Angie Arms - Flames series 04

by The Strongest Flames

  If anyone else made such a statement, Halvor would laugh, but Garrick’s wife was the only one who could possibly stop the man from what he was intent on doing. But, if Halvor allowed Ryann to be where there was guaranteed to be a battle, Garrick would kill him.

  “I will take Keri back to Scotts Manor and see what is happening there. If there is need of your assistance Countess, I will return for you.”

  “Very well,” Ryann said, her blue eyes twinkling, and Cyrille knew in that instant Garrick’s bride was as cunning as her husband. The Lady Keri now had a voluntary escort to Scotts Manor. Cyrille wondered if perhaps Ryann was manipulating the entire evening, to get Halvor to come to that decision.

  “I guess we better get some sleep,” Halvor said. It was evident he was irritated, but Cyrille did not think he was aware of how well he was played. The big man rose and stood next to Keri, until she stood from her chair, and together the two of them made their way to their chambers.

  “That was well done Countess,” Cyrille said, taking the opportunity to prop his leg on the chair Halvor just vacated. His back and hip screamed at the movement, but within a moment the muscles there relaxed a little.

  “I hoped no one would catch on,” she said, in her voice that still sounded like it came from a child. Envy began to wash over him, and he quickly pushed it away. Garrick was not a man he ever wanted to be envious of.

  “Halvor did not. I take it Lady Keri put you up to it.”

  “No, she would have insisted she did not need his escort. I could not allow her to leave here alone, but I did not think me telling her that would stop her, any more than you two telling her that.”

  Cyrille chuckled, knowing she was correct in that assumption.

  “The hour grows late,” she said, with a sigh. “I have promised the children a picnic tomorrow before the weather grows too cold.” She stood and moved past him, pausing at his shoulder. She placed a hand on it, and he looked up at her. She smiled down at him, despite what he looked like without his hood. “Thank you for keeping it a secret,” she bent and kissed him on his forehead, before walking away.

  Cyrille remained in the seat until his back began to spasm, and he got up and began pacing about the keep. He had to get away from all those he cared about. He felt he no longer had a choice in that, because he wanted their lives, their love, even if it was just for a day. It was maddening to watch everyone’s lives go on around him, the way they fell in love, the way their women looked up at them. It was a daily reminder that his life was shattered, the pieces blown away on the four winds, to never be pieced together. He would go find help for his brother, from there he did not know what to do.

  Later Cyrille stood on the wall, looking out over the shadows that made up Garrick’s home. How could Marcus give up a place such as this, his title and power to a bastard? Cyrille could not fathom such a thing. At least if Cyrille had his own property he could go to it, throw everyone else off it, and live his life in peaceful solitude. With no one near, he could not be reminded of what once was, and what could have been. Now all that was left to him was a life of wondering, from one place to another, because he would never fit in.

  Of course Scotts Manor would always be his home, and he might return there from time to time, but he stopped being a good soldier when his body became mangled. Now he was slow and unbalanced. He could not wield a sword long, before it hurt all the way down his arm and in his back. He could not mount a horse with any speed, usually requiring a block to get his foot up high enough. No, he thought, as he looked up at the stars, he was not a soldier, not a lover, he was nothing. He wanted to scream at the heavens, but he could not even do that.

  By dawn he was riding from the safety of the walls, choosing to tell no one good bye, for that would be nearly as difficult as saying it to his brother.

  ~ ~ ~

  Scotts Manor

  The cool dampness awoke him with a start. When he jerked, a gasp escaped Lilly and she lurched backward, out of his reach. In her hand was a wet cloth dripping onto the wooden floor. Garrick tried to smile at her, but he did not know if he accomplished it. It wasn’t that long ago he learned of the things in life that would make a man smile, so still felt foolish when his face twisted upward. Apparently the girl recognized it for what it was, and moved closer to clean his face with the cloth. Garrick watched her and knew somewhere in this little girl’s past, there must have been someone who cared enough about her to do the same for her.

  He swallowed, feeling the dryness in his throat, clogging it. “Ale,” he croaked, and the girl nodded, leaving the room. Within a moment she was back, the tankard of ale in her hand. Garrick tried to lift his arm, but the pain shot through his back and shoulders. Seeing his pain, the girl moved closer and tipped the glass for him to drink from.

  “Thank you,” he said, having his fill. She sat the vessel down, and went back to wiping him down, his neck this time, and he knew she already completed the extent of her knowledge in assisting the injured.

  He needed to get up and go to Damien and finish it. He turned his head and saw Damien’s head rested against the wall and his eyes were closed. Was he dead?

  “Someone else might be thirsty,” Damien said, his eyes not opening.

  “I came here to kill you,” Garrick replied, the idea of giving his enemy drink was ridiculous.

  “And a bang-up job you have done,” Damien retorted, but still did not open his eyes.

  Garrick studied him for a moment. “Give him some ale,” he finally said. Clearly the girl was of the same opinion as Garrick, but left to do his bidding. When she returned, she took the ale to him and sat it next to him, before scurrying away. Damien opened his eyes and lifted the cup to his lips, as he studied Garrick.

  “What now?” he finally asked, draining the cup and sitting it in the floor beside him.

  “I guess it’s down to who can get up first,” Garrick said, knowing it would not be him. He wasn’t sure if he could feel his legs.

  The girl rushed to the doorway, stood there a moment, peering out, and then ran back to Garrick. She pressed herself against him, nearly in his lap, making his wounds scream as she made a whimpering sound. Someone was coming. He tried to push her away, but she clung to him, and he realized he did not have the strength to protect them.

  Then Keri was in the doorway. Her eyes fell on him and the girl first, before travelling to Damien. Her husband was beginning to say something to her, but it was cut off by her shouted curse, then she flew across the room at Garrick. What woman would choose battle over seeing to her husband’s injuries? The woman slammed into Garrick and began pounding him with fists that landed each blow accurately and powerfully.

  Lilly tried to protect him, but Keri ignored the child who was likewise using her fists and feet to try to drive her away. As suddenly as her attack began, it ended, and Garrick raised his head to see Halvor, with his arms wrapped around Keri, pinning her arms at her sides, and lifting her off the floor. She flailed about, until Halvor managed to shake her twice.

  “See to your husband,” he demanded, before sitting her back on the floor and releasing her. Garrick could not believe it when her eyes fell on him again.

  “Keri,” the sharp command came from Damien, and still she hesitated before turning away. Garrick breathed a sigh of relief, ashamed he could do nothing to defend himself against a woman. Then she was crooning over the big man propped against the wall, and in the same breaths cursing Garrick for the injuries she was looking at.

  “Can you stand?” Halvor asked, reaching down for Garrick. He nodded to the girl, to let her know it was okay for Halvor to come near. He did not know what the big man would do to the child, if she tried to stand in his way.

  “Help me up,” Garrick replied, feeling sure he could not, but he did not want his commander to know this.

  Halvor bent down, and reaching his big hands out, took Garrick by his shoulders and lifted him. Garrick groaned, his body trying to sag, but Halvor had him. His legs felt li
ke a thousand pins drove through them, and they moved up his body into his back. The place where the hilt of Damien’s sword landed, felt like it was on fire, and the pins went all the way to his fingertips.

  “Are you all right?” Halvor asked.

  Garrick knew he was getting ready to let go, and despite knowing he could not stand alone, he nodded, and the big hands supporting him, released him. His legs immediately buckled, and he found himself hitting the floor hard. He heard Lilly exclaim, and say something. He heard her take a step toward him, but Halvor did likewise, so she stopped. Then big hands were lifting him again, this time not onto his feet. Halvor lifted him, as if he was a mere child, and left the room with him. Down the hallway he was carried, and into the first chamber, where the big man lay him gently on the soft mattress. He felt the sigh escape him as his body sank into the soft folds, and then he allowed the darkness to take him without a fight. Halvor was here, and would not let anything happen to him. If the big man failed, he had the little girl to take up the sword on his behalf.

  “I will kill him for you,” Keri told Damien, despite the fact Halvor stood in the room with them. The big man returned and helped Keri get her husband moved to his bed, where his wounds could be treated.

  “No. No killing will take place here today. There is another option. I will send word to the King I have taken Garrick prisoner. That way Countess Ryann will be safe, and I will have only the King’s army to worry about.”

  “Only the King’s army,” Keri grumbled, dipping the cloth in the steaming water brought to her. “You are foolish to think it can be done so easily.”

  “There was a time you thought you could stand against the King’s army,” Damien said, before the cloth was slapped down onto his injured thigh. “Good God woman!” he exclaimed.

  By the time the wounds in his leg and side were treated and sewn, sweat was covering Damien’s body, and he knew, had he not been lying in the bed, he would collapse.

  Halvor returned to tell him Garrick was in agreement with his plan, and Damien was hard pressed for a moment to remember what plan it was. The big man told him he would be leaving in the morning, to bring Ryann to Scotts Manor, and the majority of the men Garrick left behind to protect her. Damien was relieved because he knew he was in a precarious position unable to fight, but with Garrick’s commander within his walls, all it would take was a word for the big man to finish what the Bastard started.

  “I am not happy with you wife,” Damien said the next morning, after regaining some strength from a sound night’s sleep.

  “Do you think this surprises me?” she asked, sitting his tray of food in his lap then helping him to sit up, adjusting the pillows at his back.

  “You were supposed to leave here.”

  “And I did,” she argued, and he could not stop the small smile, but he quickly suppressed it before she saw.

  “You know you were not supposed to come back,” he said, making his voice angry.

  “And had I not you would have been left to bleed to death.”

  “Someone would have come eventually,” he said, not sure why he was even arguing with her.

  “Eventually, after you bled out into the floor.” Finished with the pillows, she took a seat on the edge of the bed.

  “Are you going to feed me now?” he asked with a smirk.

  “No,” she replied gruffly, folding her hands in her lap and staring at him.

  He sighed as if it was going to kill him to lift the food to his mouth. He fumbled with it for a moment.

  “Oh here,” she said quickly, sliding closer and taking the food from him. She lifted it to his mouth, and he laughed heartily, leaving her scowling at him. Yet, still she fed him.

  “Who is the girl?” Keri asked after a moment.

  Damien shrugged and wished he hadn’t, when the muscles in his side protested. “Her mother sold her to Garrick.”

  “Garrick?” Keri asked.

  Damien nodded, “The Bastard himself.”

  “She trusts him. We tried to get her to leave so she could have some breakfast, but she won’t leave his side.”

  “Who would have thought?” Damien asked, trying to get used to the idea himself.

  “Who would have thought he would come here to kill you?”

  “Me.”

  “You knew the King might send him?” Keri asked, pausing with food halfway to his mouth.

  “I thought it highly likely. Be easier and a more likely outcome in the King’s favor.”

  “What king would think that way? He has a massive army at his disposal. Why would he look to one man?”

  “Because I have been the commander of his armies, and I know they could not take me down.”

  “My husband is conceited,” she said, offering him more food.

  “No, I’m just good,” he replied with a wink. “Has Halvor left?”

  “At first light. He will be another day, he is going to check on his wife before collecting Ryann.”

  “It is unfortunate that Marcus is away during this time.”

  “He has returned with Alena, but left again with Roland.”

  “With Roland? But he’s my man. Where did they go?”

  “I don’t know. That is just what Ryann told me.”

  “Is Alena well?”

  “I do not know. Something happened between her and Marcus, and I did not see her while at Kinsey. You have not asked about Garrick.”

  “I will ask about him once I stop feeling his blade slicing into me.”

  “He is complaining of back pain and tingling in his arms and legs, but he walked about his chamber this morning, so I think he will mend as you will.”

  “That is unfortunate.”

  “You are just being grumpy, you like Garrick.”

  “According to who?” Damien asked, waving any more food away.

  “Me, or you would let me kill him and you would not offer he and Ryann protection here.”

  “The only reason I have offered them a place is because Garrick is a hell of a fighting man, and we need him on our side.”

  Keri stood with the tray in her hand. “I don’t believe you. Garrick is your friend, you are just too stubborn to admit it right now.”

  “My side sure doesn’t feel as if it was touched by a friend,” Damien grumbled, and his wife left the room laughing at him.

  Chapter 11

  Hawknest

  His chest ached and the cold drizzle made it even more difficult to breath. Halvor stumbled over a rock in the increasing darkness, and fell with a grunt. Quickly he climbed back to his feet and ran on. He did not remember the pool being so far, but he wasn’t frantic the last time he was there. When he arrived back at Hawknest he was decidedly happy to be returning to his home, and looking forward to seeing his wife. When he found she was gone all day he grew concerned, because it was not a sunny day, but one drenched with a chilling rain. He waited for nearly an hour for her to return, but as the sun left the sky and darkness began to blanket the land, he knew in his gut something was wrong.

  When one of his men returned from the village after his search confirmed there was no one who saw her today, he knew of only one other place she could be.

  “Jillian!” he called out as he neared the place in the stream.

  “Halvor,” her voice replied. It didn’t sound right, it sounded strained, weak.

  “Jillian,” he called again, as he crashed into the clearing where they sat together not long ago, skipping rocks.

  “Halvor,” he turned toward her voice, and saw her outline against a tree. He moved quickly to her, sinking down in front of her. Her clothes were soaked, her hair dripped water from its ends, and it ran off the end of her nose. She was shaking, but before he could question her, she screamed, a blood curdling scream, that ended in a weak moan as she laid her head back against the tree.

  “How long have you been here?” he asked, touching her knees. They were bare, her skirt pulled up around her waist, and very cold. He pulled his cloak
from around his shoulders, and laid it across her, but it too was drenched by the freezing rain, and offered very little to her in the way of warmth.

  “Since morning,” she said, between clinched teeth.

  “I’m taking you home,” he said decisively, reaching for her. He placed one hand at her back, another under her legs, and began to lift her. She moaned an agonizing sound, so he stopped, and sat back on his heels.

  “I’m scared,” she said, between her chattering teeth.

  “I know my love,” he said, in an effort to sooth her. He pushed a piece of hair behind her ear, and realized her face was muddy along with her hair. “I have to get you back to Hawknest.”

  “I can’t,” Jillian said, weakly trying to push his hands away.

  He cupped her face with both his hands, and brought his face down to hers. “You can Jillian. You are strong.”

  A giant shiver ran through her, and a soft moan escaped, before her body went limp and her eyes fluttered closed. Fear shook him to his toes.

  “You can’t stay out here. This could take days.”

  “Nooooo,” she crooned, her eyes opening again. “I can’t,” and her brown eyes pleaded with him to stop her pain.

  “If I could make it stop I would,” he said, giving her face a gentle squeeze. “The only way I can help you is to get you home.” There was no hesitation between his next words and actions. “So we are going now.” He moved quickly to her side and scooped her up. She gasped and then her body was limp. She was so cold, he felt as if he carried a corpse. He moved quickly back through the forest. His progress was slower and he had to stop twice when Jillian’s body contorted. After two stops he decided he could not afford the time wasted, so held her tighter when she thrashed, but kept a steady pace toward home.

  The lights of the old keep came into view, the orange glow of the torches a welcoming sight after the nightmare of the dark, with Jillian’s cold body clutched to him.

  “Guards!” he yelled at the top of his voice. “Guards!”

  “Sir Halvor?” he heard the return call.