Keeper of the Black Stones (39 page)

“Are you alright?” Tatiana asked.

I looked over at her and nodded at her question. I could feel everything about her as well, including her absolute fear of meeting her father unprepared. I reached for her hand, squeezing it when I found it.

“We're going to be fine,” I said quietly. “Trust me.”

She glanced at me, her eyes wide and her mouth grim, and gave me a single, curt nod.

Together, we strode toward the entrance and Lord Dresden.

“How close are we?” Reis asked anxiously. He looked up toward the driver's back and readied the knife, measuring the distance between himself and the man.

“In about twenty seconds we'll hit the lip of the bridge,” Paul replied. A moment later, they felt the cart begin to slow down, the horse bracing itself against the downward slope leading toward the bridge. That meant it was time.

Reis adjusted his body slightly, trying to make sure that everything was out of the way.

“What are you going to do?” Paul whispered nervously, watching Reis' movements.

Reis shook his head slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the driver's back as the soldier navigated the horse down toward the bridge. He stole a quick glance at the soldiers who trailed behind; he'd counted, and knew that only three of the soldiers were in front of them. The rest conveniently followed behind. He had direct shots at all of them. Once he started shooting, though, he'd have to hit his targets cleanly. He'd have one shot at each. If he was lucky.

“I want the two of you to keep your heads down,” he snapped, pinning Katherine and then Paul with his eyes. “No matter what happens or what you hear, keep your heads down. Do you understand?”

“Oh God, I knew it,” Paul groaned. “You're going to do something dangerous.”

“Something brave is more like it,” Katherine cut in, looking calmly at Reis.

“Or something really stupid,” Reis replied. He kept his head down and eyes on the man in front of them, waiting impatiently. Any minute now…

Finally he heard the change in the sound of the horse's hoofs. That was the sound he'd been waiting for. It meant that they'd reached the wooden bridge.

He sprang from the bed of the cart, pushing off with both legs to strike the driver from behind. His right arm went quickly around the man's neck, holding him for the split second it took for the knife to slip between the two vertebrae in his neck. A moment later, the man hit the bed of the wagon, dead.

The soldiers behind them shouted in alarm and surged forward, intent on over running the cart and re-capturing the prisoner. Reis bent and ripped the assault rifle from the dead man's body, bringing it up just in time to sight on the first soldier, who was nearly even with the cart. One shot sent the soldier flying from his horse, wounded.

Reis dropped to his knee, bracing his shoulders against the bench behind him, and focused on the next man. He took a quick, measured breath and squeezed off two more rounds. Each shot hit its target squarely in the chest, taking two more soldiers down.

Terrified by the sound of the gunfire, the horse hooked to the cart spooked, taking the cart with her. Reis lost his balance and crashed to the floor, losing sight of the other soldiers. Within moments he was back up, bracing his hip against the side of the bouncing cart and trying desperately to steady the rifle's site. He only had one chance to make this happen. His aim had to be true or it wouldn't work, and failure wasn't an option. Their lives were counting on this. He yanked the undercarriage of the weapon forward and drew the metallic pin back, arming the weapon's grenade launcher.
He only had one grenade–the weapon didn't support spares–so he had to make this count, or they would be toast, falling victims to the grenade themselves. He took a breath, lifted his arms, aimed his weapon at the center of the bridge … and pulled the trigger.

The rocket-propelled grenade found its mark just as the cart bounced off the bridge and onto solid ground. A thunderous explosion ripped through the valley as the bridge exploded, and debris flew across the landscape, blanketing the air in a cloud of dust and rubble.

“Awesome!” Paul shouted, popping up out of the cart to stare at the carnage behind them. Reis pushed him back down.

“Stay down!” he barked, turning his attention away from the bridge and toward the road in front of them. There had been three soldiers in front of the cart before he started, and he wasn't sure where they'd gone. If they had any brains, they were running like hell from the explosion, though he wasn't keen on the idea of them escaping either.

He frowned, then stripped the cartridge from the rifle and reloaded. If he found them, he'd be ready. In the meantime…

He turned toward Paul and Katherine, running his eyes over the two teenagers. “You two okay? Yes? Terrific. Sit down, stay down, and collect yourselves. It's going to be a bumpy ride from here on out. We're running out of time.”

“Where are we going?” Paul asked, his voice hoarse from yelling. Katherine looked from Reis to Paul and back, her eyes wide and shocked.

Reis turned and sat heavily on the bench of the wagon, scanning the road in front of him. “Paul, find the map and compass. I don't know how to get to Jason, but I do know how to get to Doc. That's where we're going. Jason will … well, Jason and Tatiana, I'm sure, will head in the same direction. When they can.”

Before Paul could answer, Reis brought the reins sharply down on the horse's rump, sending it quickly forward on the road to Bosworth.

28

W
e walked through several dank, badly lit hallways, flanked by Sloan and two of his soldiers, ducking around the water that dripped from the ceiling. A tense, heavy silence surrounded us, the soldiers to our right and left wearing identical expression of cold fear. I gulped, wondering again about the man we were going to meet. Finally we arrived at a narrow set of stairs, which ran almost vertically downward. At the bottom of the stairs we found a tall set of double doors guarded by three soldiers, all dressed in polished mail under red and white vests.

Sloan came to a firm stand in front of the doors and straightened his shoulders. “Please inform my father that I am here, and that I have brought the strangers he asked for.”

One of the guards nodded silently, then slipped through the door behind him. Tatiana and I glanced at each other, and then back toward the door. The soldier was already back, motioning for us to enter.

I took a deep breath. This was it, then. We were about to meet the man who was trying to destroy the world. Change history and the future. Kill my grandfather. At that last thought, my body seemed to remember why we were here. Suddenly my skin was flushed, my breath quick, and my blood boiling in my veins. This man was putting us all in danger, and I found–much to my surprise–that I was angry with him.

I threw my chin up and marched into the room, silently hoping that Tatiana would follow my example.

At first glance, the room was somewhat less than I expected.

It was sparse and colorless, with the shutters closed against the daylight outside. The area was only dimly lit by the candles on the walls, and broken up into two noticeable spaces. One, where we stood, contained a desk and an ornately carved chair, along with a table and four smaller chairs. On the other side of the room, a bed as big as two king-sized beds back home sat against the wall. A massive fireplace occupied at least half of the far wall, and four dirty rugs the color of wet concrete lay scattered on the stone floor at the foot of the bed.

Suddenly a man stepped from the shadows beside the fireplace and walked toward us. He was shorter than I'd expected, but then the only time I'd seen him he'd been on a horse. He was easily recognizable, though, with his white-blonde hair and sharp goatee. I saw now that he plucked his eyebrows to sculpt them at an angle. It made his face harsher, more … sinister.

With those dead eyes, I wondered if Nicholas Fleming–Lord Dresden–actually needed any further demonstration of his personality.

He strolled casually toward the table that sat next to the desk, where he poured himself a glass of what appeared to be red wine. He took a sip, then turned toward us and raised his eyebrows, like he'd just noticed that we were there.

I stifled a snort.

The man lifted one eyebrow in my direction, like he'd heard it anyway, then turned toward Tatiana. He frowned and took several steps forward, coming to a stop an arm's length from her. My eyes flew to Tatiana's face, taking in the tightly clenched jaw and pale line of perspiration along her brow. She was both terrified and viciously angry, and I thought for a moment that she meant to strike the man.

Her eyes narrowed, though, and her mouth grew firm with dislike. “Monster,” she breathed, the rage clear in her voice.

Dresden's hand flew out, quick as a snake, striking her in the face and sending her sprawling. I moved to help her, but stopped when she put out a hand.

“I'm fine,” she muttered. “It's no more than I expected from the man who
beat my mother senseless every night.” She rolled quickly away from him, avoiding the kick he aimed at her head, and glared at him from behind me.

“And now you're trying to take over the world, and its history,” she muttered quietly. “So cliché. So predictable,
Father
.”

Behind us, Sloan gasped in shock, and Dresden looked at his son for the first time.

“So she's been telling the truth,” the boy muttered. “She
is
your daughter.”

Dresden's face grew dangerously dark, and his violent temper transferred from Tatiana to his son. He strode toward the boy and struck him as well, sending him to the ground next to his half sister.

“I told you not to question them, boy,” he snarled.

“He didn't,” I replied quickly. “I told him everything … without being asked.” I tilted my chin up, daring the man to hit me as well. At least I'd taken his attention off Sloan. The kid hadn't exactly been friendly on the trip over, but I'd seen something in him in that clearing. Something light rather than dark. I wasn't going to stand by while his father beat it out of him.

I rethought that plan almost immediately, as Dresden turned and began to approach me. His eyes were cold and calculating, with no warmth or humanity in them. He looked as though his face had been poured of concrete. I saw his hands flexing at his sides and steadied myself for the blow I was sure was coming.

Instead of striking me, though, he laughed. “I don't believe it. Of all the people to stroll into my little world. I'd known that there were people from the future here, but I never expected this. Richard Evans' grandson. I'd know you anywhere. The eyes, the nose … the pure arrogance. What a wonderful–and convenient–surprise.” He took a step back, placing his right hand under his chin and studying us as if we were collectable items behind a merchant's window. After a moment, a twisted smile formed beneath his angular features.

“The dear doctor doesn't know you're here, does he?” he asked quietly.

My stomach dropped into my feet. He was right. I'd just fallen into Dresden's lap, and my grandfather didn't even know I was in this time period. Very little to hope for in terms of rescue, there, even if Doc was going to be around for more than one more day. What on earth had I done?

Dresden nearly giggled. “Oh this is too good to be true. For years I've been trying to capture the old man for the information he kept from me, but you … you've just made it so much easier. And so much sweeter.” He began to laugh. Slowly, at first but then more loudly, as if he'd lost control of his emotions. Or his sanity. His laugh echoed through the stone chamber, off the ceiling and down the hallway. It was a sick, revolting laugh, lacking all humanity. Lacking any type of joy. The hair stood up on the back of my neck and I glanced wordlessly at Tatiana. She stared back, her eyes wide. The man was absolutely mad.

Suddenly the laughter stopped. Dresden strode slowly back toward the desk, coming to a stop in front of it.