Some distance away to the south, a distance that unknown to them would take a fortnight to travel; the rain fell outside the dim glow in the den outside the Sheriff's private chambers. He sat awake, sipping brandy virtually in the dark. The glowing embers of the receeding fire offered little in the way of light, or warmth, but he was oblivious. He sat on the very couch his lady had been seated some months prior.
He awoke just before dawn that day. He remembered finally giving in to fatigue after hours of exhausting sex. He finally succumbed in a state of bliss. His world came crashing back to reality right before the sun peaks her head awake on the horizon. That was when he knew. He was alone. He found her gown neatly draped over the back of a chair at the foot of his bed. The only thing missing was the white diaphanous gown she wore beneath her gown. He dressed and started off to find her. He knew she had to be near. After searching though several empty rooms, he found his way to the door that lead outside into the garden. Where he had first kissed her. He pulled his cloak closer about his shoulders and ventured out into the pelting rain that fell that fateful night. The one that changed his life in two opposing ways. In the distance he saw a white rose on the ground by the garden wall. He started toward it. Despite the accumulation of water on the ground, he saw it beside the flower. First an unidentifiable white object. As he got near he bent down to get a closer look. It was a cloth of some sort. A large swatch of fabric, embroidered in white silk. It dawned on him, it was torn from her missing gown! He reached down to pick it up. As is to preserve proof she was in danger, under the fabric were splotches of blood.
He froze. His mouth went dry as he suddenly could feel his heart sinking. He knew then with absolute certainty that his lady Rhiannon did not leave willingly. She had no family. Who would look to find her? Nobody knew he had spent nearly the last 24 hrs with her. The hairs stood on the back of his neck. The cold realization came over him like a cold black shadow. Her captor knew this. He must've been watching her! The horror overtook him and he fell to his knees in the rain, oblivious to being soaked through his garments. He held that swatch of white fabric to his forehead. Then he knew. Not only did he love her, he knew he must find her. She was the woman he spent his life dreaming of but thought didn't exist. It was then, in that powerless moment he vowed to go to the ends of the earth to find her.
And now, sipping his brandy, alone in the dark with the company of only the rain and his memory he was ready to uphold that vow. His top investigator completed a preliminary investigation and handed the Sheriff the scrolls of documents only hours earlier. After a thorough sweep of the land, the lady's home, and questioning of her servant Rebeccah, and friends; it was clear that Lady Rhiannon hadn't been seen since the morning before when she left for Sunday Worship. It was obvious, the very last person to see her prior to whatever happened was he himself! He wouldn't allow himself to consider the worst outcome. He had to believe she was being kept alive. He tried to suppress the growing worry as the days passed.
Through another door in the den outside of the Sheriff's private chambers there was another entranceway that led downwards in a clockwise spiral to Mortianna's lair. She rang the bell for her lord Sheriff, knowing she would not disturb his sleep.
Within minutes he stood before her. "You call me in the dead of night Madam?" he asked rather abruptly.
"Yes, because I know you do not sleep."
He raised his eyebrow and fixed his steely gaze demanding an answer.
"I was outside walking because I too could not sleep. I saw the dim glow from your quarters. I've known a long time something vexes thee. Now it has been revealed. I see what causes thee to pace in the darkest corners of night. What shadows thee by day." She let the words hang there before she continued. He was hard pressed hiding his annoyance. She started to speak again, right when he was about to express it.
"I can see her my Lord. I see your Lady." A beat. "She is alive."
His eyes widened. He'd never uttered a word about lady Rhiannon to a soul, except to Guy and to Duke Farnsworth, his lead investigator. He knew Mortianna was genuine.
"Tell me…" he pleaded as he grasped the witch's shoulders. "Where is she? Who has her?"
She broke free and sat at a table nearby. There was a cracked stone cup with wet tea leaves lying in patters along the bottom placed in the center of the table.
"I see a dark room. Stone walls with a small bed." She squinted and picked up the cup. The Sheriff fidgeted seated across from her.
" A lady sits on the bed. A beautiful lady, with sunlight streaming from her hair. She sits alone. She is pale, weakened. She no longer cares to live, but she chooses to – because of you."
"My lady" he softly cried out.
"She is alive, my Lord. Her love is true. But….there is something else. I'm not that certain…." Her words became distant as she focused.
"What is it?" he pleaded.
"She is not well. I do not know what causes it, but she collapses often. Faints. She is weak, yet too unwell to eat. There's something wrong my Lord Sheriff."
"I need to find her. Tell me Mortianna…..Can I get to her in time?"
"It's unclear the quantity of time remaining for you and your lady together. But, know this: your destinies interlock in some way."
The crone! She always spoke in riddles. He had little patience for this now.
"What do you mean, Madam? Marriage?"
"It is not yet revealed my child. All I can tell you is this – she is the lady you've been searching for. But you'll have to search to find her. That is your task. You've been preparing for this. But…hmmm….." she paused as she held the stone cup closer to her, squinting in the faint light from the candle that had been burning too long on a nearby mantle, pooling wax at it's base.
"What is it? What do you see?" he demanded. He knew by the expression on her face she bore ill tidings.
"There is a man. A dark menacing man, my Lord. He is the most evil in all of England. He is the one you seek – for the twenty seven maids in this and two other counties who mysteriously disappeared these last two and a half years."
"Good." The Sheriff replied. Not understanding that the two visions Mortianna had seen were not two, but related because they were just one. "Let me know where that bastard is, and I'll deal with him after I find my lady. Now, for pity's sake woman! Tell me where my lady waits! Where is she held prisoner?"
She looked up from the cup and placed it back on the table. Her face softened as she locked her eyes on his. Reaching across the table she placed one gnarled hand on his arm. The Sheriff squinted looking down at her hand, then found her eyes with his. Puzzled, he started to speak, but was interrupted before he could begin.
"My lord. This man is the one who holds your lady prisoner."
He got up from the table, spun around, and paced a few moments. Then he flew back to where she sit, leaning down on the table to meet her eyes, and said "But she is alive! Tell me where she is. We'll find her. We'll find them all, me and my men. Finally I'll have joyous news for twenty seven families!"
Mortianna lowered her gaze and shook her head while she replied softly "No my child. Those twenty seven maids are dead. His crimes are unspeakable. The maids were kept prisoner for a time. I do not know how long. He killed them in cold blood. They lie buried not far from the terrible place he holds them." The words trailed off in a distance, like the ghosts they spoke of.
The Sheriff sat back down. He felt sick. He grabbed the edges of the table, bent his head down, then slowly raised it. His eyes blazed with rage and determination. He finally got his will back, Mortianna thought.
"Where is she?" was all he said in a low whisper.
"She is being held captive in an abandoned castle. Some 200 miles in the distance, north east."
"We leave tomorrow." He replied as he got up to leave. As he exited the door, Mortianna looked again at the tea leaves in the cracked stoneware cup. She squinted into it again, seeing something she hadn't before.
"Hurry my Lord." She whispered out loud. "She gives you a child."
