Bridging the Storm, Page 3

  If Aunt Vallentyn thought this man had the key, then Kate had to hope she was right. One thing was absolutely certain, however. Whatever her aunt was going to have to do to save the children, it would have to be very powerful magic. Extraordinarily so.

  Sounding more strained than Kate had ever heard her, Aunt Vallentyn said, “I will save the lives of my children, Kate.” Gone was her smooth voice that sometimes reached such a level of silk it sent shivers through her. Now determination burned in Aunt Vallentyn’s voice, a will beyond anything Kate could even imagine.

  “Yes, ma’am. And uncle…”

  “Your uncle has nothing to say to this. These are my children and I will do what I feel is necessary to save their lives.”

  Kate wondered whether Aunt Vallentyn had even spoken with Uncle Kit. Had she told him that she'd invited someone here? That she would perform extraordinarily strong magic that this man would teach her?

  If she had, Kate couldn’t believe he would let Aunt Vallentyn endanger herself in this way. Strong magic was always difficult and frequently wiped out all the energy of the one wielding it. For someone in her aunt’s condition, wouldn’t that be dangerous?

  Her aunt just stared silently at Jamie. “I must do this,” she whispered with finality.

  “But you don't even know... You've discussed it with Uncle Kit?"

  “Discussed what with me?” Kate’s uncle asked, coming into the room.

  TATIANA STRUGGLED TO rise from the chair, but Kit was by her side in a moment pressing his hand onto her shoulder to stop her.

  Kate was a smart girl and backed away. “Good night,” she whispered as she fled from the room.

  “Good night, Kate,” Kit said to the closing door. He turned back to Tatiana. “Have you written to Sir Dagonet?”

  She nodded as exhaustion began to weigh her limbs down. It had been another very long day. "We need to alert the staff to keep a look out for him. He should arrive either tomorrow night or the day after. I sent the courier on our fastest horse and told him not to stop for the night, but to get there as fast as he could."

  "Tatiana..."

  "He's got to get here quickly. As quickly as may be."

  “He’ll still take at least two, if not three or four days to come, my love. It’s just not possible for the man to get here any faster. You’ve got to be prepared for that.”

  Always the voice of reason, Tatiana thought with a frustrated sigh. “Very well. But he will come, of that I am certain.”

  “You may be right. But even if he does, we don’t know that he’ll be able to cure them. Think about it, my love. You are the strongest Vallen in the country and you can do nothing for them. What do you think this one thousand year–old man will be able to do?”

  At that Tatiana did get up, too upset to sit still. “Kate just said the same thing. I just don’t know. He has knowledge, Kit. Knowledge that has been lost to me.”

  The curtains blocked her view of the garden. She had always gained solace from her garden, but it was too important that the children remain untouched from anything that could further harm them. She wouldn’t take any chances.

  She turned back to her husband. “I don’t know what he may be able to do. Even if he, himself, can do nothing, he has to know of some magic that could help them. Just think about it. He’s known all of the most powerful Vallen who have ever lived. He was friends with Merlin! With Morgan le Fey! The Children of Avalon! Even Nimuë! Kit, he’s got to know something. To remember something. To have some idea that we haven’t thought of.”

  Kit pursed his lips, clearly unwilling to give in to the hope that raged within Tatiana. “I pray that you’re right. But don’t forget our unborn child while you are considering what you can do for the boys and little Caroline.”

  She smiled up at him, caressing his rough, unshaven cheek. “As if I could! As if I don’t think about my dear, sweet, powerful Morgan every second of every day. I eagerly await the moment she is born to me. To us. She will be magnificent, my love, the most powerful Vallen in Great Britain, if not the world! She is the Seventh.” Tatiana sat in the chair, too tired to stand any longer. She ran her hand over her belly where the baby kicked and pushed, eager for her time inside the womb to be over. “She is so powerful, Kit. I can feel it. I can feel the magic within her, within me!”

  He caressed her belly and paused at the place where their daughter’s little foot was kicking. He smiled with all the love he felt for both her and their seventh child within her.

  “Saving the other children won’t harm her no matter what I may have to do. I’m certain of it. She’s strong.”

  He lost his smile. “I worry, Tatiana.”

  “Don’t. I cannot lose my—” the words caught in her throat. Icy pain shot through her heart. She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t even think of it.

  “Boys,” Kit finished for her, turning toward Jamie who slept so fitfully beside him.

  “They are babies,” she whispered. She swiped away at a tear making its way down her cheek.

  Kit ran his hand over Jamie’s little face, frowning. “My boys,” he whispered. “Thank goodness the other children have been kept away.”

  “Perhaps it is as the doctor said, because they are boys…” Tatiana began, trying to make some sense of why these two were struck down with the disease while the elder girls and Jonathan were not. Caroline was the only girl who had caught it. She had been too young to fight it off.

  Kit gave a little shrug. “Perhaps. They aren’t as strong as their sisters, and Jonathan has kept his distance since he’s come home from school.”

  “Boys just aren’t as strong as girls,” she said, looking at her husband. She had known too many boys who had been struck down in childhood by disease and other things. They just didn’t survive.

  “No. Magically they can be…” he began.

  “Usually not. You are an exception, my love. There are more magically strong women than there are men. It’s why women have been accused of witchcraft more often than men.”

  He turned back to her, a small smile playing on his lips. “Men hide it better. We couch it in terms of creativity or science.”

  She laughed. This was an argument they’d been having ever since Jonathan had been born with only weak magical powers. Their second child, Mary, had nearly proved Tatiana wrong, born with almost no powers of her own. But at least the girl had shown a little promise as opposed to her younger sister, Susan, who hadn’t displayed the slightest magical ability. Jamie and Ewan had both been only a little worse off than their brother. Caroline was still too young to show what she might be capable of. Thank goodness the child within her would be a girl. She, at least, would be strong. There was no doubt about that.

  Kit lost the smile from his face too quickly as he turned toward her, taking her hands in his own. “Promise me Tatiana… it may already be too late, but promise me you won’t count on this man to cure the children. What if he can’t?”

  She pulled her hands from his as her anger ignited. “He will.” She didn’t dare think that he might not. “There are no other alternatives. He will!”

  DAGONET DIDN’T KNOW why Lady Vallentyn had asked him to come to Vallentyn Abbey. But it wasn’t merely her summons that had him racing to his high priestess as quickly as he could.

  It was the shaking hand that wrote the letter; the tear stains that blurred some of the words. It was the desperation that came through in so many different ways.

  Dagonet cursed himself. He had cut short all of his preparations, for what he hoped would be his next expedition, in order to go to Vallentyn. He still hadn’t heard back yet from the gentlemen in Paris, to whom he’d written nearly a month ago, after finally hearing of an expedition to some place he had never been—South America! He wanted, no, needed to get on board, literally.

  It was another opportunity, another chance at finding a cure for the “curse” that Merlin had bestowed on him in the name of friendship and gratitude. Dagonet had been so naive when he�
�d asked to be young again! Little had he known that it meant he’d never be able to die.

  Eight hundred years had passed since Merlin had given him this “gift.” He’d tried to kill himself many times since then. He’d joined dangerous expeditions crisscrossing the world, had nearly drowned a number of times. Shipwreck, war innumerable battles; he’d grown old and tried not to return to Stonehenge. He'd almost tried to jump from a cliff, but had been stopped at the last minute.

  He just couldn’t do it. He could not die.

  All he could hope for was to someday, somewhere, somehow, meet a person with the magical ability to undo this curse. There had to be someone with the ability to stop his compulsion to take his potion and become young again. Perhaps he would find him in South America.

  He’d heard some fantastic tales of the place: giant rivers, enormous trees and snakes, not inches, not feet, but yards long. And people—magical, mysterious people. Through them, Dagonet hoped he would find his answer.

  But first he had to hear back from the organizers of the expedition to see if they had space for him. He’d left word with his steward to forward all of his mail with haste.

  It was all he could do. Dagonet sighed as he galloped toward Vallentyn. He didn’t know what Lady Vallentyn needed of him, but beyond anything else, he was a knight who would always, without fail, ride to the assistance of a lady in need. And if there was one thing that he could tell from her letter, Lady Vallentyn was most certainly in need.

  But what could the high priestess of the Vallen need from him?

  Chapter Four

  THE HIGH PRIESTESS. The most powerful Vallen in the country. She may think she needed him, but he truly needed her.

  Dagonet nearly swore at himself for his own stupidity. If anyone in Britain might be able to help him get rid of his curse, it would be Lady Vallentyn! How had he not thought of this before?

  He’d been thinking of her plea for him to come to her. Thinking about her cry for help. Not once did he stop to consider that she was possibly the very person he needed for himself.

  He growled and kicked his poor, tiring horse even harder. He had to get to Vallentyn. He had to see what his high priestess needed of him and then see if she could return the favor.

  Following the directions he'd been given, he turned at the end of the forest onto the tree–lined road marked with a burning torch. He crossed a wooden bridge and then paused for only the briefest moment to take in the imposing ancient abbey that was home to the Viscounts of Vallentyn.

  There was a flurry of activity as he rode up to it. Torches had marked the way from the main road to the front door of the old stone building and made it easy for him to find his way in the dark of the new moon.

  “Sir Dagonet?” the footman asked, taking the reins Dagonet tossed to him.

  “It’s Sir Arthur Dagonet now, but yes, that’s me,” he answered. He removed his saddlebags before the groom took his horse off to the stables. "Be sure to give her a good rub down," he directed the boy.

  "I'll take that, sir," the footman said, reaching out for his luggage. "Lady Vallentyn said to bring you directly to her the moment you arrived. If you don’t mind, sir.”

  “It’s awfully late,” Dagonet commented.

  “Yes, sir. Lady Vallentyn said to bring you to her no matter what the time.”

  He shrugged. “Lead on, then. I hope she doesn’t mind the stink of horse and sweat.” He chuckled, following the footman who gave him a broad smile and led the way into the house. A clock somewhere chimed midnight.

  The lady in question stood behind a table in the solarium, carefully trimming a small bush. Her face was lowered toward the plant, but in the flickering light of the candelabra next to her Dagonet could see the lines of worry that stretched across her forehead. Lines that hadn’t been there when he’d met her the first time. She looked paler and her face thinner than he remembered.

  “My lady, Sir Dagonet, er,” the man announced, then paused and looked apologetically at him. “Sir Arthur is arrived.”

  Lady Vallentyn looked up, her face brightening immediately. She came out from behind the table, her hands outstretched. “Sir Dagonet!”

  Dagonet was surprised by her distended belly, blatant evidence that she was in a delicate condition. He hadn’t realized that she’d be so far along. He remembered that she'd been expecting when they met at Stonehenge. How long ago had that been? Time didn't seem to flow in an expected fashion for Dagonet. He supposed it happened when you couldn't die.

  Let's see, it had been the winter solstice when he’d met her and now… It was June? Could that be right? Yes, yes, he believed that it was. He shook his head in wonder before recalling what he was about.

  “My lady.” He bowed low over her hands. “I came as quickly as I could.”

  “I knew you would. You are a good man.”

  He gave a little laugh. “I am a knight, madam. How could I not respond to a plea for help from a lady in distress?”

  Her laugh tinkled in delight. “A true knight you are, then, in the old–fashioned sense.”

  He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Old–fashioned I cannot help being, I’m afraid.”

  “Oh, no, have no fear! It is a good trait. See, it has brought you to me so quickly.” She led the way out of the room. “Come, let’s get comfortable. I’ve been on my feet for too long already. My husband will shout if he learns of it.” She threw a smile to him over her shoulder.

  As he followed her, a flash of white at the top of the stairs caught his attention, but when he turned to see who or what it was, there was nothing but shadows.

  Lady Vallentyn opened a door into a comfortable library near the front of the house. A footman followed, lighting more candles throughout the room, and then waited while they seated themselves by the empty hearth.

  “Some wine and brandy,” she ordered. “Unless you are hungry, Sir Dagonet? Some cold meat and cheese, perhaps?”

  Dagonet’s stomach growled in response to the suggestion. “I’m afraid I did not stop to eat, so, yes, that would be most welcome. Thank you.” He nodded to the footman who bowed before leaving.

  “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that you’ve come quickly,” she said, getting straight to business. Dagonet liked this. Perhaps he wouldn’t have to stay long. He could see to whatever she needed from him and then return to his estate to finish preparations for his next expedition quickly. Unless, of course, she could help him.

  “Not at all. What is it that I may do for you, my lady?”

  She gave him a small smile, but it slipped from her face as she turned to stare at the fireplace, lost in thought. He waited patiently.

  “It is my children,” she said finally. “Two of my boys. They are six and four respectively, Jamie and Ewan.” She stopped to swipe at a tear making its way down her cheek. She took a deep breath, preparing herself to speak. “They have consumption. The doctor says they will not live another two weeks. There is nothing that he can do for them.”

  She turned pleading eyes to him. “I have tried everything… I am associated with Fire. I am the most strongest Vallen in the country, but I just don’t have the power to save them.”

  What could he do? The words hung unspoken in the air between them.

  The footman came in at that moment bearing a tray of food, followed by a maid with a tray carrying two decanters and glasses on it.

  Dagonet was grateful for the interruption—for the time to think about what he might possibly be able to do to help this poor woman. Her children were dying, and there was nothing anyone could do to save them. Did that mean she thought that he could?

  As soon as the servants left, he moved to the edge of his chair. Even before assuaging his physical hunger, he knew he had to say something. “My lady, I am not a powerful Vallen. I don’t know what you may have read or heard about me, but I had nothing to do with defeating Lady Nimuë. That was entirely the Children of Avalon.”

  “But you were there,” Lady Vallentyn pro
tested.

  “Yes, but that was all.”

  “You fought with them. Side–by–side. You…”

  “I’m not a strong Vallen,” he repeated. “And even if I was, my powers are not associated with Fire. I cannot heal. I follow my intuition. I can tell if someone means me harm or ill.”

  Another tear made its way down her cheek unheeded. Perhaps his choice of words hadn’t been the best.

  “I’m sorry, my lady. I truly am. But I don’t know what I can do to help you and your children.”

  Lady Vallentyn looked back toward the empty fireplace, then seemed to remember the food and busied herself with that. She prepared a plate for him and poured the brandy.

  “There has to be something you can do. Some knowledge you have and aren’t even aware of.”

  He accepted a plate from her. “I wish…” he started.

  “I’d like you to stay for a few days and talk with me. Perhaps we can find some way that you can help.”

  Dagonet didn’t know what to say. It had taken him nearly two days to get here, so certainly, he wasn’t about to turn right back around and return home. No matter how much he needed to get his work done. He just wished that, like her, he had hope that he could cure her children.

  KATE HAD NEVER seen a man with such brilliant red hair before. It was nearly flaming with color. He had to be associated with fire, she thought, putting her hand in front of her mouth to hide the giggle that threatened to reveal her.

  She’d heard the commotion at the front door while she’d been returning to the nursery after fetching a book from her room. It would have been too much to ask a curious young woman not to peek out from the landing to see the newcomer. There was so much expected of this man by so many. He was to be their savior—or at least that of the boys and little Caroline. But that would be enough to make Lady Vallentyn… well, Kate couldn’t say pleasant once more, but at least tolerable.

  Her aunt, never an easy person, had become so much more difficult since the boys had been sick. Her temper was short; her demands more harsh.