A Dark Champion

by Kinley MacGregor

  And Damien's power.

  "I've come to ask a favor of you, milord."

  He turned toward her then. Rowena could see nothing of his face or form. His thick cloak held him completely concealed from her. Even his hands were covered by dark gray gloves.

  There was something so commanding about his presence that it sent a shiver over her.

  "And what is this favor you would ask of me, milady?"

  "You are to fight Stryder of Blackmoor on the—"

  He let out a hiss so hate-filled that it made her jump and succeeded in cutting off her words immediately.

  "Forgive me, Rowena. May I call you Rowena?"

  Her heart hammering, she nodded.

  He moved to stand just before her so that he towered over her slight frame. She had a feeling he did it just to intimidate her and it worked much better than she would have liked.

  Damien lifted his gloved hand up to her chin and then tilted her head so that she was looking up into the merest of outlines hidden beneath the folds of his cowl.

  "You are beautiful," he breathed. "I can see why he took you."

  "I beg your pardon?"

  "Never beg, Rowena. 'Tis degrading."

  She tried to pull away, but he grabbed her arm and held her near him.

  He laughed darkly at her efforts to free herself. "It won't do you any good to fight me, Rowena. I know all about you and that bastard. What the two of you did this morning while you thought yourselves safe in his cell. Who do you think had Henry separate you two even while Eleanor argued against it?"

  She froze at his words. "I don't know what you mean."

  His grip tightened. "Of course you do. No doubt you dream of feeling him inside you again even while you look at me."

  She struggled to free herself of his oppressive grip. How dare he handle her so!

  And yet he was one step away from two powerful thrones. No one would ever question anything this man did.

  "Sh," he said quietly. His touch turned from forceful to soothing. "Forgive me for my manners. I don't normally attack women, I promise you. " 'Tis just that my anger at your earl knows no bounds. The mere mention of his name…"

  He released her so suddenly that she actually stumbled away from him.

  Sadness engulfed the man. He seemed to deflate right before her eyes. "Ask me for no mercy or quarter where that man is concerned, Rowena. I have spent far too many hours of my life wishing him dead."

  "Why? What has he ever done to you?"

  He didn't answer. Instead, he spoke with a deadly calm that sent a chill over her. "Your secret is safe with me, milady. I will tell no one what I know of the two of you. But I would ask one small price for my silence."

  She braced herself for more cruelty. "And that is?"

  He waited several minutes before he spoke and when he did his tone was so low that she barely heard it.

  "If you still believe in God, then say a prayer for me. He turned a deaf ear to my pleas long ago."

  Rowena couldn't have been more stunned.

  "Guards," Damien called out loud.

  The door outside opened instantly.

  "Take the lady and see her safely to her uncle."

  "But milord—"

  "Nay, Rowena," he said coldly. "Tomorrow God himself will decide the fate of the man. I only hope that I am the instrument that finally rids this earth of his pestilence."

  Rowena hardly slept at all. The entire night was spent with her turning about in bed as Damien and his hatred roiled through her.

  Did Stryder know whom he was to fight? Had someone maliciously told him?

  What would he do? But then she knew. He would never kill a man he blamed himself for hurting.

  Rowena woke up just before the sun did, along with her ladies-in-waiting. They, too, had spent a restless night, and like the rest of the court, they wanted to bear witness to Lord Stryder's trial.

  Rowena rushed to get to the list, but while her women took a place in the stands that had been set up for the tournament, she snuck around the back to Stryder's tent, where the earl had been taken to suit himself up in his armor.

  There were more than a dozen guards set around the tent and as she approached, the captain stopped her.

  "He's to have no visitors."

  "Please," she implored him beseechingly. "I only wish one word with him."

  "Have a heart, Boswell," another guard said. "The man could very well die this morning."

  The captain debated.

  "Let her in for a moment," another one prompted. "He's only got a few minutes more before they start. Let him leave this world with the memory of a fair maid's face."

  The captain's features turned stern as he looked at her. "Only a moment, so you'd best be quick about it."

  Rowena gave him a chaste kiss on his grizzled cheek before she dashed into the tent.

  She pulled up sharply.

  Stryder stood with his back to her while Kit tightened the laces on his mail cuirass. She'd never seen two men look more dour.

  "I still say you should have taken Christian up on his offer to run."

  "I will not run, Kit, you know that. I can take any French champion."

  Kit glanced past Stryder to see her. He paused, then released his brother.

  Stryder turned, and at the moment their gazes locked, she felt a cold shock go through her.

  Kit stepped between them. "He doesn't know it's Damien." The words were mouthed to her.

  Rowena crossed herself and hoped that Damien's armor would shield him so that Stryder never learned who it was he faced.

  "I'll wait outside," Kit said, leaving them alone.

  Rowena was overwhelmed to see Stryder looking remarkably fit and awake so early. Before she could stop herself, she threw herself into his arms and held him close.

  Stryder closed his eyes and inhaled the sweet scent of Rowena's hair. For the first time in his life, he hated the mail armor that kept him from feeling her soft curves that were pressed up against him.

  All night long, all he had done was dream of her. Dream of tasting her lips, feeling her hands on his flesh.

  Now he wasted no time in dipping his head down to capture that mouth that had haunted his sleep. He growled at the taste of her, at the feel of her hand clutching his hair.

  He ran his hands down her back, letting his palms cup and press her closer to him. He wanted inside her so badly that it was all he could do not to rip the armor from his body and take her.

  But there wasn't enough time for that.

  "Sweetest Rowena," he murmured against her lips. "Thank you for coming."

  Rowena felt tears prick her eyes at his words. "Did you think I wouldn't?"

  "I didn't think they would allow it."

  She scoffed at him. "Since when do I follow the dictates of others?"

  He laughed at that and squeezed her so tight that she yelped.

  "Forgive me?"

  She nodded, then pulled one of the ribbons from her hair.

  "What are you doing?" he asked as she moved to wrap it around his biceps.

  "A token for you, milord. One to bring you good luck."

  He was humbled by her offering. "You who have no regard for war would offer me such?"

  She looked up, her gaze searing and sincere. "Aye, Stryder. I would see justice done this morning, and you free so that you can give me my choice of husband."

  He grunted at that. "And here I thought you had a more nobler reason for your actions."

  She reached up and placed her hand to his cheek. "I am but teasing you. I want nothing to happen to you this day. If you should happen to die, I fear I would be most put out."

  "Not nearly as much as I would be," he teased back. "Besides, I keep telling everyone that I hold no fear. I have no equal on the field."

  Someone cleared their throat.

  Rowena glanced over her shoulder to see the captain standing in the entrance. " 'Tis time."

  Stryder inclined his head. He started away, b
ut before he could take a step, Rowena pulled him back toward her.

  She kissed him quickly on the lips. "I wish you the strength of Hercules."

  He lifted her hand to his lips and placed a tender kiss on her palm. "I will see you anon."

  Rowena nodded as the captain came forward to lead him toward the list.

  She followed behind the men, then took her own place among her ladies in the stands.

  "There you are," Elizabeth said as she took a seat beside her. "We had begun to fear something had happened to you."

  Stryder entered the list, which was surrounded by archers in the event that he decided to run. Not that he would, but 'twas customary under the circumstances.

  Two swords were being held by heralds in the center of the list. All he waited on was the appearance of the French champion to challenge him.

  He almost laughed at the thought.

  But then his humor died the instant he saw his opponent take the field. In fact, his entire body went cold at the sight of the royal French coat of arms over the gold mail armor. Even though the man's face was covered by his great helm, he knew him in an instant.

  It was Damien St. Cyr.

  Stryder cursed.

  "That sentiment is entirely mutual," Damien growled as he stopped before him.

  Stryder longed to curse fate again. How could Henry have done this to him?

  "Don't do this, Damien. We were friends once, you and I."

  "And now we are enemies. It's strange how fate turns, isn't it?" Damien reached for his sword.

  "I don't consider you my enemy."

  Damien tossed Stryder the other sword. "Then you're a fool and quite deserving of your death."

  At the same instant Stryder caught his sword, Damien lunged at him. Stryder barely had time to parry the thrust and spin away from him.

  "Don't make me hurt you, Damien. I've no desire to see any more pain placed upon your shoulders."

  Damien roared as he attacked with the fury and power of ten men.

  Stryder had to actually work to keep the knight from hurting him—a true rarity. Damien hadn't studied much during the years since they had been friends. Back in those days, the boy had been free-spirited and fun-loving.

  His parents' youngest child, Damien had been doted on by both of them as well as his older sister, Alix.

  Even though barely a year separated their ages, Stryder had always thought of Damien as a young brother in need of protection.

  But the man before him was nothing like the boy he'd known. This Damien was angry and bitter. His rage glittered like ice in the greenish-gold depths of the eyes that glared out at Stryder from the slits in Damien's helm.

  Stryder had no idea what the Saracens had done to Damien, but it was obvious they hadn't just held him kindly for ransom as Damien had said they would.

  Damien kicked at Stryder's leg, then slashed at his head.

  Stryder barely dodged the killing blow.

  Damien dropped his sword, grabbed him by his surcoat and slung him into the low railing that segregated their area from the spectators.

  Stryder let go of his own sword as they fought hand to hand. This wasn't the combat Henry had intended. To Damien it was personal.

  And it made Stryder's heart ache. He'd tried many times to speak to his old friend over the past few years only to have Damien's men refuse.

  "I never meant for you to be hurt," Stryder said.

  Damien growled low and deep like an animal in pain before he slammed his fist down on his shoulder.

  Stryder took the blow without flinching.

  "Don't you dare be sanctimonious with me, you bastard. I promise you I'm not leaving this field until I bathe in your blood."

  "Is that what you want?" Stryder asked as he dodged another blow. "Is that what it'll take to set the past right again?" He pulled his helm from his head and stared at his friend. "I still consider you my brother, Damien."

  Damien backhanded him across the face.

  Stryder staggered back as he tasted the blood on his lips. Licking the metallic taste, he righted himself.

  "Fight me, damn you."

  Stryder shook his head. "I don't wish to fight you."

  Damien cocked his head at that, then turned to retrieve his sword. When he again faced Stryder, the coldness of his gaze chilled him.

  "Very well then," Damien said. "But before I kill you and you go down in the scribe's rolls as a convicted murderer, allow me to tell you one thing."

  "And that is?"

  "I know the boy you broke your promise to in Outremer. Aquarius."

  Stryder went cold at the news. "How do you know that name?" A sick feeling went through him. "You?"

  Damien laughed at his question. "I should have been so lucky. Nay, I was never he, but I knew much about him. I could hear his screams on the nights when they tortured him after you and your Brotherhood left him behind. I heard his curses and his prayers for death."

  Stryder couldn't breathe as pain consumed him. "He was dead when I left."

  "Nay," Damien said with an evil note of glee in his voice, "he was not. He lived. In fact, he lives still and he hates you and all your Brotherhood who left him behind to suffer. He hates you even more than I do. Every time they beat him, he cursed you and swore he would see you dead."

  "You're lying to me."

  Damien shook his head and Stryder held the distinct feeling that his former friend took a great deal of pleasure from the pain he gave him. "If you doubt me, ask your brother for the truth."

  Stryder frowned. "Kit? What has he to do with this?"

  "Kit is Aquarius, you fool."

  So stunned by the news, Stryder barely saw the stab wound coming. He moved to the side, but not fast enough to keep the blade from gashing his ribs.

  Bellowing in rage, he rolled away from Damien and seized his sword.

  Rowena rose to her feet as she saw Stryder wounded. The crowd around her all held a collective breath. No one had ever wounded the earl before. No one. Unlike the others, she knew why Stryder didn't fight with all his strength, but when he seized his sword and turned on Damien, she realized something had changed.

  There was no longer any sympathy on Stryder's face. Only a rage so potent that even from her distance, it scared her.

  Stryder attacked Damien like a man possessed.

  Damien fought back, but it was useless. With one sweeping attack, Stryder unbalanced his opponent and had Damien flat on his back in the dirt.

  Rowena drew in a sharp breath as Stryder made to kill the prince.

  Then, just as she was certain the blade would pierce his heart, Stryder deflected it and buried it in the earth.

  He kept his foot soundly on Damien's chest, pinning him to the ground.

  "Sire?" Stryder's voice rang out in the early morning mist. "I have defeated your champion. I have no desire to kill a man to prove my innocence. I have never taken a life coldly and I've no wish to begin doing so now."

  Henry nodded his head in approval. "Indeed, Lord Stryder. You have proven yourself merciful. Let no one else question your guilt in the murders. Release Our cousin and let Us see him tended."

  There was no need. The instant Stryder removed his foot, Damien came to his feet and charged the earl.

  Henry ordered his men to break them apart.

  "This isn't finished!" Damien snarled as Henry's men pulled him away.

  Stryder took a ragged breath as Rowena rushed toward him. Her heart racing, she wanted to throw herself into his arms and kiss him all over his face until they both fell on the ground. Only the knowledge that the entire crowd of nobles watched them prevented it. "Your needs be tended, milord."

  His own men and Kit quickly joined them.

  "Thank God you came to your senses," Christian said as he embraced Stryder briefly and pounded him on the back. "I was afraid you were about to let him kill you."

  Stryder held a strange look on his face as he turned toward Kit. He searched Kit's gaze as if he were meeting a
stranger.

  "Is anything amiss?" Kit asked.

  "I…" Stryder shook his head as if to clear it. "I needs be taken back to my tent."

  They all surrounded Stryder, shielding him from the stunned crowd, and led him back to his quarters. But though they were all relieved and happy, Stryder appeared less than pleased by his victory.

  Rowena and Zenobia exchanged concerned looks while the men congratulated Stryder and shoved each other like playful children who had won a victory.

  She and Zenobia waited outside the tent while Christian and the other men helped strip the armor from Stryder.

  As soon as Stryder was free of his armor, he grabbed a clean linen and held it to his side to help staunch the flow of blood while Christian poured him a goblet of ale. His friends were asking him questions, but to be honest, he heard none of it.

  All he could hear was Damien's accusation.

  Hear the sound of Aquarius's voice through the walls as the boy cried for someone to help him.

  Then he saw Damien's face the day they had fought.

  "Who do you think you are to lead us? I'm the son of kings and I am born to it."

  After the death of their overlord and his knight, there had been six of them left behind to find their way from Outremer to France. Raven, as the youngest, had been ten-and-three, but luckily he was tall enough to pass for an older boy. The rest of them had been two and three years older than Raven.

  To this day, Stryder wished he'd given the reins of leadership over to Damien when Damien had demanded them. But too young and vain himself, he had refused.

  So Damien had left with two of their company to seek his own way. Like a fool, Stryder had gone after him with Raven and Simon in tow to bring them back.

  And they had all ended up taken.

  Because he was a fool.

  Now he saw that day clearly. The sun had been blistering over the dunes as they were fought down and taken. Bloodied and beaten, they had been forced to their knees in the hot sand. The Saracens had tied their arms behind them.

  Damien's eyes had been filled with hatred as he glared at Stryder.

  "Tell no one who you are," Stryder had said between clenched teeth. "If they learn your pedigree, they will make you suffer for it."