The Dark One: Dark Knight (123 page)

     Gaston wasn't going to delve into all of
the details, the recent developments in Remington's favor. He merely shrugged.
“I can try.”

     The conversation lagged and Guy
straightened, again wielding the blade. “Since I cannot trust the word of a
traitor, I 'm afraid I shall have to keep the boys here while you retrieve my
wife. So sorry, de Russe.”

Gaston's heart sank. All
of the stalling and conversation had been for naught. His gaze drifted up to
Dane and Trenton, suspended above the floor and he knew their arms were
probably numb by now. He had to do something, and do it quickly. Trouble was,
he was running out of ideas and options and he realized with horror that he was
going to have to leave the boys and rethink his strategy. There was no possible
way he was going to deliver Remington into Guy's waiting arms and she was going
to fall into hysterics when he told her of the situation.

     “I shall go,” his voice was tight, no more
than a whisper. He glanced up at his sons, his heart breaking that he was
powerless to help them. “I shall return for you.”

     “Do not bring mother back here.” Dane
hollered, swinging his legs. “Do you hear me? Do not bring her back.”

     Gaston did not reply. He lowered his gaze
and ignored his dented helm; it was useless anyway. Carefully controlled anger
burst its reins and filled his body like a wildfire as he focused on Guy,
standing smugly several feet away. He wanted to curse him, holler and rant at
the very least, but it would only serve to Guy's advantage. Stoneley mustn't
know how very badly he was affected.

Like a rat, he was trapped. Trapped and feeling
desperate.

     Gaston caught a flash of a shadow on the balcony
above Stoneley. By the time he looked up, a loud explosion detonated a foot or
so away from Guy, who whooped with shock and bolted from his strategic
position. Gaston did not care what the explosion was or how it happened; Guy
was hurtling towards him and he retained enough of his senses to reach out and
grab the man's wrist, snatching the dagger from his grasp. In the same breath,
he threw Guy to the floor brutally.

     “Gaston! Your sword!” Came a youthful
voice. Gaston's head snapped up in time to see his sword sailing from the
second floor like a bolt from heaven. His hand reached into the air and caught
it by the hilt as if the sword had a mind of its own, knowing whose hand it
belonged to. Steel and flesh fused and became one and suddenly, Gaston became
whole. It was a magical moment.

     Another explosion billowed into the air a
foot away from Guy. Stoneley scrambled away from it as Gaston swung his sword
in the man's direction. Guy's ears were ringing from the concussion of the
blast as he lurched to his feet, coming face to face with the tip of Gaston's
massive blade. Almost as fast as he faced it, he whirled away from it and made
a mad dash toward the grand dining hall. Gaston saw something sail through the
air and hit the doorway just as Guy stumbled through it, exploding loudly on
contact. Gaston heard Guy grunt with fear, but he still kept running.

     Gaston had no concept of what the
explosions were or even where they were coming from, but they had saved Dane
and Trenton's lives. His initial reaction was to run after Guy but above him
the boys were yelling and he could not go anywhere without helping them.

     “I shall get you down!” he yelled up to
them.

     Suddenly, Charles was on the stairs,
descending them so quickly that he nearly tripped. “Go after him, my lord. I
shall release Dane and Trenton.”

Gaston, pale and
bloodied, stared at the lad. “What did you do, Charles? What were those...
blasts?”

     Charles grinned, immensely pleased with
himself. “A recipe from one of the Arabic treatises in the solar. I have been
experimenting with it.”

     Gaston let out a hissing sigh of
understanding and relief.  “By God, lad! I thought the angels were on my side!”

     “Nay, my lord. Just me,” Charles moved
eagerly for the trussed rope, fumbling with the ties.

     Gaston was shaken and dazed, but he grabbed
hold of the rope holding his son's aloft. “Stand back!”

     He brought his blade down and severed the
rope, clutching the cleaved end and lowering his sons to the ground. Charles
rushed over to the chandelier as Dane and Trenton's feet touched the ground,
cutting the bindings around their wrists. Gaston waited until the boys were set
free before lowering the chandelier completely to the floor.

     Gaston, Trenton and Dane came together in
an emotional embrace. Gaston hugged them fiercely, incredibly grateful that
they were safe. All three of them were shaking with terror and Gaston stepped
back, getting a good look at both of them.

     “Are you all right? Did he harm you?” he
asked them both, demanding an answer.

     Two heads shook negatively. “We're
unharmed,” Dane replied, but he was terribly shaken. “But he hit you with an
iron stand. You are bleeding.”

     “I am all right,” Gaston replied, although
his nose hurt terribly and his head was aching. Yet, his sons were safe and
that was all that mattered. Still clutching the boys, he turned to Charles.

     “Your bravery is to be commended,” he said
to the young man. “Since you have demonstrated your great courage, I will ask
that you escort my sons to the tower and stay there. Do not move for any
reason, and do not open the door for anyone but Lord Ingilsby or myself. Do you
understand?”

     Charles nodded solemnly as if Gaston had
just entrusted him with the royal jewels. “Aye, my lord.”

     Gaston literally handed him the two boys
and moved to pick up his sword. Gripping the hilt firmly, he pointed to the
stairs. “Go now. I have a man to kill.”

     “He's going for the servant’s entrance in
the kitchen.” Dane said quickly. “He breached it.”

     Gaston's eyes trailed to the dining hall
and the kitchens beyond; kitchens full of potentially lethal instruments.
Considering the ambush he had walked into upon entering the foyer, he was
extremely wary.

     “I shall take care of him,” he said
confidently, tilting his head in the direction of the stairs. “Go now. To the
tower and stay there.”

     The three boys were gone and Gaston made
his way hastily through the dining hall, feeling his skin prickling with
anxiety. Cautiously, he paused at the door leading into the kitchens and peered
inside.

     There was no movement and little light.
Ducking low, out of the line of a fire, he crept low into the kitchens, pausing
every so often to listen carefully. In all of his armor he was hardly silent,
but the room was dimly lit and that worked to his advantage; Stoneley may be
able to hear him, but he couldn't see him. Gaston crept along the floor,
finally rising at the next doorway and pressing himself against the wall. His
breathing was rapid with excitement and the palm holding the sword was
sweating.

     The next room was void of motion. Off of
this room was the storage area where the servant's entrance was located, and
that was Gaston's destination. If Stoneley had escaped he was apt to follow,
but he did not believe the man to take the coward's way out. Stoneley was too
clever and sinister for that.

     Gaston crept along the wall toward the
storage room. At the doorway, he paused and tried to stop his harsh breathing.
Stoneley was a worthy adversary and Gaston was uncomfortable in the confines of
the kitchens. Out in the open was an ideal situation for him; he was far too
large to fight effectively in close quarters such as this. But Stoneley knew
that, which was why he had retreated into the kitchens as opposed to the
bailey.

     The storage room was silent. The breached
door was open a man's width, the light from mid-afternoon casting a blinding
stream into the storage room. Gaston paused at the threshold, too blinded by
the bright light to be able to see very well. He almost stepped in at his full
height, intent on studying the open door. But at the very last second, his
sixth sense told him to crouch and he did. Not three feet above his head, a
six-foot-long iron spit went sailing into the wall with a startling clang.

     Gaston flinched and whirled in the
direction from whence the spit had been launched. Guy stood several feet away,
a sword gleaming in his hand.

     Not a word was said. Gaston raised his
sword offensively and rushed Guy, who brought his own sword up and fended off a
blow hard enough to send him to his knees. But he was quick and skillful and
was on his feet again, bringing his blade up to avoid another lethal blow.
Gaston had him cornered, but he ducked another slice of the blade and danced
through a doorway leading into a smaller kitchen room.

     Gaston was almost as big as the room itself
and it was extremely difficult for him to maneuver in. Guy took the offensive,
whipping his sword through the air at Gaston, who put up his sword to avoid
having his head cut off. He returned the blows, meeting with air as Stoneley,
lighter and smaller and without all of the excess weighty armor, eluded the
chops. Angered that he was not being successful in his attack, Gaston
heightened his swordplay and gave Guy no time to raise his own sword in the
offensive; Gaston's slices were fast and furious and powerful and he succeeded
in completely demolishing the room as he pursued Stoneley.

     Guy tripped into the larger of the kitchen
rooms where both men had originally entered. Rolling to the floor, he was
instantly on his feet again and bringing his blade up in answer to Gaston's
furious blow. In the larger room, both men had ample space to work properly and
sparks flew in the air as metal met metal with bone-shattering force.

     The pain, the anguish behind Gaston's
mighty blows told Guy that, indeed, the man was entirely serious in his quest
to murder him. Up until that point, Guy was never truly concerned that the Dark
One could managed to do him harm. Guy was too fast, too skilled, and too
brilliant. De Russe would have no chance against him.

     But fending off Gaston's blows told Guy
that the Dark One was not only serious but that he fully intended to carry out
his desires. For the first time, Guy began to feel a bud of blossoming fear.

     Gaston had again managed to back Guy into a
corner. Surprised that he had been directed into a compromising position, Guy
tried to use strength to drive Gaston backward, but it was a foolish mistake;
Gaston was by far stronger than Stoneley and brought his sword up in a fierce
uppercut with the intention of puncturing Guy's belly. Guy, however, brought
his sword down at the same time and barely managed to fend off the blow yet in
the process, Gaston had managed to disarm him. He watched for a split second as
his weapon went hurtling across the room.

     There was no chance to regain it; if he
tried he would again be forced into a dead end and Guy would not risk it.
Instead, he had to find another weapon or get the hell out of the kitchens.
Gaston, seeing his prey was defenseless, charged the man, but Guy was quicker
and managed to evade the tackle. Sword flashing, Gaston followed Guy in a wild
course through the kitchens, the pantry, and back out into the dining hall. Guy
was fast, but Gaston encompassed a greater distance with his long strides,
keeping the gap between the two men close.

     Guy mounted the stairs with Gaston hot on
his heels as he followed him to the second floor. However, Gaston lost ground
on the stairs simply because it was extremely difficult to take them quickly in
his bulky armor, but once he reached the landing he made up for lost time.

     His determination was feeding off his quest
for vengeance. He was focused on the one task ahead of him; to catch Guy and to
kill him. When Guy raced into the family's corridor, Gaston followed closely
and began to formulate a plan to trip him. He would have liked to sail his
sword along the floor for Guy to stumble over, thereby allowing Gaston to catch
up to him, but he did not want to part with his sword and risk the possibility
of Guy retrieving it.

     Unfortunately, Guy was widening the
distance between them simply because he was running without hundreds of pounds
of armor. Gaston's pace had not slacked, merely the fact that Guy's had
increased. Gaston began to reconsider throwing his sword yet extremely
reluctant to hand Guy a potential advantage. But it was increasingly evident if
he did not do something quickly, Guy would lose him shortly. And he meant to
have Guy at any cost.

     Guy breezed past the rooms that had housed
Jasmine, Rory and Skye. Rooms he had raped them in, rooms where Jasmine had
borne his bastard. Rooms full of shame and pain and horror. The rooms were
silent now, having once been filled with screams and pleas from frightened
young women.

     Guy did not give them a second glance; he
was too busy putting space between him and the Dark One. De Russe's footsteps
were falling behind him and Guy began to feel a seed of hope that he could
somehow lose him, at least long enough to gain a weapon. Triumph began to rear
its head in Guy's mind as he rounded the corner and headed down another
corridor; he knew he was gaining the edge until he saw Rory standing in front
of him.