Fragments of Grace (Prequel to the Dragonblade Trilogy) (49 page)

Keir was on his knees where he had been dropped,
somewhere over by the end of the banqueting table.  He was battered, bloodied
and bruised, and his left arm had limited mobility because of the arrow injury
to the top of his left shoulder. The arrow that had penetrated his back had
thankfully missed anything vital, but the physic had wrapped it up tightly to
keep the wound from bleeding. 

More than the arrow wounds, being dragged by a
spooked horse had afforded him a wide variety of bumps, cuts and bruises, and
his left ankle had been sprained as a result of the pulling, but he had
miraculously emerged without any serious injury.  Considering the speed at
which the horse had pulled, he was still amazed he hadn’t been gravely injured.
Even so, he could hardly walk and it was difficult to stand. But he was alive
and thankful for it.

Groggy, injured, he hadn’t resisted when Ingilby’s
men threw him in the vault upon reaching Ripley Castle, and he didn’t resist
still as they dragged him from the vault and up to the great hall, dumping him
rudely onto the cold stone floor.  He was fairly certain he was in for another
go-around with Ingilby until a figure in dark blue near the hearth caught his
attention. His muddled eyes didn’t fully grasp the features half-shrouded by
the shadows, but the voice that suddenly echoed through the hall brought him,
struggling, to his feet.

“Keir!” Chloë cried.

Keir nearly fell over as he tried stand, but his
battered body and bad ankle made that nearly impossible. Moreover, Ingilby’s
men had hold of him, preventing him from rushing to Chloë’s side.  His heart
was in his throat as he gazed at her, struggling to see her clearly in the
dimness.

“Chloë?” he said it as if he could hardly believe
it. Surely his mind was playing tricks on him! “Sweetheart… my God, what are
you doing here? Are you well?”

Chloë broke down in sobs, the dirk still at her
chest.  She came away from the wall, moving toward the table, but staying out
of range of the men who could still grab her and take the dirk away from her. 
As she came into the weak light, Keir could see the blade against her chest and
the blood streaming from it.  He nearly came apart.

“Sweet Jesus,” he groaned. “Chloë, what happened?
What…?”

“You should thank her, St. Hèver, truly,” Ingilby
cut him off. “She came here to offer herself in exchange for your freedom. I
have accepted her offer.”

Keir’s pale features went absolutely ashen as he
gazed at his wife. His mind wasn’t as sharp as it usually was but he
nonetheless understood well the implications. Ingilby would have done less
damage had he taken a blade and cut off his arms and legs. It would have hurt
less than the knowledge, the horrific knowledge, of Chloë’s offer.

“Nay,” he breathed, his eyes beginning to fill with
tears. “Chloë, you cannot do this. Please, sweetheart, do you hear me?
You
will not do this
.”

Ingilby watched Chloë fall against the side of the
table, weeping so heavily that she lost her balance.  But the blade remained
fixed on her chest, digging in to her white flesh. 

“Your wife tells me that she will kill herself right
before my eyes if I do not let you go,” he told Keir, sounding quite detached.
“She is very determined. I fear she means it.”

Keir just stared at Chloë, feeling sobs of terror
bubbling up in his throat. It was a struggle to fight them off, but he couldn’t
fight off the tears. He was shattered.

“Oh…Chloë,” he whispered, his lower lip trembling. “No,
sweetheart, please no. All will be well.  You will not do this. I forbid it.”

Chloë was half-on, half-off the table, bracing
herself with her left hand so she wouldn’t collapse completely. She wanted so
badly to run to Keir but she was afraid the soldiers would capture her and take
away the knife. Then she would be powerless.
She had to free him!

“You would do it for me,” she wept. “If I were
captive, you would sacrifice yourself for me without a second thought. Because
I love you, I cannot think of myself. I can only think of you. If my life can
buy your freedom, then I will do it willingly.”

Keir blinked and fat tears splattered on to his
cheeks.  “Chloë, please,” he whispered. “Take the dirk away from your chest,
sweetheart. I cannot stomach what I am seeing.”

Chloë shook her head, so hard that her hair whipped
about her face and pulled through the blood streaming down her chest, leaving
streaks across her neck.   She looked at Ingilby, still sitting quite calmly at
the table.

“Let him go now,” she demanded, her lips trembling.
“I have made my offer and you have accepted. There is no reason to keep him
here any longer.”

Ingilby had to agree; the longer St. Hèver and Chloë
looked at each other, the more the intensity of their emotions resonated. 
Ingilby wasn’t particularly comfortable with that. The sooner he removed St.
Hèver, the sooner he could begin his quest to finally conquer Chloë.  Casually,
he glanced over at the soldiers holding St. Hèver and snapped his fingers.

“Release him.”

The soldiers hauled Keir to his feet, who suddenly
began fighting back.  Injured, weak, he still took out three men before several
others rushed in and fought to subdue him.  Chloë, seeing what was happening,
began screaming.

“Keir,
no
!” she cried. “Stop fighting; please
stop fighting!”

Keir pretended not to hear her.  He had his big
fists balled, pummeling those who were attempting to subdue him.  The sounds of
broadswords being unsheathed filled the air and Chloë screamed loudly.

“Kill him and I will kill myself right now!” she
shrieked.  “I will do it, I swear!”

With that, she took the dirk and dragged it across
one wrist, and bright red blood began to spill.  Horrified, Ingilby rushed over
to Keir, shoving his men aside who were preparing to gut the man.

“Enough!” he roared. “Put your weapons away. Can you
not see that she means it?”

Keir stopped fighting when he heard the shout. 
Turning in Chloë’s direction, all he could see was her blood spilling on the
floor. 

“My God,” he whimpered. “Chloë….”

“Remove him,” Ingilby barked. “Dump him outside of
the gate. Get him out of my sight and, for Pity’s Sake, get him out of her
sight. 
Get him out!”

The last sight Keir had of Chloë was of her sinking
to the floor as blood gushed from her left wrist.  He began yelling for her,
struggling viciously against the men who were dragging him out of the hall, but
he was simply overpowered.  The pulled him out of the keep and dragged him all the
way to the gatehouse, where they threw him out on the road beyond the
portcullis.

Keir didn’t remember much of being released from
Ripley, only that it had been the most painful thing he had ever experienced in
his life. Once, he had come across the burning bodies of his wife and daughter.
He thought that had been the worst moment of his life.

It wasn’t.

CHAPTER THIRTY

The siege of Ripley Castle was truly something to
behold.

After advance Aysgarth scouts found a beaten and
somewhat hysterical Keir outside of the castle walls trying to find a way to
get back in, Kurtis and Michael had listened to a harrowing story about Chloë
and her sacrifice for Keir’s freedom. 

It had been an ugly scene. Keir had initially raged
at his brother for not preventing Chloë from doing such a thing, but he
realized, when his emotions began to settle, that it wasn’t Kurtis’s failure.
It was no one’s fault. Chloë was always trying to do what she felt best for
Keir, whether or not it was a good idea, and Keir could only love her more because
of her foolishly noble intentions. He had visions of her bleeding to death in
front of him and it took a solid half-hour before Kurtis and Michael could calm
the man to the point where he wasn’t roaring with rage.

It brought both Kurtis and Michael back to that
horrible time when Keir had lost Madeleine and Frances, the madman who was
incoherent and shattered. The man before them was dazed, injured and weak, but
all he could speak of was regaining his wife.  They knew very well that he
meant it; the first time he’d lost those dearest to him, he could do nothing
about it. This time, he could.  He was hell-bent on retrieving Chloë or die
trying, and with that in mind, Kurtis sent two men back to Aysgarth for Keir’s
armor and weapons. If the man was to have a fighting chance, he needed to be
prepared.

With Keir having calmed sufficiently to the point of
passing out because his body simply gave out, Kurtis and Michael unleashed Armaggedon
on Ripley Castle, using two big mangonels they had brought from Aysgarth to
launch all manner of flaming projectile over the big walls.

Michael, who had served Aysgarth for many years,
followed Keir’s usual mode when laying siege to a fortified structure by
sending ignited phospates over the walls which, upon landing, would explode
fiery balls in all directions. That was the first wave.  The second wave was
big, earthenware pots of a smelly, flammable oil that they would collect in big
quantities near coal deposits, and it was this oil that they would ignite and
launch over the walls.  It was worse than the phosphates; the oil would spray
and ignite anything in its path, man and beast included.

The gate of Ripley was the focus of great battering
rams they had cut from a nearby forest, and Kurtis set dozens of men on this
task as archers rained down upon them. Coverdale had shields for the men on the
battering rams, however, great long things smelted from flexible metal that was
lightweight enough that the men could position it above them and not be
crushed.

Ripley’s gate, unfortunately, wasn’t up to the task
of such vigorous tactics and two hours into the siege, the gate was beginning
to show signs of weakness. Recognizing this, Kurtis had Michael remain in
command of bombarding the walls as he focused personally on the gate.  He was
positive it was the weak link and he set more men to ramming it in an attempt
to crumble it completely.

As darkness approached and great torches were lit
all around to provide light for Aysgarth’s army, Coverdale, who had spent
nearly all of the battle to the rear of the army with his wife and entourage,
took it upon himself to personally assess the bombardment.  Approaching the
gate where Kurtis and about a hundred men were methodically cracking away at
the wood and iron, the man took an arrow to the neck. 

Falling off his horse, he slowly bled out as Kurtis
and a few other soldiers worked furiously to stop the copious amounts of blood. 
In the end, Baron Coverdale, Lord Byron de Tiegh, died with his sightless eyes wide
open to the heavens and not in his bed as he had often hoped. Kurtis remained
with the man’s body for a few moments, lingering when everyone else returned to
the siege, gazing with sorrow at the dead man and praying that this wouldn’t be
the first costly death in a siege that had the potential to see many.

***

Chloë began to gradually come aware of the distant
sounds of men yelling. It was faint, like the buzz of a fly, soft but
unmistakable and, if she thought about it, annoying.  Stirring slightly, she
sneezed and lifted her hand to itch her nose, half-asleep, until she ended up
hitting herself in the face with the ungainly bandage on her left forearm.
Startled by the linen wrapping, she peered at it in confusion. More than that,
she looked around a chamber that she did not recognize. Dark stone walls, an
expensive rug, and a very nice bed.  It wasn’t hers. She could smell cold and
rot and wisps of smoke. Then, it all started coming back to her.

She was at Ripley Castle. Feeling a wave of fear
wash over her, she tried to sit up but her back was paining her greatly so she
just lay there, trying to get a handle on her anxiety, wondering where Ingilby
was. She couldn’t imagine he’d be very far from her.  But then her thoughts
turned to Keir and her last vision of him as Ingilby’s men dragged him from the
great hall.  There had been a good deal of screaming going on, mostly from her,
but through it all she could see Keir’s expression as he faded from her sight.
It had been such a terrified expression.  Tears filled her eyes and rolled down
her temples as she gazed at the ceiling and thought of Keir.

Trying to rise a second time, she managed to get on
her feet. Her back was paining her greatly, no doubt from the strenuous events
from the past couple of days, but it was managable. More than that, she felt
extremely weak and her left arm throbbed terribly. It was an effort to move
about. She noticed that she still had her boots on and her heavy surcoat; the
only thing that seemed to be missing was her cloak. She was thankful that
Ingilby hadn’t made some attempt to undress her while she was unconscious.
Stiffly, she moved to the only window in the room and was immediately faced
with bedlam.

The long lancet window afforded her a partial view
of the bailey, the walls, and the countryside beyond, and she could see armies
on both sides of the wall. There were several fires in the bailey, mostly
structure fires, and on the opposite side of the wall she could see an enormous
army and parts of a great siege engine as they engaged the thing, slinging
burning projectiles over the wall. As she watched, shocked, she thought they
might have even slung a body of some kind, in flames, over the wall. She
thought it might have been a horse.