Dragonblade Trilogy - 02 - Island of Glass (25 page)

“For what?”

“For falling right into my lap.
You are a stupid, stupid girl.”

She ran cold, tears of anguish in
her eyes. Having no reply, she turned to look at Kenneth, lying bloody and
lifeless on the ground. She couldn’t face Lucius any longer; she fell to the ground
beside Kenneth, trying to shield him with her body.

“Leave him alone,” she hissed
through her tears. “Leave us both alone and be gone.”

Kenneth could feel her soft
warmth against him. His fingers grasped at her clothing. “Aubrielle,” he
murmured. “Get behind me, sweetheart. Let me.…”

He was going to say ‘protect
you’. Through his haze, he realized that was foolish. He was incapacitated and
they were both at the mercy of Lucius. He felt so completely helpless, so
ashamed he had ended up this way.  Aubrielle stroked his neck, his head; he
could feel her soft kisses on his cheek and fingers.

“Do not die,” she begged, tears
dripping on his hand. “Please, Kenneth, be strong. Be strong for me. I love you
so.”

Lucius could only take so much.
There was too much awry in his mind for him to process rational thought. At the
moment, he truly blamed Aubrielle for Kenneth’s injury, for his state as a
fugitive and murderer. There were shadows lingering in the bushes and he turned
to them.

“Take her,” he said simply.

The bramble suddenly exploded.
Men with weapons popped out from all sides.  Aubrielle gasped with fright and
grabbed the nearest weapon she could get her hands on. An old tree branch was a
poor substitute for a sword, but she fought valiantly until the wood broke and
one of the men grabbed her. Still, she continued to fight, to protect Kenneth,
biting, kicking and screaming until they managed to get a hold of her and haul
her away.

Kenneth, nearly unconscious, knew
what was happening. He knew it, and felt it, with every inch of his wounded
body.  It only made matters worse that Lucius was behind it all.
Take her.
Once, Lucius had said those same words to him where it pertained to Aubrielle.
Now the words had become lethal and revolting.  He struggled to push himself up
to fight, but his injuries were too great and his blood loss too much. It was
impossible to do anything other than roll on to his right side, just in time to
see four men pull Aubrielle, kicking and biting, into the trees.

If Kenneth had ever been close to
crying in his life, now would have been the time. His vision was dimming and
death beckoned, but still, all he could think of was saving her. He could hear
her calling his name, screaming for him.  He began to crawl towards the trees
in a pathetic attempt to follow. He caught a glimpse of boots, but not much
else. He knew that Lucius was going to kill him. It didn’t matter how the man
got out of the vault; the fact remained that he had, and he was going above and
beyond what Kenneth had ever thought him capable of. He felt like an idiot for
not having been more astute to the depths of the man’s evil and slighted mind.

But Kenneth would not go down
without a fight. And then he would continue after Aubrielle. Foolish as it was,
he would not accept defeat, especially at the hands of Lucius le Cor.  Not even
Death could force that upon him.

As he struggled to push himself
up into a sitting position to face an undoubtedly deadly battle, his vision
dimmed completely and the world went abruptly silent.

The fight was over before it
began.

CHAPTER
TEN

It had taken all four of them to
tie her up and put a sack over her head. Still, Aubrielle fought until she
exhausted and bloodied herself. Her lip was torn where she had butted herself
against someone’s skull. She had bruises in places that didn’t normally have
bruises, but the biggest wound she had sustained so far was the gaping hole in
her heart. Somewhere in the fighting and biting, she realized she had left
Kenneth on the floor of the forest and that le Cor would surely finish him off.
Then her struggles consisted of tears and hysteria in addition to the rest. She
fought against them into the night, until her strength finally gave out and she
could struggle no more.

Fatigue claimed her. So did despair.
With Kenneth dead, she could not imagine what was left to live for.  With the
sack over her head and darkness surrounding her, she fell into a deep sleep,
not caring what happened to her and praying she would never awaken.

But her prayers were not answered.
She awoke to the sack being ripped savagely off her head. It was a startling
movement, one that set her on edge in an instant. It was past dawn and they
were in a clearing on the edge of a forest. Aubrielle didn’t recognize any of
it. The bright and beautiful day mocked her sorrow as a man dressed in black
stood before her, inspecting her as one would inspect a brood mare. It was an
unsettling feeling. The man was dark from the top of his soiled hair to the
bottom of his worn boots and there were several other ragged men around her,
all staring at her with malevolent eyes and pasty faces. She eyed each of them
in turn, defiantly, daring them to harm her. At the moment, she had no plans of
attempted escape. Without Kenneth to run to, there was no point. Life, at the
moment, had no point.

There was movement next to her
and when she turned to look, her defiance turned to shock.  It was a face she
knew very well.

“Brother Grendel?”

Grendel smiled weakly at her. He
looked sick and thin, but it was still the same Brother Grendel she had known.
“Good morn, Aubrielle.”

She was thoroughly confused now.
“What on earth are you doing here? What is happening?”

The brother attempted to comfort
her but the man in black stopped him. “I will speak with the lady,” he snapped.
Grendel shut his mouth and the man focused on Aubrielle. “You are the Lady Aubrielle
Grace di Witney, then.”

She cast him a baleful glare.
“What does that matter to you?”

“A great deal. In fact,” he
stroked his chin thoughtfully, “your mother told me that we would find you at
Kirk just before we slit her throat and burned her body to cinder. I am glad to
see that she did not lie to us.”

If he was expecting a reaction,
he was disappointed. Aubrielle already knew the fate of her mother and would
not give him the satisfaction. With a supreme demonstration in control, she
kept her expression from wavering.

“So you have found me,” she said
through clenched teeth. “Who are you? What is it you want of me?”

“Ah, she comes to the point and I
like that,” de Gaul said. His face quickly changed expression as his black eyes
smoldered with intensity. “Since we know who you are, it is only proper that
you know who we are. And since you are my prisoner, you cannot escape to expose
us. My name is de Gaul. My men and I are known as
A Ordem do Anjo Preto
.
We are the Order of the Black Angel and you, my lady, have something we want.”

“I have never heard of your
order.”

“I am not surprised. Have you
heard of the Templars?”

“Aye. But they were disbanded
many years ago.”

“We are their new order.”

Her brow furrowed as she looked
around. “But Templars were a helping order. As I recall, they took a vow of
poverty but the order had grown so rich and powerful that King Phillip
destroyed the order about twenty years ago.”

“All is correct, as you say. The
Templars had grown exceptionally powerful and the king of France, greedy. He
only wanted what we had. There is no other excuse.” De Gaul took a step towards
her and crouched on the ground, eye-level with her. “My men and I have sworn
vengeance on France.  The king took everything we had and our resources are
limited. We cannot raise an army to exact our revenge. The only thing that can
help us is God himself, and in a vision, I was shown the way.”

It was a fantastic story and he
made it sound quite reasonable. But the flicker in the depths of de Gaul’s eyes
spoke only of insanity. “What way?” she was afraid to ask.

De Gaul smiled, a gesture that
sent chills up her spine. “The Scroll of Munsalvaesche. I am told you know
everything about it.”

“What if I do? What use is it to
you?”

“A great deal, my lady. The
scroll gives the locale of the Grail. Whatever army holds this holy relic in
its possession will be most powerful on earth. It will lay waste to whoever
doubts or opposes it, especially heretics as King Phillip.”

He wanted the Grail to seek his
vengeance for what King Phillip had done to the Templars. Suddenly, it all
became clear. All of the confusion, fear and death had been for a purpose. They
wanted what she had also sought. She could see it, so clearly, without him
having to further explain himself.

She rapidly considered her
options. Clearly, she did not want to give up the scroll or tell them of its
contents. She further suspected her life was not about to end if she did not tell
him what he wanted to know. They needed her. She looked at Brother Grendel,
surmising that, in their quest to locate the scroll, he had become an unwilling
pawn. They had somehow traced it to St. Wenburgh and he had become involved. 
The poor man.

“What makes you think I do?”

“Your teacher has said you were
fascinated by it and transcribed the entire scroll. He further says that you
stole it from St. Wenburgh. If he has lied, then I will kill him right before
your eyes.”

She had no doubt they would kill
him. They had no further use for him. One man, a thin figure in ragged mail,
pulled out an enormous knife and made for the brother. Grendel gasped like a
woman, putting up his hands to protect himself. 

“Kill him and I shall tell you
nothing,” Aubrielle said quickly. “Spare him, let him leave in peace, and I
shall tell you all that I know.”

De Gaul stared at her a moment. A
thin smile spread over his lips. “Anything is possible, my lady.”

Aubrielle had a genuine fear for
Brother Grendel.  These men had killed her mother and had been in collusion
with Lucius. She knew they were desperate.

“Let him go now,” she said. “If I
am what you truly seek, then let him go now, unharmed.”

De Gaul made a show out of
pretending to weigh his options.  “What assurances to I have that you will tell
us all I we want to know?”

“My word as a lady. ‘Tis all I
can give you.”

“Tell me now, all that you know,
and I will judge whether or not that warrants the priest’s freedom.”

“Let him go, unharmed, or I will
not tell you a word. Kill him, and I will not speak. Harm me, and you will
never know. I am not afraid of you and I am not afraid of death. Do as I say.
Release him.”

De Gaul did not like to be
ordered about by a woman; that much was evident. But he knew, simply by her
manner and speech that she meant what she said. He had no doubt. Without taking
his eyes off her, he spoke to his men.

“Release the brother. He will
receive no horse, no provisions, no protection and no weapons. The terms are to
release him unharmed and nothing more. This I can do. If there truly is a God,
then perhaps the Almighty will provide the rest.”

One of the men untied Grendel’s
hands. Startled, he rose on unsteady legs and they pushed him away from Aubrielle.
Her last vision of the priest was the man staggering into the trees. If the
elements didn’t get him, the thieves and bandits would. She was pleased for his
freedom, fearful for his life.  De Gaul grasped her firmly by the chin and
forced her to look at him.

“Now,” he said with the slightest
smirk. “You will tell me; what does the Scroll of Munsalvaesche tell us about
the location of the Grail?”

***

It was misty and warm, faint
streams of light licking at his face. He could hear a soft droning in the
background and gradually became aware of the voices around him.  They seemed to
fade and then grow strong again. And along with the sounds came a dull,
throbbing pain that seemed to envelope his entire body. The brighter the light
became and the louder the voices, the greater the ache.  He felt like he was
being born again, thrust out of the dark, warm canal and into the harsh world
beyond.

“Look,” he heard Everett’s
excited voice. “See here; he is moving.”

Kenneth wasn’t moving, exactly.
But he did open an eye. It hurt to even do that, so he closed it again.

The startled physic scrutinized
the movement, thinking that perhaps it was an unconscious reflex. But it looked
real enough to his trained eye. Considering the wounds the man had sustained
and the amount of time he had lain in the woods until he was found, it was a
miracle in itself that he had survived.

“Sir Kenneth?” Argus lifted a
closed eyelid again, inspecting the pupil. “Can you hear me?”

Kenneth’s dry, cracked lips moved
slightly.  His tongue moved across them, with great effort, to moisten the
flesh. “Aubrielle,” he rasped.