He rested his cheek on the top of her head and closed his eyes to sleep.They walked for three more days taking shelter during the day and continuing their journey from dusk till dawn. They kept a steady pace taking brief rests and forging ahead with determination.
On the sixth day, as dawn claimed the land, they came upon the ruins of an old castle. It was strange to look upon: the thick wooden front door, scarred with blows from a battle-ax, was shut solid as if to warn away visitors while the remainder of the castle lay crumbled around it.
A wooden stairway climbed to the sky and stopped suddenly; a few inner walls had remained strong while the outer walls had fallen. Vines, wildflowers, and nesting birds had claimed the decaying crumble as their home and given the sad edifice a small bit of dignity and hope.
It sat in a small valley surrounded by hills and woods with a stream running behind it. It was a difficult location to protect against attack, and Mary imagined that was why the small castle was now neglected and abandoned.
“We will be safe here for a while,” Michael said. “This place has long been forgotten, proving too difficult to defend.”
She nodded and walked over to the door, her fingers examining the deep scars the door had suffered.
“She stood against many blows and did not fall,” Michael said and was about to step over the crumbled castle wall.
Mary shook her head and waved her hands frantically. She went to him, took his hand, and led him back to the front door. She knocked on the door, waited a moment, then opened the door and walked in with Michael in tow.
She released his hand, turned to face him and smiled, spreading out her arms.
He understood. “You feel that by using the front door, though the walls have crumbled and we could have easily entered, the castle appreciates our respect and welcomes us.”
A sharp nod let him know he was right, then she turned and proceeded to investigate the rubble and decay.
A large fireplace remained solid in a partial wall with a good-sized cauldron hanging on the cooking hook. She looked forward to a hot meal but knew that would have to wait. They were both exhausted from the many days of endless walking and they needed a restful sleep.
Michael fashioned a sleeping pallet out of old brush and a worn tapestry he discovered beneath a few stones. He placed it beneath the stairway hidden from view just in case someone should happen by.
“Tomorrow we will see what we can do to make this place habitable for the time we are here.”
Her soft blue eyes questioned and he answered.
“We may be here a week or several weeks; I am not certain just yet.”
She hoped their stay would be for several weeks for she wished to regain her voice and have time to talk with him. She had not attempted to speak since last she tried a few days ago. Her throat had protested, her voice being weak, and her words much too strained. She feared if she forced herself that her voice might never return and the thought of being mute for the rest of her life filled her with dread.
Her sigh brought Michael to her side.
“All will go well for you, Mary. You will be moved to a safe haven where no one will ever find you.”
She had thought that was where she had been these many years, tucked away in a safe haven. But not so, Decimus had discovered her whereabouts. What made Michael think she could be safe anywhere?
He sensed her doubt. “This time it will be different.”
She attempted a smile to reassure him, or was the reassurance for her? The weak smile faded quickly and she pointed to the makeshift bed. Sleep would still her troubled thoughts. Michael seemed to agree. He moved like a shifting shadow in the night toward her, wrapped his dark embrace around her.
“It will take time, Mary, but I will make certain Decimus causes you no harm.”
Decimus will cause you great sorrow.
The seer’s words were clearly spoken in her head. Fear rippled through her—her distress palpable.
Michael’s shroud enveloped her in a black cocoon. She was safe, secure in this darkness in his arms. Nothing could penetrate, neither light nor . . .
The sudden thought startled her. The shroud protected his identity, but it was also his shield, his armor, through which no love could pass.Chapter 8Mary woke to the sun kissing her face. Fatigue nipped at her mind and body, but it had been too many days that she had gone without the sun’s company or had seen the beautiful blue sky. She shifted her body on the sleeping pallet so the sun’s rays warmed all of her. It felt glorious, and she was suddenly excited about starting the day. There would be no more endless walking in the black of night. She would once again know the beauty of the blue sky, the gentle wisps of clouds, the sweet smell of flowers, and plants fresh with morning dew.