Dark Warrior

by Donna Fletcher

  She thought to be brave and help Michael, but she found she could not investigate the dungeons, the horrible smell forcing her to keep her distance. How would she ever live a life filled with such horror?

  After sitting for a spell she picked at the food, and finding herself not hungry she went to the bed to rest. It was well into the afternoon when she woke with a start. She heard shouts and loud voices and instantly assumed Decimus had returned.

  She hurriedly dressed in the dark green tunic and shift, her hair still plaited and her eyes still droopy with sleep when she descended the stairs to the hall. She heard the bravado in the warriors’ voices. They obviously were pleased about something, and she hoped it was not because they had found the escaped prisoners.

  Mary entered the hall and came to an abrupt halt. There on his knees before a circle of warriors was Roarke, beaten and badly bruised and bleeding. She almost rushed forward and demanded that they release him, but she held her tongue knowing her actions would prove more disastrous than beneficial.

  Roarke appeared to think the same for he caught sight of her out of the corner of his bruised eye, almost swollen shut, and shook his head.

  “My husband?” she questioned the warriors, though no one in particular. They all seemed too concerned and pleased with their capture of Roarke.

  “Delayed,” one man answered as if she were unimportant.

  “How long?” she queried.

  “As long as it takes,” another barked. “He hunts the Dark One and will soon have him.”

  Mary looked to Roarke with eyes that begged him to tell her Michael was safe.

  He mouthed a word that none noticed but her. Never.

  They would never capture the Dark One and the thought relieved her, though Roarke’s capture worried her. She could not let him be tortured and made to suffer unspeakable cruelty. She had to find a way to set him free.

  “My husband ordered you to wait upon him.” Mary spoke with a firmness that startled the warriors. “Remember well his orders; he does not condone disobedience.” She hoped his orders were consistent with what had transpired last night. It seemed that nothing was to be done to prisoners until his arrival.

  She hoped her reminder would cause them to leave Roarke alone in a cell, maybe then she could find a way to free him and keep him from suffering before Decimus returned.

  One warrior spoke up. “We know well our duties.”

  “Then see that they are done,” she said sharply.

  The men were uncertain how to react to her authoritative manner. They did, however, know what Decimus expected of them, and the dire consequences of any action that did not meet with his approval.

  They hauled Roarke off to the dungeon with mutterings and murmurs that they did not wish her to hear.

  She returned to her room to think, and every step of the way wished she could contact Michael. Once in the chair by the window she shook her head. It would not be wise for Michael to enter the fortress, though no doubt he had on other occasions. The man simply could enter and exit any building at will. She often wondered how he did it.

  Decimus was bound to return soon, once he realized that the Dark One had escaped him yet again. He would probably be in a rage and who better to take his anger out on than a man associated with the Dark One.

  She had to set Roarke free.

  That would mean descending into the dungeon, but Decimus’s wife would not be granted permission to enter.

  But a servant lad baring food for the guards would.

  She could don a cap to cover her blond hair, wear a loose shirt and jacket to hide her breasts, and smudge dirt on her face. But where to get the clothes?

  When she had been down in the cook area she had wandered out a door and noticed horses stabled close by. There were bound to be stable boys who made their home with the animals. She could find the garments she needed there.

  But first she would need to make certain the servants would not look in on her. If they discovered her gone, the fortress would be in an uproar.

  A servant girl returned for Mary’s food tray just as she finalized the plans in her head. Would her idea work? She could not dwell on her plan failing. She had to take the chance or Roarke would suffer, or perhaps die.

  “I am feeling rather poorly,” Mary said with a heavy sigh.

  The young girl looked nervous. “Should I send the healer?”

  Mary had not thought the fortress to have a healer. People suffered here, they did not heal.

  “It is not necessary,” Mary assured her. “Little sleep is the cause and I can see to taking care of that. I intend to sleep. Please make sure no one disturbs me. When I wake I will send for you.”

  The servant obliged with a nod. “I will let no one disturb your rest.”

  “I appreciate your help,” Mary said, relieved part of her plan was going smoothly.

  Mary waited, giving the servant girl time to return downstairs, then she opened the door and seeing no one there, she slipped out. She had to walk through the kitchen and she did not know if the servant girl would be there. She could not take a chance and be recognized.

  In the great hall, she picked up a jug and carried it high so that it partially hid her face. She then took a deep breath, told herself to be confident, and entered the kitchen. She made her way around servants, all of them busy preparing food. With the size of the fortress there were many mouths to feed and that meant all day preparing food.

  She was grateful for the frantic activity. She slipped by without notice and once outside, she placed the jug in the corner. She would return for it. It contained mead and the guards would certainly enjoy a swig.

  The stable was busy, several young lads attending to the returned warriors’ horses. She kept to the dark corners of the stable, much like the Dark One did when he was in a room. She did not want to be noticed; this was not a good place for her to be.

  She made her way carefully to a small room to her right just beyond the entrance. Once inside she was grateful to see that it contained clothes, boots, caps, and cloaks for the lads use.

  She wasted not a minute in gathering what she needed and made her way out of the stable. With all the activity no one noticed her, and she scooped up the jug of mead as she hurried to a large door around the side and to the back of the stable.

  She had discovered the location of the door that morning and saw that it exited into the inner courtyard of the fortress. Where she would go from there, once she freed Roarke, she was not certain. But together they would figure something out.

  She changed in the shadows, rolling her own clothes into a bundle to leave by the door. She would change again on her return. After tucking her braid firmly beneath the knit cap and smudging her face and hands with dirt, she grabbed the jug of mead and headed for the dungeon.

  No one paid her mind and she was pleased. Her disguise worked well, giving her more confidence in her plan. Doubts itched at her, though, when she descended into the dungeon; and the stench turned her stomach and it refused to settle.

  I will not be sick. I will not.

  She chanted the words over and over in her head.

  It was a dark and dismal place, torchlight being her only guiding step. She heard the rattle of chains and the clang of a hammer on metal. She swallowed back her fear and proceeded down the dank hall until it suddenly widened considerably and cells appeared on both sides of her.

  Small openings with metal bars that sat high in the doors were the only way of seeing the prisoner within.

  “What business have you here, lad?”

  She turned, startled by the strong voice and even more startled to see Edmond, the man her husband had spoken to upon their arrival. He was more wide than tall. He looked as if he did nothing but eat, so large was his size. His nose was flat, his head bald and his face dripping with sweat. He held a metal bar in one hand, the pointed tip glowing red with fire.

  “Mead,” she said in a low gruff voice, holding the jug out to him.

>   He eyed her suspiciously.

  She had expected reluctance. Decimus had trained his men well. They were not to trust under any circumstances.

  She stood tall, her big jacket concealing her breasts. “I will be a warrior for Decimus one day, and I came to see where I will bring the sinners I will capture.”

  Edmond braced the metal rod against the wall and reached out to take the jug from the lad. “You sound a strong one.”

  “I am, nothing will prevent me from succeeding with my plans.”

  “Good,” he said and wiped his arm across his mouth after having taken a swig. “Have some.” He held the jug out to her.

  Mary took the jug, held it to her pursed lips, and let the mead flow down her chin. She returned the jug to him and wiped her chin on her sleeve.

  “You are a good lad.”

  “Where are the warriors?”

  “Celebrating with the women,” Edmond said with a grin and took another swig.

  Mary had no doubt Decimus would frown on such a sinful celebration, so they enjoyed themselves in his absence.

  This was something she had not expected but could work to her advantage.

  “They do not include you?”

  He was swigging hard on the mead, the liquid dribbling down his thick chin. “Someone needs to watch the prisoner.”

  “There is only one?”

  He nodded. “The others escaped, but not this one. He will suffer.” He pointed to the metal rod and smiled at the still glowing tip.

  Mary thought she would retch. The man actually appeared as if he took pleasure in torturing people. She had to get Roarke out of here. Edmond looked eager to set to work on the new prisoner.

  “I will watch the prisoner for you.”

  Edmond glared at her. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “I am to be a warrior for Decimus.” She spoke as if he insulted her. “I will serve my lord well and do him proud.”

  Edmond gave a firm nod. “You will make a fine warrior.”

  “Then give me this chance to prove myself and for you to enjoy yourself.” Mary grinned as she hoped a man would.

  He laughed and snorted. “A good lad you are. Let no one near him.” He pointed to the cell at the end and to a key ring hanging on a peg on the wall beside the cell. “I will not be long.”

  “I do not mind guarding the prisoner.”

  Edmond grinned, his look pure evil. “I get my pleasure in many ways, the best being from the screams of the prisoners.” He laughed, the jug firm in his hand as he walked off and disappeared into the dark corridor.

  Mary forced back the bile that rose in her throat and hurried to grab the keys on the wall. She fumbled with them, her hands trembling horribly.

  “Roarke,” she said, “I am here to free you.”

  Chapter 29

  “Mary?” Roarke asked emerging from the dark cell.

  “Hurry, we do not have much time,” she urged and reached out to take his hand.

  He looked more bruised and battered than when she had seen him only a couple of hours ago.

  “Are you able to walk?”

  “I will walk, do not fear.” But he clung to her, and she squeezed his hand to let him know she was there for him.

  “We must get out of here before Edmond returns.”

  “What of Decimus?”

  “He searches for the Dark One,” she said slipping her shoulder beneath his arm and helping him to walk.

  “A useless search,” he said and leaned on her.

  His injuries concerned her. She did not know how serious they were or if they would hamper his escape.

  They climbed the staircase more slowly than she cared to.

  “You are in pain?” she asked.

  “No pain that will keep me from doing what is necessary.”

  She took him to a dark corner of the great hall and sat him down to rest. “Wait here, I will return in a moment.”

  Mary hurried to where she left her clothes, changed quickly, making a bundle of the clothes she had worn. She was glad for the flurry of activity in the fortress for it kept everyone busy with their work. She appeared a servant who raced about as everyone else did.

  She left the smudges of dirt on her face, then hurried to return to Roarke.

  “Put this on,” she urged Roarke as she handed him the knit cap she had worn and the jacket. She took smudges of dirt from her face and wiped them on his.

  He did not protest and did as she instructed, though he voiced his concern. “You may suffer for this.”

  “Only if I get caught.”

  “Michael would be proud,” he said with a smile and grabbed his side.

  She again supported him with her shoulder. “We need to get through the kitchen and out the back. There we must find a way to get you out of the fortress’s inner courtyard. We must appear a couple ready to sneak off to enjoy ourselves.”

  Roarke nodded.

  They clung to each other, smiling and laughing as they walked through the hall into the kitchen.

  They kept to themselves, hugging each other, and several smiles were sent their way, a few men nodded at Roarke. They were out of the kitchen and down the path to the door behind the stable in no time. Once through it they braced themselves against the stone wall, even though the rain fell heavily upon them.

  Mary could tell that Roarke was exhausted and would not make it much farther.

  “You need to rest before you continue your journey,” she said, thinking where he would be the safest. “Is Magnus’s land far from here?”

  “A few hours by horse.”

  “Then I need to get you a horse.”

  Roarke looked alarmed. “You will not place yourself in danger for me.”

  “I will see you safe.”

  “You have done enough, Mary, leave the rest to me.”

  She shook her head. “You are in no condition to do anything but mount and ride to safety.”

  “And how do you propose that I ride out of here without drawing attention?”

  “A diversion.”

  “You are as brilliant as Michael.”

  She smiled though it faded quickly. “When you see him tell him I miss him.”

  “I am sure his message is the same for you.”

  It did not take much to create the diversion, she simply began yelling from the dark corner of the fortress that the Dark One was here.

  Panic ensued and she was quick to harness a horse and take it to Roarke.

  “Everyone is in a panic and rushes about. You will disappear in the chaos.”

  They joined in with the chaos in the courtyard. It seemed as though everyone was in fear. The animals seemed uncontrollable, which served Roarke well for his horse became agitated and he fought to control her as he nudged her to the exit.

  Mary hid in the shadows and yelled out that she saw the Dark One enter the fortress and everyone scurried about calling for the warriors, who emerged with a flourish from the hall.

  Mary helped Roarke guide the agitated horse out of the fortress and into the woods just as the drawbridge slammed shut.

  “Ride fast and hard to Magnus,” she urged, helping him to mount. “He will see that you are safe.”

  “What of Decimus?”

  “He will not hurt me. He has plans for me, and besides no one can prove I did anything. It was a young lad who freed you. Now go before they send warriors out to search.”

  “God bless you, Mary,” he said choking back tears and guiding the horse into the thick darkness of the woods.

  The rain pelted her as she watched Roarke disappear. Magnus would see to his care and he would be safe there. She only wished that she were going with him. She took her time returning to the fortress, hoping she would be able to sneak back in and wondering what excuse she could use if she were caught.

  She approached the drawbridge, which had been lowered, and hesitated, bracing herself against the stone wall. Riders were coming and she did not wish to be seen.

&nbs
p; Her breath caught when she saw her husband, his black cloak flying out behind him, his wet dark hair plastered to his head, and his eyes glowing red-hot with anger. He was in a fury, the two riders behind him keeping their distance.

  The horses’ hooves pounded upon the wooden drawbridge as they crossed it in a frantic gallop.

  Decimus had returned.

  Mary snuck her way across the drawbridge, lurking in the protection of the dark shadows. She was wet to the bone, her clothes soaked through, her hair sopping wet. But it did not matter; Roarke was free.

  Decimus was screaming at his men as Mary moved along the shadows of the fortress wall, inching her way closer to the entrance that would allow her to enter the kitchen and make her way to her bedchamber.

  “You capture this Roarke and then he escapes? And how do you explain the escape of the other prisoners?” He looked down at his men from where he sat on his horse as if judging and condemning them all.

  The warriors cowered around him.

  Decimus looked from one man to another, his dark eyes searing each one of them. “I think there is a traitor among you.”

  They all protested mightily, swearing they were all loyal to him.

  “Then tell me how this Roarke escaped?”

  They all turned to look at Edmond.

  The large man trembled and stuttered as he spoke. “A young lad—he—he offered to—to watch the prisoner.”

  “What young lad?” Decimus asked, the rain pouring down on him and his men.

  “I—I—I did not get his name.”

  “You left a prisoner with a young lad who you did not know?” Decimus dismounted and walked over to Edmond.

  The large man stepped back, fear evident in his eyes. “He told me he was to be one of your warriors.”

  Decimus looked to his men. “Gather all the lads in the fortress and bring them to the hall. Edmond will identify our traitor.”

  A shout rang out from the door to the fortress.

  “Lady Mary is not in her room.”

  “Damn,” Mary mumbled. Now what was she to do?

  “Search the fortress and the grounds,” Decimus ordered. “I want her found.”