Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
AVELINE
With my hands clasped in theirs, Vosten and Toved led the way through the doorway under a narrow stone bridge just a few hours’ walk through the woods from our mountainside home.
I had not been conscious when I passed this way the first time. The journey was, as they had promised, a single step and a mere moment of dizziness before my boot touched the worn stone on the other side.
More than two full weeks had passed for us, but in Geedhollow it was still the night I had run from Forbright Manor. The blood spilled across the grass and stone was fresh.
I’d braced myself to see those horrors again, but the harsh cold and odors of viscera and death hit me as powerfully as a physical blow. The icy wind brought with it echoes of the crunch of my footsteps in dead leaves and the baying of hounds.
A guttural cry escaped my lips before I covered my mouth with my hand to muffle the sound. I turned my face into Toved’s shirt and breathed deeply so his warmth and the scent of hot stones might banish the stink of death. He cupped the back of my head and held me.
Vosten kissed the top of my head, murmured something to Toved, and hurried away, his footsteps all but silent even on stone and leaves.
Before I could ask what Vosten was doing, Toved sat on a fallen stone and drew me onto his lap. He tucked me against his chest and began to sing softly. I wrapped my cloak tighter around myself and closed my eyes.
For many long minutes we stayed beside the crumbled bridge. Toved’s songs and his heat eased my trembling.
Finally, Vosten returned. “Everything is hidden away,” he murmured, his hand on my shoulder. “I cannot banish the smells, but you will not see any of the remains.”
“Thank you.” Even my whisper sounded loud here. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Vosten took my hand as I rose from Toved’s lap. “I do not mourn for the man or his dogs. They hurt you and meant to kill you. As man or beast, I would do the same again.” Toved growled his agreement.
All but invisible in our dark woolen cloaks, we stole through the silent forest toward my house near Halston. If we found it intact, I would venture into the village to my shop.
I didn’t know the area around Geedhollow very well, so to find my way home I led Vosten and Toved east until we found Rivertown Road and then the smaller lane that led to my house.
We walked through the woods so we wouldn’t be spotted by anyone traveling through on foot or by cart.
That would be unusual so late at night, but we did not want to take chances.
A light rain began before we got within sight of the house. Even so, I caught the unmistakable scent of burned wood. My stomach, already churning, filled with dread.
Vosten took my hand. He must have smelled it too.
We knew what we would find, but we didn’t turn back. I had to see it, and nothing in this world or any other would keep Vosten and Toved from coming with me.
When we reached the top of the last hill, every last shred of hope I had clung to was dashed. The two-story house in which both my mother and I had been born, that had sheltered us all our lives, had been reduced to ash, piles of stone, and a few blackened timbers.
I took two staggering steps and sat—nearly fell—on a half-rotted tree stump. “I knew it. I felt it. I just had to see it for myself.” Rain mixed with tears streamed down my face.
“Aveline, we are so very sorry.” Vosten went to one knee in front of me. His eyes glowed with fury, but his hands were gentle when they cradled mine. “One of us can go to your shop if you wish.”
“There’s no need to go into town. The shop will be gone too.
” I took a shuddering breath and tried to think clearly despite my grief.
“This fire wasn’t set tonight in retaliation; it happened days ago, long before I escaped.
It wasn’t enough that Forbright kidnapped me.
He never intended for me to leave the manor ever again. ”
“I think you are right.” Toved raised his arm and used his enormous cloak to shield me from the rain. “What do you want to do?”
“They were my mother’s home and my mother’s shop,” I rasped, and now the pain in my chest seemed unbearable. “I don’t care about the furnishings or my own possessions, but I’d give anything to have something of hers.”
Vosten squeezed my hands. “Shall we see what we can find?”
I thought of what Toved had said about facing Geedhollow again: We refuse to give the warlock any further power over us. Returning will feel more like a triumph than a torment.
My pain and grief gave way to determination, and then to rage. By the Goddess, Henry Forbright was not allowed to have power over me. A dozen generations of women in my family had not survived persecution for me to be cowed or broken by one cruel and petty man.
I wiped my face, stood, and raised my chin. “No, I’ll go.”
“I am humbled by your stout heart.” Vosten clasped both my hands and kissed my palms. “You will face nothing alone, beloved.”
Toved held his cloak over my head as we followed Vosten to the ruins of the house.
I didn’t mind the rain—I never had. Rain was a blessing from the Goddess, cleansing souls and earth and bringing life to people, animals, and plants alike.
But caring for me brought Toved joy and eased his own heartache, so I let him shelter me from the weather.
Despite the condition of the house, I hoped to find the remains of the heavy, iron-banded trunk containing my mother’s things. I had stored it in the stone cellar. It might have been at least partly protected from the conflagration.
But as we approached what had once been the house’s north wall, where the front door had been, Vosten held out his arm to halt my approach. When I reached his side, I saw why he’d stopped me.
Someone had come here after the fire had done its work and pulverized everything for good measure. Despite the rain and the passage of at least a few days, the mud showed several sets of deep boot prints coming and going from the ashes.
The solid oak trap door that had once led to the cellar lay on a heap of ash. Cautiously, I made my way closer until I could see down into the cellar. The iron bands and splintered, blackened wood of the trunk lay scattered and twisted across ashes and bits of broken crockery.
Not only had my home been destroyed, my mother and I had been obliterated out of existence. By Forbright’s men? People from the village? Either—or both—seemed possible.
“This is monstrous,” Vosten grated. “Vicious and cruel beyond reckoning.”
Rage made my hands shake and stomach heave. I reached for Toved’s hand and found myself drawn close with my back against his chest and his arm wrapped around me.
“I am sorry for this terrible act,” he said, his voice rough with his own grief and anger. “What can be done?”
Before I could reply, Vosten growled low. “Someone is coming up the road by cart from the west. Their horse is trotting.”
A moment later, I heard the distant sound his sharp ears had already caught. My instincts told me who it was. A chill of fury washed over me.
“Forbright,” I said. “He’s come looking for me.”
He usually traveled by carriage with a driver, but on an errand like this he might have come by himself in one of the carts used by servants on the estate.
Moving as one, Vosten and Toved stepped in front of me, their chests rumbling.
I walked around them and turned. “I need to face him,” I said softly. “I deserve to face him. He needs to answer to me. Would you not have wanted the same chance?”
Clearly torn, Vosten exchanged a glance with his brother. They seemed to speak to each other without needing words.
“Stay close by,” I said. “Please, in case he’s come armed or I signal for your help.”
“We understand.” Vosten touched my hand. “We will watch from behind the house wall. He will not see us until you call or if we feel we must intervene.”
“Thank you.” I touched their faces. “I know this is difficult for you.”
“We did not get to confront our own tormentor.” Toved cupped my chin and kissed my forehead. “We would never deny you this.”
They slipped away into the dark just as the cart, with its single passenger, crested the hill. Even from this distance and in the dim moonlight, I recognized Forbright’s silhouette.
The rain had all but stopped. I threw back the hood of my cloak and sat on the low stone wall of what had been our garden.
Mother and Goddess, stand beside me, I thought as the cart reached the drive. Forbright turned so sharply and slowed so little that the cart’s wheels slid across the rocky ground.
Fury burned like a forge in my chest, but I was calm and felt no fear. Our house might be destroyed, but this was our family’s land. We had danced and sung and honored the Goddess on this soil. Forbright should have known better than to come here, but I was glad his ire had brought him to me.
Glowering, Sir Henry Forbright came to a stop in the yard. We studied each other as the poor horse breathed heavily and moved uneasily.
For the first twenty-two years of his life, Henry had been the older of two overly indulged sons who had learned cruelty from their father, Richard. Their mother had died—some in town said mercifully—only three years after the birth of her second child.
Before and after her death, Richard had preyed upon women in both Halston and the city. He’d never attempted to harm my mother, though. He didn’t fear the law, but he did fear my grandmother.
After Richard’s death, Henry, then twenty-three, ridded himself of his younger brother by arranging his marriage to a merchant’s daughter in a seaside town and set himself up as the solitary lord and master of the manor.
In public, he was a gentleman who traveled to the city regularly to stay at his club and dine at the finest restaurants.
In private, he became like his father: a monster who used his money and influence to escape all justice.