The Dark Spawn (Battle Lords of de Velt Book 5)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  William, however, saw no irony in the statement. He was a man who controlled England, and with it, thousands of men, lords, and armies. He never did anything without a specific motive in mind, and his motive in sending Jax de Velt into Scotland was quite plain.

  Gart had said it best.

  Impact.

  With this much at stake, he wanted impact. But things could go wrong and sometimes, they did. William could only hope this was not one of those times. Therefore, he simply nodded coolly to Christopher’s suggestion.

  “Let’s hope so,” he muttered quietly. “God, I hope so.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  The siege of Fountainhall Castle

  Seat of Alpin Canmore

  It was a scene from old.

  Jax de Velt and his sons, Cole and Julian, had roused their army and marched on the Scottish fortress of Fountainhall because William Marshal had ordered it for a very specific reason –

  They wanted Fountainhall’s liege, Alpin Canmore.

  Set amongst the gently rolling hills of the Scottish Lowlands, where the rocks and hills and purple heather came together to form a landscape like no other in the known world, Fountainhall was a feather in the cap of Scotland’s borders. Stout and strong, built from granite quarried near Edinburgh, it was a statement to the English kings with their eyes on the prize of Edinburgh and points beyond. It was the guard dog at the gateway into the land of the Scots.

  Come and get yer pain, lads…

  Fountainhall taunted the English.

  But not today.

  Today, the fortress was taking a beating from the army of the most feared man in England, Scotland, and Wales.

  The Dark Lord and his horrific army had returned.

  No one had seen death and destruction like this on the border in thirty years. Jax had been tamed by his overlord, the Earl of Northumberland, and he’d sworn to a peace treaty that had worked very well, at least for the English. They left him alone and he left them alone.

  But the Scots hadn’t been part of that treaty.

  Unfortunately for Canmore, Jax’s lands were threatened by raiders coming from Canmore lands but, even worse, there was the rumor of a massive and terrible treaty on the wind, one that would more than likely affect Jax before anyone else because his properties were on the Scots side of the border. Jax had learned of the terrible treaty from his own son, perhaps the best spy the world had ever seen.

  Aye… Jax de Velt, the darkest knight of all, had raised a spy.

  But he’d also raised one of the most fearsome knights of his generation in Coleby de Velt, and when it was determined that the threat against de Velt properties was too great, the prompt from William Marshal was all Jax needed to mobilize that army of killers that he kept within his tall, pale walls. However, it was more than simply moving against Canmore because of the threat, for The Marshal had a very specific purpose in mind.

  A hostage.

  And the de Velt army rolled into Scotland like a tempest.

  It was chaos.

  It was a relatively short march to Fountainhall from Pelinom Castle, seat of de Velt. With a swift horse, it would take a full day, but with an army, it took a day and a half. Truth be told, Jax hadn’t marched for battle in such a manner in over twenty-five years. Given that his two properties, Pelinom Castle and Foulburn Castle, were on the borders, he’d seen his share of action. Reiver activity surged from time to time, and he’d been called into English disputes throughout the years, but he never fought the battles he used to fight. The blood, the brutality, the senseless death and destruction. Those tactics were a thing of the past.

  Until William Marshal asked him to unleash that monster again.

  Not strangely, it hadn’t been difficult to draw on the beast he used to be. It had never really gone away. Cole and Julian knew what their father was capable of, just like everyone else, but they’d never seen it at that level until their foray into Scotland.

  Then they became part of it.

  The Scots never stood a chance.

  Fountainhall Castle never really stood a chance, either. It was a walled and moated castle, but it wasn’t very large and the moat was hardly a deterrent to an English army with siege engines and ladders. Jax had brought everything he had with him and at noon on the day of his arrival, the siege of Fountainhall began in earnest.

  Unfortunately for the occupants, it didn’t take very long.

  Jax’s siege engines with iron projectiles blew holes in the yellow granite walls and destroyed the gatehouse. Once they were in the outer bailey, those same engines loaded up bombs of flaming oil and destroyed a second, smaller gatehouse that led into the complex of the castle. At that point, the army started to stream in and grab victims.

  No mercy.

  That was the order given by Jax who, in his sixth decade, was still an utterly terrifying and formidable knight. He was completely in control of his army and everything around him, and for sons who had never seen the monster their father had once been, they were seeing a new side to him that they didn’t recognize. It was startling and, admittedly, intimidating. About half of Jax’s forces were men who had been with him back in those days when The Dark Lord terrorized the borders, so they knew what to do when their liege gave the word and, like old times, they were also given permission to take anything of value.

  Spoils of war.

  Once the interior gatehouse was down, it was Cole and Julian’s task to find Alpin Canmore while their father and his army took care of the Scots. As they fought their way into the inner ward, prisoners were taken by the de Velt army all around them. Men who resisted were disabled on the spot. Not killed, but disabled, because a horrible death was planned for them. For the past six hours, Jax had men in the nearby woods, chopping down young trees and preparing the spikes that the Scots would soon be impaled with.

  That was Jax de Velt’s primary mode of submission when it came to an enemy army. Cole and Julian could hear the screams of the men as the poles were shoved into their bodies and, like Jesus Christ was hung upon the cross for an audience, those impaled bodies began to go up along the road leading to Fountainhall for all to see. It was absolutely horrifying.

  A macabre spectacle of dying scarecrows.

  But Cole and Julian weren’t focused on what was going on around them, only what needed to be done. They were focused on the keep specifically, which was actually built into the walls of the castle. There were multiple doorways and stairs from what they could see, but Cole was confident he would find what they needed.

  In fact, he’d already sent men ahead to gather what intelligence they would need to find their target, and he was mostly looking for the pair of brothers he had served with for the past two years, ever since they came to England from having served Count d’Acoz. The story made known to the English was that they were knights from The Levant who served Jax, but that wasn’t the truth. They had been sucked into William Marshal’s spy ring because Cole had recruited them. From the first, he’d realized their special talents. Men such as Addax and Essien al-Kort weren’t meant to be simply knights.

  They were meant for greatness.

  And he’d been proven right. While Cole had been entrenched in his mission for The Marshal with the Scottish royal court, Addax and Essien went right along with him. The Scots had loved the unique pair, which had only worked to their advantage. They became the darlings of the royal court, invited to every gathering, every exclusive feast. They were not only great warriors, but they could sing and entertain beautifully. The Scots were inviting and trusting with the men from the far-off and mysterious land of Kitara.

  Now, as Fountainhall fell all around them, the results of that misplaced trust were evident.

  It had been the Princes of Kitara who had made this moment possible.

  “Cole!”

  Cole heard his name, his head snapping to the right where Addax al-Kort was just emerging from a doorway with a wooden staircase that led into the bailey. Right behind him came his
brother, Essien, and between them they were dragging a Scotsman dressed in female garb, a man alternately cursing them and pleading with them.

  Cole and Julian headed in their direction.

  “Canmore,” he said with satisfaction, inspecting the man. After a moment, he looked to Addax. “Excellent work. Where did you find him?”

  Addax was an exceptionally muscular man, with features that had made many a maiden swoon. He was from a place of birth far from England, blessed with black hair and eyes the color of onyx.

  “Cowering in the kitchens,” he said, his speech accented because the language he was speaking was not his native language. “He thought he could dress as a wench and we would pass him over, but his ugly legs gave him away.”

  “I saw them first,” Essien insisted, a gloriously handsome brother a few years younger than Addax. “I’ve seen women’s legs from here to Alexandria, and nothing could convince me that those hairy, skinny limbs belonged to a woman.”

  Cole looked straight to Alpin’s legs, which were pasty, spindly, and covered with a dark matting of hair. He lifted an eyebrow. “How astute of you, Es.”

  The young knight frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

  Cole pointed to the legs. “A blind man could have seen these are not the legs of a woman,” he said sarcastically, poking at the man’s ego. But he took pity on him quickly because he’d just accomplished a difficult task. “But excellent work, both of you. The Marshal shall hear of your skill. He will be pleased.”

  Addax grinned as Essien frowned, looking between Cole and his brother, not entirely pleased that he wasn’t getting all the credit. He was the younger, more excitable brother when compared to Addax’s cool strength or Cole’s unflappable demeanor, but he considered himself just as fine a warrior. He was about to say so when he caught sight of what was going on near the gatehouse and the annoyance in his eyes faded. There was virtually no fighting that he could see, but there was a good deal of noise going on.

  Howls of pain.

  A sense of foreboding crept over him.

  “What is happening out there?” he asked. “What is… why all the screaming?”

  Cole didn’t turn around to see what he meant. He knew. “The Dark Lord is doing what he does best,” he said evenly. “I told you what would happen with this siege, Es. That has not changed. My father has been ordered to destroy this castle and that is exactly what he is doing.”

  Essien could hear that cries of agony. They all could. He was young and emotional, and when he looked at his brother to see what he thought of what was happening, Addax refused to look at him.

  “Ad?” he said, sounding concerned. “Did you understand… surely there is some reason why…”

  Addax cut him off. “Warfare makes barbarians of us all,” he muttered, glancing at Cole. “You have seen enough of it to know that. This is the moment we have worked for and, now, it has begun. We told you this would happen. Everything we have strived for has come to fruition. For complete victory, these actions are necessary.”

  Essien could see through the gatehouse, watching as four of de Velt’s men rammed a post into the rear of a soldier, ramming it all the way in so it emerged from his belly. Then the soldier was propped up on the side of the road, still alive, placed next to his comrades.

  Essien had to take a deep breath.

  Truth be told, it wasn’t the worst thing he’d ever seen, because he’d seen the Muslims with Saladin’s army in The Levant do something similar. When he’d been a boy fleeing his own country of Kitara, he’d see things like that and worse still. Even so, the method was shocking in its brutality. It was true that Cole and Addax had told him this would be the result of Jax de Velt’s scorched earth campaign, but to see it in practice gave him pause. To a sensitive soul like Horus Essien Mai al-Kort, horrific brutality was sometimes difficult for him to swallow.

  He’d seen too much of it.

  “Bastards,” Alpin snarled, spittle flying from his lips as he distracted the warriors from what was happening around them. “Ye’re all bastards. Why are ye doing this tae me?”

  He was speaking of the al-Kort brothers. Alpin knew them to be fixtures in royal circles, favorites of the nobles, so the fact that they wrested him from his hiding place was truly perplexing. He had no idea why they were there. As Essien continued to wrestle with the situation outside the gates, Cole appraised Alpin without a hint of emotion.

  “Canmore,” he said. “You know why we are here, do you not?”

  Alpin eyed Cole, shaken and bewildered. “Why do ye speak like that?” he said, referring to the fact that Cole had no Scots accent, something he’d only known from the man from the beginning of their association. “What is happening here? Ye’re the king’s protector, the man called MacEacharn!”

  “Not anymore,” Cole said flatly. “My tenure with William is finished. And I am not MacEacharn.”

  “No’ MacEacharn?”

  “Nay,” Cole said. “I am English and this is my father’s army. We’ve come for you, Alpin. Would you care to guess why?”

  Alpin genuinely had no idea. In fact, the entire situation had him baffled. Earlier that day, an army approached from the south, a fairly large army that his men identified as English and, suddenly, he found himself under siege. His men barely had time to secure the outer gatehouse when the army swarmed and siege engines were brought forth. A bombardment worthy of the Crusades took place after that, with flaming projectiles and men scaling walls. When it had become clear that the army would breach the inner ward, Alpin and a few of his men had dressed as women and hid in the kitchens. He didn’t even know what had happened to those men.

  At the moment, he was only concerned for himself.

  Something very bad was happening.

  “Sassenach?” Alpin spit out. “I dunna understand any of this. Who are ye? What have ye done?”

  Cole leaned in to him. “My name is Cole de Velt,” he said quietly. “My father is Ajax de Velt, Baron Blackadder and lord of Pelinom Castle. Surely you have heard of him.”

  A gleam of recognition came to Alpin’s eye. “De Velt?” he repeated. “Not The Dark Lord?”

  “The same.”

  The light of understanding was beginning to flame for Alpin. “God’s Teeth, MacEacharn… ye’re no’ Scots?”

  “I am not Scots.”

  “A de Velt?”

  “Aye, I am a de Velt.”

  Two years of being a spy to the royal Scots court was just revealed and things began to come clear for Alpin Canmore. He looked at Addax and Essien, understanding they were in on it, too. He began to realize just how much trouble he was in and he instinctively stepped back and away from Cole, but he was being held firmly so he had nowhere to go. Then he looked beyond Cole to the gatehouse and he could see his men being put on poles.

  Those screams were something that cut him to the bone.

  “God,” he muttered, looking at Cole with utter fear in his expression. “What do ye want from me? Why are ye doing this?”

  Cole didn’t answer him. He turned for the gatehouse and jerked his head at Addax and Essien, who followed him from the inner ward, dragging Alpin past his own men who were being impaled. His men, seeing him, screamed for help if they were able, begging Alpin to save them.

  But Alpin couldn’t even save himself.

  In the end, it was too much for him to take. He lowered his head and wept as Addax and Essien dragged him back to the de Velt encampment and tied him to a post. Alpin was certain he was going to be burned alive but, oddly enough, they left him there with Essien as his guard. No flames, no death.

  At least, not yet.

  As Alpin Canmore listened to the cries of agony from his men, Cole and Addax returned to the bedlam that was happening at Fountainhall. They found Jax standing on the fringe, watching the activity, but not actively participating. He was simply overseeing everything with the ease of a man overseeing something far simpler, like the harvest of his crops or the training of his men. I
t was all business to him and Jax held an expression that suggested he wasn’t troubled by any of it.

  He’d done this kind of thing before.

  Next to him stood a commander he’d had with him for many years. Atreus le Velle had been at Jax’s side during the entire conquest of the Welsh Marches those years ago, and he had been at Jax’s side when he conquered Pelinom Castle. He’d known Jax since childhood and had simply never left him, not even to pursue personal gain or adventure. An innate sense of loyalty kept him with Jax, a friendship that was deeper than most.

  Atreus was looking at the carnage going on with the same bland expression Jax had.

  “We have him, Papa,” Cole said as he walked up on the pair. “He’s back in camp with Essien as guard. Addax and Essien captured him quite ably.”

  Jax and Atreus turned to him. “He is unharmed?” Jax asked.

  Cole nodded. “Not a scratch,” he said. “Shall I take him straight to The Keld?”

  Jax pondered that question for a moment. He’d gone through a lot of trouble today simply to rush his captive off to another man’s castle. “Tomorrow,” he finally said. “I intend to interrogate the man myself tonight. I realize that the Alastor de Bourne is involved in this situation more than I am, but I am still part of it. We are under threat, too, and we are much closer to the Scots army should they decide to march, so I want to know what this Alpin Canmore knows. If I must protect myself, then I want to know when hell is coming before de Bourne and The Marshal have their way with him. There may be nothing left by the time they are finished.”

  “You know everything I know to this point,” Cole said, lowering his voice. “You know everything I’ve been gathering over the past two years. Unfortunately, my position next to the king only gave me partial information. There were certain things I did not know that Canmore can hopefully provide. But what we know is this – the Scots, supported by the Norse Earls of Orkney and Shetland, intend to invade England and Alpin Canmore has been sending missives to the House of de Bourne on behalf of William the Lion, as the descendants of the Kings of Northumbria, because the Scots want de Bourne to join their rebellion. They need a strong house inside of Northumberland if they are to succeed.”