by K. A. M'Lady
His gut clenched, and immediately he knew things were not as they should be. “Come,” he told her, walking into the great hall to where the tables had been filled with food and drink for the returning warriors. “Tell me,” he said, grabbing a cup of mead and quenching his thirst.
“She is gone, milord. The guard dead at his post, her cell destroyed as if in struggle.”
“Aye, milady would have struggled. A warrior she is,” he agreed softly.
“There’s more,” Rosalynn continued, her voice low.
“Go on,” he said, reaching for some food.
“I found these in her cell,” she said, handing him the pieces of Sir Richard’s torn standard and that of Pasquel’s.
Damon stared at them both, unable to move. Rosalynn even stepped back, so filled with rage he’d become.
“There is one more thing,” Rosalynn whispered.
Damon’s head jerked towards hers, his eyes boring into hers with a glacial storm. “What?” he growled.
“She carries your babe,” she whispered.
“Tanak!” Damon roared, his voice blaring through the keep like a god with enough vengeance to destroy the entire world.
Tanak came running into the hall. “Aye, my friend, I have heard the news and have gathered fresh men and horses. We await you now in the bailey.”
Rosalynn handed him a bag of provisions and said, “Your cousin, Pasquel, is a guest in your dungeon. Your coin and Richard’s tunics were found in his quarters. Until this is sorted out, he should remain there. And, lest I forget, Smedely has gone missing.”
Damon nodded his head and strode for the door. He could not bother himself with the two pathetic little men at this time. Neither was worth his time. If Pasquel and Richard were in this together, then he would deal with Pasquel when he returned. But his gut told him that if Pasquel were truly involved, he would not still be in his keep. He would know that Damon would kill him on sight. No, Pasquel would have been long gone by now. For now, he would keep within his dungeon walls.
Mounting a fresh horse that was prepared for him, he kicked it into a gallop and raced out across the bridge, heading straight for Woodmir. Sir Richard would pay for this treachery. With his life, if necessary.
It should have taken them five days had they stopped for the night, but Damon’s fury would not be sated, and they rode nonstop. In two days’ time they reached the gates of Woodmir. Damon had a hundred men with him, so great was his wrath. If Richard had betrayed his trust, his loyalty to king and country, then he would die. It would be a slow and painful suffering for betraying The Dragon of Blackmoor. Yards back from the gates, he addressed the guards. “Send out your lord,” Damon ordered.
The tower guard didn’t know what to make of the situation. Rather than send another of the guards to fetch his liege, he went to retrieve Sir Richard himself.
Richard appeared extremely confused as he left the gates, seeing Damon and a hundred of his men, swords drawn. “Milord,” Richard said, bowing in his saddle, letting Damon know he came alone out of respect.
“Sir Richard, you have something that is mine. I want it back. If it is not returned to me whole and in good condition, I will raise your entire keep, burn it to the ground and kill you and all its inhabitants.”
“On my life, milord, and that of our friendship, I swear on all that is holy, I know not of what you speak,” Richard replied, gripping the reins of his horse to keep him steady. His jaw ticked as he watched Damon and the warriors that stretched out around him, waiting for Damon to respond.
Damon’s eyes bore through Richard as though trying to see into his soul. “Then tell me, my friend,” he said sarcastically, “Where is Gabriella, and how did your standard get to be in her cell at my keep?” He threw the piece of cloth at Richard.
Richard caught it and stared at it, open-mouthed. “I know not,” he said simply, looking up at Damon, his face as full of truth as he could make it. The years of friendship were expressed in his eyes, and his hands held open and away from his sides as if in invitation for Damon to kill him if he had to.
Damon understood the signals that Richard was giving him and nodded his acquiescence. “Then you will help me find who is responsible,” he ordered, sidling up to Richard and offering him his hand, despite the gruffness of his voice.
Richard let out the breath he’d been holding and clasped Damon’s hand. “Aye, my friend. Come, I will see that you and your men are fed and we will go through the facts and get you back on the trail,” he said, turning back towards his castle gate.
“You will, of course, be accompanying me,” Damon told him sternly.
Richard shot a quick glance at Damon. “Of course,” he replied, and led Damon and his men through the gates of Woodmir. Food and drink were brought into the hall as the men gathered around the tables.
“So tell me what has occurred, my friend, and let us see what we can sort out of this mess that is being laid at my table,” Richard stated when they had all settled.
Damon watched him silently as he gathered his thoughts. An uncertain nagging had settled low in his belly and he couldn’t seem to shake it. Despite the evidence still clutched in his hand, Damon didn’t want to believe the worst in his friend.
“As we rode into Blackmoor,” he told Richard, “Rosalynn met me at the steps to tell me that Gabriella’s guard had been murdered at his post, her cell destroyed and she, nowhere to be found. My wretched cousin, Pasquel, is now a guest in my dungeon until further notice, and my entire keep has been searched. My pathetic steward is nowhere to be seen and if I do not return with Gabriella, my witch of a housekeeper has sworn to put a hex on me for not listening to her and putting the poor maid in the dungeon in the first place—her words, not mine.”
“It would make sense that your cousin would be the cause of this trouble,” Richard advised.
“Aye. I have thought of that. But to what end? Why would he murder a servant girl and kidnap Gabriella for a twenty-year-old revenge from a tourney fight? Even Pasquel is not that petty,” Damon replied.
“Unless,” Richard stated. “Unless he was Therese’s lover and is trying to punish you for her death, and in doing so has had Gabriella kidnapped so that she can be killed.”
Damon had thought of this as well, and didn’t like where it was leading. The evidence he had had led him towards Richard, but now he knew, after looking into the face of his childhood friend, that there was no way he could be behind Gabriella’s abduction.
“Aye, it is quite possible,” Damon said with a faraway look in his eyes, considering the possibility of Richard’s words. There could be no other alternatives. He had thought of every angle. Considered every option. If it had not been Richard, as he had been led to believe, then it had to be Pasquel. “We must return to Blackmoor at once,” Damon said, rising.
* * * * * *
“Now?” Richard questioned. “Are you out of your mind? You have just arrived. Your men and horses are tired. What is it that you think you will accomplish by riding them to death?”
Damon grabbed Richard by the front of his tunic, twisting it until his fist was tight at his throat and pulled him to meet his eyes. The hall grew silent as warriors stood unsure what to do, which lord to protect.
“Do not ever question my motives again,” Damon said harshly, each word spaced out as his anger boiled at the edges of his skin.
Richard tried to swallow past the knot at his throat. “I am sorry, my friend. It was entirely my mistake,” he croaked.
Damon shoved him away so fast that Richard stumbled against his chair. Had it not been for Tanak’s steady hand at his sleeve, he’d have fallen in front of all of the men who had gathered in the hall.
“Now, Sir Richard,” Damon said, his fury echoing loudly through the silence of the hall, “As your liege, I order you to gather all the men at my service. We head for Blackmoor as soon as horses are made ready. I want a mounted search of my seaside before nightfall two days hence.” Damon’s order brooked
no argument.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The water had reached the shelf’s edge that Gabriella was shackled to. Bile rose in her throat, her pulse quickened and her breath began to come in hard, quick gasps. It was pitch black, and she couldn’t see two fingers in front of her face even if she poked herself in the eye. She was shivering from the cold and she knew that her wrists were worn bloody where she had tried to pull them free of the shackles.
I’m going to die in this damn forsaken hole! She cursed as the water continued to rise from the tide. She didn’t know how long the tide would continue to come in before she would probably drown or die of hypothermia, but she was sure that it would probably be soon. She was so tired. All she wanted to do was lay down and rest. She needed to rest for the baby’s sake. But she couldn’t. If she lay down, she would drown in the tide water.
Where the hell is Damon? Why hasn’t he come and rescued me? Damn him for leaving me here to drown in a Goddamn cave! And then she thought, why am I thinking so hard to myself? “It’s not as if someone can answer me,” she said out loud.
“Damon!” She yelled. “Damon!” She continued yelling for ten minutes until she was completely spent and her voice raw. The water was knee high and she sagged in the shackles, unable to hold herself up any longer. Too tired to fight the exhaustion, her eyes closed with visions of Damon behind her lids.
She dreamed of him holding her, rocking her softly. But then it became a jostling, her limbs being shaken roughly and she tried to use her arms to push him away, but her arms wouldn’t move and memory started to seep through her veil of sleep. She was roughly shaken again, this time her head slamming against the wall.
“Wake up, you little bitch.”
Gabriella opened her eyes to the same nightmare of the night before. A groan escaped her before she could suppress it, bringing a smile from her captor.
“Time to move, you pathetic wench. I am sure your Norman bastard is figuring out that two and two is not quite four. And when he finds that he can add, well, it will be too late,” he remarked, a smarmy chuckle escaping as he undid her shackles.
She dropped to the floor of the shelf, unable to hold herself up.
“Get up,” he said, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her from the shelf. “We have a lot of ground to cover and I will not have you holding me back. Into the forest, we must be by nightfall. I am to rendezvous with your next jailer, collect my fee, watch the great and powerful Dragon of Blackmoor die a gruesome death, and have a wonderful remainder of my week, thank you very much. So get a move on, dragon’s whore.”
He continued to pull her by the hair, and despite her weakness, her aches, and her fear, she was sick to death of this pathetic little weasel of a man calling her a bitch and a whore. And she swore if it was the last thing she would do, she was going to make sure she got one good punch on him.
Letting him drag her out of the cave and into the morning light, her eyes squinted, trying to adjust from being stuck in the darkness for so long. She wasn’t sure, but she would almost swear he had left her in there for at least two days, gauging by the tides coming and going. And lucky for her—or unlucky, depending on how far he decided to drag her—the tide hadn’t drowned her either. But she was soaked from her chin down, so it had obviously been pretty close. She was starving and thirsty, but at least she hadn’t gotten morning sickness since she had been abducted.
He pulled her along the beach as close to the cliff edge as possible so the guards along the watchtower wouldn’t be able to see them. Hearing the hiss of metal clearing a scabbard, she felt the pierce of sword against her skin at her throat.
“Make one sound, milady whore, and I swear I will cut you a new smile. Do you understand?”
All she could do was nod as he pulled her further down the beach. They walked for at least an hour before coming to where two horses were tethered to an outcropping of bushes near a path leading upward along the cliffs. Gabriella was never so relieved to see a horse in all her life. Shoving her to the ground, he pulled her wrists in front of her and bound them with a piece of rope.
“Sit there while I ready our horses,” he told her. “And if you move, I swear I will kill you myself.”
Gabriella glared at him. She wanted to punch him square in the mouth, but she knew she’d have to wait. Sitting where he shoved her, her stomach grumbled loudly. “Do you have any food and water?” she asked, not caring what he warned. She was dying of starvation and thirst.
He tossed her a sack, and inside she found a water bag, some dried meat, cheese and some hard bread. She scarfed down a little of the meat and as much of the bread as she dared, not wanting to eat too much and become nauseous. The water was like liquid heaven on her lips. But before she had a chance to finish, he jerked the water away from her, picked up the bag of food and tucked both away on his horse.
“Get up, it’s time to go.”
His orders were really beginning to get on her last waking nerve. Now that she’d eaten and drunk something, she was feeling more like herself. She knew she shouldn’t do it. Knew she would pay for it. But she couldn’t stop herself. “I can’t get up. My legs are too sore,” she mumbled weakly.
“You can get up now, milady, or I will get you up,” he snarled.
“I’m telling you I can’t move my legs,” she bit back.
He released the horses and stomped over to her.
Just a second more, Gabriella. Not yet. Not yet.
Wham! She kicked out with both feet straight into his groin. As he fell to his knees, his face flushing a horrid color of purple, she swung her wrists with her entire body into the side of his temple and cold cocked him. He landed on the ground with a thud, his eyes rolling back.
Reaching into his scabbard, she pulled the dagger from it, held it in her teeth and angled it between her bound wrists, sawing to get them free. The rope was shredding with each stroke as she jerked her head up and down, trying to hurry before he came to his senses. But if she went too fast, she would surely slice her wrists open.
As the final binding came free, she tossed the dagger down the beach and made a run for one of the horses. Gathering up her sodden, filthy skirt and placing her foot in the stirrup, hope flared in her breast for the first time in days. She could make the castle in twenty minutes.
Damon would be back soon, and she would be safe once again. She just had to get on this damn horse. As she grabbed the reins to pull herself up, she was pulled clean off the horse and landed flat on her back in the cold, moist sand.
He jumped on top of her and held her down, pinning her arms beneath his knees bruising her arms in the process. “You bitch,” he roared as he slapped her across the face. He hit her once, twice, three times.
She tried to curl into a ball to protect her child. The world closed around her in a dark black haze.
* * * * * *
Dusk was settling across the plain as they reached the open field between Blackmoor Castle and the thick, dark forest. The sky was a deep shade of coppery red, like autumn leaves drenched in blood, as darkness descended all around the edges of the world.
“We should split our forces here, my friend,” Richard offered. “My men and I can start the search of the edge of the forest and the grounds closest to it and the sea, while your men search the areas along the castle and the cliffs at the bottom. We can meet somewhere in the middle,” he said.
Damon considered Richard’s plan. “Aye,” he said. “Tanak can accompany you. I will meet you halfway when we have searched the entire seaside. If we find her, I will send a rider with word.”
Richard nodded his agreement and turned to the front of his contingent of men, whispering orders to his commander in passing.
“Stay close to Richard, my friend,” Damon advised Tanak. “There is something I am just not certain of. My gut is giving me warnings, and my heart is telling me these warnings cannot be true.”
“As you say,” Tanak agreed.
Damon watched them ride away,
grateful that his friend Tanak never questioned him, and was always there to watch his back. He just hoped that he hadn’t sent him into the lion’s den to be devoured.
Turning his horse, he led his men towards Blackmoor, giving orders to the men that were with him to search the cliff side and beach below. There was to be no cave left unchecked. No dune left unturned. He would find her. And God help the man, or men who were responsible.
They searched long into the night until the moon was full over the ocean and a light breeze rolled off the foaming waves. There was no storm this night, but in the distance one was coming, if the lightning out over the sea was any indicator. The wind was slowly beginning to pick up and the waves’ tempo crashing over the rocks was raising the hackles of horses and men alike.
Shouts down the beach brought Damon’s attention around to a cave that two of his men were running out of.
“Here, milord,” one shouted. “Down here.”
Damon kicked his horse down the beach as fast as he could, stirring up sand and water as he went. He reached the cave opening, pulling hard on the reins, and jumped off, not waiting for the horse to entirely stop. He had to hunch over to enter the low opening. He was handed a torch to see and slowly walked towards the back of the small cave.
Near the back, he found the shackles above the shelf on the far wall. There he found a small torn piece of cloth from the last dress he had seen Gabriella wearing. His chest clenched in fear and anger. Reaching for the shackles, his fingers shook as he touched them. They came away with what seemed to be blood. It was almost dry and stood out darkly on the tips of his trembling hand before he clenched it into a fist. She hadn’t been gone too long from the cave. Not so long that I can’t find her, he thought hopefully for the first time in days.
Leaving the cave, he yelled to his men, “Mount up, we ride towards the forest and down the beach, there has to be a trail from here to there.” With purpose driving him, he raced down the beach, searching. Eventually he found what he was looking for. Wrapped to a small branch in an outcropping of the cliff was more of Gabriella’s torn dress. That is it, my love, leave me a trail to find you and I swear I shall ride through hell to get you back, he vowed.
