The Lethal Flame (Flame Series) (9 page)

What of Damien?  He had to be dead.  He wouldn’t allow her to stay here after she saved him.  Or was she giving the man too much credit.  What if the battle hadn’t been over when she was brought down here?  What if it was the people of Haltwhistle who still held the keep and no one knew she was here.  She fought the urge to scream.  It wasn’t as if the thought hadn’t occurred to her.  Her thoughts streamed from one into another as she tried to keep her sanity.  If she stopped and allowed the sound of the silence and the rats entrance into her mind she would go crazy. 

She slid herself up the wall behind her and forced her legs to hold her as she took the weight off her shoulders.  At least when Damien had chained her he did so so she could fight the rats.  She really had no defense except her legs but it felt as if they had cut them to pieces with their claws as she had kicked at them.  When she slept she had nightmares she could see their beady red eyes but in reality she never saw them for there was no light at all down here.  Anything could be creeping around in the dark and she would not know it.

Something brushed her ankle and she screamed.  Relief washed over her it was just a rat and she realized she had reached a level she did not think was possible.  If she had the use of her hands would she be able catch one of them?  How long had Damien and Cyrille been kept in their dungeon?  She should have asked more questions but she never dreamed she would ever need to know how to survive in one. 

“I’m here!” she called, as a light appeared down the corridor.  “Help me!”  Did her voice carry far enough?  The light didn’t move.  “I’m here.” She called again watching it coming toward her.  Was it coming toward her?  Yes.  No.  It was gone.  Just gone.  She turned and with the last of her strength she struck the wall and sank to her knees, her hands once again above her head but the pressure on her arms was not as painful as her mind playing tricks on her.  She was going mad.

The brush against her cheek brought her awake.  She was free, in a room full of light and there was Damien in front of her, rubbing her cheek with a gentle stroke.  His gray-green eyes looked softly at her, his lips smiled.  She reached for him but her hands wouldn’t move.  She tried to speak but no words escaped and a vile smell invaded her senses.  Her eyes snapped open to darkness and for a muddled moment she had no idea where she was.  Then she shot to her feet, the rat on her shoulder clinging to her.  Her hands were too snug for her to pull it off.  She slammed her shoulder into the wall and felt it release its hold. 

Pain exploded through her body as she fell back to a crouch.  Was she only dreaming of the rat she wondered as she shook off the fog clouding her mind?  A light appeared down the corridor.  She refused to call out to it.  It grew, bigger and bigger.  She blinked, no, it was small again.  She closed her eyes and prayed it would stop.  She opened her eyes again and saw it was still there.  Could it really be someone looking for her?  What if it was a spark from the fire and the walls above were burning.  Was that smoke she smelled?  It burned her eyes and she found it difficult to breath.  She staggered to her feet, staring at the light.  It was coming closer; it was a torch, ever closer.  Her eyes burned as she strained to see it and then it was gone. 

“Damn it!” she screamed at the top of her lungs but if no one was close they would not have heard it.   Damn Cyrille, she thought slamming her back into the wall and sliding down it.  Damien would have another rebel to count to their precious King.  Damn him too she thought.  Damn them all, everyone that moved throughout time to put her here now in this dungeon.  Her chest filled with sobs she was too tired to release.

The light, there was more than one.  Dear God!  She could smell the smoke now, it was choking her.  She coughed, her lungs filling with it.  She could feel the heat, it burned right over top her.  She jumped to her feet, gulping in great gasps.  Where was the heat, the smoke?   For that matter where were the lights, the sparks.  Where were the damn sparks?  “Set it on fire,” she urged them above as if they could hear her pitiful croaking voice.  She banged the manacles against the stone.  “Set it on fire,” she called again and again until her voice dried up and she collapsed exhausted.

The slicing pain in her shoulders awoke her.  She raised her head but no longer had the will to ease her pain.  It just took more strength and she just wanted to sleep until the end came.  She closed her eyes again but they shot open immediately.  Was that a scraping sound?  It wasn’t a rat.  Her heart pounded in her chest, in her ears to the point she feared she would not hear what was coming.  The light, it was coming at her again.  In her mind she screamed at it to go away, to leave her alone and let her die.  In the short time she had been here she had learned God was not a merciful one and it was no different now for it didn’t go away but pretended to grow again.  It grew to cast her in its light and she smelled the acrid stench of the pine burning. 

She heard scuffling but could care less that the rats were moving in on her.  Her time was near.  She prayed it was near but somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it still had not been long enough.  Her shoulders sagged down, pain wrenched through them as her hands fell into her lap, the manacles gone.  Her cheek fell against the cool stone and she willed the light to go away again as it surrounded her, driving into her skull. 

“Keri,” the voice broke through her haze.  Something was touching her and she had the urge to surrender to it.  Hands, hands had her by the shoulders straightening her.  She lifted her head and saw Damien with his gray-green eyes looking into her face with concern etched on his brow.  He draped a cloak around her, pulling it around her shoulders. The-man-on-the-gray-horse came for her she thought joyfully as he lifted her from the ground.

He took a couple of steps and faltered.  She saw then why the light had been so bright.  Cyrille and Edwin had come with him.  Cyrille reached a hand out and Damien knocked it away straightening again with her in his arms.  Damien made it nearly to the steps when he staggered again.  This time a second set of strong arms scooped her up and she found herself looking up at Cyrille’s hooded face.  She tried to struggle against him but it was useless.  “Lead the way Commander,” Cyrille said to his brother once Damien had straightened and the color had returned to his face.

The procession continued with Cyrille following Damien and Edwin bringing up the rear.  The bright light of day greeted her, threatening to pierce her skull, making her parched throat ache even more if it were possible.  Up the steps, into the keep, up the steps, along the corridor and into a chamber where Cyrille sat her down by the hearth pulling the cloak he had draped around her closer about her before he moved away. 

He followed Damien and Edwin back out the door and it was just a matter of minutes before a flood of servants came into the room.  Some carrying a tub between them and others were carrying steaming buckets of water.  They cast weary glances her way but no one spoke and soon the room was empty all except her and the inviting bath.  She was on her feet and taking shaky steps toward it when the door opened and Lottie came in.

Keri wanted to cry when she saw her old friend.  The only thing that was left before Bryson had come into her life and it had become a nightmare.  The woman had supported her and tried to hone her to be an obedient wife but Keri was not as forgiving and tolerant as Lottie.  The robust woman rushed toward her and probably would have thrown her arms around her if she hadn’t been so filthy and bruised.

“How are the children?” 

“They’re just fine.  It’s about time they let me see you,” Lottie said not missing a step as she prodded Keri toward the steaming bath.

Once she got the younger woman settled in the tub Lottie filled her in on the children, how they were doing after being displaced from their home and watching their father die. The children had been allowed free run of Haltwhistle since Cyrille had secured the castle.  Little Waverly was won over by the dashing young squire Edwin and tried to put herself at his side every chance she got.  Kennet however had not forgotten his mother had fought against these people and was still missing her from his life.  He had softened somewhat but Lottie reported he still worried over his mother’s safety.  She reported no rumors had followed them from Langley and Keri thanked God for that favor, perhaps the largest of all.

The older woman helped her lady to wash, dry then bandaged her hands and tended to her other wounds before brushing out her hair finishing by pulling the sides back to keep it out of her eyes since she couldn’t brush it from her face herself.  After her task was accomplished Lottie excused herself, letting her know she was sent only to see to Keri’s needs then she was to return to the children. 

Exhausted she lay down on the bed and burrowed underneath the covers.  Her eyes had just closed when the door opened and she turned to see Cyrille standing in the doorway.  In his hands he held a gown, not as extravagant as a lady of a house would wear but it was far better than that of one of the servants.  He shoved the door closed behind him.  Juggling the gown he reached a hand up and pulled the hood from his head.  He hesitated before advancing to the bed as she slowly set up, her body at an end of the torment it could take.

The man came all the way to the bed and laid the gown across her lap then stiffly stooped beside her on the wooden floor.  “If I had known you were protecting my brother I would have treated you like a queen,” the deep voice said.   His gray-green eye pleaded with her to forgive his transgression.  She ventured a weak nod and then sighed, taking her hands in his large scarred ones Cyrille kissed the backs of them.  He then stood and helped her to don the dress.

The brown dress was meant for someone larger than herself.  Cyrille did the best he could with strips of leather but she felt like a child by the time she took his arm for support and allowed him to lead her from the chamber.

As soon as they entered the hall her vision was filled with her children.  They saw her, screeched and made a mad dash to her, nearly knocking her over in their excitement.  It took a few moments to realize the support of Cyrille’s arm was no longer there and he had faded into the shadows of the hall.  Damien, who had been sitting beside her children on the dais stood and walked toward her.  He plucked Waverly up and sat her on the crook of his arm and she giggled with glee. 

“The food has just arrived.  Please join us at the table,” Damien said holding out his free arm. 

Kennet skipped beside them and around them excitedly chatting about all the exciting new places at Haltwhistle.  Damien sat Waverly down first then helped Keri into the chair beside her.

“Edwin tells me you saved Sir Damien’s life,” Kennet declared bluntly standing before her.

Keri did not know exactly how to answer her son.  She had indeed saved Damien, the man who had burned her home, the man who had killed the father of her children.

“I did,” she finally replied.

“Isn’t he the enemy?” Kennet persisted.

“Yes,” Damien quickly answered for her.  “There is always a winner and a loser, and no matter what side you chose you fight against the enemy.  But when you do not have to fight you do not have enemies”

Brows the same brown as his mother’s scrunched together in confusion.  “Think on that while you eat,” Damien ordered her son who happily complied and skipped over to the squire’s table.

“I told you your children were safe,” Damien said, his eyes looking over his men who crowded into the small hall.

“I thank you for your mercy.”

Stone cold eyes bore into her when he turned her way.  “It is not merciful to spare children.  It is right.”  He turned away to pull his
plate closer.

“What happened to your hands?” Waverly asked slipping over into Keri’s lap.  

“They just have some cuts on them, they’ll be okay,” she assured her, settling her daughter more comfortably in her lap.

“My Lady,” Damien said offering her a chunk of meat.  Her stomach lurched in anticipation as she devoured the piece of venison.  Lottie came to collect the children and Damien paused in his own eating to feed her.

Keri ate of the extravagant meal until she thought she would burst.  She listened to the conversation buzzing around her as she drank her ale, her eyes growing heavy.  She found herself sagging against Damien twice before he stood and helped her to her feet.  His hand stayed on her elbow, supporting her all the way to the lord’s chamber.  All the way up to the bed he pulled the covers back and guided her underneath them.  She was asleep before he closed the door behind himself.

Chapter 5

“Keep your sword up,” Damien coached when Kennet dropped his wooden sword under Damien’s light blow.  The boy brought his sword up again and faced off with Damien and the wooden one he held. 

Around them steel sounded on steel, as his men pitted their skills against one another.  He didn’t know why the boy’s plea to fight with him had made him smile.  The boy laughed and squealed in delight as they pared and his reaction spurred Damien on to encourage more from him.

In the end the experienced knight’s skills couldn’t withstand Kennet’s and the boy stood over him his wooden blade pressed to the man’s throat as Damien lay on the ground.

“Yield Sir Damien,” the boy ordered triumphantly. 

With a roar Damien jumped up, grabbed the boy and tossed him in the air making him squeal.  The knight spun the kid around then set the boy on his feet who giggled as he took a couple wobbly missteps.  Once the boy got his balance he charged Damien in what appeared a last ditch effort at victory, which Damien gave him.

He had to wonder at himself.  No one had ever relinquished a victory for him when he was a kid.  No knight ever spared a moment to spar with him with a wooden sword.  As a matter of fact he didn’t dare ask lest he find it laid up against the side of his head for proposing something as ludicrous as to waste a grownups time.

Lying on his back he watched the gleeful swings of Kennet’s wooden sword above him and a level of peace came over him for the first time.

“Mamma!” Kennet called bounding away.  “I have beaten Sir Damien,” the boy said proudly. 

Damien sat up and watched Lady Kerri walk toward him with her children.  Waverly clung to her dress, the same awful brown thing from last night while Kennet whirled around her brandishing his sword.

Reaching his side Keri nearly knocked Waverly over as the girl came to an abrupt halt to watch Edwin spar with Cyrille’s squire Devlin.

“Good morning to you Sir Damien,” she said offering him a slight bow, caught in the confusion of one recently stripped of a higher status than a mere knight, before plopping herself down on the grass beside him.  What lady behaved as this one, he wondered as she grinned at her daughter who still stood, her hands clasped together riveted on the two boys a short distance away.

“What will become of her?” Keri asked urgently her voice so low pitched it took a moment for her question to register.

“Richard will find you a new husband and when Waverly comes of age he will find her one as well.”

She looked up at him with concern etched plainly across her brow.  “Like my marriage arranged with Bryson?” In her eyes Damien could see the girl who had lived one of the worst such an experience could bring.  The first time he took her, had he been the first one, had he been gentle?  Sympathy filled him for the woman who sat in the grass beside him.

How normal the moment seemed.  Keri beside him, close enough to touch, and a little girl with young eyes filled with love nearby.  The boy was just a few steps down the little knoll mimicking the movements of two of the knights.  Was this what a family felt like?

“Riders approach,” one of his men yelled from the tower.

Just like that the moment was over.  “Take the children inside,” he told Lady Keri then dismissed them.

“Prepare to lower the gate!” he yelled as he moved toward the keep’s walls to prepare them for battle.  Damien did not know who approached but he knew in this land of rebels whoever rode to his gate was his enemy.

Damien rushed through the gates, his knights who were just spa
rring and laughing a moment before were now deadly serious and ready for battle.  He ran up the stone steps, taking two at a time.  Reaching the top he hurried to the small group of men that looked out over the valley.  The riders came on, half a dozen.  They came at a fast clip one man rode out in front, leading them.  The men were ordered to the walls and the castle was ready to be defended long before the riders arrived.

“Who goes there?” Damien yelled down as they drew rein outside the gate.  

“Liam Donalds,” the man shouted back.  He rode a fine steed that told Damien this man was no common peasant.  He rode under no banner which told him this man had no loyalties.

“What business do you have here?” Damien asked.

“We are but travelers looking for some food and perhaps a warm place to sleep for the night.”

In the man’s voice he heard derision.

“Open the gates,” Damien called to the men below in the gatehouse.  He did not believe for one moment these men were mere travelers seeking succor. 

“They are not just travelers,” Cyrille stated as if Damien would have missed it.

“Do you forget so soon sometimes it is better the devil you know than the devil you do not.  Keep the men on watch until they leave,” Damien ordered before turning to greet the uninvited guests.

On first sight Damien didn’t like Liam.  The lank man had already dismounted and was looking about himself and he knew instantly the man was taking measure of the wall’s defenses.

“Mister Donalds,” Damien said his voice anything but welcoming.

“To whom do I owe the pleasure?” the man before him asked.  His voice held a note of contempt as if he tried not tipping his hand and letting his true nature show.

“I am Sir Damien Le Forte, here to secure King Richard’s property.”  He stood his feet slightly apart with his shoulders squared and head high as he tried to not openly glare at this man before him.  His hands he had clasped in front of him, only inches from his sword.

The man nodded, speechlessly as he studied him with a scowl.

“Leave your weapons with my man Cyrille,” Damien said as his brother stepped forward in his gray hood as he too stood straight and tall.  Damien held an impassive face at the stranger’s nervous reaction to his brother.  But felt the familiar anger at the reaction.

“That is no problem,” Liam said the smile on his face more a sneer.  “We are here to cause no problems.”  The man handed his sword to Cyrille, the craftsmanship poor but deadly all the same.  “Hand them over boys, it’s a small price to pay for some hot food,” he said cheerfully.  The other men complied but he took note of their cold gazes that contradicted their leader’s words.

Afraid his men might miss something key in this man’s behavior or actions Damien led the visitors to the stable and sent word to the kitchens to begin the preparations for the evening meal.  A job his wife would one day have if he was lucky enough have a home such as this.  His mind moved to thoughts of Keri and he found himself scowling.  The men lingered in the stable while Damien stood to the side, they didn’t speak to one another but their hesitancy to be on their way led him to believe they had much to discuss amongst themselves.  Finished seeing to their horses they went back out to the courtyard.  They studied the wall, the gate and the corners of the keep as they walked.  These men may have had no plans to cause trouble on this visit but they did have plans for it.

All the way into the hall their eyes searched their surroundings.  Once inside Damien directed Liam’s companions to a nearby table and invited Liam onto the dais.  He never noticed an etiquette where that was concerned, fighting had been his concentration.  As he took his seat he spotted Roland and Landry at the table with the other visitors.  In the shadows he saw Cyrille and knew his brother watched everything.

They drank, Liam sipped at his and Damien took that as a sign of a man on guard, one who had secrets he did not want to let out.  Each time Damien mentioned the king Liam would scowl, a subtle scowl, but a scowl nonetheless. The visitors looked to be growing impatient, their eyes kept roaming the room then landing on Liam as if he could hurry his conversation and they could be out of the hall, out from under the watchful eyes of their hosts.

“I need you,” Cyrille whispered, materializing from the shadows behind him to whisper at his shoulder.

Damien followed his brother to the courtyard, the evening was waning and the light of the low sun sat the walls ablaze.   Cyrille turned quickly, “Lady Keri and her children can’t be found.”

Damien had anticipated a number of things but that announcement had not been one of them. 

“What do you mean they can’t be found?” he asked feeling a thundering begin behind his temples.

“No one has seen her since the strangers arrived.”

“What does her maid have to say about this?” Damien demanded hoping his brother hadn’t missed that important step in the search.

“She hasn’t seen any of them since they were with you earlier.”  By the end of the explanation Cyrille’s voice had dwindled to its tired rasp.

“Damn her hide!” he exploded and his quick strides carried him toward the stables.

“What’s happening Damien?” Cyrille asked struggling to keep stride with him despite the limp that seemed worse this evening.

“The lady Keri has flown,” he spat the words out in disgust. “I’m going after her.  Keep a close watch on our visitors.  Send Edwin to me and the blacksmith,” Damien said hurrying into the stable.  Within a few minutes Edwin arrived and saddled his own horse and a spare.  By the time Damien finished preparing Phantom for travel the blacksmith had arrived.  Damien instructed him in the making of a special shackle and chain to be fastened securely to the wall in his chamber.

Damien and his squire rode out shortly before dusk a third horse in tow.   It took half the night to find the woman and her two children.  He was surprised they had made it as far as they had on foot.  Without her children he suspected his little warrior would have eluded him altogether.

~   ~   ~   ~

The night was a chilly one.  She wished she had had time to prepare for the journey but she had not. That’s why she leaned uncomfortably against a tree, holding her children to warm them.  The campfire helped but not as much as a blanket in a nice warm bed.  She hadn’t planned to flee, not after her experience in the dungeon and Damien’s kindness in letting her see her children.  But for Waverly she had to.  She couldn’t leave it up to Richard to make a good marriage for her daughter.  She would rather raise her children in poverty than risk Waverly being married to a man like Bryson.

The sound startled her but she didn’t have enough time to get to her feet before a beast hurtled out of the bush.  Her children clung to her as she looked up into the furious face of The-man-on-the-gray-horse.

He stared down at her as Edwin dismounted and came toward them.  Every instinct told her to fight but she knew it would be pointless.  Edwin spoke sweetly to both children and sat them on a third horse.  All the while she could only stand there like some half whit staring up at the man who glared back.

“I declare these two children property of the crown,” Damien advised in a clear voice with enough anger tingeing it she dared not argue or move.  “Take them back,” he ordered his squire.

He was going to kill her now.  She should just be thankful he had not done so in front of her children.

“If you take them again without my permission I will kill you for your crime against the crown.  If you leave without them I will kill them,” he declared still atop the gray horse.  Just as undefeatable as the first day she saw him leading his men. 

“You will not kill children,” she couldn’t help but remind him.

Damien leaned forward, resting his elbows on the front of his saddle.  “I have men in my ranks who would pay to have the honor of killing your young children,” his voice held a great deal of disdain.  He straightened a sneer crossing his face, “Do you know what they would do to a beautiful young thing like Waverly?”

Keri felt her knees turn weak.  It was all she could do to remain standing as the man dismounted.  His movements were graceful as if he were born to the saddle.  His steps were fluid and purposeful as he advanced to her.  Was it her imagination or did he seem much larger than he had this morning?  He stood before her studying her and she suddenly felt far more uncomfortable with him doing it than she ever did when her husband had.  She as much felt as saw his eyes travel every inch of her.  His eyes sparked and grew dark with the anger he held barely in check.  She feared what would become of her if that control snapped.  His eyes came back to hers and a chill passed through her.  It was as if he felt her reaction and his face hardened.  His head cocked sideways.

His faced turned to finely chiseled granite and it gave away nothing of what he was thinking.  His cold, cold gray eyes reflected the light of the fire and she felt as if she were standing before a demon sent straight from hell.  All this had to be God’s punishment.  He was displeased at her for taking the sacred vow to love, honor and obey her husband when she had done none of it.

He grabbed a fistful of her dress and yanked her forward.  The fabric tore and a smirk crossed his face as he yanked it from her body.

Why did she even try?  She wondered fleetingly as she stood naked against him.  This man was a different caliber than her husband had been.  Damien didn’t stand there drooling over her breasts, he had ample opportunity to have her but he never even touched her.  Even now he stood with her body touching him but he only stared at her face. 

What was wrong with this man?  He was a man and she knew she was far from ugly.  She felt her brows snap together her anger somehow inexplicably peeked because this man did not touch her.  What’s the matter with me, she wondered.  Why was she wishing rape on herself?  You can’t rape the willing, she thought and was mortified and knew that was the truth of it.  She wanted to know what it would feel like to be able to wrap her arms around him as he took her.  It was a desire she never had for until this moment she did not know what desire was.  She had never desired her husband, the only desire she could remember was the desire for him to stop looking at her, to stop touching her.