Tapestries 05 - Embroidered Fantasies (20 page)

The tranquil scene of moments before rang with the sound of whinnying horses, cursing men and the crash of deadly steel. Those swords weren’t just for decoration.

She risked a glance over her shoulder and was momentarily dazzled by the display of physical prowess between horses and men as Sednar and Radnor attacked.

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She blinked and would have screamed if she’d had the breath. Michael was heading toward her, his horse getting closer and closer with each passing second. The woods.

They were her only hope. Maybe she could hide. There was no doubt in her mind that Radnor and Sednar would come for her.

She couldn’t even contemplate the possibility that they wouldn’t win the battle. A vision of the two of them lying in the dirt, their bodies cut open and bleeding, their eyes lifeless took her breath away. She shoved aside her panic and forced herself to keep moving. They would be fine. They had to be.

She loved them.

Fine time to admit that to herself. What a fool she’d been, ready to toss aside true love because she was afraid of what the future might hold. Who knew what was in the future? Bitterness filled her. She might not even live long enough to have a future. Not if Michael had his way.

And what did she have to go back to anyway? A job that really didn’t fulfill her. No real friends. A small apartment and some things.

A new sense of determination filled her. She would survive this. She’d survived her marriage with Michael and he would not destroy her now. She wouldn’t let him. And when this was over, she was going to have her say to the two brothers. If they still wanted her to stay, she’d make her choice.

But first, she had to stay alive.

Sednar blinked the sweat out of his eyes as he battled with the younger Luther. Ivan was a master fighter, but like his brother, he had a quick temper and no patience. That made him careless. Sednar thrust his sword downward. Ivan caught it with the edge of his. Sparks flew as the blades skated against one another. Sednar drew back and attacked again.

He’d had years of practice with his older brothers. And unlike most, many of his so-called training sessions had been a matter of life or death. Leon or any one of the rest of them would have killed him, or at least maimed him, if given half the chance. Only Radnor had been different.

The three youngest—him, Radnor and Genita—had somehow escaped the curse of the Craddock family. Maybe their older siblings had taken all the meanness. The gods only knew that they’d had more than their share. The Luthers were no different.

Sednar saw a flash of color and watched helplessly as Roxanne fled across the field with Michael in pursuit. In fact, the bastard was taunting her. Giving a roar, Sednar doubled his efforts, driving hard. The horse moved with him, an extension of his body.

He silently thanked Radnor. The man knew how to train horses and there were none better on Javara than the ones they were on.

Dust flew, mingling in the air with the sharp crash of steel and the mutter of curses.

Finally, Ivan made a mistake. Losing patience, the younger Luther struck out, 109

committing himself totally to a killing strike, giving himself no room to pull back or maneuver.

Sednar twisted aside and ducked to avoid the blow. He brought his right arm up, slamming it as hard as he could toward Ivan. His blade found flesh and bone. Steel slashed through the younger Luther’s body, coming out the other side. The other man’s eyes widened in surprise and he gasped, not quite able to believe what was happening.

Only the strength of Sednar’s arm and the strong steel of his sword were holding Ivan upright.

Sednar yanked his sword out and watched, dispassionately, as his opponent slumped to one side and slid from his horse. Using his knees, Sednar whirled his horse around in time to see Xander leaping at Agmar. Like an avenging god, Radnor held his sword with both hands and plunged it into his opponent’s neck. Blood flew, spattering horse and rider.

Radnor didn’t even wait to see Agmar fall. He wheeled his horse around and headed after Roxanne. Sednar shivered at the bloodlust in his brother’s eye. Michael Talbot had better run if he wanted to live.

Falling in beside each other, the two brothers guided their mounts across the field.

Hooves pounding, stirring up dirt and grass with every step, they plunged into the forest.

Roxanne weaved in and out of the trees, jumping over downed logs and thick roots.

Behind her Michael swore. As far as she knew, he hadn’t ridden a horse before arriving in Javara. She used that to her advantage. She paused by a large boulder, leaning against it as she sucked air into her starving lungs. Her arms were covered in shallow cuts and dotted with blood from the slaps of the branches of the trees she’d shoved her way through. The undergrowth was getting thicker, but that was in her favor.

“Don’t make me have to come get you, bitch. Come here and it will go easier for you.” Michael was working himself into a rage. She recognized all the signs.

A loud crash came from the left. Michael swore. The huge horse he was riding plunged over a four-foot bush. Michael was hanging on for dear life, his face bloody from the slashes of branches.

Good. He might be on horseback, but he wasn’t having any easier a time of it than she was. Roxanne studied the area around her and went right. A shout rose behind her and she knew he’d seen her. She needed a place to hide. She couldn’t keep running forever.

Roxanne lost all sense of time and direction as she ran. Her only thought was to stay ahead of Michael and remain alive. She didn’t dare think about Radnor and Sednar. She could only pray they were safe. They were both deadly with a sword. She’d watched them practice briefly. Even when they were only sparring, there was a sense of lethal intent about them that had made her shiver. Now it reassured her.

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The woods thinned and she stumbled into a small glade. She glanced both ways before racing forward. She needed to find shelter and that way led to the base of the mountain. Maybe she could find a cave or someplace she could hide until Michael either gave up or got lost.

She ignored the fact that she was totally lost as well. Radnor and Sednar would come for her. The pounding of hooves got stronger as she tripped on a rock and fell. She put out her hands to catch herself but didn’t quite make it. Palms skidding, she landed facedown on the ground.

She dug her fingers into the ground and pushed herself up.

“I’ve got you now.”

Roxanne jerked her head around, appalled to see Michael only a few yards away.

She dug her toes into the ground and scrambled up. Like a drunk, she staggered but kept going. The edge of the woods was only a few yards away. If she could make it, she could lose him again.

The horse bumped her shoulder, spinning her around and sending her crashing to the ground. Her muscles were like jelly. She didn’t have enough strength left to keep herself upright. The dirt rushed up to meet her.

A jolting pain shot down her arm and leg. Her hip ached. Ignoring it, she pushed herself into a sitting position. She needed to get up. She needed to run.

Michael dismounted from his horse and strode toward her, an expression of triumph on his face. “You didn’t really think you could get away from me, did you?” His tone was the one he used just before he beat her. He talked to her in that condescending voice she hated, as if she were a wayward child who’d done something wrong and needed to be punished.

“Stay away from me.” She tried to stand, but her legs would no longer cooperate.

Not to be defeated, she started to crawl. Her hand closed around a rock. She gripped it tight. It was a weapon. She’d use it to bash his head in if she had to.

It had come down to this. Him or her. Only one of them was leaving this clearing alive.

Michael was reaching for the buckle on his belt. “You know you brought this on yourself. You have no one else to blame.”

She’d heard that excuse, that justification a hundred times before. She tightened her hold on the rock and glared at him as she rolled up onto her knees. Her muscles quivered, but held. “I blame you, you weak sonofabitch.” His icy blue eyes narrowed. “I see you’ve forgotten how to speak to me.” His tone grew softer, almost caressing. “I can remedy that. If not me, then certainly the Luther brothers can. Once they kill your lovers, they’ll find us and take us back to their castle.

Once I’m done with you, they can have you.” He pulled the leather of his belt through the loops of his jeans. It made a heavy swishing sound that she often heard in her nightmares.

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Her stomach roiled and threatened to revolt. She swallowed hard, barely managing to keep down the meager amount she’d eaten earlier today. “What then? You’re stuck here.” She pushed herself to her knees and then to her feet. She swayed but didn’t fall.

Michael shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. If what I’ve heard is true, that godforsaken tapestry has to appear. Since it brought me here, it can take me back.” She shook her head, not truly surprised. Her ex was nothing if not single-minded.

Everything had to go his way, in his worldview. He moved closer. Taking his time now.

Almost taunting her with his nearness.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time, Roxy. I barely got started in L.A. but I’m going to finish it now. I can do what I want to you here with no consequences.” He doubled the leather in his hand. “You’ll simply end up another missing person on the back of a milk carton. And there’ll be not one shred of evidence to connect me.” She tightened her grip on the rock and waited. She locked the muscles in her legs to keep from crumpling to the ground. Dirt and perspiration covered her body and clothing. Exhaustion swamped her, but she wouldn’t give up.

She had too much to live for.

He raised his belt.

A battle cry ripped through the air. Two huge black horses crashed through the woods and into the clearing. Sednar and Radnor rode like demons. One with their horses, they were like two of the horsemen of the apocalypse as they closed the distance between themselves and Michael. Each held a sword high above his head. They were no longer gleaming but stained with the blood of their enemies.

Michael swore and made a grab for her. She’d been expecting it. She threw the rock at him, clipping him in the temple. He reeled back, blood dripping down his face. She experienced a brief moment of triumph, but he recovered quickly and lunged in her direction. She dropped to the ground, rolling as fast as she could away from him.

As if in slow motion, she could see the heavily shod hooves of the horses tearing up the ground. Their flanks covered in sweat, the muscles rippling beneath their silky black coats, their manes flying in the breeze.

Sednar and Radnor both wore masks of death and destruction. Both were peppered with blood. Theirs or their enemies, she didn’t know. As a unit, they split, one going to the left of Michael, the other to the right.

Michael suddenly seemed to realize just how much peril he was in. These weren’t men he could bargain with or manipulate. They were warriors and they were out for blood. His.

It unfolded like something from an action movie. Only it was terrifyingly real.

Michael turned and ran. Neither Radnor nor Sednar slowed their horses. They both leaned inward, Michael in their sights.

Roxanne couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. Two heavy swords swung at the same time, one going high, the other low. Thick blades cut through skin and bone. Blood flew 112

like water droplets in a rainstorm. Michael cried out, but the scream was short-lived as his head separated from his body and dropped to the ground. It rolled, landing a few yards from her. Sightless blue eyes stared up from the dirt.

She rolled away from the gruesome sight and vomited.

A male voice swore and a heavy hand dropped on her shoulder. Roxanne cringed, not wanting them to see her like this. The hand fell away. She used her palm to wipe her mouth. Taking a deep breath, she turned around, being careful to keep her gaze away from the bloody remains of her dead ex-husband.

As cruel as he was, she still felt sorry for him, even though he’d brought this on himself. He’d had a new start after getting out of prison but had chosen the path of destruction instead.

Radnor stood several feet away, his sword lowered by his side. His clothing, chest, arms and face were spattered with blood. His eyes were blank and emotionless. This was her fault. They’d been forced to kill for her.

She swallowed hard, unable to look away. Sednar crouched down in front of her, blocking her view of Radnor. He was covered in blood as well. His eyes weren’t blank, but bleak. She could see the pain in them and shivered. This wouldn’t have happened if she’d never come here.

They’d killed to keep her, to protect her. Their dark fate as Craddocks had been fulfilled because of her. She feared that’s how everyone would see it.

Her visions of having a life here crumbled before her very eyes. They wouldn’t want her now. Not after this. Everything Radnor and Sednar had struggled to build these past six years was now tainted by the blood of the three men they’d been forced to kill.

“Roxanne.” Sednar’s tone was low and even as he cupped her chin in his hand.

“Can you stand?”

She licked her lips, hating the sour taste in her mouth. “I’m not sure.” Radnor swore. Her gaze flew to his as he sheathed his sword in one smooth motion and strode toward her. Shouldering Sednar aside, he leaned down and scooped her off the ground.

Tears pricked her eyes as a sense of safety enveloped her. But it wasn’t real. She couldn’t count on it. Not any longer. Not after what had just happened. What would the people of their keep think? She’d brought death and destruction to their door once again.

A thought occurred to her. “You won’t get in trouble over this, will you?” She had visions of some kind of court proceedings. Maybe they’d lose their land. She huddled closer to Radnor as he swung up on the back of Xander.

“It is not your concern.” Radnor’s clipped words were like a slap in the face. It wasn’t her business because she wasn’t going to be here. The message was loud and clear.