Dragonblade Trilogy - 02 - Island of Glass (40 page)

“You attacked me once in this room,”
she said. “Like a coward, you assaulted me and I was unable to fight back. But
I will certainly fight back now; do not think I will make this easy for you.”

“I expect nothing less,” he
stalked towards her, leveling the blade. “’Twill make this victory that much
sweeter.”

Lucius wasn’t stupid and,
unfortunately for Aubrielle, he was rather good with a sword.  He easily
countered her moves, swinging the big sword at her head. With a second huge
lunge, he narrowly missed her and she shrieked with surprise and fear, ducking
low and dashing well out of his range again.

Aubrielle quickly realized that
the only way to stay alive was to stay away from him and get to the door so
that she could unbolt it. On the other side, she could hear male voices calling
to her, the guards who had been on duty on the floor below. More than fear, Aubrielle
felt an extreme amount of anger.

“Why did you come back here?” she
half-demanded, half-begged. “You were safe wherever you were, out of Kenneth’s
mind. Now he will kill you for sure and make certain your death is as painful
as possible.”

Lucius chopped heavily with the
sword, disintegrating a small table that held the wine decanter. The table and
the decanter shattered on the floor, creating tremendous racket.

“Certainly you know something of
knights, my lady,” he was beginning to breathe heavily, his insanity and
activity becoming laborious. “You know that honor is everything. You destroyed
my honor. I have come to get it back.”

Confusion flickered across her
face. “Destroyed it? You never had any to begin with. You are the most
dishonorable, despicable person I have ever known. My uncle knew it, too,
though he was too kind to do what he should have done long ago. He felt sorry
for you when he should have thrown you to the wolves!”

He thrust the sword at her
suddenly, catching her arm. It was enough to tear her sleeve and nick her
flesh. “But he did not. He kept me as his captain, a title that you tore from
me the moment you inherited your uncle’s wealth. You had no right to do it. It
was mine.”

Blood stained her sleeve but Aubrielle
didn’t take the time to inspect the wound; she suspected the next one would be
far worse if she wasn’t more careful. “I did not want you as my captain because
you are a worthless excuse for a man.”

He paled, his movement slowing as
he stalked her across the room. “You took every opportunity to demean me, to
insult me. I never gave you reason.”

“Your character was reason
enough, Lucius. The only thing you ever demonstrated was that you could shamelessly
flatter my uncle and gain his favor when it was to your advantage. You never
stopped to think that it was perhaps good deeds he wanted more than your silver
tongue.”

“What do you know of gaining
favor? You were born to it.”

“You cannot blame me for that.”

“And you cannot blame me for
gaining favor the only way I can.”

 He thrust the sword at her
again, banging against the poker. Aubrielle responded by swinging her weapon
wildly until she clipped him on the cheek. Lucius paused long enough to wipe
the blood away, chuckling softly when he saw it on his fingers.

“Good contact, Countess,” he
said. “But see if you can deter this.”

He swung the sword to his right;
when Aubrielle moved to counter it, he spun around and undercut her. The tip of
the blade scratched right across her midsection, blazing a path several inches
long. Aubrielle cried out in pain, falling away from him. He did not give her a
chance to breathe, however; he brought the sword down again but she managed to
lift the poker. The two weapons came into contact with one another at an odd
angle and Lucius lost the grip on his sword. As it clattered to the ground, he
dove for it along with Aubrielle and they both ended up on the floor.

Aubrielle was bleeding but had no
intention of giving up. She wrestled with Lucius for the sword, but he grabbed
her by the hair and pounded her skull a couple of times with his fist. Dazed,
she lost enough of her momentum to allow him to reach his sword before she did.

Though her head was swimming and
her body screaming with pain, Aubrielle refused to surrender. When she saw
Lucius reclaim his sword, she scampered to her knees and threw herself in the
direction of the bolted door. Lucius came up behind her and swung his sword at
her, but she had felt his presence and rolled to her left, away from the blade
of death.  Lucius swung the sword again, this time hitting the wall and jamming
it in the wood. In the moments it took him to yank it free, Aubrielle raised
the poker that was still in her hand and hit him, with all of her might, across
the back of the neck.

Lucius groaned and fell to his
knees. Bleeding, in pain, Aubrielle swung the poker again and again, beating
the man as he went down. On the fourth strike, however, Lucius reached up and
grabbed the poker, yanking it out of her hand. Her impetus interrupted, Aubrielle
was thrown off balance enough that she stumbled back and sprawled on the floor.
Lucius threw the poker across the room, yanked his sword out of the wall, and
took a step towards her. Now was the time to finish what he had come here to
do.

That was when the door exploded.

Kenneth was standing where the
door had once been. One look at his wife, in mortal combat with a man he should
have killed long ago, and there was no stopping his rage. Kenneth leveled his
weapon with both hands and brought a heavy downward parry at Lucius’ raised
weapon. The second violent blow had Lucius reeling. The third blow knocked the
sword from his hand and sent him to the floor.

Lucius might have lost his blade,
but he was no means weaponless; he dove under Kenneth’s last and surely final
strike, dislodging a small dirk from his belt as he did so. He was closer to Aubrielle
than Kenneth was; he grabbed her by the leg before Kenneth could get to him and
thrust the razor-sharp point of the dirk straight at her heart.

“Stop right there or she dies!”
he rasped.

Kenneth froze. Although his
features held no expression, the ice blue eyes were filled with horror. His
gaze moved to Aubrielle; she was beaten and bleeding, her lovely face a horrid
shade of white. She stared back at him with her sea-colored eyes, more trust
and peace than he had ever seen reflected in them. She had put up a good fight;
he could see it in her face. When she smiled weakly at him, forcing her
bravery, he very nearly came apart. But for appearance sake, he held himself
together.

Lucius jabbed her with the
dagger. “Drop the sword, Kenneth. Drop it, I say!”

His sword fell to the ground.
“Release her. This battle is between you and me, knight to knight. You shame yourself
attacking an unarmed woman.”

“I beg to differ,” Lucius
scrambled into a seated position, the dirk never moving from Aubrielle’s heart.
“My battle is indeed with the lady. Were it not for her, I would still be
captain of Kirk’s army and you, my friend, would still be my second. All would
be as it should.”

Kenneth’s manner frosted as he
struggled to maintain his control. “She is not the cause of your troubles,
Lucius. You and you alone have accomplished that. Let her go and we shall speak
again, as we did long ago when you and I were friendly. Let us settle this man
to man.”

Lucius could see the fear in
Kenneth’s eyes even though he tried desperately to hide it. He’d known the man
too long not to recognize the change. The knowledge empowered him. “Are you
afraid, Kenneth?”

“Not for myself.”

“For your wife, then?”

“I am.”

“Is it a gnawing fear, as if your
entire life is in danger of being destroyed right before your eyes?”

“It is.”

Lucius’ expression hardened, the
madness in his eyes evident. “Then know that I felt that since the moment Lady Aubrielle
arrived at Kirk those months ago. I felt the fear that my life was changing
before my eyes and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I want you to feel
what I felt. I want you to know that terror that all in your life is on the
brink of destruction and God seems to have turned his back on you. Do you feel
it?”

Kenneth didn’t want to respond.
It only seemed to fuel his insanity.

“Do you feel it?” Lucius shouted
at him.

“Do not
make
me feel it.”

“Beg for her, Kenneth. Let me
hear the mighty Kenneth St. Héver beg.”

“I beg you to spare her. With God
as my witness, I beg you with all my heart.”

Lucius’ malevolent laugh filled
the chamber. “The man I once knew would have rather thrown himself on his sword
than beg for mercy. Now, look at what this bitch has done to you. She has
destroyed us both; my life’s work and your extraordinary strength. She has
weakened you, Ken. Now tell me that she does not deserve to die.”

Kenneth wasn’t sure which way to
go with this line of thought; if he denied Lucius’ ravings, it might drive the
man to finish his deed. If he agreed with him, they might find a common bond
again and he could end this without Aubrielle losing her life. His head told
him one thing, his heart, another.

“She has not weakened me, much as
she has not destroyed your life,” he said evenly. “She did not order you to
attack her, nor did she demand you ally yourself with thieves and criminals
that would see me dead and Aubrielle come to ruin. You did that by yourself,
Captain. No one forced your hand.”

The twisted smile on Lucius’ face
faded. “I did what I had to survive as the tides turned against me.”

“You chose to dishonor yourself
and now you resort to murdering an unarmed woman. Will your self-sabotage and
lunacy never end?” He held out his huge palm. “Give me the weapon, Lucius. Give
it to me and I shall be merciful.”

A growl rose in Lucius’ throat,
radiating from his body until it echoed off the walls. His body tensed as he
prepared to thrust the dirk. In that split second, Kenneth could see what was
happening and he knew he was too far away to stop it.

“No!” he suddenly bellowed in a
completely uncharacteristic show of emotion. “Do not do it. Please; I beg you!”

Lucius’ eyes were wild with
madness. “’I should have done this years ago.”

“No!” Kenneth’s voice cracked and
he fell to his knees, hands outstretched. “Please; I shall do anything you
wish. No cost is too high if you will only spare her life.  Do not kill her; I
beseech you.”

Something in Lucius’ expression
flickered and the dagger, although pressed into Aubrielle’s skin, only drew a
thin red line. “Anything?”

Kenneth nodded firmly, his
control shattered. “Anything you wish. I will move heaven and earth to do it.”

Lucius liked that thought and it
was clear he was considering it. But before he truly got the chance, something
strange happened.

Brown robes enter the shattered
doorway, like a specter that moved too swiftly for detection. It was an odd
image, shifting, flowing, as it moved directly upon Lucius. In the wink of an
eye, Lucius howled with pain and his body went rigid. Kenneth’s startled gaze
fell upon Brother Grendel as the man removed a very long, very sharp dagger
from Lucius back. As he did so, Lucius collapsed onto Aubrielle’s legs in the
throes of death.

Kenneth regained his senses
enough to swoop on Aubrielle, picking her up and kicking Lucius off of her on
one swift motion. She clung to him and he to her. Never in is life had he known
such terror, thanking God in the same breath that he had experienced those
sensations of dread, strong enough that they had forced him to return home. It
all became clear; God and the Fates had been trying to warn him. They had known
something he had not.

 With tears in his eyes, Kenneth
looked at Grendel, still standing over Lucius with the knife in his hand. Aubrielle,
bloodied and weak, also looked at the man who had just saved her life. It
seemed that any words at this moment were sorely inadequate.

Grendel appeared to be in shock
over what he had done. His gaze moved to the knife and, as if it suddenly
repulsed it, he let it slip from his grasp. He looked at Kenneth and then
finally to Aubrielle. A trembling smile creased his lips.

“As I said,” he whispered. “God
did not want me to leave you yet. Now, I think I can leave.”

He quit the room without another
word. Aubrielle, amazed she was still alive, amazed at the turn of events,
buried her face in her husband’s neck and wept.

Kenneth wept with her.

EPILOGUE

1356
A.D
.

“Ken,” Aubrielle was hissing at
him. “What are you doing up here? Our guests are in the hall and await you.”

Kenneth was standing in front of
the long lancet window in the bower he shared with Aubrielle, the fall breeze
blowing cool on his face.  He gazed off across the countryside, watching puffy
gray clouds dance across the soft blue sky.