The Darkland (30 page)

"Johanne, listen to
yourself!" Edmund pleaded. "You're mad, love, simply mad!"

Johanne growled deep in
her throat, bringing the spit up and wielding it like a spear. Edmund screamed
but was unable to evade the weapon as she plunged it deep into his belly,
twisting the rod brutally and loving every moment of his suffering. Micheline,
jolted with horror, shoved Valdine and Wanda toward the open kitchen door.

"Run!"

The women obeyed.
Leaving the screaming and grunting behind them, they raced from the kitchen in
the same direction Gilly had taken. Emerging into the yard, they were
immediately confronted by Sir Spencer. Having been summoned by the terrified
young girl, the man was fully prepared to do battle. Micheline pushed the twins
in his direction.

"My lord, save
us!" she cried. "Johanne has gone mad!"

Spencer recognized the
twins, assuming that the frantic woman behind them was none other than Lady
Micheline. He charged forward, placing himself between the terrified ladies and
the open kitchen door.

"Where is
she?"

Micheline and the twins
were huddled by the tunnel entrance, trembling with fright. Robert, Gilly and
Fiona joined them, creating a fearful flock.

"Inside,"
Micheline gasped. "She stabbed Edmund and I fear she comes for us!"

Sword raised
defensively, Spencer turned to the darkened doorway. It was difficult to see
anything but he could hear faint whimpers emitting from inside. Moving slightly
to gain a better look, he kept his weapon leveled in front on him.

A long metal spit
suddenly came hurling out of the darkness, striking Spencer' sword. He grunted
with surprise as the weapon went flying, taking a step back as Johanne emerged
from the kitchens. She collected the spit from the ground before the knight
could reach it and Spencer raised his armored forearm in time to fend off two
heavy blows.

Taking another step
back, he slipped on a pile of animal dung and nearly lost his balance. Howling
like a fiend, Johanne took the opportunity to thrust the spit at his groin and Spencer
could no longer deny the fact that his life was in serious jeopardy.  The woman
was determined to kill him and he was equally determined to defend himself. But
he needed his weapon.

It was several feet
away. Robert, seeing that Spencer was in trouble, broke from the frightened
cluster of women and children, hurling himself toward the steel blade. Losing
his footing, he ended up on his buttocks, spinning wildly through the mud. But
the slick motion deposited him next to broadsword and he grabbed the thing, using
all of his strength to toss it in Spencer' direction.

"Sir Knight!"
he shouted. "Your weapon!"

Spencer' hand was up,
catching the clumsy toss. Instantly, he lifted his sword in the path of the
screaming lady, knowing that very shortly it would be life or death for one of
them. Johanne jabbed the spear again, this time at his neck, and Spencer had no
choice but to respond. Without regrets, he deftly parried her thrust and drove
his broadsword deep into her fragile chest. Gasping and twisting, Johanne fell
to the ground in a dying heap of blood and foam.

Spencer stood over the
woman as she cursed him soundly and breathed her last. Raising his visor with a
shaking hand, he turned to the huddle of women and children behind him.

"God's Blood,"
he exhaled slowly. "
What in the hell has happened here?"

Micheline stared at Johanne's
contorted form, her eyes wide with shock. After a moment, she released Valdine
and made her way, however hesitantly, toward Sir Spencer.

"She... she went
mad, my lord," she breathed, still too fearful to draw any closer to Johanne's
corpse as if it would rise up and attack her. "She killed her brother in a
rage when she learned that Kirk loved my sister."

Spencer' pale eyes
stared at Micheline a moment before passing a long glance at the lady he had
killed in self-defense. He simply shook his head.

"I did not want to
kill her but she gave me no choice," he said hoarsely. "I fear she
would have killed us all."

Micheline nodded firmly,
pulling the scarf away from her head. Soft brown hair tumbled down her back as
she stared at the dead woman, hardly daring to believe that it was over. The
madness, the fear, the torture; with the swift stroke of a broadsword, the
conclusion had not been pleasant, but it had been swift. And she wasn't sorry in
the least.

"I realize
that," she said quietly. "You were simply protecting us, Sir Spencer,
and I am ever grateful."

Spencer couldn't decide
if he was disturbed over what had happen more than he was satisfied. He had
killed a woman, which went against everything he believed in. But given The
Darkland's reputation, he suspected he had done a great service to many. And
paid vengeance for others.

He turned to Micheline,
noticing in a softer, more average way that she resembled her sister. In fact,
he thought her to be rather pretty.

"And you, my
lady?" His baritone was soft. "Are you well?"

Micheline nodded.
"Well enough. Better still now that Johanne and Edmund have been sent
where they belong - to the bowels of hell to pay for their horrible sins."

Spencer did not know
what else to say. Around them, the occupants of the kitchen yard emerged from
their hiding places, daring to come forward to see what had become of their mad
mistress. She was dead, as was her brother, disemboweled on the floor of the
great kitchen. Though it was wicked to think of celebrating such an event,
Micheline realized she was considering that very thing.

Spencer thought he
caught a glimpse of a very relieved smile.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The funeral for Kirk's
parents had been short, to the point. A lass from the kitchens of Wicklow sang
a sorrowful Irish folk ballad, driving Steven to tears as the grave was filled.
Ryan Connaught was buried holding his wife, the two of them wrapped in the
linens from their wedding bed.

Somberly, the small
collection of mourners made their way back to the Castle, the walls slowly
rebuilt by a workforce of soldiers and peasants. Kirk had personally screened
every one of the Irish peasants before allowing them to repair his beloved
Wicklow. Convinced there were no spies or rebels among them, he was satisfied
with the progress.

Niles and Albert had
already been sent home on one of the de Cleveley boats. With all of the chaos
finally quieted and a sense of order taking hold, Kirk had time to reflect on
Niles' death and realized he missed his friend a great deal. But he still had
Corwin, a fine fighter and companion, and he comforted himself in the fact that
he had not lost the both of them. One, most certainly, was enough.

Corwin, too, seemed
particularly pensive over Niles' death. But he had been unusually quiet since
setting sail for Ireland, going about his duties with silent efficiency, though
Kirk had not lingered on the man's subdued mood. Mayhap it was the gloom of
leaving his wife, or the distaste of battle altogether. For whatever the
reason, he was unconcerned when Corwin wandered up to him after supper on the
night of his parent's burial.

The moon was full, the
landscape ghostly silent. Kirk glanced at Corwin as the man came to rest beside
him on the battlements, exchanging a few pleasantries before slipping into
silence. As his eyes swept the countryside and keep, Kirk happened to pass a
glance at Corwin and noticed the man was sweating profusely.

"Corwin?" he
asked. "Are you well, man?"

Corwin seemed to be
shaking. "Why... why do you ask, Kirk?"

"Because you're
soaked with perspiration. Are you feeling ill?"

Corwin coughed
nervously, the trembling in his body growing more evident. Kirk's brow furrowed
with concern.

"If you are ill,
then mayhap you should rest. Steven can give up his bed for one night. In fact,
you have not seemed well since we arrived in Ireland. Is something the
matter?"

Corwin closed his eyes
as Kirk spoke, bowing his head as if to block out the question. Before Kirk was
finished speaking, he made a strange choking sound and fell back against the
stone parapet.

"Oh, God…
Kirk
!"

Kirk was gravely
concerned. He grasped Corwin by the arms to steady him. "Corwin, what's
the matter?"

Corwin's brown eyes
gushed over with tears. His gaze, wide and frantic, met Kirk. "I cannot...
I cannot go on like this any longer! It is killing me!"

"What is?"
Kirk demanded softly. In truth, he was a little frightened. "What is
killing you, Corwin?"

Corwin suddenly grabbed
him, holding his arms so tightly that Kirk lost feeling where the fingers bit
into his flesh. "This... silence." He gasped as if it had taken all
of his strength to spit it out. "I have been silent for too long and the
torment is killing me!"

Kirk tried to remain
calm, to make some sense out of what Corwin was trying to say. "I do not
understand, Corwin. What silence?"

Corwin drew in a ragged
breath, sagging as Kirk held him steady. The auburn head hung slack, lolling
from side to side as if losing all control.

"This silence I
have carried with me for years," he whispered. "Silence that has
eaten away at me, a dark silence that you can hardly comprehend. But I cannot
be silent any longer! You must know what is happening!"

Kirk's composure was slowly
slipping. "Then tell me, Corwin. What is happening?"

Corwin's head drooped
again and he stared at the ground. Finally, he swallowed hard in an attempt to
regain his composure. He would need all of his strength to get through this.
"Dear God, Kirk, you must forgive me."

"For what?"

"For not being
truthful with you. For not telling you what I knew, for not helping you prevent
the deaths of nine innocent women."

Kirk stared at him, the
flicker of disquiet in his soul bursting into a roaring blaze. "Then be
truthful with me now. What do you know?"

Corwin lifted
pain-filled eyes. "I know that Edmund ordered me to help him murder those
women. He threatened to kill Valdine if I did not help him. He gave me little
choice but to keep his dirty secrets."

Kirk drew in a long,
steadying breath. "I see," he murmured. The truth as he had always
suspected. "Then it was you helping him all along. But the rumors pointed
to Niles."

"Edmund started
those rumors to take suspicion off me. He knew you suspected that one of us was
aiding him and he wanted you to believe it was Niles."

"Because he had
leverage against you," Kirk finished softly. "And you did what you
felt you had to do in order to keep your wife safe."

Corwin nodded miserably.
"I hated myself for being so weak, Kirk. But I had no choice. Edmund gave
me no choice!"

Kirk released the man,
allowing him to bump softly against the parapet. "I understand what you
are saying, lad. But I do not understand why you have chosen this particular
moment to confess."

Corwin seemed to pale
further, if such a thing was possible. "It... it involves
Micheline...."

Kirk grabbed him again,
so hard that Corwin yelped with pain. Stone-gray eyes blazed at him. "What
of Micheline? You haven't...?"

"Nay." Corwin
shook his head quickly. "But Edmund wanted to. He ordered me to kill her,
but I couldn't. Instead, I locked her in the tower where she remains to this
day. I was hoping you would return from Quernmore in time to take charge of the
situation, but instead we were routed to Ireland sooner than expected."

Kirk emitted a harsh
sigh, his volatile emotions surging. "Damn you, Corwin! Has she been
harmed?"

"Nay."

"What does Edmund
know of her death?"

"Only that she is
dead. That I disposed of the body, as we have disposed of all the rest."

Kirk released him,
roughly, and the knight stumbled back against the stone abutment. But what
terrified him the most was the fact that he wasn't finished yet.

"There's more,
Kirk."

Kirk was chewing his lip
with agitation. "Christ, what more could there possibly be?"

Corwin swallowed. "Edmund
promised to kill Valdine if I told you."

Kirk stopped chewing his
lip. He did not like the look in Corwin's eye. "Tell me
what?
"

Corwin's trembling
increased. In fact, he was nearly cowering. "But Valdine...."

Kirk took a step toward
him. "I shall kill her myself if you do not tell me what more there
is."

Corwin shrank, averting
his gaze. When the mortal blow came, he did not want to see it. "It has to
do with his plans for Mara."

As he feared, Kirk went
mad. He grabbed the knight, throwing him to the pathway of the battlement. His
hands around the man's neck, he half-shoved him over the edge of the narrow
walkway, a two-story drop to the ground below. Corwin gasped with terror, but
his fear was nothing compared to the look of murder in Kirk's eyes.

"Tell me!"
Kirk roared.

"Edmund sent a
missive to le Vay proposing a marriage with Mara!" he rattled off.
"You carried the missive with you when you went to solicit his
support!"

Kirk's mouth went slack,
his eyes wide with shock. But the hands remained around Corwin's neck, nearly
strangling him.

"A missive?"
His eyes closed as realization swept him and he turned away, releasing the
knight. "My dear God… the second missive I knew nothing about. A marriage
proposal, did you say?"

"Aye."

Kirk could hardly speak.
"And I carried it right to him.
Right to him!"

Corwin scooted away from
the ledge, rubbing his sore neck. "Edmund wanted to be rid of Mara because
he felt she was a threat to the stability of his Anchorsholme. You had turned
against him because of her and Edmund simply wanted to be rid of her."

"Then why did not
he kill her like the rest?"

Corwin seemed to be
calming now that he had confessed everything. "It was really Johanne who
wanted them dead, Kirk. Edmund simply carried out her wishes. And Johanne
wanted them dead because they had shown interest in you. And you, as we all
know, belong to her."

"That does not
answer my question. Why did not he kill her?"

Corwin looked away.
"Because Johanne was so focused on Micheline's arrival that she failed to
notice the relationship developing between you and Mara. Edmund did not want
her to know, and he did not want to risk your wrath by harming the girl, so he
chose to send her away. I think the truth of the matter was that he couldn't
bear to harm her because she was so lovely."

"So he sent her to
le Vay?"

Corwin nodded slowly.
"You played right into his plans when you asked that she accompany you to Quernmore.
Edmund was going to ask you to take her to Quernmore to show off to the old
man, but you beat him to it. Once she was married to le Vay, there would be
nothing you could do. You would be forced to forget about her, Anchorsholme
would return to normal, and the entire episode would be a distant memory."

Kirk fell back against
the parapet, his face glazed with shock. "This is such madness I have
difficulty believing it." He turned to the somber knight. "Why,
Corwin? Why did you wait until now to tell me all of this?"

Corwin sat dejectedly at
the edge of the walkway. "Fear," he said hoarsely. "Fear for
Valdine. But I simply cannot sit by while Mara marries another man, or
Micheline remains a prisoner. It has to end; all of it. You
must
know."

"Do you still fear
for Valdine?"

Corwin shrugged. "I
will trust that you will not permit anything to happen to her. Considering you
will be returning to England to stop the wedding between Mara and le Vay, I
would hope you would take the time to protect my wife from the wrath of our
liege."

Kirk pushed himself off
the wall. Already, he was moving for the ladder that descended to the bailey.
Rising on unsteady legs, Corwin followed.

"Where are you
going?"

Kirk did not glance up
as he lowered himself on the ladder. "To England."

"Tonight?"

"This very
moment."

Corwin watched Kirk as he
dropped to the dirt of the bailey, marching toward the darkened keep of Wicklow
like a man with a demon on his heels.

"Godspeed,
Kirk." He felt sick inside. Sick and full of sadness. "I sincerely
hope you are in time."

And time was running
out.