Black Rose (21 page)

           
He did not speak, but instead turned to assist his brother who was engaged in
his own fight a few feet to their right. She squared off with the new opponent,
again gripping her thick blade with both hands. Her attacker struck first,
moving his blade toward Mara’s left. She easily sidestepped the movement,
turning back with calm eyes. This time he moved in a downward stroke. Mara
raised her own sword to directly meet the movement, stopping the cutting edge
mere inches above her vulnerable form. She then moved quickly, slicing her
sword left and then right, favoring speed over strength. Her blade again lunged
to her opponent’s left side. He was slow to follow her movement and received a
deep slice to his left arm. 

           
She again swung left, this time with three strokes in quick succession, then
switched to his right. He was unprepared and her blade bit into his right side.
He cried out in pain, the sword faltering in his arm, when she spied Edward
from the corner of her eye. He had been disarmed by his opponent and now stood
at the mercy of Jayden’ silver blade.

           
The sight made Mara’s blood run cold. She rushed forward, abandoning her
current opponent in what amounted to a mad dash across the stone floor. But it
was too late as Jayden moved the edge of his blade to the side of Edward’s
throat and turned to face Mara, who froze as she met his gaze.

           
“I am going to ask you a question, Captain.” Mara took a moment of silence
before giving a single, steady nod but was unable to slow the frantic beat of
her heart.

           
“What is he to you?” Jayden nodded towards the man he held captive. “What,
exactly, is Edward to you, the Captain of the Black Rose? Answer quickly.”

           
She forced herself to meet his gaze and went for truth. “My everything. The
other half of my soul. Please, Jayden, take me if you must, but…let Edward go.”

           
“You love him,” Jayden stated, through whether for clarification or repetition,
Mara was uncertain.

           
“All my life.”

           
“He was the one you rejected the King for. The one you let Phillip die for; and
killed the young Prince.”

           
“Yes,” she answered. “Yes.”

           
Jayden continued to stare before finally stating, “It’s true, isn’t it? You
would really trade your life for his.”

           
“Without hesitation,” she replied in a voice mixed with fear. “Is that what you
want, Jayden? My life for his, here I am—take it. Please, take my life. Just
don’t…don’t do this. I can’t survive it.”

           
Jayden cut his gaze to Edward and then back to Mara. “So it is all true. The
lost Princess, the forbidden love, the Queen’s vengeance. All the stories
whispered on a dark night, are true.” Mara gave him open eyes and it was all
the confirmation he needed. “My Gods.”

           
“Please, my Lord. My life for his.”

           
Jayden drew another breath and then, to the surprise of both Captains, lowered
his sword. “I am not worthy to kill the Captain of the Black Rose nor to take
that of the man she gave her life to protect.”

           
Her heart still pounding far too fast, Mara gave a nod and was careful to avoid
Edward’s eyes as she addressed Jayden. “Are you here to take the oath of the
Rose? Or will you return to your King?”

           
“My oath lies with Mathew, my Lady. I was sent after you, but have been deemed
unworthy. I shall return to face the King with news of our defeat.”

           
“Then go, my Lord. With my thanks, but…not my mercy.” Jayden gave a single nod
before turning to leave the castle grounds. 

Mara
turned to survey the damage surrounding her. Nolan stood in the far corner
appearing exhausted but physically unharmed. Brian and Aiden were standing to
her left, blood dripping from Aiden’s forearm. Her eyes continued to search the
room, a sense of relief beginning to settle upon her. Then she caught sight of
Garreth.

           
He was kneeling on the floor, his blond hair matted against his forehead.
Brendan was lying at his feet in a pool of blood. Mara blinked several times,
wondering if this was another flashback. Then, realizing it was not, she rushed
forward, crossing the room in a few quick strides. She hit her knees on the
opposite side of Garreth and leaned forward to assess his injuries. There were
two large gashes in his chest, one on each side. His breathing came in a faint
wheeze, the damaged lungs unable to breathe as his blood continued to stain the
floor.

           
“It will be all right,” Mara assured the man who had fought by her side for
more than half a millennium. “We will take you upstairs and it will all be…”

           
Her words faded as she caught sight of Garreth’s face. It should have been
flushed from the exertions of the fight, but was instead white, as though the
color had been drained from his cheeks.  His eyes were wide. 
Something in them sent a chill through Mara. “Garreth, what is it?”

           
He looked at her as though startled by the question. “Mara,” he began in a
timid voice.

           
“What is it?” she asked again, but was distracted by Edward, who appeared
beside her holding out a relatively clean shirt. “I sent Nolan for bandages,
but until then, use this.” She took the shirt gratefully and pressed the dark
cloth down upon the open wound.

           
“Mara,” Garreth’s voice again interrupted her as Edward moved to Brendan’s
other side.

           
“What?” she demanded. “What the hell do you want?”

           
“It was an Arius blade, Mara.”

           
She gazed at him slowly, her brain refusing to comprehend the meaning behind
his words. “The King would never have given them an Arius blade.”

           
“He took it from Regald,” Garreth replied in a hushed voice. “When we
surrendered our swords.”

           
She stared at her cousin with an air of defiance. “We were in the middle of a
fight, Garreth. Everything happened so fast…” Her eyes searched the room,
though for what, she was uncertain. Then she returned her gaze to Garreth’s.
“How the hell do you know what blade he used? How dare you!”

           
“Mara,” Garreth again said her name, this time with more conviction. “It was
Regald’s blade.”

           
Mara’s gaze again travelled to where her Sub-Captain lay. The cloth Edward had
managed to tie around the injuries were now red with blood. She touched her
fingers to Brendan’s neck and listened for his heartbeat—it was erratic and
began to slow under her touch. “Brendan,” she said, unable to hide the
disbelief which seeped into her voice. She moved her hand to cup the right side
of his face. His eyes closed at her touch, then opened again slowly. She saw
fear in those deep brown eyes along with a look she knew all too well. He was
dying.

           
Mara’s teeth bit into her lower lip as she forced herself to draw several deep,
slow breaths. Then she unclenched her jaw, tasting blood from where her teeth
had pierced the tender flesh of her lip. Nolan had arrived and was now
assisting Edward in his attempts to slow the bleeding. Mara drew another breath
and quickly glanced around the room until her eyes came across Brendan’s sword
which lay slightly to her right. She reached across the floor and picked up the
ancient blade before turning to Edward. She wondered for a moment if he would
challenge her, but instead bowed his head and slid back from Brendan’s injured
form. Mara then turned to where Nolan knelt across from her.

           
“Nolan,” she said gently. “You can stop now.”

           
He turned towards her with a look that lacked understanding. “But we have to
stop the bleeding.”

           
“Nolan,” she said again. “It’s time to stop.”

           
He looked at her with a confused expression. “But, he’ll die.”

           
A slight tremor ran up Mara’s body, but she did not lower her gaze from the
young man kneeling beside her in a pool of Brendan’s blood. Then, Garreth moved
to Nolan, and placed a hand upon the younger man’s arms, gently pulling him
away.

           
Mara took the thick, silver blade and placed it upon Brendan’s chest, then
moved his left hand to the hilt, while taking his right into her own. She
leaned down and kissed the hand which clutched the blade before turning to
stare into his brown eyes. “It was an honor,” she said quietly, though her
voice carried like a scream in the silence of the room. His eyes said what he
could not speak. “I know it hurts,” she told him gently, then drew another deep
breath. 

“There
is a young woman who walks along the edge of the sea, soft waves foaming at her
feet. Her eyes are violet, her smile gentle and her laughter—the sound of
angels.” Mara offered a false smile that she had given far too many times. “She
is waiting on you, my Lord. Go to her and be at peace.”

           
A few moments later, Brendan stopped breathing. Mara reached forward and gently
closed his eyes before leaning down and kissing his brow. “May the order of the
Black Rose protect you in life, and avenge you in death,” she said, speaking
the ancient words before slowly rising from the dark stone floor.

She
scanned the room, finding her desired object lying just a few feet away. Walking
slowly across the floor, Mara knelt down and grasped the hilt of Regald’s Arius
blade. She turned and walked to where Viktor lay, his chest exposed in a
similar fashion to Brendan’s. Without hesitating or speaking, Mara raised the
blade and sank it deep in the center of Viktor’s still beating heart. He gasped
as the blade slid home then began to gurgle as he choked on his own blood. Mara
gave the blade a violent twist before removing the ancient blade from the dead
man’s chest. She turned, and without speaking a word, handed the blade back to
the Arum Court Captain before ascending the main staircase, leaving the room in
silence.

           
Mara stood under the scalding water as the last of Brendan’s blood poured from
her thick hair to cascade down her body before sliding across the white tiled
floor and vanishing down the drain. The blood at her feet made her queasy and
she was forced to steady herself against the wall. The fear that had flashed
through Brendan’s brown eyes as he lay dying upon the cold, stone floor would
remain with her until the day someone closed her own. It was exactly the way he
had looked during their first encounter, nearly nine hundred years earlier.

           
She had been sitting in her room, speaking with Garreth, when she was
interrupted by a loud knock. She moved to rise from her chair, but the door
flew open before she could even call for the person on the other side to come
in. “My Lady, My Lord,” stated a young guard who immediately flew to one knee
before the two Sub-Captains.

           
“What is it?” Mara asked, rising quickly to her feet.

           
“My Lady. It’s Andrew and Brendan, two of the recruits who joined the guard in
the last initiation. They had been assigned to the guard detail for Lord
Bersid, who was called in to see the Queen this morning. Brendan, he…”

           
“Stand up, Raymond,” she instructed the younger man. “Take a breath and tell us
what happened.”

           
He stood quickly, brushing his coat as he did so. “I am unsure of all the
circumstances which lead to…”

           
“Just cut to the point.”

           
“The Queen was angry with the lord and somehow, I’m still not sure, her anger
fell upon Jon. Brendan spoke in his defense and the Queen…” Mara’s heart began
to sink. “She has ordered them both to the torture chambers, ordering Brendan’s
punishment to be carried out by Jon’s own hand.”

Mara
shook her head. “In other ways, she has found a way to punish them both; one for
contradicting the Queen and the other for defending him.” She gave a deep sigh.
“And you expect me to do what, exactly?”

“I,”
he began, stumbling. “I don’t know, my Lady. I was just told to come to you.”

She
paused, silently exploring her options, but arriving at no answers. “Raymond,”
she said, “take us to the chambers the Queen sent them to. Quickly.”

Raymond
led Mara and Garreth from the room and rushed down a series of hallways and
stairwells, diving into one of the deepest parts of the castle grounds. They
eventually emerged into a large, dimly lit room of dark stone. In the center of
the room was a black stone table upon which Brendan lay. His arms were chained
to either side, binding him tightly to the stone. His shirt had been stripped
away, exposing his flesh to the waiting punishment.

A
few feet from him stood another young guard with short brown hair and olive
skin. Clutched in Jon’s hand was a long black whip. Jon looked up as the two
new visitors entered the room, but turned back towards Brendan when neither of
the newcomers spoke. Mara’s mind continued to race through her options,
attempting to determine anything that could stop what was about to happen.
Contradicting orders given directly from the Queen was out of the question. She
exchanged a glance with Garreth, who looked as helpless as she felt. Her eyes
again traveled to the bound man. Brendan was only in his late thirties, barely
an adult by immortal standards.