She heard a ‘whizzing’ sound and recoiled instinctively, panic and fear nearly freezing her limbs. Damien pulled her on.
They reached the rocks and Damien pushed Aurora between the two large boulders, placing his body before her. The archer would have a clear shot only if he swam the river and shot an arrow at them from the other side.
Aurora heard Imp neighing nervously and looked around the boulder. The mare lowered itself to the ground and rested on its bent legs. Blood trickled from the arrow wound. The arrow didn’t appear to have punctured major organs.
Imp tried to pull free of his reins but couldn’t get away. The warhorse didn’t stand a chance trapped out in the open.
Damien lifted his foot and reached into his boot to pull out a dagger.
Something on Damien’s thigh caught Aurora’s gaze. It looked like a rip in his dark leggings, but it shone with wetness. She reached out to touch the material. His leggings were torn with a small slash. She gasped as her fingers came away wet and stained red. “You are hurt!”
“I’m all right,” he growled. “Leave it be.” He glanced at the struggling horse and raised the dagger.
Aurora gasped in alarm and caught at his arm. “Don’t hurt him!” she cried, fearing he meant to kill Imp so the animal would not be a distraction to her.
Damien tugged his arm free of her hold and flung the dagger. The blade twirled end over end as it raced through the air. He hit the mark dead on, cutting through the rope binding the horse to the tree.
Imp backed up a few steps from the tree, reared and then bounded away through the clearing.
Aurora breathed a sigh of relief. The reprieve quickly died as she realized their escape would not be as easy. How could they get back to the castle with an assassin in the forest? Her fingers closed over Damien’s strong arm, holding him tightly. The assassin was probably hiding somewhere in the brush, waiting for the best time to strike. Or was he repositioning himself for another shot? Damien had no weapon to fight him. His sword lay out of reach on the rock, useless.
Aurora lifted her gaze to Damien. He was looking around, searching the area. His eyes were so focused, so intense. She knew he would save her. As he had the other times. The thought seemed to settle her nerves, to calm her.
Suddenly, the mare gave out a loud neigh. Aurora peered around the rock to see the horse go stiff and fall over onto her side. Dead. Aurora stared in shock. There was not much blood. Why would the mare have died so quickly?
A chill went up her spine and her eyes widened. Poison. Her gaze shifted to Damien’s wound. “Damien,” she gasped, fear and dread slithering its way to her heart. “The mare is dead.”
Damien looked at her, then at the animal. He slowly glanced down at his wound. When he looked back at Aurora, concern lit his eyes. “Wait here,” he told her. “I’m going to try to move up the stream and get around whoever’s trying to kill us. Stay here.”
Sheer black fright swept through her. In her mind’s eye, she saw shadows come alive and black, black eyes. “No,” she whispered. “Damien…”
He looked down at her, giving her a reassuring grin. “Do you really think I could leave you for long?”
Her body trembled with apprehension and she threw her arms around him, holding him fiercely. Tears rose in her eyes. A well of fear and grief consumed her. Damien could be dying! Even now, poison could be rushing through him. How could he fight poisoned arrows from a hidden assassin? How could he fight the poison already in his body? This was an enemy no fighting skills could defend against.
Damien pulled away and cupped her chin, lifting her face. “No one will hurt you,” he promised and stepped away from her. He turned, crouching low. He moved toward the stream, practically crawling through the grass and dirt to get there. Once at the bank, he moved into the water, barely making a ripple. Then, he was gone, out of her sight.
Aurora pushed herself deeper into the alcove the rocks made. Around the rocks, sunlight filtered through the leaves to throw long shadows across the leaf-cluttered ground.
Just like your mother, a voice inside her whispered. You weren’t smart enough. You weren’t kind enough. Now, someone wants to kill you. You are just like your mother.
In her mind, it was a different time. A different place. It was dark and she was a child again. Her mother had pulled her back to the mill, her grip tight on her wrist. It was so dark, so many shadows sheltering the horror of her past. She wasn’t scared then. But she was terrified now. She tried to push the memory from her mind, but it refused to be swept aside. One of the shadows moved, separating from other shadows. A silver flash. She looked up. The shadow had eyes! Dark, dark eyes. Evil eyes.
“Can Damien come out to play?”
Aurora looked up, shaken, unsure for a moment whether she was in the past or the present.
A darkness shifted and moved across the rock. Aurora gasped. A big man stood before her, blocking her escape. His bald head reflected the muted sunlight. His large fist wrapped around a sword, the blade flashing a hot silver.
Blinded by memories, she shivered, a sob escaping her lips.
He smiled; a gap in his front teeth let his tongue stick through the hole. Her gaze slid from the dirty white of his grin to his dark, dark eyes. In her mind, she saw different eyes. Both eyes held pure evil, but these eyes were different. The man standing before her wasn’t the same man. He wasn’t the man who had killed her mother. That knowledge pushed down her fear and gave Aurora a surging, desperate hope. She lifted her hands, shoving him hard with all her might.
It was like pushing rock. He didn’t budge, didn’t move. He grabbed her hand, pulling her out into the open. “Aw,” the man sneered. “Damien’s left ya all alone. Always knew he was a fool.” Aurora kicked at his shins, pummeled him with her other hand.
“It’s time for me to end this game.” He lifted his sword.
Aurora opened her mouth and screamed in horror.
Chapter Seventeen
Damien hurled himself at the assassin, knocking him away from Aurora. He grappled with the man, rolling over again and again across the ground, their arms locked in a deadly embrace. Finally, Damien planted his foot, bringing them to a halt. He grabbed the assassin’s sword hand and banged it hard against the ground. How dare he touch Aurora? He delivered a stunning blow to the man’s smug face. Then, he pounded the assassin’s hand against the ground again. Once, twice, three times.
Grimacing, the assassin opened his hand, releasing the sword. Damien pummeled the assassin’s face with a series of punches. His anger knotted like a rope inside him. How dare he threaten Aurora’s life? He smashed the man’s face again. Blood erupted from the assassin’s nose.
Damien lifted his fist for another blow. Recognition tickled the cobwebs of his memory, but he did not stop. He hit the assassin again.
The man groaned.
Damien raised his fist again.
The man snarled a toothless grimace. He was missing his two front teeth.
Damien froze, his fist lifted; his gaze swept the assassin’s face. He recognized him. The bald man in the stairwell. The man he suspected killed Marie, the servant girl who gave the poisoned wine to Aurora. He could have stopped him in the stairwell. He could have…
The man’s eyes blazed liquid hatred at Damien. “The bitch should be dead by now,” the man spat at him and reached his hand out for his weapon.
Damien snarled silently at the man and delivered another brutal blow to his cheek. Hot, irrational rage filled him. He rose off the assassin, visibly trembling with his fury. He picked the man’s sword up. Damien stared down at the assassin for a long moment, silently cursing himself for his stupidity in not recognizing him before. “Why are you here?” he demanded.
The man sat up, turning his head to spit a tooth out. “I have a job ta complete.”
“Roke’s paying you?”
“Well.”
Damien narrowed his eyes. What the devil was Roke up to? he wondered. Why send him, promising h
is freedom upon completion, and then send other assassins to complete the job? There was only one option. Roke had no intention of freeing him. It was just another one of Roke’s twisted games to torment him. Damien whirled, his gaze scanning the area for Aurora.
She sat near a tree, her knees pulled up to her chest, her eyes wide and tearful.
Damien’s heart ached at seeing her so frightened. He stepped toward her.
“What’s the matter, Damien, lost the stomach for your craft?” the assassin called from behind him.
Damien stopped; his jaw ached from clenching it so tightly. A furious, all-consuming wrath filled him. “No,” he said calmly and whirled, the sword coming around quickly and deadly. With one precise blow, he swiped the assassin’s head clean off his body.
With a scowl of contempt, Damien drove the sword into the ground near the assassin’s fallen body. He turned to Aurora. Her face was pale, her beautiful eyes squeezed shut.
Damien faltered. She had seen his dark side. She saw him kill the assassin with no remorse, no mercy. He should leave. He should turn around and get the hell out of here. Roke be damned.
Instead, he took a step toward her. Would he ever see those blue eyes light with warmth when she looked at him? An irrational fear tightened around his heart. He reached out a hand to her. “Are you---?”
She launched herself past his open palm and into his arms. “Damien,” she whispered.
For a moment, Damien stood shocked, shocked she would touch him after seeing how he had killed the assassin. And then, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she was alive. Damien wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight.
A movement shifted through the forest. Damien froze suddenly and jerked his head sharply to his left. He firmly set her away from him. He grabbed the sword from the ground and stepped in front of Aurora, scanning the surrounding trees. The dead assassin’s blood slowly dripped down the blade. The brush around them bent slightly in a soft breeze, drawing his attention this way and that. No birds sang. No sound other than the defiant rustle of leaves reached his ears. He stood very still, waiting for whoever was out there to move first. He was convinced someone else was there.
Damien heard the rustle of Aurora’s skirts as she moved up to him. She touched his arm with trembling fingers.
Anger tightened Damien’s fist. How many damned assassins were after her? After this one little, innocent woman? How many assassins did it take to kill her? How many assassins was Roke willing to risk in this game? “Are you hurt?” he whispered to her. He kept his gaze moving, scanning the area around them as he talked, his sword grasped tightly. When Aurora didn’t respond, Damien turned his head toward her. “Are you hurt?” he demanded.
“Damien,” she whispered. Her voice was full of fear. Her hand squeezed around his arm.
Suddenly, the forest shifted. Damien’s head spun and his footing wavered. Damn, he thought frantically. Damn! The poison. Not now. He couldn’t let it cloud his mind. Not with another assassin waiting for Aurora. Damien turned to Aurora. He had to get her out of there.
He looked around, but he could barely focus. His vision wavered, focusing and then blurring, clear then hazy. No, he thought. Not now. He glanced down at Aurora. Her large eyes looked to him for protection.
He cursed. “Run,” he told her.
Shocked confusion furrowed her brow. “Run?”
“There is someone else out there.”
He saw her eyes widen and his heart ached. Anxiety knotted tight in his stomach. She was so beautiful. So innocent. So frightened. Damien could not let anyone hurt her. But right now, he couldn’t prevent it. His eyes rolled and he toppled forward to the ground.
Chapter Eighteen
Horror engulfed Aurora as Damien crumpled to a heap at her feet. For a moment, she could not move. She stared at his fallen body, a swirl of emotions rocking her, fear for Damien and for herself, concern, shock. Run! His word exploded through her mind. She whirled to obey, but did not even take a step before she realized what she was contemplating. She turned back to him. How could she even think of leaving him?
She fell to her knees at his side, lifting trembling hands to his bare shoulders, shaking him anxiously. “Damien,” she called. “Damien!” She pressed her ear to his chest. His heart was beating. Thank the Lord.
She had to get him help! She glanced at the trees and bushes of the forest, and remembered his words. ‘There is someone else out there.’ A swell of terror crested inside her. Dark shadows shifted behind the trees in the corners of her vision. She was alone. Alone with an assassin in the forest. She frantically scanned her surroundings, trying to peer into the walls of bushes, looking past the thick tree trunks to find the killer. A breeze ruffled the leaves of a tree. A bird exploded from the cover of a group of branches. A rabbit scurried from a bush, racing across the forest floor.
There were too many shadows to hide the murderer from her eyes. Damien said he was out there. He had been right on every other count. He wouldn’t be wrong about this. Her gaze dropped to him. Her hand still rested on his bare shoulder.
She felt inadequate and frightened. Powerless anger welled through her. He was her bodyguard! He was supposed to protect her! Her hands tightened around his arms and she shook him, desperately.
A cry shuddered through her body. Trembling like a frightened child, she sat back on her heels and wrapped herself in a solitary embrace, the icy hand of terror snaking its way along her spine. She was alone.
Stop it! Aurora commanded herself. You are not a child. Damien needs you now.
He looked so helpless lying on the ground. So peaceful. Even his scowling brow was smooth in peace. His chest rose and fell with each breath. His leg was bent slightly at the knee and she could see the tear in his leggings; the cut still dripped blood. Poison.
If she didn’t do something, Damien would die.
No, she thought with determination. I will not let him die. She rose to her feet. She had to get help. She took a handful of steps, but froze, glancing back at Damien lying prone on the forest floor. What if the assassin comes back and finds him? She could not leave him alone. She searched the forest, glancing at the leaves of the majestic trees, at the fallen branches on the forest floor, somehow hoping for a sign, praying for a way to help Damien.
If I could just get him back to the castle…
Through the veil of leaves swirling about the forest, she saw the fallen mare and dread slithered through her. Damien would be dead soon if she could not get help.
Imp! The thought swept through her mind like a rush of water. “Imp!” Aurora cried, whirling to look for the escaped warhorse. “IMP!”
Suddenly, something crackled behind her. She whipped her head around to see a man approaching. He was tall, with midnight hair and hard brown eyes. His lips twisted down with disapproval as he stared at Damien.
Aurora grabbed the sword from the ground and lifted it before her, stepping in front of Damien.
“What happened to him?” he demanded.
“Who are you?” she insisted. Was he here to help? Or was he the assassin? Her gaze swept his body, resting on the dagger in his belt.
His dark eyes turned to her. “What happened to him?” he asked harshly.
“Poison,” she uttered. “Who are you?”
He stepped toward her, his gaze sweeping Damien’s body with a growing unease.
She held the sword before her, refusing to give ground. If he were the assassin, she would not let him near Damien.
He drew closer and Aurora did not move aside. The coldness in his glare made Aurora shiver, but she clutched the sword tighter, more determined.
He drew his dagger from his belt. “Where was he hit?”
Hit? How did he know about the poisoned arrows?
She lifted the sword until its tip pointed at the stranger’s stomach. “You will not touch him,” she proclaimed.
“Speak now, Lady, if you wish to save his life.”
Aurora studied the m
an. Strands of dark hair hung about his face. His hair was pulled back into a coif. Cold eyes offered no answer to who he was. She did not recognize him from the village, and yet there was something familiar about him. “Will you help him?”
A muscle moved in his jaw. “I will do my best.”
Aurora lowered the sword. “His thigh.”
The man knelt at Damien’s side, examining his leg. When he spotted the tear in Damien’s leggings, he seized the material and ripped it open to reveal the wound.
“What are you doing?” Aurora asked, kneeling beside him.
His lips hitched with a half grin, as if he found something amusing. He removed a flask from his belt, uncorked it and poured some liquid over Damien’s wound.
Aurora watched the man work on Damien’s leg. She stroked Damien’s opposite leg softly, hoping this stranger could save him from the poison. Damien was so pale, his strong body limp and lifeless.
The man stopped to look at her hand where it rested against Damien’s leg, then at her face. A silent question appeared in his eyes before he sat back away from Damien.
“Will he be all right?” Aurora asked softly, staring at Damien’s still face.
“Yes,” the man answered.
Slowly, distrustfully, Aurora looked at the man. “Who are you?”
“You should leave here now,” the man advised.
Aurora looked at Damien. “No. I will not leave him.”
“You risk your life by staying.”
A chill swept through her. She knew she should go, but she could not leave Damien. Determination squared her shoulders. “He has risked his life more than once for me. I will not leave him.”
The man shook his head in disgust. His fingers tightened about the dagger. “Then you leave me no choice.”
Chapter Nineteen
Earn your freedom, the voice commanded. Complete your mission.
Legends of Medieval Romance: The Complete Angel's Assassin Trilogy Page 11