Captured by the Dark Lord (2 page)

Henry nodded reluctantly and
left, guiding the team around the drive to the stables.

Lord John stepped carefully
over the threshold, keeping one hand on the stone wall so he wouldn’t get
disoriented.  A few steps inside, he found a wall sconce and lifted a beeswax
candle from its holder.  The wind repeatedly snuffed the spark from his flint,
but he finally managed to light the wick, and weak light crept over his hand
and spilled onto the floor.

With the light, he could see
he stood in a large antechamber.  Behind him, dual, arched windows studded the
wall, revealing little with night closed around the castle except in the brief
flashes of nature’s light that proved more disorienting and unnerving than
helpful.  John tightened his coat about his middle against a sudden gust of
wind and nearly lost the fragile flame to its snuffing fingers.  Cupping his
hand around the candle limited the extent of his vision, but it would have to
do.  As he looked ahead, he could see a black hole of a doorway break the
smooth inner wall, and he moved toward it, glancing inside.

A great hall opened before
him, cavernous and black.  The ceiling stretched beyond his sight in the
dimness, saved only from infinity by broken windows casting meager light that
couldn’t reach as far down as his own head.

He shuffled forward, the pain
in his knee flaring from the damp.  He needed to find a hearth, and he was
familiar enough with the architecture of olden days to know there should be a
massive fireplace somewhere in the hall.

“Hold your steps, old man. 
You have ventured where you don’t belong and would do best to take care.”

The voice spoke from the dark
ahead of him, as deep and cold as the grave.  A fist squeezed his heart a brief
moment before releasing him.  Lord John gasped in pain and surprise, resisting
the shiver crawling up his spine.

“My apologies, Sir.  I
thought this place to be abandoned, else I would not have entered.  Who is the
master of this house, that I may ask shelter for a time, until the storm
abates?”

“I am lord of these lands.”

Lord John feigned a
pleasantry he did not feel.  “I am Lord John Bordeaux of Raedan.  To whom do I
have the pleasure of meeting?  I confess, my lord, I ... I cannot see you.”

A flash of light lit the hall
as torches flared along its length, and fire burst to life in two great hearths
on either side of the hall, tall as any man.  Blinded momentarily by the sudden
brilliance, Lord John blinked rapidly to adjust to the brightness, taking a
step backwards at the sudden onslaught of light and warmth.

A flicker of fear flared deep
in his soul.  A darkness entered his blurred vision, growing rapidly, seizing
his attention as surely as death on swift wings.  He dropped the candle he held,
his fingers nerveless as he saw the lord of the manor.  Frozen to the spot,
encompassed by an unnamable horror, he could do nothing as the man in blackened
armor strode down the centerway toward him.  Dust stirred from the floor,
sifting through the air like a choking cloud.

This was no man ... no man at
all....

The creature stopped before
reaching Lord John.  He could sense rather than see thin tendrils of ice
reaching out from the black knight to steal his warmth.  The man’s presence so
near him made his chest ache with fear and the blood rush through his veins.

John took a halting step
back, then straightened, his will fighting the terror gripping him.  “I’ll bid
you goodnight then, my lord, if I am not welcome,” he spoke softly, his voice
raspy despite an injection of false confidence.

“I think not.  You have
trespassed here.  There is a price to be paid.  By you and your manservant....”

“I came alone--”  His jaw
snapped shut as movement sounded behind him, a brief shuffle of noise quickly
silenced before a gasp echoed through the hall.  Henry had joined them.  There
could be no denying his presence now.  Silence reigned for the span of two
pulsing beats of his heart, and John realized the quiet extended beyond the
reach of his ears save for his own pounding heart.  The storm had abated, or
else it could not be heard in this great tomb.

“My lord,” Henry gasped,
coming up behind him.  His was a steadying presence, though his own fear was
palpable even to John.  What could two old men do against such a foe?  He’d not
wielded a sword in decades....

“What do you ask of me, my
lord?  I will pay any price for our freedom--”

“Would you?”  The dark lord
barked a laugh, mirthless and cold.

“Gold, jewels.  My daughters
will pay any ransom you seek.  Please, take pity on an old, foolish man.”

The black knight turned then
to cross to the hearth fire, his deep purple cape a black swirl around him. 
Light reflected off his armor like hellfire, deep and red as the blood of the
innocents.  “Tell me of these daughters you possess.  What of the eldest?  Is
she fair and pure?  If you lie, I shall know it,” he said with barely leashed
menace.

Lord John liked not this
questioning but could say nothing more than the truth.  She was safe.  This
monster could not harm her.  “Sh--she is a healer ... renowned across the land
for her beauty and her heart, a heart as white and pure as snow.  She would pay
any price to have her father back in her home.  She is a good and loving
daughter.”

The knight faced him again,
raising mesh covered fingers to his helm in thought, as though considering
John’s words.  “I will give you your freedom.”

Lord John and Henry each
breathed in a deep sigh of relief.  “Thank you, my lor--”

“In exchange for your eldest
daughter, the healer.”

* * * *

“No.  You cannot ask this of
me.”

The dark one chuckled.  “I do
not ask, old man.  It is the price I
demand
... for your life.”

Lord John moistened his dry
lips.  “Might I speak with my manservant a moment?  In private?”

A grim smile still playing
about his cruel mouth, the dark one nodded. “By all means.”

Lord John bowed, and he and
Henry moved a small measure away, far enough they felt they could not be
overheard.  Briefly, it occurred to Lord John that they might use the moment
best by attempting an escape, but reality was a cruel master.  They were
neither of them young, strong, spry as they had once been.  They stood not a
ghost’s chance in hell of escaping the castle, even with such a one as the dark
lord on their heels to add fleetness to their steps.  And, even supposing fear
lent them wings, they could not recover the carriage and horses before he was
upon them.  Escaping on foot was not even to be considered as a possibility.

“You must go, Henry, and
return with men to aid in my release.”

Henry blinked rapidly in
surprise, holding his chest as if he feared his heart would break free and
burst forth.  “How can I, my lord, with that devil watching?”

“He means to keep me alone
here.  He has said nothing of holding you prisoner, and one of us must go back
to fetch Bianca.  He intends to send you.  I depend upon you, Henry, to gather
men willing to come to my aid.”

“Master, I fear they’ll not
come.  I would have to tell them who holds you captive, else the lot of them
would balk and flee the moment they came within sight of this awful place. 
With their old superstition confirmed that a death knight roams these lands--”

“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.”