A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews! :) I appreciate knowing how you guys feel about the story/chapter. I love reading your comments! And welcome to my new readers- thanks also to those of you who recently reviewed The Quest. (See, I can be nice. 0-:-) )… and now on to the story (heh heh heh)…
**Chapter XXVIII**
xXx
Music should strike fire from the heart of man, and bring tears from the eyes of woman.
~Ludwig van Beethoven
xXx
.
One wide corridor stood between Erik and the wing in which his Angel was trapped. As yet the soldiers remained unaware of the quick and silent infiltration of their enemies, but that must now change.
Three guards spoke with one another, their conversation casual, all with their backs to Erik. He hoped the children were assembled in their places, at the ready, for the time had come to strike. Silently withdrawing his sword, he crept away from the shadows and into the open corridor.
"Monsieurs?" he inquired, deceptively soft.
They spun around in shock, their horror amplified when they saw his twisted face. They never had a chance to do more than utter gasps and reach for their weapons before Erik quickly disposed of all of them. Stepping over their bodies, he moved down the corridor.
A sudden gasp and he turned, his sword poised to strike.
A boy with light hair cowered next to Armando. The newcomer winced as he looked at Erik's face but thankfully did not scream. He needed no one to alert the soldiers of his destination.
"Who are you, and what is your purpose here?" Erik whispered, lowering his sword. "You are no gypsy. And with your fair coloring, you certainly are no relation to the Don."
As he spoke, the strange boy's eyes widened. He inhaled in shock then went pale.
"Are you mute?" Erik impatiently urged. "I asked you a question!"
"I … I am Cedric," he stuttered. Stared wide into Erik's eyes. Looked away.
Erik narrowed his own eyes; there was something familiar about the boy. He spoke in Spanish, but bore the distinct accent and fair coloring of a child from France.
"He has a key to all locked doors of the prisoners," Armando said. "We freed the men from their quarters where they were being held. Cedric detained a guard, and I snuck behind and hit him hard over the head with my pistol." Armando smiled. "Our men have gone to the wine cellar to retrieve weapons there and to join us in the fight."
The news encouraged Erik. The boy was clever, altering the plan and choosing a new course when an unforeseen opportunity arose, following through quickly. "I am well pleased," he said in frank admiration. The plan to free the Rom to join the battle originally was to come later, once the soldiers were occupied in fighting and Armando could slip in and blast the doors with more gunpowder. "Did you dispose of the locked gate?"
"Si, Su Majestad. The others are in place."
He nodded swiftly. "We must act quickly – the soldiers will know of our presence soon. Armando, get in position for the next plan. You," he ordered Cedric, "give me the key."
The boy shook his head, startling Erik with his refusal. "I must free my friend first. I-I promised her. Sh-she's a prisoner here."
"As is my wife - the Queen!" he hissed.
The boy's mouth dropped open. "YOU are Música del Rey?" he whispered, sounding hoarse.
"I am."
Erik was given no time to question the boy's profound shock or again demand the key, perhaps wrest it from his tight fist. A loud shout issued from the distant end of the corridor, and Erik saw with alarm that a group of soldiers ran their way. One pulled out his pistol, aimed and fired.
Erik gave no thought to his actions, pushing both children down to the ground, out of harm's way, and swinging behind the corner wall. He aimed his musket while Armando rolled out of danger, coming to a stop beside him. The other boy lay inert on the flagstones.
"Fool!" Erik rasped. "Come here now!"
Erik fired at the soldier as the boy tried to crawl, but he shook so hard he could barely move. The guard fell. With a growl, Erik grabbed Cedric by the leg and dragged him to safety. What safety there was trapped in a corner of the villa – but Erik had endured similar situations at the opera house and often worked best in tight corners. He still had his two loaded pistols plus the soldier's one.
Armando grabbed his own gun from his belt and fired into the swarm of uniformed men. Another fell. A soldier tripped over him, sprawled out - a motionless target that Erik quickly disposed of.
The soldiers likewise sought cover, but relentlessly moved closer.
xXx
The sound of gunfire exploded within the villa.
"Now!" one of the boys shouted from the trees as the group hidden within targeted the two guards on watch with daggers. One of the men's guns went off before he slipped to the earth. Another cried out in alarm.
Soldiers soon flocked into the courtyard, a mass of vultures in black and gold uniforms. A barrage of arrows flew at them from the trees. Futile blasts of gunfire sparked as their musket shots rang out blindly, the men powerless to see their close targets in the fringe of dark forest. The children moved and fought, silent, as if they were born to the night, and Raoul supposed this they must have learned from their new leader as well.
He felt the oppressive cloud before he looked up, and noticed Nadya look up also, her expression almost welcoming. Raoul, however, recognized darkness and its source.
Grimacing, he raced toward the gate, ignoring her shocked cry for him to wait. A guard confronted him the moment he stepped into the courtyard. Raoul shot point blank. Then shot again at another. Footsteps rang coming up behind him. His two pistols discharged, he tossed them and withdrew his sword, swinging around with it at the oncoming soldier, who dropped to the ground before he could draw his saber. A fourth guard came at Raoul from behind, barely missing him with his own sword. Raoul swung high, soon recognizing the man's weakness in foot play and cornered him against the wall, thrusting his blade through his heart.
The soldiers kept coming. Raoul's nerve endings felt afire, alert, as he fought them off, until at last he alone remained standing with the small gypsy warriors. He doubted their respite would last long. Snatching up his pistols, he holstered both, sensing there wasn't time to reload, and gained entrance inside the villa along with the children. His presumption correct, three more armed men came into sight.
Their shots missed him, though one of the children cried out in pain. The guards too pulled their sabers and ran Raoul's way.
xXx
Christine jumped at the sudden explosion of gunfire outside her door in the corridor.
"Mon Dieu! That was close." She shivered and hugged herself though the room felt oppressive with heat. "Please keep my Angel safe."
Without warning, the key turned fast in the lock. The door shattered open, slamming against the wall. She gasped, but before she could evade him, the Don moved her way and grabbed her arm in a punishing grip.
"Come!" His face dark with rage, he forced her from the room and down a corridor.
She hurried her steps so as not to fall, then tried to hold back, to hinder him, but he pulled her off her feet, almost dragging her. Down one corridor, then another. His grip bruising, his resolve strong.
"Where are you taking me?" she cried out.
"Christine!"
"Erik!" She swung her head to look down an intersecting corridor.
Soldiers concealed themselves and fired at the opposite end and Christine thought she saw Erik's form partially hidden beyond a corner wall. The Don pulled out his gun and shot that way. The figure jerked out of sight. She screamed Erik's name, but the Don relentlessly pulled her along, practically throwing her ahead of him through a door and to the foot of the stairs there. She fell in a heap.
"Climb them," he ground out.
She blinked up at him in confusion but her determination rivaled his madness. Knowing that her beloved fought only a corridor away strengthened her resolve. "No."
Grabbing a thick hank of her hair, he wrenched her head back and she gave a little yelp of pain. The blade of a dagger rested at her throat, its razor-sharp edge pressing against tender skin with each ragged breath she exhaled, enough to draw a bead of blood.
"Climb them or I finish you off now," he said softly, almost seductively near her ear.
Christine whimpered as he pulled the blade away. He hauled her up by her hair to stand while her hands tried to find purchase on the pebbly wall to achieve balance. Her scalp burned at his cruelty. She would rather scratch his evil, leering eyes out than obey his directive but knew she had little choice. Her legs unsteady, she ascended the stairwell, the Don's hot reviling breath on her neck, the dragon that pursued her.
The top of the stairs opened out into a large round turret room that held a dais, black silken ropes, and an altar. Black curtains and candles draped the area near the stone monolith. Her eyes grew round with realization as she turned to face her executioner.
He walked forward and she retreated. He pushed her and she fell at the foot of the altar, staring up at him in horror.
"Si, my dear." His eyes burned evil. "YOU are the sacrifice to appease my dark lord."
xXx
Erik! Christine whispered into his mind in fear. He's MAD – he plans to kill me! To sacrifice me!
Erik's blood ran cold, then rage - white-hot - surged through his veins. He must get through the soldiers and to the corridor where he'd glimpsed his beloved.
He will not do so. Have faith, my Angel – I WILL BE THERE!
Though even he realized such assurances sounded thin when what must amount to more than ten soldiers now blocked his way, and were steadily coming closer. With one shot left and no more lead balls, he couldn't reload his pistols, nor would he have enough time. Once the scurvy lot realized he had no shots left, they would be upon him before he had the chance to devise a plan. He thought fast. It had been some time, he was no longer under the dark influence, but he'd conjured up Christine's roses on four separate occasions so did have some enchantments left.
"Armando, have you more gunpowder?"
"Si." The boy handed the paper to him.
Erik poured a heaping portion into his palm, closed his hand and rose from his crouch. "Take Cedric. When I give the word, hold your breath and run as fast as you are able to the wing with the prisoners. Free all of the women and children. Take them to the cellar and wait for me there."
Armando looked up at Erik in confusion as to what he would do next, but nodded.
Erik inhaled a deep breath; if ever he needed one of Christine's prayers, it was now.
He stepped away from the wall, fired his last shot, then swung his arm wide, flinging the black granules toward the soldiers. Catching sparks of fire in the air, they burst into twin walls of magnificent flame and red smoke, forming a corridor in the center leading away to the next one.
"RUN!" he commanded of Armando as Erik himself held his breath and raced through the corridor between towering walls of flame. Within seconds, they extinguished to dense red smoke blinding and choking the soldiers with rasping coughs.
He sped in the direction he'd seen the Don pull Christine.
A door stood ajar leading to steps winding upward. Hearing Christine's distant sharp cry coming from the top of the stairwell, his heart almost stopped beating and he unsheathed his sword. In silence, he fled up the stairs, a force to be reckoned with, and came to a large tower room.
He halted in momentary shock to see the Don finish trussing Christine's wrist with a silk black rope to a column where she half sat, half lay upon an altar of black marble. Her cheek turned to him was bruised, the skin red from a long scratch. A trace of blood smeared her throat.
With a howl of enraged fury, Erik lunged toward the Don who turned and darted away just before Erik struck out with his sword. The Don gaped in horror at Erik's visage, - made even more frightening by his livid rage - his tendons standing out, his marred flesh bright red and purple.
"You, monsieur," Erik seethed, "have taken your last breath."
The Don darted behind the altar. Erik swung his sword high and brought it down fast, slicing through the thick black rope as if it were the flimsiest of barriers. He pulled his Angel down from the altar. "Run!" he ordered her.
She started to flee then stopped at the entrance, as if not knowing where to go.
"Christine!" He glanced in her direction. "Run down the stairwell and to the nearest exit – leave now!"
"I want to stay with you!"
Erik had no time to insist as the Don pulled a dagger from its place of concealment and hurled it at Erik's head. He dodged just in time and bounded up onto the dais. From a wall nearby, the Don pulled down a sword and held it out in defense as Erik drew closer.
Christine moved further back, against the wall, as she untied the knotted rope from around her wrist.
"Go, Christine! I will not see you further harmed."
"I won't leave you, Erik!"
"How touching," the Don said with a sneer. "But your musical bride is right to stay – he wants both of you."
"ENOUGH! I will hear no more from your vile lips," Erik lashed out with his words, then his sword as he leapt forward with agile swiftness.
The Don just managed to block him, then with a boot to his stomach, sent Erik hurtling backward. It soon became evident that the Don had been well trained, but Erik's love for his wife was far greater, aiding him as he again took the offensive.
Blade clashed with blade in sparks of deadly steel as the two men circled the altar, then leapt off the dais in their fight to the death. Erik parried and thrust, finding skin. The Don howled in enraged pain as red spotted his shirt below his ribs. He then took the offensive, coming at Erik with a vengeance as Erik spun around and retreated, leaping atop the altar, blocking the Don's every thrust.
A black cloud grew pervasive in the room, seeping like oily smoke from the cracks of the high ceiling, hovering, without shape, tendrils reaching, ever moving, to touch the ends of the round walls. Christine audibly gasped.
Erik noticed the evil presence, saw the electricity pulsating within. Outside, thunder bellowed, shaking the earth. Inside the tower room, the candles rocked in their tall holders and the curtains wavered.
Suddenly Christine's sweet voice rose in song above the slashing of blades. The black smoke grew frantic, boiling, as if angry, and the Don bellowed in rage, darting behind a column, one hand pressed flat to his ear as he continued to fight. Brilliant white light flashed inside the room, different from the cloud's sparks.
"Yes! Sing, My Angel," Erik cried out. "Sing!"
Her voice lifted high to the heavens in operatic perfection, her crystalline clear notes slicing through the thick darkness, empowering Erik, scattering the cloud. He leapt off the altar at the same time the Don swung sideways at Erik's legs with his sword, and Erik again gained the offensive. The Don was weakening, his blocks coming faint.
"Make her stop!" the Don ordered and Christine's song abruptly ended.
Erik darted a look over his shoulder to see with alarm that a guard had grabbed her, his hand covering her mouth as she struggled to break free. The cloud thickened, and the Don took the advantage, slicing his blade along Erik's sword arm, severing cloth and skin. Erik winced in pain, but held fast to his sword. The two men circled one another.
"You will rue the day you dared touch my wife!" Erik promised, his nostrils flaring. "You and your foul men. That will be THIS day - when you shall burn in hell!" He thrust with his sword, finding contact, but barely. The Don darted away, Erik's sword glancing off his shoulder.
A scuffle sounded behind. The guard holding Christine fell with a groan, the tip of a sword thrust into his back. From the corner of his eye Erik watched the Vicomte enter the room, his blade dripping red with blood.
"Mon Dieu – Christine …." His awestruck gaze of horror lifted above to the roiling supernatural cloud that filled the entire turret room ceiling, then to Erik fighting the Don.
"Take her – GO!" Erik commanded of the Vicomte. Christine's life was in jeopardy – all their lives – and despite his loathing for the man, Erik knew he could entrust her to his strong guard, that the Vicomte would get her to safety as he had done at the opera house when the mob chased them.
"No, Erik!" she screamed as the Vicomte pulled her arm.
She broke away.
The Vicomte sheathed his sword and his arms wrapped about her waist from behind, beneath her bosom, as he tried to physically drag her from the room. Still she struggled, digging her nails into his sleeves.
"I won't go without you!" she cried. "Not this time!"
"Leave now! It's the PHANTOM!" Erik had been aware, ever since the cloud entered the room, of what he now fought. He barely blocked the thin blade as the Don swung down hard at his head.
Christine let out a strangled sound of horror. The cloud swirled above to take on the shape of a ghostly hooded form. The look in the Don's eyes was unholy, a man possessed.
"TAKE HER, DAMN YOU!" Erik cried out.
The Vicomte picked her up bodily, throwing her over his shoulder. Erik heard Christine cry out for him as his rival carried her from the turret room.
His eyes burning, his teeth bared, Erik lunged forward, swinging at the Don with all his might.
.
xXx
A/N: Oops. A cliffie.
*Runs.
0-:-)
Please review... (Imagine GB's voice singing) "that's all I ask of ..."
Mask & wig whipped away. Startled gasps. Guns aimed, trapdoor triggered...
whooosh!
falling through floor and disappearing...
(oops. Another cliffie. I can't seem to get away from those. ;-))
