Dragonblade Trilogy - 02 - Island of Glass (39 page)

Kirk had been the only home he
had ever known. It was natural for him to want to return. He truthfully had no
idea what he would find, but Kenneth and Aubrielle had not been in his
thoughts. The last he’d seen of either of them had been enough to convince him
that they had, long ago, met their deaths. To find them alive and thriving, to
find himself foiled by them once again, was more than his fragile mind could
take.

He hadn’t formulated any plan in
particular when he had arrived. But seeing Kenneth in his full glory as the
earl, riding from the gates of Kirk, had fueled a deep sense of bitterness and
vengeance. The man had the gods on his side; that much was apparent. Lucius had
suffered no such luck. When the main gates closed behind the departing army,
the former captain’s thoughts turned to the woman who had been the source of
his downfall.        

The Lady Aubrielle Grace di
Witney St. Héver was somewhere in the keep he knew so well, living her happy
life with no inkling of what lurked inside her prosperous walls. With the
mighty St. Héver gone, there would be no one to protect her. Lucius had almost
killed her once; aye, he had pretended not to remember what he had done to her
those many months ago, but the truth was that he did indeed recollect his act.
He knew what he had done.

Sneaking in to the castle had
been easy. He’d served at Kirk for many years and knew every passage, every
door.  He waited until the sentries changed shifts before making his move
through the postern gate, right before it was locked for the night.  Once he
was inside the kitchen yards, it was simply a matter of making his way into the
keep.  That was made simple through the kitchens and the trap door through the
floor that led into the great hall.

The great hall didn’t look any
different than he remembered.  It still smelled like dogs and roasting meat,
and he took a moment to pause, remembering the glory he once enjoyed within the
very walls of this chamber. Once, he had been in charge and men listened to
him. He longed for those days once again. Making his way along the eastern wall
towards the doorway that led to the stairs, he suddenly crashed head-long into
an old servant.

The old man had his hands full of
scraps and remnants from a meal.  He hardly put up a fight as Lucius snapped
his neck and left him in a heap in the corner.  Lucius knew, however, that it
would only be a matter of time before the body was discovered so he made haste
to the staircase that led to the upper floors, knowing that was where he would
find Aubrielle.

His mistake had been in not
killing her when he’d had the chance. He would not make the same mistake again.

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

“Will you be needing anything
tonight, m’lady?”

The toothless serving wench
folded the last of the swaddling she had washed earlier that day. Aubrielle had
Brennan around his fat little body, holding him against her hip as she picked
up his woolen night gown in preparation for putting him down to sleep.

“Nay, nothing else,” she told the
girl. “Just make sure fire is banked before you leave.”

The girl did as she was told and
bid her lady a good eve. When the door shut softly, Aubrielle put the baby on
the bed to change his clothes for sleep. Brennan did not want to lie still,
however, and he squirmed and rolled around while his mother struggled to dress
him. Aubrielle made a game of it as he fussed, finally able to secure the
little leggings that kept his feet and body warm. Brennan sat up, grabbed the
toe of one of the leggings, and promptly pulled it half way off.

Shaking her head, Aubrielle
pulled the legging tight again. The little pup, having watched all of the
activity from his perch on the pillow, took up the revolt and grabbed the other
legging and pulled. Aubrielle found herself not only dealing with Brennan, but
with the wily pup. Finally, she was able to control the disobedient pair and
picked Brennan up, pretending he was a bird and flying him through the air
until they both came to rest on the large sling-back chair that Kenneth had
made for her. He was a man of many talents, carpentry among them. The baby
fretted until she settled him down on her nipple.

“Hush, now,” she said softly,
rocking him gently as he fed. She gazed down at the baby, already half-lidded,
thinking how much he looked like his father. Stroking the downy-blond head, her
longing for Kenneth burst forth and she allowed herself the first moment to
truly miss him.

She knew how badly he had felt
when he had left that morning. She had seen it in his eyes. It would not have
done any good for her to cry at his departure, so she put on a brave front,
hoping that would ease his ache. He had been characteristically strong and
controlled, but she knew it was a façade. Even as he left the gates, proud and
strong, she could feel his emotions as she knew he felt hers. She had prayed
all day that the glimpse of her husband as he left the walls of Kirk would not
be her last of him alive.

Brennan quickly fell asleep and she
disengaged him from her nipple and put him in his little bed. She was coming to
be firm about having him sleep in his own bed even though Kenneth preferred the
baby in their larger bed between them. It made it rather tricky when he made
love to her. Not only was the baby between them, but oft time, so was the
little pup. Still, Kenneth seemed to want his family as close to him as
possible, always. Sometimes Aubrielle felt it was an almost desperate need. It
was as if he was finally so happy, so content, that he didn’t want to let any
of it out of his reach for fear that he would wake up and it would all have
been a dream.

With Brennan fast asleep, Aubrielle
was finally able to relax. The pup, at her feet, hopped on the bed to watch
vigilantly over the baby. She put her finger to her lips in a silencing gesture
to the little dog as she quietly closed the door. The smaller chamber next
door, where she had spent her first few days at Kirk, had found new life as a
sitting room until they decided to turn it back into Brennan’s nursery. There
was mulled wine and a fire in that room and Aubrielle gratefully retreated to
it.

It was peaceful and warm. But as
she poured herself a cup of wine, she realized how very much she missed her
husband. This was the time they treasured together, away from Kirk and duties
and even Brennan. It was just the two of them, talking softly or making love
before the fire. She took a sip of her wine and her longing for him deepened.
She said another silent prayer that he would survive the battle at Dolforwyn
and return to her whole.

She eased herself into a chair,
gazing into the licks of flame and thinking back to the time when the Grail had
been the most important thing in her life. In this very room, she had told
Kenneth of her quest and of the Scroll of Munsalvaesche. She remembered the
look on his face when she had first confided in him, and the thought made her
smile. He had thought she was insane as well as blasphemous.

A soft knock on the door roused
her; glancing up, she saw that it was Brother Grendel.

“Come in,” she motioned to him.
“Have some wine with me. I was just sitting here, thinking.”

He moved into the room, his
narrow face warm with a smile. “What about, dare I ask?”

She laughed softly. “Days past
when the Grail seemed like the most important thing in the world to me.”

“And those thoughts have
changed?”

“Dramatically so. Do I even seem
like the same person?”

Grendel shook his head. “You do
not. I give Lord Kenneth all of the credit. He has done what I thought no man could
ever do.”

She wrinkled her nose at him.
“Did you come for a reason or did you simply come to insult me?”

His warm smile broadened. “Max
and I drew straws to see who would come to see how you were faring. With Lord
Kenneth gone, we thought you might be lonely.”

“I am well enough.”

“Then if you do not need anyone
to talk to, I shall inform Max that you are well enough and retire for the
night.”

“I always need you to talk to.
But it is late and I encourage you to retire.”

He gave her a wink and moved for
the door. “Grendel?” she called after him.

He paused. “M’lady?”

“You aren’t still thinking about
returning to St. Wenburgh, are you?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Why do you think? I tell you
every week that I do not want you to leave us. We need your guidance here. I
want you to promise me that you will stay, forever.”

He sighed. “God knows, the longer
I stay, the harder it will be to leave.”

“Then why do you stay?”

“Because I believe I am here for
a reason. I do not know what that reason is yet, but there is a reason
nonetheless. I do not believe God wants me to leave you yet.”

“Why?”

“I cannot explain. But I feel
that way.”

They had this conversation almost
nightly. They always said the same things to each other. Aubrielle bid him a
good night and he gently closed the door. Grendel had become such an integral
part of their lives over the past several months that she could not imagine
Kirk without him. He had become teacher, counselor and friend to them all,
filling a void they never knew existed.  Without him, Kirk would become a less
wonderful place. If she had to chain him to the wall, she was determined to
keep him.

She drained the wine and
continued to sit before the fire, daydreaming and then finally dozing. She had
no idea when she actually became aware of movement in the room, but suddenly,
she realized that she was not alone. Something was moving in the shadows, and
it was moving for her.

Startled, she sat forward in her
chair, her eyes wide and alert. The shape was like a phantom, weaving through
the darkness, silent as the grave as it deliberately stalked her. She sat like
stone, thinking perhaps it might leave her alone if she remained perfectly
still. When finally emerged into the soft light from the fire, Aubrielle
thought she was hallucinating.

It was several long, painful
seconds before she was able to speak. “Lucius,” she hissed.

He came to a halt, bowing to
acknowledge her recognition. “Countess.”

Until that very moment, Aubrielle
thought she might be dreaming. But the sound of his voice sent terror coursing
through her body. She bolted up, knocking the chair over. She knew
instinctively that Lucius had only her death on his mind; she could see it in
his eyes. There was no question why he was here; pleasantries were unnecessary
and pitifully out of place. She would not ask his business, nor where he had
been the past several months. All that mattered was that he was here, and Aubrielle
was fighting for her life before the struggle even began.

“Where did you come from?” she
demanded. “How did you get in here?”

“I had the run of Kirk long
before you came. I know her well enough to slip in unseen.”

She backed away from him,
rightfully terrified. “Get out of here,” she snarled. “Get out and I will
forget I saw you.”

He smiled thinly. “It took much
trouble for me to come to this place, Countess. I have no intention of
leaving.”

Aubrielle began mentally sizing
up her options; her beloved fire poker was behind him, against the wall near
the hearth. She knew she could not collect it before Lucius would stop her. Other
than the poker, the room contained very little that she could use to protect
herself with. There were, however, heavy candlesticks to her right, somewhat
behind her, that held fat tapers. They were the only items she could think of
that even remotely resembled an implement of defense.

No time like the present; she
wasn’t about to wait for Lucius to make the first threatening move. His mere
presence here was the first move. Whirling away from him, she snatched one of
the solid iron candleholders and wielded it like a club.

“Get out of here, Lucius,” she
growled. “Get out before I take your head off.”

Lucius took a step towards her.
“Still the same, are you not? Like a mad dog. A malevolent, scheming bitch.”

Aubrielle screamed at the top of
her lungs. “Guard!”

Lucius broke for the door,
throwing the bolt before anyone come to her aid. Aubrielle, meanwhile, had
hurled the candlestick at him, clipping him on the shoulder. In the same
motion, she raced for the fireplace and snatched the poker. Her plan of distraction
had worked somewhat, for now she had some protection. But the look on Lucius
face quickly cooled any strains of hope that she might have been feeling.

He looked like Death. Lucius
snarled at her, unsheathing his large blade. It was old, worn, but could still
do a significant amount of damage. Someone pounded from the other side of the
locked door and Lucius seemed to come alive with malice and fury. He sensed his
time would be short and he would not waste it.

He lunged the sword at her,
knocking the poker. Aubrielle didn’t back down, she swung the poker at his
head, a move he deftly parried. Grunting with fright and exertion, she stabbed
the poker at him again, jumping back out of his effective range as she did so.