by Amber Dane
Ever since the day Black had returned, she had withdrawn into herself even more.
But this particular eve the cold snap was the strongest since deep winter had set in and the shivers that shook her frame became unbearable as she practiced hard and long with her wooden sword. Her sore body finally drew her to the bed she and Rourke shared and Alexa climbed in and lay on her side in the space he usually lay his large body.
She was asleep by the time Margaret later entered with Goran to lay more logs to the fire and pile more furs around her.
Goran watched her with an aching heart that bled for her and his friend. When he turned to the moonless sky with a glance out the window, he wiped a tear that had slipped from the corner of his eye and did what he' not done in many years.
He knelt on one knee and prayed.
THIRTY-FIVE
It had been some time since Raven and his henchman had returned to the dungeon or so Rourke thought. He’d lost all sense of time and was not sure if hours or days had passed. Dizziness kept the room spinning and lack of water had him gasping for each harsh and painful breath. His right eye had opened slightly, but ‘twas useless to him, for the milky film that covered it, left him nigh blind. The ache in his chest had eased somewhat, but not enough that he was able to muster much sensation and feeling back in his limbs.
His men worked together on their manacles and had loosened them to a great degree. The soldier next to him, after a few more twists would soon be free.
Rourke’s thoughts whirled with images of Alexa and he tried to push her face away, but he could not. It was what was driving him. The thought of her energized him and he held onto her image in his struggle not to succumb to the weakness taking over his limbs. Before he drew his last breath he prayed he'd survive any wounds Raven inflicted upon him long enough to make it back to her so he could tell her that he loved her.
His mouth turned down in anger when he heard the jangle of the keys in the lock. Mayhap it was the jailer returning once again to give water to his men.
Rourke’s anger ballooned into rage when Raven’s dark head appeared. The man looked drunk, which could be a dangerous thing for him and his men.
Rourke made a sound to the young soldier next to him to stop working at his links.
The room was quiet outside of heavy breaths.
Raven stood in the middle of the room and stared at him. Rourke knew immediately what he was planning to do.
"Come to exact your pound of flesh, Raven?"
Raven's response was the slow curl of his lips into an evil grin as he replied, “Ever the arrogant bastard. I’m going to enjoy every minute of this.”
His guards rushed in and started a fire in the wall pit. Rourke couldn’t see what else they did, but he heard the metal scraping of tools. The gasp from the young soldier at his side told him what he already knew.
The torture weapons.
Raven walked further into the room and made a slow show of pulling on his leather gloves. Rourke knew all too well how deep and dark Raven's barbaric depravity ran, he'd seen it firsthand and had survived it years ago. Now, Rourke prayed he'd survive it once more.
When the jailer came over and handed the long tongs out to Raven, Rourke sucked in a deep breath.
The tongs would sear his flesh and be painful, but bearable Rourke knew. He’d bite off his own tongue before he’d cry out. He just hoped he remained conscious.
The jailer's hands holding the red hot steel tongs shook badly. Rourke waited for the torture weapon to fall on Raven’s foot.
“What are you waiting for fool? Do it!” Raven shouted at the man.
The jailer looked on in incredulous fright from Raven to Rourke and stuttered out his response, “I-I cannot. The Dark Axe- he can reach from anywhere to get at us.”
Enraged, Raven cracked the jailer against the side of the head with the back of his hand. “Imbecile! Do it or find yourself chained to that wall next to him.”
The jailer, reduced to a blubbering mass, dropped the tongs just missing Raven’s booted foot and backed away. Raven gave orders to two guards and they each grabbed the jailer by an arm. Raven bent and picked up the tongs and waved them under the jailer’s nose.
Rourke knew his intent and gritted his teeth.
“He is but flesh and bone… like us. Therefore he can be wounded… like us. Trust me, I well know it.” Raven turned swiftly and pressed the hot iron into the exposed tender flesh under Rourke’s right arm.
Skin burned, popped and sizzled.
Red hot pain ripped through his body as the blade burned layers of his flesh away. Yet Rourke uttered not a word, breathing heavily in his struggle not to blackout.
He knew the bastard wanted to elicit some kind of reaction from him, but he would not give Raven the satisfaction. He was no longer that youth whom Raven had aimed to kill years ago. He held on to the fact, that when he got out of these chains, he would relish killing him.
Boiling with rage that his action did not exact the measure he wanted, Raven reared back with a snarl. Removing the weapon, he turned on the jailer. He nodded to the two guards holding the shorter man and the jailer fought, but ‘twas futile.
Hot heat still clung to the tongs and Rourke watched through a searing haze of pain as Raven stuck the iron to the jailer’s cheeks.
The man’s high pitched wailing seemed to satisfy Raven and he motioned for his men to remove him from the room.
He handed the tongs to another guard and said, “To hear the Dark Axe yelp like that would be the best gift the almighty could bestow upon me. A lesson learned I am sure. Now the next time I expect to hear the same from you. Hmm?”
Rourke said nothing and only stared at him. Raven arched a brow and said to the nearby guard, “Put salt in his wound and rub it deep. I will be back in an hour or two to tear his flesh slowly from his bones.”
Rourke groaned in frustration when the soldier next to him yelled. “Bastard! You will never get away with this.”
“Nay,” Rourke said hoarsely through clenched teeth.
‘Twas too late. The smug grin Raven turned on the soldier told Rourke the boy had sealed his fate.
"Leave him be," Rourke said on a forced painful breath hoping to salvage the situation. "Your quarrel is with me. Take me down and do what you will."
"Mercy for your man, eh? What do you think of it, John?"
John, one of the guards, stepped forward. “He is awfully young, my lord.”
Raven shot the guard an offensive look and growled out, “Go see if there is word from the watchers.”
John left with another guard in tow. Raven turned back to him, “Worry not, Dark Axe, your time is coming. But not yet. As for this wet behind the ears whelp, I think time has come to teach him how to respect his betters. What think you, Rourke? Will he be a good student?”
A painful cough stopped Rourke from speaking again when Raven dragged the blade of a short dagger he’d pulled from his waist of miniature weapons and down the side of the soldier’s face, drawing a trickle of blood.
The remaining guards in the room laughed and egged Raven on.
Rourke gave a look to his other men to be quiet before he turned his eyes back to the young soldier.
He could see the fright in the soldier's eyes but he also saw the bravery there as well. The kid would face his death. Rourke could only hope it would be swift.
"Raven. I’m going to enjoy killing you." Rourke said with conviction.
"If I didn’t know better, I’d say you actually believe that,”' Raven laughed, adding sarcastically, "You and my brother tried that once and failed. You will fail this time too and rot in this hellhole. Your flayed carcass will be fodder for the crows and ravens.”
“He will come hunting for you,” Rourke’s dead calm voice broke through Raven’s cackle of laughter.
“That is the idea! After all he is next. I’m going to take and destroy everything my dear brother has right before his eyes, and then I will kill him slowly.”
Raven shrugged his shoulders and said with a nervous laugh, “Your stalling is only going to make it worse for your man, Dark Axe. God knows I wish I had split you to your skull that day as well.” Raven motioned for his men to continue.
Rourke locked his gaze with the young soldier until they removed his chains and strapped him down to the table, blocking his view from him.
The guards held the struggling boy down and the ache in Rourke tore through him as he watched the heathens pour from a spout a stream of yellow liquid and excrement down the soldier’s throat.
The soldier fought not to swallow, but he had little choice as he gagged and coughed up the revolting mixture. The spray of filth flew all over the two guards as they held their large hands over the soldier’s nose.
Rourke roared, fought and raged against his chains like a madman, helpless and drawing blood at his raw wrists in agony over the torturous act. His heart ached for the loss of another young life because of him.
The guard’s laughter and Raven’s resonated off the dungeon walls as the young soldier fought for his breath, his body convulsing and struggled beneath them until he moved no more. They removed their hands and continued laughing, before their eyes turned to Rourke. He wanted to kill every single one of them with his bare hands.
Their laughter died.
The silence was deafening except for the sniffles of Rourke’s remaining men.
One of Raven’s guards swallowed so loudly, Rourke heard it through his haze of black rage. They must have read his promise in his eyes for the guards wiped their hands on their soiled tunics and averted their gazes. Raven growled over their cowardice and waved them out of the room as he followed. At the door he turned back and spoke to the rest of Rourke’s men.
“Well then. That will be the fate of the lot of you if you dare speak out to me again.”
Rourke wanted to be sick and he nigh choked on the bile as his eyes rested on the young soldier's still form.
He closed his eyes and made a vow. He would get vengeance for the many lives lost here and would see that their families were seen to if he made it out of here alive.
His own painful groans drew him from his dark dreams and Rourke opened his eyes to darkness. The single lit torch shed little light inside the reeking dungeon, but he could make out his men huddled together and asleep on the floor. He let out a sigh of relief when his eyes fell on the table to see that they had removed the body of the young soldier.
Rourke dropped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Doubt set in.
He had to come to the realization that they may not make it out of here.
He’d no way to reach the knives in his boots, he wasn’t even sure if they still remained intact and hidden. Even Raven didn’t know his little secret. Were he to get even one hand free, Rourke knew he would be able to get free.
He banged his head back against the wall in frustration. His mortality hit him like a crushing weight and he was not ready.
His heart burned, strained for his wife.
Closing his eyes, he inhaled and swore he smelled her scent and working his tongue, he tasted the sweet taste of her flesh on the tip. He let out a small laugh.
He was going mad.
He whispered aloud into the darkness, “Alexa.” Like a chant her name went over and over in his head until he drifted off to sleep with the memories of her.
Rourke woke shivering and delirious later, the stinging pain in his side itched like a hundred hornets were attacking him. His men were groggy, but awake and greeted him.
He opened his mouth to ask how far any of them may have gotten with their chains when the keys were heard and Raven entered with his troop.
Immediately Rourke knew something was wrong.
Raven burst in and instructed his guards to grab his remaining soldiers. His men fought wildly for their lives, but Raven’s men had weapons. Raven came and stood near Rourke.
“The watcher sent word that William’s men and yours are coming from the east. Ah, what your liege will not do for your rescue, bastard.”
Who was running the lead Rourke wondered. Had Goran made it back and sniffed out the trail? But now, Rourke was concerned about his men fighting Raven’s in the corner. Goran and the king’s men would not make it in time to save them.
Rourke hung his head as the guards ran his soldiers through, their cries of pain would haunt him for many nights to come and he glared death into Raven’s eyes.
“Take him down and get him to the table! Quickly!” Raven ordered with a snarl just as the guard John and his partner entered the room.
The tension in the room grew even thicker when all eyes fell on what John carried.
Rourke's axe.
The guard threw it to the dirt floor. Raven's face morphed into one of black rage and curses flew from his mouth before he faced John and spoke each word slowly.
"What the hell is that doing here?"
The air in the room shifted ominously and Rourke felt it.
These men weren’t the fools Raven had thought. Their fears and superstitions had gotten the better of them. Facing the wrath of a powerful overlord was one thing, but to suffer William’s swift and ruthless justice had obviously given them pause and Rourke knew the instant Raven noticed.
Too late he reached for the axe at his waist when the first man, John’s partner, swung his dagger, cutting the back of Raven's hand. Then John swung his long dagger across Raven's back, slashing deep and he fell to his knees with a shocked cry of bloody outrage at the mutiny.
The other guards ran from the room, but John and his partner remained and quickly unlocked the poles holding the manacles in place. Rourke’s arms dropped as though weighted down by stone to his sides. He was too weak to fight and thought they sought to end his life too.
But they surprised him when John’s partner spoke over him, not too close, but close enough for him to hear.
"You remember 'twas me and Johnny here that set you free. My horse is out front tied to a big tree. Take it and go. Don’t go forgetting, Dark Axe, 'twas us that set you free."
Rourke could say naught for a paralyzing coughing spasm seized him as he tried to draw in a painful breath. When he next lifted his spinning head, not only were the two men gone.
So was Raven.
Rage filled him anew as he struggled to his feet with the chains dragging like lead across the dirt. It took a bit of effort to pick up his axe, but once it was in his hands, Rourke felt a pulse of adrenaline pump through his veins.
He spotted blood droplets leading out the door. The cuts they'd delivered to Raven had not been enough to kill him. Had the men dragged him out or had the Raven escaped death once again?
Rourke considered the two men could have easily been lying to him, but he was in too much pain to worry of another ambush as he dragged his aching body, axe in hand out of the hellhole and through piles of debris of the rundown wood and mortar manor to the outside.
When he saw the horse tethered to the tree, Rourke expelled a painful breath and hope filled his chest. He’d only one thing on his mind.
Get back to Alexa.
Rourke’s prayers continued to work in his favor when he saw what he believed were more of either Raven’s or Richard’s men sacked out front. The fool’s lost in cheap drink lay flopped over barrels and the ground in their own piss and snores.
Clucking his tongue to the big horse, Rourke managed to untie the beast and climb up onto its back after a brief struggle. The horse was skittish at first from the sound of the irons at his wrist and the large axe. The horse was not as strong or as big as Black, but sturdy enough to get him hopefully where he needed to go. Leaning down, Rourke felt along the top of his boots with numb and stinging fingers and slid the last two blades from their hidden compartment and tucked them into the top of his
breeches.
In the dark, with his sight still not all that great and his strength weakening by the hour, Rourke knew he would need the small knives to be at a closer reach if he ran into any surprises. He was still too weak to swing his axe.
Shirtless, Rourke did not know if he shivered from the cold, the pain or the fever coming on from the blistering wound under his arm. Ignoring the blazing hot pain that caused his teeth to chatter, he took the reins and turned the horse round and rode into the trees crouched over the horses’ neck with a prayer that he rode east.
THIRTY-SIX
Dawn had come cold as ever, but the sun beat brightly through the windows lighting up the chamber and warming her heart. The healer’s words from last night came back to Alexa.
She would not suffer her mother's curse.
She was not barren after all.
Quickly dressing, she left the chamber with the guards behind her. She didn't go to the room she had gone to for the past sennight. She walked through the manor to outside and crossed to the end of the wall walk.
The cold snap of the morning turned her cheeks red, and she loosened the cloak she wore around her shoulders and let the cold seep deeper into her flesh. The guards watched her.
Her hair unbound, wild and the wind had its way with her and whipped it around her like a whip across her torso and long legs encased in the breeches she had donned. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. She heard a commotion near but ignored it. The cold was like a cleansing of her soul and when she next opened her eyes, Alexa stared at that spot she'd looked to for a fortnight. The hilly marsh.
Turning she saw that Goran had joined her husband's men.
He gave her a curious and concerned look. "My lady?"
"Ready everything. He still lives. We shall ride out and meet him."
Goran's concerned expression changed quickly to deep anguish.
Alexa tied her hair into a fast and sure knot and gave him a smile. "I am not mad, Sir Goran. Come, ride out with me. All of you."