Thanks to Robin and Patty for the beta work. You girls ROCK! Thanks to Tammy for the idea of finish your fic month. I hope those of you who are reading this one like this part. For any newbies this is an ELSEWORLD'S tale. Any comments in italics are the narrator's. Enjoy, Char :-)
ONCE UPON A TIME: PART 9
Sir Richard and young Timothy were in grave peril. Not from the fiend who had imprisoned them, but from another. There stood the Gaul, his sword drawn, ready to bring it down upon our young knights. The princess and her two ladies in waiting stood not so helplessly behind him. Before any of them could act, however, Sir Richard spoke to the Gaul in the language of honorable warriors.
"The Ordeal ... trial by combat." His blue eyes looked up at the Gaul whose long shadow fell over him. "If I'm lying, you'll surely defeat me. If I'm telling the truth, you'll know."
The Gaul's eyes narrowed, his grip on the hilt of his sword tightening. With a powerful blow, he swung the broadsword. The blade sliced through the chains holding Sir Richard down. He turned to Lady Dinah and grabbed her sword, casually tossing it to his opponent. "Un Dieu décidera," the blonde man said as he took a battle stance.
Richard held fast to the sword as he stood. He sliced Timothy's chains, unfettering the boy before he turned to face Jean-Paul. "Ready?"
"More than ready," the Gaul sneered as he advanced upon Richard.
Steel clashed upon steel. Sparks flickered as the swords met each other in mortal combat.
The Princess called out to them. "STOP! I command it!" Both men turned to her, their swords still at the ready. "Have you both taken leave of your senses? My lord, Jean-Paul, you are Prince and heir of Gaul, can you not see that I was here trying to aide Sir Richard. Would I be doing that if he had been my abductor?"
Jean-Paul looked at her then back at the man who was his sworn enemy, then back to the Princess. Hanging his head, he softly replied, "I have been a fool mi'lady. I've allowed my personal feelings to cloud my mind and my judgment." Turning to Richard, he asked, "Your pardon, Sir, for the wrongs I have done you and your family. If you will permit me, my blade shall ever be at your service for the grievous wrong I have done you."
Richard nodded. "All's forgiven if we can all safely escape."
Lady Dinah looked around the small room. "Where's Sir Jason?"
Timothy turned from the group. It wasn't seemly for a knight in training to cry. His hands wiped at his eyes. Grabbing the tattered remains of his brother's bloody tunic, he held it to his chest. Taking a deep breath, he stood and turned to his eldest brother. "We need to go."
"Yes, we do." Richard concurred. Swiftly, he moved to Barbara. "Highness, we need to move as quickly as possible if we're to save our family."
Dinah watched as everyone gathered themselves, readying to leave the foul place. "Where is Jason?" she asked again. heart sinking as her sharp words cut through the room.
Richard looked at her and shook his head. "Everyone who's returning to Gotham ... is already in this room." Dinah's hand went to her mouth to hide the gasp of pain that escaped her lips. Stephanie put a comforting arm around her sister. Timothy lovingly tucked Jason's tunic in his belt. Jean-Paul crossed himself as the princess looked down. His jaw flexing, Richard continued, "Let's go." His heart was breaking at the loss of his brother and best friend, but he had a job to do ... lives to save. Richard's eyes swept the room from the Princess, whom he must return quickly to ensure her safety and to save his father. His heart warred with itself as he desired vengeance for Jason. The raging fever of a growing bloodlust to rend the Jester's limbs from excruciating bit by bit was harshly stamped down. He was Sir Richard of Wayne, knight of the realm and the Dark Knight's son. Sworn duty to the Princess, the King, and his father must come first. He would finish his mission, and then return to drag the Jester from his Keep. He would slaughter the Jester and his men, and raze this place from the earth. Jason would be avenged. When the battle was done, then and only then would he allow himself to grieve.
Timothy bent and grabbed two of the chains from the floor, then moved to Dinah and Stephanie. "Ladies, shall we go?"
Stephanie squeezed Dinah gently and they followed out into the corridor. Sir Richard and the Gaul took the lead down the corridor. Princess Barbara reached out taking Dinah's hand in her own as they followed. Stephanie and Timothy followed, with Timothy's alert eyes sweeping the rear. Despite being exhausted in body and mind, the young boy was trying to be alert and guard.
Richard whispered to the Gaul, "Which way?"
The Gaul pointed his sword to the right. "About twenty cubits then turn to the left. That way leads towards the stables." They silently advanced toward the opening.
Their escape was not assured, however, as they met a contingent of the Jester's Pict soldiers. The Picts presented a fearsome picture with their blue war paint and their animal skin coverings. Their look was meant to terrorize. A fierce wildness played across their eyes. There was something primitive in their battle driven desire, their aching to appease their new lord and king. A fierce war cry erupted from the party and they swiftly advanced upon the outnumbered party unleashing their unrelenting desire for blood. The warriors of Gotham and their Gaul ally attacked the Picts with equal ferocity.
Richard plowed into battle with the Picts. His sword seemed to sing in his hand as it whistled through the air to clang first one Pict sword and then another. Deftly, he disarmed an opponent before his blade sliced the man's chest. He grabbed the falling sword in midair and turning crossed his two swords in an "X" formation. In a scissor-like manuevre, he blocked the two downward thrusting swords aimed at his head and then dislodged them from his enemies hands. As the swords flew from their hand, Richard slammed the hilt of his swords into the face of the two attackers, pummeling them into unconsciousness. His rage unabated, he continued to cut a swath of bloody destruction through the Picts.
Jean-Paul was equally as sure-footed and lethal as his compatriot was as he charged into battle against the Princess' captors. He roared in fury as his sword met skin and bone. He made his way across the battleground like the Angel of Death. Bodies littered the ground around him as he continued his deadly advance across the field of battle.
The young squire, Timothy, snapped the chains out at his enemies trying to keep the three ladies protected behind him. His chain clanking as it wrapped around and caught around a sword. With all his might, he pulled trying to disarm the huge, hulking Pict warrior. The sword did not move. The large Pict laughed as he jerked his sword aloft with young Timothy dangling above the ground clutching the chain. Timothy's mouth was agape. However, he had been perilous situations before and instantly began moving. He was, after all, the younger brother of Richard and Jason. His eyes narrowed and he swung on the chain. Pulling his legs up to his knees and swinging out, he kicked the large man in the chest with all his weight. The giant toppled and Timothy rolled away.
Lady Dinah rushed out, stomped the befallen Pict and grabbed his sword. "Timothy," she called tossing the sword. She kept the chain for herself and leapt into the fray. Barbara and Stephanie close on her heels.
The heavy wooden door to the cell opened. Bullock and his men tossed the battered and bruised former Duke of Wayne back into the cramped cell. Lady Selina cried out and ran to her husband; Roy, Leslie and Alfred at her heels followed by Garth and Wallace.
"Bruce," she cried. Fighting the exhaustion and pain racking his body, Bruce pushed himself up on his knees. Her slender arms draped around his neck. "I thought I had lost you. I thought they had taken you to ... be ... "
"Not ... yet," his hoarse voice spoke. He allowed Roy and Wallace to help him to the rock hewn seat by the wall. "My death must be ... public," he gasped out. "Public and very painful."
Leslie gingerly fingered the tatters of his tunic as she stared at the whip marks that creased his already battlescared skin. "If I had my salve, I could prevent the infection, but "
Bruce turned taking her hands in his. "Dear Aunt, it does not matter. There's not enough time to heal." He stroked her kind face as tears welled in her eyes. "Alfred?"
"Yes, my boy," the elderly man asked kneeling in front of his nephew. His voice tinged with the sadness his heart felt.
Bruce clasped Selina's hand in his drawing it to his chest above his fast beating heart. "Is there any parchment? I need to send the King a message."
"He won't take it from you," the older man stated in resigned tones.
"I have to try." He looked at the three younger men before him. His heart ached for them as well as his three absent sons. "He only needs one traitor's death. I need to ask for mercy ... for the rest of you."
"My lord," Roy began. He fell silent as Bruce's hand went up.
"King James has wanted this for many, many years. It has nothing to do with any of you. Just me. I cannot save you, but ... if I can make your death's less torturous. I have to try. It is my duty. I must protect my family if I can." Bruce looked around him at his family. The aunt and uncle who raised him; Roy, the young man he raised with his own sons until he could give him the title of Captain of The Wayne Guard; Wallace and Garth who had become close with his sons in their time in his retinue; and finally Selina. His heart melted at the tears in her green eyes. She was the love of his life. He was comforted in the knowledge that their love would survive their deaths.
Bruce wrapped his arms around his wife as his thoughts drifted to their children. He knew what fate awaited him at midday two days hence, but it was the fate of his sons that preoccupied his thoughts.
The Princess quickly moved into the stables as the battle raged in the courtyard of the Pict stronghold. Stephanie followed her. Barbara turned to her young friend. "Help me with the horses," she ordered.
Nodding, Stephanie helped Barbara bridle six horses. She ran to the stable door and looked out. "They're still fighting. They're all still standing."
"Standing is good," Barbara said as she pulled herself up on the chestnut colored steed, the reins to two other horses in her hands. Stephanie followed suit and they rode out into the melee in the courtyard. "Richard!" the Princess yelled as she galloped toward him.
Richard savagely shoved his sword into the chest of an advancing Pict. His hand twisted the blade as he pulled it out and turned at the sound of his name. The young blood soaked warrior smiled at the vision coming toward him. He raised his sword arm and called to his brother, the Gaul, and Lady Dinah. "To the horses!" He grabbed reins and mane as he pulled himself onto his black horse. He smiled at his Princess' resolve. Stealing back the horse that the Pict's had stolen from where he had moored him outside the earthen castle was a profound feat. She amazed him. "To Gotham!"
The riders tore out of the castle gate at the fastest gallop they could muster. They headed down the South road. Each knew that the Picts would shortly follow them and they wished to gain as much of a head start as they could. The Gaul rode up beside Richard. "I know a place where we may be able to lose our enemies. I noticed it on my way here."
"Lead on friend Gaul," Richard said allowing the other man to take the lead.
"ARGHHHHHHH" the pale thin man yelled as he stormed around the Pict stronghold. "Find them! Find them! Find them!" he screeched. "I haven't had all my fun yet! And they took my bride!"
A small number of Picts followed him as he ranted through the corridors. Hidden in the shadows, the dark haired Pict girl watched. When the Jester had moved toward the courtyard, she backtracked her way to the oubliette at the back of the castle. Grunting, she removed the iron grate and peered into the darkness.
"Who's ... there?" the weak voice cried out barely audible.
The girl looked around and quickly moved to the wall. She tied a rope to the spikes built into the wall. Her hand traced the swords that the spikes held. They would soon be utilized as well. Running back over, she dropped the rope. "Come up."
The rope drew taut as the prisoner grabbed hold and began his climb. She could hear his heavy breathing and an occasional groan as he made his way out of the place of forgetting. Jason's hands clasped the rim of the oubliette and he pulled himself out. "Why did you help me?"
"You kill white faced man?"
Jason's eyes narrowed. "Most assuredly, mi'lady." He was embarrassed to be in the presence of a young lady without clothing covering his upper body, even a young lady as strange as this girl with the blue painted face.
"Then I help."
"I still don't understand why," he stated as she showed him the swords hanging on the wall. Smiling, Jason pulled one of the swords out. "Let's rescue my brothers."
She placed her hand on his arm, halting him from advancing. "They ... not here. Left."
"They left?" His mind contemplated Richard leaving without him. "They think I'm dead, don't they?"
The dark-haired girl nodded. "Flame-haired girl go with them," she reported.
Jason nodded. "Good. They need her to save our family and with them gone, I'm free to act. Thank you for your help. I don't even know your name. I'm Jason of Wayne."
"Cassandra," the girl said pointing to her chest.
"Thank you Cassandra." He watched as she pulled the other sword off the wall.
Cassandra pointed toward the courtyard. "We go. Kill evil one."
"Indeed." Jason followed her as she stealthily made her way through the stronghold. Her movements were cat like in their precision, as well as concealment. Jason was impressed. "If you help me, you won't be able to stay here will you?" She nodded her head. "Why are you helping me against your people?"
"He not ... my ... people."
"What'd he do to you?" Jason asked as they made their way down a deserted corridor.
"Killed ... father."
"I'm sorry," Jason said, his head lowering in a quick prayer. He turned to look at the strange girl and saw the sadness in her eyes. "I promise you, I shall dispatch the Jester and then mi'lady, I shall take you with me to my lands. My mother and father will treat you as their own child."
"That might be hard to do without a head," the Jester laughed. Then looking at Jason he shook his head. "So much for the long, drawn out painful death. I suppose I'll have to just kill you quickly. Maybe I can starve one of your brothers to death instead."
"They aren't here," Jason countered as he moved into a battle stance.
"They'll be back," Jester laughed. He drew another sword from the wall arsenal. "I've learned a lot in the ten years since you caused my exile." He twirled the sword in his hands. "I should have killed you and your cur brother in the beginning of this. Although, I must admit the anticipation of your blood on my sword is absolutely delicious." Jester lunged at Jason and steel sparked in the corridor.
The Pict girl, Cassandra, roared in fury at the two Picts accompanying the Jester. Running at them, she stabbed one in the leg above the knee and kicked out at the other man. Pulling her sword from the first man she pirouetted, swinging the sword with all her might she sliced the oncoming second Pict in the abdomen. She did not watch him fall as she turned to thrust forward with her sword engaging the other wounded man in battle.
Jester and Jason faced off against each other. The young warrior was mindful of his footing. He remembered the lessons his father had taught him well. "Keep your footing on solid ground and do not give ground, only take it." The Dark Knight's voice rang out in his head. Moving forward, Jason began to take his ground.
Jester swung wildly with the sword in his hand. There was no recognizable form to his movements, no predictability to his movements. Jason feigned left, but Jester bent down striking the calf of his opponents leg. Jason stumbled as the Jester's wicked cackle filled the hall. He brought his sword down, but Jason rolled out of the way. Jester kicked the boy in vexation and moved to strike again.
Rolling with the kick, Jason brought himself up, sword in hand.
"Aren't you dead yet?" the Jester asked, frustration in his voice.
"Not until I take you with me," Jason replied.
Blade met blade. The battle engaged once more. The two men warred near where the two Picts sliced at each other. Seeing an opening, Cassandra plunged her sword beneath the Pict's arm skewering the man. He staggered backwards into the fight between Jason and the Jester. His body fell between them in his death rattle, disarming the two combatants. The youth stumbled under the dead man's weight while the Jester fell into the wall.
Cassandra yelled a Pictish battle cry as she advanced upon the Jester. The evil man giggled as he grabbed hold to a cudgel he pulled from the wall. Swinging it out, he smashed her in the face and watched her tumble to the ground. Smiling, he turned toward the youth. "Time to die, little boy."
Jason began to panic as the Jester approached him with the short, heavy club. He found his strength and pulled himself out from under the dead Pict's body. He stumbled as he tried to stand. The Jester swung the cudgel at him, but Jason dodged and the weapon smashed into the earthen wall of the stronghold. Jester swung it again at Jason. "Stay still at die."
The youth grabbed for his fallen sword as the club was brought down on his back. Jason screamed in pain. As Jason twisted in pain, the club descended again striking him in the side of his head. The blood began pouring from his temple and his eye began to swell closely. The pain radiated throughout his body, pulsating in throbbing agony. However, he had to fight back. He could not give in to the pain that was racking his body and sending a blinding red pounding across his vision. Jason reached out blindly for the hilt of his sword, his fingers stretching to grab the weapon.
Jester threw the heavy club down on the boy eliciting another cry as ribs cracked under the heavy blow and reached to pick up his sword. Pulling the sword over his head, he smiled down at the boy below him as his evil cackle echoed through the corridors of the earthen castle. The Jester swung. Jason's hand closed on the hilt of his sword. Jason turned blindly swinging to block the unseen blow. One blade cut true and a head left a neck leaving crimson blood splattered across the earthen wall.
TO BE CONTINUED ...
