The Lethal Flame (Flame Series) (18 page)

As they pulled her along the corridor and down the steps she wondered why Damien had not come again.  Had he already left?   The coward, she thought bitterly than felt guilt for he was anything but.  Out to the courtyard and right to the horse Damien had promised.  She had been moved to a mounting block making it easier to mount with the chains and gown.  Once settled she looked about herself for familiar faces and saw none.   Her heart sank, she saw none of Damien’s knights and knew he must have left Haltwhistle. 

One of the men led her by the manacles, forcing her to keep a good pace beside him so she wasn’t yanked from the saddle.  As they rode through the portcullis she locked eyes with Damien’s man Garrick, his face was expressionless, his dark eyes cold.  Then he looked away and she followed his gaze and she spotted him as they rode out into the road.  He sat on the hill to her left, his army spread out behind him.  Was it just a short time ago this man brought fear to her?  He watched her, too far away for her to read his expression.  This is better, she thought knowing how difficult it would have been to stand before him and say goodbye.  It would be impossible without making herself a crying fool.

She looked upon him until the pace and the twist of her neck made her turn forward again.  Tears pricked her eyes but she would not let them fall.  She remembered his warmth, his touch and drew her strength from that for what was to come.

~   ~   ~   ~

Damien felt like a coward sitting on the hill watching Keri ride away.  When had he ever been afraid to face something head on?  He knew well enough if he came within reach of her all his good sense would flee and they would be in quite a predicament because he would have no choice but to kill the king’s men and flee with her.  It would be a ridiculous move to make.

Once she was out of sight he hoped it would be easier to turn away but it wasn’t.  Perhaps it became harder because each step toward their destination was that much farther he would be getting from her.  He spurred Phantom knowing he had no choice but to go.  No choice, repeated inside his head to the rhythm of his horse’s hooves.

They made rapid progress toward Bewcastle though frigid the sunny day only seemed to darken his mood.  The entire world should be in mourning with him.  Cyrille kept his distance throughout the morning allowing his brother time to brood.  By midday the weather took a drastic turn and clouds gathered blacking out the sun, as the wind shifted Damien smelled rain and knew a storm was upon them.   He pulled his men off the road and set up a hasty camp.  The rain began to pour down upon them and the temperature plummeted with the setting of the sun.  Snow fell heavy, blanketing and freezing the wet ground underneath.   Travel would be treacherous and for once he was not bothered by their lack of progress for the weather would have slowed the king’s men down as well.  It would buy a few more hours, precious time for Damien to figure out how best to save this woman he knew he had to save the first time he saw her on the battlements at Langley.  It seemed as if their time together had flown between them but very little time had indeed passed too small an amount for an entire lifetime to be crammed into.

Before the first light of dawn streaked the sky Damien was jolted from his sleep.  What had awakened him?  The cold was prevalent but that alone in the shelter would not have been enough to wake him.  Then he heard it again, the unmistakable sound of the rush of feet.  “To arms!” Damien belted at the top of his lungs as he rolled to his feet, grabbing his sword he scrambled from the shelter, behind Cyrille, both men crawling overtop Edwin who still had to wipe the sleep from his eyes.

Out into the blackness they charged, the moving shadows could not be discerned from friends and enemies.  “To arms!” Damien called, shadows popping up around him.   One of those shadows moved toward him.  He turned suddenly in motion and meeting the big man brought his sword up, blocked the staff, and he whirled, grabbing for the man’s ear and with one big yank that nearly ripped the man’s ear off pulled him down into his sword. 

“Stand together!” he called to his men twice and they began to join with him
.  The enemy was weak and poorly armed.  By the time the streaks of light began to brighten the sky, blood flowed freely under the steel of Damien’s men.

Chapter 12

The men who escorted her to her doom made her extremely uneasy.  She tried to tell herself the uneasy feeling was natural but it went beyond that.  Their unkempt appearances made it clear they were sloth like.  They dragged their feet, too lazy to ride for extended periods.  This last was not a bad thing since it would take longer to reach Kirk.  They all reeked of sweat, ale and unwashed filth and none of them seemed to be particularly bright.  If she got her opportunity she was sure she could get away from them one way or the other.

She knew she was not the only one on the journey sizing up their opponents.  The weary glances her way let her know these men had already judged her and believed her to be a witch.  These glances were the only communication she received from them.  Otherwise they refused to talk to her even ignoring her pleas for privacy.  Since they made frequent stops, chaining her to trees or boulders she was able to take care of her basic needs using the privacy of her skirts and their avoidance of looking directly at her to relieve herself.  Since they would not give her food and water she figured those moments needed would decrease in frequency. 

When the sky began to darken they cast weary glances at her.   The rain began falling late in the day, drenching horses, riders and supplies.  The men grumbled at their luck but pressed on, hoping to reach shelter before nightfall.  Keri cursed them for their slow pace throughout the day because now she had to suffer for it.  She couldn’t stop the little laugh that escaped her lips making all four men turn to stare at her and she knew a seed of fear that she was the one responsible for the sudden turn in the weather had planted itself in their minds.  The sleet and sudden plunge in temperatures turned the ground to ice.  As giant flakes of snow began to fall the men decided to stop, their plans for warm beds ruined.   

She pulled rein with the four men who were escorting her but the one they called Marvin, the biggest among them who had been carrying the other end of her chain gave a hard yank before she could dismount.  The sharp edges of the iron seared the already raw flesh on her wrists.  She felt her balance shift drastically as her mare moved from beneath her.  She brought her hands up to block her face before it could smash into the ground.   The iron was the first to strike followed by her hands and forearms.  Her shoulders felt as if they slammed upward into her skull as the white flash of gut wrenching pain crossed her vision before the rest of her body could land.  In a daze she felt him dragging her, the pain in her arms and wrists so intense she was aware of little else.  The snow bit at her skin as it entered the top of her cloak and the tops of the boots she was now so grateful to Damien for supplying her.  He didn’t stop until he came to a tree where he clamped the other end of her fetters around the trunk then stalked away.

Her entire body was frozen from her wet clothing and the wind whipping across the hillside they had stopped on.  Her hands hung exposed to the elements and only by straining against the cuffs around her wrists could she manage to get the cloak around them.  Using her feet she began clearing the snow from beneath her, digging at it using the heel and toe of her boots to chip away the ice until she had a good patch of bare ground to stand upon.  The snow fell at an alarming rate and she watched as the men franticly worked on a shelter and fire.  Watching the red hot flames of the fire devouring the wood, knowing there was heat being put off by its glow she yearned for it as she had yearned for few things in her life.  Her body shivered uncontrollably and she had to force her mind to calm itself, control her breathing so she could concentrate on keeping her hands from freezing and piling the snow up around her as it continued falling.

What followed felt like a nightmare for Keri as each breath became harder to draw from the panic building inside her.  Each moment seemed eternal because she knew she was slowly freezing to death as the men huddled in their shelter, the fire close enough to warm their small space.  She wanted to call to them but what good would that do?  Would it be worse to freeze or to burn?

She heard voices rising in anger then one of the men came out from underneath the shelter.  Marvin came directly to her his rapid approach left her only a fleeting moment to wonder what his intent was.  He held a knife in his hand he had pointed directly at her chest.  She dodged the thrust only to have him grab her by the shoulders, his beefy fingers digging into her flesh.  The darkness of the night cloaked the man called Cal but she could hear him slurp between his teeth as Marvin swung her around and slammed her into the tree.  Pain shot up her shoulder and through the strain on her wrists.  Cal made an eager cackling laugh that made her think of a vulture waiting its turn at a carcass, to cowardly to initiate the meal.

Franticly she kicked out at Marvin which got her a punch in the side.  She doubled over and the filthy man laughed at her as he reached for her with one hand, the dagger in the other.  She twisted from his grasp and he grabbed her, using the full force of his backward swing he landed the slap across her cheek.  She grunted when she began to fall and the chain caught her. 

“I’m tired of playing games with you witch,” Marvin declared as if he had every right to be angry and blame her for their freezing circumstances.

She dangled against the chain for a moment her knees unable to support her.  Drawing in a breath cold enough it threatened to take it immediately away she regained her feet just as Marvin came at her again.  She heard Cal hopping up and down somewhere in the darkness behind Marvin and fear made panic rise in her chest.  He grabbed her, twisting her wrists cruelly, pain shooting up her arms.  She used all her strength to kick at him and anger exploded in her vision, crowding out all reason when her effort proved impotent when he easily grabbed her leg.  With a strangled gasp she lost her balance on her other leg, leaving her suspended as his knife began to descend again.

“You sons of whores!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.  She tensed her body, using momentum in her arms to try to shake Marvin off.  He dropped her and took a step toward her.  She found quick purchase with her feet, rising she grabbed the hands that descended toward her and turned the blade of the dagger so the man’s momentum carried him straight into it.  A sickening sound made it through the thunder of her rapid breaths as the steel entered his eye.  He made not a sound as his body fell against her.

“Holy mother of God,” she heard Cal mumble.

She heard his feet muffled as he fled from her and she wasted no time as she franticly tried to drag her hands down enough to reach the man’s belt where she had seen him tie the key to her shackles when he had first put them on her.  Using her legs she wrapped them around his torso and lifted his limp body upward, her wrists screaming at her for the abuse.  She let him go and tried to grab for the dagger in his head but she did not have enough length to her chain to reach it.  Again, she used her legs to slide his body up, her arms trembling, and she was sure she would never be able to feel her hands again if they weren’t already severed from her body.  Her fingers gripped his hair, she was pretty sure of it, her fingers bumped into the dagger and trembling, the fear that she would not be able to hold onto it was very real in her mind as she swung her legs from around him.  His body sagged and fell and for a heart stopping moment she felt her fingers sliding on the handle. 

Looking down at the body the dagger was no longer protruding from his eye socket.  She stood panting, the cold surrounding her forgotten.  She heard shouts and curses as she stood on her tiptoes to get a better look at her hands and the lock binding her wrists.  Her hands shook and she nearly dropped the knife as she turned it in her hands in order to get the point to the key hole.  She stopped a moment, willing her hands to stop shaking.  Blood oozed from her wrists, her fingers wet and numb refused to stop their trembling as she made several attempts to get the point into the hole.  Finally she succeeded and concentrated on working the lock and not trembling so badly the point would come back out. 

She cast a furtive glance toward the fire a distance away then back to her hands.  She repositioned, giving the knife a different angle.  Frustration mounted as she gritted her teeth.  In her legs tremors began that flowed through her body in earnest not aiding her as she began hammering the point around in the hole.  Finally the iron opened and it was all she could do to hold the blade in her numb, shaking hands.  She turned slightly, alleviating some of the muscle tension as she switched hands with the dagger and began work on the other.  When that came lose her body gave out.  She did not know if it was exhaustion she had stayed off until that very moment or if it was the relief that made her collapse but she found herself on the ground panting.  She allowed herself only a few breaths before she struggled to her feet.  Bending, she quickly gripped the knife with both hands and slid it into the top of her boot, and then turning fled into the cold darkness.

~   ~   ~   ~

She moved quickly throughout the night.  At least she thought it was quickly, her body had gone beyond exhaustion to a running numbness.  Her breath was labored and each intake and exhale of breath bit at her chest, creating a stabbing pain that made her want to stop, but she could not.  She had to run, get away, and survive.

Dawn was just beginning to break when they came for her.  The three of them as if they had been following her all night, or perhaps she had traveled in a circle.  They surrounded her, the men were angry, even their horses seemed angry as they blew in the morning chill.

Keri stopped, for running now would be fruitless as the exhaustion threatened to buckle her knees.  She stared at them, atop their horses, their faces obscured in the early morning shadows but she sensed their fear.  She had killed one of them with their own knife.  There were any number of ways a witch might accomplish it so none of them were in a hurry to approach her.  The woods were just beyond them and her brain quickly calculated the chances of reaching them.  She dodged the closest horse and made a mad dash for cover, knowing she would never be able to outrun the horses.   Suddenly one was there, in front of her and the rider’s foot was lifting.  She raised her eyes in time to collide with the cold blue of Liam’s before pain exploded in her head and darkness rushed in on her.

~   ~   ~   ~

Damien pushed his men and himself beyond the brink of endurance in his haste to get to Bewcastle and carry out the king’s orders.  The snow from the two nights before was melting from the bright sun as Damien rode into the courtyard of Keri’s home.  As the people looked upon him curiously as they went about their work he couldn’t help but think of her and see her in the children who ran about playing.  He knew instinctively this place did not house rebels.  Their gates were open and they welcomed him in and were not afraid to see the king’s men arrive.

Lord Charles waited for them on the steps of the keep.  Damien looked up at the older man, his defiant chin had passed itself down to his daughter, as well as the same golden flecked brown eyes he noticed immediately as he drew Phantom to a stop.  He could imagine a young Keri bounding down the stone steps and racing across the courtyard.  In his mind’s eye he also saw Alec waiting for her at the gate, open to the world for them to conquer.  He scowled and bitterness washed over him mingled with regret for killing Keri’s friend.  He wondered when regret played a part in his duty.

Damien knew he and his contingent of 12 would be an intimidating sight as the old man descended the steps to greet them.  Damien’s helmet still sat upon his head his chain mail protecting his body and a hand rested near, always ready to draw his sword and he hoped Charles would readily recognize Damien and his men had come ready to fight.  Recognition was clearly written on the uncertainty of Charles’s face.  The stories of Sir Damien, the man who had destroyed castles and taken back lands from suspected rebels would have reached him by now.  He would know there leader by the man in the hood who rode beside him. 

Damien swung from his massive horse onto the ground and waited for the nobleman to approach him. 

Damien stood at his full height in an effort to be as intimidating to this man as possible.  He didn’t want to hurt Keri’s father.  He wanted to leave here in peace.  As a matter-of-fact he wished he hadn’t come here at all.  “I am Sir Damien Le Forte sent by King Richard in an effort to ensure there are no rebels in control here.”

“Sir Damien, your loyalty to the crown is a legend to old warriors like me.  It is an honor to have you and your brother with us,” he said motioning to the hooded man who still sat atop his horse. 

“Come,” Charles said taking two steps back toward the hall.  “You and your men must be tired and in need of a meal.  Stay the night and I will apprise you of the goings on and let you be the judge.”  He cast a glance back to make sure Damien followed.

Entering the hall Damien took note of the tidiness of it.  The floors were freshly swept, clean rushes placed on it.  The
long tables were clean, and windows allowed light to stream in giving it a freshness that was a welcome change to most keeps he had been in.  Charles bellowed for the servants to bring ale and refreshments before motioning Damien into a chair on the dais near the hearth. 

“I also bring word from your daughter,” Damien said as he sank gratefully into the chair.  How was he to tell him of his daughter’s fate and the role he himself had played in it?  He would be more comfortable charging into a battle than sitting here facing Keri’s father.