The Dark Lady (64 page)

“
She had better not be hurt. If you have let your demon defile her, I will see your head on the end of a spike.” Knowing Verges would not touch her mattered not. She needed to act as Eolian would expect her to. And anyone knowing her, as a man or a woman, knew that her temper was never on a very sturdy leash.

“
Now, my lady, dismount and drop your weapons.”

Van dropped to the ground, her mind now on what needed to be done. She could feel the fever and pain rushing through her, but it felt as if it was happening to someone else.

She hardly registered the ripple of pain that ran through her infected arm as she hit the ground.

“
Dismount my future bride as well, Vanessa.” He spit the name out like it was a bitter root.

She drew her sword, spinning to face him. This time her anger was very real.

“
Vanessa, do you plan to take on my entire army with just a whore and a bastard child? Do you, Vanessa?”

Taking a deep breath, she tried to focus on what was important: Amy and her safe return. That was all. Reluctantly, she dropped the sword to the ground.

Van helped Marshall from the horse. He cradled the heavy sack to his chest. His dismount was awkward with the heavy weight of the grain and he had to adjust the blanket. It made the charade more believable.

“
Drop your dagger as well, Vanessa.” Eolian’s sing-song chant tore through her. He gestured to Verges who then pushed Amy into another soldier’s arms and began to lumber toward her.

Cringing at the name, Van pulled the dagger from its home at her thigh and dropped it to the ground.

Seeing several men rush forward, Van scooped the dagger back up quickly and grabbed Marshall, pulling him in front of her. Wrapping her forearm around his throat she pushed the dagger to the blanket he cradled before him.

He tucked his hand inside the brilliantly colored throw, his arm trembling. She tightened her grip on him, shaking her head against his. She did not want him to rush into anything.

“
One man will come, one only, if you wish to even see your child.” She sent what she hoped were nervous looks at Verges, who had stopped not far from her.

“
That man there can come.” She pointed to a small, less threatening man off to the left. “Then you will send Amy down and we will exchange women.”

As she spoke, she saw the two scouts ride past her. She released a nervous breath. It appeared she had wasted enough time.

Eolian listened carefully to the scouts and began to smile.

He looked at her. “You really came alone. I knew you would. You were never smart enough to fool me.”

She tensed and felt Marshall shake his head lightly. She struggled against the anger that rushed through her. She wanted this man dead and she wanted to be the one to kill him.

“
One man is fine, but it will be the man I chose.” He glanced at Verges. “Verges, check them.”

Saying nothing, Van allowed him to check under the blanket. He ran his hand across the two sword hilts and smiled. Then he checked under the brown woolen hood Marshall wore.

“
Good,” he said and stepped away.

No one moved as Verges stopped beside Eolian and spoke quietly.

Van waited patiently. Verges stepped away and wrapped his arm around Amy.

Eolian began to smile. It was a deadly smile. Marshall shuddered and Van could only hope that he would hold it together during his first battle.

CHAPTER 30

Van watched with growing concern as Verges led Amy closer to her. His grip was tight on her arm and he pulled her back when she tried to yank away from him.

Van took in the ghastly paleness of Amy’s face, her torn and soiled dress, and clenched her fists so tightly her arms began to tremble. Amy looked at her with fearful eyes that were puffy and red from tears. Guilt hit Van so hard that it nearly knocked her over.

It was her fault that Amy was hurt. Tears clogged her own throat as she struggled to remain still.

Van cringed at the dark marks across Amy’s face. She wanted to believe that they were not strike marks. Yet having seen enough of them in her life, she knew them for what they were.

There were bruises on Amy’s arms and on her neck and her hair was in tangled disarray.

Anger made it hard for Van to hold her place. Pain trembled through her, and she fought her first instinct which was to draw her sword and start swinging. She could not lose it now.
Oh, Peter, please be on your way
, she pleaded silently.

As Verges led Amy toward her, Van watched the men inch their way forward. Eolian was not going to allow the trade, but she had already known that and was prepared.

She tightened her arm around Marshall, wrapped her fingers tightly into the blanket, and tensed. “Get ready.” It was just a breath against Marshall’s ear, but his body grew taut in response.

A bare nod of his head indicated that he was. She could feel the pent up energy quivering through him.

Never taking her gaze off of Verges, she waited. She slowed her breathing and closed her mind to anything except the men coming closer to her as she watched them from the corner of her eye.

Verges looked quickly at the three men that were coming forward. He smiled and flicked back his hood.

When Verges was two strides from the horses, the men rushed them. Verges pushed Amy into the arms of a tall and lanky warrior with bright blonde hair. Then he leapt for Van.

He moved quickly, but not quick enough to stop her attack.

Van flung the dagger into the retreating back of the blonde, his body falling to the ground as Amy jerked free of his loosening grasp.

Marshall stepped away from Van. The blanket whirled in a colorful blur as Van yanked it free of the cumbersome grain sack. She grasped the hilt of a sword and in one fluid movement both Van and Marshall pulled the weapons free. The sharp blades sliced through the thick burlap. Grain exploded into the air in a spray of kernels and dust. It thickened the air clouding their vision and invading their nostrils.

Amy rushed toward Van, weaving around the men that reached for her. Verges lunged at her, his hand closing around her dress. But let his fingers slide over the soft wool and cursed dramatically as she rushed past him.

Van turned to see Marshall pushing his sword through the protruding stomach of a man swinging a mace at him.

Van shoved Amy toward Marshall and screamed, “Get her out of here.”

He turned in time to catch her. “Milady.” He tossed his charge onto Ebro’s back. Her hands turned white as she grasped the coarse mane of the snorting stallion. Then he turned back to Van.

She swung her sword at one of the men.

“
Milady,” Marshall said, taking a step toward her and raising his sword to assist her.

“
Damn it, get her the hell out of here.” She swung her sword again at fierce looking warrior who came at her relentlessly. Her strikes were weak and pathetic compared to her normal blows. The vibrations of the impacts caused her to moan loudly as they ripped through her infected arm.

Anger stabbed at her like a stray thrust of a sword. Rage at her own illness and at Marshall for his stubborn insistence on remaining. She opened her mouth to scream at him once again, but nothing came out.

A grateful pride soothed her as Verges charged at Marshall. Marshall finally flung himself onto Ebro’s back behind Amy and kicked him into motion. Van would remember to discipline him later if she lived to get the chance.

She ignored Amy’s scream of terror as Marshall raced to safety.

Van’s sword found its mark and the man before her finally fell. Another man rushed her. Verges grabbed her. He wrestled the heavy weapon from her. She struggled against his strength, and felt hers leaving her rapidly. She tried to put up a good show for Eolian’s benefit, but could do little more than lean heavily into Verges’s massive chest.

With Amy now safe, the throbbing pain threatened to drag her into darkness. Men came at her from all sides, with weapons drawn, and she gave up the pretense of fighting.

“
Amy.” Verges’s panicked word cut through the gathering fogs like a bolt of lightning.

She forced her mind to focus and looked up. Her breath caught. Marshall was fighting with a man on one side. A redheaded soldier rushed them from the other, his hands outstretched to rip Amy from the protective arms of the young man who fought valiantly for her life.

“
Let me loose for a moment.” Her voice trembled and she hoped she had the strength left to help them. She began to struggle with all the power she could muster.

Verges allowed his grip to loosen and then he lost his hold on her completely just as the man’s hands grasped Amy’s arm.

Amy screamed, struggling frantically. Van drew the small handle-less blade from between her breasts. The cold steel glittered in the sunlight, light spinning off of it as it sailed across the still air. The man fell to the ground, the blade buried completely into his chest.

Marshall’s sword found its mark on the second man and they were free. He spurred Ebro heavily in the sides. The horse lunged forward, disappearing into the tree line.

Verges grasped her tightly against him once again. She smiled, hearing Eolian’s enraged scream, as the destrier bearing its two passengers disappeared into the woods.

“
Get them!”

Warriors jumped onto steeds and fell into pursuit.

Van slumped against Verges, her head lolling listlessly.

“
What do we do now?” His whisper caressed the top of her head.

“
Wait.” Her voice was weak and trembling. It was the thing she hated the most, but they had nothing else to do but wait. “And pray.”

Peter led his army through the trees carefully following the directions given to him by Joseph. He had recited his lines carefully and handed Peter the helm. Peter’s heart had dropped.

Now as they went through endless trees, he was beginning to fear that Joseph had gotten it wrong.

He turned to speak his concerns to Richard and Grant when a heavy crashing came through the underbrush not far ahead of them. He shot his hand up, calling for a halt.

Ebro burst through the shadows and Peter gasped. Upon his back was what looked like Marshall VanDyke, but he was dressed in a bright floral gown and his face was thick with powder. Peter’s shock was short lived as he realized why the young squire must be dressed as he was.

Van had found her Melinda. He wondered quickly what they had used for her son, but the sight of Amy clinging desperately to Marshall and hiding her face in the ruffles of his dress pulled his mind to more important issues.

Marshall glanced at Peter, but barreled straight for Devon. Before anyone even had the thought to speak, Marshall shoved Amy away from him and threw her into Devon. He caught her and pulled her onto his lap. His arms flew around her and she began to cry.

“
Get her out of here. Take her home,
no
w!” Marshall screamed and, without awaiting a response, wheeled his horse around. The young man who had been so backwards and shy only a week ago screamed at Peter as he rode past. “Lady Van is weak with fever. She is ill.”

The last words floated back at Peter, his fears coming to life. His heart fluttered and threatened to stop, but Peter ignored it. He kicked Jackal hard and took chase after the fleeing Marshall. He heard the thundering horse beats of the steeds, the snorting of excited horses telling him that his men followed close behind him.

Peter watched with pride as Marshall slid his sword into the saddle scabbard. Standing in the stirrups, urging his mount to race even faster, he pulled the gown and cloak over his head.

There was a moment of concern when he almost unseated himself in the process, but then the soft material disappeared beneath the pounding hooves of his horse and Marshall was seated once more.

The young lad, brave beyond what anyone had given him credit for, pulled his weapon free once more and led the charge through the trees. No hesitation was now evident and Peter was sure he was well on his way to becoming a great leader.

He saw a large group of horses racing toward them. The riders saw his approaching army and wrenched hard on the reins, wheeling their mounts around and racing back the way they had come.

Peter felt as if his life was violently ripped from his still conscious body as his horse broke the tree line. Standing in the center of a hundred soldiers was his wife, dressed as a man and trapped in the unswerving embrace of Verges with Eolian standing at his side.

A multitude of doubts swam through Peter’s mind. What if they were wrong about Verges? What if the man was not as trustworthy as Richard believed? How would he live his life without the woman he loved?

As he watched his wife and tried to push away doubts, Van slumped in the big man’s arms. Peter’s mind froze and his body went numb. Every nerve felt set aflame, as if a small ember had caught in the dry grasses of his emotions, as he took in the flush of her face. He urged more speed from Jackal.

Jackal snorted and tossed his head and, extending his neck and lengthening his stride, gave over the extra speed that Peter asked of him.