Heart of the Hunter Page 31

  "Obviously not here."

  "You're lying." Le Nantres stormed to the reliquary on the altar and threw open the lid with a bang. He plunged his hand into the treasures housed within and stirred the lot of them, careless in his haste to have what he had come to claim. "Worthless trinkets, all of this," he hissed. He gave up on the casket of artifacts and church baubles, pivoting to face Braedon once more. His gaze slid to a priceless urn that sat on the deep embrasure beneath the window; an instant later, he sent the vessel crashing into the opposite wall. The ancient earthenware shattered in a thousand pieces, punctuating Draec's vivid oath. "I need that cup, you understand? I won't leave here without it."

  "Braedon." From behind him, on the floor with Ariana, Kenrick called to him in a quiet, strangled voice. "We don't have much time," he said when Braedon turned his head to look at them. "She's fading."

  Like a hundred-stone weight, those words pressed down on his heart. Bleak and hopeless, too impossible to believe. By the Cross, but if he had the Calasaar cup--if he'd had the accursed Dragon Chalice in whole--he would give it to Draec now. He would give him anything, if only Ariana weren't slipping away from him in a pool of blood at his feet. She was his light, his heart--God's love, she was the very meaning of his life--and he was losing her.

  Ignoring le Nantres' demanding presence, in total defiance of the sword that was a mere hairbreadth from ending his suffering, Braedon turned around and knelt beside his ladylove. So much blood. Her breath was naught but quick, shallow pants. Her beautiful blue eyes kept dimming beneath the heavy droop of her lids. Somehow she managed a small smile for him.

  "Braedon," she said, though it was a soundless word on her lips, little better than a sigh.

  "I'm here," he told her. "I'm here. I'll never leave you, Ariana. Never."

  Her chin trembled. "It's...so cold."

  "I know, angel." He brought her into his arms, gingerly, lest he cause her any further pain. "I'll keep you warm. Don't worry. Just be still."

  Kenrick gave him a sympathetic look, sorrow drawing a thin line at the corners of his mouth.

  "Le Chasseur," Draec warned from behind him, "our business is not finished."

  "I say it is." Braedon refused to give another thought to le Nantres or anything else. His focus was on Ariana entirely. If le Nantres meant to run him through in reprimand, so be it. He didn't care. He'd rather take his death right there than live a moment without her. "If you mean to kill me, Draec, then do it. You have already taken the one thing that matters to me."

  For several heartbeats, Le Nantres stood quiet, contemplating. "Nay, I'm not going to kill you, old friend. That's never been my aim. All that matters to me, you see, is the Dragon Chalice." He blew out a sighed curse. "You say you were wrong about Calasaar being somewhere on the Mont, but your instincts led you here. I'd sooner trust that than your word any day."

  Braedon kept his gaze trained on Ariana, his fingers stroking her face and the cooling skin of her hands. "Go to hell, le Nantres."

  "Yes, probably." Draec's humorless chuckle rumbled in the pall of the crypt. "I trust you'll save me a place at table whenever I might arrive. Let's get out of here," he said to the remaining guard. "That stone is somewhere in this abbey. I want it found. Now."

  * * *

  Ariana wanted so badly to close her eyes. She wanted to sleep, for every bit of strength she possessed seemed to have fled her, leaving her heavy and listless in Braedon's arms. She felt his hand on her brow, a warm, soothing presence now that darkness was creeping in. She heard movement near the door: the scuff of boots and the shift of fabric, the chink of spurs on stone, as Draec le Nantres and the other soldier departed to search the Mont for Calasaar.

  When she opened her eyes again, it was to see Braedon's face above her. His proud jaw was held tight, clenched as firmly as the hand that held hers against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat thudding beneath her palm. Steady, strong, she focused on that beat of life, drawing strength from it. Reassurance that nothing bad could happen to her when Braedon held her in his arms. But something was wrong. The gray gaze she knew so well seemed too bright, too sharp with emotion. There was fear in Braedon's eyes, and a sorrow that broke her heart.

  "Am I dying?" she asked him, needing the truth. "I feel so...strange..."

  "Ah, love. You won't die. Don't say it."

  "The blade..." She nodded weakly, recalling the moment she was struck down. "It hurts."

  "Shh, I know. I'm so sorry, angel."

  Ariana tried to tell him it was all right, but the breath soughed through her teeth wordlessly, a monumental effort just to stay awake. She reached up to touch his cheek, but her arm would not cooperate. It rose only a fraction from where it rested at her side, heavy as a lance. Braedon saw her struggle. He wrapped his fingers around her hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a warm kiss into the center of her palm. He was so tender. So comforting and strong. She never wanted to let him go.

  But she would have to, she knew. Darkness was encroaching. The full moon, which had seemed so unbearably bright not a few moments before had since begun to dim. Shadows crouched in to fill the corners of her vision. A trick of her weakening body, no doubt. Soon she would see nothing but darkness. She forced her eyes to remain open, forced her blurring gaze to stay rooted on Braedon's face.

  "Ariana, stay with me," he urged, squeezing her hand and smoothing his fingers through her hair. "Stay with me, my love. Kenrick, go get help. There must be something the Benedictines can do for her."

  Even in her weakened state, Ariana could see the morose look her brother gave him. Although doubt filled his eyes, Kenrick nodded to Braedon, then offered her a stern, brotherly order. "You stay strong, Ana. You stay with us, understand?"

  "I don't know if I...can. So tired, Kenrick. I want to sleep."

  "No." Braedon jostled her slightly, startling her back to wakefulness. "No sleeping yet, my love. You must stay awake."

  She sighed, feeling darkness flood into her vision. "Tired, Braedon...I want to go home."

  He looked at her for a long moment, stroking the back of her hand, his gaze willing her to keep fighting the sleep that beckoned so strongly. "All right, angel," he managed to croak, seeming to force the words past his parched lips. Kenrick had since gotten to his feet and now stood beside Braedon, resting his hand on his shoulder in a show of support. Braedon glanced up at him. "Let's take her home, as she wishes. It's nearly midnight, the tide will be at its peak."

  "I'll see if I can find us a means off this crag," Kenrick said. "There were some boats docked down at the base of the mont..."

  Braedon nodded. "Hurry."

  Chapter 26

  She couldn't die.

  God's love, Braedon silently intoned, do not let her die!

  Was this the terrible price his mother warned him he would pay for his pursuit of the Dragon Chalice? Would that he had known it would be so steep. Cursing himself for not heeding the warning, he removed Ariana's mantle and laid it aside so he could inspect her wound. It was still bleeding. It wouldn't stop, and with each passing moment, he could see Ariana's strength drain. Her eyes kept drifting closed, slower all the time, her focus steadily weakening.

  "Stay awake, my love. Please...you must stay awake."

  How could his voice sound remotely calm when his heart was banging around in his chest like a drum? He mustered every ounce of composure he possessed, holding back his fear to show Ariana a confidence he did not truly feel. What he felt was terror. Marrow-deep, consuming terror. She was slipping away, and it was all he could do not to roar his grief that he was losing her. It was getting queerly dark in the small chamber, dimming gradually, but as surely as the life was ebbing from Ariana's frail body.

  Her thready voice reached out to him in the gathering darkness. "I love you, Braedon . . . so much. Love you..."

  "Ah, sweet." He gazed down at her, regret lacing every breath he dragged into his lungs. "I love you, Ariana. I adored you from the moment I first saw you. You
must know I loved you from the start."

  She shook her head, weakly, a wistful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Noble liar...you didn't love me...thought I was naught but...trouble." A small laugh puffed past her lips. "More bother than I was worth. That's what you said."

  He cursed, then gave her a rueful smile. "Did I say that? I vow, I don't recall it."

  "Certainly...did." She closed her eyes as he ran his fingers over her brow, smoothing back a dampened lock of her hair. "Stubborn-willed, idealistic...you said...you said I was the most infuriating female...you'd ever met."

  "Bluster, all of it," he admitted now. "You should have known I didn't mean a word. You're an angel. My angel." He touched his fingers to his chest. "You're my heart, Ariana."

  "Now you...tell me?" She gave a choked little laugh. "I might have known you'd...choose a moment like this to try to endear yourself to me. Now, when I am--"

  "No," he said, cutting her off before she could say it. "I should not have let a moment go by without telling you what you mean to me. I'll tell you every day, if it makes you happy."

  "Mmm," she moaned softly. "It would...very happy."

  "Then stay with me now, Ariana. I'll take you home, and I swear to you I'll tell you every day how much I love you. How much I adore you, and cannot live without you."

  "Promise?"

  "Yes. God, yes. Anything you want."

  The chamber was growing inexplicably darker. Thick shadows crept in from all sides, blotting out the moonlight. Only the slimmest shave of light remained, and that, too, was slowly becoming faint. Braedon kept his attention rooted on Ariana. He caressed her delicate cheek and that pretty, stubborn chin, needing to touch her, needing to hold onto her. With her name a sorrowful whisper on his lips, Braedon stretched out beside her on the hard, cold slate of the treasure room floor. He gathered her close to him, giving her the warmth of his body.

  "Shall I tell you how life will be for us once we're away from here?" he asked, needing to fill the quiet with lighter thoughts. With some glimmer of hope, even if that hope seemed only a fragile illusion. He pressed a kiss to her dampened brow. "Would you like to know how I intend to woo you, dear lady, and win your heart forever?"

  "You have my heart," she whispered. "You...always will."

  Undeservedly, he thought, looking at her fragile, broken body and hearing the life slowly ebb from her with each passing moment. "I mean to earn your love, Ariana. I'll never be worthy, but if you promise to stay with me now--to fight this, and let me take you home to Clairmont--I vow I will spend every day of my life devoted to you in all ways."

  "Mmm...like the sound of that," she sighed.

  "I give you my oath, lady. I will never let a single day pass without telling you that I love you. And a kiss," he added, "every day, you shall have a minimum of one kiss. Starting now." Lifting himself to his elbow, he pressed his lips to hers, savoring the sweet, tender feel of their mouths brushing together. He could hardly summon the will to break the contact, lingering there as though to never part with her.

  When at last he did draw back, it was to find her watching him, a pleasured look in the shadowed blue of her eyes. "And children?" she asked.

  "Of course. As many as you like."

  "I would have liked to have had your children, Braedon."

  "Then so you shall," he told her. "A dozen, if it makes you happy."

  She smiled. "A dozen would be acceptable...to start."

  "As you wish. Anything you wish."

  "And...you'll marry me?"

  "I wed you here and now, my lady." He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to her pale fingers. "If you'll have me, Ariana, I would be proud to take you as my bride. I love you. God knows, all I wish is for us to be able to hold each other, to love each other, for the rest of our lives."

  She gave him a sad little smile. "Nay, my lord." She shook her head, faintly denying this last request as her eyes began to drift closed once more. "Braedon le Chasseur...lord of my heart...I will love you forever."

  Although he tried, Braedon could not hold back the stinging tear that streaked down his face as Ariana slipped toward unconsciousness. She was still breathing, but for how much longer, he could not be certain. She had lost a great deal of blood. The sword wound was brutal, more brutal than many he had seen in combat. No amount of promises or praying would see her through this trial. He was losing her, right there. Right now. Sorrow, raw and shattering, choked him. He fought the anguish with all he had, but it was stronger than him. He held onto Ariana, ordering her to fight, to hang on, but he could feel her slipping away.

  Dark and darker his world became--the darkest hour of his life. He did not think he could endure this abyss of pending loss. As if to echo the gloom that swelled within him, the chamber light now seemed all but doused. A deep blackness pervaded the space around them, plunging the room into an eerie, almost lightless chasm. Even the full moon could not penetrate the queer, coming darkness. The glowing orb seemed all but snuffed outside the window, visible only by a sliver of white.

  The strangeness of it drew Braedon's attention to the mullioned pane of glass above the altar. He rose to his feet and walked, almost trancelike, to peer outside.

  "What the devil...?"

  The moon was gone.

  Full and round but a short while ago, now only the barest edge remained. That edge of milky white burned bright, but it was being slowly devoured by an encroaching shadow of black. Like clouds, only he had never seen clouds so thick, or so uniformly round as the shadow that began to slide farther over the moon. As he watched, unsure what to make of the anomaly, the blackness covered the last of the light, plunging the abbey chamber and everything outside into complete and utter darkness.

  "Braedon...are you here?"

  "Yes, love. It's all right. I am still with you."

  "Dark," she said, her voice sounding faint behind him, parched and thin with fear. "It's getting very dark."

  He knew how she disliked the dark, and he would not permit her to suffer a single moment of apprehension. Not now. "Don't be afraid. I'll get a light from the other room," he said, turning his attention away from the deep night sky and its suddenly missing moon.

  All he took was one step. One step, and then he saw it. The smallest, faintest glimmer, emanating from the far wall of the chamber. He paused where he stood, peering suspiciously into the dark as the glimmer swelled to life. Like orange embers drawing flame, behind the bricks in the wall, slowly, steadily, the glimmer became a glow. Braedon walked toward it, drawn as though entranced. Warmth emanated from the smooth wall of stones. Light broke through in fingers of illumination, a line of flame-bright heat that seemed to form an arch in the wall.

  A door, he realized in astonishment.

  A door that was no door at all, but a part of the wall itself, its hidden frame outlined now by the breaking prisms of light.

  "My God. Ariana, do you see this?"

  Drawing his breath in wonder, he lifted his hand to touch the wall, to determine if what he was seeing were real. He pressed the flat of his palm to the warm stone, cautiously, amazed by the power he felt vibrating from the other side. It was so pure, so strong--

  The bricks beneath his fingertips suddenly began to tremble.

  Braedon drew back at once, wary. But the bricks kept trembling, shifting as though the mortar could not hold them. And the light behind the wall grew brighter, blinding. Braedon turned his face away from the piercing rays that seemed to hold the force of a hundred flames. He heard the stone wall begin to scrape on itself, the sound of pebbles breaking loose, crumbling onto the slate floor at his feet. He shielded his eyes with his forearm and watched in sheer amazement as the center of the ancient stone wall rattled and shook...then fell to dust before him.

  Behind it now, in the gaping arch left by the rubble, was a door. Light still burned on the other side of that wooden portal. Mystical, beckoning. Braedon touched the latch on the small wooden panel, and the door swung wide w
ithout a sound. He stepped forward, into the arched space that had only a few minutes ago been sealed by two solid feet of stone and mortar. He entered through the hidden door, and looked down a steep flight of granite stairs. The light was brighter down below, as though pulsing from the heart of the Mont itself.

  Braedon entered cautiously, his hands held out at his sides, feeling along the wall as he began his descent. Peculiar etchings marked the smooth wall of the stairwell. They looked to be letters and strange little shapes, carved into the granite with stunning precision. The markings were graceful and artistic, but their meaning was indecipherable to him as he continued down, awestruck and anxious as to what he might find at the base of this secret passageway.

  "Calasaar."

  His voice was a gasp of awe as he reached the final step and came to stand before a raised pedestal of shining glass-smooth stone. Atop the small altar was a cup. A golden cup with a dragon coiled about its stem. And in the beast's talons was a stone of pure crystal white light.

  "Calasaar," he said again, astonished beyond further words.

  By the Saints, he had found the Stone of Light!

  With leaden legs and sweating palms, he ran to the pedestal. He thrust out his hand, ready to grab the cup...and there he paused.

  His fingers hovered just above the mythical treasure, less than a breath away from seizing it. His blood pounded in his temples--the very blood that might now seal his doom.

  Half shifter, his conscience warned.

  If he touched any part of the Dragon Chalice, he could perish on the spot. He might meet the same fate as the thief who'd stolen the other stone from de Mortaine all those months ago. The memory of it rose up in swift clarity--the girl's screams as she was forced to hold the Avosaar cup, the blinding ball of flame that engulfed her on contact, like dragon's breath, reducing her to ash in mere moments. That same fiery end might wait for him now, in the shimmering glow of the Stone of Light.