Carolyne Cathey (40 page)

"Brigham
swept the pieces to the floor to save you from your own folly.  He told me this
himself.  He claims the game unfinished.  If you value your life, Kyle, you
will do the same."

"I value my
honor more."

Kyle would never
have believed the solar could have become so quiet.  Not even a hushed breath
broke the deathly stillness.

King Edward
waited in silence for his aide to taste the wine, then he took the royal goblet
and downed a swallow.  He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, drilling
Kyle with a look of warning.  "And if you persist in this foolishness, what
think you will happen to Trystonwood, to your people?  Who will protect them
then?  You have claimed in the past that your parents lost their lives fighting
for you to have this land.  Dare you betray their love?  You must weigh the
fate of one leman against your responsibility to their sacrifice."

Before Kyle could
respond, Peter stepped into his view, an ugly gash on his forehead, and the
sight jolted Kyle into wondering what had caused Peter's injury, realizing he
hadn't seen the man all day but had been too ensnared in his own trap to
notice.

"Sire, there
is a reason why milady went before the king."

"You!" 
Lady Mellisande smashed her tankard on the floor and wine spattered on her
bindweed-colored gown.  "Your king just told you that those of your ilk
matter not.  Get out before--"

Kyle grabbed her
hand she had raised for a strike.  "Cease, Lady Mellisande.  You've become
boring with this repetitive malice." 

She jerked from
his grip and turned in a huff.  "'Tis of no matter.  No one would dare
believe a worthless worm instead of me.  King Edward must be sickened to
witness all this uproar over an insignificant whore"

Kyle nodded to
Peter.  "Explain."

"Milady came
to the cottage last eve and saved Kinnie from death's door.  Then when--"

Kyle drew in a breath. 
"She what?"

"Aye, we's
feared Kinnie was dyin' and Jane begged milady to come.  But then Lady
Mellisande and Brigham came into the cottage and said ye were sentenced to die
this morn by the king's order.  They intended to force her to go with them, but
she escaped.  Cept 'stead of hidin', she fled to the king.  I'm sure she meant
to plead fer yer life, milord.  I would’ve come sooner, but the blow on me head
knocked me out."

A rage furious
and hot exploded within Kyle's body and he spun to Lady Mellisande.  "You
Satan's spawn.  You have interfered once too often with me and mine.  I demand
you leave and never return, not if you hope to see another sunrise."

Lady Mellisande's
smile widened, wicked, frightening, and the sight shot fear along Kyle's
veins. 

"I warn you,
future husband, you may rue the day you spoke to me thus.  I have royal blood
in my veins that screams for revenge." 

King Edward
hissed a sharp intake of breath.

Kyle struggled to
control his temper as he confronted the king.  "If I must choose between
Lady Mellisande and death, then so be it, for I will not wed her.  Do not push
me too far, or you will have one less knight to fight your cause."

King Edward's
face flushed with anger.  "Don't you dare to give me ultimatums, Kyle.  As
king, I will not allow such effrontery." 

Reeking of confidence,
Lady Mellisande turned and glided toward the hearth, picking up a tankard of
wine as she passed the tray.

Kyle strode
toward her, so enraged that he shook.  "You have surpassed your father in
wickedness, but heed this, Mellisande.  I will never take you as wife.  And you
will never have this land.  I would rather give my heritage to King Edward or
to the church than allow you to taint this soil with your venomous
presence."

She spun to Kyle,
the hatred in her eyes shocking even him, a man who thought he had witnessed
all. 

"You
bastard!  You scum.  You think to have won this mockery, but you know naught of
your fate.  I am the king's cousin and will not tolerate your boorishness. 
Before this night is over, I will rip the heart from your body."

"My heart is
beyond the grasp of your wicked talons."

"You think
so?  'Tis sweet revenge we have planned.  That whore, that witch you claim you
love . . . what I threatened before - the whippings, the group rape, the
torture, the worms eating her flesh - are naught in comparison to what Brigham
shall do this All Hallows Eve." Lady Mellisande fell silent, her eyes
hooded.

Icy fear burrowed
into Kyle's chest.  Eleanor!  All those moments he had stalled for time, he had
given Brigham hours for her torture.  Horrified, Kyle stared into the flames
that called his attention like a fiery Siren.  If trouble had ensued, Jerrod
would have sent word. 
Unless he couldn't
. 

Kyle's nightmare
leapt into his mind where the dragon had snatched Eleanor and hidden her in his
underground lair. Frantic, Kyle had scoured the land but had never found her. 
Kyle's heart lurched with another horrid memory and he again studied the flames
in the hearth.  Once before, he had seen the dragon in those flames. 

And Eleanor.

"Nay!" 
Kyle flinched at the sound of his own shout.  In a panic, Kyle grabbed Lady
Mellisande by her arms and shook her, sloshing the wine from her tankard in
dark red waves over her already stained gown.  "Where is Eleanor?  What
have you done with her?"

"You dare to
treat me, the king's cousin, with more brusqueness than your servants?  Do you
tolerate this, Cousin?"

He glared into
Lady Mellisande's soulless eyes.  "Where is she?  You plan to burn her as
a witch.  I know 'tis this night, but where?"

Truth flashed in her
eyes, then ducked behind treachery.

"If you dare
harm her, I will kill you."

Lady Mellisande
laughed.  "'Tis not I who shall die, my foolish lord." 

Her declaration
thrust like a hot sword through his chest.  Kyle had to save Eleanor. 
Terrified he had already delayed too long, Kyle spun to King Edward.

"I'll wed
Lady Mellisande!"

King Edward
showed his surprise.

"But!" 
Kyle met Lady Mellisande's victorious grin.  "First you must present
Eleanor.  Bring her here, to me."

She arched a pale
brow.  "You assume too much, Lord Kyle."

"You are so
desperate to have this land, this castle?  'Tis yours.  King Edward is my
witness."  He cast a glance at Lord Hanley.  Triumph gleamed from his
eyes.  "I want Eleanor, Lord Hanley.  Bring her here.  Now."

Lord Hanley
shrugged.  "'Tis all fate, Kyle.  'Tis naught but fate.  All things happen
as intended."  He nodded to Lady Mellisande.  "I'll inform my army of
our departure.  When next we grace these doors, you'll be a bride, and at long
last, we'll have Trystonwood."

Hanley smiled,
then turned toward the door to the great hall, but Kyle gripped his shoulder. 
"You do not leave here until Eleanor is brought to me . . . alive and
unharmed."

"Whom do you
think you fool, Kyle?  If I so choose, I could take Trystonwood without a
blink.  My army outman’s yours, and with King Edward's as well, you haven't a
prayer.  In truth, I could snatch right now what should have been mine long
years past.  Then you'd be dead and I'd have one of the largest strongholds in
England." 

"And who is
next on your murderous list so that your lands will finally surpass the king’s
in size?  Take care, Hanley, or King Edward might fear you lust for the
throne."  He shifted his attention to Lady Mellisande, the wine still
dripping from her matted hair.  "You think you hood me like a gyrfalcon. 
You think me powerless.  You mistake kindness and compassion for weakness.  A
deadly error."

"'Tis you
who have made the deadly error, Lord Kyle.  You should never have sided against
me."  She placed a hand on King Edward's arms.  "What think you,
Cousin?  Should we take him prisoner now?  We have him outpowered."

Kyle held his
breath in wait for King Edward's answer.  In truth, Edward could order his
arrest and execution at that moment, and Kyle could not stop him.

King Edward
pierced his gaze into Kyle's.  "I will have the truth by the morrow. 
Loyalty?  Or treason?" 

"I choose
honor."

King Edward
studied him for a long moment, then gestured with his free hand to one of his
knights.  "Gather the men.  We go to our campsite." 

Kyle returned
King Edward's scrutiny.  "Even after what you’ve witnessed, you've made
your choice?"

"How could
you have doubted otherwise?" 

Kyle stared in
enraged indignation as the king strode beside Lady Mellisande and Lord Hanley
through the door to the great hall.  Betrayal, hot and cruel slashed at Kyle's
pledge of fealty.

"John!"

"Aye,
milord."

"Tell my
knights to prepare for war.  Bring my armor."

Kyle strode to
stare out the window, his eyes riveted to the dark, hating the delay before
action when moments seemed eternity, wondering the whereabouts of Eleanor,
praying she lived.  He would save her, and no one dare stand in his path.  Not
even the king. 

Sounds of a
departing army clattered across the drawbridge. 

"Here,
milord."  John struggled into the solar, laden with mail and gambeson.

Kyle could barely
contain his urgency while John and Peter assisted him into his armor. 

"Kyle?"

He whirled to the
sound of Jerrod's voice.

Jerrod staggered
into the solar, his surcote dirty and torn, his face covered with dried blood.

"Sins of
Hell, Jerrod!  What happened?"

"We were
ambushed."

"Where's
Eleanor?"

Jerrod shook his
head.

Panic tore at
Kyle's insides.  "Sit down and explain."  He motioned to the settle,
then nodded at John.  "Peter and I can buckle the gambeson.  Take ale to
Sir Jerrod."  Kyle struggled to still the tremble in his fingers as he
fumbled with the clasp.  "Now, Jerrod, what happened?"

Jerrod groaned as
he dropped to the seat, his hand on his brow.  "You always claimed my head
thick as horn.  I should have worn my helm on the inside, then perhaps 'twould
not now lie in two pieces upon the ground.  I saw not who crowned me, but I can
guess."  He reached for the offered tankard.

"Aye.  So
can I.  But when?  How far away?  What happened to Eleanor?  And don't ramble. 
'Tis death that stalks this night."

"Last eve,
not far away, and I wish to God I knew.  I've failed you, Kyle."

"Last
eve?"  The helm slipped from Kyle's hands and clattered on the floor. 
"But what took you so long to return?"

"I didn't
rouse 'til almost dark, amidst a Blackberry bramble, I might add.  I searched
the area and saw footprints and signs of scuffles, but then the markings led me
to the road and went both directions.  Not wanting to follow the wrong trail, I
walked, then caught a ride upon a grain wagon to the gate.  Agate awaited me
outside the castle wall."

Fear wrenched
Kyle's bowels.  He snatched his helm from the rushes.  "Jerrod!  We ride! 
And I pray I'm not too late!"

"Where?"

"To slay a
dragon."

E
leanor shook her head and
blinked, forcing her heavy, burning eyelids to remain open while willing her
legs not to collapse from exhaustion.  An eternity ago, ever since she had been
thrown into the over-large grave, she had frozen in the same position as when
she had clutched the rose, knowing in a blood-curdling instant what shared her
underground pit.  Not even a ray of light alleviated the dark, but her ears,
feet and ankles told her more than she wanted to know. 

Rats and
vipers
. 

Her swollen hands
throbbed, her wrists raw and aching from her attempts to twist from her
bindings.  She could barely swallow from the dryness of her throat, her feet
numb from remaining too long in the same stance, afraid to move, afraid the
rats would climb her gown and eat at her flesh, afraid of disturbing the adders
that continually slithered and coiled around her ankles.  And all through the
interminable hours, the snakes and rats hissed and squealed as if they fought
to determine who ate whom. 

Eleanor new adders
only haunted the bogs and moors of Cornwall.  That Brigham went to such extreme
effort to stock the evil creatures, only reinforced how warped his mind, how
unequivocal his deadly intentions, how impossible her survival.

A black urging
taunted her mind to throw herself prostrate into the primitive battle and let
the fangs and teeth end her torment.  A shudder rippled down her spine.  What a
horrid death.  But being burned alive claimed a more gruesome end.  So why did
she hesitate?  Something deep inside her breast refused surrender--unrelenting
hope.  And something deeper still.  The babe.  She must protect their child.

The earth
trembled beneath the numb stumps that were once her feet. 

Brigham came for
her! 

Her blood ran as
cold as the clamminess of her prison.  She had no escape, nowhere to run,
trapped like an animal waiting for slaughter.  No.  Worse.  For even an animal
received a mercy killing before being roasted.  Fear shivered up her spine and
tingled her nape.

The rumbles
intensified, as did the frantic beat of her pulse.  Something from above hit
her head and she screamed with hysteria, swiping her tied hands over her hair. 
Mud
.  Then she heard splats in the muck as what must be ceiling-clods
fell from the quaking ground, stirring the moldy stench that had filled her
lungs and had soaked into her skin until she felt as if spiders crawled over
and through her body. 

A thump sounded,
then a fresh gust swirled the stagnant air of her underground hell.  Torchlight
writhed through the opening, throwing grotesque shapes against the walls,
revealing the truth of her suspicions as the tangle of vipers and rats squirmed
on the floor of her slimy prison. 

Before a scream
left her throat, a helmed knight leapt beside her into the pit.  Rats screeched
in protest.  Angered snakes struck against her mud-caked gown and his
mail-covered legs.  But the most terrifying sight of all shimmered like Black
Death on the knight’s white surcote.

A
dragon
.

The dragon of
Kyle's nightmares, of her vision come to pass. 

Icy panic froze
her insides, then spread throughout her body until she felt buried in black
snow. 

Caught between
hells
. 

If she stayed in
that Devil's den she would either die a painful death, or go insane, but to
burn at the stake . . .

The knight
grasped her waist and she instinctively twisted against his grip.  He shoved
her up out of the bowels of the earth into the chill of night where another
knight grabbed her and tossed her to a mounted knight who then spurred his
steed to a gallop.

Hoofbeats
thundered to each side and behind.

Heartbeats
thundered through her veins.  Eleanor caught the horse's fluttering mane with
her stiff fingers and glanced about her in the dim light of an approaching
moon.  At least a score of mounted knights surged from the trees and up
alongside, light glinting off their metal headcoverings, their surcotes bright
against the dark night.

White.  Against
black.  Her dream.

A pennant
streamed from a staff, a black dragon on white, therefore not King Edward's, or
Lord Hanley's.

Before she could
wrest another thought out of her horrified mind, the village came into
view--and the village square where a stake stood surrounded by a large sprawl
of brush.  Fear screamed through her veins and shoved a cry out of her throat.

The knight yanked
his mount to a halt beside the stake and another man dragged her from the
horse.  Even though hampered by her bindings, she clawed at his leather
gauntlets, scraping her fingers against his mail-covered arms.  She beat
against his metal helm and bruised her already hurting hands.  He jammed her
against the post and pain jolted up her back into her head.

"Nay!  I'm
not a witch!"  Eleanor twisted in protest of the two men who lashed her
torso to the stake, then her ankles, but the stake became as part of her spine
and held her prisoner.

The men leapt
back.  A knight thrust a lighted torch toward the brush.

Terrified, she
strained against the too-tight ropes that would surely cut her in two. 
"Dear God!  Don't--"

"Halt!"

Another
dragon-knight stepped in front of her and drew off his helm.

Brigham
. 
But then, she knew as much.  Hatred burned within her chilled body as hot as
the blazing torch he held in his hand.

"Look at the
keep, witch.  I faced you this direction so that you can watch for Kyle while
you burn.  A messenger is on his way to inform him of your fate.  If he’s
curious enough to look out his window, he’ll see you die."  Brigham shrugged. 
"I doubt he’ll care.  You know Kyle; his brains are between his legs. 
While you suffered torturous hours in the pit, he indulged in Beth’s ampleness,
thrusting away all memories of you.  Mayhaps he’ll rut her in sweaty passion
whilst you shriek in agony.  Mayhaps he’ll cry out his release whilst you gasp
your last breath."

"Don't
bother with your lies, Brigham.  Trust is beyond your comprehension."

He raised a
supercilious brow.  "Not in
all
things, witch.  Glance around you. 
You
lie if you believe you have a chance of rescue.  I trust that you
are doomed.  I comprehend your fiery fate."

Despite the
threatening hysteria that tightened her lungs, Eleanor struggled to appear
controlled as she scanned the helmed knights who stood in a circle around the
edge of the brush pile, faceless witnesses to her execution.  "Who are
these men?"

"Mine. 
Aye.  I'm the dragon.  You saw me true; a consolation for your charred
heart."

"Why would
they follow you?  You have no property, no title."

"I will by
morn, thanks to you--and to the wager."  The most evil of grins curved his
mouth.  "Kyle chose honor and certain death, over Lady Mellisande.  By the
by, she carries my child.  The future heir.  I had meant to kill Kyle after the
wedding ceremony and then to take his place as lord.  Instead, I'll use you as
a human torch to draw him from the keep.  We'll butcher him and capture
Trystonwood, my reward from Hanley for betraying my brother."

"King Edward
will never allow you to reign as lord."

"Ah, but
Mellisande will rule as my lady.  Her royal influence as his cousin will assure
my position.  And she always gets her way."

"A perfect
mating.  The dragon and the she-devil."

"Never fear,
witch, I will provide you a perfect mate.  Kyle will soon scorch with you in
the eternal flames of hell."

Eleanor's stomach
knotted tighter.  Not only could she not warn Kyle, but she might even be the
means to draw him to his death.  "You speak as if 'tis a surety, Brigham. 
Nay, he'll fight you."

He shrugged. 
"Perhaps, but I fight not alone.  Lord Hanley's men are soon to arrive. 
Kyle is outmanned and outmaneuvered in this chess game of life.  This time 'tis
I who calls out checkmate." 

Brigham's
fiendish eyes gleamed in the torchlight as he released a demented laugh, then
he swished the flare in front of her face.  "Beg for your life,
witch."

Panic shrieked
along her nerves as heat flashed across her flesh.  The smell of her own singed
hair filled her nostrils.  Eleanor bit down hard on her lip to cease her
protest and she welcomed the pain.  He wanted her entreaties.  She would not
give him the pleasure.

"Are you too
terrified to plead, even for Kyle's life?"  Brigham lowered the torch to
the brush, then paused. 

Her heart
lurched.  Blood trickled from her bit lip onto her chin as she prayed for stoic
silence.  She would have all eternity to scream.

"You were
most vocal when you thought to destroy me, witch. And now, nary a word?  Then
I'll settle for your cries of torment."  He held the torch closer.  Wind
whipped the flames toward the brush.

"Nay!"

Lucinda's shouted
objection jerked Eleanor's attention to the sight of her sister running from
the row of cottages.

Brigham waved the
torch.  "Grab her!"

"Lucinda! 
Go back!  Hide!"  Eleanor hated that she had not bitten off her tongue, for
her warning would only encourage the dragon's sadism.

Brigham grinned. 
"Ah, Eleanor, you will beg me, after all.  What immoral acts might you
promise so as to entice me to spare your sister?  What lurid depravities would
you perform to lure me to douse the torch?  Be creative.  I would see you
demeaned."

Knights grabbed
Lucinda and shoved her to her knees at the edge of the brush, the torchlight
revealing the terror in her eyes.

"Please,
milord!  Don't burn Ellie!  She ain't a witch!"

"Should I
set up another stake, Eleanor?"

"Leave
Lucinda be, Brigham.  My sister has naught to do with this."

He motioned to
one of his men.  "See the third cottage from the end?  Burn it."

"Nay!" 
Eleanor couldn't stop her scream.

"Oh,
milord!  Don't burn me house!" 

Enraged, Eleanor
struggled against her ropes with as much impotence as an animal trussed for the
kill.  "You idiot!  'Twill set the entire village afire!"

Brigham laughed. 
"Aye, witch."

"You're
insane!"

The dry roof of
Lucinda's cottage flashed, then flared a devil's inferno, the flames spreading
in a heartbeat to the two flanking roofs, and then another as the dry thatch
sparked, then burst with a roar into a blaze, bright against the midnight sky. 

Past the flames,
the moon glowed on the horizon, swollen, ripe, as if to roll across the earth
and crush all life. 

White.  Against
black. 

Then the sky
turned red. 

Shrieks and
screams shrilled into the smoke-tinged air as shadowy figures fled from the
huts

"Me
children!  Someone save me children!"

Lucinda's cries
for Dwinna and Michael as her sister twisted to escape the knights' hold,
spurred Eleanor's rage.  "You would burn children to spite me?  Who will
you rule after all are slain, Brigham?  Vultures and carrion?  Not much of a
kingdom, although 'tis all you deserve."

"How
disappointed Lady Mellisande will be that she can't slice out your tongue.  To
appease her, I'll provide her with another wench to torture and have her
pretend 'tis you.  In fact, I'll choose Lucinda."

Bile stung
Eleanor's throat as she blinked back the tears that burned as hot as her
anger.  "Satan must be very pleased with you, Brigham.  You've earned a
special place in hell."

Brigham laughed
as if she had blessed him with a compliment.  "And you are my burnt
offering."  His eyes glowed in feverish anticipation, then Brigham thrust
the torch into the brush. 

Eleanor screamed
with terror, and cursed herself for her weakness.  Flames flickered, then
caught the outer fringes of the sprawled pile, crackling and spreading toward
her feet.  Smoke curled in the shimmering heat and stung her eyes, but whether
her tears were from smoke or fear, she knew not. 

Then the fire
leapt, obscuring all but the dragon on Brigham's surcote.   Her heart pummeled
against her ribs as if hysterical to escape her doomed body. The heat
intensified like when Brigham had held her hand over the fire when she tried to
save the wooden ship, but this time he wouldn't release her.  Frantic, she
jerked against the rope that bound her hands, drawing blood from her already
raw and aching wrists.  Unable to break loose, she struggled to reach up to
grasp the rose, but the bindings held her arms. 

Wind swirled the
smell of burnt flesh from the village.  Distant screams filled her ears, or
were they her own?  She bit her tongue, tasted blood.  Tears streamed down her
face.  Flames licked all around her.  Heat singed her slippers.  But why did
her flesh not burn?  The mud!  Her gown and slippers were soaked, coated with
mud from the pit.  How long ere the wetness dried?  And her hair?

Dear God!  Give
her courage! 

Hating the
twisting pain of helplessness that sapped the strength from her body, Eleanor
closed her eyes and concentrated on Kyle, on her love, for she loved him with a
passion that burrowed so deep within, the emotion would remain part of her for
all time, in this world, and the next.

The shouts
changed, catching her attention.  Inhaling painful, shallow gasps, she squinted
her tear-filled eyes to see past the smoke.

Brigham mounted
his steed, and in the rising . . .

The dragon
rose from the flames of hell
.

"He comes! 
Be ready!" 

Did Brigham mean
Kyle, or Hanley?  Hoofbeats trembled the earth, vibrating the stake against her
spine, then the smoke parted.