Claire Delacroix (41 page)

I had to be free. I shoved my hands into the flames, willing the fire to burn my bonds before my flesh. I bit back a scream at the lick of the flames and pulled against my bonds.

The rope loosed. I pulled one hand free and slapped out the flames clinging to the rope knotted around the other wrist.

Only just in time.

“It is not here!” Ada shouted through the smoke that was beginning to fill the solar. “You lying wretch!”

She raced back toward me, fury contorting her features when she saw that I was upright. She shoved me toward the burning bed. I lost my balance as I fell across the mattress. I twisted and clutched at Ada. She fell on top of me, cursing soundly.

She screamed and her hands closed around my throat. She squeezed and I felt the world around me dim. I choked for breath, flailed across the mattress and found salvation.

My hands closed around the brass candlestick, the metal warm yet not engulfed by flames. I rolled in a last desperate bid for survival and swung it hard behind me.

It hit something.

Ada’s grip loosened and fell back. I swung to my feet, gasping, ready to fight anew, but she did not move. There was a gash across her brow and she lay oddly still. I stretched out a hand, but in that moment, the canopy loosed itself and fell.

The entire bed was consumed in crackling flames, the heat pressing against my face and the light blinding me.

There was no time to think of what I had done. I lunged through the door to the labyrinth and felt desperately for the latch that I had once hit inadvertently. The flames danced closer, fed by the cool air, and I feared I would be too late.

I heard the tiny click and my heart fairly stopped. The panel slid back and for once in all my days, I was grateful to have cool darkness enfold me.

It would not last long, though. Orange flames were already outlining the door. I worried at the knot binding my ankles, worked it free, then plunged down the steps into the labyrinth.

Merlyn strode into a trap. I had to find him and warn him, before it was too late.

* * *

My fear for Merlyn was greater than my fear of the darkness and it drove me onward. I tended down, wanting to put distance between myself and the flames.

When faced with a choice between passages that both led down, I listened for the wind, heading always toward the taste of the sea. I put my foot in cold water more than once and retreated. I reached dead ends twice, but either retraced my steps or found another way.

I moved with haste. I was cold in my chemise with my feet bare on the stone, and my flesh was raw where the rope had chafed. I did not know how much of my hair was burned and did not care.

I could think only of Merlyn. I could have been in another world, one wrought of nightmares, for there was no hint that another soul drew breath near me.

The wind grew stronger after one turn, its chill making my sweat cold against my flesh. I hastened toward the patch of night far ahead.

The labyrinth fairly spat me into the raging sea. The tunnel ended so abruptly that I almost stepped over its lip into nothing. I looked down and had a dizzying glimpse of waves crashing upon rocks far below. The rain had stopped, but still the sky roiled restlessly overhead.

A path lurked to my right, winding back from the opening, then along the cliff face. I pursued it, falling to all fours when the wind coiled around me and might have flung me to my death. I crawled up the rock face, feeling my way in fearful haste.

I was startled to realize that my path ended on the point beyond the chapel. It was the course Gawain had taken in his flight. Beyond the chapel, a plume of smoke rose from Ravensmuir, black against the churning storm clouds.

I noted no more than that, before someone seized me from behind, one gloved hand closing cruelly over my mouth, the other locking my wrists together behind my back.

“Such a pretty prize,” Calum whispered into my ear. “I do prefer to have more with which to wager.”

I struggled against him, but he forced me toward the chapel. He pinned me to the wall, trapping me between the cold stone and the hard press of his armor. “What a vantage point you have to watch your lover meet his due.”

I gagged on his glove and his words. He whispered in my ear, well pleased with what he wrought. “You shall be witness, Ysabella, to the demise of the old laird and the conquest of the new.”

“Ada,” I managed to mutter through his grip.

Calum chuckled. “A woman easily deceived. She told me much that I needed to know, and all for the folly of thinking I would marry her. And why? She is too old to bear me the sons I desire and not sufficiently well born for my purposes. I will have a plump young nobleman’s daughter for my bride, even if I have to steal her.”

I made a sound of disgust, which seemed to amuse him.

“Have you killed her? I had a wager with my squire that you would best her.”

I bit him, but his gloves were thick and he only grunted.

“Watch,” he hissed and turned me so that I could see. Far to my right, beyond the stables and the smithy, a single lantern flickered in the wind. “Look, a beacon for the ship snared in the storm, a reference to a familiar harbor.”

I could only just discern the distant silhouette of a ship, tossing on the waves. It was just as Ada had threatened.

The sea glinted as it flung itself against the rocks to the north of me and I saw that the shoals extended far to sea. The island was there, half hulking below the surface of the rolling waves, a deathtrap for any ship fool enough to be guided or blown that way.

Or one tricked into making that direction.

I recalled that when I had seen Merlyn’s ship before, it had been anchored to the south of the chapel. There, the waves broke solely on the shore and I knew then where the Lammergeier’s safe haven lay. The overgrowth I had removed would have kept any casual intruders from exploring the point, from finding the access to the caverns below, and from interfering with shipping.

This light beckoned Fitz and Tynan to their downfall.

What could I do?

* * *

“Look!” Calum chortled gleefully.

Even as I feared for the ship’s fate, a man ran from Ravensmuir’s stables, his long-legged stride all too familiar. He raced toward the cliffs, fighting against the wind, then kicked the lantern burning there into the sea. My heart leapt as the flame sputtered and died, plunging the coast into darkness.

Calum laughed beneath his breath. “And they say the Lammergeier are not predictable.”

A moment later, I could see Merlyn’s silhouette as he stared out to sea. Calum laughed against my back. The ship drew nearer, its hull rising and falling wildly as the sea drove it inland.

“Too late perhaps,” Calum whispered, his attention fixed upon Merlyn. “Either way, he will now come to me.”

I choked as Merlyn did precisely thus. He ran across the courtyard, ran faster than I might have believed toward the chapel.

I saw the light on the coast flicker to life again, saw that Merlyn was unaware of what happened behind him, then Calum pulled me into the chapel.

It was dark within, but the gleam of his blade was close.

As were the blades of two of his squires.

I caught my breath, even as Calum hauled me toward the altar. “He will come for a lantern to light on the cliff and you will be silent.”

He whispered in my ears, his knife blade drawing a line across my throat. My breath hitched when I felt a warm trickle of blood and I nodded, wanting only to make him stop.

The three of them were coiled tense, the boys right by the door. It was clear the boys were meant to distract Merlyn - or at least weary him - so that Calum could take him by surprise.

I closed my eyes and prayed in silence. The chapel doors creaked in the wind, the sea slammed against the shore. I tried to envision Merlyn’s progress, tried to see how far he would come and how quickly. I would have only one chance.

I thought he must be close at hand, though the hammering of my heart made it hard to judge the time. I strained my ears and when I thought I heard a purposeful step outside the chapel, I moved.

I bit Calum’s hand as hard as I could, not caring if I broke a tooth. At the same moment, I drove my heel up under his tabard, feeling it connect hard with his groin.

He swore, his grip slipped, and I screamed Merlyn’s name.

He kicked open the door not a heartbeat later, his blade slashing at the two boys who beset him. The very fact that he had his sword at the ready told me that he might not have had need of my warning. One squire was quickly divested of his blade and fled into the night, while the other fought valiantly against Merlyn’s greater might.

I tried to race for the door, but Calum snatched at my hair, dragging me back painfully toward him. He wrapped my hair around his fist, holding me captive in his tight grip and I cried out. Merlyn struck down the second squire, then turned his gaze upon Calum. His chemise was torn, his hair tousled, his eyes dark. He looked unpredictable, unruly and dangerous.

Calum took a step back, pulling me with him. “I will kill her.”

Merlyn advanced one relentless step at a time. “I have no doubt of it.”

“I will butcher her before your eyes.”

“It takes a particular kind of man to kill his own daughter.”

Calum caught his breath. “What nonsense is this?”

“Elizabeth recorded the insignia of her assailant in her missive: a gold stag rampant on a black ground.”

I gasped, knowing that this was Calum’s own insignia. There was not so much difference between his assault upon Dunkilber and that made against Kinfairlie.

“You never read that aloud,” Calum scoffed, but there was fear in his voice.

“It seemed tactless to make such an accusation then and there,” Merlyn said smoothly. Calum almost had his back to the wall behind the altar. “I gave it to the king and his justiciar, though. No doubt there will be charges made against you shortly and Dunkilber will be reclaimed.”

“They cannot take that from me!”

“They can and they will, Calum, and the charge will bring a heavy price.” Merlyn smiled, sparing a quick glance to the chapel. “Unless, of course, you were to repent here and now of your crimes.”

“Never!” Calum cried. He flung me aside, drew his sword and lunged after Merlyn. Merlyn parried the blow, then attacked. The clash of steel on steel was deafening, the glint of the moving blades like quicksilver. I backed toward the door, knowing I should flee to safety but unable to not watch.

Calum cried out as Merlyn’s blade nicked his throat above his jerkin. He stabbed at Merlyn and pierced his tabard. Merlyn swept his blade away, laughing when Calum dove after him in rage. Merlyn was lithe and fast, younger and more agile than Calum. The older man knew it and deeply resented it. I knew it was because he feared to lose.

When a hand closed around my ankle, I realized it was because he planned further treachery. His squire leered up at me, and made to haul me down to my knees. I knew that gleam in a young boy’s eye and this one would have no part of me.

But I dared not distract Merlyn.

This fight was my own.

* * *

I struck the boy in the face with my fist, ignoring the echo of swordplay so close at hand. The boy fell back, then came after me with a snarl. I knew then that he would hurt me as well as rape me.

I fought with my fists and my feet, but the boy had mail on the backs of his gloves. His every blow was worth three of mine and he battered me with no care for what damage he wrought. He struck me in the mouth and I tasted blood, before I spat it in his face. He punched me in the belly and when I doubled over in pain, kicked me to the floor.

His companion slipped through the door like the vermin he was. When he seized my wrists and the other opened my legs, my spirit quailed.

The boys laughed as the one between my knees unlaced his chausses. I struggled, earning another blow for my efforts, and moaned.

“Ysabella!” Merlyn shouted. When he cried my name with rage, I knew he had seen.

But the boy chuckled and lowered himself over me, unthreatened. In a moment, I guessed why - I heard Merlyn catch his breath and stumble. Calum laughed and I knew that Merlyn had been wounded.

“No!” I screamed and struggled with new vigor. I fought and bit and was astonished when one boy released my wrists.

The face of the other, leering above me, went slack in the same moment. He fell over me, stunned, and I rolled from beneath his weight. It was Berthe who hefted a stone in her hand, her sweet face contorted with anger.

“Never again!” she cried.

The second squire had released me to reach for his knife, but I leapt up and slammed him into the wall. Berthe struck him as well, and he crumpled to the floor beside his companion.

My heart stopped when I saw that Merlyn lay senseless against the far wall, Calum bent over him. The blood flowed from his side and he did not appear to breath.

I cried his name and took a step toward him.

Calum straightened and turned, outrage filling his eyes. “Miserable wench!” he shouted and came after us. “I should have seen you dead in Dunkilber,” he growled at Berthe.

“Perhaps you should have,” she retorted and spat upon his tabard.

Calum roared and lifted his blade.

But he had turned his back upon Merlyn. While the bloodlust burned in Calum’s eyes, Merlyn rose to his feet, moving as stealthily as a shadow despite the evident pain in his side. Berthe and I held hands and stood our ground, letting Calum bear down upon us, trusting in Merlyn’s speed. He loomed large behind Calum, his blade lifted high.

Then Merlyn whistled.

* * *

Calum’s eyes widened in shock and confusion. He spun just as Merlyn’s sword came slicing through the air. Berthe and I hid our faces in each other’s shoulder as the blade slashed across the other man’s neck. Blood splattered against us and the chapel walls. We looked up as Calum fell backward at our feet, his blood flowing in a torrent across the floor.