Sorceress Read Free

struck, his fist slamming into her face.
    Her nose splintered. Blood sprayed over the earth, yet she didn’t flinch.
    When he saw she was unmoved, he said, “So be it. You are to die, now. Do you hear me, whore? You cannot be saved. Go thee to Satan!” He shook her and more blood spewed from her body, streaking his white collar red, speckling his chin.
    Jaw clenched, his pulse pounding at his temple, he reached into the voluminous folds of his robe and withdrew a sharp-edged rock.
    In that instant, still chanting, she closed her eyes again and gave herself over to the Great Mother. In a heartbeat, she felt her spirit rise into the tempest of clouds. As she looked down, far below, she spied her body standing defiantly upon the jagged cliff, her skirts billowing. She watched from above as he hurled the stone with a fury born of fear. The rock crashed hard against her face, splintering her jaw, slicing her pale skin. Blood sprayed upon the ground as she stumbled back. Another stone smashed against her forehead and she fell, the group of men upon her, demons dressed in black pounding at her flesh.
    There was no pain.
    Only peace.
    Her child, Kambria knew, was safe.
    And vengeance would be hers.

CHAPTER ONE
    North Wales
February 1289
     
 
On hands and knees, Gavyn slid through the undergrowth, moving stealthily, praying dusk would come quickly. His pursuers were nearby, ever closer. He heard the snort of their horses, the rumble of the great steeds’ hooves, smelled their horsehide and sweat. Above all else, he sensed the eyes of his pursuers scouring the woods, searching. Always searching. For him.
    But he heard no dogs. No furry sentinels ready to bay to the heavens upon smelling his scent. For that alone he was grateful.
    His body ached from the beating, and he knew, if he were to look into a mirror, he would see bruises and welts crisscrossing his skin. They came to him compliments of Craddock, the sheriff of Agendor, a ruthless son of a cur if ever there was one.
    And now a dead man.
    Gavyn had no time to think of that now. He would not let his mind wander to the fight, the battering of flesh, the smell of sweat or the oaths of fury. He refused to revisit the crack of bone as it shattered and Craddock fell, his head twisted at a horrid angle upon his broken neck.
    Fingers digging into the wet earth, he dragged himself beneath the bracken and scrub brush, hoping the shadows of the massive yew and oak trees would hide him as he crept toward the edge of the cliff, where a narrow path cut down the sheer face. No sane man nor intelligent beast would follow, and ’twas all he had, his only way of escape.
    Jaw set, he edged toward the ridge where the switchback was perilous, but it was safer than risking close proximity to the Lord of Agendor.
    “Hey! What’s this?” a man shouted.
    Gavyn froze.
    Held his breath and dared not move a muscle.
    “What?”
    “I thought I saw something in the . . . Ach, ’twas only a skunk.”
    A horse neighed in distress and the stench of a skunk’s defenses seeped through the ivy and ferns. Gavyn’s eyes began to water.
    “Aye, Seamus. What did ye do? Christ Jesus, that stinks! Oh, fer the love of God.”
    “Holy Jesus!” one man cried while another coughed from somewhere close, though he was hidden in the gloom.
    Maintaining silence, Gavyn watched the offending skunk waddle quickly into the shadows of a fallen log.
    “Shh!” An order.
    Gavyn’s heart stilled as the putrid smell settled over the area. He knew his father’s hiss as surely as if he’d grown up with the snake, though of course he’d never set foot in the Lord of Agendor’s keep and had, instead, been raised by one of the old man’s mistresses. He forced back the bile in his throat, for the hatred between them was strong.
    “He’s near.” His father’s voice again.
    That much was true. Through the dense foliage Gavyn noticed the shadowy outline of a horse’s legs, close enough that were he to reach forward,