Devil's Dominion (55 page)

But that didn’t stop Effington. She followed Rod into the hall as well and, on a warm August night of the next year, after a serious adventure of their own, Rod and Effington celebrated their own marriage in Pelinom’s keep the same day as Allaston gave birth to a big, healthy boy at Belford Castle.

Young Gareth de Llion brought the world of The Dark Lord and the dominion of the Devil together in a way none of them could have ever imagined.

Jax wept that day. And so did Bretton.

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THE END

Kathryn Le Veque is a prolific, multi-published, #1 bestselling author of Medieval Historical Romance. Kathryn is an Amazon All-Star author and in August 2014, she was the 52
nd
most read author on Amazon. With 52 published novels, Kathryn is one of the top authors in her genre.

DEVIL’S DOMINION was a very complex tale involving a hero with a lot of emotional baggage.  Robbed of the life he knew, Bretton had to struggle to survive – literally.  Allaston could have felt disgust towards him, but she really never did – she came to understand the man was a survivor and doing what he did was really all he ever knew. He’d forgotten that the world could be kind. But when he started to realize that there were nice people in the world, people – like Allaston – who were willing to help him and show him compassion, that’s when things started to change for him even though he really bucked against it. As he told Allaston, he wasn’t sure he could change from what he’d become.  But she didn’t give up on him.

Did he change over too dramatically in the end? Not really when you think about it. Things had been building towards that for 2/3rds of the book, and when John Morgan was presented to him, it was like all of his hatred and vengeance left him. There was no longer any reason to be angry at the world. Sure, he’d been screwed over when he was younger, but Allaston was more than willing to make up for that. She felt a lot of pity for the man, which made her very torn because the guy was out to kill her father.

Speaking of Allaston, how
could
she love a man who was sworn to kill her father? Maybe because she saw something in him others didn’t.  She saw hope. He’d given her little clues about it – not killing her right off the bat, showing her some kindness after he’d abducted her, things of that nature. She knew there was something in him that wasn’t all killer.

And what about Jax and Christopher making major appearances in this novel? It was a lot of fun bringing Jax back in and, surprise! – he had been living a peaceful life as of late. No more brutal warlord!  The discussions between Jax and Christopher were some of the best, in any Le Veque novel.  As for Rod, now he has to get his own story with Effington de Velt as his lady-love. It’s going to be a good one!

Finally, to be clear, there wasn’t much mention of Grayton after he remained behind at Comen, mostly because he wasn’t around at Cloryn Castle at the end.  He kind of started the revolt against Bretton but Teague finished it.  You can bet that, at some point, Bretton and Jax returned to Comen Castle and subdued Grayton.  Same goes for Olivier at Rhayder Castle, although Olivier did not have a big role in this book.

As it has been mentioned before, this book was complex and it is hoped that you sincerely enjoyed it.  Find all Kathryn’s novels on Amazon, and a few at ibooks, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords.

Now, enjoy a few bonus chapters to follow!

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‘Doomsman of Deeds and dreadful Lord, -- Woe for that man
who in harm and hatred hales his soul to fiery embraces’

- Beowulf, Chapter II

CHAPTER ONE

May, 1180 AD

Scots Borderlands, England

He had her by the hair; strands of spun gold clutched in the dirty mailed glove.  Perhaps it was because she had tried to bite him and he did not want to chance another encounter with her sharp white teeth. Or perhaps it was because he was a brute of a man, sworn to Ajax de Velt and knowing little else but inflicting terror. Whatever the case, he had her tightly.  She was trapped.

The woman and her father were on their knees in great hall of the keep that had once belonged to them.  Now it was their prison as enemy soldiers overran the place.  There were memories of warmth and laughter embedded in the old stone walls, now erased by the terror that filled the room.

Pelinom Castle had been breached before midnight when de Velt’s army had tunneled under the northeast tower of the wall, causing it to collapse. The woman and her father had tried to escape, along with the populace of their castle, but de Velt’s men had swarmed them like locusts.  It was over before it began.

Around her, the woman could hear the cries of her people as de Velt’s men ensnared them.  She had been captured by an enormous knight with blood splashed on his plate armor and she had understandably panicked. Even now, trapped against the floor of the great hall, she was panicked and terrified. Tales of de Velt’s atrocities were well known in the lawless north of England, for it was a dark and lawless time.  She knew they were about to enter Hell.

From the corner of her eye, she could see her father on his knees.  Sir Keats Coleby was a proud man and he had resisted the invasion gallantly.  Why he hadn’t been outright killed, as the garrison commander, was a mystery.  But he was well-bloodied for his efforts.   The woman couldn’t see his face and she fixed her gaze back to the floor where the knight held her head.  He very nearly had her nose pushed into the stone.

There was a great deal of activity around them.  She could hear men shouting orders as the screams of her people eventually faded.  Horror consumed her, knowing that de Velt’s men were more than likely doing unspeakable things to her servants and soldiers.  Tears stung her eyes but she fought them.  She wondered what horrors de Velt had planned for her and her father.

She didn’t have long to wait. With her face nearly pressed to the stone, she heard a deep, rumbling voice.

“Your name, knight.”

The woman’s father answered without hesitation. “Sir Keats Coleby.”

“You are commander of Pelinom, are you not?”

“I am.”

“And the girl?”

“My daughter, the Lady Kellington.”

The silence that filled the air was full of anxiety.  Kellington could hear boot falls all around her, though it was difficult to see just how many men were surrounding them.  It felt like the entire army.

“Release her,” she heard the voice say.

Immediately, the hand in her hair was removed and she stiffly lifted her head. Several unfriendly faces were glaring down at her, some from behind raised visors, some from helmless men.  There were six in all, three knights and at least three soldiers. There could have been more standing behind her that she did not see, but for now, six was enough.

Kellington’s heart was pounding loudly in her ears as she looked around, waiting for the coming confrontation.  The knight to her right spoke.

“How old are you, girl?”

She swallowed; her mouth was so dry that there was nothing to swallow and she ended up choking. “I have seen eighteen years, my lord.”

The knight shifted on his big legs and move d in front of her; Kellington’s golden-brown eyes dared to gaze up at him, noting a rather youngish warrior with a few days growth of beard and close-shorn blond hair.   He didn’t look as frightening as she had imagined, but she knew if the man was sworn to de Velt, then he must be horrible indeed.

“Does your husband serve Pelinom?” he asked, his deep voice somewhat quieter.

“I am not married, my lord.”

The knight glanced over at Keats, who met his gaze steadily.  Then he turned his back on them both, leaving them to stew in fear. Kellington watched him closely, struggling to keep her composure.  She wasn’t a flighty woman by nature, but panic was the only option at the moment.

“Are there any others of the ruling house here?” the knight paused and turned to look at them.  “Only the garrison commander and his daughter? No sons, no husband, no brothers?”

Keats shook his head. “Just my daughter and I.”

He deliberately left out ‘my lord’.  If it bothered the knight, he did not show it.  Instead, he turned his focus to the gallery above, the ceiling and the walls.  Pelinom was a small but rich and strategically desirable castle and he was pleased that they had managed to capture her relatively intact.  The chorus of screams that had been prevalent since the army breached the bailey suddenly picked up again, but the knight pretended not to notice.  He returned his focus to Keats.

“If you are lying to me, know that it will only harm you in the end,” he said in a low voice.  “The only class spared at this time is the ruling house.  All others are put to death, so you may as well confess before we kill someone who is important to you.”

Keats didn’t react but Kellington’s eyes widened.  She had never been a prisoner before and had no idea of the etiquette or behaviors involved.  Living a rather isolated existence at Pelinom for most of her life, it had left her protected for the most part.  This siege, this horror, was new and raw.

“What does that mean?” she demanded before she could stop her tongue. “It is only my father and I, but my father has knights who serve him and we have servants who live here and…”

The knight flicked his eyes in her direction. “You will no longer concern yourself over them.”

She leapt to her feet. “My lord, please,” she breathed, her lovely face etched with anguish. “My father’s knight and friend is Sir Trevan.  He was with us when you captured us, but now I do not see him.  Please do not harm him. He has a new infant and.…”

“The weak and small are the first to be put to the blade.  They are a waste of food and space within a military encampment.”

Kellington’s eyes grew wider, tears constricting her throat.  Her hands flew to her mouth. “You cannot,” she whispered. “Sir Trevan and his wife waited years for their son to be born.  He is so small and helpless. Surely you cannot harm him.  Please; I beseech you.”

The knight lifted an eyebrow at her.  Then he glanced at the other knights and soldiers standing around them; they were all de Velt men, born and bred to war.  All they knew was death, destruction and greed.  There was little room for compassion.  He looked to Keats once more.

“Explain to your daughter the way of things,” he turned away from them, seemingly pensive.  “I will listen to what you tell her.”

Keats sighed heavily, his gaze finding his only child.  Though a woman grown she was, in fact, hardly taller than a child. But her short stature did nothing to detract from a deliciously womanly figure that had come upon her at an early age. Keats had seen man after man take a second look at his petite daughter, investigating the golden hair and face of an angel.  He was frankly surprised that the de Velt men hadn’t taken her for sport yet, for she was truly a gorgeous little thing. He was dreading it, knowing it was only a matter of time and there was nothing on earth he could do to stop them.  The thought made him ill.

“Kelli,” he said softly. “I know that you do not understand since you have never seen a battle, but this is war. There are no rules. The victor will do as he pleases and we, as his prisoners, must obey.”

“He will kill a baby?” she fired back. “That is unthinkable; it’s madness. Why must they kill the child? He’s done nothing!”

“But he could grow up to do something,” Keats tried to keep her calm. “Do you remember your Bible? Remember how the Pharaoh killed all of the first born males of Israel, afraid that one of them would grow up to be the man prophesized to overthrow him? ‘Tis the same with war, lamb chop.  The enemy does not see man, woman or child.  He only sees a potential killer.”

“You understand well the concept of destruction.”

They all turned to the sound of the voice; a deep, booming tone that rattled the very walls. Keats had the first reaction all evening, his brown eyes widening for a split second before fading.  Kellington stared at the man who had just entered the great hall as all of the other men around her seemed to straighten.  Even the knight who had been doing the questioning moved forward quickly to greet the latest arrival.

“My lord,” he said evenly. “This is Sir Keats Coleby, garrison commander of Pelinom, and his daughter the Lady Kellington.  They claim that they are the only two members of the ruling house.”

The man who stood in the entrance to the great hall was covered in mail, plate protection and gore.  He still wore his helm, a massive thing with horns that jutted out of the crown.  He was easily a head taller than even the tallest man in the room and his hands were as large as trenchers.  The man’s enormity was an understatement; he was colossal.

He radiated everything evil that had ever walked upon the earth.  Kellington felt it from where she stood and her heart began to pound painfully.  She resisted the urge to run to her father for protection, for she knew that no mortal could give protection against this.  The very air of the great hall changed the moment the enormous man entered it.  It pressed against her like a weight.