A VOW TO KEEP (The Vengeance Trilogy) (26 page)

“Damn,” he swore softly, rubbing a hand over the tightness in his chest.

As he grew older, the nightmare came less often, but always with the same effect. Terrible, wrenching pain. Pain from the loss of his parents, pain from the beam crushing his young body. And when he woke, he experienced the same feeling of loss; a grief so deep, it tore at his soul.

He didn’t remember anything after the timber had fallen on him. Henry, a loyal servant, had managed to save him though his uncle had left him to die in that fire. Henry had hidden him until he’d recovered from his injuries, at least the physical ones. The emotional ones had been more difficult to overcome.

Henry had helped Royce find safe haven with an old lord who took him in as a page and then trained him as a squire. As the years passed, his skills with weaponry grew as had his determination to become a knight, one strong enough and clever enough to seek revenge and take back the holding his uncle had stolen. Thanks to both Henry and the lord who had taken him in, opportunities to improve his skills had come his way.

Soon, after years of planning, vengeance would be his. The nightmare would fade to peaceful memories of his parents. No more would he relive the night that had forever changed his life.

The dream came only when something heavy weighed on his mind. What had brought it on this night?

Knowing sleep had come to an end, he rose and donned his chausses, moving quietly so as not to disturb the men slumbering nearby. He stepped out of the garrison into the cool night air and drew a deep breath, trying to clear the bad dream. The full moon lit the area around him and out of habit, he scanned the bailey to make certain all was well.

He caught the scent of something pleasantly familiar and sniffed the night air again. Lavender. The same fragrance Alyna carried with her. Thoughts of her drifted to him along with the scent and softened the sense of loss the dream had left behind. Quick on its heels was a flare of desire. Blast the woman for smelling of that sweet flower.

Hell’s teeth, it was not just her scent, but the way she looked, the way she moved. Had she been put in his path to tempt him and prove how truly weak he was? He shook his head at his fanciful thoughts.

He’d promised himself the best thing to do was to stay far away from her, but what had he done? Sought her out with the flimsiest of excuses. Touched her. Kissed her. He could not keep his hands off her. Should she stand before him at this very moment, he’d do much more than that. He clenched his jaw at the thought.

The reason he’d had the nightmare came, and at last, he acknowledged it. Hadn’t he been distracted from his carefully laid plans of revenge by Alyna? How could he consider acting on his feelings for her when he hadn’t yet made good on his vow for his mother and father?

He could not.

They deserved justice and it was up to him to deliver it. His focus had to return to where it belonged–on Tegmont. He fingered the amulet he wore around his neck, the one Henry had taken from his mother’s body and given to him. His father’s sword and his mother’s amulet were all he had left of them and served as constant reminders of his purpose.

The feelings he had for Alyna were nothing more than lust. He’d felt lust before. If he chose not to act on it, it would soon fade. While he was more taken with her than any woman he’d met, that could be changed. He was in control. And while Nicholas made him think of the day when he’d have children of his own, now was not the time for that.

If he allowed these feelings for Alyna and Nicholas to grow, he would lose the focus and edge he needed. These tender feelings would make him vulnerable. Soft. Distracted. There was no room in his heart for anything save vengeance.

He breathed deeply again and caught another scent in the night air. Smoke. Bells of alarm rang in his head. The smell came not from his nightmare, nor from the direction of the keep, but from outside the curtain wall.

He ran back inside, rousing the men as he threw on his tunic, grabbed his sword, and rushed back out to climb to the walkway atop the curtain wall.

The sight below enraged him. Moonlight revealed men on horseback tossing lighted torches onto the thatched roofs of cottages where innocent villagers slept. Without hesitation, he
called
his battle cry, knowing it would bring
the
men running. The thieves below stopped their destruction at the sound of his call.

An arrow sang near his ear, narrowly missing him. Royce jumped down from the wall and ran to the stables. He freed his horse from its stall just as the first of
the
men arrived with Hugh in the forefront.

“Thieves!” he shouted. “They set fire to the village!” With no further explanation, he jumped on his horse without bridle or saddle, using his knees to guide it.

He galloped through the rising portcullis, his horse’s hooves echoing on the cobblestones as he rode hard toward the burning cottages. Though well aware this could be a trap set to lure him and
the
men from the safety of the castle, he couldn’t stand by while innocent villagers were in danger.

As he neared, he saw only four of the cottages were aflame. He rode to the worst one, hoping he could help. The thieves were nowhere in sight.

A man and woman in their nightclothes emerged from the burning cottage as he neared, much to Royce’s relief. They coughed and choked from the smoke. The woman fell to her knees as she turned back toward her burning home, tears streaming down her face. “Michael?”

The man joined her frantic calls, his voice gruff from the smoke. “Michael!”

Royce slid off his horse and grabbed the man’s arm before he could return to the hut. “You can’t go back in there.”

“Our son is still inside.” The man’s expression was filled with fear.

“I’ll find him,” Royce said grimly despite the unease coiling in his stomach.

“Nay, I’ll go,” Hugh appeared at his side, his concern evident as he well knew of Royce’s painful memories of fire.

Royce shook his head, urged on by the parents’ distraught expressions. He grabbed a
wet
cloak one of his men held out and crossed the narrow threshold into the cottage.

The sound of the fire roared in his head, louder than a hundred galloping horses. Heat from the flames sucked the air from his lungs so he put the
edge of the
cloak over his mouth. The smoke was thick inside the hut, burning his eyes, and he could barely make out the sparse furnishings of the room. He bent low where the smoke was thinner and lifted the cloak from his mouth. “Michael?” he shouted.

No answer could be heard over the thunder of the fire. He looked toward the corners of the room, unsure where the boy might be. Both beds in the cottage were empty. “Michael!”

The heat was overwhelming. Each breath he took felt like he drew in the fire itself. What had started as unease in the pit of his stomach now swelled into full-blown fear, stealing his thoughts, weighting his limbs. He had to find the boy and get him out.

The room shifted and the furnishings around him seemed eerily familiar. He shook his head and tried to concentrate. This was not his home. He could not let his memory play tricks on him. Not now. A father and mother stood outside waiting for their son. He would not let them down. “Boy, can you hear me?”

An odd sound came from above, causing Royce to look up as the roof of the cottage collapsed on top of him.

***

“Mama?”

Alyna stirred and rolled over to find Nicholas standing beside her bed. “What is it, Nicholas?”

“There’s trouble. Bad trouble, Mama.” The serious expression on his face forced her from the warmth of her bed.

“What do you mean, my sweet? Are you ill?”

“Nay.” The little boy pulled at her hand. “Let’s go outside and see.”

Enid rose from her pallet on the floor near the hearth. “What’s the matter, my lady?”

“’Tis Nicholas. He says there’s some sort of trouble.”

The maid lit a candle, took one look at Nicholas’s face and fetched Alyna’s kirtle. “You best see what’s wrong, my lady.”

Alyna gave Nicholas a kiss and a hug. “I’ll find out and be back as quick as I can,” she reassured him. She shared a worried glance with Enid as she quickly donned her clothes. “Stay with Nicholas, and I’ll send for you if I need you.”

Enid nodded. “Be careful, my lady.”

Nicholas reached for the maid’s hand. “Hurry, Mama.”

Alyna did indeed hurry. The stairs seemed dark and endless as she made her way down them as fast as she dared.

Her grandfather was in the great hall, giving orders to several servants. “Awaken the rest of the
keep
and send
all
down to the village.”

“Grandfather,” she greeted him, relieved at his presence, “when did you return?”

“Alyna!” He looked surprised to see her. “I arrived some time ago.”

“What’s happened?” she asked, noting the flurry of activity.

“There’s been an attack on the village. Cottages are burning. I’m going now. Most of the men are already there.”

“I’ll come, too.”

“Nay, my dear. ’Tis too dangerous.” He strapped on his sword as he spoke.

“The villagers may need me. I have some knowledge of healing. Truly, I can help.”

He hesitated, his reluctance obvious.

“Please, Grandfather. I’ll be careful. Surely the attackers have been chased off by now.”

“’Tis true your assistance may be needed,” he relented. “Let us go.”

When they arrived at the cluster of burning cottages, she could see
people
had formed a line to pass buckets of water toward the worst of the fires but progress was slow as the well was some distance away.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of a man and a woman huddled together to one side of the burning cottage, their distress obvious.

Hugh directed the men as to where to throw the water but kept a careful watch on the door.

“Is someone still in there?” she asked.

Hugh glanced at her, his expression grim. “Royce went in to get their son.”

“Oh, dear God.” Alyna’s heart squeezed with fright, unable to imagine how terrified she’d be if Nicholas were in that inferno. Even from this distance, the fire was hot. What would it be like inside?

Tears streaked the soot on the mother’s face but her expression held a desperate hope. Alyna closed her eyes and said a quick prayer for the safety of both Royce and the boy.

As she opened her eyes, the sound of breaking timbers echoed in the night. The thatched roof of the cottage collapsed.

Hugh lunged forward. “Royce!”

Lord Blackwell grabbed Hugh. “Nay, Hugh, wait!” he demanded. He looked back over his shoulder. “We need more men over here!”

“Please, dear God,” Alyna prayed as she watched with horror, her heart pounding with fear.

Hugh neared the doorway. “Royce,” he called out. “Royce! Answer me!” He hurried around the structure as close as the flames allowed, calling Royce’s name. “Over here,” he yelled from behind the cottage.

Alyna followed the men as they ran to Hugh and threw water where directed. Here, the fire did not have as strong a hold. Using his axe, Hugh hacked into the wattle and daub wall. Smoke rolled out of the opening. More water was thrown on the walls to keep the fire at bay.

“Quickly! Get that hole bigger!” Lord Blackwell demanded.

Other men pulled at the coating to reveal the wood frame structure underneath.

Hugh leaned into the opening. “Royce!” he called out. “Royce, come this way.”

“Do you see him?” Blackwell asked.

“I can’t see anything. The smoke is too damn thick,” Hugh answered before he hollered for his friend again. “Royce!”

Alyna knew that if Royce had survived thus far, Hugh’s booming voice would lead him to safety.

As Hugh continued to call out, other men enlarged the hole. Still, they heard no response. Despair filled Alyna as the smoke billowed out and flames licked the walls nearby.