Chapter Twenty-one
The day dawned chilly and gray, a heavy mist blanketing the forest as a small party made its way to the lists outside of Langdon castle. Clark, Lana, and Ralph comprised the group. Clark had convinced Gillian to remain at the manor with Pierce, in case Blackwood tried to pull something, but not without staunch resistance. It was only after he told her that she was the only one smart enough to know what to do should something go wrong that she finally relented.
Although she understood Clark's logic, Lana would have been grateful for Gillian's company. She hadn't realized how much she'd come to value the older girl's knowledge, and not just about medieval times. Gillian was always so logical and level-headed. If she was afraid, she'd learned to master it, whereas the cold knot of dread in Lana's stomach pulled tighter and tighter the closer they drew to Langdon.
Soon the battle-ravaged castle towered above them in injured glory as the first pale rays of the sun peeked out from between the clouds. The mist had begun to clear somewhat, but still lent an ominous, otherworldly feel to the place. Lana felt an odd tug in her heart, seeing the once-proud castle that had been her home if only for two weeks, now occupied by Blackwood's men. Her gaze roamed over to the lists, where a lone figure stood in proud defiance.
Blackwood.
The air suddenly felt thick and stifling, the tension was almost palpable. Clark dismounted, holding up a hand as a warning to Lana to stay back. She did, watching with her heart in her throat as Clark strode up to Blackwood with Ralph in tow.
"This ends today, Blackwood," he said levelly.
The other man merely gave a brief nod of acknowledgment. "I see you've brought my prize. 'Twill make it that much easier for me to collect her after you fall."
"You shall never have her," Clark vowed.
"We shall see about that." Blackwood's lips curved up in a humorless smile. "Now enough with the pleasantries, De Montclair. Let us begin."
Steel whistled through the air as both men drew their swords. Lana's breath hitched her throat as she observed Blackwood's sword, and released it in a whoosh upon seeing no glowing green pommel stone. Her relief was short-lived, however, as the clash of metal against metal brought home with full force what was happening here.
It seems like a dream, she thought in a daze, watching as the two men engaged in what was clearly a fight to the death. All for her. Their blades whizzed through the air in a silvery blur, clashing and clanging in a dance both captivating and deadly in its grace. Blackwood moved with an almost feline agility, clearly a seasoned fighter. But Clark held his own, driven by a force that went beyond pride or even self-preservation. Lana wondered briefly if he planned upon using his powers. She hoped he would, but she had the sneaking suspicion that he was far too chivalrous to claim victory in anything but a fair fight.
Would that she could say the same for Blackwood.
Clark and Blackwood's blades clashed and locked, their faces ending up inches apart. Blackwood smiled, eyes alight with a wicked gleam. "You're good, De Montclair. But can you hold your own against an expert swordsman?"
"Show me an expert swordsman and we'll see," Clark taunted. He dodged aside with lighting quickness and Blackwood moved in for another attack, recovering quickly and attacking the man's vulnerable side. Blackwood gasped as a red stain slowly spread across the left side of his tunic.
"I may not be an expert swordsman," Clark said, "but I know my strengths."
"Fencing is not merely technique," Blackwood retorted. "It's knowing your opponent. sensing his weakness. predicting his next move." He expertly blocked Clark's attack and lunged, catching the other man full in the side. Lana shrieked, her hands flying to her face. But to her shock, no spreading crimson stain appeared. In fact, Clark looked completely unharmed.
Blackwood stared, eyes wide. His mouth fell open but no sound came out, as his energies were immediately diverted when Clark lunged. He fought with a furious, almost frantic energy, taking full advantage of Blackwood's temporary confusion. He succeeded in driving the man back, attacking mercilessly, allowing his opponent no chance to breathe or regain his composure. Blackwood sensed himself losing ground, and fought valiantly to regain the upper hand. But his efforts were too little, too late, and it wasn't long before Clark succeeded in twisting his blade and disarming him.
"It ends now, Blackwood," he declared. "You shall leave the lady in peace. or I swear I will kill you."
"You should never have let me live, De Montclair," was the other man's response, his cool unfaltering despite his imminent defeat. What transpired next probably occurred in the span of a second or two, but the whole thing seemed to pass in sickening slow motion as Lana looked on. Before Clark could deal the final blow Blackwood reached into his belt, whipped out a dagger, and lunged. Lana caught the phosphorescent gleam of green and screamed, but it was already too late. She could only stare in horror as the dagger found its mark, and Clark staggered backward with an expression of shock and agony etched across his features.
Ralph rushed to his knight's side, but too late. Blackwood seized the opportunity to snatch up his sword. He raised it, pausing briefly to savor the moment before dealing the final blow. "No!" A feminine scream rent the air as metal crashed against metal, the force of the blow reverberating through Lana like an echo. Blackwood gazed in disbelief at the woman standing before him, her lover's sword clutched tightly in her small hands while her eyes burned with the fire of a fierce battle-maid.
"You took my family," she said, her voice dangerously low. "You took my home. You'll not take my love, my heart!"
Blackwood gave a contemptuous sniff. "You were part of the bargain, my lady," he said mockingly. "You are mine now."
"Never!" She brandished the sword threateningly. "As long as I've breath in my body, I shall never belong to you!"
"Foolish wench!" He advanced toward her, her eyes gleaming with deadly intent. "Think you can stop me?"
"You'll not kill me," she retorted. "You haven't the gall."
"Do not press your luck," he warned. "I've seen men beg for mercy before my blade. But you're right; I'd rather keep you alive long enough to wed you and perhaps sire an heir. You can come willingly, or I can make your life a living hell. Either way, I shall possess you."
"I belong to Kendrick alone," she shot back.
Rage burned in Blackwood's eyes, belying his finely honed veneer of cool. "I'm sure his final thoughts are with you as the life slowly drains from his body."
Galvanized into action, Lana backed warily away, still gripping the sword, before dropping to her knees next to Clark. Tears sprung to her eyes as a wave of nausea swept over her. Oh, God. there was so much blood, so much blood. it stained the skirt of her fine rose-colored gown as she bent over him, smoothed his hair back from his ashen forehead. Her vision blurred as the tears spilled over, one falling to his tunic and spreading in a small, dark stain.
"Don't leave me," she begged, her voice breaking. "Don't leave me alone, Kendrick. Clark."
He drew a ragged breath. "Lana. the knife.."
Her eye fell upon the dagger protruding from his stomach. "I can't take it out. You'll bleed to death."
He tried to say something else but she shook her head, tenderly touched her fingers to his lips. "Shhh. don't talk. It's OK." She tried to smile, tears falling freely down her cheeks. "I love you."
She bent down, pressed her lips to his. They felt cool and frail, barely a whisper of breath issuing from between them. Her tears fell onto his cheek, moistened the hand that she had pressed there. "You don't have to say anything," she whispered, her voice quavering. "I know."
She cradled him to her, reeling from the shock, positive that the wrenching, all-consuming pain within her was her heart breaking. I brought him here, she thought, unable to stop the tears. This is all my fault.
She saw the flicker of a shadow as Blackwood drew closer to her. Quick as a flash she snatched up the sword, pointing it at him. "Don't you come near me," she snarled. "You will burn in hell for what you've done this day!"
Blackwood shrugged. "If anyone is to blame for his death, 'tis you, my lady. Had you come to me without resistance, your lover would be alive now."
He never got to finish his thought. Lana was on her feet, slashing at him frantically, her eyes alight with grief and rage and hysteria. She managed to get a couple of good blows in before two of Blackwood's men arrived, seizing her and half-carrying, half-dragging her away from their lord. It took them a few moments to divest her of the sword, and not before she was able to do considerable damage. Ralph jumped wholeheartedly into the fray, but it wasn't long before Blackwood's men subdued him as well. But Lana refused to submit. Even with her weapon gone, she fought and kicked so ferociously her leather boot pierced one man's hose and actually drew blood.
Cursing violently, the knight twisted her arm behind her back until she cried out in pain. "Vile wench! God knows why you want her, my lord."
"She's a feisty one, isn't she?" Blackwood grinned triumphantly. "She will bear me strong sons."
"Murderous bastard!" she cursed. "Wretched whoreson! I shall do nothing of the kind!"
Blackwood sighed. "Will one of you please subdue her? I can't take this noise anymore."
Lana continued to fight and kick as one of her captors pressed a foul-smelling rag to her nose. But as much as she tried to resist, it wasn't long until dark spots danced before her eyes, spreading and spreading until she sank into darkness.
While the men were busy subduing the lady, Ralph saw his chance. He raised his foot and brought it down as hard as he could upon his captor's, whirling around in time to smack his palm against the underside of his captor's nose as hard as he could, just as Kendrick had taught him. The blow, the knight had said, would incapacitate a man long enough for him to run.
Which was precisely what he did. While his captor uttered a string or curses so foul Lucifer himself would have flinched, Ralph hightailed it into the woods. He ran and ran, twigs and leaves scratching his hands and face while he thrashed clumsily through the underbrush. Dimly he heard Blackwood saying, "Let him go. There's naught the whelp can do against us, anyway."
Ralph hid behind a tree, waiting as Blackwood's men carried the lady away. Tears of sorrow stung his pale blue eyes at the sight. He hadn't enough courage or strength to save the lady. Worse yet, he hadn't even been able to save his knight.
He raced back to the lists, kneeling beside Kendrick's fallen form. He began to cry hysterically then, wiping his tears with the sleeve his tunic while he bent over his fallen hero. "Sir Kendrick," he entreated. "If there is anything I can do. anything at all.."
The man in question drew a shallow breath, mustering all of his energy to say, "Ralph. the knife.."
"I know, I know," Ralph sobbed. "I'm so sorry. I tried to stop him. it all happened so quickly.."
He watched immobilized as Kendrick raised a trembling hand, weakly tried to grasp the hilt of the dagger. "The dagger."
Ralph finally understood. "If I take it out, you'll bleed to death."
"Just do it," Kendrick rasped. "Now."
The look in his eyes told Ralph not to argue. Gulping, the boy seized the hilt of the dagger and wrenched it free. Tossing it aside, he hunched over Kendrick once more. "I tried to help. really I did. but what could I do against all of his men.."
Blinking rapidly, Kendrick labored to raise his head. Ralph immediately moved to assist him. Strangely enough, the color was returning to the knight's face, and his breathing settled into a deeper, more regular pattern. When he looked up at the squire, his eyes had lost that glazed look and instead sparked with irritation. "By the saints, boy, are you daft?" he choked. His voice was still faint but rapidly growing in strength. "When I tell you to do something, you do it. I ought to tan your arse when we get home.."
"Sir Kendrick! You're all right!" Ralph threw his skinny arms about the knight's neck, nearly choking him.
"Blood of Christ, I can't breathe!"
"Sorry, sorry," said Ralph solicitously. His eye fell upon Kendrick's wound, which no longer seemed to be bleeding profusely. In fact, it didn't appear to be bleeding at all. "Amazing," he murmured. He regarded the knight with round eyes. "You really are a warlock, aren't you?"
Kendrick didn't answer. "Where did they take the lady?"
"I assume back to Blackwood. They subdued her, sir. Likely with hemlock or mandrake, judging by the smell of it.."
Kendrick's eyes opened wide. "Poison?"
"Nay, sir. just enough to make her sleep." Ralph looked bewildered. "Blackwood wouldn't kill her. He needs her alive, at least till he weds her."
Fury blazed in Kendrick's eyes upon hearing that. "I'm going after her."
"Wait!" Ralph scrambled to his feet, watching in amazement as the knight stood up. "Sir, you were just stabbed in the gut!"
"I'll be fine," Kendrick brushed him off. "Ralph, are you going to help me or not?"
The squire was still at a loss for words when the sound of hooves pounding the forest floor caught his attention. He and Kendrick looked up to see a golden palomino galloping through the forest, a woman astride it. At her back was Sir Pierce, riding a destrier.
"I got here as fast as I could," Lady Anne announced, pulling her mount to a halt. Her eyes widened upon beholding the knight. "Dear God, what happened to you?"
"Nothing a little dark magic can't fix," Kendrick said disingenuously. "I'm fine, Lady Anne. Right now, we need to find your kinswoman. Blackwood has kidnapped her!"
Lady Anne's odd-colored eyes darkened. "That God-cursed swine! 'Tis time for a good old fashioned arse-kicking, I say."
"Aye." A look of steely resolve came over Kendrick's face. "Shall we be off to Blackwood now?"
"Let us stop at the manor first for some weapons. We'll formulate a plan on the way."
"Sounds good to me." Kendrick made for his mount, not appearing injured at all.
"Are you sure you're all right?" the lady asked. "I insist upon seeing that wound."
"There's not much to see," said Kendrick awkwardly, but Anne would hear none of it. She dismounted and caught up with him, pausing to touch her hand to his blood-stained tunic. Her eyes widened as she lifted the fabric to reveal smooth, unbroken skin. "Holy sh--that is amazing."
"Are you really a warlock, sir?" asked Ralph in amazement.
"Don't go spreading it around. I've no intention of burning at the stake," Kendrick muttered, hastily stepping away from Anne. "Now are we going to stand here debating or are we going to rescue the lady?"
Anne nodded, heading back toward her mount. "We've lost enough time as it is. Let's go."
She swung astride her mount while Kendrick and Ralph quickly followed suit. The squire could only stare in confusion at the knight as they galloped through the forest, unable to digest the events of this morning. Kendrick truly was everything they said him to be a fearless fighter, superhuman in his abilities.
Ralph only hoped it was enough to rescue the lady before it was too late.