Tall, Dark, and Medieval

by Barbara Devlin

  “My lord? Is anything the matter?” Asad was just making his way to the great hall when Drake just about plowed into him.

  “’Tis Brynn. She’s gone. I think she’s released the prisoners.”

  “Nay!” shouted Asad, following Drake to the dungeon.

  The guard at the door was fast asleep, and Drake bent down to try to wake him. He only snored louder.

  “It looks as if he’s had too much wine,” said Asad, pointing to the overturned goblet by his hand.

  Drake picked it up and sniffed the empty cup. “Brynn is up to her witching tricks again.”

  He pulled open the door and ran down the steps. Asad was right behind him. He expected to see the cell guard sleeping as well - but outside the cell - not in it. And he expected to see that Brynn had released every last prisoner. He was wrong. The cells were locked, and every prisoner was still in place.

  “What’s going on here?” He rattled the bars of the cell, waking the guard. The man sat up and rubbed the back of his head.

  “Lord Thorndale,” he said, scrambling to his feet. “She hit me from behind. I didn’t see it coming.”

  “Brynn hit you hard enough to render you unconscious?” he asked in amazement. The thought almost amused him. Mayhap he should train her as one of his warriors. She was a feisty wench, even under the influence of relaxation herbs.

  “Nay, not Lady Brynn,” he answered. “I’m speaking of the old seer.”

  “Juturna?” This time he laughed. “She’s so frail and old. If her punch landed you in the cell, then I need to look for another guard.”

  “She had something hard, very hard, in that medicine pouch of hers.” He moaned and rubbed the lump on the back of his head.

  “Probably her gazing crystal. I guess it has more power than I thought.”

  Just then, Sir Broderick made his way across the cell floor toward Drake. “Forgive me, my lord, for betraying you. I never should have done it. ’Tis just that between Calais and my older brother - ” The knight looked toward his brother lying on the floor being nibbled by rats. To Drake’s horror, he realized the man was dead.

  “He’s dead, my lord,” grumbled the guard.

  Drake suddenly felt remorse. Remorse like he’d never known. Had Brynn been right about the prisoners after all? Should he have given them a second chance? One of his best knights died because of his refusal to help him. Sir Burgess had been true to him at one time. He didn’t understand what went wrong.

  “Find the keys,” Drake said to Asad. “I am not so inhumane as to let one of my former knights be eaten by rats. We’ll bury the dead and then we’ll look for Brynn.”

  * * *

  Brynn held on tightly to the sides of the hay wagon as Juturna drove it wildly over the pits and rocks in the road. The old man buried himself under the hay, and didn’t seem to even mind the ride. Brynn’s head was aching, and her vision still wasn’t all that clear. The herbs Juturna used for the sleeping potion were much stronger than she’d imagined. Her stomach turned with every bump, and when they stopped with a jolt, she hung her head over the back and retched.

  “Juturna, why did we stop?” she called. “We’re not to Lornoon yet.”

  “No, we’re not,” came a male voice. She raised her head to see Calais looking down at her. An army of men dressed like fierce warriors in chain mail and animal furs sat on horses behind him. The Klarens. She would know them anywhere. These were the men responsible for her parents’ deaths. “Surprise, surprise,” Calais said with a laugh.

  “Calais!” She sat upright, noticing that his leg was still splinted, and he used a stick for a cane to walk around. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  A grizzly warrior with a scar across his cheek lowered himself from his horse and joined them. “So, Witch,” he bellowed. “This time we’ll make no mistakes. This time you’re going to die.” He reached out and grabbed Brynn’s hair, turning her face up to look at him.

  “Let go of me, you filthy beast!”

  “I should enjoy killing you just as much as I did your witch mother.”

  “You were the one to kill my mother?” Angrily, Brynn pulled his dagger from his belt, reaching up and striking it across his unmarred cheek.

  “Bitch!” he said, pulling her hair so hard she fell out of the cart to the ground. The man stepped on her wrist, making her release the dagger. He reached for it, and held it to her throat. “You’ll die for that.” He wiped his hand across the blood running down his face.

  “Release her,” screamed Juturna.

  Brynn realized they’d tied the old woman’s hands behind her back and one man was holding her in a tight grip against his chest.

  “You kill me and the Dragon’s Son will hunt you down like a dog,” Brynn spat. “Drake will slice you from ear to ear and then stick your head on a spike for harming me.”

  “I’d like to see him try.” The man was going to kill her. Hadn’t it been for Calais, he most likely would have.

  “Wait!” Calais held out his hand. “I have an idea. We’ll use the girl to lure Drake and his men to us. We’ll kill them all and claim Thorndale Castle for ourselves.”

  “He’s not a Klaren,” yelled a man atop a horse, pointing to Calais. “Why should we listen to him?”

  “Because,” said Calais. “I’m going to be Lord of Thorndale. I’ve already bedded the witch, so I think as soon as I kill off Drake, I’ll claim her for my wife.”

  “You won’t be lord.” The scarred man spat at his feet. “I’ll marry the witch and claim Thorndale Castle as my own.”

  “You’re forgetting the curse,” said Calais. “Look at me! Anyone who beds the girl will be cursed unless he can kill off Dracus.”

  Brynn knew the Klarens were very frightened of witches and curses. They wanted to kill her in the first place because they feared her powers. To put another curse on their heads would be asking for sure death.

  “Then I’ll kill her, just as I’ve planned. I’ll claim Thorndale either way,” said the man.

  “Did you ever consider the curse for killing a witch?” Calais asked with a raised brow.

  “Let Calais have her,” shouted the man atop the horse. “We’ll take everything else.”

  “Don’t forget about Dracus,” Brynn reminded Calais. “Do you really think you’ll be able to kill the dragon?”

  “Mayhap not,” said Calais, scratching his chin. “But I know someone who can kill it, and you’re going to help us lure the man to the dragon’s lair. Yes, if Drake knows you’re in danger, he’ll blindly lead his men into a trap to try to save you.”

  “That’s not true!” she cried. “Drake cares naught for me. He won’t come.”

  “We’ll just see about that,” snarled Calais. “Now let’s find a messenger to take the news to Drake that his bride is in peril.”

  Just as he said that, the old addlepated man stirred from under the hay. The Klaren holding the knife to Brynn’s throat removed it, pulling the old man out into view.

  “How’s this?” he asked, holding the bony man up by the scruff of his tunic.

  “That’ll do just fine,” said Calais, laughing and nodding his head. “Just fine.”

  * * *

  Drake threw the last pile of dirt onto the grave and handed the shovel to Asad. Burgess had always been one of his strongest knights. Drake thought he, himself, would die before this man did. Funny how fate took a rotten turn.

  “My brother was frightened by you, my lord,” said the younger knight, Broderick. “He always respected you, but your anger is what turned him against you.”

  “What do you mean? How could that be?” asked Drake, plummeting the wooden cross into the ground.

  “If you’ll pardon my brashness, my lord, may I speak freely?” asked Sir Broderick.

  Asad and Drake exchanged glances. To speak freely was seldom requested of one’s lord.

  “Aye, please do.” Drake was still leery of the man. Though he’d released him to help bury his brother, Drake had
every intention of putting him back in the dungeon when they’d finished.

  “Burgess always thought you were connected to Dracus somehow. He said your anger is what fed the beast. I never believed him, my lord, honest I didn’t. But his words made sense when the dragon always appeared at your darkest disposition.”

  Drake wondered how he had been so blind for so long. Brynn had told him the same thing. How was it that so many others could see the truth, but yet Drake was oblivious to the fact that his father, Dracus, acted only through Drake’s own emotions?

  “Your brother may have spoken more truth than you believe,” Drake told him.

  “Then you are connected to Dracus, my lord?”

  “The dragon is my father. I plan to kill him off soon. My men and I have been waiting for him to appear throughout the night.”

  “Then may I come with you to prove my loyalty, my lord? I’d like to fight at your side to defeat Dracus.”

  Drake’s head told him not to trust the man. He’d betrayed him once, so what was stopping him from doing it again? He looked to the ground at the grave, and felt the waste of a good knight. In a way he was responsible for the man’s death. Had he helped him with his wounds instead of throwing him into the dungeon, Burgess might have lived.

  “For your brother’s sake, I’ll give you another chance.”

  “Thank you, my lord. You will not regret your decision.”

  “I only wish that I could be so certain.”

  “My lord?” Birdie, shyly walked up to meet them.

  “Yes, Birdie? Are you here to inform me as to where Brynn has disappeared?”

  Birdie nodded and looked to the ground. “She’s gone to Lornoon. To find you, I believe.”

  “To Lornoon? By herself?” he asked. “Doesn’t she know how dangerous that is?”

  “The three of them went,” she told him.

  “What three? Explain yourself.”

  “Juturna and the old addlepated man.”

  Drake just now realized that the old man hadn’t been in the cell when he removed his dead knight. Brynn had released only one prisoner. The one she’d told him wasn’t involved in the conspiracy against him. The old man who spouted nonsense about the dragon - about his father.

  “Asad, I’m going to go find them.” Before his squire could answer, voices shouting from the courtyard announced the arrival of the old man driving the hay wagon like he was possessed, straight for them. He shouted nonsense at the top of his lungs which Drake couldn’t decipher.

  “Whoa, whoa,” said Drake, holding his arms out to stop the horse. Asad and Broderick ran to help. When they’d gotten the horse calmed, Drake reached up and pulled the old man from the driver’s seat.

  “What is it that possesses you, old man?” Drake growled. “Don’t you know there’s children that play in the courtyard? No one drives a wagon that fast through here.”

  “They call the dragon,” the old man yelled, arms waving in every direction. “They wait for him. They have Brynn. They send me to bring the dragon to them.”

  “They?” asked Drake. “They who? What is this nonsense you’re spouting, and where is my wife?”

  “She waits at your jaws. She will be consumed unless you can stop it.”

  “I think he means Lady Brynn,” shouted Birdie.

  “Yes,” agreed Asad. “I believe she’s in trouble.”

  “Is this true old man?” Drake grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. He swore he heard the man’s teeth rattle in his head. “Who has her? Who has Brynn?”

  “His talons are three, so they be. But his sword he can wield with the claws that are free.”

  “Talons are three?” asked Broderick. “That doesn’t make sense. Is he speaking about the dragon?”

  “Nay.” Drake released him, looking out over the hills toward the sea. “He’s talking about Calais. The man missing two fingers. He’s using Brynn as a lure, and I think I know exactly where to find him.”

  Drake stormed off toward Gollimer, jumping into the saddle and pulling back on the reins. The horse neighed and reared, pawing the air with his front hooves.

  “Where has he taken her, my lord?” asked Asad.

  “He’s taken her to Lornoon. He plans on sacrificing her to the dragon to try to break his curse, I am sure of it.”

  “You’ll never get to her in time,” shouted Broderick.

  “Yes, I will,” Drake said with certainty. “Calais won’t kill her until he knows I’ve arrived. He thinks he can feed me to the dragon as well.”

  “I’m at your side,” said Asad, mounting his own horse. “If he’s with the Klarens, you may need help.”

  “I am here,” said Broderick. “Just tell me what to do.”

  “Alert the rest of my men to armor up and don their weapons,” he instructed the knight. “They know the way. Tell them I’m at the sacrificial post atop the cliffs of Lornoon.”

  “I will, my lord.” Broderick ran off toward the bunkhouse.

  “My lord, is it wise to leave your orders with a former traitor?” asked Asad.

  “He was once loyal to me, having taken the vows of knighthood,” Drake reminded him.

  “But he did betray you. How do you know he’ll even give the men the message?”

  Drake watched Broderick running through the courtyard, making his way to the knights’ bunkhouse. Everything Asad said was true. He should never leave a command of going to battle with a traitor. But people could change. Brynn had showed him that. She had the opportunity to set the prisoners free and she didn’t. She’d once wanted to kill him, but now she risked her life to try to save him. He never believed in second chances before, but he, too, was starting to change.

  “That’s the chance I’ll have to take,” he told Asad. “Now let’s be off. I need to save my wife.”

  THE DRAGON AND THE DREAMWALKER

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Drake saw Brynn atop the rock, tied to the sacrificial stake even before he made it to Lornoon. Calais was standing next to her like a survivor, showing off his spoils of war. He spied them as soon as he started up the cliff, and when he got closer, he heard Brynn screaming to him.

  “’Tis a trap, my lord. Go back! ’Tis a trap.”

  Calais slapped her hard across the face and proceed to poke her in the side with the stick he used as a cane.

  “Nay! Don’t hurt her.” Drake noticed the sky darkening and the wind picking up. He felt the urge to kill Calais for touching Brynn.

  “I’m not alone, Dragon’s Son.” Calais laughed and gave a signal. Suddenly, they were surrounded on all sides by fierce, rugged men. Most were on foot, but the leaders were on horseback. Each one carried a dangerous weapon, be it a double-edged sword, a mace, spiked ball on a chain, or stick and sharp staves.

  “Klarens!” cried Asad. “We’re surrounded.”

  “Aye,” answered Drake, turning Gollimer in a circle to survey the situation. “I know them well.”

  And indeed he did. He, at one time had been the leader of the fierce Klarens. He had trained each of them personally, making them the vicious murderers they were. He had taught them to not only fight and conquer, but to hold no mercy for prisoners. He was the one who led them to battle, killing, pillaging, thinking the more possessions he gained, the more power he held. He wasn’t so certain anymore these beliefs were worth fighting for. Mayhap the Dragon’s Son had a change of heart. He didn’t want to follow in his father’s footsteps, as Brynn so generously pointed out he’d been doing all these years.

  “What are we going to do?” Asad drew his sword, ready to protect his lord.

  “We could use some archers about now,” remarked Drake.

  “I told you not to trust Broderick. I knew it was a mistake.”

  “It wasn’t a mistake, Asad. Every man needs to be trusted and respected at some time in order to have faith in himself. If I made the wrong choice, then I’ll die by that decision. I only regret that my decision will bring about your demise as well.”
>
  Asad sat up taller on the horse, proudly if Drake wasn’t mistaken. “Nay, my lord. I’ll fight to my death protecting you by my own wish.”

  “Your loyalty is admirable, Asad. But I don’t think we’ll have to die after all.”

  “My lord?”

  “Hit me, Asad.”

  “I could never.”

  “Hit me, I say or I’ll strike you down dead where you sit.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would you want me to do that?”

  “Don’t ask questions. Now hit me hard. I want to feel your knuckles in my face to know I’m still alive.”

  Drake angered when Asad was about to refuse, and reached over his horse and cuffed him with his own fist instead. Asad moved his head at the last minute, but was still grazed by Drake’s fist.

  “You are serious, my lord.”

  “I wouldn’t jest at a time like this. Now, do as I say.”

  “As you wish, my lord.”

  Drake wasn’t expecting the fast, hard blow, as Asad reached over his horse and crashed his knuckles into Drake’s jaw. Drake went off balance, almost falling from Gollimer in the process. He brought his hand to his mouth to find his lip split and bleeding.

  “I apologize, my lord. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  Drake was impressed with his squire’s punch, but wouldn’t let him know it. “You hit like a woman, Asad. I don’t even know why I chose you to protect me. Now hit me again, and this time I want to feel it.”

  Asad did as asked, this time knocking Drake from the horse entirely. Drake did nothing to stop his fall. He picked himself up, eyeing the Klarens who were still waiting to attack. The distraction had worked. The Klarens watched curiously, holding off their attack. He only hoped he could hold them off until his men arrived - if they arrived at all. Drake still had faith in Broderick. He needed to give his men more time. Suiting up in armor wasn’t done quickly. He and Asad should have suited up also, but he hadn’t wanted to waste the time. He had to save Brynn.

  The Klarens laughed at him, and he felt it down to his soul. Never would a one of them have laughed at him while he was their leader. Had they done that, he would have run them through with his sword two at a time. He felt the embarrassment and the rage brewing within him. His body ached and he hated Asad for making a fool of him. It was just the way he wanted it.