The Third Son (30 page)

Lionus parried his
enemy’s
thrust and lifted one of his long legs to catch the masked man in the center of his chest with his heavy riding boot. With a grunt, his enemy lost his footing and Lionus was over him in an instant, but not before the masked man regained his hold on the hilt of his sword. The men waited in silence, each watching for the other to strike.

“Unmask yourself,” Lionus said coldly. “I would look into the eyes of my father’s murderer before I run him through.”

A gloved hand reached up to slide the mask away. When Lionus looked into the eyes of his father’s killer, he felt as if the wind had been knocked from him. The face of his enemy was so familiar, yet the malice that he saw in the handsome features had never been present before.

“No!” Lionus stammered. He staggered backwards, his sword falling limply at his side. “It can’t be!”

A
man
Lionus had once called friend
stood to face him. “I’m afraid it’s true, brother.”

Lionus’ shock was paralyzing. He could only gaze at the man and stare. “Brother?” Of course
,
the man was his brother. How could he have not recognized the signs? He had never truly looked at the man, not as he studied him now. The man had many of his father’s features. “Why have you done this?”

“To take back what is rightfully mine,” he said, raising his sword once more. Before Lionus could react, his brother’s sword found his shoulder. Lionus dropped his sword and drew back his fist to connect with his opponent’s face. He staggered backward from Lionus’ blow. Lionus reached up to pull the blade from his flesh, ignoring the searing pain shooting through his arm. He threw his brother’s sword at his feet and lifted his own with his uninjured arm. “Stand and fight me, you coward.”

Serge fought madly, cutting down the men that had been dispatched by the masked man to kill him. He could see Lionus through the madness that surrounded him.
Serge
could see that their father’s murderer no longer wore his mask, but the man had his back turned and Serge could not see his face. 

Raw fury raced through him and he fought to make his way to his brother’s side. He would not allow his brother to face the villain alone.
Serge
heard the shrill screams of a woman behind him and turned to find three men surrounding Isabelle and Alexandra’s carriage.

An inhuman battle cry was the only warning the attackers had. Serge hacked his way through them, decapitating the first, severing the sword arm of the second and running his sword clean through the middle of the third. He looked up to find Isabelle watching him from the window of the carriage, her eyes wide with fear.
Serge
knew he must look like a man possessed and felt the sticky wetness of another man’s blood across his face. He reached through the window to take her hand, ignoring the tiny shivers of awareness that shot through him at her touch.

“Isabelle, are you able to drive this carriage?” She looked behind him to see that one coachman lay dead and the other was fighting among the guards.

“I can if there is no other option,” she said, her soft voice filled with a strength he had known she possessed.

“Good. Take the reins and drive this thing as fast as you can. Go back to the palace. Damien is not scheduled to leave until tomorrow. You must find him and tell him what has happened. Tell him to send aid.”

Isabelle nodded, exiting the carriage to climb onto the driver’s perch. Alexandra cried hysterically in the confines of the carriage. Ignoring her, Serge turned back to Isabelle, who held the reigns in her hand. He lifted his pistol from beneath the carriage seat and handed it to her.

“Do not hesitate to use it,” he said. She took the pistol without hesitation and pushed it down into the pocket of her skirt.

“Go!” he bellowed, slapping one of the lead horses on the rear. The horses whinnied and were off like a shot, carrying Isabelle and Alexandra to safety.

Relieved, Serge turned back toward Lionus, who still fought the masked man. Blood trickled down his arm and soaked the front of his coat. He was slowing down, swinging his sword sluggishly. Serge leaped over two men who had fallen to the ground, locked together in a struggle. Most of the men lay dead or dying, but Serge’s main concern was his brother.

He raised his sword, prepared to strike out, when he was brought up short. Pain exploded at the back of his head and his vision blurred as he fell to his knees. He fought for consciousness, knowing that if he lost himself to oblivion, he and Lionus would both be dead within moments.

One of the masked man’s accomplices grasped him by the arms and held him down, a pistol pressed against his temple.

“Hold still or I will gladly blow a hole through your head,” a raspy voice said beside his ear. “Then my boss will be furious with me, since he’s determined to kill you himself.”

Serge could only watch Lionus fight as his blood rapidly drained from his body through the gaping wound in his shoulder. His heart twisted painfully in his chest when Lionus finally dropped to his knees, too weak to continue.

“No!” Serge cried as he watched their enemy shove his sword through Lionus’ middle. “Lionus,” he moaned weakly, watching his brother’s lifeless body fall into a heap on the ground. He struggled against the arms that held him, enraged, but the blow to his head had sapped much of his strength.

Darkness shrouded the face of his enemy as he approached, wiping his sword clean of Lionus’ blood. Serge growled like an enraged beast, straining against his captor’s hold. Another blow to the head subdued him and he waited for his adversary to show his face.

“No,” he whispered, when the man finally came into view.
Could it be? This man had been a part of Serge’s life for as long as he could remember .They’d been like brothers, yet the evil and hate he found on this man’s face stung him.

“I can’t believe it.” Serge shook his head and narrowed his eyes, determined to see someone else before him, but the face and form before him did not change.
Blond hair fell into flashing green eyes filled with malice.
His heart ached at the sight. “Why?”

“Because our father abandoned me,” he said simply.

“Our father? Tell your men to release me and fight me, damn you!” Serge fought with renewed strength, anger numbing the throbbing pain in his head. “Let me go goddamn it!”

He fought and screamed.
Serge
kicked and flailed as ropes were tied around his ankles and wrists. He cursed his half-brother for the coward he was, as his ankles were tethered to the back of the remaining carriage.

The face of a man he once held dear loomed over him. “I will not stand by and watch you inherit everything that is rightfully mine. When you awaken in the afterlife, you can thank your father for this.”

He lifted his pistol above his head, firing a crackling shot into the dead of night. The horses reared and whinnied before dashing off down the road, dragging the carriage and Serge behind them.

****

Damien bent over the lens of one of his most prized telescopes
, alone in the observatory
. The instrument was far too big for him to bring on board the ship that would be carrying him across the world in the morning. So now he stood, gazing through it one last time at the clear night sky.

The palace was eerily quiet now that his family had gone, leaving behind only a handful of servants and guards. The majority of the staff had left ahead of them to prepare Lionus’ country estate.

A tingle of excitement worked its way up Damien’s spine and he smiled, lifting his head to study the heavens through the domed glass ceiling. A new beginning awaited him in America and he could hardly wait to begin it. He was told that places like New York and Boston fairly bustled with industry and educational opportunities. He and Esmeralda would live a comfortable life away from kings and royal courts.

Damien looked up just in time to see Jarvis entering the room. The faithful butler had stayed behind to see Damien off, and planned to join the family once he had escorted Damien to the waiting ship. The old man’s face was white as a sheet. Damien stepped away from his telescope. “What is it Jarvis? Is something wrong?”

“Your Grace, Her Majesty and the queen mother have returned,” he began, wringing his hands together nervously.

“Alone?” Damien frowned. “Where are Serge and Lionus? What’s happened?”

“They were attacked,” Jarvis said, flinching at the fury that blazed in Damien’s eyes at his announcement. 

“Where are they?” he demanded, already striding through the doors of the observatory. Before Jarvis could respond, the sound of
Alexandra’s
wailing drifted down the hall to greet his ears. He followed the noise until he found Isabelle and Alexandra seated in the green parlor. Alexandra sobbed noisily
.
Isabelle paced before the fire.

“Damien!” she cried when he entered. She flew across the room at him, clutching his shoulders. “You must gather up more men! You must go to help them!” Her face was streaked with tears, but she spoke calmly and clearly, struggling to be heard over Alexandra’s noisy crying.

“How did you get back here? Did you come alone? Where are my brothers?”

Isabelle turned to Alexandra. “Would you shut up!” she cried sharply. “I can barely hear myself think!”

Alexandra clamped her lips together and stared venomously at Isabelle, but was otherwise silent. Isabelle continued. “I drove the carriage back. Serge…he saved us…we were attacked by a band of men along the road. Your brothers stayed with the guards to fight them off.”

Damien turned to Jarvis. “Get as many guards together as you can and have them ready in the courtyard immediately. Have Persephone saddled as well and bring my sword and pistols.”

Jarvis hurried from the room quickly to carry out his command. Damien turned back to Isabelle. “Was it him, Isabelle? The masked man?”

Isabelle nodded. “Yes. When I left he was locked in a swordfight with Lionus. Oh Damien
,
I fear they may both be dead! Lionus was severely injured and Serge and the guards were greatly outnumbered!”

Damien held her against him, patting her shoulder soothingly. “Don’t worry, I’ll find them.
D
o not think such things just yet. They could very well have routed the attackers and started on their way back to the palace.”

Even as he said the words
,
he did not believe them. He left Isabelle with his mother and found Jarvis in the front hall waiting for him. Jarvis handed him his greatcoat, gloves, and a belt holding his sword and a pair of pistols. Damien fastened the belt around his hips and pulled on the gloves. He swung the greatcoat around his shoulders and turned to Jarvis once more.

“Send for a physician, Jarvis. We don’t know what…condition, we will find them in. Have some maids standing by with supplies and bandages as well.”

“Your Grace, do you think…” Jarvis trailed off. The words hung unspoken between them. Damien might find his brothers dead or dying. His heart plummeted into his stomach at the thought.

“No, Jarvis. We won’t think that way until we have to.” He turned back in the doorway and added, “Send a messenger to Esmeralda’s cottage in the city. Her grandmother has a knowledge of healing, she may be able to help.”

Damien led the small group of guards down the darkened road, his eyes scanning the area carefully. He had clung to the hope that he would find his brothers along the way, headed back toward the palace, unharmed. The longer he rode, the less likely that became. He stayed on alert, aware that a trap could be set to ensnare him as well. His handful of men rode behind him, weapons at the ready, alert and watching for trouble.

He came upon a lone carriage, observing the crest of the royal family on its side. The horses stood calmly, pawing at the hard earth. He looked inside and found it empty.

“Search the area,” he commanded the guards, they have to be close by.” He stood and turned in a slow circle, searching the line of trees on either side for the slightest movement.

“Your Grace!” the panic in the guard’s voice brought Damien running around to the back of the carriage where he was greeted by a sight that caused his stomach to turn.

He barely recognized Serge, who lay lashed to the back of the carriage by his ankles. His clothes were bloodstained and in shreds. Blood caked his hair and soaked the snowy-white ground beneath his head. One of his arms was twisted at an odd angle and Damien was quite certain it was broken in several places.

Damien knelt beside his brother’s still form, pressing his fingers against the base of his throat. He was shocked to find a slight fluttering, the only sign of his brother’s life that remained. “He’s still alive!” he cried, hope expanding in his chest. “Get him into the carriage,” he bellowed. “One of you drive him back to the palace! The rest of you keep looking.”

Damien knew that Lionus was out there somewhere, injured. Fury swept over him and he prayed zealously that the masked man was still near, alive, so that Damien could squeeze the life out of him with his bare hands. Two guards carefully cut Serge free of his bonds and lifted him gingerly into the carriage. Damien watched as it hurtled into the night. “Hold on, Serge,” he whispered, hoping that his words somehow reached his brother’s ears. “Don’t die on me now.”