Nightbound (31 page)

As they approached him, Beau recognized Lucan, and remembered to bow as the suzerain halted in front of him. “Good evening, Lord Alenfar.”

“Warrior.” The former assassin eyed the front of his tunic. “Are you aware that you are bleeding all over yourself?”

“Aye, my lord. A traitor infiltrated the keep and has taken my woman. I was wounded trying to stop him.” Beau glanced back at the castle. “Forgive me; I would escort you inside and summon my lady, but I must go now if I am to recover her.”

“Not with that copper slug burning in your flesh.” Lucan reached one gloved hand into his jacket and offered the dagger he drew out to the Kyn standing beside him. “I believe you have some experience with this sort of extraction, Korvel.”

Beau shook his head. “There is no time. If I do not pursue them now, they will surely kill her—”

“While you will surely drop dead of copper poisoning before you can reach her. I will have it out quickly,” Korvel promised. When Beau nodded, he said, “Stand against the wall.” He turned to the youthful-looking warrior. “Lord Jamys, hold him, if you would.”

Jamys used his arms to brace Beau in place, and Korvel tore aside his shirt before slipping the tip of the dagger into his wound. Beau bit back a howl as white-hot pain sizzled through his joint and down his arm.

“I nearly have it.” The Kyn lord deftly worked the slug out of his flesh, and caught it in his palm, tossing it away.

“Here, brother.” Jamys bit his palm, and clamped it over the wound.

“I am in your debt.” As the pain eased, Beau regarded Lucan. “Might I borrow your vehicle, my lord?”

“And drip your blood all over the hand-sewn leather interior?” The suzerain sniffed. “I think not.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Lucan.” Korvel looked disgusted. “It’s only a car.”

“I beg to differ. It is a Ferrari.” He glared at his companion. “My
favorite
Ferrari, as it happens.”

“Take mine.” Jamys pressed his keys into Beau’s hand.

“My thanks, Lord Jamys. Suzerain. Lord Korvel.” With another hasty bow Beau ran to the Porsche.

Once out on the road, Beau lowered the window to
let the night air stream inside. Being locked up inside the van had effectively cut off Alys’s scent, but it was easy enough to pick up and follow the fresh exhaust left from the van’s engine. By the time he reached the back roads leading to Tremayne’s property, Beau knew where he would find her.

He drove to the site, leaving the Porsche hidden behind the church before he struck out on foot for the Europeans’ camp. The dull throbbing in his shoulder hardly registered now, but his fear that he would not reach Alys in time swelled with every yard he ran.

They wouldn’t have taken her if they meant to kill her immediately,
Beau thought as he vaulted over the fence and made for the Europeans’ camp.
They must need her to…

He stopped as the stink of fire and spilled blood and violent death filled his lungs, and listened to the wind before he slowly approached the camp. He found the first body where it had fallen in the brush; the man had been shot in the back while running from the camp.

More bodies appeared as he moved toward the tents: all of them dead, most of them shot. Two had been repeatedly stabbed; one had his throat cut. From the tracks left in the dirt they had been attacked by at least two dozen well-trained killers. All of the team’s equipment had been burned, as well as their RVs.

Beau spotted one partially melted bag containing a potsherd, and when he picked it up, he could still make out some of Alys’s handwriting on the label. He also caught the scent of the killers, who had gone south, and dropped the bag as he followed their trail.

When he reached the grove of trees concealing the
Americans’ camp, he smelled Alys’s scent and nearly fell to his knees. She was alive, and very close; he could almost hear the frantic beating of her heart in his ears.

I’m coming, love.

The first explosion came a few moments after Jayr had ordered Harlech to double the patrols.

“Down.” Byrne shielded her with his body as stone chips and dust rained over them. A low, deep rumble shook the floor beneath them, swelling to a roar and then dying away,

“That sounded like the forward tower curtain. For once he told the truth.” Jayr brushed the debris from her lover’s back as he helped her to her feet. “Sound the alarm.”

Byrne went over to the square device in the wall that was marked
FIRE ALARM
and punched through the glass before pulling down the handle inside. Instantly a screeching, repeating wail echoed throughout the castle.

Jayr went to the weapons cache in her cabinet and took out her sword. It was the sight of the battle-ax beside it, however, that gave her pause. “Aedan, if I could spare you this…”

“I know you would, lass.” His big hand rested on her shoulder. “But you’ve stopped me before, and you will have need of my affliction now.”

She nodded, removing the ax and passing it to him. “Try to hold on to your senses for as long as you can.” She reached up to kiss him quickly. “I love you.”

He held her hand against his heart. “And I you, wife.”

Byrne shouldered his ax and made for the garrison, while Jayr climbed the inner-ward tower to the highest
point of the castle, a fortified room lined with monitors projecting every possible view of the keep, along with her communications array. Once inside, Jayr slipped on her headset and studied the screens to survey the damage to the curtain wall.

Beneath the gaping hole in the face of the ashlar, rubble had poured into the moat. Dozens of inflatable rafts propelled by small outboard motors were already crossing the waters and making for the sloped bank. On the opposite bank, two men shouldering a large pipelike device were taking aim at the castle.

Jayr enabled her microphone. “Trebuchet to the opposite bank, fifteen degrees left of tower two, fire at will. Archers, north battlement, commence the hailstorm.”

Arrows rained down on the first men attempting to climb the slope of the inner bank, skewering them to the ground. At the same time a massive ball of flame soared across the moat, smashing into the pair with the rocket launcher and setting off an even larger explosion.

Jayr rapidly relayed orders to her defender units as the intruders scattered in all directions. She almost relaxed until she saw the lines of armed men marching out of the groves.

“Aedan, they’ve a second wave carrying in flamethrowers from the south,” she warned her seneschal. “Stable master, release the horses and withdraw to the outer ward.”

“Stay aloft, my lady,” Byrne’s voice rumbled over her earpiece. “We’ll attend to these trespassers.”

“We’ve no one faster than me,” she reminded him as she scanned the monitors. “They’re moving in from all sides now. The Realm is surrounded.”

“Then they best buckle on their helmets,” Byrne growled before he began issuing orders. “Crossbowmen to the back loops—”

Jayr removed her headset and secured the transmitter before she took out her battle armor from a storage trunk under the console. While she could move faster than the eye could see, she had no illusions about how well her Kyn talent would protect her. She might dodge an arrow, but not a bullet or ground-launched rocket. To survive the night, she would have to be as clever as she was quick.

On her way down to the lower level Jayr heard three voices in the corridor, and flashed the rest of the way to stop in front of Lucan. Her sudden appearance made his two companions start in surprise, but the suzerain merely cocked a brow.

“Someone should really put a bell on you, my lady.” He exchanged bows with her. “Perhaps after the mortals have finished playing at siege.”

“My apologies for the unseemly reception, and the inconvenience of the attack, my lord.” She gestured toward the staircase. “You may take refuge in the loft while we deal with the attack.”

“What, and miss all the hacking and dismembering and beheading?” He drew off his gloves. “Please, Jayr. Don’t deny me my little amusements.”

“What he means to say, my lady,” Korvel put in, “is that we would be happy to assist with your defense. He’s also summoned his garrison. They should arrive in a few hours.”

“Did you have to spoil the surprise?” Lucan demanded.

“Thank you, Captain Korvel. If you would join Harlech in the bailey, he will be glad of your counsel and experience. Lord Durand, your blade will be welcome among my swordsmen at the outer ward.” She turned to Lucan. “My lord, thank you for sending for your men. I must inspect the perimeter and assess the traitors’ numbers and resources, so if you are willing, I will give you the keep.”

“My lady.” A glint of respect shone in his cold eyes. “I shall hold it safe until your return.”

Jayr used the postern passage to enter the escape tunnel under the castle, and flashed through it until she reached the moat lock. After she sealed herself inside the watertight room, she braced herself and pressed the button to open the outer doors.

Water flooded the chamber, immersing her in seconds. She swam out through the doors, turning long enough to seal them before she kicked her way to the surface.

She came up into the frigid air beneath a low-hanging fringe of branches from the holly Byrne had planted along the very edge of the moat’s inner bank to provide concealment. From her position she could see a few boats still floating, their occupants covered with arrows, but the bulk of the rafts had retreated to the outer bank. She glanced up to see the finest of her garrison’s snipers still holding position behind the machicolations, each man’s weapon poised and ready to fire.

Jayr sank beneath the water and swam across the moat to emerge beneath the platform that connected to the bridges to permit vehicles into the castle courtyard. As soon as the general alarm had been sounded, her
men in the barbican towers had locked the bridges at the bottom of the moat; the attackers would not be able to raise them again without access to the tower controls. She crept up the bank, keeping her body close to the earth to avoid being spotted as she listened to the mortals several feet away.

“—that pontoon ready to launch in one hour,” a harsh voice ordered. “Move the rocket launchers into position, and have the sharpshooters take out those emergency lights.”

Jayr breathed in, appalled by the number of scents she detected. From what she had seen on the monitors, she had guessed the mortals numbered only a few hundred; she smelled close to a thousand or more. The attackers outnumbered her men three to one, and with their sheer numbers and explosives they might breach their defenses before Lucan’s garrison could reach the Realm.

We do not die so easily.

She crawled back down to the edge and slipped into the water. A daring idea began to form in her mind as she swam along the entire length of the moat, surfacing every few hundred feet to survey the positions of the mortals. At last she reached the underwater entrance to the lock and used it to reenter the postern tunnel.

She stripped out of her sodden armor, leaving it in the tunnel as she flashed back up into the keep. She found Lucan in the main hall, standing watch on the gallery. “They’re preparing a pontoon. They’ll use their rockets to cover the launch, which will be in less than an hour.” She pulled down from a recess in the wall a large map of the Realm and the land surrounding it.

Lucan jumped down to the floor and joined her. “They’re not fools. This time they’ll shield the pontoon from your archers. How many are there?”

“A thousand, perhaps more. Once they breach the walls—and they will—we’ll be overrun before your men arrive.” She glanced at him. “Unless we invite them in first by raising the bridges, and opening the gates.”

He scowled at her. “My lady, Kyn do not surrender to mortals, or anyone, for that matter.”

“This I know, my lord.” She replaced the map. “But who said anything about surrendering?”

Lucan regarded her in silence for several moments before he smiled. “I like you, Jayr. I like you very much.”

“Good to know someone’s happy.” Alexandra Keller leaned against the doorway, her expression dazed. “Me, I’ve been shot. Every time I come to this fucking place, I get shot. Oops, there go my knees again.” She slid down to the floor.

Jayr hurried over with Lucan and helped her to a bench, checking her over before she looked up at the suzerain. “I don’t see any blood.”

“She doesn’t have any,” he drawled. “Only ice runs through those veins.”

“Shut up, Lucan, before I make you slap yourself. There isn’t any blood, Jayr. The bastard tranq’d me.” She rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes. “It’s wearing off, and I’ll be fine. I heard about the siege, and I’ve got your ladies setting up the infirmary for casualties. Just tell me where you stashed the girls.”

Jayr frowned. “I’m sorry; the girls?”

“Simone and Chris? My patients?” Alex looked from
her to Lucan and back again. “You didn’t take them out of the infirmary and put them somewhere safer. Great. That means the shooter has them, too.”