about
to slash you with his sword?”

Jenia
didn’t want to discuss what Mott had intended to do to her. “Where
is Roarke?” she asked of the squire.

“
He told
me to stay with you while he chases down Lord Walderon. He said he
won’t be gone for very long.”

“
And Aunt
Sanal?”

“
Lord
Giles is with her.”

“
Where
are they?”

“
Over
there.” Elwin pointed to a spot where the narrow pass widened a
little and a tall rock provided a bit of shelter. “I’ll escort you
to them.”

Lord
Giles had cut the thongs binding Sanal’s wrists and he made short
work of releasing Jenia’s hands, too. Before she could thank him,
he went pale and staggered backward, stopping only when he reached
the tall rock.

“
Giles!”
Sanal screamed, stumbling toward him.

“
Sanal,
Jenia, I need your help.” Lord Giles spoke in a low, ragged voice
that indicated he was enduring a terrible strain.

“
What’s
wrong?” Sanal cried, but Jenia knew without asking.

“
Uncle
Walderon has invoked his Power and he is trying to prevent Lord
Giles from helping Roarke,” she said as terror filled her heart.
“If we don’t do something, Walderon will kill Roarke.”

“
Do
something?” Sanal whispered in horror. “How? What?”

“
We three
must join our Power together,” Jenia said. Lord Giles was growing
paler and Jenia could tell he was trying to fight against a force
that was beginning to overwhelm him. “Aunt Sanal, give me your
hand.”

“
I can’t
feel my hands!” Sanal cried.

“
Neither
can I feel mine,” Jenia told her, “but we cannot let Walderon win.
Don’t waste time worrying or weeping. Roarke needs us
now,
not later. So does
Lord Giles need us,” she added, knowing Sanal must fight her own,
inner battle, matching her fear of Walderon against her fondness
for Lord Giles.

Stepping closer to Lord Giles, Jenia reached
out her arm and felt his big hand grasp her half-numb, tingling
fingers. His other hand stretched toward Sanal. Gulping back a sob,
Sanal held out her arm as Jenia had done. But when Jenia and Sanal
tried to clasp hands they could not do it. Their abused fingers
simply would not function. Then, as if from a great distance, Jenia
heard Elwin speak.

“
I
inherited no Power at all,” the squire said. “But I love Sir Roarke
as if he were my older brother. Lord Giles, is it possible that I
could serve as a conduit between the ladies? If so, I’ll gladly
try.”

“
Yes.”
Lord Giles’s smile at the squire was more of a grimace, for his
teeth were clenched against the pain of Walderon’s attack on him
and on Roarke. “Do it now, lad.”

Sanal
cried out when Elwin’s hand grabbed hers. Jenia smothered her need
to protest the firm grip Elwin took on her own fingers.

She had
barely an instant to offer a silent prayer for strength before she
felt the touch of Lord Giles’ clean, healthy Power. He was
incredibly strong, despite the struggle he was waging against
Walderon. Sanal’s Power was weak from disuse and Jenia sensed her
aunt’s desperation. Where Elwin stood linking the two women, Jenia
could discern only a hazy, smoky image, through which her Power and
Sanal’s could flow. Then, knowing they dared not waste a moment
more, she gave herself up completely to Lord Giles and his superior
ability.

In her
mind she saw what Lord Giles could see. Roarke was backed against a
gigantic boulder at the highest part of the mountain pass. The men
he’d taken with him in pursuit of Walderon lay scattered about
among the rocks, their swords still in their hands.

Roarke,
the only man left standing, clutched his sword in both fists, his
face grey with the effort to remain steady against Walderon’s
corrupt Power. Jenia saw his eyes bulge and she heard the scream
that tore from his mouth as Walderon applied still more pain. The
menacing figure of Walderon faced Roarke, while around them the
boulders loomed as if preparing to crash down upon Roarke and crush
him.

Jenia was
aware of something else, too. For once Sanal wasn’t shrinking with
fear of her husband; instead, she was clinging to Lord Giles’ mind,
offering all she possessed of Power for him to use as he wished.
Jenia felt Lord Giles grasp Sanal’s strength, felt him receive it
into his own soul and use it. Aching for his pain, and for
Roarke’s, willing to die if necessary to save the man she loved,
Jenia joined with them.

Through the link amongst herself, Lord Giles,
and Sanal, Jenia understood that they would never be stronger. This
was the moment to strike at Walderon, before he could comprehend
what they were doing.

Strike they did, blinding Walderon with a
light so clear and pure that he could not fight against it.
Together, they wound their light around and around Walderon like
ropes of flashing silver, cutting off his corrupt Power, forcing it
back into his own twisted mind and wicked soul until he stood
helpless, unable to move or to do more harm.

Released
from the foul Power that had held him, Roarke sagged against the
rock, staring at Walderon in amazement. Around them, Roarke’s men
began to stir. Within her own mind, Jenia understood that Walderon
had stopped those men, not killed them, because he was saving his
strength for something more important.

Roarke’s death?
she silently asked Lord Giles.

No,
came the answer.
His own escape.

Even as the thought took shape in her mind,
Jenia was aware of the final effort. Lord Giles rendered Walderon
unconscious, so Roarke and his men-at-arms could bind him with
ropes not made by magic, but by men. Drained of much of his corrupt
Power by a combined force of virtuous souls, Walderon would be
unable to free himself.

Their joint work was completed, for the
moment at least. Lord Giles gently released Jenia, then Sanal. Set
loose from the Power that had been coursing through him, Elwin sank
to the ground and held his head between shaking hands.

“
Elwin?”
Jenia knelt beside him, glad of an excuse not to stand until her
own knees were steady again.

“
I’ve
never in my life experienced anything like that,” Elwin whispered.
“But it’s fading. I don’t – I can’t remember—”

“
You
aren’t meant to remember, lad,” said Lord Giles, bending to touch
the squire’s forehead. “You aren’t a mage and never will be one,
but you’ve done great service here today. You helped to save your
master. Let that be enough.”

“
I
suppose so.” Elwin shook his head, then sprang to his feet with
youthful buoyancy. “He’ll be returning soon and he’ll want water
and some bread and cheese, I’m sure.”

“
That’s
it, lad. Prepare for his return,” Lord Giles said in a soft tone
that told Jenia he had placed that very ordinary concern into
Elwin’s mind.

“
Jenia?”
Lord Giles looked at her.

“
I’m
fine,” she assured him. “I just have a slight headache and I doubt
if it will last long. Aunt Sanal, are you all right?”

“
Yes.”
Sanal attempted to rub her forehead, then looked at her red and
swollen hands. “My fingers ache, every one of them. Even my nails
ache.”

Before Jenia could respond to her complaint
Roarke appeared from around the bend in the path. Behind him came
his four men-at-arms guarding Walderon, who was face down over his
horse in the same manner in which he had carried Sanal for so many
miles. Jenia could feel nothing but a cold pleasure at the sight of
her vain and overbearing uncle in such an undignified position.

Elwin
took Roarke’s reins and he dismounted, moving a bit slowly and
stiffly. He clapped a hand on the squire’s shoulder. “My thanks,
Elwin, for guarding my lady in my absence. See to my horse first,
then you can help me disarm.”

Elwin and the horse went away, leaving Roarke
and Jenia standing alone among the tumbled stones and the
autumn-brown weeds at the side of the road. They faced each other
for a long moment before Jenia spoke.

“
Thank
you,” she whispered. “I knew you’d come.”

“
I am
sorry for the delay,” Roarke said, sounding as if he’d only kept
her waiting for an assignation in the castle garden. “It took us
longer to find you than I expected.”