Beneath a Midnight Moon (22 page)
Read Beneath a Midnight Moon Online
Authors: Amanda Ashley
Chapter 37
Naked save for a scrap of cloth knotted around his loins, Hardane stood in the middle of the inquisition chamber, his wrists tightly lashed to a thick iron bar suspended over his head. The end of the noose around his neck was also secured to the iron bar to discourage him from turning into the wolf. Should he do so, the noose would tighten, and he would be left hanging in midair while the rope choked the life from his body.
How long had it been since Kylene had stood in this very room, in this very spot? How long since the Executioner had laid a whip across her tender flesh?
Hardane’s hands curled into tight fists as he stared into the eyes of the man who had replaced the former Executioner. He was a tall man with a long narrow face and cruel brown eyes. But he was a master with the long black whip in his hand.
For the last twenty minutes, he had plied the lash with infinite skill, sometimes sending the whip through the air so that it flicked lightly, painlessly, at Hardane’s groin. At other times, the lash cracked through the air to land with sickening force across his bare back, cutting deep into sweat-sheened flesh and quivering muscle.
He was a man who enjoyed his work, this new Executioner, Hardane had to give him that. And he was good at it, able to command the whip so that it fell soft as a caress, or sharp as the bite of an adder.
Hardane tensed as, from the corner of his eye, he saw the Executioner lift his arm, saw the whip slither through the air. His stomach clenched with dread and his mouth filled with the sharp taste of fear as the lash snaked through the air with a sharp whistling sound to bite deep into the backs of his legs.
He choked back the urge to cry out as the thick black whip fell again, slicing into the half-healed wound on his right thigh.
Head hanging, his breath coming in labored gasps, Hardane closed his eyes, his whole body trembling convulsively as he waited for the lash to fall again.
But there was only blessed silence. And then he heard a faint creak as the door to the inquisition chamber slid open and he knew the Interrogator had arrived, come to ask the same question he’d asked every day and every night since their arrival at the Fortress.
Renick stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Tapping a short black riding crop against his thigh, he circled the prisoner, a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. The Lord of Argone would break soon. No man could possibly endure what he’d endured and continue to resist. It was only a matter of time.
“I don’t want him dead,” Renick remarked as he walked around the prisoner. Face impassive, he observed the blood dripping down Hardane’s back and legs. “Only cooperative.”
“Yes, my lord.”
With a grunt, Renick dismissed the man, then went to stand in front of Hardane. Lifting his crop, he delivered a stinging blow to Hardane’s chest.
“Look at me!”
Wearily, Hardane opened his eyes and stared into the face of the Interrogator.
Dressed in a light gray wool shirt, dark gray breeches, and black boots, his face cleanly shaven, Renick looked fit and well rested, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. His eyes, as blue as an icy river, held a keen look of anticipation.
“The secret, Hardane,” Renick said brusquely. “I would know the secret of the Wolffan.”
“There is no secret.”
“She’ll be here soon,” Renick said, tapping the butt of his crop against Hardane’s chest. “The
Sea Dragon
has been seen off the northern coast. If you wish me to spare her life, you will tell me what I wish to know.”
Sea Dragon
has been seen off the northern coast. If you wish me to spare her life, you will tell me what I wish to know.”
“There’s nothing to tell!” Hardane exclaimed, the pain that racked him swallowed up in his fear for Kylene. “Don’t you think I’d tell you if there was?”
“We’ll soon see, won’t we?”
“Renick, for the love of God, leave her alone. Kill me now and be done with it, but don’t touch Kylene. If I’m gone, the prophesy can’t be fulfilled. You and Bourke can rule Mouldour. Cut me down and I’ll write my father a letter, extracting his promise that he’ll never attack Mouldour again. If necessary, I’ll have him send Bourke half of all our crops, all our goods. . . .”
Hardane groaned deep in his throat as the Interrogator shook his head, his expression one of boredom and disbelief.
“Renick, if that’s not enough, I swear I’ll give you everything I own.” He took a deep breath, knowing even as he prepared to humiliate himself by begging that it wouldn’t be enough. “Please, Renick, please don’t harm Kylene.”
The Interrogator stared up at the prisoner, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
“What aren’t you telling me, my lord wolf?” he mused. “There’s more here than concern for your woman. What are you hiding?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re lying.”
“No.” Hardane took a deep breath. “Kylene and I are life-mated. There’s a bond between us. I don’t know how to explain it, except to say that she’s a part of me, closer than my own blood kin.”
“What causes this bond?” Renick asked, his earlier conviction that Hardane was hiding something forgotten as he considered the implications of this new bit of information.
“It’s peculiar to seventh-born Wolffan offspring,” Hardane answered cautiously.
“If I should mate with a seventh-born Wolffan, would my mate and I share such a bond?”
A feeling of unease, a premonition of disaster, skittered down Hardane’s spine.
“I don’t know.” The lie slid smoothly past his lips.
The Interrogator’s eyes narrowed ominously. “I think you do.”
Renick tapped the crop against his thigh, his brow furrowed thoughtfully. Perhaps, if he were to life-mate with a seventh-born Wolffan woman and share the bond of which Hardane spoke, he might also be granted the secret of shape shifting. Perhaps he didn’t need the heir of Argone after all.
“Tell me, Hardane, does this bond pass to all seventh-born Wolffan?”
Hardane kept silent, the sense of impending danger growing stronger.
Without warning, Renick struck his crop against the half-healed wound on Hardane’s right thigh. “Answer my question, Wolffan.”
Fighting the urge to vomit, Hardane shook his head.
“Answer me,” Renick demanded, “or what happened here today will be as nothing compared to what will happen on the morrow. Does this bond pass to all seventh-born Wolffan?”
Hardane licked lips gone dry. “No.”
“You’re lying.”
“No.” Hardane gasped as Renick wielded his crop again.
“Explain!”
Hardane stared at the blood trickling down his thigh. Bright shafts of pain darted the length of his right leg, making it hard to think coherently.
“Explain,” Renick repeated softly. “Only tell me what I wish to know, and I promise no harm will come to Kylene.”
Hardane swallowed the bile in his throat. “Your word?”
“Of course. Only tell me what I wish to know and I’ll send someone to bind your wound. You’ll have food and wine. A blanket to turn away the cold.”
“Kylene . . .”
Her name whispered past his lips, soft as a sigh, and for a moment he saw her face, her warm brown eyes filled with concern, her lips moving in a silent prayer.
“Kylene . . .” He was fighting to stay conscious now. His hands curled around the bar over his head, and he stared at the Interrogator through a red haze of pain, felt the room begin to sway, felt himself falling into the darkness that hovered all around him.
Impatient to hear what Hardane had to say, Renick plied his quirt one more time.
Hardane gasped, his body twitching convulsively, as a fresh wave of pain jerked him from the brink of unconsciousness.
“I’ll do her no harm, Wolffan,” Renick said. “Only tell me now, quickly, what I wish to know.”
“Only the seventh born . . . of one who . . . is also . . . seventh born.”
“Your mother!” Renick exclaimed, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it before. “Of course.”
But Hardane was past hearing.
When he woke, he was lying on the floor of his cell, his arms chained behind his back. He groaned softly as he struggled to sit up. His wounds had been treated and bound. A blanket of coarse wool covered his nakedness. A plate of cold sliced mutton, vegetables, and a loaf of freshly baked bread were on the floor beside him, along with a large bowl filled with wine.
A wry smile tugged at Hardane’s features as he received Renick’s silent message.
You’re a wolf. Eat like one.
His pride, the only thing the Executioner hadn’t whipped to shreds, rebelled at the idea of eating off the floor like a dog, but his hunger soon overcame his self-esteem.
It was awkward, eating off the floor with his hands chained behind his back, but he managed it well enough to take the edge off his hunger.
After quenching his thirst, he sat back against the wall, closed his eyes, and summoned Kylene’s image to mind. He would die content, he thought, if he could only hold her one more time, inhale her warm womanly scent, touch the silk of her hair, taste the incredible sweetness of her lips.
Kylene. He ached for her in the depths of his soul; his heart feared for her safety.
Kylene. She was near. The
Sea Dragon
had been seen off the northern coast of Mouldour.
Sea Dragon
had been seen off the northern coast of Mouldour.
Perhaps she was here, even now.
“Ready?” Sharilyn asked.
“Ready,” Kylene replied firmly, though her hands were shaking and she wondered if her legs would support her.
“We’ll be right behind you,” Lord Kray said, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
Sharilyn embraced her husband. “If anything goes wrong, remember how much I love you.”
Lord Kray nodded. “As I love you.” He gazed deep into his wife’s eyes. “Should it become necessary to make a choice, you know what to do.”
“Aye, my lord,” Sharilyn whispered. “Are you ready, Kylene?”
“Yes.”
“Jared?”
“Let’s go,” he replied tersely, and settled the helmet more firmly on his head.
There was a moment of silence, and then the four of them disappeared into the darkness that surrounded the Fortress.
Chapter 38
Hardane stirred restlessly on the cold stone floor. The pain in his thigh made it difficult to get comfortable; concern for Kylene made sleep impossible.
Through heavy-lidded eyes he stared at his right thigh. It was a mass of torn and swollen flesh, and he wondered absently if he would die from the Executioner’s whip or from the infection slowly spreading through him.
Steeped in despair, he gazed into the darkness, cursing Renick, cursing himself. If anything happened to Kylene . . .
He frowned as he saw a faint light illuminate the far end of the corridor. He heard footsteps, and then he saw Renick and Selene walking toward him, trailed by a guard bearing a torch.
Hardane’s hands curled into tight fists as he wondered what mischief had brought his enemies to the dungeon at such a late hour.
Abruptly, he stood up, the pain in his leg momentarily forgotten. As the three figures drew near, he leaned forward, his eyes narrowed, his instincts telling him that all was not as it seemed.
“Kylene!” he exclaimed softly.
And then he frowned as he took a closer look at the Interrogator and he knew that it wasn’t Renick at all, but Sharilyn in Renick’s form.
“Mother?” Hardane shook his head, wondering if he was dreaming.
“We’ll have you out of here soon, Hardane,” his mother promised. “Hurry, Jared.”
Hardane’s gaze moved over the guard. “Jared!”
The guard set the torch in the holder outside the cell, then lifted the visor on his helmet. “The same,” he said.
Slipping a fine piece of wire from his pocket, Jared inserted it into the lock.
A moment later, the door swung open and Kylene hurried into the cell.
“Hardane, Hardane,” she murmured, her hands fluttering over him like butterfly wings, “what have they done to you?”
She bit back a cry of dismay as she noted the raw skin on his wrists, the bloodstained bandage on his thigh, the hollows in his cheeks.
“I’m fine,” he mumbled, his gaze fixed on her face while Jared worked his magic on the shackles that bound him to the wall.
“Can you walk?” Kylene asked.
“I don’t know.”
“We’ll get you out of here if I have to carry you,” Jared muttered.
“Hurry, now,” Sharilyn urged.
“A moment, mother mine,” Hardane said, and bracing himself against the wall, he drew Kylene into his arms and kissed her.
The heat of her body against his, the warmth of her kiss, chased the ache from his thigh and filled him with hope.
“Hardane!” Sharilyn said impatiently. “We don’t have time for that now.”
Hardane gave Kylene one last kiss and then, with regret, let her go.
Immediately, Jared stepped forward. “Put your arm around my shoulders and let’s get out of here while we can.”
Sharilyn, still in the guise of the Interrogator, went first, carrying the torch. Kylene followed her. Jared and Hardane came last.
“Where’s my father?” Hardane asked.
“Keeping guard at the entrance to the dungeon.”
“And the Interrogator?”
Jared shrugged. “Asleep in his chambers, I hope. We didn’t dare take the time to explore the sleeping quarters upstairs.”
Kylene glanced over her shoulder again and again as they made their way down the narrow corridor, assuring herself that Hardane was really there, repeatedly thanking the Father of All that he was still alive.
After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the stairway that led out of the dungeon.
For Hardane, each step sent fresh splinters of pain shooting through his thigh, but he managed to make it to the top.
Lord Kray sighed with relief when he saw the four of them emerge from the bowels of the Fortress.
Stepping forward, he gave his son a fierce hug. “Thank the Father,” he murmured.
Silent as wraiths, they made their way through the dark hallway that led to the entrance of the Fortress.
Kylene held her breath as Lord Kray approached the big double doors that led to freedom. They were going to make it.
Kray’s hand was on the latch when a dozen men materialized out of the shadows, their lances glinting in the light of the torch.
The captain of the guards surveyed the group assembled near the door, then addressed the Interrogator. “Is something amiss, milord?”
Sharilyn shook her head. “All is well. Return to your post.”
“Stand fast, Rynell. Brant, secure the door!”
Sharilyn and Kray exchanged uneasy glances as Renick entered the room.
“Take them, you fools!” Renick ordered brusquely.
Looking confused, the guards glanced uncertainly from one Interrogator to the other.
“He’s an impostor!” Renick said, pointing at Sharilyn.
“He’s the impostor!” Sharilyn countered imperiously.
Renick snorted derisively. “Take them, I say!”
Still, the guards didn’t move, their expressions mirroring their confusion as they stared at the two men, both of whom claimed to be the Lord High Interrogator of Mouldour.
“So,” Renick said, his gaze on Sharilyn’s face, “if you are the Interrogator, as you claim, then you can tell me the name of each man in this room.”
The guards looked at Sharilyn expectantly.
Kray smiled at her. “Looks like we’re well and truly caught, beloved,” he murmured.
Sharilyn smiled back. “May the Father of All grant that we may meet again in the clouds of Paradise,” she murmured, and then she shouted, “Jared, run!”
Pivoting on her heel, she threw the torch into Brant’s face, then drew her sword from its scabbard and whirled around to face the man who had come up behind her.
At the same time, Kray yanked the door open and pushed Jared and Hardane outside. Kylene followed hard on their heels.
“Make for the ship!” Kray shouted at Jared, and slamming the door, he drew his sword and took a place beside Sharilyn.
Rynell picked up the torch and placed it in a wall sconce while the other guards stared at Sharilyn. It was obvious the men were still perplexed by the presence of two men claiming to be the Interrogator.
“Take them!” Renick shouted, and the authority in his voice spurred his men into action.
Kray squeezed Sharilyn’s hand and then, with a cry, drove his sword into the heart of the nearest man.
Sharilyn’s cry echoed that of her husband as she lunged forward to parry a thrust in her direction.
Kray fought valiantly, his sword slicing through the air with great and deadly skill. For an instant, he admired his wife’s ability. She wielded her sword with the dexterity and proficiency of a seasoned warrior.
Between them, they dispatched four of the Interrogator’s men and disabled three others in a matter of minutes, and then one of the guards slipped past Kray’s defenses, his blade driving into Kray’s chest.
A cry of distress rose in Sharilyn’s throat as she saw her husband fall. Filled with rage, she whirled on the man who had wounded her husband, her sword slashing through the air like heat lightning until it found its mark.
“I want him alive!” The Interrogator’s voice rang out over the harsh sounds of battle, and the five remaining guards drew back to form a circle around Sharilyn, careful to stay out of reach of her blade.
For a long moment, Renick stared at the man standing beside the fallen Lord Kray. It was a bit unnerving, staring into one’s own face. Was it Hardane? Renick studied the impostor’s right leg. The man didn’t fight as if he’d been recently wounded.
Renick frowned, and then smiled. “Take him!” he ordered, and the five guards walked toward the impostor, slowly closing the circle.
With a savage cry, Sharilyn transformed into the wolf. Startled, the guards fell back, their mouths agape as they stared at the creature who had appeared to be a man only moments before.
Jaws snapping, Sharilyn lunged past the guards and hurled herself at the Interrogator, her only thought to rip the throat from the man who had harmed those she loved.
Renick reacted instantly. Drawing his knife, he faced the charging wolf and as the beast hurled itself at his throat, he buried his knife in the wolf’s belly.
A high-pitched shriek, more human than animal, echoed off the cold stone walls.
Jared swore under his breath, the short hairs rising on the back of his neck, as a long, agonized scream rent the stillness of the night.
Kylene shuddered as the heartrending cry rang in her ears. Never in all her life had she heard a cry filled with such terrible anguish.
She stared at Hardane, seeing the agony that slashed across his face as his mother’s soul-shattering scream faded into the quiet of the night.
He threw back his head, a howl of equal pain rising in his throat, and Kylene shuddered again, knowing she would never forget that awful sound, or the look of torment on Hardane’s face.
“Let me go!” Hardane demanded, trying to shake off Jared’s hold.
Jared shook his head as he tightened his grip on his friend’s shoulder. “There’s nothing you can do. We’ve got to get Kylene out of here.”
“I can’t leave them here!” Hardane argued, silently cursing the wound that rendered him too weak and light-headed to break Jared’s grasp on his arm.
“It’s what they wanted.”
Hardane swore under his breath, torn between the need to go back and fight alongside his parents and the need to protect Kylene.
In the end, he had no choice at all. Leaning heavily on Jared, he followed Kylene toward the shore where a small boat waited to carry them out to the
Sea Dragon
.
Sea Dragon
.
Kylene sat on the edge of the bunk, her hand enfolded in Hardane’s as the ship’s doctor examined the deep puncture in his thigh.
The wound had festered and she turned her head away as the doctor probed the swollen mass of mutilated flesh.
She let out a small gasp as Hardane’s hand tightened around hers.
“Sorry,” he muttered hoarsely, and loosened his grip.
Kylene smiled at him. “It’s all right.”
He looked up at her, his gray eyes narrowed with pain, his face pale and haggard. “We’ve got to go back.”
She didn’t say anything, only stared down at him, noting the dark shadows beneath his eyes, the deep lines of pain and weariness in his face.
A night and a day had passed since they escaped from the Fortress. Hardane had ordered the
Sea Dragon
to put out to sea, then dropped their sails when they were safely out of sight of Mouldour.
Sea Dragon
to put out to sea, then dropped their sails when they were safely out of sight of Mouldour.
He’d slept through that first night and well into the next day, his arms locked around Kylene’s waist as if he would never let her go, as if he feared that, should he release his hold on her, she would disappear forever.
And now it was night again, and in spite of Hardane’s assurances that he was fine, she had insisted that the doctor be called to examine his thigh.
The ship’s physician had confirmed her worst fears: the wound was infected. Unless something was done, the poison would spread and Hardane would die.
And now she sat beside him, trying not to vomit as the doctor lanced the wound, unleashing a river of thick yellow pus and blood so dark it was almost black.
Kylene leaned forward, wiping the sweat from Hardane’s brow with a cloth soaked in cold water. He was hurting, and hurting badly. She could see it in the depths of his eyes, in every taut line of his body. His hair, as black as a midnight sea, was damp with perspiration. One hand held hers in a viselike grip as the doctor probed deeper into his flesh, but she made no protest, knowing that he was hurting far worse than she.
She blinked back her tears, wishing there was something she could do to comfort him, to ease the awful pain that tormented him.
“Your . . . presence . . . comforts me,” he gasped.
“It will be over soon,” she promised. “Cry if you want to, my lord wolf. Scream if you must. I’ll not think the less of you for it.”
“Kiss me,” he whispered.
“Now?”
“Now.” The word was a groan.
Obligingly, she bent down and slanted her mouth over his. His lips were warm with fever and he tasted of the ale they’d given him in hopes of dulling the pain. He trembled convulsively as the doctor forced the poison from his flesh, and she kissed him harder, wishing she could draw his pain into her own body.
His hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers curling in her hair as the kiss lengthened and deepened, and Kylene felt the tension drain out of him, felt his body begin to relax.
Into her mind came a vision of the waterfall at Argone. She could hear the mighty roar of the water as it raced over the edge of the mountain, smell the earth, feel the spray of the falls against her face. She saw herself sitting on a flat rock, with the moonlight shining in her hair. And at her feet sat a big black wolf with eyes as gray as a winter sky.
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