Angie Arms - Flame Series 03 (6 page)

“Which leaves the road heading into the forest west of Kilkenny,” Christopher said
, pointing to the road he drew with the charcoal.  “It circles back around, and then heads deeper into the woods to an old fortress that has been abandoned for many years.  Since no one mentioned an army passing through Carsl when we traveled through, then I would think it’s a sure bet they took her to the fortress.  At the very least that road turns north again, and they could be gone now.  But if they went that way I bet is has something to do with the old fortress because it is not an easy road to traverse.”

Christopher finished and looked at Garrick expectantly
, who narrowed his eyes.  “How would you know this?”

“It is my business to know what dangers are near the Countess.  To better protect her.”

Garrick said not a word, but studied him.

“If I was here I could have stopped this,” there was a plea in his voice
, as if it were not too late for Garrick to change his mind.

“If you were
here, you would be dead too,” Garrick said, stepping forward and picking his helm up off the table.  He paused, turning he added, “Stroud is a bad man.”

“I guess coming from you
, he must be pure wickedness.”

The side of Garrick’s
face rose in a smirk, bunching up the scarred cheek, and made it look frightening.  “An expert are we?  Are you coming or do you want to stay here with the women?” Garrick asked, strolling quickly toward the entrance.

Christopher scowled and
grabbed his own sword and helm, rushing after the departing Garrick.  It seemed as if the Countess would be changing one evil for another, but at least with Garrick he could be near.

~ ~ ~ ~

“What does it look like to you?” Garric
k asked Marcus.  The two men along with Christopher, silently approached the old fortress, keeping to the trees.  The structure was just that, a falling down wall that enclosed several small buildings that were also in the process of falling down, and a larger structure in the back, that by all appearances, was built into the cliff that gave it a natural defense.  Unless someone wanted to descend several hundred feet on ropes, it was impenetrable from the rear.

“It looks like there’s no one around.”

Garrick nodded solemnly, as he contemplated what to do.  The place could be empty or it could be a trap.  Stroud was one of the many individuals who descended from a long line of power, and did not look kindly on Garrick, a whore’s bastard, just seizing power.   It didn’t bode well for the future, if the lower class could just take what they wanted.  Stroud was intent on not only taking back the lands Garrick held, but on slaying him as well, as an example to all those not fit to wipe his boots on.

“Gather the men.  We’re riding in hard and fast.  I want Ros to take his men straight through the front gate.  Daniel’s through the gap in the wall to the right, Tomas to the left.  The three of us will go through the hole in the wall at the main structure a moment before they make their move.  If Ryann is here and she has Stroud’s men guarding her
, we’ll have the element of surprise by being inside before the main force hits.”

“If they have the Countess and they make a move toward her
, I’ll kill them,” Christopher stated with finality.

“If there is anyone here, they die,” Garrick replied
, with a cold confidence before moving back to his horse.

Garrick leaned forward in his saddle
, resting his hands on Malik’s withers.  He felt anxiety curling in the pit of his stomach.  When was the last time he felt like this?  Had he ever felt like this before a battle?  It just kept running through his mind that Ryann was in there and might be killed as he went riding into the fortress.  But what choice did he have?  If she wasn’t here, he had to find her.  She was his, granted by the King, and the fury that a man like Stroud would look upon her, let alone take her, continued to build within him.

He heard the call that signaled all were in position.  He dug his heels into Malik and he jumped forward with the other horses.  They thundered through the hole in the fence, skidding to a halt in front of the stone building, sending their horses to their haunches as they catapulted from their saddles.  Garrick was in the lead as they rushed through the main entrance, the dirt floor silencing their hurried steps.  In the entry chamber nothing stirred, silence reined.  Garrick motioned Marcus
to light the torch.  He waited patiently for the torch to be lit, as far as anyone else would be able to tell.  In his mind he cursed the man’s lack of speed while lighting the torch mounted on the wall, when all his future plans depended on the Countess living.  The torch flared, but the light was not enough to force away the gaping dark abyss that led deeper into the structure.  Chaos erupted outside as the trio stepped into the darkness, only banished by the flickering light.

The stone structure was just the face of this large labyrinth of chambers and corridors.  They had to have moved into the bowls of the mountain now, the air was cold and damp, the walls and ceiling
s were chiseled from stone, and the floor alternated between dirt and stone.  On and on they wound.  They encountered no one, not even the Countess.  She had to be here, if she wasn’t here, there were an endless number of possibilities.  He felt as if each one raced through his mind twenty times by the time they came back out into the courtyard.  His men reported not a living soul stirred.  Many of the men balked at entering the stone structure, fearing the dead were in abundance here.  Garrick had to bite his tongue to keep from lashing out at their foolishness.

Garrick
left his men in the courtyard and went inside to do a more thorough search.  In one of the deep corridors, underneath a pile of wooden crates, was a hatch door that led deeper into darkness.  Perhaps it was once an old dungeon?  The smell from the rot and decay on the cool damp air rose out of the hole.  Garrick stepped back from the abyss and he felt the fear rise in him again.

A step was barely discernible in the glow of the torch.  Without hesitation Christopher rushed forward
, and quickly disappeared into the darkness yawning up at them.  Marcus glanced to Garrick, who gave a short nod and proceeded forward, illuminating the way for the two of them as they descended.  Catching up to Christopher at the bottom of the steps, Garrick took a quick assessment of his surroundings, looking left then right.  A third passage wound its way behind the steps.

Off the corridor
s were rooms of different sizes, chains were drilled into the stone, and many were not empty, but held the wrists of skeletons.  The place was sinister, an evil place where people were placed and forgotten.  It was a grave for many who were sentenced to a slow death that comes only after hunger has eaten the inside of their stomach, pain has been the only assurance they weren’t dead, and madness had eaten its way into their brains. Garrick heard tales of this place, but never did he imagine the stories to be true and hidden away on his own property.

“Countess?” he called out, his voice sounded too loud by far in the silence of the chamber.  “Countess?”

Silence reined for a moment before Christopher turned and disappeared into the darkness.  Garrick thought for a brief moment he would leave him to traverse the dark hole himself.  Despite any feelings they might have for one another, Christopher’s motives on this day were purely out of regard for Ryann’s safety.  Garrick raised a hand in the direction the man disappeared, indicating Marcus was to follow with the torch.

At the end of the first corridor, as Christopher turned back to them, Garrick saw terror in the man’s eyes.  It brought anger flooding in on Garrick, because this man felt a great deal for his bride to be.  Everyone felt a great deal for the Countess, and Garrick suddenly felt he was left out.  If Ryann was still alive and he didn’t allow himself a chance to get to know the woman, he would always remain on the outside looking in.  Not just at Kilkenny, but anywhere life was yet to take him.

Marcus fell into step behind Christopher, the chamber quickly grew dark as the two men moved away.  Garrick’s mind side tracked back to his childhood, there came a point in his life he knew he would never belong, and apparently the knowledge was dismissed from his mind.  But now he felt a hope so strong it nearly took his breath away, Ryann was the key.  Lords and commanders could be replaced, a husband and friend could not so easily be forgotten. 

“She’s here,” came Christopher’s shout, muffled by the walls
, but sweet none the less.  Garrick’s feet pounded along the dark corridor, reaching the main chamber the glow of the torch led him in the direction Christopher’s shout came from. He quickly found the two men, the torch in a wall sconce.  The Countess was there, her head resting against the wall, her clean and smooth hair was a tangle of knots and filth.  Her face was so bruised her eyes were nearly swollen shut with black, blue and red splotches marring her perfect complexion.  Her perfect skin was anything but, and blood dried on her busted and parched lips. The bodice of her gown was ripped open and hung loosely in rags around her.  Her skirt likewise was torn to shreds, her bruised legs were no longer modestly concealed.  He could see the blood that ran down her inner thighs, and on down to her calves.  Christopher was crouched before her, reaching a hand out to her, he touched her arm.  Her eyes flew open and she shrank back, shaking her head as she moved back as far as her chain would allow.  Her wrists were bound in shackles attached to the wall.  The iron was large encompassing her delicate wrists, and the brutality of what these men did enraged him.

“No,” she managed in a croak
, as she pressed her body against the stone of the wall.

“Countess, it’s me, Christopher,” he said gently
, but she continued to press herself away.  Her hands came up to fend him off. 

How many times did he see
this same reaction from other women?  How many times had he made women react in stark fear?   But he never misused them like this.

“Ryann,” Garrick said
, softly nudging Christopher out of the way.  She continued her pathetic attempt to avoid them, the chains clinking.  With cat like speed he sprung, grabbed her hands and pressed them into the wall above her head.  He had to learn long ago to watch out for claws, many a hellcat left a mark on him, sometimes the women were more dangerous than the men.  By the looks of her, his wife was a fighter.  “Ryann,” he said, leaning down to whisper soothingly in her ear.  “Shhh, I won’t hurt you.  Shhh.  Ryann, you know who I am.”  Her body remained tense, and she strained to pull her hands free.  “Shhh.  Look at me,” he said, leaning over her face and holding her hands with one of his, he used the other to grab her by the chin, and gripping it tightly held her there.  “You are mine and no one will take you again.  I swear it.”  When she looked at him and he saw recognition light the blue depths, he let go of her chin and reaching out, stroked her matted hair twice, before allowing his hand to stroke down the side of her face.  She again tried to pull away, but his hand was there, gripping her chin again.  “Mine,” he declared, deliberately digging his fingers into her skin.  He knew when she began to come back and shook her head with his hand, his fingers digging even deeper.  “Do you hear me?  No one takes what’s mine.”

“But,” she began, her tongue coming out to lick her lips.   “But they did,” in a very tired, weak voice.

He didn’t like the raw emotion flooding him and he knew he could not conceal it.  To hide it, he released her chin only to snake a hand out to dive into her hair, taking a firm grip on the back of her head.  His other hand claimed her thigh, he could feel the dried blood under his fingers.  He cursed himself for bringing this fate onto the Countess.  She gasped, but was unable to pull away.  He knew he was hurting her as he bent over her, bringing his lips to her ear.

“Forgive me for not protecting you.  Your purity would have been a fine gift
, but my only regret is the pain you suffered.  Stroud will pay for that.”  He felt her shudder, but he didn’t release her.  He did pull back so he could look into her swollen eyes.  “We will marry tonight, and our people will believe I did this to you.  You do not want to have a bastard,” he quickly explained, his distaste for the title was evident. 

“Stroud left his men to do this.  He took Daley.  He had a special interest in the boy.”  It took several minutes to get the entire explanation out
, but once she did her body began to shake.

He released her
, looking down at the white hand print on her bare thigh that quickly turned red, and his anger raged.  Stroud had no right to do this to his future bride.  He stood and in one quick motion he drew his sword and sparks flew as he struck the chains with it.  Two more blows and the chain broke and she was free.  He knelt back to her and she tried to shrink back into the wall, but had nowhere to go even without the chains holding her to the wall.  He reached for her, tucked one hand behind her stiff back and another under her thighs, and lifted her.  She moaned quietly at the movement and he felt himself want to stop her pain, but he was too late for that.  He had to ask himself why her pain and suffering would matter to him.  He likened it to his care of Malik, a fine steed who carried him in and out of many battles, his usefulness made it necessary to care and thus must be the same with his future wife.

Marcus led the way up out of the darkness with Christopher trailing close behind.