The Sword and the Sylph (Elemental Series) (19 page)

“I serve Calila
now that I am married to you, Portia. And I would do what I must to save the castle and its people in honor of your father. But if there was any way I could stop this senseless battle and the many deaths that are destined to transpire, you know that I would.”

“
You
may not be able to stop it,” said Portia getting to her feet, but mayhap, husband, there is something
I
can do to stop this war.”

Chapter 21

The troops from Banesmoor hit them hard, and Braden knew he had to take action quickly. While he had sworn his allegiance to Lord Solomon and promised he’d be his ally inside the castle walls, he had not known at the time he’d be married to Portia and also the new lord of Calila.

“Klarens, attack,” shouted Lord Muir, gathering his men and giving forth the order to exit the castle and meet Lord Solomon’s men on the field. “Son, are
you coming with?”

Braden felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, never thinking being a lord would now put him in such a position. But he had to protect Calila and its occupants and push any other feelings aside.

“We need to defend, not attack,” he told his father. “Call your men back inside the castle walls, I want to close the drawbridge and bar the door.”

“You coward! You say you are a Klaren but no Klaren would ever hide from the enemy.”

“I am not hiding, I am trying to protect my people and hold onto my castle,” he told him.

“Your castle? This place is small and isolated with no good lands for crops or roads for trade. Come with us and we’ll not only slaughter Solomon and his men but seize Banesmoor as our own.”

“I have no interest in Banesmoor,” he told him.

“You should.
’Tis twice the size of Calila and twice as prosperous as well.”

“Then we’ll have both Calila and Banesmoor
in the end,” Braden told him. “You take the Klarens and I’ll keep my men here to protect these holdings. We would both win in the process.”

“You are deceiving me, Braden, aren’t you? You never were good at lying even at the age of five.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Show me your arm.”

Before he’d had the chance to do so, his father grabbed his arm and pulled up his sleeve, exposing the brand that marked him as a Klaren.

“You are healed already. That witch used her kiss on you, didn’t she?”

“She is not a witch and don’t call her that again.”

People screamed and ran through the
courtyard as chaos broke loose at the announcement that they were about to be attacked. Soldiers rushed around readying their weapons, the look of fear as well as malice that comes from going to battle washed across their faces. Braden didn’t like any of this at all, and wanted so badly to change the circumstances as well as the outcome.

“If you don’t come with me and the Klarens, I would strike you down right here and now. And don’t think that once you’re gone I won’t come for your wife, because I would.”

Braden had enough of his father’s threats and pulled his sword and in one motion held it to his father’s throat.

“Aye, I am a bad liar,” he admitted
. “And I would hide the fact no longer that I want naught more than to slit your throat right now, and don’t think for a moment that I won’t do it.”

His father laughed, unsettling Braden
even more. His anger ripped through him and he kicked the man to the ground.

“All right
already. I see you have the temper needed to be a successful Klaren,” he said. “Now let’s make amends as we have a battle to win.” He held his hand out for Braden, but he would not take it.

“Get your sorry ass out of my sight before I run my blade
right through your heart. And if you think I’d ever really join forces with you or the Klarens, than you are a bigger fool than I thought. I am only sorry that I even started his whole deception in the first place.”

Shouts went up from the battlement and the bell clanged furiously from atop the steeple of the chapel.
The villeins rushed in over the drawbridge herding their sheep and cows inside and carrying chickens by their feet. If they were to be holed up in the castle for any length of time during this battle they would need the animals for food. The soldiers hurried them into the courtyard, shouting orders. Babies cradled in the bosoms of their mothers cried wildly and little children ran behind them screaming. Braden could not bear the thought that every one of them may die today in this battle. Many innocent lives would be lost and he could do naught about it.

“This is not over, son, so don’t think that it is. I have a score to settle with you and I would not stop until I’ve won.”

His father turned and called to the Klarens, and the troops took off over the drawbridge and out the gate, ready to meet with Lord Solomon’s men head on.

“Raise the drawbridge and lower the gate,” Braden called out to his men. “The Klarens are no longer
welcome in Calila. Archers get up to the battlements quickly. Men, defend your positions and protect the women and children. Women watch your children and keep them out of the soldiers’ way. And help to prepare ministrations as this is going to be a bloody battle.”

He then looked down to his chest, ripping the
Klaren’s surcoat from his body. He’d not fight with his father’s wretched crest upon him. Then he looked down to the etching on his arm and cursed himself for ever allowing his father to do this in the first place. He wanted naught to do with the Klarens or his father ever again. And he had half a mind to cut off his own arm in order to rid himself of the etching that made him look just like his father.

* * *

Portia stood atop the battlements, arms raised to the sky as she called upon the forces of nature to come to their aid.

“Forces
of the air, stop the battle with your weapons that impale . . . send warriors a message from the sky in the form of hail.”

Immediately
hard large pellets of ice pelted down upon the warriors now fighting just outside the barbican. She’d shielded the castle from the element in order to give them the advantage, hopefully slowing down the men who were just outside her door.

She could see the Klarens meeting the soldiers o
f Banesmoor head on. The hail crashed down upon them, and they raised their shields, the ice bouncing off the wood and metal used for protection. She didn’t really want to harm any of Lord Solomon’s men, but she hadn’t a choice, as they were the ones attacking her castle and she had to do this for her father and his people.

She heard another shout and looked to the south side of the castle just below her, surprised to see that some of the attackers had broken through the outer curtain wall
. They now had tall wooden ladders against the side of the building as they planned on entering her fortress that way now, during the distraction of the battle out front. Her own men hurriedly brought forth the forked poles that were used during battle to push the attackers ladders away from their walls.

She sliced her hand through the air, calling out once again to the element that she controlled. “Air above me and below, stop these men from entering with one mighty blow.”

A huge gust of wind blew back the ladders and knocked the men to the ground. Her soldiers shouted out in elation upon seeing nature coming to their aid.

Then she looked down into her own courtyard, seeing in the distance the countess in the shado
ws, dagger raised and coming up behind Braden who was busy instructing his men and did not notice.

“Braden,” she called to him, but there was much noise from the battle and he could not hear her. She watched as her stepmother raised the blade and aimed it toward the back of his heart.

“Nay!” She held up her hand and with great force the countess flew backward, slamming against the side of the well, and falling to a heap on the ground.

Portia hurried down the stairs of the battlement, headed toward the well. She stopped suddenly when she got there. Braden had gone to help his men and no one – not even the countess was there. Puzzled, she turned around, only to be hit in
the side by a wooden mallet.

She fell
onto the edge of the well, hitting her head on the stone in the process. The countess now hovered over her with the weapon still in her hand.

“I should throw you in that well the same I did your mother
,” she threatened.

Stunned from the blow, Po
rtia felt dazed and weak. Her head pounded and felt as if it would split right open. But the words she was hearing angered her enough to forget her pain for the moment.

“You killed my mother?” she asked,
shocked and appalled by the woman’s proclamation.

“Indeed I did,” the countess
admitted, satisfaction dripping from her voice. “And I covered the well and said the water was foul so no one could hear her screams for help.”

“How could you?” She knew now how Braden must feel toward his father, because she was feeling the sa
me hatred right now for her stepmother. Her own anger threatened to choke her as she held back the emotions that were washing over her and trying to consume her. She needed to keep her wits about her so she refused to cry in front of the wicked woman. She’d naught give her the satisfaction to see just how her evil deed had affected her.

“And then I convi
nced your father to marry me. And that you - his little girl – the woman he never wanted to let grow up, needed a mother. The fool, he was too easy to control and never a good leader. He was weak and a man in his position needs to be strong. That’s why I took control, because he was unable to do it.”

“My father was a brave warrior and the fairest and most
honorable lord of all.”

“If that were true, he wouldn’t be dead right now
, would he? The man was weak, not a warrior at all, just admit it.”

She raised her hand to call on the wind, but before she could
do so, the countess swung the mallet at her with all her force. Portia used her hands to block the blow, being pushed backward, stumbling and falling, hitting her head against the ground. The last thing she remembered was hearing her stepmother’s wicked laughter. Then feeling a cloth being thrown over her head as darkness closed in all around her and the sound of the battle ringing through her ears became naught more than a whisper as she drifted away to a much quieter place.

* * *

Portia got the sensation of choking – not being able to breath. Her lungs burned and her eyes popped open as she gasped for breath. She couldn’t move, as her body was half-sitting, half-standing in a small confinement under the ground. She looked up to see the countess looking down at her, the night sky falling fast but still light enough to light up her face so Portia could see the person responsible for putting her here.

“This is better than the well,” snarled the woman. “’Tis called an oubliette, my dear.
I know how much you fear being underground, and I thought this would be a fitting death for you. I am sorry but I cannot allow you and your lover to rule my castle.”

She dragged
the metal grate over the top of the hole and dropped it into place. Portia felt her energy draining already. Her body ached everywhere and the dense air underground hung heavy in her lungs. She couldn’t breathe and panicked and tried to reach up and claw at the stone walls around her to climb out, but couldn’t move.

She knew exactly where she was. This was the
oubliette just as the countess had said. ’Twas a narrow, deep hole in the ground lined with stone, used as a dungeon for the vilest of prisoners whom they wanted to keep separate from the rest. It had only an overhead opening and no other means of exit. ’Twas used at one time to punish prisoners, as they were left here until they died. She’d convinced her father to never use it, and it had been covered over and hidden with vines for years now. She had almost forgotten it even existed as it was in the back of the castle near where the chutes of the garderobes emptied the human waste to the ground. No one ever went back here, save the gongfarmer who’d come to clean the waste and filth once a sennight.

“Good bye
, my dear. Say hello to your father for me.” The countess may have thought she’d won, but Portia was determined not to make it so.

She
used every last bit of her energy to try to call to the wind for help. And just when she thought her element was not going to come to her aid, she looked up to see a stray arrow drifting through the sky, embedding itself into the back of the countess, right through the heart. The woman’s laughing face suddenly turned sullen.

She gasped, eyes opening wide and
her body dropped atop the grate that was covering the opening of the oubliette. She didn’t feel good about using her power of the air to kill anyone, but this woman was evil and had killed her mother. She had to do it for her mother’s sake, and now justice was served.

Her eyes closed as she drifted in and out
of consciousness, the countess’s body blocking what little air could even make it down the shaft. She didn’t want to die here, all alone. She wanted to help Braden save her father’s castle and her people. She wanted also to live a happy life as Braden’s wife. But she knew she’d never have that enjoyment in this lifetime. They were in the midst of a battle and she was hidden, blocked by the body of the woman who had taken her mother’s life. No one would ever think of looking for her here. And even when they’d finally retrieve the countess’s dead body after the battle and possibly find her, by then it would be too late. Being trapped in the earth with no air around her was her weakness. ’Twas the one element that could drain her of the element most needed in order for her to sustain life.