Chapter Thirteen

They emerged in a sort of old wooden building, what looked like the remains of a crude one-floor keep. The ceiling had long since fallen through, leaving a gaping hole through which sunlight flooded in. Dust stirred as they crawled out of the trapdoor, coughing and sneezing. They dodged piles of dirt and rubble as they made their way out of the building. They found themselves in a small bailey, part of what appeared to be an abandoned fortress.

"Looks like an old Roman-style fort," Gillian commented. "I'm guessing it was in use before Langdon Castle was built."

Just then, Lana noticed a dark shape as it streaked out of the shadows and trotted over to them. "Hey… what are you doing here?" she asked, recognizing Isolde's cat.

He purred and rubbed against her legs.

"Methinks he likes you."

She, Clark, and Gillian looked up to see Isolde walking toward them. "I've been expecting you three," the old woman greeted them.

"Now why am I not surprised?" Gillian muttered. "Let me guess—you guided us here?"

"You catch on quickly."

"Why did you want to see us, Isolde?" Lana wanted to know. "Is something wrong?"

"Aye. My visions do not bode well for you." Isolde's expression grew somber. "Blackwood returns on the morrow. He will ask for your hand again, and you will refuse. But Blackwood is unaccustomed to anyone who will not bend to his will, particularly a woman. He'll not take it well."

"Um, no offense, Isolde, but that's something we've kind of figured out," Lana said tactfully.

Isolde's expression only became graver. "You do not know Blackwood. His evil is incalculable. Would that Alexander were the elder son, as he is a just and kind man like his father. But alas, 'tis Lothar who has the power now, and he'll stop at nothing to achieve his ends. He will attack Langdon—and he will succeed."

Lana stared at her, and in that instant she knew that Isolde had foreseen the whole story. "So you've seen it all," she murmured. "You know Kendrick will die for Lianne… for me."

Isolde did not answer, but her eyes told Lana everything she needed to know. Then she walked up to Clark, gently touched a withered hand to his cheek. "True love, my child, will be your blessing… and your downfall."

"No!" The force of Lana's outcry surprised even herself. "He'll not die here! I won't allow it."

"I know you won't. But sometimes sheer force of will is not enough to change what is written by fate."

"I don't believe in fate," Lana declared.

"But fate brought you together… just as it will eventually tear you apart."

Lana shook her head stubbornly. "It won't. If we have to change history, we'll do it."

"It cannot be done!" The force in Isolde's voice gave Lana momentary pause. "The prophecy will come true. But that does not mean you should sit idly by and watch it. Fate works in mysterious ways."

Lana frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Things aren't always as they appear," was Isolde's reply. "You mustn't lose hope. Fight. The fate of Langdon—and of your love—is in your hands. You say you've been experiencing Lianne's memories. She will send you another one soon, one that may help you understand."

They were silent for a moment, waiting for Isolde to go on. She did not. "So that's it?" Lana finally asked, her disappointment and frustration evident.

"I only tell you what I see. And so far, that is all."

They could see that they would get no more from the old woman. "Thank you, Isolde," Gillian said. "But I still refuse to believe that Clark's going to die here."

"Who said he was going to die here?" Isolde responded. "I said fate would tear him and Lana apart… just how that will occur, I know not."

Gillian let the subject drop, Isolde's grim words hanging over them like a pall. "We'd best be getting back to Langdon now. Fare thee well, Isolde."

"You, too, my child," Isolde replied. With a wan smile, Gillian turned and headed back to the keep with Clark and Lana in tow.

Lana felt a gentle touch on her hand, and looked up as Clark laced his fingers through hers. "Don't worry, Lana," he said quietly. "I don't plan on dying here."

She swallowed hard. "I will not let you die."

"I know." He squeezed her hand to reassure her, but it only made the lump in her throat swell even more. They lapsed into silence as they followed Gillian back into the passage.

Isolde watched after then, burdened down by the weight of her own predictions. "You have a rough road ahead of you, my children. Your love will be tested greatly before your journey is over. I only hope the strength of your love can see you through, and that the prophecy will not proceed as I fear it will."

Clark, Lana, and Gillian walked along in silence until they reached the castle. Making sure the passage door was closed firmly behind them, they embarked on the labyrinthine path back to the keep.

They had taken but a few steps from the passage door when Eleanor skidded to a stop in front of them. She was breathing heavily, her face chalk-white. She had clearly been running. "Milady! I've been looking all over for you!"

Lana became alarmed. "Why? What's wrong?"

"'Tis your father's room! Someone has tampered with it!"

The color drained from Lana's face. "Oh, God," she murmured. She, Clark, and Gillian practically sprinted back to the keep.

"Oh, no," Gillian moaned when they reached Henry's room. The room had clearly been searched, Henry's belongings scattered all over the place. Lana immediately ran over to his travel satchel, which lay open on the bed. When she picked it up, it was just as she feared. "The breviary's gone."

"Oh, shit." Gillian sank down on the bed, head in her hands.

"Who could've done this?" Clark wanted to know. "We're the only ones who knew about the breviary."

"It could be anyone," Gillian answered glumly. "If Blackwood has a spy in our castle, there's no telling who it is or how much they know."

"Have you guys seen anyone acting suspicious?" Lana asked. Her suspicions were confirmed when both Clark and Gillian answered in the negative.

"Whoever it is has to be in a position to blend in, to be able to monitor our every move without us knowing," Gillian speculated. "My first guess would be one of the servants. They're trained to be invisible, to not attract attention to themselves."

"We wouldn't have paid any attention to a servant passing by in the hall," Lana concluded glumly.

"But there are dozens of servants in this castle," Clark pointed out. "How do we know which one it is?"

"Provided it even is a servant," Gillian made sure to add. "Although it seems like the most likely possibility, we can't rule anything or anyone out."

"Good point. So where do we go from here?" Lana asked, slumping down on the bed next to Gillian.

"Unfortunately, I don't think there's much we can do beyond keeping our eyes and ears peeled," Gillian replied. "Anything we say or do involving our suspicions about Blackwood must never go beyond the three of us. We should also monitor anyone who passes in and out of the castle. If Blackwood gets his hands on that breviary, we're up shit creek without a paddle."

They sat in silence for a minute, still reeling from the events of the morning and now this. Finally Lana stood up. "I'll tell the guards to watch everyone leaving or entering the castle."

"Good call," Gillian agreed. "Clark and I will get this place cleaned up, see what else might be missing."

Lana departed, leaving Clark and Gillian to clean the room in silence. Lana tried to be optimistic, reminding herself of how fortunate it was that Eleanor discovered the incident so quickly. The thief couldn't have gone very far. The way this place was guarded, surely they wouldn't make it past the gate.

Still, she could not shake the nagging feeling that things were going to get worse before they got better.

Night fell over the woods surrounding Langdon. The woman entered the building nervously, clutching her bounty close to her chest. It was pitch-black, save for the one or two small torches that barely offered enough light to discern where she was going. What struck her most was the utter and total silence. It was so quiet, she could actually hear the crackling of torches and her own ragged breathing.

She heard his voice before she saw him, a hulking shadow in the flickering light. "Who goes there?"

"'Tis I, my lord."

"Ah, yes." His voice was low and rich, deceptively calm. "I assume you're here because you found something of import… that is why you're here, isn't it?"

A shiver raced down her spine, and she unconsciously took a step backward. "Methinks you'll be very interested in what I have, my lord."

"Really. Pray tell, let me see it."

She produced the object from under her cloak.

He took it, his expression subtly shifting as he peered at the sleek black leather and gleaming gold letters. He turned the book around in his hands, noticed the severed binding. His dark eyebrows shot up as he withdrew several pieces of parchment.

"My word… however did you find this?"

"I am very observant, my lord."

He gazed at her, his expression inscrutable. It usually was. "I'm sure you are. I see that I chose well."

She peered at him through lowered lashes, her nervousness tempered by the thrill that piercing gaze sent through her.

"I have some other news that may be of interest to you as well, my lord."

"Do tell."

She shared what she had learned that day, topping it off with the most scandalous tidbit of all. "About the lady and de Montclair… I saw them together. I fear the rumors are true, my lord. De Montclair has seduced your bride."

Something dark and dangerous sparked in his eyes. His grip tightened about his sword, so much that his knuckles turned white. Abruptly he drew the blade as slashed through the air, neatly severing the tallow candle that burned on the table beside him. His companion shrieked and danced aside as the flaming tip clattered to the floor in front of her.

A second later he sheathed his sword, his expression as calm and unruffled as though nothing had happened. "You have done well, dear. Come. I will reward you appropriately."

The sheer terror she had felt just a second before evolved into something else, a delicious and exciting sort of fear. It was why she kept doing this. Why she kept serving him. Of course, he had promised her adequate gold and riches, but this… this was the ultimate thrill. Her heart skipped to an irregular tattoo as she followed him out of the room, dreams dancing through her head of a brighter and better future.

A brisk wind whipped through Langdon castle, bringing with it a bite that hadn't been there before. Lana stood out on the battlements, gazing out over the forest, trying to stave off the growing sense of dread regarding Blackwood's arrival.

She also was trying not to think about the fact that this very spot was where she and Clark had… been together.

Just then, the fine hairs on the back of her neck rose, and a tingling sense of awareness rode over her. She didn't have to turn around to know he was there, standing behind her.

"So you came out here to think, too," he remarked.

She nodded. "Just when I think I can't take any more drama… the plot thickens."

"I know what you mean."

She sucked in a breath, turned to face him. "Isolde saw it, Clark… she saw everything. She knows what's going to happen. That you—Kendrick—will die in my arms."

"Lana, I'm not doing to die," Clark insisted. "Trust me."

"How can you be so sure?" she countered. "You've cheated death so many times, in ways I still can't figure out. One of these days your luck has to run out."

"Is that what you think?" He moved toward her, his eyes reflecting warmth and compassion. "You need to stop worrying. We're going to be fine. We'll find some way to outsmart this supposed prophecy—provided there's anything at all to this."

"It's real," Lana said bluntly. "If you asked me a couple of weeks ago I'd have laughed, but I've seen too much now. We both have." She sighed, looking up at him, suddenly feeling that she was too far away from him even though she was standing right next to him. "I-I'm just so afraid to lose you…"

"Hey…." He pulled her in his arms, which as usual proved to be her undoing. It was as if a dam broke and all her feelings of fear, doubt, and confusion came spilling out. She had never felt so weak. Never been so grateful for his strength.

"You're not going to lose me, Lana," Clark vowed. "Not now. Not ever."

She pulled back just enough to glance up at him. "Really?"

"Really. It'll take more than a prophecy to get rid of me," he kidded. "We've cheated fate before… remember that phone call? You were supposed to die."

"But you saved me," she said. "I remember."

"So maybe now it's your turn to save me."

She smiled, but it was a weak smile, shadowed by the doubt she couldn't chase from her mind. "How could I save you?" she asked. "I'm not a warlock… or should I say a witch?"

"I don't know about th.at…" His eyes shone like green flames as he gazed down at her. "You've definitely cast some kind of spell on me."

She groaned. "Oh, God, Clark, that is so cheesy…."

"Is it working?"

"Yes," she replied, and was promptly silenced as his lips descended upon hers. She sank into his arms, taking him in, letting him fill her senses and momentarily drive everything else away, all the confusion and fear and drama. The niggling fear that no matter how intense things seemed between them now, that somehow this wasn't really real, that she was going to wake up and their relationship would be as muddled and messed-up as it ever had been. Strangely enough, some things were simpler here. At least, they were.

It was the one good thing about being stuck in this place.

Afterward, she rested her head on his shoulder, in that little crook that felt like it was made just for her. She breathed in the smell of him, that clean soapy scent that was uniquely his. It never failed to stir the most basic of reactions in her. If she could just bottle the Essence of Clark, she could market it as an aphrodisiac.

Or maybe it just worked for her.

"I wish there was something more we could do," she murmured. "I'm almost afraid to sleep tonight, wondering what sort of dream Lianne will send me."

"But that's a good thing," he pointed out. "Whatever she tells you could help us out."

"True. It's just… when I dream about her, it's always so intense. It kinda freaks me out," she admitted. "What about you? Haven't you experienced any of Kendrick's memories?"

He shook his head. "No… it's weird. I'm not getting anything from him. I think sometimes I sense the kind of person he was, what he would do if he were in my shoes. I notice I've been acting a little, um, bolder lately."

"Umm-hmmm." She smiled up at him. "But it's not like you haven't done that before."

He looked confused. "What do you mean…Ohhh…"

She nodded, grinning mischievously. "Like that time you came in the Talon wearing that black leather jacket… and you kissed me… whatever happened that jacket, anyway? I kinda dug it."

He looked a little embarrassed. "I don't know what possessed me to buy it. Temporary insanity?"

"Well, sometimes I wish you'd have temporary insanity again," she remarked, a little shocked by her own boldness. "Don't get me wrong, you could be a real jerk, but you were a sexy jerk."

His eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Uh-huh… maybe when we get back home you could, you know, get out that jacket again?"

She could see his cheeks starting to flush, which amused her to no end. Dear Lord, he was cute when he was embarrassed. "It's not really my style."

"Come on… won't you wear it just for me?"

"I guess…." he finally relented. "As long as you don't ask me to sport a tunic and hose again we're cool."

"Deal." But the levity of the moment soon faded, thinking about how far they were from home. "Interesting, how you don't know anything about Kendrick. Yet at the same time it doesn't surprise me. He was such a mysterious figure… sweeping in long enough to steal the lady's heart and then disappearing. I wonder where he got his abilities from… do you think he might've been a warlock?"

"I think you and Gillian have been watching too many Buffy reruns," Clark said dryly. "It's probably like the professor said… he's just some kind of prodigy, a great athlete. The stories are probably exaggerated."

"Maybe." Lana wasn't convinced, however. "But wouldn't it be so much more exciting if he really were special, like Isolde said you were?"

"Isolde could've meant all sorts of things by that."

"Yeah, I know." But she was reluctant to give up the idea. "You and he are really a lot alike, you know… two mysterious young men who perform death-defying feats on a regular basis."

"You forgot the tall, dark, and handsome part," Clark reminded her.

"Oh yeah, that, too." She grinned.

"You don't think it's odd I'm not experiencing any of Kendrick's memories?"

"Nah… maybe it just means you're so much alike, you don't need to."

"You're a lot like Lianne yourself, you know."

"How?" Lana wanted to know. "Lianne is so much braver and stronger than I could ever be."

Clark shook his head. "Not true. Lana, you're one of the bravest, strongest people I know."

"Really?" She regarded him doubtfully. "You're not just saying that?"

"No." His voice was low, husky. "I've always seen that about you. It's why I…"

"Why you what?" she whispered, her heart leaping somewhere around her throat as she leaned closer to him.

"Why… I'm so captured by you."

"Oh." She tried to conceal her disappointment that he hadn't said what she was so sure he'd been about to say. "Well, it seems you've done a bit of capturing yourself," she joked, smiling. "So, warlock, you wanna show me some more of those powers?"

"I thought you'd never ask." His eyes darkened as he leaned closer to her, and a hint of the ex plosive passion she'd seen the last time they'd been out here burned beneath his gaze. She shivered deliciously as lips met in a slow, deep kiss that quickly brought all rational thought to an end. It was almost enough to make her forget the unanswered questions, the fact that he'd once again sidestepped anything that resembled telling her what was really going on with him.

Almost.