Hey everyone! Here's the newest chapter, hopefully it was worth the wait :)
Amy stared at the man before them, stunned. Luke Cahill? Impossible! Then it hit her, it wasn't impossible, if this was Tudor England of course it was possible. We're in the times of the original Cahills, she thought, as in the times of Damien Vesper.
"You alright?"
Ian's voice shook her out of her reverie and she suddenly realized that they were standing in a long guard free corridor. He must've steered her out while she assimilated all the events of the evening. Unfortunately, the most dangerous part was still to come. She looked up at Ian and wasn't surprised to see a look of pure concern in his amber eyes. She glanced down at his hand, which was resting on her arm, and ran her fingers over his as if to certify that they really were there.
"Amy."
"Yeah, sorry. I-I'm just a bit i-in shock here, nothing mayor," she stammered pulling her hand away and hugging herself.
"It's fine, we're in and that's all that matters. Let me handle this, alright?"
"How can you be so calm?"
"Why shouldn't I be?" he asked annoyingly calm.
"Well, let's see. We're 500 years into the past, your hand was nearly chopped off and we're going to talk to a guy who's taken a serum that makes him ruthless and calculating and just plain evil. Explain to me why I should be calm or you should be calm!"
He smiled gently, "I didn't think you'd care what happened to me."
That stunned her and she opened her mouth to respond, shut it and opened it again, "Yeah, well, I'm not precisely in the mood to-o watch hands being c-chopped off and b-besides I wouldn't be able to stop s-staring at the lack of a hand and, and it's just plain nasty," she stammered.
Ian smiled again and started to speak but from the end of the hall, Luke Cahill's voice reached them, cold and authoritarian.
"If the two of you could please join me?"
"Of course. My apologies, my lord," Ian replied smoothly. He turned to the pale girl and grabbed her arms, "Step only where I step, understood?" he whispered urgently.
"Why…?"
"Just step where I step, Amy."
Not knowing why but deciding it was best to do as he said she kept a close watch on where he stepped. Sometimes she would deviate slightly from the set course and he'd pull her back, a strong grip on her arm. By the time they reached the end of the corridor she could barely feel her arm and shook his grip off when she felt him relax.
"Want to explain now?" she asked annoyed.
"The whole top floor is booby trapped," he explained, "It can easily be rigged by security so it will only be a potential hazard at specific times whenever there is someone they want to make disappear or in our case test."
"He was testing us? Wait, he didn't seem to be avoiding specific paths or anything, he just walked straight down the center of the corridor and btw, how did you know where to step?" she asked.
"First, of course he was testing us. Not only did we manage to get past his whole security and into the house but we took down half of his trained guards and might I remind you I'm wearing a ring that is yet to be created, unfortunately. To answer your second question, yes he did have a pattern, he didn't need to look or hesitate because he's walked down these corridors for years and is well aware of where exactly the traps are. As for me I just watched and learned."
"Unbelievable," she murmured.
Smiling, he took her arm, "Come, our gracious host doesn't have an infinite patience, although I doubt he's waiting for us," he finished with an amused grin.
Amy returned the smile nervously and stuck close to him watching where he stepped, though she doubted the rest of the corridors were booby trapped. Ian strode down the corridors without hesitation, denoting his knowledge of the house. Amy herself was long lost and knew that either she stuck to Ian like glue or she'd never find her way out, she'd wander the halls lost until she was hunted down by the cruel guards and killed. She shivered and hurried to catch up with the British boy.
"Uh, Ian…"
"Yes love?"
"Those lush gardens you mentioned. When exactly were they planted in a labyrinth kind of style? You know, the ones where you and Natalie got lost and they had to send the homing poodles after you?"
Ian chuckled, "The style was copied from the Gardens of Versailles and modified to suit security mean."
"Good."
They finally reached a large study, with stylish chairs, a large window overlooking the gardens and an elegant desk behind which sat Luke Cahill pouring over, what Ian guessed to be, branch reports. The corridors had been chilly but the study itself was warm and inviting thanks to the fireplace where flames crackled merrily. But Amy wasn't seeing any of that, she was awestruck and overwhelmed by the walls lined by mahogany bookcase, filled with precious manuscripts and books which she could tell had been lost for centuries by the time she was born. As if in a dream she walked over to one of the bookshelves, yearning to touch one of the books but filled with such reverence for them that she didn't dare corrupt its purity.
Luke Cahill looked up surprised and smiled, a cold smile that would've chilled the young Madrigal had she been looking but to Ian it was a smile as cold as his mother's so it didn't affect him.
"You've been well trained," he commented, "First, you manage to get past one of the finest security systems in this country or any. Then you completely humiliate my security guards and to top it all you avoid traps never seen outside these walls. Tell me, how did you do it? I'm curious."
"And that curiosity is what keeps us alive," Ian replied, "Let us cut a long story short and leave the answer as 15 years of training."
"You perhaps, but I did not need to have stood at that banister for long to infer that this young lady has received minimal training, am I right?"
Ian hesitated, not knowing whether the information would put her at risk or not, then shrugged dismissively just like his parents had done so many times. Luke raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything. He rose from his chair and walked over to the girl. Her fingers were delicately tracing the spine of one of the books absentmindedly. Luke took the book from its place and the flames from the candles shimmered on its golden trimmings.
"Il Milione by…"
"Rustichello da Pisa," she said softly.
"Correct. Fascinating tales, yet how much of it is true and how much is but a mere illusion? Am I right, madam, to assume that you are a scholar and not a fighter?"
"Indeed you are correct," Ian said stepping in.
He knew well that she wasn't precisely eloquent when she was nervous and he'd rather keep her in her reverie than drag her back into the tense and difficult situation in which they'd found themselves. Without a word, Luke offered Amy the book. Her eyes widened and she looked up at him surprised. He regarded her calmly and she bit her lip. Her expression screamed just how much she wanted to take the book and examine it. The Lucian laughed amused, startling her.
"Come along now, it is clear that you would like nothing more than to take it, so do. I need not ask if you know how valuable it is and trust you will handle it with the care it deserves."
Amy glanced at Ian who smiled at her gently and nodded. She gently took the book as carefully as if she were holding a newborn child or a fragile piece of glass and sank into the chair Luke had gestured.
"Thank you," she gushed her voice revealing her awe.
"Not at all, there are not many who could truly appreciate these marvels."
The girl nodded absentmindedly, already lost in a passage. The Travels of Marco Polo, the original manuscript which she held in her hands had long been lost. Many historians would give up their right hands to get the other on this precious manuscript, yet here she was, Amy Cahill a regular girl from Boston, sitting in a beautiful study in the 16th century with Il Milione on her lap. A pity she couldn't read old French. She flipped through the pages tracing her fingers over the curved script and admiring the hand painted images. The head of Luke's soldiers suddenly appeared and as the two men conferred, Ian walked over to the girl, resting his hand on the back of her chair. She looked up to him, her eyes bright and excited.
"This is incredible. Il Milione. It's-it's… I don't know how to even…. This is such a rare marvel; never in my wildest dreams would I have thought... Oh, Grace would've loved this; she would've been able to decipher what is says too, modern Italian isn't so different from old Italian I guess. Ugh, why did I take chemistry instead of French or Spanish I'll never know."
Ian smiled, "Don't worry. I'm sure I'll be able to make something out of it," he replied, pushing a strand of her reddish brown hair from her face.
Closer to the entrance, Luke listened as his chief of security gave him a detailed report on the evening's occurrences. When he'd finished, the Lucian dismissed him wordlessly and turned his back on him to watch the pair by the bookshelf. The guard glared at them from behind his employer's back, They humiliate us, sneak into the house and instead of being executed he lets the girl pour over his prized collections. Madness I say.
Luke walked over as she gasped.
"Wikipedia doesn't do it justice!"
"I beg your pardon?" Ian asked confused.
"Well, I did some research on all of these things a few years back and honestly the images here are so much clearer regardless of image enhancing."
He chuckled, "Love, by the time they actually get their hands on a copy of this it'll be worn away. You are holding either an original or a pretty new copy of it."
"I take it you are enjoy the book?" Luke asked causing both Cahills to jump.
"Yes, my lord," Ian replied, regaining his composure.
"I am glad. Yet, I believe your purpose here is not to admire my collection. I do not believe you are assassins or thieves yet what else could you want from this place? You have been quite guarded with your answers, young man. Perhaps, you could begin by telling me your names seeing as you seem to know who I am but you have kept me in the dark about your identities."
Glancing at Amy he turned to his ancestor and took a moment to collect his thoughts.
"My name is Ian Kabra and hers is Amy Trent. You are correct in assuming that we are neither assassins nor thieves nevertheless our visit here is, I believe, rather important all the same. If I may, my lord may wish to sit down as this is a startling tale which will be hard for us to relate yet harder for you to understand and believe. Please have patience with us."
So there you go; longest on yet. I really like Luke, I felt so bad for him when his family accused him of killing Gideon that I've developed a soft spot for the guy. OK then, R&R please, let me know what you think and if there's something you'd like to see or think I should improve: I love constructive input :)