Jakar’s blood was roaring in his ears and his heart was thudding so hard he was afraid that someone would be able to hear it. Adrenaline was flowing through his tense body and wanted so badly to be released. He had to rationally tell himself that he needed to take care because it wouldn’t do any of them any good if they were all caught.
He came upon a doorway that lead out into the main hall. Two torches caste their light around the room generously and revealed a door beneath the staircase. He motioned to his brother that he was going to check it out and see where it went. If it had been a storage room under the stairs the door would have been much smaller and narrower because the area under the stairs was small. His hand reach for the knob that called out to him. Somehow he knew this was the way to Isobel.
The door opened without a sound and inside was the set of stairs he had been looking for. He waved for Brock and the men to follow him as he began to descend the stairs. The two men were to wait just inside the doorway and alert them to anyone who came their way.
One by one the stairs took him down farther into the bowels of this hell hole. The place reeked of death and urine, making him want to vomit. He could see at the bottom of the stairs the light of a torch flicker on the wall. Movement came from around the corner, stopping him dead in his tracks. A guard had probably been posted to watch the prisoners during the night, so they would have at least one person to get passed.
He was about to step off the last step when the guard came around the corner and saw him. Both men stopped and stared at each other before Jakar made the first move. He launched his body into action and slammed the man against the wall. They fought unmercifully until Brock was able to come up behind Jakar at punch the guard in the face. The blow knocked the guard senseless, stilling him in Jakar’s hands.
“Where is she,” he hissed in the guard’s face then slammed him against the wall again for good measure. “Where. Is. She.”
The man shook his head, “Who?”
“My wife, asshole! Tell me now or I will kill you where you stand.” He held his sword in his right hand while his left arm had the man pinned to the wall by his throat.
“She’s in there.” The guard nodded slightly to the door across from their position.
“Open it.” He released the boy he had thought was a man. Jakar knew just by the size of the boy that he was not fully grown yet. He had to be in his late teens if not a bit younger. Tuloch was notoriously known for drafting every abled bodied man or boy he could muster if they didn’t come on their own.
The boy pulled out a set of keys and stepped up to the door in question. Hands shaking, it took the boy several tries to get the key into the lock then turn it. No sooner had he pulled the door open that he was shoved violently aside and landed on the floor. He knew exactly who this man was and why he was here. The lord of the north had come for his wife.
Jakar entered the dark cell. His eyes instantly found his wife lying on the floor wrapped in a filthy blanket. He went to her side and lifted her, turning her in the process. A moan escaped her chapped and cracked lips as he ran his hand over her face.
“Isobel! Isobel, please wake up,” he whispered in her ear. She moaned again but did not wake up. He gently gave her a shake which instantly had her awake and crying out in pain. Her cry startled and frightened him at the same time. Her eyes were unseeing as she looked up at him. Anger rushed through him at the sight of his wife. He could see in the low light the bruise on the side of her head and the blood that was dried in the corner of her lips. He ran his hands over her body checking for broken bones that might be the cause of her pain.
Outside of the cell, the guard called out to him. “Bring him in here!” Jakar said.
Lore thrust the young guard into the cell and held the tip of his sword at the boy’s back. “My lord, she’s been flogged. That is the source of her pain.”
“Oh my God!” He eased Isobel to his chest as Brock helped him unwrap the blanket. The sound that Brock made told him that it was bad. “Is it… Is it bad?” He had to know.
Brock nodded his head in reply, unable to voice what he saw. He slid the blanket back over her still body and let his brother take the corner and tuck it against his chest once again.
“I did my best to help her,” the boy started to say but was cut off.
“Do not speak! Your leader did this to an innocent woman! I will have you all killed! Brock,” he nodded to his brother to kill the boy.
“No, no wait, my lord, please I beg of you!” The boy was close to tears as he pleaded for his life. “I snuck in some salve to put on her back and gave her as much water as I could without being caught!”
“Do you think that really matters to me? My wife has been tortured and you tell me about salve?” Jakar spit the words at the boy.
“I…I was trying to help her. Tuloch is crazy and will stop at nothing. I was going to try and get her out of here but if I had been caught I would have been beheaded along with my sister.”
“Why would you risk your life to save someone you don’t know?” Jakar asked.
“I hate Tuloch, my lord and want to escape but I do not have the means to do so,” the boy admitted and pulled the jar of salve out of his pocket and held it out to Jakar. “Take it. It will help her while you journey home.”
Brock snatched the jar out of the boy’s hand then prepared to kill him. Jakar watched the boy then stopped his brother right before he could ram his sword through the boy’s young body. “Bring the boy with us.”
He stood up with Isobel in his arms and walked out of the cell and up the stairs. His men were still positioned at the door watching and waiting for their return. They were just about to open the door when it was suddenly whipped open. Two guards stood there and spied them.
“Intruders!” one called out while the other took off running, screaming for help. “Intruders!” the guard yelled again then was silenced by one swift swing of a sword. The guard fell dead to the floor, blood running from the hole in his gut.
“We need to get out of here!” Brock yelled. He led the way back the way they had come into the castle. Loud footsteps were rushing towards them as they made their way through the maze back to the kitchen. Several guards came around one corner and met them head on. The clash of swords was deafening in the small, enclosed area and the cries of pain reverberated through the air.
Two of the enemy guards were cut down and the other was lying wounded on the ground. The sound of running was all around them now as they continued on. Jakar ran with Isobel in his arms then slid to a stop. Brock ran up behind him asking what was wrong.
“Take Isobel,” he handed his wife to the only other man he trusted with her life.
Brock was taken off guard and had to quickly grab for Isobel. “What are you doing? We need to get out of here!”
“I am going to find Tuloch and kill him once and for all.”
“Are you crazy man? This place is going to be full of guards in a moment. You won’t stand a chance!” Brock pleaded.
“I know of a way!” the boy called out.
Jakar’s head snapped to the boy. “Show me!”
The boy wretched out of the grip Lore had on him and lead the way. They ran back the way they had just come but turned down another hall Jakar had not paid attention to before. He nearly ran into the boy when he stopped suddenly in front of a tapestry that hung on the wall. He waiting impatiently as the boy slipped behind the tapestry and called for him to follow. When he did, he saw that the boy had pushed open a hidden door that revealed a hidden passage way.
“This is one of Tuloch hidden passages. He believes no one knows about them except for a few people. I found this passage late one night when I should have been guarding the dungeon.”
“Where does it go?” Jakar asked.
“This one goes directly to Tuloch’s personal rooms.”
“Where does it come out in his rooms?” He needed to know before he went plowing into unknown area.
“His
bedroom.”
They continued through the passage until they reached the hidden door that lead into Tuloch’s bedroom. What were the chances that his enemy lay sound asleep in his bed? Probably not good considering all the noise now drifting through the walls. Voices were calling out orders and bells sounded to raise the alarm. But, he was here now and he was going to confront Tuloch for the last time. One of them would die this night.
The boy slowly pulled the door back then let Jakar go in first. The room was quiet and, unfortunately, empty. Tuloch was nowhere to be seen.
“He’s not here,” Jakar said when he stepped back into the passage.
“Let’s go this way,” the boy waved for him to follow.
Again they raced through the gloomy and narrow passages. The boy zigzagged so many times that he became utterly lost. After what seemed like a lifetime of running, they came to the end of the passage.
He could hear Tuloch bellowing out commands from the other side of the wall and wondered where this door opened to.
“What’s on the other side of this door?” he asked the boy.
“This one opens out into the bailey.”
Jakar stood to the side and waited for the boy to open the door just a hair so that he could see where Tuloch was. The door made no sound as it opened. Rain dripped in off the wall above his head as he put his eye to the crack. Tuloch was standing not more than ten feet away from the door. He must have gone through the same passage when the call of intruders was sounded. The man must have been asleep when he heard the cries because he was not fully dressed, having on only his pants and boots. The glimmer of his sword reflected the rain as he barked out his commands to those running about in the bailey.
“It’s now or never,” Jakar spoke quietly. “Go back to the kitchen and out the back door. There is a hole under the wall. Go under it and find my men. Tell Brock that I sent you.”
“Yes, my lord,” the boy replied then took off the way they had come.
Jakar looked through the slit once again before making his move. He wanted to get the jump on Tuloch, but not if he was surrounded by guards. It would be a foolish move if he did so. The rain fell in sheets now as the storm moved in over the castle. The weather in Aslog, north or south, was always totally unpredictable but this time he was glad to see the rain coming down as hard as it was.
Once he was sure Tuloch was relatively alone, he stepped out of the door with his sword drawn and walked up behind the bastard who hurt his wife. “I want you to see who is going to kill you.”
Tuloch’s body stiffen at the sound of Jakar’s voice. The bastard waited then slowly turned around to face him with an ear to ear grin plastered on his ugly face.
“Ahh… well, well. What do we have here?” Tuloch teased. “It’s the young lord from the north. Come for your pretty little wife have you?” Tuloch raised his sword.
“One of us will die tonight. This will end here and now.” Jakar was ready. He was ready to bring an end to the fighting his people had experienced for so long. He wanted to make amends to Isobel for being so blind and not believing her.
“So be it, Jakar, I’m sorry it has to end this way, but I will take good care of your wife after you are dead. I thought about killing her, but I decided I am going to keep her alive. I need a good fuck every now and then and she looks as if she is a good one. Tell me, Jakar, is your wife a good fuck?” Tuloch laughed.
Jakar was not going to respond to Tuloch words. He wasn’t going to give the man the pleasure of thinking he had gotten the best of him. No, he was in total control of his emotions. He wasn’t going to let this piece of shit goad him into making a careless error. He lunged forward and struck the first blow.
The two swords clashed together. Jakar swung his sword at Tuloch’s head but he ducked just in time to avoid being decapitated. He pushed the man back farther into the open while he swung his sword relentlessly. The adrenaline in his body was now being released. He felt invincible as it flowed through his veins, giving him a strength he never knew he could summon up.
Jakar saw others rush to the scene out the corner of his eye but he couldn’t let them distract him from the one he wanted to kill. The men all had their swords or other weapons drawn and at the ready. They moved to help their lord, but stopped when Tuloch told them to stay where they were.
He and Tuloch moved through the bailey as the rain continued to pour down on top of them. His sword made contact again and again with Tuloch’s. Tuloch swung just as he turned the wrong way and was cut across the top of his left arm near his shoulder. He groaned as he felt the blade slice through his skin. His enemy laughed when he heard the sound Jakar made.
“Oops! It’s just a scratch.”
“Shut the fuck up!” he hissed through his clenched teeth. His sword sliced through the air and made contact with a leg, bringing Tuloch down to one knee. He laughed this time and responded with the same sarcastic comment.
“Oops! It’s just a scratch!”
Tuloch’s eyes were filled with murder. In that instant he became the madman everyone said he was. A look came over his face that made Jakar think he had become possessed by the devil. He rushed to Jakar with a shriek, swinging he sword wildly. The swords clashed together over and over as they fought to kill each other. A particular hard blow sent Jakar sailing backwards over a water trough he had neglected to see.
He scrambled to get to his feet but was pushed from behind with a foot. He landed on his stomach and rolled just in time to block the blow that Tuloch was delivering towards his head. Their weapons locked as each man tried in earnest to press the swords down while the other pushed upward with all the force he could muster.
“What do you say now, weakling? Shall I give you a quick death or should I draw it out?” Tuloch’s enraged face hung over Jakar’s.
“Today is not the day that I will die…” The rain dripped into his eyes as he fought to shove the asshole off him. He had to admit, the man was strong for being up in age. The edge of the bastard’s sword was getting closer to his neck and he was afraid that if he didn’t make a move now, it would be the end of him. He let go of one side of the arm he was holding back and slid it down his side until he could reach the knife that was hidden in the waistband of his pants. As soon as he felt the cold metal in his hand he whipped it up as quickly as he could and jabbed it into Tuloch’s side right between the rib bones.
Tuloch howled in pain as he fell to the side and landed sprawled on the ground next to him. He jumped back to his feet as fast as he could then went for Tuloch again. Now it was his turn.
He dove on top of the withering man and pulled the knife back out of his enemy. In a swift swing of his arm, he was in the motion of bringing it back down when something slammed into his head. The force of the blow knocked him off the downed man. A kick to his gut next had him gasping for air as he tried to crawl away from this new attacker.
“No,” a strained voice called out, “he’s mine!”
Tuloch had regain his footing and was heading over to him. He could see the man out the corner of his eye as Tuloch walked hunched over to where he was down on all four. He raised his head to see who the other attacker was and was suddenly hit in the face with spurts of blood. The attacker he thought was a man fell into the puddle, dead before she hit the ground. Betsy. His eyes adjusted to the area behind where Betsy had been standing and saw through the rain Vic standing there with his sword covered in fresh blood.
“Thanks, my friend,” he said then got to his feet in time to face Tuloch. “It’s time to put an end to this!” He gripped his sword with two hands and waited for the man to get close. He acted as if he was still out of it and unaware that he was in danger once again.
The sound of Tuloch’s footsteps slapping into the muddy ground was the only thing he focused on. He had to time his swing just right or he would be the one going down. A streak of lightning flashed in the sky and lit up the dark area. Jakar waited what seemed like an eternity as he prepared himself for the d
eadly blow. The second he saw a boot come into his view he raised his upper body and jabbed his sword upwards with everything he had. He felt the minor resistance as the sword penetrated flesh. A scream ripped through the night air at the same time a huge crash of thunder rang out.
Jakar stumbled backwards as he let go of his sword. Tuloch had hold of the sword that had entered his stomach and protruded out his back. His eyes bulged out and stared at Jakar incredibly. Blood flowed from the corner of his mouth as he fell to his knees. His lips moved but no sound came out. He knew he was a dead man. A crooked smile splayed across his dirty face for a moment then went completely blank as his eyes glazed over.
The rain began to slacken when he felt a hand grab his arm. “Come on, we need to get out of here.” Vic pulled on Jakar to get him moving. “My lord! He’s dead!”
Through the Looking Glass Page 22
