Keeper of the Black Stones (35 page)

“My Lord?” the Bishop asked.

“Get out!” he snapped. “I have no further use for you.”

The Bishop took one last look at the bloody corpse lying on the cold stone floor, and turned to flee the chamber in horror.

Dresden glanced up to make sure that the man left, and saw his son standing in the doorway. Sloan Dresden had has father's dark eyes, but that was where the resemblance ended. The boy was almost 6 feet tall, and
had rich brown hair, which hung just below his shoulders. His square jaw gave him an air of power, while his shoulders and chest were broad enough to promise physical strength, his forearms well defined and muscular. He looked much older than his sixteen years would suggest.

He was also very obviously distressed at the corpse lying on the floor.

Dresden walked toward his son and stopped in front of him, raising his hand to grasp the boy's shoulder. “Why so shocked, son?” he asked coldly. The boy should not look so upset about the death of someone who had not mattered in life.

Sloan shook his head, confused. “Why kill him? What purpose did that serve, Father, except to make the Bishop dislike you even more?”

Dresden smirked. “Have you heard of the Prince of Wallachia? Ruler of Hungary? Vlad the Impaler?”

Sloan shook his head, his eyes growing cold and withdrawn.

Dresden shook himself mentally. Of course the boy wouldn't have heard of Vlad. That situation must be going on right now, he thought, rather than in ancient history, as he knew it. No amount of money spent on an education would have taught his son such things.

“He was an immensely successful count in Hungary, and ruled successfully for many years. And do you know how he did it?”

Sloan shook his head again, his expression unchanging.

“Killing meant nothing to him, son. He cared very little for human life, and eliminated anyone who dared stand in his way. Without conscience. We must take an example from him, my boy. These people that surround us are mere shadows. You must not think of them as human, but as cattle. They are nothing compared to us. Their deaths do not matter.”

Dresden paused for a moment, allowing that to sink in, then squeezed his son's shoulder to get his attention. “Now, I have a mission for you.”

Sloan took a deep breath and looked down for a moment. When he looked back up, his face was flat and emotionless, though something lurked
in his eyes. Dresden paused for a moment. He hadn't expected to test the boy's mettle so soon, and wondered fleetingly whether his son was ready. Still, he couldn't take the trip himself, and had no more trustworthy soldier.

“You heard what the Bishop said about these strangers. It is imperative that we find them. Take your best men and follow the road from Doncaster to Bosworth.”

The boy frowned in protest. “But Fa–”

“Don't question me, boy!” Dresden barked. “Take the road south, search every village, every farm, every hedge! These people
must
be found, do you understand me?”

Sloan nodded wordlessly, his lips pressed together in anger.

Dresden sighed. He had high hopes for the boy, but his son questioned his orders more often than he liked. “You heard the Bishop's description?” Another nod from the boy. “Find them, and bring them to me. If they are who I think they are…” Dresden paused. If they were who he thought they were, that made them minions of Richard Evans'. And that made them dangerous. There was only one way to deal with such people, though he didn't think his son was up to it. “Take Lawrence and his men with you, and use whatever force necessary, but bring them to me alive.”

“And if they
aren't
who you believe they are?” Sloan asked, raising his chin.

Dresden's hand flew out, striking Sloan across the cheek and knocking the boy to the ground. “Mind your place, boy,” he thundered. “They
are
who I believe them to be, make no mistake.” He closed his eyes briefly and tried to control his anger. “I will only be a day's ride behind you. King Richard will meet me at Lord Bryer's estate in Nottingham tomorrow evening, to confirm our plans for the coming battle. Bring the strangers to me there.” He watched as Sloan scrambled to his feet, and held out a hand to stop the boy.

“Do not fail me in this, son. Do not interrogate the strangers, and bring them to me alive. Meet me in Nottingham in two days, with these strangers, or it will mean your life. Do not doubt me in this. Do you understand?”

Sloan narrowed his eyes with hatred, but did not answer. He turned and stormed out the door, shouting for his horse and men, and leaving Dresden alone in the sumptuous room.

Dresden sighed, watching his son leave, and began to count the days left until the battle. If these strangers proved to be hard to find, and meant to make trouble…

25

I
crouched low over the galloping horse, bringing my chest to within inches of its neck, and urged it to move faster. This also made my back a smaller target. I hoped. Looking to the side, I saw Tatiana doing the same, her face dangerously angry. The others were close behind us, their horses breathing heavily.

It had all seemed so simple when Reis explained the plan. He'd started outlining it as soon as we got out of the cart at the inn. The idea had been simple and straightforward; as long as things went the way he thought they would, everything would be fine.

As long as things went the way he thought they would. I should have known we were in trouble as soon as he'd said the words.

It had been agreed that Katherine would do the talking, and the rest of us would keep quiet. We'd already been in the inn's stable yard, which stood some distance from the inn itself. At least a dozen horses had been tied to the posts outside the stables. They'd been decked out in blankets, saddles, and bridles, practically begging for riders.

Katherine had dealt quickly with the boys who came racing around, telling them that we would be staying the night, and sending them off to ready our rooms. As soon as they disappeared, the rest of us had sprung into action, grabbing our bags and racing toward the closest horses. Tatiana and Katherine had mounted first, followed by Reis, Paul, and me. We'd been galloping toward the gate in no time.

Before we'd turned the corner and left the yard, though, the door of the inn had cracked open. Low, guttural voices had sounded through the
opening, followed by shouts of alarm. We'd been too late.

As it turned out, the horses we'd chosen had belonged to a group of soldiers. And well-armed soldiers, at that. They'd been chasing us for the last twenty minutes or so. The last shout I'd heard behind us was for the men to ready their bows.

Suddenly Paul pulled abreast of Tatiana and me, breathing heavily through his mouth. He looked like he'd been through a war.

“Can you see them?” I shouted, hoping he'd looked more recently than I had.

For a moment he didn't respond, making me wonder if he'd heard me at all. Finally he turned slightly to glance behind us.

“Yeah, just over the ridge, maybe 50 feet out,” he shouted, bending farther forward.

Reis caught up to us now, along with Katherine, their faces smeared with dust and sweat. Our horses were tiring quickly, and I could feel that they were beginning to slow. We needed to come up with a plan soon, or we'd be caught. How much longer would Reis run, before he decided to fight it out? Could he do it? Would he even have time to draw his weapons? We had surprised the Danes earlier in the day, but I didn't think it would work again. Were these men chasing us because of Reis and his guns? Would it even matter? We knew they had long bows; several arrows had raced past us before we'd had a chance to reach the road.

“They're gaining on us,” Paul growled, bringing me back to the present. “We don't have much time!”

Suddenly a small wooden bridge appeared before us, blocking our path. Beyond the bridge was a dramatic fork in the road. One road led downstream, into the fields and valleys there. The other led directly into the forest in front of us.

Reis pulled to a quick stop, glancing at first one road and then the other. We paused restlessly, watching him.

“We don't have time for this!” Tatiana screamed, looking back at us. “They're right on our
tails!
”

Reis ignored her outburst and stood up in his stirrups, judging the road in front of us and the ravine under the bridge.

“Reis, we've got to
go!
” Tatiana implored. “Are you suicidal?”

“Wait!” Reis demanded, finally looking over at Tatiana. “Dismount, grab your horses' reins, and follow me. Quickly!”

Tatiana's face showed utter dismay at his announcement, but to her credit, she did as she was told. Without explanation, Reis led us hurriedly into the ravine and under the bridge. The structure was just large enough to hide us all from view.

“What are we doing?” I whispered. “
Hiding?
Under a
bridge?
”

Reis held up a hand for silence. “They're going to be here in a matter of seconds, so I'm only explaining this once,” he snapped. “The road that forks to the left can be seen for miles without obstruction. They'll take a brief look and see rather quickly that we didn't go that way, which will prompt them to follow the road into the forest. Once they do, we'll take the road less traveled, so to speak, which, according to my compass, is the road we need to take regardless.”

“And if they figure out we're hiding out down here?” Paul asked.

Reis turned his back on Paul without answering, reaching into his carrying case and retrieving his assault rifle. “Then we do it the hard way,” he answered, releasing the rifle's safety.

Then we heard them, thundering up the road. We reached out and grabbed the reins of our horses, hoping our newly acquired animals would remain relatively quiet. The iron horse shoes of the soldiers' mounts moved onto the bridge over us, and came to a deafening halt in the center. I looked at my friends, took a deep breath, and waited.

My heart jumped into my throat when they finally started moving again. The bridge creaked and groaned above us at the weight, and I wondered suddenly what would happen if it broke. Would they look down and see us? Fall on top of us? I could see spaces between some of the boards–would those soldiers look down and see me looking up at them?

I glanced at Reis anxiously, but found him calm and collected. He was casually resting the butt of his rifle against his right shoulder, the nose pointed up toward the bridge above us. If anything happened, he'd be ready.

Then we heard the voices. The hair on the back of my neck stood in shock.

“Sir, what about Lord Dresden's battle? The road to Bosworth is this way,” the first voice called out.

“Be damned with the battle! I want those horse thieves strung up for their crimes, and Lord Dresden would want the same,” another voice answered roughly.

Reis gripped the barrel of his gun until his knuckles turned white, and I gulped. These were Dresden's soldiers? Of all the rotten ideas in the world, we'd managed to draw the attention of
Dresden's
soldiers by stealing their horses? The one man in this world we were working hardest to
avoid?

We listened breathlessly as the horses stomped across the bridge, our eyes on the shadows above us. Obviously the leader had a decision to make. We could only hope that he decided to ride into the forest, as Reis thought he would. If he decided against the forest, we'd be trapped.

Finally, after an eternity of waiting, the man made his decision. “We find the thieves, kill them, and
then
ride to battle,” he snarled. The other men grunted in agreement or acceptance, and moved after their commander. Seconds later, our pursuers had vacated the bridge and disappeared into the forest.

We were free. For the moment.

Reis nodded quickly and led his horse out from under the bridge, motioning for us to follow. Within moments, we were remounted and tearing down the open road, on our way to Bosworth.