The Dark One: Dark Knight (124 page)

     Guy stumbled to a halt, astonished beyond
belief. Gaston rounded the corner and saw Guy standing there, victory within
his grasp until he too saw Rory standing several feet in front of Guy. Gaston
came to a halt and nearly tripped over a rug in his amazement.

     Rory just stood there, gazing at Guy
serenely. It was an expression Gaston had never seen before on her face, and he
furthermore wondered if he was hallucinating. Guy was frozen to the spot in
front of him; Gaston should have taken the opportunity to kill him right there,
but he couldn't seem to overcome his shock at seeing a ghost.

     “Rory!” Guy bellowed.

     The apparition did not respond to him, simply
continuing to gaze as if she were looking right through him. Dressed in the
emerald green surcoat she had been buried in, Gaston took a good hard look.
Never had he seen her look lovelier, her red hair flowing and soft, her pretty
face bordering on a smile. In spite of his shock, he found himself smiling at
the surprise of it all.

     “You said she was dead!” Guy boomed.

     “She is,” Gaston replied with amazing calm.

     Guy clenched his fists, terrified out of
his mind. “Good God!”

     Rory had effectively blocked his path down
the corridor. Rather than rush a specter, Guy turned abruptly to his left and
chose another route. The route to the tower.

     Gaston let him go for a moment, knowing
there was nowhere to go inside the tower. Instead, he continued to gaze at Rory
and was not surprised when the vision focused on him. His smile grew wider and
he swore he saw her smile broaden, too. It was as if she were lending Gaston
assistance by sending Guy into the twisting confines of the tower. As if she
had known that Guy was gaining headway on Gaston and most likely would have
evaded him down the length of the long corridor.

     Gaston took a step toward her, his initial
shock turning into fascination. She continued to smile at him and he could see
every detail on her face, Remington's eyes, Jasmine's nose. There was no light,
no aura. Had he reached out to touch her, he would have sworn he would have
grasped flesh.

     “Rory?” he said timidly.

     She did not answer him but continued to
look at him gently. He heard sounds in the tower and briefly turned to look,
but his attention riveted back to the apparition in front of him. As helpless
as she had been all these years against Guy Stoneley, she had contributed
heavily to the final battle to do away with his evil once and for all.

     “Thank you,” Gaston whispered.

     He ducked inside the tower. Guy was two
stories above him rushing for the room in which Charles, Dane and Trenton were
held. Gaston eyed the man a moment before mounting the stairs, knowing there
was nowhere for Guy to go once he reached the top. His pace slowed dramatically
as he climbed.

     Guy saw Gaston below him as he reached the
door to the tower. Laying into the latch heavily, he was shocked to find it
bolted from the inside. Angered and panicked, he rattled it loudly.

     “Who's in here?” he yelled. “Open the damn
door.”

     There was no response forthcoming. Again,
he rattled the latch so heavily that he cut his palms on the iron handle. He
kicked at the door, all the while hearing Gaston's footsteps drawing closer and
closer. Anxiety cut at him; unless he was planning to jump or unless he found a
weapon, quickly, he was as good a dead. De Russe was closing in on him.

     He began to kick at the door as if he could
force it open. He punched at it, driving his fists against the oak as he did
when he beat his wife. The Dark One was on the landing below him and Guy could
feel the weight of his stare, knowing that when he turned to face him that he
would only read death in his eyes.

     But he couldn't help himself from peering
over his shoulder. De Russe was approaching him with the look of the Grim
Reaper, his massive sword gleaming in the weak light. Panic shot through Guy
and he pounded on the door one last time, as if that would make any difference.
As if somehow fate would step in and open it.

     But the door remained closed. Guy,
hysterical with anxiety, knew he was breathing his last. As a final show of
bravery, or mayhap cowardice, he turned to face the Dark One.

     Smoky orbs met with ice blue. Gaston paused
six steps down from Guy, staring at his quarry with open contempt. There was
something he wanted to say before he gutted the man.

     “What I do now, I do on behalf of Remi and
Rory, Jasmine and Skye. Women you tortured for nine long years. When I drive my
blade into your gut, it will be small compensation for those years you stole
from them, but it’s the least I can do. Their comfort will have to come from
the fact that you will burn in the sulfur pits for all eternity,” he was calm
and controlled as he raised his blade. “But most of all, I do this for
Remington.”

     Guy was ashen as he listened to the speech.
His mouth worked as he formed a reply when the tower door flew open.

     “My lord! Your weapon!” Charles cried.

     Guy whirled around and caught the dull
blade. Glee and hope flooded him and he crowed with the thrill of a second
chance. In a flash, he spun around to Gaston and held high the blade.

     “Pretty speech, de Russe.” he exclaimed.
“Now let us see who indeed is going to burn in the sulfur pits of hell.”

     Gaston was stunned at Charles' action,
betrayal at the deepest level. Horrified, he wondered if Charles had not killed
Dane and Trenton and if all along he was allied with Guy. But he couldn't
linger on that thought now, not with an imminent attack on his hands.

     Guy’s sword came up and Gaston moved into a
defensive position, at a distinct disadvantage on the stairs as he was. But he
would have to compensate somehow. All that mattered now was that Guy bore a
weapon and he did not relish a sword battle in the steep confines of the tower.

     He waited for the down parry. And waited.
Guy still held the sword aloft, but there was a strange look to his eye. The
triumphant smile on his face was slowly turning into a grimace of horror and
Gaston eyed him with deep curiosity. Why did he not strike?

     Guy was listing dangerously to the right,
sword still aloft, face still glazed with a grimacing expression. He continued
to lean, to fall, and Gaston watched as Guy toppled over the top landing and
disappeared into empty space. Shocked, Gaston peered over the side of the
stairs and watched incredulously as Guy fell five stories to his death below.
Guy perished in a loud thud of bone against stone, instead of the soft hiss of
steel through flesh.

     Gaston was stunned. He continued to peer
down into the dark depths of the tower as if he were unable to comprehend what
had happened. Guy was dead, but he had not killed him. Somehow, he had fallen
to his death. Astonished, Gaston turned his gaze to Charles, still standing in
the open tower door.

     Only Charles was not alone. Dane and
Trenton were squinting into the bowels of the tower as well.

     “What in the hell happened?” Gaston managed
to choke.

     The three boys looked at him and Charles
smiled. From his side, he raised his arm and clutched within his fist was a
small, bloodied blade that looked suspiciously like a child's sword. It took
Gaston a moment to realize it was Arik's sword.

     “I killed him,” Charles said. “With this.”

     Gaston was literally white with shock and
disbelief. “You...you
killed
him?”

     Charles nodded. “Dane wanted to, but I
insisted that he let me do it,” he said, afraid that his hero was not pleased.
“I did not think it right that he kill his father, and this is not Trenton's
fight. It was only logical that I do it.”

     Gaston gazed back down into the dark depths
one last time, the clarity of the situation dawning on him. “You knew he would
turn to you when you opened the door, thwarting any striking him from behind.
So you tossed him the sword to distract him and when he turned to attack
me....”

     “Charles jammed Arik's sword right into his
back.” Dane finished for his father. “It was my plan.”

     Gaston couldn't decide if he felt more like
vomiting or fainting. He opted for neither and smiled weakly at his son. “A
brilliant strategy, Dane. I'd expect no less. But where did you find Arik's
sword?”

     “I gave it to Charles when I left for
Oxford,” Dane replied. “He kept it in the tower and practiced with it when
Roald and the other knights went to bed.”

     Gaston sank back against the tower wall, wiping
at his sweaty, bloody head. He was completely dazed, but not senseless. The
boys watched him eagerly as he composed himself as best he was able and then
mounted the rest of the stairs towards them. They were expecting praise, or a
spanking, but instead Gaston did the unexpected.

     He pulled them all into a giant bear hug
and wept.

EPILOGUE

“By the power vested in
me by God and his Holiness, Pope Innocent VIIII, I have the pleasure of
pronouncing you man and wife. My lord, you may kiss your bride.”

     Gaston tore his eyes off Archbishop
Bourchier and focused on the radiant vision before him. Lady Remington de Russe
smiled back, tears already coursing over her cheeks as he took her in his arms
and kissed her far more passionately than he should have in front of the
church. Remington sobbed through the kiss and Gaston chuckled as he released
her to a chorus of applause. Westminster Abbey had never been quite so gay.

     Bourchier was the first man to congratulate
the happy couple, unusual that the clergy should include themselves in the well
wishers. Henry and Elizabeth could barely wait for Gaston and Remington to
descend from the dais before pushing forward with hearty best wishes. Everyone
seemed completely intent on congratulating them all at once so Gaston merely
stood in one spot while his friends kissed his new wife and shook his hand
happily. Matthew Wellesbourne went so far as to coordinate the admiring throng,
making sure no one person occupied the duke’s time for too long before ushering
them along their way to make room for the next well-wisher.

     The guests knew full well that there was to
be a lavish reception following the wedding at the Tower, yet none could wait
that long to convey their wishes. After all, Gaston and Remington had waited terribly
long for this day and the excitement was tangible.

     Dane and Trenton stood next to their
parents like proper young men, dressed in their finest. Guests would file by
and slip the boys coins as congratulatory gifts, which they would stuff happily
into their tunics. It wasn't long before they were quite rich and looking
eagerly for more wealth. Gaston saw what was happening above all the commotion
and shot them both reproving looks, to which they smiled innocently. Unwilling
to dampen their day, Gaston allowed his sons to become wealthy off the tribute
from the guests.

     Jasmine and Skye remained seated in the
pews as the throng rushed forward to congratulate the newlyweds, bouncing
Sophia and Robert on their respective knees and attempting to keep Mary
entertained. Beside them, Patrick had hold of Arica while Eudora contained
Adeliza. Patrick was still recovering from the knife wound dealt to him by Guy
and had therefore lacked the strength to stand with Gaston at the altar.
However, keeping Arica quiet had proved quite a task and he wondered if
standing beside Gaston would have been less strenuous. Between Arica and
Adeliza, there had been an abundance of baby chatter during the service and he
was embarrassed that he had not been able to control them better.

     When the horde had died down, Wellesbourne
and de Vere cleared a path for Gaston and Remington down the center aisle. The
couple went to their daughters, who babbled and screeched with delight when
their father reached for them.

     “Ah, my little magpie,” Gaston said happily
as he took Arica from Patrick. “By God, if you two aren't the noisiest little
birds I have ever heard.” He held out his other arm for Adeliza. Clutching both
babies, he turned to his wife and smiled. “Now that I have all of my women,
shall we retreat to the reception?”

     “They're not going to the reception,”
Remington informed him. “Eudora is taking them back to the Tower.”

     “Not going?” his face fell. “Why can't they
go?”

     “Because they need to go to sleep, Gaston,
it's already past their bedtime,” she insisted, waving over Eudora. “Patrick is
going back to the Tower, too. See how tired he is?”

     Gaston's gaze lingered on his cousin. After
Guy had stabbed him, the man had lain bleeding in a doorway for nearly a day
before someone happened upon him. It was by pure luck alone that he had
survived, although he was still terribly weak. But he had made a remarkable
recovery, for which Nicolas, Martin and Gaston had been extremely grateful.