Dark Warrior (27 page)

Brigid kneeled beside Mary, sobbing uncontrollably.

Reena entered and began wailing as soon as she saw the bodies. She threw herself down opposite Brigid to flank Mary's body and to let no one near.

It was Magnus's duty to see to Decimus, and he kneeled beside him as the men poured into the room. After making it look like he had examined the body thoroughly, Magnus raised bloody hands as if in proof. “Decimus is dead.”

Reena wailed her sorrow, rocking back and forth on her haunches, the blood beneath Mary catching the hem of her dress and growing into a large stain.

One of the men pointed to Roarke and shouted, “Look, the man who escaped the fortress, he is the Dark One.”

“Take his head, Decimus wanted his head,” another shouted.

Thomas hovered protectively over Roarke.

Magnus knew time was of the essence. Any moment Decimus could regain consciousness. He had to be moved immediately. And they needed to get Roarke away from the angry men.

Magnus barked orders. “There has been enough blood shed this day. No more will be spilled. Go see to a wagon. We will take the bodies and bury them in the woods.”

“Decimus deserves a decent burial,” one of his men said.

“His reputation is known far and wide. Do you not think some would want to do harm to his grave and perhaps his body? His wife has been in my care before he wed her. I will see her properly buried on my land. The Dark One's grave also needs anonymity.”

“We keep the Dark One's head to show the church council that he was caught and he will trouble us no more,” one man demanded.

Magnus stood tall. “He will be buried with his head and his grave will be known to none.”

The man's hand went to the hilt of his sword.

“Try it,” Magnus challenged. “And you will be dead before your sword leaves your sheath.”

“He is the Legend,” the man behind the challenger warned.

“Go prepare a wagon now,” Magnus ordered, stepping toward the men.

They scurried like frightened rats and Magnus shut the door behind them.

Mary raised her head. “Is Decimus all right?”

“He is still unconscious and pray he remains so until we are away from the fortress,” Magnus said. “We will wrap the three of you in blankets and Thomas and I, along with a few of my men, will take you into the woods for burial.” He turned to his wife. “Gather our things as fast as you can and be ready to depart when we return.”

Magnus bent down in front of Mary. “We cannot chance meeting with you again. You must flee immediately. Roarke has directions to the island I spoke of. Be safe, Mary, and be strong.”

“Thank you, Magnus, I will never forget you.”

“We must hurry,” Reena reminded, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Keep up your wailing, Reena, while we are carried out and placed in the wagon, in case Decimus should come awake,” Roarke said from where he lay on the floor. “My thanks and Godspeed.”

The two made fast work of wrapping the bodies, though leaving enough room for them to breath. Decimus was the most difficult, being unconscious. Magnus sent Brigid to get a few of his men to help carry the bodies out. He would take no chances with Decimus's men, though he expected opposition, which he got as soon as his men entered the hall carrying Decimus's wrapped body.

“We carry our lord,” one demanded and a dozen men stepped forward in support.

Magnus was about to protest when he realized it would be good for them to feel the dead weight of his body. It would leave no room for doubt.

“You are entitled that honor,” Magnus said and signaled his men to hand Decimus over.

Reena wailed louder as they transferred the body and prayed that Decimus remained unconscious. It was only a short distance to the wagon, but anything could happen. The dead trio would not be safe until they were far away from the fortress.

Decimus's men did not rush and took care when placing their lord's body in the wagon. They backed away reluctantly, fear of the Legend making them less inclined to argue over his burial.

Roarke's body was added next and laid beside Decimus's, and Mary was laid on top of Decimus. This had been agreed upon in case he should wake; she could urge him to be silent until all could be explained.

Reena ran to the side of the wagon wailing, and as she took a heavy breath she thought she heard a groan. She grabbed the side of the wagon and wailed like a banshee screaming in the night.

Magnus rushed to her side and she threw herself into his arms and whispered between her sobs, “I think he wakes.”

Magnus signaled Brigid, who rushed to Reena's side, and when she learned of the problem she joined Reena in wailing as loud as she could.

Thomas hurried to join Magnus on the wagon seat and Magnus's men mounted their horses, following the wagon that pulled away from the fortress at a steady pace. As much as Magnus wished to rush, he could not. People lined the courtyard, in homage or gratitude that the devil was finally gone, he was not sure. He could not ignore their presence, so the pace was steady but slower than he preferred.

“Keep silent,” Mary urged in Decimus's ear when she felt him stir. “It is time to trust
me
.”

He could barely move or see; he only heard his wife's urgently whispered warning. That she lay on top of him eased his concern, for at least she was with him; otherwise he would not have remained where he was.

The roll and sway beneath him could only mean that he was in a wagon and, wrapped as he was, he could only assume it was a death cart he rode in, which meant Decimus was thought dead along with his wife.

Mary had gotten her way. He was not certain whether to be angry or relieved. But then it mattered not, for the deed was done and could not be revised.

He thought about her words to him. She had not expected him to completely give up his work to help the innocent, she merely wished him to change the way he helped. Was it possible? Could he teach as Mary's father had taught? He could help many remain free and he would . . .

See his child born
.

The thought was a jolt to his heart and he suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of relief and joy. He would have a life with Mary and their child, and more children would now be possible. He would be able to resume use of his name and his bloodline would endure.

He wanted to wrap his arms around his wife and hug her tightly, let her know that her strength and wisdom was much appreciated.

She had courageously set them free.

Decimus listened as Magnus instructed his men to guard the trail and make certain no one followed them. One by one he heard the men ride off. Then after what seemed like an hour of riding along a bumpy road, the wagon drew to a halt.

Mary was lifted off him and he felt another body beside him that was quickly removed. He was lifted out last and unwrapped from the blanket. His wife stood before him, Magnus and Thomas flanking her.

Magnus was the first to speak. “She did this because she loves you.”

Decimus stepped forward and stopped abruptly, catching sight of the blood that soaked her stomach.

She hurried up to him and pressed her hand to his fake heart wound. “Goose blood.”

He grabbed hold of her and hugged her tightly to him. “You took such a chance.”

“I had to,” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I could not live without you. And the seer told me it was time for Decimus to die.”

He looked at her oddly. “The seer?”

“The old woman, in the village you took me to, she was a seer. She told me that Decimus was my destiny and that I would be his demise. I did not understand her words until I discovered that you and the Dark One were one. Then I realized what she meant. With Decimus's demise, my destiny with you would be secured.”

He cupped her face in his hands. “And you had the courage to meet our destiny. I am proud to call you my wife.”

They kissed and Magnus and Thomas grinned.

Roarke stepped into view. “Almost lost my head because of you.”

The two men grabbed each other in a bear hug.

“You took an extreme chance for me, Roarke.”

“Not only for you, Michael, for me as well. I have grown tired of running and hiding. Now that it is done, thanks to your wife, I am grateful.”

“There will be time for talk between you three later,” Magnus said. “You must hurry and be on your way. Decimus's men may have attempted to follow. You need to get yourselves as far from here as possible, as fast as possible.”

Thomas had retrieved two sacks from beneath the front seat. He placed them on the end of the wagon and opened one.

“Brigid and Reena saw to packing clean clothes,” Thomas said. “It would do you no good to be seen with blood-ridden garments. They also managed to pack a sack of food.”

“Kiss them for me,” Roarke said and reached for clean garments.

Mary took her clothes and walked into the woods to change quickly while the two men saw to shedding their bloody garments. In minutes the trio looked like ordinary peasants, except for the sapphire and garnet rings on Decimus's fingers.

He took them off and handed them to Magnus. “Do what you will with them, I care not.” He then slipped his arm around Mary. “I have a gem worth much more.”

With handshakes, hugs and waves the group parted.

“I am going to scout ahead a few feet to make certain no one is about,” Roarke said and walked on.

Decimus took hold of Mary's hand and they began to walk. “You will tell me when you grow tired.”

She smiled and grasped his hand tightly. “I feel wonderful. We are free. Free to love and live and that makes this a glorious day.”

“I agree,” he said with a huge grin. “And know, wife, that I love you with all my heart.”

“And know, husband . . .” She paused and frowned at him. “Who
is
my husband? I want his real name.”

“It has been so long since I have spoken it.”

“Then it is time for you to speak it once again, for your child shall carry your name.”

He smiled with pride and looked upon his wife. “I am Ryan of Emlygrennan.”

Mary grinned. “And I am Mary wife of Ryan of Emlygrennan.”

Ryan kissed her, slipped his arm around her waist, and together they took their first steps into the future as husband and wife.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2004 by Donna Fletcher

ISBN: 0-06-053879-1

www.avonromance.com

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First Avon Books paperback printing: November 2004

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EPub Edition © APRIL 2012 ISBN: 9780062212337