Rise of the Defender (89 page)

     “What was that all about?” Deborah gasped,
suddenly standing behind her.

     Dustin shook her head faintly, still
watching the cloaked figure. “We must find Chris. He should be at the
barracks.”

     “Do you believe her, then?” Deborah
demanded softly. “Who is she?”

     “The Earl of Fenwark's sister,” Dustin
replied. “Damn the man. He whored his own wife to the prince. Christopher said
he was evil and I should have listened. My Lord, what if….”

     She started to turn toward her
sister-in-law when a bloodcurdling scream filled the still air of the corridor.
Both women whirled around to see Lady Isobelle being stabbed repeatedly by a shrouded
figure in black. Astonished and horrified, they continued to watch in frozen
terror as the assailant cut Lady Isobelle brutally, not even stopping when the
woman fell to the ground. The pounding was merciless and driven, speaking of
unmentionable hatred and anger.

     Dustin was shocked to the core, too stunned
to even turn and run. She could hear Deborah's shrieks and feel her pulling on
her arm, but even as the attacker turned to the two of them and several more
mysterious figures appeared, she could not seem to make her feet move. But her
shock quickly wore off when she realized the figures were now coming for her.
And she knew they would kill her in the same grisly fashion. Panic surged
through her.

     “Run!” she roared to Deborah.

     Dustin had always been able to run like a
deer, but Deborah was having difficulty keeping up and the pursuers were
gaining. Unfortunately, they were in a deserted wing of the castle and there
was no one to hear their cries for help. Yet, they were also fairly close to
the rear courtyard and the paths that led to the barracks. Terror filled every
inch of her body like flowing fire and her chest burned with exertion as she
tore through the hall with Deborah on her heels. Lord, if they could only make
it to the outside door, they would have a chance.

     The door at the end of the hall that led to
the outside was locked. They pulled and tore at it, but the bolt was locked and
they obviously had no key. Despair swept over Dustin and Deborah began a
panicked chant, but neither would give up. Being intelligent woman who were
fighting for their very lives, they saw a chance to escape through the latticed
windows.

     Dustin smashed the wood with her hands,
scraping and cutting them, but that was nothing compared to what would happen
to her if the molesters caught up to them. She boosted Deborah up through the
window first, shoving the woman roughly through the small opening. Then, with
Deborah's help, she managed to thrust herself through the orifice, tearing her
surcoat to shreds with the jagged wood as she squirmed through, all the while
hearing the footsteps growing deafeningly loud as the men caught up to them.
With every footstep, her heart pounded harder and when she finally slipped
through the window and fell to the ground, it was with a shout of triumphant
relief.

     Deborah yanked her to her feet and they
were off and running again, pounding over the frozen earth but sweating rivers
with the exertion. A glance over her shoulder told Dustin that at least two
pursuers had made it through the window and were even now racing after them.

     “Deborah.” she gasped. “Can you make it to
the barracks?”

     Deborah was losing ground, jeopardizing
them both. “I....I can try.”

     Dustin’s heart was sinking even lower; she
could not leave Deborah behind but she obviously could not carry her. Dustin
knew she could make it to the barracks easily, slowing now to keep pace with
her sister-in-law. But any slower and they would be caught.

     “Go for the castle.” Dustin heaved. “Find
the soldiers!”

     An entrance to a main portion of the castle
was off to the right; Deborah could make it and then, find help. The crown
soldiers would protect her to the death. There was simply no way Deborah was
going to make it all the way to the troop grounds, and Dustin knew she had to
make it to her husband or she would never see him again. She knew instinctively
the pursuers to be after her. If she and Deborah split up, she hoped they would
concentrate more on her and give Deborah a chance to escape.

     “But… Dustin!” she cried. “I cannot leave
you.”

     “Leave me or we're both lost!” Dustin
shrieked. “Into the castle. Now!”

     She heard Deborah's panting cries as she
darted off for the castle. Dustin didn't even look to see how many were
pursuing her sister-in-law; she was confident Deborah could find help before
they were able to catch her.

     Dustin bound down one of the paths that led
through the wall and out into the open. As she was entering the short tunnel,
something hit the wall beside her and she shrieked; she caught a flash of metal
and knew it to be a well-aimed dagger. Driven by new terror, she tore through
the tunnel with amazing speed and emerged into the clearing that preceded the
troop grounds.

     The dead shrubs provided no coverage as she
raced through them, snagging her legs on the dry branches. Her chest was close
to exploding with the pain of her run, but she forced the discomfort away. She
knew she must be completely focused on her destination or all would be lost.

     Dustin could hear the footsteps behind her,
faint but unmistakable. It was no time before she emerged onto an open field,
sloping toward the vast arena and training grounds of the troops. It had begun
to mist, freezing water coating her, but she tore down the slope hearing her
heart pounding in her ears and praying to God to let her make it to
Christopher. She could not even think of Deborah anymore; she was only
concerned with her own precious hide.

     She rounded the side of the arena and was
met with the sounds of a horse thundering toward her. Knowing it was a pursuer
coming to catch her, she dipped under the wooden rail of the arena to separate
herself from the horseman, catching a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye
and hearing shouts as he re-routed his men. Dustin tore a wild trail across the
arena, the very same arena where Christopher had been injured, and scampered
out the other side into a bank of dormant oak trees.

     Dustin could see people up ahead of her at
the stables and she screamed at the top of her lungs to them to find Baron
Christopher. Her whole body was aching desperate and she knew she could not go
much farther; she could only pray that the stunned groomsmen would help her.

     She could hear that damnable horse again,
behind her and gaining rapidly. Fortunately, she was close to the stables now
and ran an obstacle course though a couple of wagons, pulling the front of one
askew to slow her pursuers. She raced inside one of the enclosed stable wings
and ran down the wide open corridor, hoping the man on horseback wouldn't
pursue her inside the stable. Her ears peaked, for she no longer heard the
hooves and a fleeting bit of hope touched her. Mayhap she would make it, after
all.

     But the hope was premature, for as soon as
she exited the stable, the man on horseback was waiting for her. Dustin skidded
to a halt and crashed into the horse, slamming heavily into it and landing on
her arse. Panic surging through her, she scrambled underneath the dancing
animal and fought off an assailant who tried to grab her skirts. Screaming
bloody murder at them, she stumbled and ran off as fast as her shaky legs would
carry her.

     There was shouting going on all around her,
but she was too consumed with her own fear to see that the stable hands were
fighting off her attackers, stabbing them with pitchforks and trying to slow
their progress. She continued to run, her breathing coming in ragged gasps,
straining to keep the pace as she madly dashed along the L-shaped back of
stalls and rounded the corner. Relief began to fill her when she saw the
barracks and several hundred troops not far ahead.

     But her head was beginning to swim and her
arms and legs were beginning to feel strange, as if she were losing control
over them. But she pushed, pushed, pushed, pressing onward because her very
life hung in the balance. She had to make it to the soldiers or die.

     Through her swirling vision, she saw men in
armor running toward her and she knew with flooding relief she had reached
safety. But she could not seem to stop running until one of the men reached out
and grabbed her.

     “Jesus. Dustin!” It was David. “What is the
mat…?”

     He was cut off and she heard a huge crash
of metal on metal. Dustin screamed and fell away from David, trying to scramble
away from him as she heard the unmistakable sounds of a sword fight over her
head. There was a great deal of shouting and yelling, and suddenly she was
surrounded by soldiers. Someone grabbed at her, but she slapped at them and
whirled away, taking two or three swaggering steps before collapsing in an
exhausted heap on the frozen earth.     

     Dustin was still conscious but so miserable
and wiped-out that she almost didn't care what happened to her anymore. She lay
on her back, harsh gasps for air filling her ears and her head was rocking
wildly. Tears of pure agony filled her eyes as the sounds of swordplay grew
fainter and then there was someone beside her. She jumped, making a feeble
attempt to rise, but a huge hand stilled her.

     “Christ, Dustin, are you all right? What
happened?” Christopher gathered his wife up against him.

     Dustin could not breathe because sobs were
constricting her throat, and she could not talk because she could not breathe.
The sobs won over the talking, but she was gasping so she sounded as if she
were dying. She felt like it, too.

     “Calm down, sweetheart, calm down,” Christopher
said soothingly, ripping off his helmet. “You are safe now. Just breathe,
sweet,
breathe
.”

     She was trying to, truly, but she could not
seem to catch her breath. “Deborah,” she rasped.

     Christopher was already filled with panic
as his wife struggled to breathe in his arms, but when she spat his sister's
name, his panic doubled. He whirled to the nearest knight. “Go find my sister,”
he barked. “Take a company of men with you.”

     “In....in the castle,” Dustin gasped. “The
west w-wing.”

     The knight heard and was gone, roaring to
the men-at-arms as he went. Dustin could only lay there, in agony with every
breath she took, trying to calm herself down.

     Edward bent over her, his handsome face
creased with concern. Christopher held out his gloved hand to him and Edward
silently ripped the gauntlet off. Christopher's left hand, the wedding band
gleaming dully in the dim daylight, caressed Dustin's flushed face. He didn't
speak, knowing she needed a moment to collect herself, and then he would know
all.

     Dustin's hands flew to her face, covering
it for a moment as her breathing calmed. Then, the fingers splayed and the
great gray eyes opened and focused on her husband.

     “Earl....the Earl of Fenwark tried to kill
me,” she finally whispered. “You must find Deborah.”

     “What?” Christopher said, outraged. “What
are you saying?”

     She struggled to sit up, Edward gently
pulling her arm and Christopher supporting her back. Between coughs and
sniffles, she managed to spit out the entire story. When she was finished,
Christopher's face was the picture of fury and it scared the wits from her.

     “Then those men chasing you were
assassins.” It was more a statement than a question, and he looked at Edward.
“All of my knights to me.
Now
.”

     Edward nodded grimly and rushed off, his
armor jingling. Dustin, infinitely more composed, brushed stray bits of hair
from her face and watched her husband closely. His gaze seemed to be following
Edward, even after the man had disappeared from view, before returning to her
once again. When he saw how intently she was looking at him, he smiled bravely.
Too
bravely.

     “My courageous little wife,” he said as he
leaned forward and kissed her head. “Do you feel well enough to stand from this
damp earth?”

     Dustin, suspicious of his ready smile, nodded
and rose unsteadily to her feet. Christopher kept a good grip on her, watching
as his soldiers hauled away one of the men who had been chasing after his wife.
He saw, with pleasure, that his men had literally disemboweled the bastard.
Dustin watched, too, with morbid curiosity but turned away after as they passed
by.

     “What are you going to do now?” she asked.
“Lady Isobelle said the earl was moving his army north tonight and that he
plans to attack Tickhill Castle. She wanted you to know. But her story about
Lady Gabrielle… can you imagine that her husband gave her to the prince as a
gift? I have never heard of such a vile thing.”

     Christopher digested the information, his
cunning mind beginning to calculate the course of the immediate future. He wasn’t
surprised to hear the information; in fact, he was grateful, at least for the
intelligence on Tickhill. There had been rumors but nothing concrete. Now, he
had a starting place.

     “I am not shocked,” he admitted. “What else
did she say?”