by Morgan Henry
“Now I’m even more intrigued.” Graydon stood and led the way into the tent.
Chapter 16
Two days later Duke Bruson watched Torquin’s forces approach his keep. A ragged group of about seventy-five men in the blue surcoats of Torquin were closing in on the bridge to the keep.
“Get extra men to the drawbridge and make sure it closes behind Troquin’s troops,” he ordered Hador.
Close behind them were the vanguard of Graydon’s forces. It appeared to be a race to see if Torquin’s soldiers would be able to make it to safety. In the distance, more of Kerban’s soldiers could be seen gaining ground as well.
Bruson grabbed Hador’s arm before the man left, hard enough to get his full attention. “If it looks like Gradyon’s men will catch up with them, close the drawbridge. Do not allow Graydon’s troops within fifty feet of the entrance.” The edge in his voice was sharp enough to slit a man’s throat.
Bruson was angry his plans were falling apart. Aenid had disappeared and was likely back in Clawynd or with the king. This galled him both because he did desire her delectable little body, and because she was going to be one of his prize pets. She would have been a fine start to his collection of collared kerfios wielders. But she was gone and he was likely to need his escape route to Torquin. It was unlikely he would be able to convince Graydon that this was all an unfortunate misunderstanding.
“Get the archers to the outer walls!” he roared. Hopefully they could pick off some of Graydon’s troops, preferably his closest companions. Merrin and Arto were likely to be there and he would be happy to see a shaft in either one’s chest.
Bruson ground his fists into the stone of the outer wall of the keep as he watched the Torquin troops approach. He would let the troops in if they reached the keep in time. It wouldn’t do to have word get back to the emperor that he had failed to provide safety for them. Especially since it seemed he might have to escape to Torquin if Graydon bottled him up. Make that when.
The keep was built ages ago, before Kerban was a Kingdom. Back then each lord maintained his own Keep and defended his own land. The keep was virtually impossible to get into, which made it damned hard to get out of. It took years for Bruson to tunnel out his passage into the mountains. The rock tunnel was known to almost no one. He had killed the slaves who had done the labor for him.
For now, Bruson had plenty of stores in the keep to feed his people. Now that most of the Torquin force had been killed or captured, there was enough to last even longer. Bruson had also made sure that only those who labored in the keep were inside. Any villager seeking safety within the walls had been forced out at sword point.
Bruson didn’t really care whether the villagers were safe, but he also didn’t think that Graydon would harm them. No, he was too noble for that. Graydon adhered to the Code of Honor of the knighthood. Protect the innocent, defend the defenseless, respect your sovereign, blah, blah, blah.
God and goddess, it all made him sick. Power and position were all that mattered. At least in Torquin they understood that. They leashed their kerfios wielders to use them. The collared were there to provide the power to fuel the ambition of the nobility. What was the use of being a Duke if you didn’t exercise and enjoy your power and wealth?
His parents had always lectured on and on about the responsibility of the nobility to their people. His elder brother, Caten, had eagerly followed in their footsteps, always concerned about whether the villagers were prospering, whether the merchants were doing well, and how the guilds were faring. It made no sense to Bruson. The people were there to serve them, to pay their tithes and taxes and do whatever else he required.
Bruson certainly hadn’t let his brother cheat him out of the power and position Bruson so clearly deserved. What a shame Caten met with a tragic accident on the mountain while hunting with his dear brother. And how sad that his parents were so overcome with grief that they wasted away in the months after Caten’s death.
Graydon had comforted Bruson as he confirmed his title. “Know that we grieve with you, Duke,” Graydon had said. “May you uphold the fine standards of your family as you care for Dyfal and its people.” What little the man knew of power and ambition.
Now, all Bruson’s planning and plotting were unraveling. The Healer bitch, Aenid, had escaped and somehow managed to get to the king. Bruson was still baffled as to how she got out of the collar. He had been assured it was impossible for the wearer to remove them. That left a traitor in his midst, and the thought of that made him incoherent with rage if he dwelt on it. He would kill whoever was playing both sides as soon as he figured it out.
The Torquin forces were just entering the keep now. The ragtag bunch scattered about the courtyard and some headed for the inner courtyard as well. It was a miracle they had made it inside at all. Graydon’s vanguard was on their heels and the rest of the force was closing fast. They should just get the drawbridge up in time.
Bruson was almost ready to turn away and see if Amard, the Torquin commander, had made it in with the few men that were left of his force when he realized he didn’t hear the drawbridge closing.
He looked directly down from his place on the walls to see that indeed, the keep was wide open and Graydon’s forces were entering.
“Close the drawbridge, you bastards!” he roared, the volume of his voice augmented with rage and fear. “Get it up before Graydon’s forces arrive! Do you want to die?” By the god, he would kill them himself if they delayed any further. What in the god’s name is happening?
* * * *
Merrin and his team of five men surprised the guards at the center set of the inner doors of the keep and slit their throats. There should be two other teams doing the same thing on the flanking doors. They then pulled the pins on the hinges, ensuring the doors couldn’t be closed and barricaded. It was a miracle they managed to remain quiet and hidden, but apparently the god was on their side for now.
Aenid’s plan of having Graydon’s forces dress in the blue surcoats of the enemy to infiltrate Bruson’s Keep was working well so far. Merrin looked back, noting the drawbridge hadn’t closed and Graydon’s forces were beginning to enter. The team assigned to kill the guards there seemed to have done their job as well.
The rest of the men in blue who had been milling around, attempting to distract Bruson’s forces, now began to head for the doors to the inner Keep. They made a show of fleeing Graydon’s men to add further chaos to the scene. Mock battles occurred between some soldiers in blue and those in the red of Kerban.
Merrin heard an enraged shout and looked up to see Bruson himself on the wall. He wasn’t sure if Bruson had seen the deception or was just angry that Graydon’s forces were in the keep. Merrin wished he had a crossbow to aim at the bastard.
About half of Graydon’s forces were now in the courtyard, and the horns blew in signal for the real attack to begin. The men in blue now became part of the Kerban forces and started to fight Bruson’s men.
They poured into the inner Keep, where the bulk of Bruson’s men were attempting to muster. At this point, Graydon’s men were outnumbered until the rest of the men could get through the bottleneck of the three sets of doors. They knew this would happen, but there was no help for it. They would have to hold on until more and more men could get through.
Though there were a few archers in position, there weren’t near enough of them to truly sway the battle in Bruson’s favor. Graydon and Merrin had assigned teams to head up to the archer’s positions as quickly as they could and take them out. Included in these teams were the best archers in Graydon’s forces to take their place and start putting feathered shafts in Bruson’s men.
It was easier said than done, though. The battle raging in the keep was intense. Bruson’s men fought with the desperation and ferocity of cornered weasels, knowing there would be no mercy for them. They defended the paths to the archers particularly, trying to keep their advantage, however small.
Merrin needed to find Bruson. He wa
nted vengeance for the kidnapping and collaring of Aenid. He wanted Bruson to pay for his treason. Merrin had spied the duke on the upper walls and tried to think of where he would go. Would the traitor try to escape quickly, or would he see if he could defeat Graydon’s forces first?
Merrin would bet Bruson would see if the battle could be swayed in his favor before scurrying out whatever escape route he had planned. Merrin leapt up on a low wall, attempting to get high enough to see if he could find Bruson in the mass of fighting men.
There! Merrin spied Bruson surrounded by his personal guard, attempting to form his forces into some semblance of order so they could attack. Tactics like that weren’t about to work in the melee that was going on in the inner Keep. It was one-on-one fighting until one side clearly had the advantage over the other.
Merrin ran along the wall, using it as a path to reach the duke. He was about halfway to Bruson when a white-hot lance of pain went through his chest.
Chapter 17
“Nooo!” Aenid screamed and spurred her horse into a gallop.
She had not been pleased to be left outside Bruson’s Keep until the fighting was over. Aenid had wanted to be among the first few Healers heading into the keep, but both Merrin and the king had vehemently objected. She was to wait outside the walls until cleared to enter, and protected by four guards that had orders to get her out of Dyfal if they should fail.
Though Aenid was still conflicted about her feelings regarding Merrin, she had kissed him before he left and headed to the front of the force wearing a blue surcoat. She had fastened a tendril of kerfios to him so she could know where he was and if he was hurt. When the arrow hit him, she felt the pain of him being wounded and couldn’t stop herself from acting.
She shot past her guards, who immediately set off after her. Her horse was fast and not encumbered by a large man wearing armor so she easily outdistanced her protectors. She entered the first courtyard and her horse slid to a stop on the flagstones. She threw herself off the mount and ran through the doors into the inner Keep.
Aenid had never been in battle before and had only observed the fight with the Torquin troops briefly before starting in on healing the wounded. The fierce battle raging would have been overwhelming to her, if she hadn’t been so focused on getting to Merrin. All around her men were fighting. The clang of metal on metal as their swords clashed and the roar of men screaming in rage and pain filled her ears.
She dodged around the groups of fighters, ducking and weaving as best she could to get around them. She couldn’t see Merrin but headed for him unerringly, following her thread of kerfios. She scrambled over the low wall to find him on the ground, an arrow protruding from his chest.
Blood stained the stones around him, a bright contrast to the darkening blue of the surcoat and the black of the arrow. He was alive, but having more and more difficulty breathing. She could hear him gurgle as he tried to move air in and out of his lungs.
Aenid collapsed beside her lover. Mortal injury had forced her into acknowledging the truth in her heart. She placed one hand on his forehead and the other on the arrow. “Hold on, my love,” she pleaded. “I will heal you.”
She took a deep breath and centered herself, reaching for kerfios to heal Merrin. The din around her receded as she focused on his wounds and she became unaware of her surroundings.
The arrow had wounded him grievously, but could have been worse. It hadn’t pierced his heart, thank the god, but it was close. It had penetrated his ribs, opened his lungs, lacerated many vessels and was resting right against the largest vessel in his chest. If she moved the arrow the wrong way, it would slice open that vessel and she would be unable to save him.
First Aenid controlled Merrin’s pain and made him sleep. She then steadied the arrow in her hand and started to pull it out of Merrin’s chest. She worked slowly, pulling the arrow out a tiny bit and healing the damage beneath it. Then she would pull it out a little further and heal some more. She continued in this fashion, repairing the damage agonizingly slowly, but not making anything worse.
As she started to exit the arrow from the muscles of his chest, she breathed a sigh of relief. The worst of the damage was healed and his chest was again sealed so he could breathe properly. She had only to knit the muscles between his ribs together, and the skin overtop them, and he would be whole again.
Just as she set about mending the last of the damage, she was pulled off Merrin.
“No!” she cried, fighting to maintain her connection to him through kerfios so she could finish the healing. She wildly battled the grip on her arm in an effort to get back to Merrin, finally twisting to get a look at who was dragging her away.
“No!” she cried again as she looked into the face of Duke Bruson.
“My dear fiancée,” he snarled at her as he pulled her into the keep, protected by several of his guards. “I don’t know how you got away before, but you won’t do so again.”
They continued through the corridors at breakneck speed. Aenid had no idea where they were headed. She hadn’t been in this part of the keep when she was a prisoner. They seemed to be going deeper and deeper into the mountain. There were no longer any windows and they had climbed more than a few stairs. Bruson and his guards had torches to light the way.
Finally they entered what appeared to be a storeroom. There were bolts of fabric stacked along one wall and tanned hides laid out on shelves. There was a large cupboard along the wall farthest from the door that presumably held more sewing supplies. Piled in a corner were several packs that the guards began distributing among themselves.
Bruson went to the edge of the cupboard and fiddled with something until the cupboard swung away from the wall. Behind it was a black tunnel that was barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side.
One of the guards handed Bruson a pack. He rummaged in it and pulled something out before slinging the pack onto his back. He nodded at the guard holding Aenid, who tightened his grip on her arms.
Before she could see what he held, Bruson had the silver collar fastened around her neck. Aenid collapsed screaming in pain, dizzy and barely aware of being dragged into the tunnel.
* * * *
Merrin inhaled sharply as he woke up. He was completely disoriented for a moment, unable to remember where he was or what had happened. It all came rushing back though. He remembered the battle for the keep, trying to find Bruson, and the arrow in his chest.
Sir Robal was suddenly by his side, helping Merrin to rise. The battle in the inner Keep was more or less over and King Graydon’s forces were victorious. The few remaining men of Dyfal’s were throwing down their swords and surrendering.
“We’ve taken the keep,” said Robal, his voice hoarse from shouting during the battle. “But there’s a problem.”
Merrin groaned as he stood. He was tired but breathing fine and the arrow was on the ground. He checked his mail and sure enough, there was a rent in it from a crossbow arrow. Below that was a half-healed wound that didn’t hurt nearly as much as it should. Thank the god and goddess for Aenid, he thought.
“What’s the problem? And where is the baroness?” he asked with some irritation. He was going to eviscerate her guards for allowing her in the keep when the fighting was still going on. Then he was going to turn her over his knee and redden her ass until she begged for mercy and promised never to put herself in danger like this again.
“She’s the problem,” Robal informed him bluntly. “One of her guards told me that he saw Bruson dragging her away before the guard died of his wounds.”
A sharp pain sliced through Merrin’s chest at his words. Bruson had Aenid again. The thoughts of what Bruson would do to her flashed through Merrin’s head. They weren’t pretty, and he was sure she would be collared.
“Where are they? Holed up in the keep somewhere?” he asked harshly.
“We don’t know. His Majesty has men searching the keep now, but so far there’s no sign of them.”
Merrin swore. Once
he found her, Aenid was in so much trouble. He couldn’t even contemplate not getting her back. That wasn’t an option.
He began to make his way over to the surrendering soldiers of Dyfal. He hoped there would be a man there who could tell him where Bruson would be hiding Aenid.
As he crossed the courtyard, a hand clapped him on the shoulder. Merrin whirled to find Turok behind him. Why he wasn’t already in custody, Merrin didn’t know and, right now, he didn’t care.
Rage filled Merrin’s eyes as he pulled a dagger from his belt and held it to Turok’s throat. “The only reason your throat isn’t gaping open is because you helped Aenid escape before. Tell me where she is.” A drop of blood welled up where the dagger met skin.
“I think I know where Bruson has taken the baroness,” he stated simply.
“What?” growled Merrin. “You think you know?”
Turok heaved a sigh. “I’m fairly sure he used his secret way out of the keep. It’s the only logical course of action for him.”
“And you would know, wouldn’t you, traitor?” His voice thick with rage, Merrin still hadn’t moved the dagger.
“Let the king execute me later. I deserve it. But right now, I want to save the baroness.”
Merrin looked hard at the man. He sensed great shame, but he also saw truth and determination in Turok’s eyes. Whatever the man had done, Merrin believed that right now, he wanted to save Aenid. “Fine, let’s go.”
Chapter 18
Merrin, Turok, and Robal raced along the corridors of the keep. They had gathered a few more soldiers along the way who had been searching for Lady Aenid and Bruson.
Finally, they entered the storeroom that held the hidden tunnel. Turok quickly unlatched the cupboard that concealed the tunnel and it swung open silently.
“Go back and tell the king where we are and lead him back here if needed,” Merrin instructed one of the soldiers. He turned to another. “Stay here and guard the rear. I don’t want any of Bruson’s servants or lackeys sneaking up on us from behind.”