The Dark Spawn (Battle Lords of de Velt Book 5)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “But de Bourne has refused them.”

  “He has, but William the Lion does not yet know that,” Cole stressed. “As far as I know, de Bourne has not yet sent a reply to his offer. He sent word to The Marshal first. Therefore, if the Scots army comes… when they come… Pelinom is in their path.”

  Jax nodded patiently. “I understand that,” he said. “That is why The Marshal gave me permission to send a message to the Scots and the Earls of Orkney on behalf of all of England in the form of my army. I have shown them what will happen should they carry out this scheme. But what I want to know is when. When do they plan on coming?”

  Cole lifted his eyebrows. “That is why we have captured Alpin,” he said. “That is the only thing we do not know – the time for such things. We do not know when and we do not know from where. For all we know, the Norsemen will come in through Berwick tomorrow. They can bring their longships down the River Tweed and destroy a great deal. This is what Alpin must tell us, Papa. I’m sure he knows.”

  Jax simply nodded, returning his attention to an entirely new row of impaled men going up along the western side of the road. Most were already dead, but they were going up nonetheless. Cole turned to watch the poles go up, his thoughts shifting from the prisoner they’d captured to the dirty deeds his father was engaging in. The Scots weren’t going down without a fight. They’d resisted as much as they could, but the de Velt army was too big and quickly overwhelmed any struggle. The Scots were, therefore, being as noisy as they could, bellowing and screaming as they were put on poles.

  It made for a loud and disturbing chorus.

  “I’ve not had to use tactics like this since before you were born, Cole,” Jax said as if reading Cole’s thoughts. “Something that was a means to an end, as this is. Your mother… she is not happy about what I am doing this day. But, as I told her, it is necessary.”

  Cole looked at him. “Never did I question your tactics,” he said. “You need not explain yourself to me. I understand completely why you must do this.”

  Jax glanced at him. “Then explain it to me,” he said, a warm glimmer in his eyes. “Tell me why I have done this, lad.”

  Jax wanted to see if his son truly understood and Cole was aware of that. It was important for the father-son relationship that Cole understood that his father wasn’t being brutal for brutality’s sake. He was doing it with an end result in mind, to protect those they loved and lands they’d worked hard for. Therefore, Cole’s gaze lingered on his father a moment before turning to the screaming, writhing men.

  “They are a threat,” he said simply. “Threats against Mother and my sisters, Effie and Addie. If you do not kill them, they may have the chance to kill my mothers and sisters.”

  “And not you?”

  Cole shook his head. “I can defend myself. What you are doing is defending my mother and sisters. It is defending what belongs to you and what you love, the life you have built. Your family.”

  As Jax mulled over his son’s answer, Atreus spoke up. A wise old man, and strangely gentle given the fact that he was as much of a barbarian twenty-five years ago as Jax ever was.

  His blue-eyed gaze fixed on Cole.

  “Well put, Coleby,” he said, perhaps one of the only people who called Cole by his full name, which was his mother’s maiden name. “The methods of elimination are the same, but back in the day when your father was bent on conquest, the reasons behind these actions differed.”

  Cole cocked his head curiously. “How so?”

  Atreus gestured to a big, hairy Scotsman who was resisting about a dozen soldiers who were trying to impale him. “See that man there?” he said. “Twenty-five years ago, your father would have destroyed him because he wanted what that man had. It was a method of eliminating a threat to his greed. But now… now he does it to eliminate the threat to what he has. Do you not think that Scots bastard would kill your mother and sisters given the chance? Of course he would. Every man who is part of Fountainhall’s army was already preparing to do just that. Therefore, your father is protecting what he has and, in that aspect, this is not a barbaric end for these fools. It is a just ending to the plans they were preparing to follow.”

  Cole nodded faintly. “I’ve spent the past two years learning about these men, sitting side by side with them at a feasting table and listening to them,” he said. Then, he gestured to Addax. “Ad has heard as much as I have, if not more. Truthfully, when The Marshal tasked me with spying on the Scots royal court, it was with the intention of keeping watch over their activities. I did not have any particular directive other than to observe and report. The alliance with the Earls of Orkney… that was a surprise. I thank God every day that I was in the right place at the right time to learn of something that would directly affect my family.”

  Jax put a hand on his son’s very big shoulder. “As am I,” he said. “You have saved us, Cole. I am proud of you. I am proud of you all.”

  He meant Addax and Essien, something that made Addax smile modestly. “It has been an honor, my lord,” he said.

  “What will you do now?” Atreus asked. “Now that your days of infiltrating the royal court are finished, surely you must have a plan for your future. It is not as if you can return to William the Lion. He’ll hang you both if he sees you.”

  Cole and Addax grinned. “I do not know,” Cole said honestly. “I assumed I would return to my father’s army to be used whenever The Marshal had the need.”

  “And me,” Addax said. “I have found my home with Cole and the House of de Velt, and I do not wish to leave it. My brother and I rather like England.”

  Atreus looked to the man with eyes as black as night. “Someone told me that you had spent some time on the Flemish tournament circuit,” he said. “You do not wish to go back to that foolery? It can make you quite rich.”

  Addax laughed softly. “I have done many things in my life,” he said. “Spending a couple of years in the tournament circuit was simply one experience. Since leaving my home many years ago, I have had the opportunity to do a great many things. Talent, and the ability to learn quickly, will open up the world to you providing other men feel the same way. I have been very fortunate that the Christian knights have seen value in who and what I am.”

  “And what are you?”

  “A prince of my people,” Addax said with a twinkle to his eyes. “The son of a king who no longer rules, but a son nonetheless. My father was called Qara Ejder to our people and that is the name I adopted on the tournament circuit as a way of keeping him alive. I was allowed to compete because of the testimony of Count d’Acoz. He explained to the marshals of my lineage and bloodlines. In fact, d’Acoz knighted me himself. He said no man was more worthy of the knighthood than Qara Ejder.”

  Atreus was listening intently. “What does that mean?”

  “The Black Dragon,” Cole answered for him. “He was known in the tournament circuit as The Black Dragon. And they called Essien the God of Vengeance.”

  Atreus’ eyebrows lifted. “That seems both bold and embittered,” he said. “Why should they call him that? Essien has never struck me as being a vengeful man.”

  “Because his name, by birth, is Horus,” Addax replied. “Horus is the ancient god of vengeance, a symbol of power to my mother’s people. So when Essien also competed in tournaments or sport, he was known as the God of Vengeance. It sounds much more impressive than The Little Princeling, which is what I wanted to call him.”

  Atreus chuckled. “I find your histories fascinating,” he said, but quickly sobered. “I would like to hear more of it when this task is finished. I’ve not had much opportunity to speak with you and I would like to.”

  Addax dipped his head graciously, but he, too, realized this wasn’t the place for such a casual conversation. They were at the culmination of two years’ worth of work, a moment of great brutality and great violence.

  There would be time enough for introspective conversation later.

  “What more would you h
ave of Addax and me, Papa?” Cole asked, watching his father’s men finally gain the upper hand on the big, hairy Scotsman. “Is there something else you would like us to do?”

  Jax nodded. “Secure Fountainhall,” he said. “This place is deep in Scottish territory and I cannot spare the manpower to try and hold it, so we are going to strip it and burn it. Take everything of value and burn it to the ground so that it is unusable for years to come. Does Canmore have a wife?”

  Cole nodded. “He does.”

  “Have you seen her today?”

  Cole shook his head even as he looked at the enemies impaled upon the poles that were lining the road. “I do not believe so,” he said. “I have only met her once, a big woman with flaming red hair.”

  “Find her and bring her to me.”

  “I will,” Cole said. “Anything else?”

  Jax nodded. “I will spare one of Canmore’s men to tell people what has happened here,” he said. “Someone must be witness to this great destruction and who brought it about. Select that man and bring him to me along with the wife.”

  Cole pulled tight his gauntlets, preparing to carry out his father’s directive. “And where will you be?”

  Jax turned his head in the direction of his encampment, his eyes glimmering in the light of the midafternoon sun. He had unique eye coloring, something that only served to enhance his diabolical and ruthless reputation. His left eye was muddy-brown and the right eye, while mostly of the same muddy color, had a huge splash of bright green in it. The man had two different-colored eyes, something he’d inherited from his father and his father before him.

  Devil eyes, were the whispers.

  Jax’s sons had all inherited it to a certain degree, including Cole. He had his mother’s golden-brown eyes, but they were encircled with a bright green ring. His brother, Julian, had their father’s eyes almost exactly, and Cassian, their youngest brother, had it also but it was far less pronounced. Two of the three girls had avoided that trait, but the youngest one, Addington, had a fascinating mix of the muddy-brown and the green, evenly patterned in both eyes.

  They were eyes that defined the de Velt family.

  And it was the eyes of Jax himself that were pondering the distant encampment and his son’s question.

  “I will be with our captive,” he said after a moment. “Find me there.”

  Cole and Addax nodded, heading off towards the smoking fortress, leaving Atreus to oversee the dissolution of the Scots army as Jax headed back to the encampment. It was tucked back in the same small forest that gave up its small, younger trees so Jax’s army could make pikes. As he approached, he could see one corner of the forest that had been stripped, with the foliage mashed. Men were still pulling saplings out of the undergrowth and several of them were turning the ends into sharp points with great axes.

  Just like old times.

  Several tents had already been erected in the encampment, including a tent that housed the wounded. Though the battle hadn’t been particularly fierce, there were the inevitable wounded in the tent, men being tended to by a surgeon who had come to Jax through his liege, de Vesci. Piers Michelson used to be a knight for de Vesci many years ago, but he’d found his calling in tending the wounded and healing the sick. He could see Piers, his gray hair pulled back to the nape of his neck, bent over a man who had damaged an eye. But that glimpse was fleeting as he entered his own tent.

  The first thing he saw was Essien.

  Tall and broad-shouldered, Essien immediately bolted to his feet when Jax entered.

  “My lord,” he said. “Your prisoner is secure.”

  Jax’s gaze lingered on the young man. “Thanks to you, I am told,” he said. “Excellent work, Essien.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  Jax genuinely liked the young knight who had seen so much, and suffered through so much, even at his young age. It had only made him stronger. Jax wasn’t usually sympathetic to younger knights, mostly because they looked at him as something either to be feared or challenged, but Essien showed him nothing but respect.

  He received that in return.

  “It was most fortunate when my old friend d’Acoz sent you to my service,” he said. “Of course, he mentioned something about a compromised young woman and an irate father, and sending you to safety in England, but it was nonetheless a fortuitous happening for me. I do not regret it.”

  Essien struggled not to grin, a faint blush coming to his smooth cheeks. “Nor I, my lord.”

  Jax fought off a grin at the randy young knight and the real reason he and his brother had come to England, but he was all business as he turned to Alpin, still trussed up on a pole. His expression darkened as he went to stand in front of the man, looking him over.

  The tension in the air bloomed, becoming heavy and uncomfortable. Fear was there as well because when dealing with The Dark Lord, there was no telling what the man would do. More than any knight in England, Jax de Velt was a man to be feared because of his past deeds, deeds he was more than willing to resurrect should the need arise.

  “You are Alpin Canmore?” he finally asked.

  Alpin jumped at the sound of his voice, filled with fear that the enormous warrior with two-colored eyes was addressing him.

  “I am,” he said, his voice quivering. “Who are ye?”

  Jax was looking at him with intense scrutiny. “I am de Velt,” he said. “Fountainhall Castle has been destroyed and, by all rights, belongs to me. You are now my prisoner. Do you understand this?”

  Alpin swallowed hard. He’d just heard the confirmation of his worst nightmare. “I do,” he said. “The man I knew as MacEacharn now tells me his name is de Velt.”

  Jax nodded. “He is,” he said. “He is my son. He infiltrated your royal court. If you do not understand what that means, it means that he was spying on you and your king. Do you understand that I have the power of life and death over you, Canmore?”

  Alpin was struggling not to give in to his utter terror. “What do ye want with me?” he demanded. “I’ve no’ done anything tae ye. I’ve never attacked yer lands or yer kin. Why did ye do this tae me?”

  Jax glanced at Essien, tilting his head towards the tent entry and silently inviting the man to leave. Essien took the hint and quickly vacated. When he was gone, Jax pulled up a sturdy three-legged stool and planted his bulk on it. He focused on Alpin, who was shivering and bound.

  “Because you are part of a plot against me,” he said after a moment. “Do not deny it, for I know it to be true. You are part of your king’s plot with the Earls of Orkney to try and regain Northumberland. Now, I do not fault you your greed or ambition. If anyone understands that, it is I. However, your greed and ambition put my land and my family at risk. This, I cannot allow. Do you understand me so far?”

  Alpin was staring at him. More like glaring at him. “I’ve no’ plotted against ye, de Velt.”

  Jax’s dark eyebrows lifted. “But you were part of those gatherings,” he said. “The gatherings where the scheme to control Northumberland was planned in secret. You were witnessed there, so you cannot deny it. It would be a lie and I do not tolerate liars.”

  Alpin’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer before looking away. “Ye do what ye must tae keep yer country safe and strong,” he said. “So do I.”

  “That is reasonable,” Jax said. “But I was told that your plans included sweeping east to Coldstream and the bridge. ’Tis the easiest way into England unless you choose to go through Gretna. Now, there are a dozen other smaller bridges across the River Tweed, but in order for your armies to flood into England from Coldstream, you would have to pass through my lands. Would you bypass my castles when you did so?”

  Alpin knew the answer to that question. He still wouldn’t look at Jax.

  “Ye’re Sassenach upon Scot lands,” he said. “Ye dinna belong here.”

  “Mayhap not, but they are mine nonetheless,” Jax said. “It would be much easier if we knew the details of William the Lion’s
invasion plans, Canmore. We would be better able to protect ourselves. When does he expect to execute his intentions?”

  The conversation, in truth, was a little strange. Jax was speaking almost pleasantly, as if this were nothing more than a light discourse. But Alpin wasn’t fooled.

  “I canna help ye,” he muttered.

  “That’s odd,” Jax said. “Because you are the one who has been sending missives to Alastor de Bourne, asking him to join the Scots rebellion. As descendants from the Kings of Northumbria, I believe you told him that it was his duty to rebel against the Normans who took his kingdom away. Do not look so surprised; I know everything. As do many other people. Your missives are no secret.”

  Alpin did look surprised because he was. He’d been sending them for months now, but he hadn’t received any reply. Now, he evidently had that reply.

  De Bourne had betrayed him.

  It was a sickening realization.

  Jax could see that he had the man off-balance and he planned to continue that interrogation tactic. The more he could rattle Alpin, the better.

  “I have a family to protect, Canmore,” he said. “You have seen what I am capable of, yet you refuse to tell me what I wish to know? I will stop putting your men on poles this very minute if you tell me what I wish to know. So in a sense, you are responsible for their deaths. Stop killing them, Canmore. The power is yours.”

  They could hear the distant screams of agony as more of Canmore’s men were impaled on spikes. Jax knew that it must have been excruciating for Canmore to hear those ghastly sounds, so he backed off his interrogation. He wanted Canmore to ponder his question, and his statement, with those cries of pain searing into his brain.

  In truth, he was waiting for the wife to appear.

  Then things would get interesting.