"It canna be done," Dugald said. And then he glanced at his wife, lying so still and pale upon the bed they had shared for over thirty years. How could he abandon her now? Without the wizard's help, she would surely die.
Swallowing hard, he looked back at the man standing tall and still, waiting for his decision. "Please, my lord, have mercy on us. My wife will nae forgive me if I trade our only child for her life."
Darkfest shrugged. " 'Tis yer decision."
"I have a fine ram, and a wee bit of gold."
"I have no need of a ram," Darkfest replied brusquely. "And no need for gold."
"Please," Dugald begged, wringing his callused hands. "Be merciful."
Channa Leigh squared her shoulders. She knew what had to be done. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Papa, dinna fret. I'm not afraid. I will go with him and gladly, if it will help Mama."
"Nay, child. Yer mother would not hear of it."
"I have yer word, Channa Leigh?" Darkfest asked. "Ye will come with me, of yer own free will, and stay with me for one year?"
"Aye."
Dugald looked at his daughter as if seeing her for the first time. "Nay, Channa Leigh," he said sternly. "I forbid it."
" 'Tis done, Papa."
"Leave me," Darkfest said. "Both of ye."
Channa Leigh shook her head. "Nay, I wish to stay."
"Come, Daughter," her father said.
He reached for her hand, but she shook him off. "Nay, I will not leave Mama."
Dugald looked at the wizard. " 'Tis sorry I am," he said apologetically. "She can be most stubborn at times,."
Darkfest nodded. "Let her stay."
Dugald pressed a kiss to his wife's brow, glanced fleetingly at the wizard, who loomed like a tall dark cloud at the foot of the bed, then left the room, quietly closing the rough-hewn wooden door behind him.
Darkfest moved to the side of the bed and took the woman's hand in his. Her skin was hot and dry, her breathing labored. Why did they always wait until the soul was on the brink of flight to call him? Were they so afraid of him, so afraid of his power, his wrath? Well, they were right to fear him.
He closed his eyes and summoned his power, felt it crawl over his skin as it gathered and coalesced, felt it swell and grow until it thundered within him, until he was aware of nothing else, only the power thrumming through every fiber of his being.
He placed both hands on the woman's head, and then, channeling his strength into his hands, he began to chant softly.
"I am Darkfest, master of fire and flame. Spirit of evil, depart in my name."
He felt the fever leave the woman, felt it burn through his hands, felt the weakness that had engulfed her as the sickness left her body and entered his, to be devoured by his strength.
He took a deep breath, exhaling it in a long, slow sigh as he removed his hands from the woman. " 'Tis done."
Channa Leigh stared at him through sightless eyes. "She's healed?" A wealth of hope lay in those two words.
"Aye. She will sleep through the night and when she wakes on the morrow, she will be well."
Tears sparkled in Channa Leigh's eyes. "Thank you, my lord," she whispered tremulously.
"I have done my part." He clenched his hands at his sides, wondering if she would keep her word. Wondering what he would do if she did not. Did she but realize the power she held over him, she could have easily refused without fear of retribution. But she did not know. "Will ye now do yours?" he asked, and waited, hardly daring to breathe, for her answer.
"Aye, my lord," she said tremulously. "I will come to you whenever you say."
"Tomorrow morn."
She crossed her arms over her br**sts, a shiver of unease shaking her slight shoulders. "As you will."
"Exactly as I will," he said curtly, and left the room in search of her father.
Dugald was standing near the hearth, head hanging, eyes closed. He looked up, a glimmer of hope in his deep-set eyes, as the wizard entered the room.
" 'Tis done," Darkfest said.
"You give me my wife, and take my daughter," Dugald said bitterly. He took a deep breath, and only his love for his offspring gave him courage to speak. "What will you do with her, with my Channa Leigh?"
"Whatever pleases me, old man."
Dugald's eyes widened in horror as he imagined his only child at the mercy of the wizard's every whim. "She is but a child, innocent in the ways of men."
"She is no longer your concern."
"You will not… harm her?"
"I shall expect her on the morrow." Darkfest rose to his full height. "Do not think to betray our bargain, Dugald," he warned, his voice like frost on a winter's morn, "lest a worse fate befall your woman."
"She will be there," Dugald vowed, his voice hoarse. "On the morrow."
Darkfest nodded once, and then he was gone.
Channa Leigh sat at her mother's bedside all through the night, her thoughts in turmoil as she tried to control the fear that engulfed her. All her life, she had heard tales of the master of Darkfest Castle. He was feared by all, for his powers were great. Some said he was the spawn of the Dark One. Some said he was the Dark One.
Why did he want her?
What would he do to her, with her?
Would she be enslaved in his castle, forced to serve the Dark One?
Growing up, she had heard many tales of the wizard, each more frightening than the last. Shuddering, she wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. It was said he drank the blood of children, that he sacrificed virgins to his Master. Was she, then, to be the next sacrifice? Her mouth went dry at the thought. But no. He had promised to return her to her home the following winter. And yet of what value was the word of a man who served the Dark One?
Slipping from her chair, she knelt at her mother's bedside and prayed for the courage to fulfill her promise, for the strength to withstand whatever evil awaited her at the wizard's hands.
He did not sleep that night but spent the dark empty hours till dawn pacing from one end of his dreary castle to the other. Soon. Soon, she would be here. What madness had made him demand Channa Leigh in payment? What was he to do with a blind girl? How could he endure her nearness day after day? Hear her voice, see her face, and know she was there only because of a vow made in exchange for her mother's life?
A harsh laugh tinged with bitterness rose in his throat. In three hundred years he had never lain with a woman, nor felt a woman's hand upon his flesh. He could have demanded any woman in the village, but he had recoiled from the idea of bedding a woman who had no affection for him, nor did he wish to embrace a woman who did not want him in return. Better to remain alone than take a woman by force and see the revulsion in her eyes. No, he had never wanted a woman who had no true affection for him.