Anya stumbled through the snow trying to follow the flickering torch light through the snow storm. Large wet flakes whipped up by a cutting wind, soaked the voluminous robe, chilling her to the bone. She panted with the effort of forcing her ungainly body to follow the trail that Martin broke through the rising drifts. Her gait hindered by the child that was nearly come.

Her stomach rippled with a strong movement and fought not to moan aloud from the strength of the movement. At least the baby had not suffered from the upheaval, though it had moved far less today. Maybe the child was seeking to preserve its strength as well. It would need it. They were alone in the world now and the child already had enemies that would cause grown men to shake in terror.

Her lips thinned in resolve, she did not have the time for such thoughts. The fear would take what little strength she had. She did not have enough as it was. It would have been far easier on her if she could have ridden the horse, but George’s need was far greater than her own. Her mind crawled away from contemplating ravaged face and broken body of her husband’s nephew. Without the gift of strength from his father, she feared he would have already died. The cast was going to be high though. When Martin brought George back from the abyss, he had broken his own health.

Martin could now do little more than break a path in the snow and even that was likely to sicken him. Her eyes filled with the thought of the sacrifices that had already been made. He had aged far beyond his years in the space of a few days. The harsh winds of the storm could not veil the dull gray of his hair. Last week it had been as black as the night sky.

Anya bit back tears as the events of the last week stalked through her memories, this was not the time for tears. If she started crying, she might never stop. A sob ripped from her throat as her cold nearly frozen feet stumbled on a hidden rock. Falling to one knee before she could stop herself, she cursed the awkwardness of her swollen belly and fought bitter tears against the treacherous fates.

The wind tore the broken words from her mouth, carrying them to howling oblivion. Struggling to rise, she forced herself to ignore the leaden numbness of her limbs.

The reins she held in stiff, numb fingers grew tight, forcing her to stop. She looked back trying to see through the night and storm to the mare so precious to their survival. The poor creature was standing with her legs splayed, her head hung low in exhaustion. Ice clung in frozen drips from her muzzle. Anya’s heart went out to her, she knew exactly how the mare felt but it would do neither of them any good to stop now. Tugging on the reins, she coaxed the mare to keep going for a little longer.

Neither of them was going to last much longer. Anya cast a yearning glance at the mare’s back, but it was impossible. They had loaded the pregnant beast down with as much as they dared, needing everything she could bear and more. The gravid mare in front was loaded with an even more precious cargo, George. The things Fergus’s men had done to him were too awful and too new to contemplate.

There was much that was too painful to think about right now, she acknowledged to herself. It was hard to believe that only the week before she had been happy. It seemed like another life now. Martin’s torch flickered ahead, signaling a stop. Anya waited beside the mare, huddling close to the miserable beast for warmth as he made his way back to her. His drawn face emerged from the swirling darkness, ice streaked and haggard. He looked a ghost of his former self as he clasped her hands, seeking to warm them with his own strength..

Eyes so like her own beloved’s, darkened with concern as he felt the feebleness of her grasp. “How is it with you, Anya?� They had gone past formality before the evil had come into their lives, much to the fury of her own brother.

She did not have the energy for pretense. “I am tired and will not go much farther.� She could not have stopped the lift of her head, even if she tried. Even now, she could not forget the years of pride. It tasted bitter on her tongue now, it hurt to be the liability. A smile flicker briefly on Martin’s ragged face, as if he found her response assuring.

His hand rested briefly on her gravid belly. “How is it with the child?� The gravel of his tone revealed his hidden emotions, the baby was the last of both their families now.

“The baby is quiet enough, perhaps it too is tired. I am just grateful for the rest.� She sighed, wishing the thick ache of its weight would ease a little. The child was due and past due, but she did not want to give birth in the wilds. There might be little choice though, she could not ignore the small signals with midwife had told her would herald the beginning of her trial.

It would have been better if they could have stayed in the cave, but that was too dangerous. The baby was now riding very low in her overcrowded belly. She only hoped they made it to a decent shelter before the worst of the pains came. She hurt so much now, she was not sure she would know if her labor had begun. A smothered moan echoed low in her throat as she thought of how welcome those signs would have been only a short time before. She barely heard Martin’s whispered reassurances as the dark memories she had been fighting broke over her without warning.

She had been sleeping soundly in the great bed with her lord, the baby already overdue. The huge mound of her belly prevented any position from being comfortable, but Torrin didn’t seem to mind her tossing and turning. He just sat up and began running her back, knowing without needing to be told where it hurt thanks to their bonding. When she finally faded off to sleep she musing that it would be pleasant to see the tips of her toes again. Her dreams had come quickly, filled with visions of fire and death that had become all too true when Martin burst in the door.

Her first wild thoughts were muddled thoughts of berating the guards, no one should have been allowed to disturb their sleep so. When she was able to focus her sleep-blurred eyes, she gaped in shock. Martin was standing before the bed covered in blood and in tattered clothes.

“Torrin. � He shouted unnecessarily. Her husband was already reaching for his sword his face a hard mask of determination. There was the briefest of caresses on her face as he looked at her with troubled eyes.

“Get dressed quickly, Beloved, there is treachery.� The cold emotionless tone with which he said the word chilled her to the bone. He spoke as if he were expecting something of the like. Martin averted his eyes while Torrin helped her to rise awkwardly from the bed, stark fear stealing her grace.

“Is it-.� She broke off afraid of the answer.

Martin’s eyes seemed to glow in the lurid firelight, testing her, demanding what he would have never voiced only a few hours before. “Yes lady, it is your brother.�

She moaned, the pain of the betrayal stabbing into her heart. Torrin had taken him in because she had asked it of him, offering him the recognition her own father had denied.

Martin sighed loudly and placed his hand on her shoulder in quiet sympathy. �He has betrayed us all.� She hung her head briefly before forcing herself to swallow her tears. Fergus had cast off the ties of blood, he was dead to her now. She shook her head trying to deny the cold knowledge in her heart. Her family’s name would die tonight as Fergus severed ties with blood and steel. The house of Silver Oak was dead.

A sudden shout in the hallway brought her thoughts up short. There came a sound impossible to mistake, the sound of death coming on booted feet. The men would not take them so easily. She was the daughter of ancient kings, they would not find her easy prey. Her father had taught her too well. Making her way quickly to her father’s war chest. Throwing it open, she pulled out the specially made cloak, covering her thick gown in its shifting gray folds. There was no time for anything else.

Her arms prickling from the chill in the air and the stinking promise of death wafting from the hallway. In an instant the air was filled with the roar and clash of fighting. The thick timbers of the door frame filled with the backs of guardsmen fighting desperately for their lives and her own. Martin ran to the door as one of the defenders fell, immediately filling the gap. Torrin soon joined him, pulling his academic brother out of harms way, roughly shouldering him aside. Martin fell back gasping for breath and lowered his sword to the floor carefully. His eyes darted around the room as if looking for escape.

Anya knew better than to hope that her brother was among those lying dead in the hall. He would have sent his fourth best fighters to fight a cornered sage, especially one trapped with his sworn lord and natural brother. Though he hated the great houses, he had a healthy fear of their ancient gifts and knowledge. His fear was well founded. If she had not been encumbered by the child, her own training would have taken a heavy toll on the rebels.

No, Fergus would save the others troops until Torrin was exhausted and Martin’s hidden weapons depleted. It was rumored that Martin was even able to call upon the Lundr, though the groves had slept for all of her lifetime. Martin had all but confirmed the rumors. He claimed that ability to use the groves came from being too stubborn to take no for an answer from the natural order of things. Fergus had been there when Martin had explained it more fully one night, knowing that Fergus did not have the blood to take advantage of the knowledge. Unfortunately, it also meant that Fergus would probably fill the hallway with bodies in order to tire Martin before coming in for the kill.

Her brother was many things but stupid was not among them.

“Don’t do anything, Martin.� Torrin ordered as if reading her thoughts. “We will need your help later.� Martin just nodded as he moved to a recessed wall, his face intent with concentration.

Her attention was jerked to the door as a group of men broke through the defenses and charged into the room with a triumphant cry. Anya stumbled back against the wall in horror, her hands seeking any weapon to defend herself. A roar of rage came from behind the men and Torrin burst between them. Something eased in her heart as she saw his face drawn into a snarl of concentrated fury. He was still whole.

Tears of helpless rage trickled down her face at her own helplessness. She should be beside him, but her pregnancy made her next to useless in the fight. She did the only thing left to her and opened the lifebond. Her world grayed as she recklessly poured her strength into him. It would not matter that she was weak if he did not live.

Harsh sounds from the courtyard drew her to the thin window slits, praying for reinforcements. All hope was dashed in a single glance. Hundreds of men filled the courtyard, all bearing blank armor and the cool reassurance of well-seasoned warriors. The neatly stacked pile of bodies in the courtyard spoke volumes of their origins, they moved in the manner of imperial troops. Fergus must have gained some powerful allies in the years that he was in court. It seemed that nearly every hand was turned against them.

Silence ruled in the room behind her, she tensed for a moment, half expecting a blow against her back. When none came, she forced herself to look. A grisly pile of bodies cluttered the shattered doorway of her bedroom. Torrin was moving the great chest and the bed as Martin kicked the bodies into the hall. Any barrier to their entry was better than none. None of them spoke as they heard the call for archers down the corridor.

Torrin nodded, his face grim with an unspoken decision. Her heart quailed at the resolve she felt forming within him. There was no hope in it.

"Martin, take Anya and leave, I will try and win free of this place on my own. Go to the ancient cave. Leave for the border if I fail to join you within a day." Torrin came over and engulfed her in a rough embrace. "My love," he whispered in her ear as his bloodied hands played briefly over her swollen belly. "Take the greatest care. You bear our future within you."

A long hot kiss smothered the denial that rose in her heart and left her breathless as he pulled away. She was still reeling as he turned back to the door. "I will fight better knowing you and our child are safe." He looked over to Martin and offered his arm in the firm clasp of brothers. " Leave now, I will find George." He promised in a grim voice that told her clearly he had noted his stripling nephew’s absence.

Martin caught her up in his arms with a sharp motion, not even giving her a moment to protest. A whispered word and a hint of power has her slumping into his arms, unable to move. It seems his hints of power were not bragging. Bright flickers of light against her eyelids and the harsh smell of burning pushed through her awareness. Torrin was burning their room, a moan of denial escaped her lips as a new, unidentified smell came to her. She did not even have the chance to wonder what it was before the darkness claimed her.

**********************************************************

When she came to herself again, Martin was collapsed on the hard earthen floor behind her. She could feel his still form pressing against her own with the bonelessness of the unconscious. Shifting, she struggled to sit up trying get her bearings. A dimly lit cave swam into view, nothing was familiar.

At least there were no invaders in view. Turning, she tried to discover what was wrong with Martin. Her hands began to shake when she saw his hair gleaming in the faint torch light. It had faded to a slate gray with silver streaks running through it in the course of a night.

She drew back appalled. "What have you done?" The cave echoed with her whispered question.

He had groaned and painfully sat up beside her. He smiled oblivious to her horror at his pain marked face and patted her hand reassuringly. "Power has its price my lady, and it is very unforgiving." he had held his hands up, examining the way they shook with weakness. "I temporarily traded some of my life force for magic." He shrugged and held out his hand to help her rise. "I will regain my lost strength in time. There would have had to be far more damage than this for it to be permanent."

He walked carefully over to a huge chest pushed against the cave wall, the slow deliberation of his movements telling her clearly that he felt the increased age all the way to his bones. The chest looked familiar. It nearly matched many that she had seen in the castle armory. Whatever or wherever this place was Torrin had a hand in its construction. Martin watched her careful examination of the area without comment, his face unreadable.

Something cold wrapped around her heart as she found sign after sign of Torrin’s direct hand in the organization of the boxes. He had never told her. No matter that they were bonded, he had not trusted her with this secret. Something within her died.

She turned her face to the wall, not wanting to share the moment with Martin. As she looked, she noticed there were odd marks covering the rough surface. A frown crossed her features as she studied them. The feeling of age was unmistakable. Here at least was a welcome distraction. The walls were covered with paintings, strange crude paintings that were impossibly alien. There were beasts the likes of which she had never seen; giant furry creatures sporting great tusks and long noses, odd, wild-looking cattle and strange deer. Even the dull colored horses looked wrong. They were drawn with stubby legs and heavy bodies with crossed hind feet and closely clipped manes.

She walked further down the wall and saw animals bristling with spears and stick figure men stalking them. Turning back to Martin she put voice to her thoughts. "What is this place?"

He smiled slightly and shrugged. "When Henry and I were small children we played often in the hills beyond the summer hunting lodge." She nodded her understanding of where he spoke. "One day we found a small cave, a hole in a small cliff really, too small to let a man through."

He smiled from the memory, "Henry was trough the hole faster than you could blink, I followed. We could barely make out the beginnings of the wall paintings." He frowned from a memory, " We rigged makeshift torches from fallen tree branches and went back into the cave exploring. They soon failed leaving us with out light."

Something dark and sorrowful crossed his face as she watched. "It was then, in my fear and desperation that the gifts of the One Hundred suddenly came to me. One moment we were in the dark afraid, and the next I had made a grove light from the fire within myself." He looked around in remembered awe, "The light revealed wondrous things. There were ancient bones of creatures we had never seen and paintings that took our breath away. We were too excited about our discoveries to think about what the light would mean to us both.�

Anya nodded. She had always wondered how Martin had known he was meant for the groves. So many of the ancient families had stopped their homage, she found it hard to believe that Torrin’s family had willingly given one of their two sons away, especially their eldest. Now she knew they had no choice.

Regret crossed his features. “When we emerged from the cave late that night I guided us home knowing that I would never your husband and that I would never be Duke." He sighed, "I chose to follow the old ways, to learn what else the earth held for me to discover. Torrin was acknowledged heir the following year. I took my oath of loyalty and surrendered my clanmark." His hand unconsciously brushed over his heart where his life-mark had been altered so many years before. She knew there was nothing but a glowing moon there now, a sign of the Groves’ claim upon him.

She nodded her understanding, her mind racing. Martin's tale had told her even more than he intended. They had not gone far, they were still within bond reach of Torrin. She sank down to the floor immediately without sparing a moment for an explanation to Martin. Gathering her focus, she cast her mind down the ties of the Ashivsa seeking him. He was alive.

A sob escaped her as she realized he was well, but tired and worried. Their bond was not enough to allow her to share his mind, but she could feel faint impressions of his thoughts and surroundings. He feared for someone else but most of his sensations were denied to her because of her own emotions. She let everything wash out of her, at this distance she needed to concentrate on Torrin to feel any part of him.

Her heart raced in fear as she felt the sudden rise of strain in him. He was fighting again, the singular focus of his mind and the cold fury of his emotions nearly shut her out, but she held on grimly. She had to know he was well. Carefully she slowly fed him her remaining strength trying not to distract his battle. Moments later she felt a hot surge of triumph flash through him followed by a drain in his strength that left her gasping. Time crawled as she held still within the bond, absorbing what she could from him. Worry and fear nearly overwhelmed in his mind until a wave of relief wash through him. There was no doubt in her mind Torrin had won free of the castle.

Opening her eyes in triumph, she started to breath a sigh of relief when a hot slice of agony stabbed into her back, tearing through her very soul. She was plunged once more into Torrin's emotions as they flickered wildly with his dying. There was one last caress of love on her mind and in her soul. He had known. He had known she was with him. A sob escaped her as all the warmth left her heart, leaving only ashes. He was gone.

She opened her eyes to a worried Martin bending over her hunched form. Without a word she took his belt knife from him and began to cut the marriage braids from her hair. Hers would now be the shorn locks of a widow. She couldn’t cry. Her world had been reduced to ashes, but she could not give vent to it all. There would be nothing left. She watched dry eyed as Martin collapsed, grieving for his lost brother. Her heart was dead within her, she was frozen into the necessity of the moment.

If it was not for the child growing within her she would have happily followed Torrin into the darkness that had beckoned so seductively. Her braids slid onto the floor as she rose to her feet. She ignored them, that part of her life was dead. Everything was gone. Shaking her head at her own despair, she tried to bring her thoughts in order, painfully aware she had been sitting far too long. She had to plan for their trip to the border, she had to care for the child growing in her belly. That at least she could do for Torrin.

Her hands trailed thoughtfully on the smooth edges of the chests lining the walls. There had to be things in the trunks they could use. A snort escaped her. They needed nearly everything, they were homeless, landless and without clan. There was no one left for them in the world. Except perhaps…

A new sense of purpose moved her as she threw open the chests that lined the cave. There was one place they could go, one place that might be safe from the soldiers of her brother and his allies. The first chest she went to was filled with clothes and boots that were agonizingly familiar, they were all Torrin's. She slammed it shut with a sob, there was nothing in there she could face.

The next chest was full of her clothes, some she had not seen in months. She pulled a soft velvet overgown out of the chest and pulled it on. It was far too cold in the cave to continue walking around in her night shift. She continued rummaging in the chest until she found some slippers for her bare feet, then she moved on to the next one. Inside there were blankets, weapons and a large portion of the treasury. The last confirmed the coldness of her heart, she could not even feel the pain of their distrust anymore.

She went to Martin, her hands spilling over with the Blackstone jewels. She held them out accusingly, "When did you know?" she asked her voice with emptiness.

Martin held up a restraining hand his face lined with sorrow. "It is not what you think, at least on Torrin’s part. He suspected what was happening a few months ago and ordered me to prepare a safe place for the family and treasury. He became suspicious of your brother’s actions. We have always known the High King was uncomfortable with our power. After Fergus came back from court it became apparent that the King had wooed him away from us.�

Anya nodded. It all made sense now that she allowed herself to think of it. The one thing that Fergus had craved above all others was legitimacy. It was the one thing their father had denied him. It would have been a perfect lure.

“As you know, Duke Henry and our father were brothers. Our neighboring duchies were tied were closer than most and our combined forces outnumber the King’s.� Martin sighed and scrubbed his face. “It has been coming for years. Ever since the first queen died. We just hoped we would have more time to prepare. By the time we knew it was upon us, you were pregnant. Torrin thought you had enough to worry you."

“And he did not want to risk me somehow telling my brother.� Anya added softly, knowing it was the truth.

Martin shook his head but did not bother to deny her words. He gestured to the small treasure laden chest. "It hardly matters now. Torrin had George and I move most of the treasury some months ago. We cleared an entrance to the cave when we first prepared the refuge and disguised it as best we could." He sighed shakily, tears glistening in his eyes. "George wanted to study the strange drawing on the cave wall when we had the time."

She nodded and left him to his grief, they both knew that his son was likely dead with Torrin. There was no room in her heart to grieve any more, she had too much work to do. Within the chests she found a set of her finest sewing needles and some fine threads. She carefully ripped out the seams of the plain cloaks and began sewing gold coins and jewelry into the hems. It was a task guaranteed to take hours and the designs would take a great deal of her attention without the sewing frames. Hours without thought seemed a true blessing. She set about her task determined to keep so busy she could not think about what she had lost.

It would take them time to plan. Staying hidden was their best hope now, if they could wait a little while the men that were undoubtedly searching for them would pass them by.

*******************************************************

A day and then two passed. Anya had to fight a growing restlessness, the winter was closing in fast around them and though it was tempting to stay in the shelter of the cave, the food stored in the trunks would not last. Even if there was enough food, they could not trust the cave would stay undiscovered. If the King was truly behind Fergus’ takeover, it was possible that one of the remaining Grove servants would be called in to search for them. Most were loyal only to the Groves and their King. Martin was one of the few she knew of to take an oath of loyalty to his family as well.

A grove servant could find them no matter how well she hid. Only the borders of Blue Lake would foil that kind of search. It was said that Duke Henry and his family remembered the old ways. The Groves would not sleep through any sort of invasive search. They were only a day's travel from Blackstone. The border of Blue Lake, Duke Henry's realm was nearly a week's travel away.

Another dark possibility haunted them both. It was entirely possible that George was captured. His fledgling powers would be no protection against the skill of a determined torturer. Even the strongest could be broken if enough skill and patience were applied, the king had proved that often enough in the past. George was not far enough in his training to will himself to die.

When the restlessness became too much, she explored the cave trying to discover its secrets. The enlarged entrance to the cave was well disguised and the bushes around it were almost impossibly thick. They provided the screening she needed to go out when life's little necessities occurred. At this stage of her pregnancy they seemed to happen every few moments.

She was just rounding the curve in the cave wall that sheltered them from chilling breezed and prying eyes when she heard the sound of galloping horses breaking through the snow. She pressed herself against the rocks and prayed for the sound to go away like all the others had done. Her prayers went unanswered. Instead the sounds of horses came closer until it sounded as if they were going to ride into the very cave. The sounds of the horses being pulled up echoed loudly in the still air. The soft panting of dogs came to her as the animals drew nearer. If they had brought hunting hounds there was no hope of escape.

A white muzzle poked through the bushes, followed quickly by the rest of the heavily built dog. She recognized Sokol, one of Torrin’s prized hounds. Whoever had thought to bring the dog knew she was here. They had made one miscalculation though, Sokol was trained to defend the family. They would not get her without a fight. Steeling herself for the fight to come she rounded the corner and collapsed to her knees as she was met with a vision of shear horror.

It was George, or what was left of him. She was not sure how she knew that for there was nothing left of him even his mother would recognize. Blood was dried and clotted in a mask that was once his face and his hands were a ruined mess. Even his clothes were rent and torn with strange lumps that spoke of hasty attempts to bandage his abused body.

The command that had Sokol guarding snapped out of her mouth before she could think. She moved to catch him as she slumped on the back of the mare. A part of her was praying that he was unconscious, but she knew better than to hope. He would not have been able to stay on the bare back of the mare if he allowed himself to slip to unconsciousness. From the tracks of blood on the mares back, he had stayed on the horses back for days. Only his gifts would have allowed him to stay undetected for so long.

Martin was beside her as George sagged, catching him before he could fall into her waiting arms. She tried not to hear the broken denials that rising from his throat.

She busied herself seeing to the horses, for George had brought more than one. He could not have obtained them himself, for they were all breeding mares. She detected Torrin‘s hand. Only he would have thought to take the precious mares. His family had been famed for breeding war horses for centuries. He would not have left the purest bloods of his line in her brother’s care. Torrin would have seen them dead first.

Fortunately even in their gravid state the mares were sure footed and well trained. Torrin had only bred mares proven in battle, they would be invaluable in the days to come. The mares were tired and hungry, they had not been allowed to stop in the days since Torrin freed them. She led them into the cave bedding them down as best as she was able. The grain sack was nearly empty by the time she finished feeding them, but they needed the strength. It would be critical in the days to come. The mares would carry the future on their backs.

She tried not to notice the muttering and choked cries coming from the back. She knew almost nothing of healing and had none of the healing gifts. Martin could see to George while she prepared for their flight and they would have to flee. It did not matter that George’s gifts had kept him from notice as he escaped. The gift would not cover his tracks and the hunters would soon find them. Their only hope was a swift retreat. The mares would not be able to go as fast as a normal horse burdened with what they could carry and their own growing foals, but perhaps luck would be on their side. It was a hope she dared not cling to.

******************************************************

A gust of wind brought her back to herself. Luck was a fickle thing indeed. The storm had started blowing in that night. They had set out immediately, knowing there would not be a better chance for them to leave the cave undetected. At first she had been grateful for the weather, the wind and snow had covered George’s trail better than she could have ever hoped, but it had not stopped there. The days had flowed together endlessly. Each night bleeding a little more strength from Martin as he gave endlessly of his own strength to his son and her own failing body. Even with all his sacrifice, she was not sure she could make it another night. Far from being a blessing, the weather was doing Fergus’ work for him.

Martin reached out to touch her cheek with icy hands. “Hold on, Anya. I will find a place for us.� She started to nod too tired to even speak, when her knees gave way under a new and crushing pain. “Anya!� Martin’s cry was harsh in her ears, but she was unable to respond as fresh pain arced up her spine turning her body into a crippling vise.

It eased after a moment. “The baby.� She gasped, knowing the explanation was unnecessary even as she spoke it. Martin’s arms were hard around her as he swung her up on an already overburdened mare. When she moved to protest he put up an imperious hand.

“The mare will last long enough to get us to the shelter we need. I thought we could go further, but it will have to do. No matter the risk.� He broke off, as if unwilling to say more.

Anya did not have the strength to protest. Her legs were screaming with pain and she could not catch her breath as another pain came, and then another. She lost track of time as the child struggled to be born in spite of its exhausted mother.