Blazing Earth Read online

  “O mother of old. O mother of plenty. Send your life into this land, into this place, and grant abundance where there is none. Cernunnos, bring your fertility to this soil and bless it with life. As my fathers before have cried out to you for your favor, so do I.”

  He repeated the words over and over until they blurred into a single, chanting sound. He dug deeper and deeper into the soil until he could go no farther and his face lay on the surface and his body was in contact with the ground. Tolan lost himself to the chant and continued on and on and on until something touched his hands deep in the ground. Then the area around his body grew warmer and warmer, sending bursts of heat into his skin and through him.

  When the heat lessened, he wiggled his fingers to loosen the soil now tightly packed around them. Easing back to his knees, he withdrew his arms from the ground and hissed in pain as his forearm scraped along the edge of the hole in the soil. Lifting it, he noticed an area of reddened skin there. Tolan brushed the dirt from his skin and pulled his breeches on. Standing still for several minutes, he offered up a new prayer now—one of thanks for the gift they’d given him and for answering his call for help with this field.

  It would take some days for the results of his ritual to work—or not, depending on the whims and blessings of the mother and Cernunnos. However, he would be able to report to Lord Geoffrey that he’d taken measures to improve the chances of bringing the field back from barren to growing.

  His stomach growled then, as it did each time he performed this or the other rituals, and he laughed aloud at the mundane occurrence. He had called down the god’s power and all his body wanted was food.

  Once he acknowledged that hunger, a new awareness surged through him that he’d not experienced before, making the irritation on his arm ache again. As he walked toward his cottage on the edge of the fields near the village, Tolan realized that this was indeed something new, something different. Mayhap it meant the god was pleased and would grant his request to bring life back to the field? Or was it another level of the gift he and the males in his family carried in their blood? All he could do was wait and watch the field for signs of the god’s blessing or rejection of his plea. In the past it could take many days or even weeks, but Tolan suspected the answer would come more quickly this time.

  Lifting the latch on his door, Tolan opened it to find his son and the girl he paid to see to the upkeep of the house and cook his meals huddled closely together whispering. They jumped apart and darted careful glances his way but said nothing. The tension that now filled the room around them told Tolan several things.

  Blythe was a comely young woman and his son had noticed. His son was a boy no longer but growing into manhood. These two would be acting on their attraction soon, if they had not already crossed that line.

  “Good even, Blythe,” Tolan said with a nod. “Something smells wonderful.” His stomach growled loudly, adding to his compliment. The girl smiled and went to the hearth to serve the meal. “Kirwyn, have you washed?”

  Tolan stepped to the door and pulled it open. A bucket of water, kept there for that purpose, waited and both of them used it. Tolan took advantage of the moment for his warning. Better to speak of his concern than to ignore the signs and lament it later.

  “Have a care, Kirwyn,” he said, placing his hand on his ever-growing son. “She comes from a good family and is not to be toyed with. If you have needs—” He did not get the words out before Kirwyn interrupted him.

  “I love her, Father,” he whispered with the vehemence of youth and first love in his voice.

  “And does Blythe share your feelings, son?”

  “Aye. We will pledge to each other as soon as her parents give their permission.”

  Tolan felt a stab of guilt—he’d been paying more attention to the fields and not enough to his son and his son’s temperament.

  “Do you not seek mine, Kirwyn? And the lord’s?” Tolan shifted to face his son. “Lord Geoffrey controls much of our lives, and your choice of wife, when it is time, will be one of the things he must permit.”

  His son looked as though he would argue, but he took a breath and let it out. “I would do nothing to anger Lord Geoffrey,” he said.

  “Good. When the time comes for such a request, and if you both feel the same way, I will add my voice to it.”

  Kirwyn smiled then and nodded. As his son glanced past him, Tolan knew he was smiling at young Blythe. “Until then, have a care and do nothing to ruin her reputation or yours.” When Kirwyn nodded, Tolan smacked him on the back and nudged him toward the door. “Let us not allow Blythe’s good food to grow cold.”

  Kirwyn entered ahead of him and Tolan silently observed their interactions throughout the meal. From the tentative glances and avoidance of touching, he thought this was simply infatuation. Both had much growing up to do before they would be ready to consider marriage. Even though Tolan had not been much older when he first spied Kirwyn’s mother, Corliss, he did not pursue her in earnest until their sixteenth year. Kirwyn had time until then . . . however, not as much as Tolan would have hoped.

  Tolan saw the girl to her parents’ cottage on the other side of the village and wondered what Lord Geoffrey’s reaction to a marriage between the two families would be. Sometimes the lord seemed very logical and concerned for his villeins’ contentedness. But more recently, he’d been preoccupied with some great endeavor that took him from the area for weeks at a time. Fields, herds, and other critical aspects of their lives seemed unimportant right now.

  A new interest drew Tolan’s attentions and efforts. A shiver tore through his body then, shaking him to his very core. Somehow he knew that whatever was happening involved him, but he did not know how or why.

  The area on his arm changed then, turning a brighter red and burning. Tolan must have scraped it along something in the ground and now it looked infected. That would be something new, for he rarely if ever became ill or suffered from injuries while he tended the land.

  First, he would go to the stream and wash the dirt from his body. That should take care of the injury. And if it did not, he would see Elethea on the morrow.

  This strange patch of skin was just the excuse he needed to seek out the village healer and her ministrations. His flesh hardened and rose at the thought of the woman known for her healing touch. Tolan, however, thought on her other touches as he finished his tasks for the day. Touches meant not to soothe but to inflame. Caresses meant to entice and not diminish interest. Kisses meant to stoke the fire of passion between them and not to ease the growing heat they shared.

  Aye, a visit to the village healer was just what he needed for what ailed him.

  * * *

  The journey had been worse than he’d expected. Even knowing that those who carried the power of the sea and storm in their blood were set against him, Hugh de Gifford had no idea how bad it would be. The angry seas turned to becalmed ones, leaving his ships adrift in the waters north of Orkney. Days passed and he heard the grumbling that his men dared not make too loud. He’d called out to the goddess, begging for her help, even offered several sacrifices to appease her, but the only answer he received was the raucous laughter of the gulls as they flew overhead.

  However, the blood of those before him, generations of firebloods descended from Chaela herself, would not allow him to sulk or be turned from his life’s mission. Too much had been given in service to the goddess since the beginning of his family to be stopped by this. Too much paid and too much lost. This defeat was simply another test of his resolve and his faith in their quest. There were still two more circles to be found, which meant there were two gateways that gave him another chance to prove his worthiness as the human consort to the goddess who would rule the earth once her enemies were destroyed.

  More than a sennight had passed when something changed. The grip of the sea on his ships slackened and their sails filled with wind. Deciding to he
ad toward his lands in Normandy before trying to sail to the south of England, Hugh allowed himself a measure of hope for the first time in many days.

  Mayhap Soren and Ran, the stormblood and waterblood from Orkney, could only keep him at bay while they were on the sea? Had they reached the southern shores already? Content in the knowledge that he had someone in place there, not only among their people, but also waiting for their arrival, Hugh smiled and gave the orders to seek the coast of Normandy. A few days to gather more men, more supplies and ready themselves for battle could not be a bad thing.

  Indeed not.

  CHAPTER 2

  Elethea stepped outside the small cottage and stood up straight for the first time in hours. Pushing her kerchief off, she wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve. Her hair lay matted against her head, so she loosened the tie holding it and shook it free. A breeze rustled through the nearby trees and lifted strands of her hair as it passed by her.

  Pressing both fists into the small of her back, she stretched the overused, tense muscles for several minutes, enjoying both the pressure of her hands there and the cooler air here outside.

  The babe was alive and well, but it had been a battle. Over the last two days, Linne had struggled to give birth to her very large son. To make it worse, the babe had been turned the wrong way around, so it took brute force and effort to guide him into the birth canal. Wee Medwyn’s mother would most likely never forgive him or his huge father, Rolfe, for the hours of pain she’d suffered.

  Well, that was one of the things Linne had yelled out during her pains, along with cursing poor Rolfe’s parentage and his other attributes. The words brought a smile to Thea’s face now, for most women did the same thing during childbirth. And the pain and those harsh words usually faded at the babe’s first smile . . . or burp. She’d seen it happen countless times.

  From the happy murmurings she could hear inside, she thought everyone might be well enough and already on the path to forgiving and forgiveness. A pang of bittersweet envy filled her heart then at the sounds—the soft words being exchanged by husband and wife. She allowed it for a moment and used the time to ease out the tangles in her hair before gathering it once more into a braid.

  Stuffing her kerchief in a pocket, Thea knocked on the door and pushed it open a bit, peering in at the new family. Rolfe’s mother would arrive in the morn to help Linne out with the babe and other tasks, so they would be in the hands of a good woman.

  “I am leaving now,” she said in a soft voice. “Summon me if you have need, at any hour, Linne.”

  The woman nodded. “My thanks, Elethea,” she said without pausing as she rubbed the babe’s head. “I could not have done this without you.”

  “Rest as you can this night. I will check in on you on the morrow,” Thea promised.

  She needed to escape. The feelings of loss and guilt and emptiness assailed her worst at times like this. No words could fill the empty space within her, and no power on earth could give her a child. She could only content herself in knowing that she had helped many babes safely into this world.

  Thea gathered up her supplies and put them in her basket, quietly moving around the room. When the babe whimpered, her knees nearly buckled. When Linne soothed him with sweet words and touches, her soul cried out in pain. She hurried her last steps and left quickly, pulling the door closed on Rolfe’s words.

  “Our thanks. . . .”

  Her steps were rushed and quick as she made her way from their cottage in the darkness, along the path that led to the edge of village toward the woods. Only the moon’s light illuminated her way and soon she plunged into the thicket. Following the flickers of light as they touched the ripples of the water, she slowed her pace and walked along the stream. There was a small pool that gathered near the turn of the stream, and she sought it now.

  She’d spent many hours at the pool, allowing its calm current to ease her raged soul. Especially after helping with a birth. More especially when the delivery was not successful. For all her abilities and her seeming gift for healing, sometimes people died.

  Babies died.

  Those were the worst and each time it chipped away a bit of her heart, leaving her almost as damaged as when she lost her own. . . .

  She had reached the pool just as the heat struck her, forcing her to her knees as it burst forth, from inside her. It had happened like this many times before, but this, this time it felt stronger and deeper than any she’d known. Like the piercing heat of a roaring fire, it spread through her, making her sweat anew and sending tremors through her body.

  Reaching down, she tugged her kerchief from her pocket and dipped it in the cold water. The first swipe of it across her brow cooled some of the heat, but it returned. Waves of heat poured through her body. She put the cloth back in the water and repeated the soothing action several times before stopping, not bothering to wring the cold water from it. Then, as quickly as it had struck, it left, leaving her chilled and shaking.

  Shivers tore through her body then, and the wet kerchief that had offered relief now caused pain. She tossed it to the ground and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to stop the shaking. Hers had little effect, but the large, strong, masculine arms that surrounded her had more.

  “Thea, what are you doing here?” Tolan lifted her to her feet, never releasing her from his embrace. “Are you ill?”

  She could not be ill, for the first thing she noticed was that he wore nothing but his breeches. His chest was bare, wet, and hard as he held her close. She closed her eyes for but a moment in an attempt to absorb some of his strength. Then she lifted her head and turned in his arms.

  “Nay, not ill,” she said, not yet able to meet his gaze.

  “Ah,” he whispered, touching his lips to her forehead. “Another birth? Or a death?” Stunned by his awareness, she frowned and looked into his dark brown eyes.

  “A birth,” she said, searching his face.

  How had he known this part of her? She thought that no one noticed the price she paid each time. Worse, what else had he noticed about her life?

  “And all is well? Now?” So close that his breath touched her face, he held her securely against his chest, almost as though he feared the worst.

  “The babe is well, though the birth started out with much difficulty. I thought I might lose both of them.” Thea leaned her forehead against his skin, inhaling the scent of him, allowing his strong arms to hold her.

  A companionable silence surrounded them, and the sounds of the night creatures echoed in the forest. When the shivering stopped and she felt more at ease, she lifted her head and released her hold on him. A hold she had not even realized she’d had. Sliding her hands from under his belt at his back, she stepped back. A mistake, for it granted her a better look at Tolan, the overseer of Lord Geoffrey’s lands.

  He was taller than most men who lived and worked here, his dark hair touching his shoulders, shoulders strengthened through working with the land. Lean and muscled, his body held no softness. Every part of him was strong and sculpted. She shivered once more, but this had nothing to do with being chilled and everything to do with her intimate knowledge of every inch of his body.

  “Have you eaten?” he asked, meeting her gaze and smiling at what he saw there. She knew he recognized the hunger in her eyes that matched that in his own. And it was not for food.

  “I have had little this day,” she admitted, smiling at him for the first time. “Surely you have eaten your supper?”

  The night had fallen some time ago and she knew that he had a girl to make his and his son’s meals. He held out his hand to her. “Come. There is plenty in the pot and ’tis still warm. Even some bread and cheese.”

  “I wanted to wash,” she said, glancing at the water.

  “The water is frigid here, Thea. I will warm some for your use.”

  Thea knew that warming
the water would lead to him helping her bathe. And that would lead to other pleasurable things. But her exhaustion was bone-deep and she doubted anything could rouse her body and keep her awake this night. She took his hand and allowed him to lead her back down the path to the village to his cottage even knowing ’twould do him no good.

  They paused at his home to get the promised food before walking on to hers. While she ate, he built up the fire in the hearth and heated water for her use, all without uttering a word. Then she felt him at her back as he pulled her to stand. Thea’s first thought was that she was too exhausted for anything but sleep, but even she was surprised when her body sought not sleep but more of his caresses.

  Once she was clean, his touch became something else, something more insistent and enticing. Arousing and invigorating. With few demands of his own and with an unexpected patience and generosity, Tolan tended to her through the night.

  His touch and attentions eased her worries and the tension that followed her for days after seeing to a birth or death. His mouth and hands awakened the joy from deep within her and allowed her body to rejuvenate and refresh itself. His words soothed the fragility that haunted her yet and made her feel alive and living. All things she’d never expected to find with any man after her husband had died. She fell asleep smiling at that realization.

  But the next morn, when she woke in her own bed and he was gone, she swore she would never underestimate his determination again.

  When Thea rose and dressed, readying for another busy day in her life here, she noticed it. A patch of skin, on her forearm, was red and raised there. Almost like a burn, but she knew she had not done that. Pulling her sleeve up to take a closer look, she thought it did not look like a usual burn. Or infection. Or abrasion. Yet there it was. She found the jar of unguent she used for such things and dabbed some on the area. With her sleeve back in place, she went about her tasks and saw to those she needed to tend.