Conquering the Dark Axe (30 page)

BOOK: Conquering the Dark Axe
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Rourke wanted to be sick and he nigh choked on the
bile as his eyes rested on the young soldier's still form.

He closed his eyes and made a vow. He would get
vengeance for the many lives lost here and would see that their families were
seen to if he made it out of here alive.

 

His own painful groans drew him from his dark dreams
and Rourke opened his eyes to darkness. The single lit torch shed little light
inside the reeking dungeon, but he could make out his men huddled together and
asleep on the floor.  He let out a sigh of relief when his eyes fell on
the table to see that they had removed the body of the young soldier. 

Rourke dropped his head back against the wall and
closed his eyes. Doubt set in.

He had to come to the realization that they may not
make it out of here.

He’d no way to reach the knives in his boots, he
wasn’t even sure if they still remained intact and hidden. Even Raven didn’t
know his little secret. Were he to get even one hand free, Rourke knew he would
be able to get free.

He banged his head back against the wall in
frustration. His mortality hit him like a crushing weight and he was not ready.

His heart burned, strained for his wife.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled and swore he smelled
her scent and working his tongue, he tasted the sweet taste of her flesh on the
tip. He let out a small laugh.

He was going mad.

He whispered aloud into the darkness, “Alexa.” 
Like a chant her name went over and over in his head until he drifted off to
sleep with the memories of her.

 

Rourke woke shivering and delirious later, the
stinging pain in his side itched like a hundred hornets were attacking him. His
men were groggy, but awake and greeted him.

He opened his mouth to ask how far any of them may
have gotten with their chains when the keys were heard and Raven entered with
his troop. 

Immediately Rourke knew something was wrong.

Raven burst in and instructed his guards to grab his
remaining soldiers. His men fought wildly for their lives, but Raven’s men had
weapons. Raven came and stood near Rourke.

“The watcher sent word that William’s men and yours
are coming from the east. Ah, what your liege will not do for your rescue,
bastard.”

Who was running the lead Rourke wondered. Had Goran
made it back and sniffed out the trail? But now, Rourke was concerned about his
men fighting Raven’s in the corner. Goran and the king’s men would not make it
in time to save them.

Rourke hung his head as the guards ran his soldiers
through, their cries of pain would haunt him for many nights to come and he
glared death into Raven’s eyes.

“Take him down and get him to the table! Quickly!”
Raven ordered with a snarl just as the guard John and his partner entered the
room.

The tension in the room grew even thicker when all
eyes fell on what John carried.

Rourke's axe.

The guard threw it to the dirt floor.  Raven's
face morphed into one of black rage and curses flew from his mouth before he
faced John and spoke each word slowly.

"What the hell is that doing here?"

The air in the room shifted ominously and Rourke
felt it. 

These men weren’t the fools Raven had thought. Their
fears and superstitions had gotten the better of them. Facing the wrath of a
powerful overlord was one thing, but to suffer William’s swift and ruthless
justice had obviously given them pause and Rourke knew the instant Raven
noticed.

Too late he reached for the axe at his waist when
the first man, John’s partner, swung his dagger, cutting the back of Raven's
hand. Then John swung his long dagger across Raven's back, slashing deep and he
fell to his knees with a shocked cry of bloody outrage at the mutiny.

The other guards ran from the room, but John and his
partner remained and quickly unlocked the poles holding the manacles in place.
Rourke’s arms dropped as though weighted down by stone to his sides. He was too
weak to fight and thought they sought to end his life too.

But they surprised him when John’s partner spoke
over him, not too close, but close enough for him to hear.

"You remember 'twas me and Johnny here that set
you free. My horse is out front tied to a big tree. Take it and go. Don’t go
forgetting, Dark Axe, 'twas us that set you free."

Rourke could say naught for a paralyzing coughing
spasm seized him as he tried to draw in a painful breath.  When he next
lifted his spinning head, not only were the two men gone.

So was Raven.

Rage filled him anew as he struggled to his feet
with the chains dragging like lead across the dirt. It took a bit of effort to
pick up his axe, but once it was in his hands, Rourke felt a pulse of
adrenaline pump through his veins.

He spotted blood droplets leading out the door. The
cuts they'd delivered to Raven had not been enough to kill him. Had the men
dragged him out or had the Raven escaped death once again?

 

Rourke considered the two men could have easily been
lying to him, but he was in too much pain to worry of another ambush as he
dragged his aching body, axe in hand out of the hellhole and through piles of
debris of the rundown wood and mortar manor to the outside.

When he saw the horse tethered to the tree Rourke
expelled a painful breath and hope filled his chest. He’d only one thing on his
mind.

Get back to Alexa.

Rourke’s prayers continued to work in his favor when
he saw what he believed were more of either Raven’s or Richard’s men sacked out
front. The fool’s lost in cheap drink lay flopped over barrels and the ground
in their own piss and snores.

Clucking his tongue to the big horse, Rourke managed
to untie the beast and climb up onto its back after a brief struggle. The horse
was skittish at first from the sound of the irons at his wrist and the large
axe. The horse was not as strong or as big as Black, but sturdy enough to get
him hopefully where he needed to go. Leaning down, Rourke felt along the top of
his boots with numb and stinging fingers and slid the last two blades from
their hidden compartment and tucked them into the top of his breeches.

In the dark, with his sight still not all that great
and his strength weakening by the hour, Rourke knew he would need the small
knives to be at a closer reach if he ran into any surprises. He was still too
weak to swing his axe.

Shirtless, Rourke did not know if he shivered from
the cold, the pain or the fever coming on from the blistering wound under his
arm. Ignoring the blazing hot pain that caused his teeth to chatter, he took
the reins and turned the horse round and rode into the trees crouched over the
horses’ neck with a prayer that he rode east.

THIRTY-SIX

 

Dawn had come cold as ever, but the sun beat
brightly through the windows lighting up the chamber and warming her heart. The
healer’s words from last night came back to Alexa.

She would not suffer her mother's curse.

She was not barren after all.

Quickly dressing, she left the chamber with the
guards behind her. She didn't go to the room she had gone to for the past
sennight. She walked through the manor to outside and crossed to the end of the
wall walk.

The cold snap of the morning turned her cheeks red,
and she loosened the cloak she wore around her shoulders and let the cold seep
deeper into her flesh. The guards watched her.

her hair unbound, loose wild and the wind had its
way with her and whipped it around her like a whip, across her torso and long
legs encased in the breeches she had donned. She closed her eyes and breathed
in deeply. She heard a commotion near but ignored it.  The cold was like a
cleansing of her soul and when she next opened her eyes, Alexa stared at that
spot she'd looked to for a fortnight.  The hilly marsh.

Turning she saw that Goran had joined her husband's
men.

He gave her a curious and concerned look. "My
lady?"

"Ready everything. He still lives. We shall
ride out and meet him."

Goran's concerned expression changed quickly to deep
anguish. 

Alexa tied her hair into a fast and sure knot and
gave him a smile. "I am not mad, Sir Goran. Come, ride out with me. All of
you."

Goran made to protest, then decided against it and
held a hand up to quiet the upset that ran through the men. "As you wish,
my lady."

Alexa smiled and walked past him.

Goran sighed. Sadness clung to the deep grief he
carried as he watched her.

His friend’s wife had gone stark raving mad.

Looking out over the hilly marsh, Goran sighed. No
rider was visible other than the watchers.

 

Alexa felt free as the cold wind stirred her bones
under the long cape she wore. She knew Goran did not believe her, thought her
quite mad. She could feel the burning looks of sadness he threw her way as he
rode beside her up the grassy knoll.  She did not care.

By the end of the day she would prove her feeling
true. Or at least she prayed she would in the coming days.

When she'd awakened, something she could not explain
had burned wildly in her heart. The acceptance of the babe was one, the other-

Had drawn her out of a deep sleep during the night
and she would not tell Goran what it was. He would believe she’d dreamt it. She
could still hear it in her head.

Rourke had called her name.

It had been so clear as if he'd been standing right
in the room with her. But when she'd woken, expecting to see him standing there
beside their bed, he was not. Yet his voice had been so real, sounded so loud
and pained in her ear. She did not question the possibility of how.

But she knew he lived. 

She felt it.

And she still did later as by midday they came to a
stop on the grassy knoll. 

Goran was silent and she was glad. She’d no wish to
engage in conversation.  Alexa took in the sight of the fields and green
plains. She would sit here every day if she had to if it meant Rourke’s return
and she would be right here to greet him.

 

It took a while but eventually Rourke figured out
the pounding in his skull was that of hoof beats. Many coming in his direction.
His body was on fire and his head lay against the horse’s neck. He swore he
heard someone shout his name. With his strength near its last Rourke struggled
and managed to lift his head.

‘Twas dawn.

He saw the figures on horseback bearing down on him at
great speed. But it was the rider in front he focused his blurry vision
on.  The riders reached him just as he felt himself slipping sideways from
the horse.

Strong arms and thighs stopped his fall. The man who
had caught him shouted something over his head and Rourke blinked back the
waiting darkness.

He needed to say something before his last breath
left him to this man.

“D-Da-” Rourke damned his parched throat.

“Do not speak. Wait. Water!” Darc Renald shouted
again over his head.

The coolness of the water brought little relief and
it came back up. Rourke clutched fiercely at Darc’s hand that held the
sheepskin. 

“The R-Raven.” Rourke choked out.

“He is dead, Rourke. I’m going to get you home, my
friend.”

“Not de-dead. I saw his face,” Rourke managed on his
last strangled breath.

Darc stared down into Rourke’s bruised, swollen and
bloodied face.

He knew his friend was delirious with the fever set
upon him. But in the moment he'd spoken of their mutual enemy, his green eyes
had been bright with clarity and free of fever.

The Dark Axe had spoken truth.

 

The moment Alexa spotted Darc and his men coming
over the rise a raw cry of anguish erupted from her lips and she felt herself
sliding off the gray gelding. The scene before her spinning and she felt
sickness in her gut. She vaguely heard Goran’s shout as she ran past him as if
the hounds of hell were gnashing at her heels. She was already off and running
toward Darc's horse, her breath ragged.

God, nay! Alexa cried or thought she did as the
burning started in her chest. She needed to breathe, but could not. The limp
form on the pallet could not be Rourke's.

He lay so still.

His chest did not rise or fall with breath. Someone
was speaking to her.

Darc Renald’s deep voice cut through the high
pitched roar that burst from her burning lungs.

"My lady, he is gravely wounded, but he lives.
We wrapped his wounds as best as we could," said Darc.

Alexa’s gut clenched. The lieutenant lied. Too much
blood not only matted her husband's golden hair, but the wool blanket in which
he was wrapped was soaked in it.

Blood.

Everywhere.

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