Captured by the Dark Lord

by Jaide Fox

  “Do it. And let not my daughters hear of what has befallen me. I would rather stay and rot than allow that devil to get his hands upon them.”

  Henry said nothing for several moments. “He emphasized healer, my lord. I think, perhaps, he asks for her healing touch--”

  “No. He is a villain, a devil. I cannot have them exposed to such evil. I will not allow it.”

  Henry nodded, his face drawn and solemn. “I will do as you ask, my lord.”

  “Then let this be good-bye if you cannot rally the men.”

  Henry gripped his forearm and hand in a firm shake. “Do not speak of such things, my lord. It bears on your cause. It is never wise to tempt the fates in such a way.”

  Lord John waved his words away. “Take my ring. They will know your words for truth if you present it.” Lord John slipped his signet ring off his index finger and pressed it into Henry’s palm.

  He faced the knight once more. “I will send my manservant at once.”

  A smile curled the death knight’s lips, chilling Lord John to his marrow.

  Chapter Two

  Horses covered in foamy sweat, the team raced through the open gates of Raedan, stopping abruptly in the teeming courtyard as Henry pulled back on the reins. The horses reared their heads, screaming their fatigue and ill use.

  Henry could spare them no pity--not now. He dropped the reins and jumped down, shaking with weakness. He was immediately grabbed by the scruff of the neck by a guard.

  “What is the meaning of this?” The guard shook him, looking at the exhausted beasts. “You have damn near killed the lord’s horses you old fool!”

  “Where is Sir Zycar? I must see him at once!” He pulled Lord Bordeaux’s ring from his vest pocket with shaking fingers. “Lord Bordeaux demands it.”

  The guard’s eyes widened and he released him. “He holds counsel with Lady Bianca and the others in the main hall.”

  Henry nodded and dashed to the servant’s entrance off the kitchen, fast as his old legs would carry him. He reached the hall in moments and saw it filled with Lord Bordeaux’s men at arms. Lady Bianca sat at the head of the gathering with Sir Zycar at her right. Her sisters were nowhere to be seen, thankfully. It would still prove difficult, pulling Sir Zycar away from her, but he had to try.

  Henry moved through the throng at meal, until he’d reached the dais where Lady Bianca sat. Lord Bordeaux’s chair sat empty, and would likely remain so if he did not succeed.

  Sir Zycar spotted him at once, ceasing stroking his thick red beard as he stood and called in a deep booming voice, “Henry! Come here old man. Has Lord Bordeaux returned? Why were we not informed?”

  The noise in the hall diminished, all eyes turning toward Henry. He shifted from one foot to another. “Sir Zycar, if I could speak to you in private....”

  Lady Bianca regarded him, seeing straight through to his soul, her fine arched brows drawn down as she frowned. “Where is my father, Henry?”

  He could not lie to her. She’d always had the ability to sense untruths. Henry turned pleading eyes to Sir Zycar. “Please, Sir, I dare not give my news before her.”

  Sir Zycar remained silent, grim, as if knowing his news was ill before he’d uttered it.

  “I am in control until my father returns. Speak, Henry. Let us all hear what you have to say.”

  His shoulders slumped. He had failed his master, badly. But he could not disobey his mistress. “Very well.” He swallowed audibly before telling them of the attack on the winter pass.

  “None of them have survived then, for they’ve none returned these many days,” Zycar said, stroking the braids in his beard absently.

  Henry sighed, saddened at the news. Those knights were the best Raedan had to offer, but they were far more than protection alone. Each had families and people who loved them, who depended upon them. It was a catastrophic blow for him, almost as disastrous as the loss of their lord and master.

  “There is more to tell. The pass blocked, we were forced along an alternate route, deep into the valley. It seemed to sense our presence like a live thing. A storm rose from nowhere to chase us away, but we could not turn back, for we knew the monsters who’d attacked could still be on our trail. We had to go forward. We journeyed for some time through the freakish storm, until the horses were mad with fright, and I weary from fighting them to hold them from running away with us ... and then gates appeared before my eyes. I thought it a trick of age, but now I see it as black sorcery, for inside lurked a horror.”

  Henry stopped to force his pounding heart to slow, then continued, “Inside was ... a ... a death knight. He has taken your father, Lady Bianca.”

  Gasps and shouts tore through the room as the castle worked alive in disbelief and despair. Some men made signs of protection against evil spirits across their chests, their faces filled with fear. Lady Bianca appeared stricken, her skin paling to the whiteness of death.

  “The legends are true then.” Zycar breathed heavily, collapsing in his chair. “That such could exist ... able to kill a man with one word, one touch....”

  “What does he want?” Lady Bianca asked softly, her voice barely audible above the uproar of the crowd. When Henry remained silent, she gave him a hard look, one that he could not resist.

  “The death knight asks for you, Lady Bianca.” She paled more, cold and fragile as crystal. Henry faced Sir Zycar, unable to bear looking on her. “I don’t know what he shall do if she is not received.”

  “He cannot be allowed to have her.”

  “Lord Bordeaux’s words exactly. But please, we must send help. Our lord commanded me to bring help to free him, else his life is forfeit. The dark one will not barter for his release. He said only, your daughter for your own life.”

  A man shouted from the crowd, “How are we to battle an immortal?”

  “What hope have we in meeting such a one?” another shouted.

  Chaos erupted as more and more men shouted their fears and doubts, their certainty that they could not hope to best such a foe, for how could any mortal best a man who is neither living nor dead. An army could not overtake him.

  Zycar slammed his fist into his palm. “He is lost to us. There is naught we can do to save him, for we cannot forfeit his daughter, not when he forbade it. We are but mortal men, we cannot hope to face such a foe alone ... not and keep our lives, not with hope of saving our lord. A hundred men could not face him and win. A sorcerer is required to battle his evil. We must send for one at once.”

  “I fear there is no time, Sir Zycar. A creature such as this will not allow us the luxury of time to fight him. He will know our plans if we delay answering his demands.”

  “We have no choice.”

  They continued arguing amongst themselves, growing more heated as the minutes passed. No one noticed as Lady Bianca slipped away.

  * * * *

  Bianca hastily gathered supplies and clothing, both for herself and her father, and stuffed bundles of clothes and food into pouches on either side of the saddle. With a light load and a look of confidence, she mounted Beast and guided the horse from the stables. The gatekeeper guards, she knew, would balk at allowing her to pass unescorted, so she turned her horse toward the postern gate, knowing it would be unguarded at this hour with most of the castle’s residents gathered in the great hall making plans and eating.

  Hours later, the horse’s massive hooves thundered through the quiet forest, the sound of their passing scattering birds and other wild life. The flutter of wings and snapping branches and brush filled the air. She guided Beast on a downward path, the air cooling as they headed north and down the mountain pass.

  Doubts shook has as she rode, but Bianca dismissed them. She would find this castle of which Henry had spoken--she had to. Only one valley remained unexplored and undeveloped to the Raedan people. It was the only possible area where such a castle might lie. The valley lay as a shallow divide between their borders and those of Hellsing, and the proximity to that accursed place guaran
teed none of their people would ever want to dwell there.

  Bianca worried over her father as she rode steadily down, the day passing in a blur as her mind turned inward, caught in a whirlwind of terrible possibilities her father could have suffered or was being put through even now. Her father was old. He could not last long with terror taking him in its terrible hold. She could only trust that the death knight would not physically harm him, or else he would have nothing to bargain with. In her heart, she trusted, though she knew it was foolish to believe such a terror could have any shred of honor.

  As Beast tired from his steady pace, she laid her hands upon his neck, easing the gelding’s worn muscles. Her fingertips and palms glowed red, lit from within as the healing power spread from her body to his, healing his aches and hurts. She regretted pushing him so hard, but she could not allow her father to suffer any longer than he must.

  Dusk snuffed the sun’s light, night prowling upon them through the canopy of the forest. Bianca clung wearily to Beast, drained from using her powers, and by her thoughts and fears for her father. She drifted into a trance as Beast took the lead and picked his own way through the dark woods.

  It wasn’t until the horse startled abruptly that she noticed they’d reached the forest’s end. The small trail Beast stood on opened into a wide path, and in the distance, she could see the spires of a castle grasping toward the moonlit sky like the blackened, withered fingers of a corpse.

  A sliver of fear slithered over her skin as they trotted up the road. The pulse thrumming through her body quickened as her adrenaline surged, and a sick feeling grew in her gut. She ignored Beast’s nickering and huffing, keeping her eyes on the dark mass as it grew more distinct the closer they came. There could be no mistaking the castle as any other but the one Henry had described in his ramblings. Drawing down a hill, the castle slipped out of sight behind a tall stone wall obscured to near invisibility by tree growth and vines clinging to the stonework.

  The stonework stretched beyond her sight into the darkness, seeming to go on forever.

  As she rounded the border wall, the entrance came into view, and she urged Beast onward with near giddy relief that she was so close to her goal. She would soon see her father free.

  The spider’s gates, looking just as Henry had described them, hung open, welcoming, and she passed unhampered through them. The road stretched smooth and wide, the lawn trimmed and well kept. She’d thought to encounter rot and destruction, wildness, not a dwelling of this caliber and keeping. It appeared almost ... lived in.

  She frowned, wondering now if she had mistaken Henry’s description, if she had wandered onto the grounds of some other castle. But she knew their other lands well. She could not believe another castle such as this lay nearby and had never once been seen by any of their people. This must be the place. Perhaps Henry, in his terror, had imagined much of what he believed he had seen? Hysteria and the storm had made the castle and grounds more horrific than they really appeared.

  She halted Beast near the entrance and looped his reins around a short, ornate post that stood at the base of the steps. Cautious, she gathered her courage and ascended. Knocking on the door garnered her no answer, so she opened it, allowing the heavy oaken door to fall open on oiled hinges and slap against the inner wall.

  It rang hollowly through the antechamber, the clap echoing into nothingness. There was no one inside to greet her, but the chamber was well lit against the darkness closing in from outside. Bianca walked inside, looking around, expecting an ambush, and finally entered the vast hall. It was empty, as well.

  She frowned, disconcerted that she’d ridden so far and found she faced no enemy. She had no idea where to begin searching for her father.

  “Welcome, my lady,” a man’s voice spoke behind her.

  Bianca whirled around to see nothing but air and the empty antechamber she’d passed through. The voice had to belong to the knight. He was taunting her. An immediate surge of determination stayed her from fleeing the premises in fear. Heat flushed her face and arms, giving her strength to face the horror down.

  “Show yourself, fiend, and end this game. I have come as you demanded, for my father’s life. Let us not toy with each other.”

  He chuckled darkly, amused by her show of boldness. “As you wish, my lady.”

  A wind rippled through the hall, flames dancing in its wake, light flickering and casting distorted shadows across the smooth walls. A chill seized her, her neck hairs rising with the feel of someone, or something, staring at her from behind. The look was palpable, prickling up her backside to the back of her head.

  Dark magic.

  Slowly, she turned back to look at the dark throne. Facing the death knight, she dragged her eyes up from the floor to gaze at one of mankind’s most feared legends in the flesh....

  He absorbed her attention, capturing it, like a moth drawn to the sweet dew gathered on a spider’s web. Speechless, she could only stare at him, take in every detail like a dying woman thirsting for water. To look upon him, he appeared as a man, but a cold emanated from his being that the distance could not lessen. The cold of the grave….

  Words failed her. All thought beyond the incredible urge to turn around and run assailed her with a strength and intensity she never imagined possible. Her heart pounded inside her chest, making her lungs ache with the pressure from the vital organ. She could feel her insides tremble, felt it move down her shoulders, arms, into her fingers and legs. Her knees felt as substantial as jelly.

  Like a pack of wild dogs, she knew he could sense her fear, and she also knew beyond anything else, that he must not see how terrified she felt.

  She clasped her hands together to cease their shaking and strode toward him, forcing a bravery into her body that she neither knew or felt. Only the love of her father could give her strength now. Her back held straight, her heart beating until she thought it would burst through her ribs. Halting at the dais, she gazed up at him, willing her eyes to reflect a calm she did not feel.

  An icy chill flowed from him, curling over her body like a lover’s caress. She fought against the numbness, watching as he took one step down and another, until he stood close enough she could reach out and touch him.

  Armor, blackened as though scorched by flame, covered him completely. Carved into the breastplate was a coat of arms: a spider twined about a rose. Something about it teased her memory but remained elusive. She shoved the irritant away, lifting her gaze. Hair the shining white of platinum spilled across his shoulders, drawing her gaze upward to his face. A helm obscured his eyes from her sight, leaving only his jaw exposed. Hard, angular, he was formed of bold lines, with cruel lips that threatened soft, sensual delights and wicked pleasures of the flesh....

  She shook herself mentally, wondering at the absurdly strange turn of her thoughts and if he’d planted them there with black magic. Could he be only illusion, a figment of her mind? He appeared not to be the monster of old superstition—a rotting, animated corpse possessing the power to kill with a single touch.

  Mayhap Henry had been foolish and wrong, driven into delusions of terror by the events of that night and his master’s capture. Perhaps this was just another warlord bent on gaining riches and infamy and nothing so sinister as a death knight.

  She couldn’t know when it had happened, but she’d begun to doubt herself, doubt that this man could be something as horrid as a death knight. Hardly daring, she reached up to touch him, to see if he was real. A shock of fiery ice jolted through her fingertips at the contact, numbing her hand. Red light flared from her fingers, and she gasped and pulled back. The pain ceased immediately.

  His eyes narrowed at her through the slits of the visor, but no longer did cold radiate from his armor. “You are a healer,” he said, sounding almost ... amazed.

  Bianca could only watch as his lips formed the words, fascinated. Some spell had taken hold of her. She dug her nails into her palms, squeezing her fists tightly. The sting cleared her mind, made her f
ocus. “I am as such.”

  “And you agree to exchange yourself for your father?”

  Bianca nodded. “But I must see him.”

  “He is ... already gone.”

  Her composure cracked. “What? Is he ... dead?” She feared what he would say, yet feared not knowing. If he’d harmed her father--

  His jaw hardened. “No. I sent him home on your horse when you entered my domain.”

  How could he leave without seeing her, without knowing that she’d come for him? How was she to trust this man’s word, when she had no reason to believe anything that issued from his mouth?

  Bianca whirled to run from him, but the knight grabbed her arm, halting her. “When he awakens, he will be in Raedan once more.”

  Bianca turned on him, feeling her anger and grief settle on her face. “You use foul trickery. How can I believe you?”