The Angel's Assassin (2 page)

Her heart pounded
in her ears as she waited for the intruders that would inevitably come. She
knew she shook, but she could do little to control it – who knew what awful
fate might befall her? A brief flight of determination filled her and she
snatched at a candelabrum, crying out as hot wax dripped onto her hand.

And she waited,
eyes glued on the arched doorway that would announce her fate.

With a sudden bang,
the oak door swung open and Annabel launched the candelabra at the invader. It
crashed against the door behind him as he ducked before looking at her in
surprise.

“Lady Annabel?”

“Aye,” her voice
trembled.

“Your uncle has
sent me to you. You must make haste, my lady. The rebels will not be held back
for much longer.”

Annabel looked over
the stranger in fear and awe. He stood at least two heads taller than she and
his shoulders filled the wide arch of the doorway. His black hair was cropped
short, curling slightly over his forehead, and his jawline bore the same dark
hair, similarly short. A touch of grey at his temples and lines around his eyes
indicated a life hard lived, and she suspected he was at least ten summers
older than her. His voice came out in a resonant growl that sent shudders
through her.

Should she trust
such a man? There was a dark, foreboding aura about him, though that could have
had much to do with his black attire. His eyes glinted almost black in the
shadows of the doorway, yet when she looked into them, something reverberated
through her and she decided to trust him. There was little else she could do,
she admitted, but she considered herself a good judge of character.

He held out a
gloved hand. “My lady, pray we must tarry no longer.”

A crash from below
met her ears and it startled her into action.

“Aye.” She nodded.

Quickly pulling her
mantle from where it hung on the back of a chair, she swung it over her
shoulders and made to take his hand. Pausing, she scurried over to the painted
oak chest that sat at the end of her bed.

“My lady,” the
knight called with some aggravation.

Flinging open the
chest, she threw aside the fabrics that filled it, their bright colours
glinting in the candlelight, until her eyes alighted on what she had been
searching for. Snatching her mother’s necklace, she tucked it safely into her
bodice and took one last look around the room. Satisfied that she was making
the right decision, Annabel turned back to the black knight and took his hand.

His glove closed
over her fingers and a surprising warmth seeped into her arm. A wash of relief
cast over her as she laid a hand on his large arm. Aye, she had made the right
choice – this man could protect her from aught.

Leading her through
the door, the knight cast a wary eye around, drawing his sword as they
descended the spiral staircase.

“Stay close to me.
‘Twill be no easy feat taking you from the castle without anyone taking
notice,” he murmured into her ear.

“How came you to be
here then?”

“I draw less
attention,” he said wryly.

The sounds of battle
drew closer as they continued down the winding stairway. He pressed her behind
him as he peered around the corner. Saying naught, he slowly drew her forwards.
The minstrel’s gallery that spanned the entire keep was empty, but a look
through the arched gallery revealed her men-at-arms fighting to keep the
invaders from entering the Great Hall. She let out a slight cry at the sight of
battle but her rescuer ignored her sound of distress, pulling her back into the
staircase so that they could descend further.

As they ran into
the Great Hall, Annabel noted the disarray. Overturned tables and candelabras
were scattered across the floor and several candles burnt into the rushes. She
prayed that they were too damp from the recent inclement weather to set alight
and burn her family home.

The knight’s eyes
darted from side to side, looking for an exit. The only way in and out of the
keep was down a steep set of stairs on the outside of the square tower. It was
unlikely an escape would be achieved easily with the rebels on her doorstep. He
cursed and Annabel forced down the panic that bubbled up inside of her.

One of the
men-at-arms spotted her and he drew back as he knocked an attacker aside,
delivering a clanging blow to his head.

“Milady, you should
not be here,” he puffed.

“Gerard, my uncle
has sent for me. If I can make an escape, you can surrender the castle without
fear. I would not have anyone die in my stead.”

The brawny knight
nodded and swiped at the sweat dripping down his face. “Is this your uncle’s
man?” He nodded to the dark knight.

“Aye. Lord Benedict
sent me when he received word of the impending attack.”

Gerard looked him
over with mistrust, the two men eyeing each other in a silent battle of wills,
and then looked to his mistress. Annabel gave him a reassuring smile and he
relented.

“Aye, well you will
do well to look after Lady Annabel. There will be many who will have your head
should she come to harm.”

The man nodded
brusquely. “I will see her well. Pray we have need of a distraction while I get
the lady to safety. Can your men put up a last stand?”

Gerard grinned at
this, a wide toothy smile that flashed in the shadows of the keep. “Aye, that
we can.”

Motioning to his
men, they drew forwards to meet with their comrades still fighting courageously
in the bailey.

Watching them
disappear out of the hall, the knight drew her closer. “Try and stay hidden
behind me but be aware of my swing. I have no wish to injure you should I need
to fight.”

Annabel gulped and
nodded, wide-eyed with fear and apprehension. The shouts of men fighting for
their lives terrified her and she dreaded what could come next.

Following him
cautiously out of the hall, they dashed down the outer stairs and into the
bailey, her champion brutally swiping at anyone in the way. Gerard and his men
held most of the invaders at bay but a few escaped through, intending to gain
entrance to the keep. The odour of blood filled Annabel’s nostrils and her
stomach retched, almost forcing her double. The knight’s strong arm reached out
behind him and practically pinned her to his back, holding her upright.

Skirting the
palisades, they made their way to the gate as the knight continued to slash and
slay a path through. Forcing her out through the gap in the wooden wall,
Annabel gasped with relief as he urged her forwards, away from the deadly
onslaught.

A shout behind them
gave her cause for alarm as she realised that she had been seen and several men
began to give chase. Her dark defender cursed and swivelled around, pinning her
to his back once more. Upon eyeing the three men barrelling towards them, he
sighed and gave her a stark look.

“Run, my lady. Hide
in the forests and I will find you.”

She blinked at him,
fearful of leaving the man who had brought her this far, but she nodded upon
seeing the bleak look on his face and trusted that he would stay true to his
word and find her. Annabel ran as fast a she could in her heavy skirts, making
for the refuge of the gloomy forest edge. A battle cry erupted from behind her
and it drove her to run faster for fear of what could be happening behind her.
She heartily prayed for the brave knight as she sprinted across the flat land
that led away from the great keep.

***

Nicholas watched as the men
approached through his cold, dark eyes. Angry that he had been forced into
battle, he roared and shook his sword at them, goading them towards him. He had
come this far, he wouldn’t let his precious burden be taken from him now. And
she was precious….for the moment, at least. Although he had begun to wonder if
he should not have demanded more coin from the lord now. He had not realised he
would have to steal her away in the middle of a full scale war.

Weighing up his
opponents, he was pleased to note the bloodlust that filled their expressions.
For others it would have been hard to recognise such a look, particularly
underneath their metal helms, but Nicholas was an expert in fighting. And
death.

As a fighter, he
was entirely too single-minded to allow emotions to overcome him. His focus
allowed him to fight harder, faster, and stronger, giving him the opportunity
to succeed where others would almost certainly fail. Like when facing three
bloodthirsty enemies, for example.

The first one came upon
him quickly. Lanky, and therefore faster, he arrived before his comrades,
giving Nicholas the chance to fight him undistracted. He was cut down quickly
with a swipe to his chest and he fell with a howl.

The second two were
more cautious than their comrade and they approached together. A droll smile
flickered on Nicholas’ lips as he immediately took the offensive, swinging down
upon the first man with frightening speed. His opponent barely parried the blow
and stumbled, but Nicholas was unable to take advantage of it as the other man
lunged for him. The air vibrated around him and time seemed to slow for
Nicholas as he met the lunge with a forceful swipe, sending his enemy’s blade
wide. Swinging his sword back the other way, he sliced clean through the knight’s
arm, his sword embedding into his side.

The other knight
saw the opening and stabbed his sword forwards quickly. Nicholas spotted the
movement and jumped aside, allowing the blade to glide past his chest with
little space to spare. Wrenching his blade from the fallen knight, he threw his
weight behind his sword as he plunged it down into the neck of the man. As his
enemy dropped to his knees, gurgling in pain, Nicholas extracted his sword
without a glance at the dying man.

The first knight
was crawling away, dragging himself across the dirt, but Nicholas ignored him.
These men were not his quarry. His was cowering in the forest somewhere waiting
for her rescuer. He sighed as he wiped his blade upon the dead man’s tunic. He
supposed he better go find his beautiful prey.

***

Nicholas found her trembling in
amongst the undergrowth, not far from an ill-used forest path. She was hardly
concealed; her pale hair and skin made her appear like a spectre under the
bright moonlight. He had been surprised when he had first seen her, though why,
he did not know. She was incredibly small, her features tantalising and
painstakingly put together - as though God had chosen very carefully to bestow
such a delicate creature with a slender jawline, a slightly upturned nose and
full lips. It was her eyes that had caught his attention. Wide and wary, they
had stared at him with fear and then with unquestioning trust. Framed with
golden lashes to match her golden eyebrows, their strange grey colour reminded
him of the steel of his sword. Such large eyes in such a refined face were
utterly unexpected and he felt pinned down by them and totally exposed.

Her hair was
remarkably long, trailing past the curve of her spine, and it was so blonde
that it was almost white. Bound into a simple braid, he wondered what it would
feel like loose – would it be as silken and as thick as it looked?

Cautioning himself
against such thoughts, he was astute enough to recognise the flare of desire.
It was rare he desired anyone if he was honest with himself, and the last thing
he need was to feel an attraction to someone he would have to kill. A small
part of him hoped he would not have to. What harm she could possibly do to her
uncle, he wasn’t sure. It seemed to him such a creature was about as dangerous
as a child. But it mattered not. He was here to do a job, and do it he would.
Nicholas was naught if not thorough.

Annabel turned with
a start as she heard his approach. Fear quickly gave way to relief and she
bestowed a dazzling smile upon him. Nicholas frowned as she jumped up and
placed a hand on his arm. He didn’t take well to people touching him but he
couldn’t bring himself to remove her dainty fingers.

“I am glad you have
returned to me, I feared being left alone in these woods. They say ‘tis haunted
by all manner of ghosts…” she trailed off as she saw his scowl. “What are we to
do now?”

“Your uncle wishes
for you to join him at his home.”

“In Hampshire?
‘Twill be a five day journey at least.”

He nodded. “Aye,
mayhap more on foot.”

A furrow marred her
brow and Nicholas longed to smooth it out with his fingers. “You have no
horse?”

“Nay, ‘tis easier
to escape unseen on foot.”

It was rare that he
did ride. Nicholas had become an expert in slipping in and out of places
unnoticed and it was difficult to do so with a mount. When distances
necessitated it he would buy and sell steeds as he went, but he never attached
himself to the animals.

He cursed as he
turned, spying the flicker of torches proceeding towards them. It seemed that
the keep had been surrendered and they had discovered that Annabel was not
there. Now that the rebels had control of the keep, he doubted they would hunt
hard for the Lady of Alderweald Castle but he could not risk discovery. Not
after he had slaughtered three of their men.