7
"This is a suicide mission."
Glen sighed and looked up. "You think I do not know what I am doing?"
"Of course you know, sire. But your men are perfectly capable of…"
"No." Glen's tone was final. His men could not storm Dimitri's castle without a distraction from him. Besides that, he was not the type to sit idly by and let others do his dirty work. "Are they ready?" Glen asked, pulling on his gloves. The night had come on cold, as if often did. If his brother had strange dreams, it would snow, be it winter or summer. Mark did not use his magic regularly, and was not aware he was causing weather in his sleep.
"They await your orders, sire." Paul still sounded reluctant. Glen clapped him on the shoulder.
"Do not worry. In and out, just as we discussed." With that he led the way to the horses.
They'd made camp a mile from Dimitri's castle. Dimitri of course had no clue they were there. He had been redirected to the west with rumors of a raid on his small village of followers.
Which meant, if all went as planned, that the castle was empty save a handful of guards.
Glen stopped his horse and looked over his men. His twenty best knights, for want of a better word. That was all they needed…and probably more than they needed for this job. But it was a small way of soothing Paul's worried mind. They knew that Glen would provide a distraction-what they did not know was that Glen intended on torching the entire castle.
"I want you all out five minutes after we break the cells." Glen said, loud enough for the men to hear. There were nods. Glen looked individually at each man. "Let's go." He turned his horse and led the way through the dark forest.
Half an hour later they caught sight of the castle through a break in the trees. They also saw a lone figure silhouetted against the woods. Glen smiled and held up a hand, bidding his followers to halt. He swung off the horse and made his way on foot to the man standing in shadows.
"Michael." Glen took the man's hand and shook it. He and Michael had been friends since childhood, and was the only one Glen trusted to infiltrate Dimitri's castle. It had not taken him long to earn the trust of the evil wizard. "Once again, you have done me proud."
"That is my job, sire." Michael smiled but Glen detected a troubled tone to his voice.
"What bothers you? Has our plan been discovered?" It was his immediate worry. Twenty men was too many, but if they had been found out, twenty men would not nearly be enough.
"Oh. No, sire. Of course not." Michael shook his head. "Tavia took it upon herself to add a witch to your burden."
Glen sighed. "She wants to save the world."
"This time…" Michael paused, gathering his thoughts. "I saw her myself. She appeared out of thin air. I thought it was some kind of trick. No one here is powerful enough to use that kind of transport magic."
Glen's curiosity was peaked. "She wishes to leave this place?" He asked, gesturing at the castle.
"From all indications, yes." Michael's voice held a sadness that hurt Glen's heart to hear. "Dimitri has been at her once already."
"Bastard." Glen hissed out and clenched his hands into fists.
"Only a beating. Although it was…very bad." Michael finished helplessly, not know the right words. "He plans more for her tomorrow. And I think you know what 'more' it is he has set his mind on. She is a beauty. He will want to have her, even if she is nothing but a fake. Tavia tended to her back, told her you planned a rescue."
"Well, she is coming whether she wants to or not." Glen stated, anger biting at every word. He would not have another one on his conscience. Not again. The last girl who had defied Dimitri was beaten, raped, tortured, her body left near Glen's castle to be found by the guards. She had been just fourteen years old, a normal, no power of any kind in her family.
"Cell two." Michael said with a smirk. He had known what Glen's reaction would be. Most prisoners were left in cells to go slowly mad. If Dimitri had already taken an interest in this one, if he was already at the stage of physical punishment, then she was in grave danger.
"Whether she wants to or not." Glen repeated. Michael nodded and looked up at the sky.
"It is time. There will never be a better time than this."
"I know." Glen gripped his friend's shoulder. "Thank you, Michael."
"I have done nothing to deserve your gratitude, sire." Michael said softly. In truth, he had started to hate himself a bit, that he'd just stand by and watch some poor girl get beaten, to watch Dimitri starve other prisoners to death. He was relieved that the time had come for his king to take action. He was sure he could not take much more. With one last look at Glen, he turned and joined the men who were standing still, waiting.
Glen looked around. "Ready yourselves." The men nodded. Some pulled swords. Most just stood there, ready to go at his command.
Glen took a deep breath and turned to face the castle. He moved to the edge of the trees. The holding cells were to the east. Therefore he would start the festivities to the west. He looked in that direction and closed his eyes, muttering softly under his breath. For a moment, there was nothing. Then the men behind him gasped as a rumble shook the ground.
"Go!" Glen called, eyes opening. The men followed him as he led them toward the back gates of the castle. The guards who had been posted were not paying attention. They stood uncertainly, looking toward the back of the castle, toward where there was a lot of shouting and screaming. Michael reached the man on the left at the same time Paul caught the man on the right. They made short work of killing them, feeling no remorse. People loyal to Dimitri were evil, by the very nature of the man they hailed as their king.
Glen signaled his men and they rushed into the castle proper, making as much noise as they possibly could. It would fool any other guards into thinking there were more of his men that what they had in reality. He let Michael take the lead and followed him with a few of his men down several steep flights of steps.
The cells were in darkness. At night they only bothered with one flickering torch. With a curse, Glen held up his hand and every torch in the hallway sputtered into flames. "Open them all. Set them free!" He called to his men.
The guard on duty had apparently been napping. He gaped at the men charging the hall toward him, unable to think of what to do. Michael reached him first and slammed him into the wall. He jerked the keys to the cells from the man's belt and slammed him back again, this time rocking his head into the wall, knocking him unconscious.
Glen took the keys from Michael and set about opening the cells. There were twelve in all, only the first one empty. Two were reputed witches, plucked from whatever village Dimitri had invaded that week. Four were his own men, caught out during the last battle Glen's men had fought with Dimitri. Glen recognized one man as being a knight of Mark's, although how he had gotten tangled up with Dimitri was a mystery to him. The other cells were occupied by regular prisoners, people who Dimitri thought had wronged him in some way.
Glen reached the last cell, aware of the men around him shouting orders to each other, of the noise upstairs. He got the lock to turn and flung the door open. The first thing he saw was Tavia. She was putting more salve on the girl's back. The next thing he registered was the girl. She lay on her stomach on a cot, tears streaming down her face, her blonde hair fanned around her.
Tavia looked up at her king with a grim expression on her face. "Dimitri paid a visit."
Glen felt his stomach twist. Tavia shook her head at him.
"He wanted to see her back. Then he whacked her a few more times for good measure." Tavia spat out. Her hands resumed their gentle stroking of Ollie's skin. "I give the girl credit, she never made a sound. He got frustrated and stormed out when Michael brought news of the raid."
Glen said nothing. He took the two steps that separated him from the cot. He knelt down and brushed the golden hair back from the woman's face. She absently lifted a hand and brushed the tears from her skin. Glen gave her an encouraging smile. "Shall we leave?"
The woman nodded slowly. Glen rose to his feet and turned his back so she could get dressed. Tavia helped her, making soothing sounds in her throat the whole time.
"Sire!" Tavia's voice brought him away from the sounds in the hallway. Glen turned and saw the Tavia holding the woman up. "The pain, sire. She is not a weak one but the salve is not working yet."
Glen nodded and stepped forward, taking Ollie from Tavia's arms, lifting her effortlessly. He cradled her against his broad chest and looked to the other woman. "Go. Head east, the camp is a mile. Gather the men there and wait."
Tavia nodded and was off before Glen could do more than bark the order. He walked carefully out of the cell, glancing down at the woman in his arms. Her eyes were blinking as if she were coming out of a daze.
"Who…are you?" She muttered out. Glen smiled down at her and began climbing the stairs.
"Your rescuer. Hush now, I have you. No one is going to hurt you again." Glen soothed her, following his men to the exit. At the edge of the woods once more, he turned to face the castle, the girl still cradled in his arms.
"Shall I take her, sire?" Michael spoke from his side. Glen looked to his friend with a weary smile.
"She is a small burden for me to carry, my friend." He glanced down at the woman in question. Her head rested comfortably against his shoulder and her eyes were closed. She appeared to be asleep.
"We must go sire. There is no telling how far Dimitri's men are." Michael reminded him.
"Just one more minute, Michael." Glen turned his attention back to the castle. His eyes narrowed. He could feel the power flowing through him, roaring to be let out. The girl muttered against his neck, and his resolve doubled, tripled. The castle did not just burst into flames. The outer walls exploded inward with a deafening thud.
The men behind him all gasped or cried out at the destruction. They ducked and took cover as random bits of debris came sailing down from the sky. "Sire…" Michael's voice was awed.
"Sending a message, Michael. And I want that message to be perfectly clear." Glen shifted the woman in his arms, resettling her. "Let him wonder who caused this mess. Then we will deal with him on our terms, not his."
Michael nodded, stealing glimpses over his shoulder as the pile of rubble that used to be a castle burned in the night. No one could have survived an explosion like that. A grim smile lit his features. Dimitri deserved no less.
*~**~*
A sharp pain in her back had Abby jerking awake and gasping.
The next one was just as sharp. It fell across her lower back, right where the worst of the pain had come from earlier in the day. She cried out and stiffened up, anticipating the next blow. It came from across her shoulder blades. She hissed and thrashed on the bed, her eyes watering with pain.
The door opened. At some point someone had turned off the oil lamp she'd left burning. She could see a large silhouette filling the doorway.
Abby felt the bed shift as Mark sat down, then felt his hands on her shoulders. He pulled her against him, rocking her a bit as the pain flared again, this time across her stomach. She clutched at his hands, whimpering.
She waited with her breath caught in her throat for another blow, but it seemed to be over just as suddenly as it began. Abby sobbed and buried her face in her hands, her shoulders jerking, as she tried to reign in the fear that had come over her upon waking.
"Shh…" Mark's deep voice was even lower than before, sounding sleep roughened. She regretted waking him up but was glad he'd come in. She did not want to suffer this pain alone. "It is all right, Abby. All right." He repeated it over and over, pulling her into his lap and cradling her close to his big body.
Abby shuddered and gripped his bare shoulders. The pain had been even worse than before. She held onto Mark for a few minutes, crying for her sister, who was actually living with the pain while she just caught the aftereffects.
Mark stroked a hand through her hair, murmuring to her. When she calmed down a bit, he pulled back to push her hair from her face. There was little light coming through the doorway from the crackling fire, but it was enough for her to see the worry in his face.
"Bad?"
"Very." Abby blinked a few times to clear her vision. Her expression hardened. "He did it again. That bastard did it again. And Ollie…" She hitched in a breath, unable to go on.
"Is she…" Mark hesitated, not sure if he should say what was on his mind. "Is she alive, Abby? Still alive?" He finally asked.
Abby hesitated, then nodded. She didn't know how she knew, but she did. Ollie was still alive, in massive pain, but alive. It made her want to cry all over again. Her anger at her sister for bringing them here was gone. It was replaced with rage at the man who was hurting Ollie.
Mark shifted under her, carefully moving her beside him on the bed. "Do you need the salve?"
Abby nodded again. She knew that the pain would fade and the marks disappear, but for now the sensations were urgent, sharp. Mark got up and padded out of the room. He returned moments later carrying the same glass jar as before. Abby noticed he was wearing nothing but a pair of loose pants. His feet were bare, his chest bare, his hair was down, falling over his shoulders.
Embarrassed that she'd awakened him, even more embarrassed that he noticed her studying him, Abby ducked her head. "I'm sorry I woke you."
"You could not help it." Mark said, lighting the oil lamp once more. He turned it low, so it barely lit the bed. Abby snuck another look at him. He was well built. She chided herself for the understatement. While she had never really gone for the muscular type, on Mark it looked good. Mark either did not notice, or saved her modesty and pretended not to notice, her scrutiny of his chest and arms. "I do not want you to have to deal with this by yourself, Abby." He motioned to her. He had not actually looked at her since lighting the lamp. "You will have to get that off and lay on your stomach."
Abby looked down and blushed as she realized why. The nightgown. It was see-through. She'd forgotten. Of course, there were more pressing things on her mind than what she was wearing. She grimaced and shrugged the material down her shoulders, letting it pool at her waist. Then she stretched out on her stomach.
Mark waited until she was settled then dipped his fingers into the jar. "Only a few this time." He murmured, stroking her skin gently. Abby closed her eyes, feeling dull heat throb at the points he touched. It was fading already. Maybe she was getting used to this…psychic…whatever it was that she and Ollie seemed to be sharing.
Mark finished her back and looked at her back. The lines from earlier were gone, replaced by much more vivid redness. At that moment, he wished Dimitri were there, that Dimitri's neck was firmly in his hands, that he was listening to the last harsh gasps as the man died.
"Mark?" Abby whispered. He'd been sitting there, staring at her, for several minutes. He shook himself and looked into her eyes, a guilty smile on his lips.
"Sorry. Wool gathering." He started to set the jar aside. Abby touched his arm before he could place it on the table.
"Uh…I might need that…I have another one on my stomach." Lying on it had been hell, but her back was the more pressing pain. That was until the salve started to sink into her skin and numbed her.
"On your stomach?" Mark frowned, his look thunderous.
"Yeah. Straight across." Abby pulled the blanket and carefully turned to her side, clutching it to her chest. The red welt was bright against her skin. Mark sighed and began spreading the salve over it.
"Hitting anywhere but on the back must mean your sister was not tied up for the beating." Mark observed, trying to detach himself from what he was doing. It was hard, considering the amount of skin that Abby was exposing.
"She just stood there and took it?" Abby asked, her eyes growing heavy. The pain was fading, and Mark's hand was hot against her skin. It was almost enough to make her forget the lashing.
"In my opinion, yes." Mark sighed and set the jar aside finally. "She might have turned to keep from getting a blow to the back."
"Poor Ollie." Abby said sadly. She gave Mark a look. He turned so she could readjust her gown, setting it to rights. It really did not matter. She might as well have worn nothing, the gauzy fabric left nothing to the imagination. He made it a point to look elsewhere as she settled herself back against the pillows. "I have to save her. She's my sister. She's all I have left."
Mark watched as she tried to fight off sleep. The pain, the connection to her sister, had taken a lot out of her. It was draining, keeping that kind of telepathy going. And she wasn't even aware she was doing it. "We will save her, Abby. I would stake my life on it. I get the feeling that there is nothing you cannot do once you put your mind to it."
"I do like to get my way." Abby yawned, making him smile.
"Rest now. We can talk in the morning." He moved to the edge of the bed and stopped when her hand touched his arm.
"Don't leave me." Her eyes were open, looking at him beseechingly. Mark swallowed and raised an eyebrow.
"You want me to stay here…with you?" He asked, wanting to make sure that was really what she wanted.
"Please." Abby shifted, making room on the bed. Mark stretched out beside her and smiled as her hand found his. "I don't want to be alone."
Mark knew how she felt. He'd been alone for a very long time. It was nice just to lie there next to Abby and listen to her breathe, to feel her hand in his. He could tell the moment she dropped into sleep. He reached out and turned the oil lamp down, killing the flame. The room descended into darkness. The only light once again came from the fireplace in the main room.
Mark carefully rolled onto his side and studied Abby's sleeping face in the dim room. She did not know how much of a temptation she was to him, that was the hell of it. He'd only known her for a brief time and already dreaded the thought of losing her, of her going back to her real life. With a sigh he snuggled closer to her, pulling her against his body. For now it was enough to hold her in the dark, to pretend things were different. He fell into a troubled sleep with that thought following him into the depths.
