The Legend (59 page)

       Alec couldn't muster the
energy for their usual banter. His mind, his body, was focused on but one
thought. "I am taking Ali and Toby with me, if for nothing more than to
protect Peyton while I take care of Warrington. I would ask your permission to
acquire their services."

"By all means, Alec,"
Brian swallowed the food in his mouth before he choked on it. "They belong
to you. Sworn to me or not, they have always belonged to you."

Flanking Alec on either side, Ali
and Toby were dressed to the hilt in gleaming armor and mail. Ivy, seated
beside her aunt, left her seat to go to her husband and brother-in-law. Alec
glanced at the woman, his thinly-held control nearly crumbling when he saw the
tears in her eyes.

"You will.... you will bring
her back, won't you? No matter how you find her?" she whispered, falling
into Ali's embrace.

Alec's breathing quickened, but
he forced himself to calm; he had only been able to maintain a handle on his
emotions by convincing himself that his wife was still alive. He simply could
not entertain the alternative.

"I shall return her,
Ivy," he said in a tone that warranted no contradiction. Then he turned to
his father once more. "How is Thia?"

Brian swallowed hard, his
expression washing with grief.

"Pauly says her skull is
broken, and she cannot see. But she lives, although Pauly seems to think she
will not survive the day. Your mother is with her."

Alec's jaw ticked. "Thia was
an accomplice in all of this. I do not know if I can forgive her, but I shall
pray for a painless end to her suffering."

"I tried to warn you but you
would not listen," Jubil whispered. "I tried to tell you, Alec.
Several times. I tried to tell you to beware of the threat from within, to beware
of Greeks bearing gifts. But you ignored me."

For the first time in hours,
Alec's emotionless facade faltered. "You weren't clear, Jubil. Your
warnings were too vague for me to contemplate any action."

"But I warned you!"
Jubil leapt to her feet, agitated and filled with grief. "I told you I
smelled danger, but you did not listen! All I could do was inform you of my
suspicions, of the troubles whispered upon the winds. There was no way I could
tell you for fact that your sister would be the Trojan Horse to your
destruction."

Alec swallowed hard, well
remembering the mumbled warnings of a crazy woman. Christ, he should have
listened to her. She had been right all along, about everything, and he hadn't
paid her the heed deserving of her skills. He continued to stare at the woman
helplessly as she approached him.

"I spoke to your mother of
Thia's overture and, suddenly, all became clear to me. Thia's gift was the
promise of peace. She promised peace between Peyton and herself, and lured your
wife into a trap. She was the Greek of my prophesy, Alec. 'Twas her gift you
were to be wary of."

His expression flickered with
pain. "Had I but known."

Jubil grasped him gently by the
arm, her manner relaxing as she gazed deeply into sky-blue eyes. "Peyton
is your Helena," she murmured. "You would walk through fire to
retrieve her, you would sanction the deaths of thousands if only for a glimpse
of her sweet face. She is your Achilles Heel, Alec, the Keeper of your Soul. You
have always known that."

He closed his eyes against her
earnest face, feeling the impact of her words like a thousand hammer blows. He
lost his breath, caught it, and refocused on the older features.

"I have always known
that," his whisper echoed, hypnotized by her piercing stare.

"And you love her more
deeply than you ever thought possible."

He let out a choked sob,
completely ignoring the room full of people watching him. Tears sprang to his
eyes, glistening on his blond lashes as he looked to Jubil as if she held all
the answers.

"I love her more than
life," he echoed faintly.

Jubil smiled faintly and patted
the powerful knight on his stubbled cheek. Tears dripped from his lashes and
onto her hand.

"Do not weep, sweet
Alec," she murmured. "You may be The Legend, but Peyton's love had
made you immortal. Go and find your wife."

He sighed raggedly, wiping at the
tears that were blinding him. "Is.... can you sense if she is still
alive?" he almost couldn't bring himself to ask.

Jubil paused a moment, staring
deeply into his eyes. Then, slowly, she brought her hand to her lips and licked
the tears that had touched her. "Aye," she replied softly. "She
lives still."

Alec took it as a promise from
God. Without another word, he spun on his heel and quit the room, leaving an
entire hall of royalty and commoners alike reeling in his wake.

***

Two hours after sunrise, Wicken
Fen came into view. A massive expanse of bogs, reed-filled swamps, and other
beautiful but undesirable elements, it was teaming with wildlife and bramble.

Colin entered the parklands from
the northern outskirts, intend on finding the very best spot to discard his
load. Taking his leisure time about it, as his manner had been unhurried since
leaving Blackstone, he picked his way deeper and deeper into the fen.

It never occurred to him that he
was being pursued. Even if his escape had been discovered by now, there was no
one to tell where he had gone. A trip to Wisseyham would happen upon servants
who had not seen their master return; he had been very careful to keep himself
concealed from the few serving wenches they employed, and he certainly had not
brought Peyton into the open expanse of the bailey. The horse, and Peyton, had
remained concealed in the woods.

Furthermore, it never occurred to
him that his father would have betrayed him by giving Alec Summerlin
suggestions as to where he might have gone. His father knew nothing of his
plans; therefore, would have been unable to provide Alec any assistance. Never
in his wildest dreams would he have believed that his father had not only betrayed
him, but had known his son well enough to guess his destination. It was
frightening to imagine that father and son thought so very much alike, evil in
every fashion. It never occurred to him that for every moment he lingered, Alec
Summerlin was closing the gap.

The sun filtered in through the
canopy above, increasing the humidity of the air surrounding him. The smell of
his dirty horse and moldering leaves filled his nostrils and he was suddenly
quite eager to be done with his deed. Far over to his left, he could see a
swampy bog that extended nearly as far as the eye could see.

He made it as close to the bog as
he could before his horse became stuck in the mud and could go no further. 
Turning the horse around, he managed to rein the animal to more solidified
ground before dismounting.

Peyton was still unconscious. He
pulled her off the mount like a sack of grain and deposited her under the
nearest tree. Taking the time to remove the saddle from his horse and provide
the animal with a bit of water, he then proceeded to dig about in his
saddlebags for his dagger. She wasn't dead yet; he had to kill her and be on
his way.

The dagger was long, perfect to
complete the deed in one stroke. He wiped at the blade, examining it, thinking
ahead to the meal he would ingest tonight at a fine inn and lingering on his
approaching voyage. He'd never been to France and looked forward to the
adventure.

The sun was rising steadily and
Colin was eager to get on with what he must do. Moving to Peyton where she lay
prostrate under the tree, he knelt beside her.

The dagger rested in his hand.
"So sorry, love. Well, truthfully, I am not. Your family has be a thorn in
the Warrington's side for many years. 'Tis only right that the crisis come down
to you and I as the surviving heirs," he traced the red hair with the
sharp tip of the dirk, watching the light play off the strands. Beautiful as it
was, he still wasn't remorseful in the least. "Have a grand time in hell,
my lady."

The blade caught the sunlight
with sinister elegance as Colin raised it high. Peyton's white neck was open
and expose, making a perfect target that beckoned to his twisted sense of
revenge. He heard the call, as he was about to answer.

But he never had the chance to
follow through. Suddenly, a balled fist caught him in the groin and the brief
moment of shock that followed was pursued by pain such as he had never known.
It felt as though his testicles had been driven into his throat. Sparks of
agony sent him face first into the soft earth of the fen.

Peyton rolled away from him,
nauseous and dizzy and thoroughly sick. But she was awake, and alive, and she
intended to remain so no matter what it took. The last few uttered words of his
speech had roused her, primed her for the battle that lay ahead. Fear was virtually
unknown; the basic instinct for survival was all she could feel as her muddled
senses attempted to orient themselves.

As she struggled to her knees, a
rotted branch met with her hands. Shaking like a leaf, she clutched the branch
and charged the fallen Colin with the full intent of beating him dead with it.

Colin took two severe blows to
his head before he managed to raise his hand and dislodge the weapon.
Undeterred, Peyton kicked him in the thigh and pounded him with her weak hands,
but he nearly captured her and she scampered into the underbrush, shrieking and
gasping like a madwoman.

Peyton had no idea where she was.
The ground beneath her was lurching and swaying, and it was all she could do to
maintain her footing. Around her, unfamiliar trees loomed and the very earth
she stood upon seemed intent to suck her under. Her delicate green slippers
were instantly wet and dirty.

But she kept moving, away from
Colin and away from his insane ideals of family and vengeance. She stumbled
over exposed roots, scraping her knees and drawing blood, but still she kept
moving. She had to put as much distance as she could between Colin and her
unborn child.

She clutched her stomach,
wondering if the babe had suffered during her ordeal, wondering if she would do
more damage with what was yet to come. Hot tears stung her eyes and bile in her
throat gagged her, but still, she kept running. It was run or die.

She burst through a thicket of
brush, having no idea where she was going, only knowing that she had to find
help. She tripped over something, she did not notice, and ended up on her hands
and knees. Beneath her hand, a sharp thick stick was partially lodged into the
damp ground. With a grunt of effort, she yanked the weapon free and resumed her
panicked run.

With a roar, Colin was suddenly
in her path and she screamed, barely avoiding his vicious grasp. She whirled
away from him, finding new strength in the fear that was flushing her veins,
and tore a wild path through the growth as he staggered after her. His groin injury
was hindering him greatly as he pursued.

Peyton could hear him following,
cursing and snorting as he stumbled through the bramble. Her head was clearing
a bit even if her stomach was still churning, and she was beginning to think
more clearly. Dodging behind a thick tree, she doubled back through a cluster
of thick underbrush and emerged on the other side.

Still clutching the sharp wood,
she found a large branch that would do quite nicely in wreaking severe damage
on Colin's skull. Peyton crouched low to the ground, trying to quiet her
breathing so she could hear her enemy. So she could hear Death as it
approached. Colin was about, somewhere, and she was intent on harming him
before he could do her mortal damage. He might have been larger and stronger,
but she was more intelligent. She would win this battle. She had to.

"Peyton!" Colin
shouted. "I know you can hear me! Show yourself and I shall be swift with
my justice. If I have to hunt you down, I shall make you suffer. I swear
it!"

Head clearing, stomach settling,
Peyton remained still and silent. Colin stomped about, moving away from her as
he went about his search.

She waited until he moved off
before attempting to follow. Stealthily, she pursued the storming, cursing man,
making certain to remain far behind him and out of sight. Coming through a
particularly thick patch of brush, she tore her slipper on a prickly branch and
nearly tripped.

Irritably, she ripped the shoes
off her feet and tossed them aside. The ground beneath her feet was freezing,
but she ignored the discomfort. It was minor to the overall situation.

The sun over head provided
limited light within the heavy canopy of trees. Colin was backtracking,
returning to his steed, and Peyton stayed within the sheltering cover of the
undergrowth as she followed his movements. 

When it became apparent that
Colin was intent on waiting her out, eager to take advantage of a movement or a
mistake, she sat on her bottom in the brush and refused to budge.    If he was
going to wait, then so was she.

Wait for death to claim one of
them.

CHAPTER
TWENTY

The sun traversed the afternoon
sky with painful slowness, reminding Peyton with every passing second of her
discomfort and hunger and fear.  But as long as she held Colin in her sights,
she could ignore the obvious in lieu of self-preservation. Nothing mattered but
keeping him at bay until she could move away from him, unheard. She began to
pray fervently for nightfall, knowing that her only chance to escape him would
be while he slept.

Colin was leaning leisurely
against a tree, the evil-looking dagger clutched in his gloved palm. Absently,
he hacked at the bark of the tree, pondering the bog before him. Peyton sat,
still as stone, and watched every move.

"Peyton?" he suddenly
called. "I know you are out there, listening to me. Watching me. How does
it feel, knowing it will only be a matter of time before you die?"

He was met with the chirp of
birds, the singing of the wind through the trees.  Smiling as though he were
laughing at a clever remark, he pushed himself off the tree and turned toward
the overgrowth. Peyton swore he was looking right at her.

"Do you know that my father
took your crazed aunt's virginity?" he said carelessly, trying to provoke
an angry response. "Several years ago, in fact. He found her eating leaves
in the forest and took his pleasure with her. That is what your aunt does,
isn't it? Eat leaves and brew witches potions? There's not one person in the barony
that believes she is sane."

The echo of his own voice greeted
him. He maintained his thin smile and paced about, hacking at anything he came
close to with the dagger he clutched.

"And your husband. Oh,
excuse me. I meant
The
Legend," he sneered mockingly. "Strange
that a coward should carry such a prestigious title. He is certainly not worthy
of such a reputation. From what I have heard, he fled the crusades in terror
and returned home to breed horses and master needlepoint."

In the bushes, Peyton was red
with fury but she was wise enough to know that Colin was attempting to lure her
from her safe haven and she struggled to keep her mouth closed. 

But it was growing increasingly
difficult. The ground was cold and her feet were frozen, her head ached
terribly and her stomach was quivering. Her exhaustion, fed by her other
symptoms, threatened to overwhelm her. She wondered darkly if she would be able
to stay awake long enough to escape him.

"I even heard rumor once
that he and Ali were lovers," Colin leaned against the tree again, picking
his teeth casually. "As Thia possessed strange tastes, so did her brother.
His tastes run to dark meat. Tell me, Lady Summerlin, have you been forced to
share your husband with his black bitch?"

Peyton nearly lost her composure
then. She bit her lip so hard to keep from replying that she sampled her own
blood. Still, she kept silent. She had no choice.

He laughed softly and dug into
his pack, bringing forth cheese and bread. Peyton caught sight of the food and
realized she was starving. He ate loudly, enjoying every bite, and Peyton's eyes
stung with tears as she watched and listened. Her misery was growing by the
second.

Misery for herself. Misery for
Alec. She'd never told him she loved him, not once. True, she had confessed her
feelings to Nigel and Alec had heard her, but she'd never told him face to
face. She was desperate to see him again, to tell him how she had always loved
him. She couldn't remember when the irritation ceased and the love began, for
it seemed as if she had loved him from the start.       If God would only grant
her the opportunity to hold him one last time, she would be content for all
eternity.

The sun galloped across the
bright blue expanse of sky, approaching late afternoon. Nightfall would soon be
upon them and Peyton began to seriously worry about her stability. Her fatigued
body was beginning to scream for release and she knew it would only be a matter
of time before her mind would no longer be able to control the physical need.   But
for as long as she was able, she would fight. Tears spilled down her cheeks as
her hand moved over her belly, comforting the child within. God help her, her
son would grow to know his father. Her own selfish reasons aside, she had to
live for the unborn heir.

Night was nearly upon them.
Peyton's limbs were frozen from hours of sitting upon the wet, cold ground and
her eyes were attempting to gain a measure of rest. The lids would droop
closed, only to be startled open again by Peyton's inner sense of
self-preservation. Colin had not moved from his post by the tree, and she would
make sure that she kept him in full view until he succumbed to the exhaustion
they were both experiencing.

She prayed that Colin would find
his rest first. She wasn't sure how much longer she could remain strong. But
her exhaustion eventually proved to be too much for the new mother to take - sleep
claimed her and she was hardly unaware of the state. She was unaware when she
crashed softly to the ground, unaware when Colin rose, his ears piqued at the
faint sound. She wasn't aware when he began to hunt for her in earnest,
stalking her like a cat. She only became aware when someone grabbed her by the
hair.

Instantly awake, Peyton let out a
howl that reverberated off the trees. Colin had her by the hair, pulling her
from her protective thicket, scratching her tender white flesh as he dragged
her through the thorns and branches. His grunts of effort mingled with her
screams, filling the fen like an eerie symphony.

Peyton was full of vigor, of
fight. She swung her fists at him, kicking and biting and aiming for his soft
groin or his neck. He struck at her, feebly, for it was difficult to strike and
maintain his hold on her hair. She was a wild thing, an animal fighting for
survival, and Colin was amazed at the strength she exhibited.

Nonetheless, he managed to pull
her out into the clearing that overlooked the bog. His dirk was lodged in the
tree trunk and he struggled toward it, dragging his fighting quarry across the
cold, dark earth. Peyton dug her heels in, driving her fists in to his soft
abdomen when he moved too close to her. Gasping, he slapped her across the
face.

She slapped him back, and kicked
him, and screamed and cursed and howled like an unearthly being. She knew he
was moving for the dagger wedged into the tree and she used all of her strength
to keep him from reaching it. It did not matter that he was nearly pulling her
bald; the loss of a chunk of hair was insignificant to the loss of her life.

Colin was stronger and larger
and, inevitably, was gaining ground towards the tree. Peyton had resorted to
scratching, drawing blood on the hand that gripped her hair as he cursed and
slugged at her with balled fists. Still, she did not give up.
She had to
fight
. 

It took a small eternity of
screaming and fighting, but he managed to drag her close enough to the tree
where he was able to touch the hilt of the dagger with his fingertips. His arm
was extended as long as it could go, straining, pleading, begging to acquire
the instrument of murder. He could almost reach it.

Colin was so involved in his
quest that he failed to hear the approaching thunder. Peyton was so caught up
in her struggle that she neglected to feel the trembling of the ground. All she
knew was that her frozen feet were numb, her body was near collapse, and she
had bloodied her hands fighting Colin.

Distant thunder rolled across the
fen, lured by the loud screams of a desperate woman. The advance of myth,
mortal, and man combined. The Legend had arrived.

Colin was the first to realize
the advance. He paused suddenly, his senses failing to believe what his eyes
were undeniably envisioning. The largest knight he had ever seen was bearing
down on him, flanked by two equally large warriors. They were laden down with
so much armor that it was impossible to distinguish any identifiable
characteristics other than Death.

Colin knew who they were.
Somehow, some way, Alec had found them. His mind was whirling with frenzied
thoughts, coming so fast and furiously that he barely had time to grasp them.
For the moment, he could barely comprehend anything other than being rid of the
banshee within his grasp. It did not seem to matter than Alec would witness his
action; all that mattered was being rid of her. The last punishment would be
handed out and Alec would witness it.

Colin stopped attempting to drag
Peyton by the hair. Instead, he balled his fist and swung as hard as he could,
catching her in the temple. Peyton collapsed, falling against him. The ground
shook underneath his feet as he swept her into his arms, struggling with every
ounce of strength toward the murky bog.

***

Alec saw him carrying his wife's
limp form toward the bottomless muck. Midas was already moving as fast as he
could go, but still, Alec drove his spurs into his silver sides until they
bled. He had to make it to her. Christ, he was so close he could taste her and
he refused to succumb to the wild panic that was threatening. But even as he
raced toward the two figures, he knew he would not be in time.

Peyton hit the muddy water of the
bog with a loud splash. A second later, Alec was upon Colin as the man raced
back toward his charger, desperate to retrieve his blade. Toby and Ali
immediately reined their destriers at the edge of the muddy pit. Ali dismounted
first and started to plunge into the cloudy water when Toby halted him.

"You do not know how deep it
is!" he shouted. "Give me your hand!"

Ali grasped the extended
gauntlet, plunging feet first into the muddy mess. He sank up to his thighs,
desperately searching underneath the surface for a scrap of cloth, a bit of
hair, a hand.
Anything.
But his urgent grasp met with leave and twigs,
and he continued to descend as the water level moved up to his groin, his hips,
his waist. Deeper and deeper he went and, still, there was nothing. No sign, no
Peyton.

He let go of Toby's hand and tore
off his helm, tossing it to the shore. He was vaguely aware of Alec shouting
his name, but he ignored him. He had to find Peyton.

Armor and all, Ali dove
underneath the surface of the bog.

Alec came to rest beside Colin's
charger. In spite of the fact that he hadn't worn armor in twelve years, he
moved with the grace of a cat, as if the plates of metal were an insignificant
drain on his incredible strength. Sword unsheathed before Midas had come to a
halt, he dismounted the steed with unparalleled agility and charged toward his
fumbling nemesis. Colin barely had time to move into a defensive position
before Alec brought his sword down in a crushing strike.

The blow sent Colin to his knees.
The horses danced about as he scampered underneath his mount in an attempt to
escape The Legend's wrath. Alec kicked the horse aside and charged after his
enemy, his mind torn between Ali's rescue and his own attempt to exact
vengeance. He thought he shouted to Ali, once, but he couldn't be sure. Colin
was up in an offensive stance and Alec found himself fully focused on the
challenge.

It did not matter than Alec
hadn't wielded a sword since he had gutted his brother in the heat of battle.
From the moment he had reclaimed his weapon it was as if it had never left his
hand. As if it was a physical extension of his body. When Colin attacked him
with a strong downparry, Alec responded with a swift movement of his own that
sent Colin reeling into a thicket of holly.

Alec followed him into the brush,
desperately torn between his wife's rescue and the justice he must dispense. He
knew, for his own peace of mind, that he must do what was necessary. He would
have to trust his wife to Ali and Toby.

As he trusted them with his own
life, he would have to trust them with Peyton's. At the moment, there was no
other alternative.

Alec wasn't in the mood to test
his dormant skills. He was determined to bring about a quick kill and when
Colin regained his footing, Alec plowed into him with unearthly power. Thrust,
parry, thrust, parry.... on and on it went. The very air trembled with the
collision of their might.

Colin was powerful and Alec was
somewhat surprised that he had been able to hold him off thusfar. Not many
people had lasted so long against The Legend. But Colin's skill was of little consequence;
Alec used his intelligence, something Colin had been unable to do in his
fright, and managed to corner the man into a particularly thick portion of
bramble. It was a stroke of tactics, of pure skill. Of sweet revenge.

Colin realized too late what Alec
had done, and in his panic, worked himself into a fighting frenzy that merely
succeeded in weakening him further. Alec merely went through the movements,
meeting Colin's thrusts, knowing the end was near.        He could have waited
for the man to simply tire himself out, but he did not want to wait.

Colin lashed out with a skilled
thrust, which Alec met deftly. Using his power, he shoved his opponent
backwards and both swords ended up wedged into the bark of a thick tree. Colin
grunted out of fright and frustration, attempting to dislodge his weapon even
as Alec held it firm. The Legend was in control.