Tapestries 03 - Woven Dreams (21 page)

“The men will be assembling in the yard in a few moments.” Jane hurried forward, holding out the clean clothes. She stumbled to a halt when she saw the tapestry. “Oh my God.” Her eyes flew to Genny’s. “Did you make this?”

“Yes.” Genny stepped back as Jane moved forward like someone in a trance, the tapestry luring her toward it. The other woman reached out a trembling hand and traced her fingers over the fabric.

“You said you made this?”

“Yes. It took me three years, but I made it.” Jane shook her head, as if in disbelief. “I have seen the magical tapestry.” She turned to stare at Genny, speculation in her eyes. “It is almost identical to this one.” It was Genny’s turned to stare in disbelief. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” Jane countered. “Maybe you are more of a tapestry bride than you think.” A roar reached them through the open window, reminding them of the fight to come.

“Then I’d better hurry.” Genny grabbed the garments and hurried back into the bathing area. When she emerged a minute later, the robe was gone and she was decently dressed again.

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However, the clothing was unlike any she’d ever worn before. As promised, Jane had provided her with a pair of leather pants that were a bit baggy on her, but she laced them tight. The tunic laced up the front and covered her to her knees. Its long sleeves fell over her hands, but she rolled them back until they were about two-thirds of the way down her arms. They didn’t fit properly, but they were extremely comfortable. At this point, Genny didn’t care what they looked like. They covered her. That was all that mattered.

Jane was still waiting when she went back into the bedroom. Genny found her short boots and yanked them on. “I’m ready,” she announced.

Jane stared at her for the longest time, then toward the tapestry again before nodding decisively. “I think you are. Follow me.” The two of them hurried back down the stairs and outside the castle.

The noise and the crowd gathered in a lower area of the grounds, near the outer wall, left no doubt as to where the fight would be. Genny began to scan the large group of people, searching for Jarmon and Garrik. With Jane in the lead, the crowd parted easily, letting them pass. Her feet quickened as they ate up the distance. She had to talk to Jarmon before the fight began.

Suddenly, he was before her, but it was a Jarmon she’d never truly seen before. This was the warrior. The one who’d not only survived a near-fatal injury, but had risen above it, becoming stronger and more powerful than ever.

His hair, locks of white and blond, practically glowed in the sunshine. Pale blue eyes were grim and steady. His chest was bare, muscles gleaming with a fine sheen of perspiration. Heavy metal bands wrapped around his upper arms and wrists. Leather pants hugged his strong calves and thighs. A sword belt was clasped around his thick waist, holding his huge sword at the ready. Leather boots covered his feet and she expected that he had a knife tucked into one of them.

But it was the expression on his face that proclaimed him a warrior. He was confident in his abilities, ready to meet his opponent. He wasn’t cocky as several of her brothers were, but self-assured. This was a man who knew his capabilities and knew them well. She only hoped that they were enough to defeat her eldest brother.

Garrik was similarly attired and standing just beside and slightly behind his brother. But she only had eyes for Jarmon. It was him that she had hurt. Shoving her doubts aside, she slowly walked toward him. His expression gave no hint as to what he was thinking. She was used to seeing warmth in his eyes. Now she saw nothing.

“I’m sorry.” She had to glance away from his penetrating gaze. Scuffing the toe of her boot in the dirt, she gathered her courage and forced herself to continue. “I didn’t mean to imply that you couldn’t win. I’m just worried. Leon won’t fight fairly. I know he won’t.” Now that she’d started, the words kept tumbling out.

She turned toward Garrik. “Don’t trust Harmid. I assume he’s Leon’s second.” Garrik nodded, confirming her assumption. “He may try something, so don’t take your eyes off him.”

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“Genny.” Jarmon’s voice was low, but she ignored it.

“I’m not sure if my two youngest brothers will do anything, but you should have Zaren and Bador watch them. Did they bring any of their men-at-arms with them? They will need watching as well.”

“Genny.” This time a massive, muscled arm wrapped around her, pulling her back against a hard chest. “Everything will be fine.” She nodded. “I know.” And if she kept telling herself that often enough, she might actually believe it.

Jarmon’s sigh was so deep it ruffled the hair on the top of her head. “What am I going to do with you?”

Affection and something else tinged his words and she tipped her head back to look up at him. “I don’t know. What are you going to do with me?” Heat flared in his eyes as something hard poked into her lower back. Jarmon was aroused. “I can think of many, many things I would like to do, sweet Genny.” She felt hot and flustered. How could she be so aroused in a crowd of people and at a time like this? Her confusion must have shown on her face because he eased away from her. She grabbed his arm before he pulled all the way back. “Be careful. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I’ll be careful. After all, you haven’t given us our answer yet.” Bending down, he dropped a quick kiss on her lips. “We want to know which of us you’re going to marry.” In the blink of an eye, the indulgent lover was gone, replaced once again by the implacable warrior as he stepped away.

“Don’t worry, Genny. No matter what happens, you’ll be safe.” Garrik dropped a hard kiss on her lips before following his brother. Like Jarmon, his expression changed from one moment to the next and his warrior side emerged.

“But I don’t want my safety at the cost of yours.” Her whispered words were lost on the breeze.

Zaren stepped up beside her. “Come and stand over here.” He led her to the far side of the ring of people.

She could see Leon and her other three brothers at the far end. All of them ignored her, except Radnor. He gave her a quick nod before turning away. Situating herself firmly beside Jane and the rest of the Bakra family, Genny left no doubt as to where her allegiance lay.

Leon stepped forward, his sword drawn and bloodlust in his eyes. He was a massive man, who in spite of being a bit past his prime was a fierce warrior whose fighting prowess was legendary. He as also as vicious as a cornered animal and would do whatever it took to win. He glanced at her and sneered. Her blood ran cold, but she did not flinch away from him. Tipping her chin up, she squared her shoulders and faced him as he sauntered toward her.

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“So proud,” he taunted. “That won’t last long once I get you home. The Luther brothers still want you, hard as that is to believe.” The crowd behind her murmured restlessly.

A cold sweat broke out on her brow, but she met her brother’s gaze, refusing to back down. Quick as a snake, he struck, backhanding her. Her head snapped to the side and she could taste blood in her mouth.

“Craddock!” The bellow silenced everyone. Jarmon stepped into the center of the ring of people. “Do you always fight those who are weaker than yourself? Those you know you can beat?” he goaded.

Leon whirled away from her and stalked toward his younger opponent. “It is good to win. And I will win, boy.” He threw out the insult. “I beat you once. Thought I’d killed you. This time I’ll finish the job.”

Genny swallowed hard and felt Jane place a comforting hand on her shoulder. A movement caught her eye and she could see Garrik slowly easing over to stand near her brother, Harmid. She gave a quick glance around the open field and found Zaren and Bador were already in position next to her two youngest brothers. Several other Bakra men were stationed near the half-dozen Craddock Keep men-at-arms who’d come with her brothers.

Jarmon laughed at Leon’s insult. “You fought a boy last time, Craddock. Let’s see how you fare against a man.”

Leon lunged quickly, his blade sweeping upward. The move was deadly, designed to gut his opponent. Jarmon countered it easily, swiping the blade aside at the last second. Leon grinned. “At least this time you’ll give me a bit of a challenge. It was so boring last time we met.”

“Glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Jarmon replied casually before he brought his long blade arching downward toward Leon.

Genny’s breath caught in her throat as the fighting began in earnest. Sparks flew as their blades skated over one another. Metal flashed in the sun and the sound of the fight echoed around them. Dust filled the air while they circled around each other, Leon moving quickly with Jarmon following with his distinctive loping gait. They grunted with the strain of their blows. Over and over they struck at one another, each able to counter just in time to avoid being injured or maimed.

Jarmon stumbled slightly on his bad leg before righting himself. The crowd gasped.

Genny slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a scream. The last thing she wanted to do was to distract him. Sweat trickled into her eyes and she blinked to clear her vision.

Every muscle in her body was pulled tight and she flinched with every blow that was struck.

The crowd faded into the background. All Genny could see was Leon and Jarmon.

One man she despised, the other she loved and only one of them would survive the afternoon. The heat became oppressive as the fight continued. The world took on a 111

surreal feeling. Two men were fighting to the death over her. How could such a thing happen? And when would it end?

Her stomach churned. What if the unthinkable happened and Leon won? She curled her fingers inward, digging them into her palms as she forced that thought away. She’d rather die than be given in marriage to the Luther brothers.

The long minutes dragged on and Leon, sensing his opponent’s weakness, began to mercilessly hammer him with blow after blow. Jarmon blocked them all but seemed unable to return them. Leon laughed as he struck again. She could sense her brother’s growing triumph as he continued to beat at his younger opponent.

“I suppose I could spare you,” Leon gasped as he lashed his sword out again.

Jarmon’s blade deflected the blow, barely. “But I won’t.” Genny knew Leon could taste victory and was already gloating over his win. “Your family will have to bury you this time.”

Leon was panting heavily now. The heavy fighting had taken its toll on both men.

Sweat poured down their bodies and their actions were slower now than when they’d first started. Genny prayed over and over, willing her strength into Jarmon. He wasn’t managing to get in any blows as he was strictly on the defensive. Her fingers were clenched so hard that they began to hurt. She ignored the pain, unable to take her eyes from the scene unfolding in front of her.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Jarmon’s sword flicked under Leon’s guard. Blood seeped down the front of Leon’s pants where Jarmon’s blade had struck him. Hope surged within her as Jarmon began to fight back.

Jarmon blinked the sweat from his eyes. He longed to swipe it away but didn’t dare. It had taken him quite a while to lull his opponent into a false sense of security.

Leon had wasted precious strength pounding away on him without actually hurting him. He was amazed that the older man didn’t realize he was being toyed with. But then, Leon had always been overconfident and thought he knew his opponent. He saw only Jarmon’s handicaps. He had no idea of just how much he’d changed since the last time they’d met on the battlefield.

Sensing that his opponent had expended most of his energy, Jarmon let loose his pent-up power and began to fight in earnest. He struck low first, opening a wound on Leon’s leg. The other man bellowed like a wounded boar and attacked, his movements slow and sloppy.

Jarmon struck again. This time, blood began to flow down Leon’s sword arm.

Dancing out of the way in time to avoid Leon’s blade, Jarmon drove his sword forward and up, opening a wound on the older man’s chest. Keeping his feet moving and his body balanced, Jarmon fought with skill and determination.

He blocked out all else but his opponent in front of him. He trusted his brothers to keep the fight fair. Control was his biggest problem. The urge to just attack Leon was overwhelming. The casual way that he’d backhanded Genny was a chilling reminder of 112

what her everyday life must have been like. Strategy was the key. Strategy and control.

It had been difficult, but he’d allowed Leon to wear himself down and think he was winning. Now it was time to finish this.

Drawing on all the hard hours of training that it had taken to recover from his injuries, Jarmon found the strength to fight even harder. Letting out a roar, he raised his sword and struck hard and swift. The blade slipped beneath Leon’s guard, which was weakening with each blow. The deadly edge of the sword caught two of his fingers, severing them.

Leon howled, his sword dropping from his bloody hand. He fell to his knees, staring in horror at his fingers that rolled in the dirt in front of him. Jarmon held the tip of his sword to his neck, but he didn’t even seem to notice. “It is done,” he proclaimed.

The crowd cheered. Jarmon looked toward Harmid, Leon’s second. His face was pale, his lips curled up in a sneer, but he nodded.

Satisfied, Jarmon began to walk away. Genny’s eyes landed on him and she began to smile. He could see the tears in her eyes and couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms and comfort her.

In a split second, happiness turned to horror.

Acting purely on instinct, Jarmon whirled around and struck out, impaling Leon on his sword a second before the other man would have driven his weapon into Jarmon’s back.

His eyes widened, his lips moved. “This can’t be happening,” Leon moaned.

The only thing holding Leon upright was the strength of Jarmon’s sword arm. He jerked the blade upward. Leon gasped, blood bubbling from his lips. “Genny is free.

You shall never hurt her again.” Yanking back his blade, he watched Leon sway before pitching facedown in the dirt.

A woman screamed and several men shouted. Jarmon clutched his sword, ready to face the new threat. He was just in time to see Garrik’s blade sever Harmid’s hand from his arm. The hand dropped to the ground, a dagger still in its grasp. Harmid screamed as he fell to his knees, clutching the end of his arm. More blood poured from a shoulder wound.