Back from the Shadowlands, page 6
Glancing up at Lionel, Alexandria shook her head in disbelief. While he didn’t openly contradict her, she saw the truth in his eyes. He didn’t think she should lead a search party for whatever reason. Most likely because he didn’t think she could handle what they found. Nothing could be farther from the truth and he needed to get over his need to protect her from the truth.
“You might as well get that look off your face. I won’t stand around while my husband is missing so you best forget the words hovering on your lips. I won’t listen to whatever you wish to say nor will I stay here while Thor is God only knows where enduring God only knows what.”
Hearing that determined lilt in her voice, Lionel knew this was an argument he couldn’t win. Nor did he want to. While he didn’t like Alexandria being out there with only two men to protect her; he knew as well that nothing would deter her from participating in the search.
He would feel the same way in her shoes. While his lady hadn’t been to battle since the twins were born, she hit the training yard regularly. From what he’d seen, she was still in fine fighting form. If knowing that wasn’t enough to reassure him, he had no right or reason to interfere with her plans. Only the not-so-secret desires of his heart that everyone wisely chose to ignore.
“Then I’ll get the men together while you change.” He already had eight loyal, discrete warriors in mind. “Zan, we will find Thor. You have my word.” While spoken with confidence, Lionel prayed he wasn’t making empty promises. “We will.”
“If we don’t?” Alexandria stood her ground. At this point, empty promises were meaningless. “He may be dead.”
That was possible, even probable, given the amount of blood coating that saddle. They both knew that.
“He isn’t.” Lionel firmly believed she would know if that were true. “But if we’re wrong, you will be fine.”
The love in his eyes conveyed he’d make sure of it. Resisting the urge to walk into his arms and take the comfort he offered, Alexandria opened her chamber door instead. Knowing he was dismissed Lionel silently stopped to rest his hand on her arm.
“I’ll get everyone ready to leave while you change.” Then he would order Loki saddled. “We’ll meet in the bailey when you’re ready.”
Alexandria nodded as she closed the door behind him. Saying a silent prayer they found Thor in time, she quickly donned a long black tunic, black leggings, and the black boots she usually wore in the training yard. Touching the embroidered wolf rampant on her tunic, she heard her husband’s laughter in her head.
He’d been greatly amused that she so openly labeled the lady of Drummond his when she’d displayed her latest creation a few weeks ago. Her saucy response was that she’d not labeled herself his, but rather labeled the Golden Wolf hers. That had amused him even more. Closing her eyes, she recalled the tender seduction that followed before exiting her fantasy.
Fastening her belt around her waist, she sheathed her sword and the familiar jewel-handled dirk in their scabbards before adding her throwing knives to the eclectic mix of weaponry hanging from her waist and lurking in easy grab pockets throughout her attire. She’d much prefer having Avenger at her side, but that wasn’t possible. She lacked the size and strength to wield the weapon effectively so the sword would stay safely locked away in their weapons trunk.
Taking a moment to contemplate her hair, she decided to leave well enough alone. The intricate coils and plaits would work as well as a tucked braid to deter anyone from grabbing her hair. Fastening her mantle, she bounced down the stairs, not surprised to find Reina lurking near the bottom step.
“You’re doing this?” Reina shook her head over her cousin’s revealing attire. “Lionel said you were, but I didn’t believe him.”
“Believe him.” Alexandria rested her hands on her cousin’s arms. “I can’t sit around here waiting impatiently for my men to return.”
“Are you ready for this?” Her cousin was surprisingly calm. “Truly ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Huffing, Alexandria’s response was honest. “As ready as anyone can be.”
“What if you find what you don’t wish to find?” They both knew that was a possibility. “What no one wishes to find.”
“Then I’ll bring my husband home,” As she had with her father and brothers a lifetime ago. “And do what must be done.”
“You are stronger than I.” They both knew she would fall apart if anything happened to Lionel. That was one reason Alexandria walked away so long ago. Though she’d loved Lionel with a young girl’s love, she’d known her cousin loved him more. “I don’t think I could stand it if anything happened to Lionel.”
“Perhaps.” Alexandria knew Reina was stronger than she believed. “However, I have no choice. Thor expects me to bring him home.”
Whether riding a horse or draped over his saddle.
“Yes, he does.” Reina agreed. “Just as he would find you.”
“He would.” Alexandria smiled softly. “We’ll return before nightfall. Pray we don’t return without our lord. Preferably among us in the land of the living.”
“I will.” Reina nodded already planning to gather the women in the chapel for an afternoon of prayer along with Father Eustace. “I’ll also watch over the cubs and keep everyone calm.”
While she might not be good warrior stock, she excelled at keeping the household on track when their lady was away. Her reliability was her contribution to her family, people, and home.
“I can’t ask for anything more.” Alexandria hugged Reina. “I’ll see you in a few hours. We all will.”
Turning, Alexandria walked out the open doors into the bailey. Glancing at the men congregating in groups, she decided Lionel had done well. There wasn’t anyone she was uncomfortable with participating in the search party. Instead, she thought he’d chosen exceptionally well as the men had already fallen in line with the partners they worked best with.
“Lionel, take Aymer and Gamelin and head South. Lowrans and Odart, you’re with me heading East. Johnne and Adamnán, you’re with Eaun going West. Colban, you take Ludan and Hendrie through the North country. Search as far and wide as possible before nightfall and return home before dark. I don’t want to send parties out after you.”
“Yes, my lady.” Colban motioned for Ludan and Hendrie to swing into the saddle. “We’ll return before dark hopefully with our lord between us.”
Alexandria nodded knowing that none of them expected to bring Thor home uninjured. Nothing about that idea made sense. He would already be home if he were not hurt or worse. She knew also that no hostages were kept in this truce between David and Stephen. Lionel told her so.
Instead, each side left the battle with their armies intact knowing they would return home only to fight again another day. While her godfather’s victory wasn’t as decisive as they’d hoped, he seized valuable land with valuable keeps for the Scottish crown. How long he would keep either remained to be seen.
The next skirmish would decide whether they were moving two steps forward or ten steps back. It always did. The two kings had honed land grabs back and forth between the two counties to a fine art as had the kings before them and as would the kings after them as well. None of that mattered right now.
What mattered was Thor should have returned right before or right after his men. He hadn’t. Since he’d helped the king plan the battle, her godfather had no cause to detain him at Court after the treaty was signed. He knew her husband was anxious to return home and that she was anxious for his return. There was no good reason for Thor’s continued absence. Caturix’s sudden appearance confirmed her fears.
Watching Colban and his men exit the bailey, Alexandria watched Eaun follow. Falling in line she knew Lionel and his men would take up the rear. Once they were well without the gates, each team would head in their assigned direction. While going North of Drummond made little sense, she knew Colban would guide his team more Northwesterly than actual North. That did make sense.
Then again, it wasn’t impossible Thor had decided to check in with a neighboring lord in an official capacity. Nor was it impossible that he was helping a wounded lord home. He had done both in the past. However, she didn’t think that was true this time, not with that bloodied saddle. That had a far more ominous feel.
One she didn’t want to contemplate. Alexandria urged Loki towards the coast, motioning for her men to follow. Perhaps Thor had stopped at a keep for help and their messenger had yet to reach Drummond. While plausible, she wasn’t holding her breath on that one either.
CHAPTER NINE
Leaning against the wall in hopelessness, the warrior contemplated falling from his saddle all those weeks ago. Bleeding profusely, he’d prayed his mount escaped the fray and made his way to the royal keep. If he did his bloodied saddle would tell the tale that none of them might live to share. If he failed no one would ever know of the betrayal. Fifteen good men would disappear off the face of the earth as their attackers wanted.
Growling to himself, the prisoner recalled that day with renewed hate. Outmanned and overwhelmed, he’d lain on the hard ground hovering on the edge of consciousness. While his eyes were closed and his body limp his other senses were highly engaged. Tapping into the same sensory efficiency a sightless person used to map their environment he had a fair grasp of everything and everyone around him.
“Locate any of these fools unfortunate enough to linger and load them up.” From the grunts and groans around him, he’d realized he wasn’t the only man to survive the attack. Though not likely for long from the man’s cruel laughter. “Tate and Bescomb will appreciate having new toys.”
Although his heart rate accelerated in recognition the more the brute talked, he remained limp. The one mark in his favor was he knew this man by his voice, but the monster didn’t know him. One of Stephen’s less scrupulous minions, Ricard de Vescy was a soulless bastard known for his pointless cruelty and treacherous ways. Feeling his body lifted and tossed over a horse’s back, he’d known they were nowhere near the nightmare’s end. He was right. Nothing had changed in the weeks since.
Watching Bescomb and Tate lock the bloody, brutalized body back in his manacles, the golden-haired giant hung his head in sorrow. Gervaise was naught but a boy. A handsome, courageous, silver-haired boy recently knighted who would have become a fine warrior in time. Ever valiant, he'd known nothing of the king’s plans.
Why should he? He was but a fledgling warrior intoxicated by the excitement of war. He knew nothing of the gore, the stench, or the cries of dying men. Or he hadn’t before now. He should be home with his family celebrating his bravery and the king’s victories instead of drowning painfully in his blood.
Tate and Bescomb had taken malicious pleasure in beating the youngest member of their party to death bruise by painful bruise, break by painful break, over the last weeks until he’d finally reached the end of his endurance. If he didn’t miss his guess, and he didn’t, the boy would succumb to his injuries in a short while. He suspected the final beating shattered a rib that pierced his lung and sealed his fate. He’d know the moment his spirit departed his body by those final shuddering rattles.
Closing his eyes, the man lamented being one of only three still living. Nine of their party perished outright in the ambush. Two died within the first week from their injuries while another lingered a few agonizing days before infection claimed his life. A third warrior he didn’t know succumbed to starvation two weeks ago and Gervaise was drawing his final ragged breaths if those wet gasps were any indication.
He knew the torturers would go for Theobald next. The demons preyed on the weakest link and Teddy was it. Not that the poor fool knew anything. He didn’t. He hadn’t before. He knew even less caught in the thrall of madness. The warrior knew he was fortunate the trolls had ceased to torment him a while back. There was no pleasure in whipping a man who made no sound.
Truthfully, he had no sound to make. Not anything they wanted to hear. He’d quickly learned the moans, groans, and cries of his fellow prisoners did nothing to ease their suffering. Begging for mercy made the torture worse. Even had he been a man to make those sounds, he wouldn’t have. He learned from others’ mistakes.
Besides, how could he tell them anything? He didn’t know his name. He’d realized that soon after his fever finally broke a while back. Nor did he know the names of his companions. He’d learned a few from the brief snatches of conversations he’d overheard the last few weeks.
There hadn’t been an opportunity to get acquainted before the attack. No, there had been. They’d preferred to ride hell for leather toward home instead. There would be time for small talk over a light repast of bread and cheese while their horses rested. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for him, everyone who knew his identity died outright. Or he hoped they had. Closing his eyes in weariness, the man waited for an end not yet come.
ONE WEEK LATER
Eyes adjusting to the inkiness around him, Thor knew it was night. Faint glimmers of light penetrated his prison during the daylight hours which added a deeper dimension to the impenetrable darkness once the sun went down. A dimension filled with unsettling creatures and sounds.
While common sense told him this torment was but the skittering and gnawing of rats and the slithering of snakes or newts, he understood why Theobald lost his mind long before they suspended him in that cage. Suggestion was a powerful tool in the hands of the enemy. It was an effective weapon he’d used many times to his advantage. Immobile within his newest prison, his final companion expired in a torrent of spit, gibberish, and bodily fluids on the third day.
While Theobald’s passing wasn’t unexpected, the added stench of rotting flesh grew oppressive within hours of his death. His passing signaled as well that as the only surviving prisoner, the torturers would come for him next. His only option was to escape or die.
Thor would have known that with or without his memory. This wasn’t his first sojourn in hell’s hostel. He doubted it would be his last. However, being surrounded by rotting corpses wasn’t healthy mentally or physically, so it was time to go. Knowing who and what he was had given him an edge he didn’t have even a day ago.
Overhearing the guards discussing a breach in the walls that couldn’t be repaired for days energized him in ways he hadn’t been since his capture. Just knowing there was a window of escape gave him hope. Rising to his feet, Thor carefully pulled against his manacles.
Ignoring the sting of metal grating flesh, he slowly worked both hands out of the restraints as quietly as possible. While he lamented the agony of shredding skin, he appreciated the slick lubrication of blood against iron. Grateful his guardians no longer found it necessary to bind his ankles, he carefully stepped away from the wall glad to be free.
Heading towards the breach, Thor used his hands to guide him along the lichen and nitre-encrusted tunnel ignoring the feel of slime beneath his palms. Snorting at the skitter of rats running over his feet and the slithering of snakes and newts nearby, he continued through the darkness praying for the faintest shimmer of light to illuminate the opening before his strength was gone.
Sliding down the wall he rolled over to drag his body along the floor stopping every few feet to catch his breath. While a lesser man might find his condition shameful, this wasn’t the first time he’d propelled himself across the rocky ground on his belly, usually through far more unpleasant substances than filthy groundwater and sewage.
Hanging his head and leaning against the wall to rest, he caught the faintest glimmer of light from the corner of his eye. Taking a few deep breaths, Thor summoned a fresh wave of strength from deep within his gut. Forcing his legs to support him, he dragged himself along the wall to the edge of the jagged break.
From the debris littering the massive hole, it was evident the ground had given away beneath a section of the inner wall due to underground instabilities easily detected by a good engineer. It was equally apparent that step was bypassed here. Knowing de Vescy was either too arrogant to use the services of good engineers or too shallow in the coffers to hire them would play in his favor down the road.
Slipping through the breach, Thor flattened himself against the wall blending easily into the shadows. Scoping the guards milling about, he realized no one considered the breach of an inner wall a liability. Even a breach accessible to the prisoners languishing in the dungeon.
Oh, that’s right, the only prisoner still alive was on his last leg. Barely breathing much less moving the last time he was seen. Since there was no danger from that quarter guards near the breach weren’t necessary. While a common mistake, it wasn’t one he would have made. If there was one thing he knew, it was the little things one ignored that came back to bite one on the arse. He’d learned that lesson early on.
Noting the guards playing dice and being lax in their duties, Thor slipped along the wall a few feet at a time until he reached the outer wall. As he expected, there was a small breach in the corner yet to be detected. Again, another breach suddenly appearing not far from the first break wasn’t unexpected either.
Mistakes were made in constructing the keep that compromised the foundations. He’d noted that from his prison cell. However, he never expected to use those errors to his advantage. While it was unlikely his captor knew of this latest breach, he would learn soon after daybreak on the morrow.
Stopping to glance at his wrists and hands he was pleased to see he was no longer bleeding and the ground water had washed the last of the blood away. Satisfied he wouldn’t leave telltale droplets behind to give his route away, Thor slipped through a crack he would have never fit through at his most robust. Literal skin and bones were another matter.
Flattening himself against the wall yet again, he listened to the talk above him. He needed to pinpoint where each sentry was to the best of his ability while he edged ever closer to the clump of trees nearest the keep. While it was a cloudy night, being seen weaving across the open land between the keep and the cover of brush was the last thing he wanted to happen.
