Heart of Darkness (14 page)

She was hard pressed not to continue her walk
along the halls. Of the corridors and rooms she had seen, this
interested her the most. Isabeau had always loved art and had
appreciated her parents' collection. When her governess had wished
to test her upon a recent subject, she would always head to the
gallery--a long corridor such as this, but with far more light--and
study there in the peace and tranquility.

Those had been halcyon days; days she wished
for with all of her being. But it was not to be.

As her thoughts had turned maudlin, she was
relieved to see a window at the very bottom of the walkway. She
rushed towards it and blinkered her eyes from a rather beautiful
bronze statuette that almost called out for her perusal. Once
there, Isabeau immediately attempted to open it and sighed gustily
in relief as it slid open. Roughly, admittedly, but at least she'd
managed to open the damnable thing!

Sticking her head out, she peered down into
the darkness and wished for the magic to summon those balls of
light. It did not appear to be too far down, but then, seeing as it
was difficult to see a damned thing at all, her judgment was hardly
sound!

Realizing that this was her one chance to
escape and that she had no choice but to take it, she climbed out
of the window and thanked the Lord that she was used to climbing
trees and had climbed them often throughout her exile, either for
shade from the sun or to hide from stragglers in the woods.

Her arms were, therefore, used to handling
her weight, but as she hung from the windowsill, Isabeau soon felt
the strain in her shoulders. Swiftly, she sought a foothold and
found one. With relief, she took it and let the fingers of one hand
scramble against the stone walls. They would be bleeding by the
time she reached the ground, but that mattered naught.

The first three 'steps' were fine, but on the
fourth, she cried out as her foot slipped and she only just managed
to catch herself. The strain on her arm became a nasty ache and
Isabeau could feel the slow slide of blood down her skin where she
must have grazed herself during the slight tumble.

That could only mean that she'd actually
ripped the heavy velvet dress.

She felt inordinately guilty for mistreating
what could only be one of Wolfe's mother's robes, but Isabeau
reassured herself that she hadn't done it on purpose. There had
been no malice behind the action.

By the next stone flag, her arms had started
to ache and her nails were tearing against the coarse, rough walls.
By the time her feet scrambled for purchase and her fingers
attempted and failed to cling to the walls, she'd accepted that she
would fall.

What she hadn't realized, was how high up she
had been.

Air whistled past her ears and her stomach
lurched sickeningly. The journey to the ground seemed to last
forever and she was aware of each flailing movement as she tried to
balance herself and to no avail.

She felt both like a leaden weight and as
light as a feather. The difference was incredible and while she did
not know what awaited her, death or grave injury...the sensation of
riding the air was rather magnificent. Even in her predicament, she
could feel that.

The jolt of the landing powered through her
and instantly, any pleasure she had experienced disappeared. All
she knew now was pain.

For the most part, she felt more winded than
anything else, as though her lungs had been forced through her rib
cage from the momentum of the fall. Coughs wracked her small frame
and when slimy phlegm crawled up her throat, she knew that it would
be laden with blood. Isabeau had injured something internally as
well as externally.

She felt wet and knew that it was blood. Her
arms and legs had somehow fallen beneath her and were damaged, as
she quickly noted the injuries she'd attained, she also realized
that her mind was wavering. Swiftly and praying to God that she had
the wherewithal for the healing to take hold, she centered herself
and let the ring cure her aches.

Having never been so grievously injured, the
healing process seemed to take a very long time. That it was night,
when her powers were strongest through the day, did not help.
Isabeau could only hope that her flailing powers could sustain and
save her life.

The heat, when it came, was almost
unbearable. She truly understood the term hotter than hell now. It
was more than a sensation of feeling fevered--it was like being
possessed by a ball of fire. It shuddered through her veins and
made her gasp and gulp for air as it traversed her system and
sought out all injuries.

She was grateful and a part of her knew that
without the ring, she would most definitely have died, but the pain
that came with the healing was almost as hideous as that splatting
sensation had been, when she'd landed.

A shudder wracked through her as she recalled
the hideous moment, when her body had connected with the ground.
She had felt like a rag doll, her limbs spread and loose as the
bones disconnected from their sockets. The nausea that had powered
through her and burned a hole in her belly as recognition of pain
centered in her brain.

A quivering breath rushed through her as the
heat started to cool and at first, she thought that it meant she
was healed. But it didn't. The heat returned swiftly and without
warning and even fiercer than before. So strong was it, it lifted
her back from the floor and she arched as pain and the healing heat
coursed through her and left her gasping.

Suddenly, a cooling sensation rushed after it
and burst through her veins afterwards. Writhing on the floor,
Isabeau fought to regain her breathe and lay stunned on the ground,
when finally she managed to inhale enough oxygen to stop
panting.

She would have stayed there for a lot longer,
had she not heard the sounds. Perhaps someone had heard her fall or
her coughs, or they just believed that somehow, she had managed to
exit the castle, but hear them she did and she knew that she had to
move.

Although she was no longer injured, the depth
of the ailments she'd had, made her walk stiffly at first. Even
without trying, Isabeau knew that she would not be able to run and
if she could, it would only be for a very, very short while.

Looking behind her, she saw the dim lights in
the lead glass windows and tried to hasten her stride, but it was
too difficult. The more she moved, the more she realized how close
she had been to death.

Without the ring, she truly would have
died.

The thought stunned her and made her realize
why her mama had handed her the ring.

To ensure Isabeau's safety.

Anything of power could be corrupted. Only
someone pure of heart would yield it and not try to cause others
harm. She had always misunderstood the ring and her power. Had
always believed that the ring belonged to her family and could only
channel the power of her mother's matriarchal line. Which ended
with her, a Hart.

But she'd been wrong. She'd been wrong
on so many levels, she felt a fool. Her
stay
with Wolfe had taught her that at least. She
was not the last remaining person to yield these kinds of talents,
nor was she the only person able to use the ring as a
conduit.

Isabeau was not sure how that made her feel.
To know that she was not simply a freak of nature was both a
relief, yet at the same time, those with her power were not
necessarily her friends. Simply because they shared the same gift,
did not ensure that they weren't her enemies and willing to do her
harm.

Thinking herself alone, and now realizing
that she wasn't...either way, she was still in danger. From who,
she was yet to discover. But discover she would, that was for
certain.

And now, experiencing the terrifying power
that the ring could harness, Isabeau understood why she'd been
chased. Why her parents' had been killed. Power always brought
corruption and for the ring to have brought her from the brink of
death, then it was something that many, many people would want.

A cry shot out and she spun around and saw
what seemed like hundreds upon hundreds of blinking torches as they
ran towards her. Men seeking her. She didn't know how they had
realized she'd managed to escape, nor did she care. Isabeau just
needed to focus and ignore those who were searching for her.

She licked her lips and tried to pick up her
pace but only managed to increase her speed slightly. Spying the
huge forest before her, she sighed with relief when the heavy
canopies blotted out the dim light of the moon and hopefully, hid
her fleeing figure from the men chasing her.

The darkness in the woods made it impossible
to go far. She knew that as soon as she was enveloped on all sides
by a relentless vista of trees. Knowing that she needed to climb up
one of those trees, didn't help at all. Her body was healed but
still feeling the after-effects of almost dying! She certainly did
not feel up to climbing one of the huge trees in this forest!

Taking baby steps and holding her arms
out so as not walk into a tree trunk, eventually her eyes grew
accustomed to the lack of light. She began to
'
see
'
the
dark shapes and knew to step away or around them.

The trees heavily blanketed any sound and the
pure silence was, in its own way, rather deafening. Her ears felt
as though there were some kind of weight upon them. Almost as
though they were about to 'pop' as they did when water entered them
after a swim.

It was not a pleasant sensation and when she
reached a part of the woods where the canopies weren't so heavy,
she wished for the silence to return as suddenly, a great flapping
sound appeared from nowhere.

Wondering what on earth was happening, she
spun around in a circle and sought out the sound. It was impossible
to see anything, but the echoing sounds of great wings being
flapped made her feel chilly with fear.

What could create such a noise? Nothing
outside of a nightmare, she thought frantically.

She refused to survive a fall that would have
killed an ordinary person only to be eaten alive by some kind of
monster. Never had she heard anything so noisy. But it could only
be a bird! But what kind of bird? It made even the eagles she had
seen sound tiny!

Running now, uncaring of the prospect of
falling over, or even slamming into a tree trunk, she ignored the
twinges of pain that roared through her joints and ran for her
life. When talons gripped her shoulders, she screamed and tried to
run even faster, but the great, flapping wings almost hid the
sound.

Another scream, this one unending, escaped
her as she felt her feet leave the ground and when something
launched about her knees and dragged her down, she sobbed out in
thanks.

Even being held captive at Wolfe's castle was
better than being eaten alive by some hideous monster or huge bird
or whatever it bloody was!

Cringing inwardly at the jolt her body was
about to take when it landed against the debris of loam and leaves
with a crash, Isabeau was relieved when the person who had saved
her, took the brunt of the fall.

“T-Thank you,” she said with a gasp and heard
the man yell as she inadvertently dug her elbow into his side.
“S-Sorry!”

“I'm not surprised that you attack your
defender, Isabeau,” came Wolfe's maddening voice. Why did he always
sound as though he were laughing at her?

With a slight grunt, she replied, “I
shouldn't be surprised that you persist in diverting yourself on my
account! What was that thing?”

“A griffin.”

The ease in which he named the half lion,
half eagle hybrid stunned her. Her mouth popped open and closed
again, before realizing that he was teasing her, she said with a
huff, “If you don't want to tell me what it was, then you just have
to say so!”

“I told you what it was. If you choose not to
believe me, then that's your prerogative!”

“Griffins don't exist!” she gritted out
between a clenched jaw.

“Apparently they do, and you were almost
eaten by one,” he retorted and she heard the damned amusement in
his voice, yet again! Did he not know that it was impolite to
constantly make fun of a person?

“Why are you always laughing at me?”

“Perhaps, because you are amusing?”

“Don't answer a question with a question,
Wolfe!”

“Twas a griffin. I'm telling you the
truth!”

She realized that they were wrapped in each
other's arms and instantly, she pulled away and tugged herself
free. She only moved a few steps away from him, letting her
buttocks slide through the dirt to place some distance between
them. She was fully aware that he would come after her if she chose
to run and at this moment, she didn't have the energy to do more
than simply sit!

“Griffins don't exist,” she repeated.

“Yes, they do. Virgins are to their taste.
Their prized food, in fact.”

“Now I know you're lying!”