Dragon Witch Series - Dragon Witch Part 12

Tiny streaks of lightning flashed through the glowing crystal ball. Silence hung heavily over the two figures as they gazed intently into its depths.

"Well, now what?" the woman asked as she lifted her eyes to the man. "Will you give him his memory back, or will you just let things float along until 'tis too late to change them?"

"Hush, woman. I am thinking," the man answered in a distracted voice. "That Miriam is just too cursed smart for her own good. 'Tis not yet time for answers."

"And what will happen if we wait too long? What if HE finds out?" she asked softly. "You know the punishment for interference in the lives of mortals."

"What do you think we have been doing all this time, you foolish woman, if not interfering?"

"We have not made any great changes, dear," she answered sweetly. "Until now we have only moved the pieces around the board and not changed things considerably. We must have care. Remember, HE can be mighty in HIS wrath."

"I remember," he sighed. "Let things develop as they may for now. I need to think about this for a while."

FOURTEEN.

Tempest quickly dressed for the meeting with her intended, but her mind was on the handsome young man she had just left. She remembered his kiss, those gentle, yet firm lips. A tingle began deep in her belly and spread out to engulf her body. She loved the way he smelled like sandalwood; those wispy hairs on his chest had felt so soft when she touched them. She sighed. She knew she had to get her mind on the meeting with William, but she would rather not have to think about him just now. She ran her brush through her hair, surveyed herself in the mirror and decided she looked good enough.

Smiling softly, still thinking about Adrian, she left the room.

She paid no notice to her surroundings as she headed down the narrow staircase to the great hall.

She ran smack into Sardon di Mercia.

"So, I finally have you alone, witchling," his voice, sepulchral and hollow, sounded as though he spoke from a great hole deep in the earth. It permeated her mind, causing a blinding flash of pain behind her eyes. Her vision became blurred, and she swayed as her knees grew weak.

"Who...what are you?" she whispered, looking into those fierce onyx eyes.

"Why, I am Sardon di Mercia, my dear. Have we not been introduced?" The hollow voice slid into her mind like hot tallow and crept into its depths. She tried to fight a feeling of la.s.situde but failed as deep, impa.s.sable blackness began to envelop her. His hands on her arms felt like ice, etching into her skin. Pain blossomed throughout her body. She opened her mouth to scream but could not.

Sardon smiled.

"Nay," she struggled to speak, lifting her hands to push him away before he took her very essence and left her an empty sh.e.l.l. "Do not..."

"Do not what, my dear," he purred. "Do not stop?"

"Do not touch me!" Her fear receded, quickly replaced by anger. Her fingertips began to tingle. Witch's power flowed through her. "Release me, demonsp.a.w.n, or feel my wrath!"

"You name me true, Witchling." There was a hint of surprise in his voice, but he did not release her. "But what is the power of a mere apprentice to the glorious workings of a master?"

"Be d.a.m.ned then, h.e.l.l-creature!" Cold, calculating fury descended upon Tempest as she channeled all her strength into her fingertips. She felt the flames erupt and sent them deep into his chest.

A startled look of pain crossed his face as he quickly released her and stepped back. His coa.r.s.e black robe smoked where her fingers had touched, but there was no flame.

The smoke quickly dissipated.

Sardon smiled. "You would make me a worthy mate, witchling," he said as he turned and walked away from her.

"Never," Tempest exclaimed to his retreating back. "I would die first, sp.a.w.n of h.e.l.l!" Tempest felt drained as she made her way slowly toward the dining hall. But she also felt the exhilaration of a battle fought and won.

Sardon was in the great hall when she entered. He sat by himself in a far corner. His knowing smile sent ripples of disgust down her spine, but she ignored him as she walked slowly toward William.

Her face was pale and William frowned, all gentle concern, as he helped her into a chair by the warm fire.

"Tempest," he said softly, "are you ill?"

"I am well, Sir William," she answered with a smile. "I just had a rather unpleasant encounter with one of the servants."

Wendall, standing nearby, heard her. "Who was it, dearheart? I will mete out a proper punishment. I will not have you mistreated by one of my servants."

"He received a just punishment, Father," she

answered, glancing at Sardon. "'Twas was nothing I could not handle.

She turned to William. "What brings you to Castle Windhaven again so soon?"

"I wanted to see your sweet countenance again, Tempest,"

he replied with a big smile. "Also I have a small gift for you.

Actually two gifts, but one was too large to bring at this time."

"William, you do not have to bring me gifts," she said. "I have everything I need. And I do not expect betrothal gifts."

"The purpose of a gift is to give something you do not need, my dear," he replied, a twinkle in his brown eyes. "You are to be my bride, and I only wish to put a smile on your lovely face."

"You are too kind, Sir William," Tempest replied, wishing she could give him the love he deserved. William would soon be her husband. Adrian's face swam before her mind's eye, but she quickly banished it. It was wrong to think of another man when she was betrothed.

William handed her a small, carved wooden box, wrapped in velvet.

When she opened it, she found a beautifully wrought silver broach-a bouquet of roses done in silver, each leaf an emerald.

On one petal of each rose sparkled a crystal dewdrop.

"So beautiful," she said softly. "'Tis too priceless for me, Sir William." She tried to hand the box back to him, but he refused to take it.

"Please, Tempest, accept this small token of my esteem.

We mine silver on my land, and the emeralds seem to spring from the earth whenever we want them. It causes me no great hardship to give this gift to you."

"But I have no gift to give in return," she tried to explain, but he would not listen.

"You have already given me the greatest gift of all, dear one. You have agreed to become my wife." William continued, "Now, I said I have another gift for you, but 'tis one which you must come to Far Reaches to choose, With your father's permission, of course," he added, looking at Wendall.

"By all means," said a beaming Wendall. "Of course, you

will be chaperoned. Her brother..."

"Nay," Tempest quickly interrupted, "I have a very sick patient whom I cannot leave for quite some time."

"Oh, but you must come, Tempest," said Marisa, who had just joined the little group. "Father, may I tell her what her gift is?" she asked, turning to William.

"Of course, dear." William smiled fondly at his daughter.

"Father received a delivery of several beautiful mares, and he needs you to choose the one you would like."

"I am truly sorry, Marisa, but my patient is quite ill and needs constant care." Tempest did not want to leave Adrian for any reason. She feared she would have far too little time with him and was loathe to lose any of it.

"I understand." Disappointment flickered across William's face, and Tempest saw it before he was able to successfully hide his feelings.

"You have been so kind, Sir William." She laid her hand on his arm as she spoke. "I hate to disappoint you. Perhaps you and Marisa can spend a few days here?"

"I do not believe there is anything pressing at home at the moment." William smiled at her as he took a goblet of wine from a serving maid.

"Excellent," said Wendall. "I have been having a bit of a problem with a few of my serfs and would like to discuss it with you. Mayhap you would have some helpful ideas."

They quickly became engrossed with the problem, and Tempest leaned back in her chair to enjoy a few moments of peace. But her respite was short as she felt eyes upon her. She looked uneasily around the room.

Sardon di Mercia sat in his dark corner, watching her with reptilian eyes. She stared as he glanced down at something in his hand. He looked at it intently, his attention drawn from the others in the room.

Tempest could feel the power growing. It drew her toward the vile darkness which seemed to surround the man. She rose and walked slowly across the room as though mesmerized, drawn toward the dark, evil power.

As she drew near Sardon she saw a tiny, black, snakelike

creature uncoil from the palm of his hand. It reared its ugly head, looking at the black-robed man, its ruby eyes glittering.

Sardon circled his other hand counterclockwise three times over the creature. As his hand made its last circle, the black opal ring he wore glowed with dark fire. The creature struck at the ring and vanished in a wisp of gray smoke.

As the smoke faded, Tempest could hear footsteps coming from the hall. Sardon looked to the doorway with a smirk as a messenger entered the room.

William hurried to the man, and they spent several moments in deep conversation. He dismissed his servant and returned to them wearing a worried look.

"I have some trouble at Far Reaches and must return home immediately," he told them.

"Father?" questioned Marisa. "What is it?"

"Do not worry, my dear," he replied, patting her hand absently. "'Tis nothing I cannot handle with a little force and thought. But I must hurry. I must leave you here, in Sardon's care." He turned to Wendall. "If this is all right with you, sir?"

"Of course," Wendall replied. "Your lovely daughter is always welcome here at Windhaven. We shall take care of her as though she were our own. Have no fears."

The afternoon gathering broke up quickly as each person went his own way. Tempest and Marisa left Wendall and William in earnest conversation with Sardon as they went to the south tower to get a room ready for Marisa.

"Marisa, this is a beautiful gown," Tempest exclaimed as she ran her hand over the pale blue material. "It must look wonderful with your hair. I wish my hair was that color.

Anything but this horrible red."

"Your hair is lovely. It reminds me of autumn, my favorite time of year. I love how the trees turn such wonderful colors after the first frost. I look so washed out next to you."

"Nay," said Tempest, patting Marisa's hand. "You could never look 'washed out'. At least you have never been called a witch, like I have."

Marisa smiled. "I have been called a witch. Once, I was

talking to a guest at our castle and his lady accused me of trying to steal his attentions. She called me a witch, among other things." Both girls giggled wildly.

"And what was so funny," Marisa added between giggles, "was that he was really ugly, and I was only talking to him because his lady was flirting with my father and I felt sorry for that poor, ugly man."

The more time Tempest spent with the perky blond, the more she wondered how she could arrange a meeting between Marisa and Tristan.

"Marisa?" she said, suddenly serious. "Are you betrothed?"

"Nay. My father does not wish me to wed yet. He wants me to marry for love."

"And you have found no man to give your heart to?"

"Nay."

"Have you met my brother, Tristan?"

"Tempest, you are being very obvious. Are you trying to be a matchmaker?" Marisa giggled again. "Is he dashing and handsome?"

"Aye. Very!" Tempest replied. "He is always in the stables with the horses. I think you should hurry down there to bid your father farewell...Do you not agree?"

Marisa smiled as she reached for her cape....

The woman was gently dusting the crystal with the sleeve of her shimmering gown. She frowned as she rubbed harder at one particular spot.