The Shades of Time (43 page)

Imperiously he
walked to the door and raised a fist as if to pound on the wood,
only to have a guard move between him and the reinforced door.

The man barked,
"Hold."

Nico heard a
sword being unsheathed behind him. To the man blocking his path he
growled, "Do you know who I am?"

The guard
nodded and gave a quick glance to his henchman. The Duke's men were
not known for being simple-minded. It wouldn't take long for them
to err on the side of their orders which were to protect the Duke's
privacy at all costs.

He kept his
left hand at his side, the stiletto palmed with the blade shielded
by the sleeve of his tunic.

"I was told my
brother visits the Duke." He waved his right hand in the direction
of the stairwell. "I was directed to this location."

The guard
grunted but refused to move. He stared up at Nico suspiciously.

"I have a
matter of some urgency to discuss with my brother." He pressed
close to the man, towering over him, using his size to intimidate
him into moving. It didn't work. He felt the prick of a blade
against the back of his neck.

The man in
front of him grinned and said, "The Duke does not wish to be
disturbed."

Nico raised his
right hand and backed away, the point of the sword still knicking
at his flesh. He muttered, "Well then," and allowed the hilt to
slip across his palm. "When you see my brother, will you give him a
message—?"

Dropping to a
knee, he flipped the stiletto to his right hand and rammed it down
through the guard's instep, then rolled, narrowly avoiding the
broadsword arcing past his shoulder blade. Continuing the roll, he
came to an abrupt stop against the wall, his knee impacting the
cold stone with a painful crack.

The din in his
head threatened to disorient him, the distraction of men shouting
an alarm, racing feet, screams of panic, the fierce stab of pain,
blood trickling in warm rivulets. Bracing against the wall, he
pushed himself upright and drew his sword.

The one guard
bellowed his distress. The other advanced with a look of
anticipation, the promise of sport overriding what should have been
caution.

Nico shut down
the competing sensations and focused on the man circling to his
left, effectively splitting his attention between the cursing guard
struggling to extract the blade from his foot and the unwieldy
weapon pointed at his throat.

Unlike Tonio, he could not take control, could not shut down
the mind of an opponent, but he
could
use their thoughts to anticipate
next moves. For that he needed clarity, not the cacophony of
sensations swamping him. On instinct he dodged to the right barely
avoiding the metal connecting with stone, showering the dimly lit
area with sparks.

Damn it. That
was close.

He was boxed
between the two guards with little room for maneuvering and in the
recesses of his mind he knew more would join them shortly. He
needed to end this now.

****

Andreas pressed
an ear to the opening but the heavy tapestry muffled sound from the
two men situated at the end of the room farthest from his location.
From what he could hear, it was not a pleasant conversation.
Risking detection he moved the material away from the wall and
peered into darkness.

Extending his
senses he detected a large device partially blocking the opening.
If he were lucky he could shelter behind the object until
opportunity presented itself. Wriggling through the gap he crawled
to the right and crouched, fighting to keep his breathing under
control. Whimpering off to his left nearly drove him insane.
Veluria was awake … and in pain.

Did he dare
attempt penetration into her fractured psyche? The urge to sooth
her fears—to ease the agony—was almost too much to resist, yet he
knew in his gut that was an unacceptable risk. She could interpret
his invasion of her core as yet more torture and alert the Duke and
Stefano to his presence with damning words.

The Duke spoke in his native tongue but Stefano answered,
"Yes, that is
my work
as you put it." His voice held a strange mix of pride and
regret.

"Most
impressive, my boy." There was a shuffling noise followed by a
strangled moan. It sounded like the Duke had gagged Veluria to keep
her from crying out.

What in God's
name did the madman plan to do?

"They are
lovely, are they not?" Stefano grunted non-committally. "These are
banned, you know. Pity. I find them oddly … arousing." He laughed,
the tone pitched high like a girl's giggle.

Andreas
shivered. He suspected the Duke was planning to adorn Veluria's
body with illicit piercings, something that even in his day was
viewed with distaste and carefully regulated. Such ornamentation in
the brotherhood was anathema to their vows of austerity. He had no
objections one way or the other if one of his brethren chose to
flaunt themselves in that manner. But he did object to wanton
disfigurement of the work of art that was Veluria.

Muted sounds of
scuffling and shouting pierced the air. Andreas stood and peered
around the edge of the device, the size of a small wardrobe, just
large enough to contain … a body. His gut clenched at the thought.
He couldn't see Veluria but the Duke and Stefano were in his line
of sight, both men glancing at the door with curiosity.

The Duke kept
his eyes trained on the door but said to Stefano, "So you brought
your friends."

"Friends…?"

"Do you think
me a fool, boy? Your brother, your former mistress. An armed
escort. This bears your meddling father's touch." The man stalked
toward Stefano, driving the young man toward the far wall.

Stepping
awkwardly away, Stefano drew his blade, his face set in a grim line
as the Duke advanced, sword in hand, thrusting with controlled,
precise movements. Flicking his wrist with practiced ease, the
older man scored first blood, the slice shallow along the young
man's ribcage.

Stefano hissed
a breath and rolled his shoulder, shaking off the sting. Blood
blossomed on his tunic, a thin red line. He continued to retreat
under the Duke's unrelenting attack, the echo of steel-on-steel
reverberating throughout the room, punctuated by the more distant
clash of weapons beyond the thick walls.

Stefano tripped
and stumbled, unable to find his footing amidst the clutter of
instruments and devices littering the room. Only youth and
quickness saved him from being skewered against a wooden platform,
though his opponent connected with a deep gash to his sword arm,
severe enough that Andreas feared the young man's arm had been
rendered useless.

Friedrich
surveyed the damage and chuckled, "Cosimo should know better than
to send a boy to do a man's job."

Andreas could
do little more than watch. His instincts told him to free Veluria
while the combatants were engaged, yet they remained too close to
wherever the Duke had secured her—probably strapped to a platform
of some type. If he exposed his presence, the Duke would surely lop
his head off in one fell swoop. Dead he did none of them any
good.

The war beyond
the walls ebbed and flowed with no end in sight. At least the boy's
older brother had sufficient skills to keep the guard occupied and
ignorant of the drama unfolding in the room—not that the Duke
required assistance.

Andreas cared little if Friedrich dispatched the boy—he was
willing to delegate
that
responsibility to one far more skilled than he.
However, in that event, that left him and Veluria at the Duke's
tender mercies. That outcome was not one he wished to
contemplate.

He needed to
get to the door, unbolt it and allow Nico access. Without his help,
all was lost.

Bare feet
slapping the packed dirt floor, he bolted toward the door only to
be brought up short at the vision of Veluria strapped to a table,
her body in obscene display as she twisted weakly against leather
bonds slicing through tender flesh. Fascinated he watched blood
pool and dribble off the table to fall with desultory ease onto the
floor, the reddish-brown stain instantly absorbed.

Eyes wild with
panic, she followed the two men sparring just within her field of
vision, mouth grimly wrapped about the gag. He backed toward the
door, willing her to see him, to know he was there. Turning to be
sure he was headed in the right direction, he lost sight of her
momentarily. When he turned back, he found her staring at him, the
recognition lining her face with hope.

When she opened
to him he nearly lost himself in the sensuous caress of all that
she was. Precious moments passed as he sought to reassure her but
she turned away to watch the Duke toying with her former lover.

Stefano
struggled gallantly but the Duke would soon tire of the game and
dispatch the young man, either killing him outright or disabling
him enough that he would provide additional entertainments
later.

The evil of the
man's essence poured off him in waves. Andreas had never believed
in a devil … or hell.

Until now.

Racing to the
barricade, he threw the bolts and yanked the heavy door open to a
world awash in carnage such as he'd never dreamt possible.

****

Staggering to
the right, Nico yanked his stiletto from the guard's foot and
shoved him out of the way. Tensing, he sensed the air shift and
dropped his shoulder as he launched his body against the swordsman,
burying the stiletto to the hilt in the man's gut. Though not a
killing blow, it dropped the man in his tracks. Hands sticky with
blood he grappled with the sword and swung it in a high arc—the
sharp edge making a clean slice. Grimacing as the metal impacted
hard stone, he gasped and steadied himself for the next wave.

As he
suspected, the guards from the stairwell had come to see what the
fracas was about. With little room to maneuver, and the stone
slippery with blood and other bodily fluids, he was hemmed in and
outmanned.

More shouts,
the clash of swords…

Nico weighed
his options. The newest arrivals moved cautiously but steadily on
his position. With his back to the wall, he had no place left to
go. Injured, bleeding copiously from wounds to his torso and thigh,
he was no match for fresh troops. If he surrendered, he could live
to another day, perhaps barter his freedom in exchange for
concessions from his father.

But I'm not the
only one to consider. If I surrender that still leaves Veluria in
the hands of a pervert. I am worth a ransom but she has no value
other than a plaything.

Hands
trembling, Nico lowered the heavy sword and bowed his head in a
posture of surrender. He edged toward the door, stepping over the
prone form of the decapitated guard, keeping his mind blank as he
booted the head away to roll past his newest antagonists.

Flicking his
eyes from one to the other, he waited for them to make their move.
In the distance, echoes of more fighting gave him a frisson of hope
that his men might be advancing to his position. He need only hold
these two off long enough.

A flash of
steel to his left, the trajectory froze in his peripheral vision,
offering a choice. He swiveled to take the blow on his shoulder
blade, using the downward turn to hack through the gauntlet
protecting his opponent's wrist to his right. Sword and severed
hand fell away as he reeled from the ice penetrating the muscles of
his back.

More men poured
into the hallway, some advancing with weapons raised, others
backing in, the clatter too loud in the confined space to make
sense of who fought whom. Paulo had brought the battle to him.

Inside and
outside the walls, all he detected was anger, panic, and senseless
death. He needed to get inside but he was rapidly losing his
strength.

A blow knocked
him against the barricade, setting his head ablaze with pain.
Something gripped his jerkin and yanked him backwards.

Nico fell
through the open door and landed on the dirt floor in a daze.

****

Andreas hissed,
"Get up. Get up, damn you!"

The man was a
dead weight as he tried to haul him to his feet. Once upright he
staggered drunkenly using Andreas' body to hold himself steady.

"Can you fight,
man?"

Nico nodded
wearily but Andreas wasn't sure he had enough left to handle a
skilled swordsman like Friedrich. Grunting, he spun Nico's huge
form around and said, "She's alive but not for long."

The room
settled into a profound silence, not even the racket from the
battle outside the walls seemed to penetrate the barrier of evil
cocooning the scene playing out before their eyes.

Friedrich held
a blade to Veluria's throat, the whisper of a thin slice across her
windpipe leaving a fresh trail of blood to trickle in meandering
streams across pale flesh. The hands holding the blade were
obscenely delicate, long-fingered and elegant. The Duke placed a
hand on her blue-black hair and stroked the tangled strands,
quieting her frantic motion as her eyes took in the tableau:
Andreas propping her injured lover, the man's sword hanging
uselessly at his side, the Duke to her right, looming, enjoying the
moment.

Stefano lay in
a crumpled heap behind the Duke, his life force pooling darkly
under his torso. There was no indication that the boy lived or
died. At that moment it mattered little.

Nico visibly
relaxed, his senses opening to Andreas.

Remove the
bonds. You must get her out of here.

But…

My men are
outside. They will see you to your destination.

I cannot take
her with me.