Dark Deceptions

by Christi Caldwell

  Chrystobel laughed softly as Izlyn ran back to the garden to find Gart a flower. As she stood there, watching her sister disappear around the side of the keep, a big body walked up beside her and grabbed her around the waist.

  “Greetings, my lovely,” Keller said as he kissed her on the cheek. Then, he hissed when he realized how wet she was. “By God’s Bloody Rood, woman! You are soaked through.”

  She giggled. “I know,” she said. “I am returning to the keep, have no fear. But I should tell you something.”

  “What?”

  “Izlyn just told me she is marrying George and Gart is very upset that her affections have turned.”

  He pursed his lips wryly. “Gart will overcome.”

  “Gart said he is going to fight George.”

  “Then George’s days are numbered.”

  Chrystobel grinned at the jest, noticing that Keller kept turning around to see to his men’s state of readiness. She found herself looking at the army as well.

  “Are they nearly ready to depart?” she asked.

  Keller nodded, his gaze lingering on his men for a moment before turning to his wife. “Aye,” he replied. “Once they leave, you and Izlyn will stay to the keep and keep it locked. You will not come out, no matter what, and you will not open the door for anyone but me or my knights. Is that clear?”

  The conversation had taken a serious turn and Chrystobel nodded. “Aye,” she said. “I had better go and make sure there are enough provisions in the keep.”

  Keller nodded. “That would be a good idea,” he said. “I have no way of knowing just how long you are going to be trapped in there, so you’d better make sure you have everything you need.”

  Chrystobel eyed him. “And you?” she asked softly. “Where will you be during this time?”

  He heard the wistfulness in her tone and pulled her into his arms again. He had to get his fill of her before they were separated by necessity. This was a serious business they were about to face and although he was confident of victory, there were always unknown factors. It was those factors that concerned him.

  “Keeping to the shadows,” he said softly. “I have no way of knowing when your brother will decide to make his move, but I have a feeling I will not have to wait long. Therefore, I will be keeping to the shadows, in the kitchen mostly, waiting for him to make an appearance. You and I must be clear on this, Chrystobel – you must stay to the keep no matter what you see or hear. Is that clear? If you open that keep door, you expose yourself to terrible danger and I will not be able to focus for fear of your safety. If I cannot focus, then your brother might have the opportunity to gain the upper hand. He might even have the opportunity to kill me. Do you understand how serious this is?”

  Chrystobel nodded solemnly. “I do,” she said sincerely. “I promise I will stay to the keep no matter what.”

  He kissed her on the tip of the nose. “Good,” he replied. “Now, make sure you have enough provisions. I will return to you as soon as the army is gone to seal you up in the keep.”

  Chrystobel headed off, moving for the kitchens that were now filled with heavily armed men because the passage to the gorge had been unblocked. After giving Gart a small purple flower that had lost most of its petals, Izlyn joined her and together they finished gathering what they needed and had a few servants carry it all into the keep. There were dry stores, of course, beneath the small hall, which would hold them for quite a length of time, but Chrystobel made sure they had enough water to cook and wash with, and pots and utensils to eat from.

  In all, the keep was fairly self-sufficient, as it was meant to be. By the time they were moving the last water barrel into the keep, the last of the army was just leaving the gatehouse. Chrystobel stood at the top of the keep, watching the army trickle out and the portcullis slam down behind them. There was something very ominous about the finality of that event. Now, they were open to prying eyes. They would be watched. Gryffyn would be watching. The very thought made her shudder.

  Down in the bailey, Keller, Gart, Rhys, and William stood in a quartet near the portcullis. They, too, were watching the army as it faded down the road, blending in with the rainstorm. When the last man faded off, Keller turned to his knights.

  “And so it begins,” he said quietly. “D’Einen thinks he can easily retake Nether but I will assure him that he cannot. William, make sure we have a heavy presence of men around the postern gate. It is my fear that if one of the Welsh happens to break free of the passage, they will head straight for that gate to open it up. Rhys, make sure the gatehouse is secured. Once William has the postern gate secured, he will join you in the gatehouse. The walls and the gatehouse, and the postern gate, will be your domains. Make sure they are sealed. Gart, you will come with me to the kitchen. You and I will wait for the first foolish Welshmen to come through that passage.”

  The knights nodded, having their assignments given to them. “How far out will George and Aimery go before they turn around and come back?”

  Keller lifted a thoughtful brow. “They are undoubtedly being watched, so they must at least make a good show of heading in the direction of Hen Domen. I told them to head out six hours and then camp. My guess is that d’Einen will move upon us this day, but if not today, then tomorrow for certain. I have told George and Aimery to head back to Nether tomorrow before dawn. We must give d’Einen a chance to move, and we may need George’s reinforcements by the time they return.”

  “And if d’Einen has not moved yet?”

  “Then I send a messenger to George and tell him to wait until further notice,” Keller replied. “If George returns too quickly, it will spook the Welsh.”

  The plan was clear and the men headed to their posts, but not before moving to the keep where their armor was held. Now that the army was gone and the fortress was bottled up, they could dress in their protection without fear of someone sending word to d’Einen. Nothing was coming into the castle and certainly nothing was going out, especially a messenger. Nether was as secure as they could make it.

  Chrystobel was standing in the keep entry as the knights began to file in, heading for the armor they had stacked up in the small hall. A pair of young squires, the ones that had been part of Rhys and Gart’s troops, followed the knights from the gatehouse and began helping the men with their protection.

  As the small hall became crowded with knights preparing for battle, Chrystobel and Izlyn stood in the doorway, watching the men as they put on their layers of protection – padded tunics to avoid the itchiness of the mail, which went on top of the padding. Then came a heavy neck scarf to ease the weight and irritation of the hauberk for head and shoulder protection, and then another tunic on top of that one which usually helped secure the scabbard for the broadsword.

  It was quite a process although Izlyn in particular was watching the squires, who were about her age. They had mostly stayed to the gatehouse with the soldiers so she’d not seen too much of them. Now, she was watching the competent young men with interest as Gart noticed where her attention was. When she would look at Gart, he pretended to weep, jealous of her attention to the squires. Izlyn just giggled.

  Chrystobel, however, was completely focused on Keller as the man efficiently dressed. He was preoccupied, his mind on what lay ahead, and Chrystobel knew he was mostly focused on Gryffyn. Certainly, there was anxiety involving the Welsh that would be coming along with Gryffyn, but Keller was focused on Gryffyn alone.

  He should have killed the man the day in the great hall when he came upon Gryffyn as he prepared to kill Chrystobel and, had it not been for Gryffyn knifing him in the back, Keller was certain that Gryffyn’s life would have ended on that day. But Gryffyn had not made an easy catch or an easy kill, and Keller was tired of chasing the man. Granted, he had a new wife and a new castle that had cornered his attention, but the time had come to focus on Gryffyn once and for all. The time had come to eliminate the threat.

  Rhys and William were finished dressing first, saying their f
arewells to Chrystobel and Izlyn as they walked past the women and headed out of the keep. The squires soon fled, having nothing else to do, and Gart eventually came to say his farewells also. He accepted a smile from Chrystobel and a kiss on the cheek from Izlyn before heading out into the driving rain with his usual stalking gait.

  Finally, it became Keller’s time to say his goodbyes and as he came to stand before his wife, words seemed to fail him. He stood there a moment, gazing at her, before taking her by the hand and leading her back into the small hall and away from Izlyn’s big and curious ears. Izlyn started to follow but Chrystobel held out a hand to the girl, stopping her in her tracks. Chrystobel, too, wanted a few private moments with her husband. When they neared the feasting table, covered with maps and other things related to the administration of Nether, Keller came to a halt and lifted Chrystobel’s hand to his lips.

  “I am not an eloquent man,” he admitted, kissing her fingers. “I do not know what this day or even what tomorrow will bring, but I will leave you with these words – the day I met you was the day I started to live again, Chrystobel. I was terrified of you and you know that, but I learned to overcome my fear and I am so thankful that I did. Loving you is the best thing I have ever done.”

  Chrystobel’s eyes widened. “You… you love me?”

  He nodded, kissing her hand again. “I do,” he murmured. “Remember what I wrote to you? When I look at you, I see all things bright and pure. I see the magic of a new beginning. Every word of it is true and I love you more than words can express.”

  Tears popped to Chrystobel’s eyes and she threatened to crumble but she fought it. It was such a spiritual moment, so ripe with the glorious beauty that was love, and she wanted to savor every second of it. Keller opened his mouth and she heard angels singing. This place, this darkened Netherworld, had never heard such exquisite words uttered. Suddenly, it was a darkened place no longer. It was a place of hope.

  “What you have said to me,” she breathed, watching him kiss her fingers. “I have never thought to hear those words in my life. And I love you, too, so very much. You have shown me the glory and excitement and beauty of life. Everything I ever dreamed of, I found in you.”

  Keller pulled her into his arms, kissing her deeply and feeling every emotion and every dream she ever had pouring into him, sustaining him. He was fortified now, more than he had ever been in his life, and he would see this task through. He would emerge the victor. There was no other alternative. Kissing her one last time, he hugged her tightly.

  “Remember what I told you about staying to the keep,” he whispered. “Do not open the door no matter what you see or hear. You will only open it for me or Rhys or Gart or William. Is that clear?”

  Chrystobel nodded, suddenly very fearful for Keller’s safety. “It is,” she breathed. “You will be careful.”

  “I will.”

  She pulled back, gazing into his rugged face a moment before leaning forward, her forehead against his cheek.

  “Be well and be safe, husband,” she whispered. “Remember that I love you. I pray it gives you strength.”

  He pulled back, looking into her eyes with a knowing smile on his lips. “It gives me life,” he said softly. “Everything you are to me… it gives me life.”

  With another kiss, he left the hall, moving past Izlyn as the girl stood at the doorway and touching her cheek affectionately with a big hand. Moving out of the keep, he turned one last time to see Chrystobel and Izlyn coming up behind him in preparation for bolting the entry door. He couldn’t take his eyes off of his wife, the woman who had become his all for living. He’d never felt more powerful in his life.

  When Chrystobel blew him a kiss, he gave her a brief wave and quit the keep, hearing the door slam behind him and the big iron bolt being thrown. The women were safe now and he could focus on what needed to be done. He had a man to settle a score with.

  He had an enemy to kill.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  By cover of darkness, the Welsh finally made their move.

  It was raining heavily as Gryffyn, Colvyn, and one hundred and eight men made their way towards Nether Castle. Their scouts had returned earlier in the day to inform them that the English had taken the bulk of their army out of the castle, presumably heading for Hen Domen, and it was just as Gryffyn had predicted. He was confident that his plan was progressing as he had intended so as the rain pounded and the thunder rolled, he and Colvyn set out for Nether Castle.

  They set out from Castell Mallwyd on their shaggy ponies, racing down a rocky, uneven path that led from the heights of Colvyn’s castle down to the valley below. It was a small road that led southwest from Mallwyd, through a narrow valley until they came to the crossroads. The road to the left went on to Nether Castle while the road to the right went on to Machynlleth. As the rain poured and the dark night grew darker, they dismounted their ponies and hid them in a small vale near the crossroads, as they wanted to make their approach to the castle on foot. There was less chance of them being seen that way. It was another two miles to Nether from the crossroads.

  So they ran through the night, soaked to the bone by the cold Welsh storm, sliding on wet grass and passing near fields where wet sheep were huddled up for warmth. There were soldiers watching these sheep, Nether soldiers, so Gryffyn had warned Colvyn’s men to stay clear of those fields because the soldiers would launch their crossbows at them for fear they had come to steal the sheep. Colvyn’s men obeyed for the most part, sliding by the fields and staying low against the mossy stone walls to avoid detection.

  Nether soon became evident, high upon the crest of a hill that divided two great valleys. As Colvyn and Gryffyn drew near, Gryffyn called a halt and the men gathered. Coughing, wet, and uncomfortable, they tried to hear Gryffyn’s voice over the driving rain.

  “When it rains heavily like this, the Gorge of the Dead fills with water,” he said to those who could hear him. “It is possible that the gorge will fill up past the hidden entry in the rocks and if that is the case, we will have to swim underwater to get into the passage.

  The men looked at each other, thinking a swampy moat to be less than pleasant. “You never said anything about swimming in the moat,” one man said loudly. “We will be drowned!”

  Gryffyn shook his head. “It will not be deep enough for you to drown,” he assured them. “In fact, it will work to our advantage. As you make your way to the postern gate, stay low in the water and the sentries will have a difficult time seeing you. The path to the postern gate is clearly marked so you will have no trouble locating it. Once the gate has been opened, you will go directly to the keep. If we can take the keep, we can take the castle.”

  It seemed like a sound plan and the men settled down somewhat. Gryffyn turned to Colvyn. “We will take ten men with us to breach the passageway,” he said. “That should be all we need. We shall kill anyone in the kitchen and remain there, hiding, and send a man out to unlock the postern gate. I would do it myself but for the fact that if I am seen, I might be recognized.”

  Colvyn eyed him. Is it another trick to keep himself out of danger? “I will go unlock the gate,” Colvyn said. “I have been to Nether and know where the gate is.”

  Gryffyn was satisfied with that. The more he remained out of sight, the better. Waving an arm at the men, he motioned for them to follow his lead, across the rocky hillside, camouflaged by the wet gray rocks, before reaching the eastern side of the keep where the battlements had a blind spot because of the height of the parapet. Gryffyn took the lead, sliding down the side of the hill and stalking his way over to the Gorge of the Dead.

  Fortunately, there was only about three feet of water in the bottom of the gorge but it was filling quickly. It was terribly dark as they began to climb down the rocks into the moat but for a brief flash of lightning off to the north that illuminated the land for a split second. To a sharp sentry upon the wall walk of Nether, however, it was enough of a flash of light for him to catch sight of dozens of We
lshmen entering the Gorge of the Dead.

  He went on the run for William.

  * * *

  The worst part of an ambush was the wait.

  Keller and Gart had been in the kitchen since leaving Chrystobel in the keep, and that had been almost twelve hours ago. The sun had set and the kitchen was now dark but for a small fire in the hearth, and Keller had remained fixed by the hidden door that concealed the passage that led down into the gorge, waiting patiently. On the other side of the hidden door, Gart leaned against the wall, still and silent. He had, however, been yawning for the past hour, the only sign that the man was actually alive and breathing. Other than that, there had been no conversation and little movement. The knights, as well as twenty soldiers, were crowded into the dark kitchen in utter and complete silence.

  It was a waiting game. All day, Keller had been wracked with doubt. What if he had been wrong? What if Gryffyn hadn’t written that message, the one that Chrystobel had been positive that contained her brother’s handwriting? What if this had all been a horrible miscalculation and now here they were waiting on the receiving end of nothing. No Gryffyn, no Welsh, merely Keller and Gart, wasting their time. Keller could only pray it wasn’t true and that indeed he would be looking into Gryffyn d’Einen’s face soon. He had to rid his life of this evil that threatened everything he loved.

  A day of uncertainty turned into an evening of the same. Time passed with painful slowness. More waiting, and more silence. But that silence came to an abrupt end when William showed up in the kitchen a few hours after sunset. Having run all the way from the battlements, he was understandably winded.

  “The Welsh have been spotted, Keller,” he hissed. “As of two minutes ago, they were descending into the gorge from the northeast. Be ready!”

  Keller perked up, as did Gart. The yawning stopped. What they were waiting for was actually coming to pass and the smell of a battle instantly filled the air. They fed off it, bolstering their courage for what was to come. All of Keller’s doubts fled as he realized his instincts had been correct. Gryffyn was approaching!