by Arms, Angie
The Lethal Flame
Angie Arms
©2013 by Angie Arms
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means-for example, electronic, photocopy, recording - without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Chapter 1
1194 Langley Castle, England
“Stand together!”
The voice rumbled from outside the castle walls, making the hair on the back of Keri’s neck stand up. She looked over the wall and saw him, atop his gray horse, riding before his troops, sword in the air. He reached the end of the line of men and whirled his magnificent animal around, it pivoted on hind legs, half rearing. The man spurred his horse to charge toward the walls, his blood curdling cry rang above all the other noise of war. Reaching the wall he brought the horse to an abrupt halt, sending it to its haunches. Even though he was one man alone, fear shot to the very marrow of her bones. His helmet covered his head, but she imagined demon eyes looking straight up at her. This man would kill her. She saw the death scattered around her walls this man brought and there was no doubt in her mind. She smelled it in the air from the blood he and his men spilled but mostly she felt its cold fingers brush her skin as she stared down at The-man-on-the-gray-horse. He saw her, how could he not? She had been on the parapets for four endless days and she watched men she knew, and had grown up with die throughout those days. He moved faster than Langley’s arrows, at least in the first two days. Since then there were not enough arrows to spend on such a pointless endeavor.
He pivoted and charged back to his men, dismounting in front of them, his horse barely slowing before he leapt from its back. He stood and his sheer size among the rest of his men intimidated her even out of his reach.
She knew they would charge again. As she braced herself she wondered why this man would give them this warning. But deep down she knew it was not for their benefit he did this. It was for his men. For those he led to battle, some to their deaths. He was showing nothing could touch him, no arrow could pierce his heart, and no sword could lay him low. He showed his men he was strong and brave. He showed them they should fight as fearlessly as he. Having watched him lead his men against her walls for four days, unrelentingly she knew this man would win. She didn’t have to look at the carnage around her to know, she had only to look at the man leading those against her.
The king’s men charged. She looked down at the battle ax in her hand. It had already shed the blood of his men as they tried to scale the walls. Keri’s men were depleted while others ran. Her husband’s men had deserted them before the gates could even be closed. Deserted the man who had supported John for the crown of England and now King Richard the Lionheart had sent these men to take care of the traitors. It was sweet justice for her husband to be abandoned as he had abandoned his king, if only their children were not here. She had no choice but they couldn’t hold out any more yet they had come too far to stop now. They had given up too much, lost too many of the men who had come with her to wed Bryson. Men she had grown up with and men who tried to protect her from her own husband and his people. She vowed she would not stop fighting while she had breath in her body.
They came in a rush, like a deadly storm and just as unstoppable. Yells and screams filled the air, and she met her first foe, slicing into him, nearly taking off his head. One after another came at her, her arms grew heavy, the wall under her feet grew slick with blood but they would not stop. Alec, the commander of her guard pulled her out of the way and led her behind him as the line on the wall began to break. They raced across the parapets, down the stone steps into the courtyard. The gates were about to burst and it was time to make their final stand. The wall where she just stood just moments ago was teaming with the enemy as they brutishly slay her people as if their attackers were the devil’s minions sent from hell.
Keri glanced over her shoulder at the hall, where her son and daughter hid. Perhaps they would be spared in the end. Alec tried to throw his arm out to block her path but she dodged around it to take her stand at his side. She glanced to her right and saw two more of the men she had grown up with, Patrick and Donald. They too were ready to have their final blood spilled to protect Keri for they knew the king’s men would kill her.
“For Bewcastle,” Alec called bravely, his sword raised in the air. Keri thought fleetingly what a shame it was they did not fight for Langley and her cowardly husband but for her and her true home she would never see again. It wasn’t that Keri hadn’t tried but too much was stacked against her to ever be a part of Langley and its people. Alec spared a moment to look at her and she knew he was trying to lock the memory of her inside his mind as she was doing with him. They had come a long way from the children who ran about in the corn playing hide and seek. The boys had taught her how to fight, how to wield the battle ax she now used with deadly precision. They had grown, lost and loved together through the years. Alec had gone away and returned a dashingly brave knight no one man could conquer, until now.
“For Bewcastle!” her voice joined his. The chorus of chant was taken up by those who stood with them and her heart was full of love for not only these men beside her but the past they shared.
The sound of the battering ram ricocheted within the walls, driving into her brain, sounding her own death knell. Suddenly the doors burst open and she braced herself as men and horses rushed in being led by The-man-on-the-gray-horse. She concentrated on the rhythm of her battle ax as she whirled it in the air above her head. The first two men rushed her and she sliced the first across the chest, opening such a wound she was drenched by the blood that poured and he dropped to his knees. The second backed away, sword raised as he watched her. Two more men came at her and she caught one with the blade in the neck and sliced across the other man’s torso in a quick reversal swing. The man who backed away took the opportunity his friends provided and moved within a sword’s length of her, intent on driving his weapon into her back but her swing severed his hand, the stump spurted blood but she had no time to give him another thought as the enemy kept pouring into the courtyard.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Donald take an ax to his blonde head and she felt her own knees grow weak. Nearly at the same time Patrick was hit in the head by a flail, she heard the blow and saw the blood spray from the wound. Keri sliced through a man who was intent on driving his sword in Alec’s back. She whirled the ax again, before anyone could close in on her as she lunged to protect Patrick. Patrick’s body was hit twice more before she could fend off his attackers and he fell to the ground. She turned back toward Alec but before she could stop it a sword was driven into his stomach, he fell to his knees, seeming to be suspended there as he looked up at her. Time was frozen for a moment and all that mattered was what she saw in her friend’s eyes, pain and defeat and her heart broke. His attacker jerked his sword from Alec, his head bent downward but a dark hood hid anything the man may feel, guilt or satisfaction, remorse or victory.
Keri’s arms flexed, setting the ax that had not yet stilled into a deadly arc over her head, stepping toward the man. The-man-in-the-hood immediately stepped back his head lifted and she felt his one eye on her as her legs came up against Alec who teetered on his knees. She kept the blades moving in an arc as she felt Alec’s weight leaning against her legs. She wanted to rest a hand on his shoulder, to offer him the comfort she could no
t as she stood her ground. She waited to be attacked, she wanted it. She wanted her blood spilled on the ground, for her body to be among those who had fought so bravely beside her but no one came at her. Exhausted the ax fell at her side. The men stood around her, watching but no one made a move toward her. She stood alone. Keri saw the bodies spread out around her and knew it was time to surrender because none of those who watched would bring her death at this moment.
The men seemed more curious then intimidated by her. The man behind the hood watched her, turning her blood cold as she stared at the big man whose face she could not see. She wondered fleetingly what the hood hid. Her panic began to rise as she felt Alec’s weight sagging onto her. He would die this day too. She spared a glance down at the top of her friend’s red hair. Then he stood in front of her, The-man-on-the-gray-horse, out of reach of the ax, beside the hooded man. His helmet still covered his face but he was bigger than she could have even estimated from the wall, as big as The-man-in-the-hood. He studied her silently. She could feel his demon eyes on her, taking her measure.
“Kill me,” she told him in a whisper, her throat too parched to make it the inarguable demand she had intended it to be. She intended it to be the voice she used for her children to obey. She felt a slight movement against her legs and a horrid sound came from Alec. The-man-on-the-gray-horse only stood there, his head cocked to the side as if he heard her and was deciding if that was how this day would end.
He pulled his sword, pointing the blade toward her, red from the blood of those he killed. She moved quickly, the ax rising as she lunged forward but no matter how quick she moved it could not be as quick as the man before her. He raised his sword taking the brunt of the impact on the blade and down his arm. Before she could pull the ax away he grabbed her around the waist, knocking her weapon from her hand as if she was a mere child with a stick. His gauntlet dug into her back, his mail into her chest as he pinned her against him. The men around him cheered but his attention was still on her as she fought to free herself. He had to kill her, now. He had to let her die with the honor she had fought for. She didn’t quiet until he physically picked her up off the ground and shook her.
He stood with her suspended before him and she wondered fleetingly what he saw in her. No ordinary woman for sure, many called her blasphemous how she ran about in tunic and hose but since his arrival she had taken it farther and wore a hauberk to protect her in the battle.
“Do you raise arms against your king?”
“I raise arms against you,” she said in defiance. Anger arose in her so quickly her peripheral vision took on a red hue. What did he expect her to do when he brought his soldiers to attack them? Was he some kind of idiot?
His hands tightened on her arms painfully. “I claim you as property of the crown,” he said and her anger grew for being considered nothing more than a piece of tapestry or a goblet. She squirmed again trying to lash out at him. He shook her then threw her over his shoulder and stalked away from the shattered gates. A sob threatened to escape her when she raised her head to see her friend still on his knees, and The-man-in-the-hood standing over him. Panic settled over her, The-man-on-the-gray-horse was taking her to the dungeon. The dark, dark dungeon filled with rodents and terrors beyond her imagining.
She fought him until her strength was drained, until she had no choice but surrender. He lit a torch at the top of the steps, his one strong arm sufficient to keep her under control. Down, down he took her, his armor digging into her, his strength holding her firmly against him.
Down deep into the pits of hell he took her, slinging her into a corner. Manacles attached to chains, attached to the wall were clamped around her wrists before she could get up. The-man-on-the-gray horse stood from her, the torch lighting his black armor, making him even more menacing. He was the devil himself. He could kill her now and no one would be there to witness it. He watched her for several moments before he pulled the helmet from his head. There he stood, torch in one hand, helmet in the other, poor weapons at best. If the chains were long enough she could have them wrapped around his neck before he could do anything. If she were to die at least he would be going with her.
She propelled herself from the floor, flinging herself at him but the chains brought her up short. Just a breath from him and he did not move, did not even flinch. She stood there in the face of the man who had conquered her and she felt her soul crumble because she knew she was his prisoner. The flame from the torch reflected off his gray-green eyes and she saw the battle still there, the adrenaline that had left her spent still hammered in his veins. A slow smile spread across his chiseled face, his teeth gleaming white in the light. She saw his chest rise and fall from the exertion of his battle. His dark hair, definitely brown but it was plastered to his head by sweat making its exact color indiscernible. It was a little lanky, unkempt but not falling beyond his strong jaw bone. His beard, it appeared as if it had been growing a few days and was not something this man would normally have, was a medium brown but with a hint of red. Right now the lips were pressed together, perfectly straight showing no hint of the man’s thoughts. His eyes studied her. The man was old enough to have lines etched at the outer corners of his disconcerting eyes. They sat a pleasant distance apart with his straight nose that rounded at the end, the nostrils flaring slightly in and out with his breath.
“Do you surrender?” he demanded of her.
“To you?” she smirked but she had never been so physically aware of another human being in her life. Their bodies were so close she felt his heat, so intense he might as well have been pressed full length against her. His eyes were weary, strained and she guessed a man such as he would have the weight of many deaths upon his shoulders. She wanted to draw closer to him, to tell him the war was over now, they could find peace and she knew she must be beyond exhaustion.
He studied her as if weighing his own question, his head cocked to the right. His eyes were intelligent, the gray ring around their outside seemed to enhance the dark gray fading into the green that ringed the pupils. He leaned closer, his mouth near her ear. She smelled battle upon him, death, but she felt overwhelmed by the sheer power of this man so close to her. “I watched you on the wall,” his voice came out in a near whisper and the heat of it made her jerk. “I could not help but wonder what manner of woman it was I watched.”
Keri did not understand the turmoil of emotions that was ricocheting through her body at his nearness. It pulled her to him, made her warm and vulnerable which made her stiffen in alarm. This was her enemy, he had threatened her children, killed her friends all in the name of some king she could give less of a shit about. King Richard was after all the man who told her she had to marry Bryson, which put her in this place. If she had her choice she would still be at home, safe with Alec and all the others. “I will not surrender,” she spat at him, turning her head to the side to glare at him.
She found herself pinned against the wall, his sword at her throat. “I am to secure all his majesty’s property and slay those who resist his rule.” Cold, cold eyes bore into her. Were they more gray or green? She shivered, she resisted, so this devil was going to kill her. He shoved away from her and left her standing against the stone wall. Halfway from the chamber he paused and looked back at her, his face now hidden in the darkness and she knew his intent.
She rose to her full height and lifted her chin in defiance. She would not beg him for that would mean she was surrendering which she would not do. He turned and the dungeon was plunged into utter darkness as he left with the torch.
~ ~ ~ ~
Damien stared at the carnage that never seemed to end. On Crusade with Richard had been different than this. There he did not have to destroy the homes and lives of his fellow countrymen. But these were hard times and he looked around himself at the hard men who called themselves soldiers. King Richard had sent them here, to take back his property from rebel control. From the control of those who might support Prince John. They were to wipe the rebels�
� bloodlines from the face of the earth and for the past two years Damien commanded it all.
Damien had served the crown under Henry II loyally until the crown was passed to his son Richard. Who in turn took Damien’s land until he proved his worth, upon which time the title of Lord and his property might be returned to him. Damien was not stupid. He knew Richard needed fighting men and that was one thing Damien had learned to do well. He fought battle after battle and never was he promised his title or his land back, only a vague reward dangled just out of his reach so he would continue to do the bloody work of the king. The man did not understand it was the crown itself, not the man. He would lay his life down for King Richard and if he failed to hold the crown for him he would lay it down for Prince John or whoever would wear the crown next. He was a soldier, a knight to the crown, it did not matter the man who wore it for he had taken an oath to himself long ago. Politics had no place in his position and its involvement would only destroy all he had built, and all he had protected.
Once Damien had been young and idealistic, vowing he would always do the right thing no matter what power was thrust upon him. Always it was the hardest battle he fought, for times were hard. Yet, for the most part, he had remained true to himself and there was nothing that could have made Damien accept this task. It seemed as if King Richard knew this. So he had taken Damien’s sister, as well as the sisters of some of the other men, some wives and children and they all lived under the threat of death if the men were not successful in wiping out the rebels.
Yet, when this was all done Damien would owe a debt to the devil himself, the Fenton Bastard. Damien thought the man had already paid his debt to the king and was free to go about his life, yet he volunteered to take half the properties the King sent Damien to destroy. Afterward they could meet at Featherstone and compare war stories and toast their hollow victories. Until then Damien had to wonder what debt a man such as Garrick Fenton would demand of him. His soul was already taken and Damien wondered as he looked around him what else he could possibly have to give.