Dragonblade Trilogy - 02 - Island of Glass (30 page)

“’Tis them,” she hissed. “I must
hide!”

“No, wait,” Miach held her fast. 
He gave Lugh a shove on the shoulder. “Go and make a distraction.”

Rapidly, quietly, the three of
them hustled down the make shift ladder to the ground floor of the barn. The
goats, the cow, and the old horse looked at them curiously. Aubrielle kept an
eye on the tree line beyond while Miach and Lugh collaborated. Finally, Lugh
took Aubrielle’s soiled cloak and threw it over his head. Taking the biggest
goat out of the herd, he leapt upon its back and the beast bolted from the barn
in terror. The last Aubrielle saw, Lugh was racing towards the tree line atop
the back of a rabid goat. 

“Come on,” Miach pulled her in
the opposite direction.

Keeping low, they ducked from the
barn and made a dash towards a cluster of homes in the distance.  Much would
depend upon how long Lugh would be able to stay atop the beast and lead de Gaul
and his men astray. Aubrielle ran like the wind, not daring to look back. Miach
was fast on his stubby legs and she followed his rabbit-like dashes through
bushes and over streams.  It occurred to her at some point that he didn’t look
like any knight she had ever seen, especially a knight of Munsalvaesche, but
she pushed the subject aside. She had to trust that he was leading her to
safety and prayed she wasn’t being naïve. She had no choice but to have faith.

There were farmers in their
fields as the two of them raced through. Aubrielle’s slippers were rags on her
feet and she felt every rock. Her gown, in tatters, was gathered up around her
knees.  She ran until her lungs felt like they were about to burst from her
chest.  She could see Bristol in the distance like a beacon and she would not
let it out of her sight.

Something whizzed past her head,
clipping her ear. It was sharp and she winced, her hand flying up to her head.
It came away sticky with blood. She could hear shouting and she almost
collapsed in grief; she knew, without looking, that de Gaul and his men had
somehow caught up to her.

Miach looked over her shoulder,
noting she had slowed down. There was blood on her left ear, streaking down her
face. He slowed down and took her by the hand, urging her on.  Several yards
behind them were men on horseback with crossbows, dark men in old armor.

“Run, my lady,” Miach urged her.
“Come on!”

Aubrielle was holding her injured
ear. She was trying to run, trying to hold her gown so she wouldn’t trip on it,
sobs coming to her lips as she realized it was futile. She had never been a
quitter and the concept was unknown to her, but she knew she had been caught.
Discouragement set in. She feared what would happen to Miach.

“Another step and I kill you
both!”

De Gaul’s voice boomed over the
field. Aubrielle and Miach came to a halt, turning to face the group behind them.
The Order of the Black Angel was in pursuit to varying degrees, but Aubrielle
saw no sign of Lugh. De Gaul reined his black, bloodied charger forward.

“A fair try, my lady, but your
attempt was in vain,” he smiled thinly. “Who is your companion?”

Miach held Aubrielle’s hand
tightly. “A stranger who sought to help, my lord.”

De Gaul’s dark eyes blazed at
him. “That, little man, will be your undoing.”

Without hesitation, he lifted the
crossbow. Aubrielle cried out. “No!” she put herself between Miach and de Gaul.
“He was only doing as I asked. You will not harm him.”

De Gaul did not have a clean shot
at him. Sensing this, the wicked knights flanking him raised their crossbows.
There was no way for Aubrielle to protect the little man from all sides. She
backed up, trying to use her slight form to shield him.  She was terrified that
they had come to a dead end.

She heard the sound of an arrow
being launched, followed by a painful grunt. Shocked, Aubrielle watched as two
of de Gaul’s men took arrows to the chest and toppled off their steeds.
Suddenly, the Order of the Black Angel was in chaos as arrows flew at them from
all directions. De Gaul, momentarily distracted from Aubrielle, took two arrows
to the chest in harsh succession and within seconds was a casualty on the
ground.

Aubrielle and Miach fell to the
earth so they would not become targets. To the northeast, riding hard from a
cluster of dense trees, were a group of heavily armed men.  Straining to get a
look at them, Aubrielle saw the green and scarlet of Wrexham come into view. 
It was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen.

The Order was scattering, though
a few drew their weapons to fight. Mostly, they ran. Aubrielle leapt to her
feet and began running like mad for the men she recognized. She heard Everett
before she saw him. He very nearly ran her over in his excitement. Dismounting
his charger, he reached out just in time to catch her as she fell into his
arms.

“Aubrielle,” he held her so that
she would not fall. “Are you hurt?”

“I am well.” Suddenly realizing
she was safe, she burst into sobs. “’Tis a miracle you found me when you did.
They were about… about to…”

Her weeping overcame her and she
was unable to continue. Everett soothed her. “The priest you sent to Kirk
helped us find your path.”

“Grendel found you?”

“He did. Thank God, he did. He
told us of the men who abducted you. We ran as hard and fast as we could until
we came across their encampment from last night. After that, we simply followed
their trail.”

 It was a sweet, simple miracle.
There could be no other explanation and Aubrielle’s heart rejoiced. But an even
greater concern came to mind.

“Oh, Everett,” she gasped. “I saw
Lucius shoot Kenneth. Did he… is he…?”

“He lives, my lady.  On death’s
door, his concern is only for you.”

It was too much. Aubrielle’s
emotions got the better of her and she collapsed completely in Everett’s young,
strong arms. He picked her up, a weeping, sobbing mess, and held her while she
cried. He didn’t know what else to do. Having come upon her when they did, he
was fairly shaken himself.

Reid came thundering up, flipping
up his visor when he saw that Everett had the prize. “Is she well?” he shouted.

“Well enough,” Everett replied.
“The lady needs food and a warm fire.”

Reid peered at Aubrielle, dirty
and tired in Everett’s arms. “Praise to God,” he muttered, crossing himself. “I
truly had no idea what we would find.”

Aubrielle’s head suddenly came
up, her pale cheeks streaked with tears. “Miach,” she said.

“My lady?” Everett queried.

“The little man that was with
me,” her gaze moved over the field. “Where is he?”

The knights looked out to the
field as well.  Except for Wrexham men-at-arms checking the dead and injured,
including de Gaul, there was no one else.

“I do not see anyone, my lady,”
Reid said.

Aubrielle pushed herself out of
Everett’s grasp, taking a few steps on weary legs in the direction of the
field. Her eyes searched and searched but she, too, saw no one other than dead
or dying members of the Order and Wrexham men. 

“Where did he go?” she turned to
the knights. “Surely you saw him with me. A little man, no taller than a
child.”

“I must say that my focus was
only on you, my lady,” Everett said. “If there was a little man with you, I did
not notice him.”

Aubrielle knew she had not
hallucinated. She grew increasingly concerned. “There wasn’t merely one, but
two. Miach and Lugh. They tried to save my life.”

The knights thought her ordeal
was affecting her mind, but they did not want to upset her. “Perhaps they went
back where they came from,” Reid said gently. “Arrows and knights can frighten
those not accustomed to such a sight.”

Aubrielle almost told them that
the little men were knights themselves, but she thought better of it. Miach has
said they had learned not to attract attention to themselves.  If they knew
her, as they said they did, then they had to know how grateful she was for
their help.  She did not want to seem careless and not search for them to make
sure they were safe, but she was feeling particularly selfish. Thoughts of
Kenneth were looming heavily on her.

“Take me back to Kirk,” she
murmured. “I must see Kenneth.”

For all of his plotting and
scheming, de Gaul was left lying in a field, far from Glastonbury and far from
the secrets of the Grail.

CHAPTER
TWELVE

Kenneth stood by the stream,
watching the water skip over the rocks in its progression to the sea.  His ice
blue eyes were focused on the water, the faint strains of dawn’s light
glimmering off the surface. With every bubble, he could hear Aubrielle’s
voice.  Gazing up at the sunrise in all its glory, it was incomparable to her
beauty.  His heart hurt so badly for her that it was affecting every corner of
his being. With every day that passed, his hope that she would be found alive
weakened.

The column of men was ready and
waiting. They had traveled for almost four days solid, stopping only twice when
Kenneth decided that the horses deserved to rest even if the men were
disinclined to do so.  Bradley had chosen only the most seasoned warriors to
accompany Kenneth, men who were hard to the bone. It worked well in that
respect, since Kenneth had no patience and even the slightest complaint or
issue was likely to draw blood.  Furthermore, since Kenneth’s strength wasn’t
nearly what it should be, Bradley insisted on accompanying him as well.  Kirk
was locked down with a senior sergeant in charge, and there were no worries
afoot.

“Ken,” Bradley’s quiet voice
entered his thoughts. “The men are ready when you are.”

Kenneth shifted on his big legs,
his armor creaking as he did so.  His reflections lasted a split second longer
before he slapped his helm upon his head, the three-point face plate hanging
open. Stiffly, for the pain in his back was still great, he moved for the
waiting column.

“We should have seen Everett and
Reid by now,” he said. “We are just south of Gloucester. We should have crossed
paths.”

Bradley knew he was despairing.
He’d seen it for five days now. “Perhaps they’ve made better time than we
suspected. Though we’ve ridden ridiculously hard for days, I have seen Everett
keep up a punishing pace when called for. He knows how important it is to find
Lady Aubrielle. You must have faith.”

Kenneth didn’t reply. He made his
way to his charger, at the head of a column of Wrexham soldiers. Argus and
Grendel were also there, waiting for him. Argus hadn’t left his side since he’d
been wounded, and still, even with the heavy riding, he maintained his post. On
occasion it had been necessary to give Kenneth something for his pain.  The
wounds were healing well enough, but slowly. Kenneth mounted his muzzled
charger and spurred the animal onward. The company of fifty heavily armed
soldiers followed.

They rode south for about ten
miles, passing a few farmers and traveling merchants as they rode. Kenneth had
stopped noticing long ago the fearful expressions of those they passed; he was
used to it. He expected it. On the outskirts of the berg of Stonehouse was a
large tavern called the Hog Snout and Rolling Gut Inn. Kenneth only paid heed
to it because of the name. It seemed to him that a tavern shouldn’t have ‘gut’
in the title. But he also noticed, as they drew closer, several familiar horses
in the tavern’s corral.  His body tensed.

“What is it?” Bradley noticed his
expression.

Kenneth reined his charger
towards the two-story structure. “Wrexham horses.”

Bradley’s head snapped in the
direction of the livery, noting the tethered horses. Several of them had the
tale-tell nick on the neck, just above where the breast plate would rest, and
he recognized two of the chargers without a doubt. 

“Everett and Reid,” he confirmed.
“We have found them.”

Kenneth held off half of the
troop, ordering the other half to follow him to the tavern. The mood was tense,
cautious, and his heart was thumping loudly in his chest by the time he reached
the inn. He bailed from his charger, unsheathing his weapon before his feet hit
the ground. 

“Sir Kenneth!” Argus called after
him. “Mind your wounds, man. They cannot take a pounding yet. Let Bradley take
the lead.”

Kenneth ignored him and the
little physic leapt from his pony, gathering his own weapon. He thought it a
rather strange way to protect his patient, but nothing was usual these days.

“Come along, brother,” he said to
Grendel. “We must have your practiced eye.”

Grendel didn’t want to climb down.
Argus went over and pulled him off the horse. “I shall be no good in there,”
Grendel insisted. “’Tis best you leave me out here; I shall only be in the
way.”

Argus threw a weapon at his feet.
“You would rather come in with us than have Sir Kenneth come out looking for
you.”