Chapter Thirty-Five

 

The water had reached the shelf’s edge that Gabriella was shackled to. Bile rose in her throat, her pulse quickened and her breath began to come in hard, quick gasps. It was pitch black, and she couldn’t see two fingers in front of her face even if she poked herself in the eye. She was shivering from the cold and she knew that her wrists were worn bloody where she had tried to pull them free of the shackles.

I’m going to die in this damn forsaken hole! She cursed as the water continued to rise from the tide. She didn’t know how long the tide would continue to come in before she would probably drown or die of hypothermia, but she was sure that it would probably be soon. She was so tired. All she wanted to do was lay down and rest. She needed to rest for the baby’s sake. But she couldn’t. If she lay down, she would drown in the tide water.

Where the hell is Damon? Why hasn’t he come and rescued me? Damn him for leaving me here to drown in a Goddamn cave! And then she thought, why am I thinking so hard to myself? “It’s not as if someone can answer me,” she said out loud.

“Damon!” She yelled. “Damon!” She continued yelling for ten minutes until she was completely spent and her voice raw. The water was knee high and she sagged in the shackles, unable to hold herself up any longer. Too tired to fight the exhaustion, her eyes closed with visions of Damon behind her lids.

She dreamed of him holding her, rocking her softly. But then it became a jostling, her limbs being shaken roughly and she tried to use her arms to push him away, but her arms wouldn’t move and memory started to seep through her veil of sleep. She was roughly shaken again, this time her head slamming against the wall.

“Wake up, you little bitch.”

Gabriella opened her eyes to the same nightmare of the night before. A groan escaped her before she could suppress it, bringing a smile from her captor.

“Time to move, you pathetic wench. I am sure your Norman bastard is figuring out that two and two is not quite four. And when he finds that he can add, well, it will be too late,” he remarked, a smarmy chuckle escaping as he undid her shackles.

She dropped to the floor of the shelf, unable to hold herself up.

“Get up,” he said, grabbing her by the hair and pulling her from the shelf. “We have a lot of ground to cover and I will not have you holding me back. Into the forest, we must be by nightfall. I am to rendezvous with your next jailer, collect my fee, watch the great and powerful Dragon of Blackmoor die a gruesome death, and have a wonderful remainder of my week, thank you very much. So get a move on, dragon’s whore.”

He continued to pull her by the hair, and despite her weakness, her aches, and her fear, she was sick to death of this pathetic little weasel of a man calling her a bitch and a whore. And she swore if it was the last thing she would do, she was going to make sure she got one good punch on him.

Letting him drag her out of the cave and into the morning light, her eyes squinted, trying to adjust from being stuck in the darkness for so long. She wasn’t sure, but she would almost swear he had left her in there for at least two days, gauging by the tides coming and going. And lucky for her—or unlucky, depending on how far he decided to drag her—the tide hadn’t drowned her either. But she was soaked from her chin down, so it had obviously been pretty close. She was starving and thirsty, but at least she hadn’t gotten morning sickness since she had been abducted.

He pulled her along the beach as close to the cliff edge as possible so the guards along the watchtower wouldn’t be able to see them. Hearing the hiss of metal clearing a scabbard, she felt the pierce of sword against her skin at her throat.

“Make one sound, milady whore, and I swear I will cut you a new smile. Do you understand?”

All she could do was nod as he pulled her further down the beach. They walked for at least an hour before coming to where two horses were tethered to an outcropping of bushes near a path leading upward along the cliffs. Gabriella was never so relieved to see a horse in all her life. Shoving her to the ground, he pulled her wrists in front of her and bound them with a piece of rope.

“Sit there while I ready our horses,” he told her. “And if you move, I swear I will kill you myself.”

Gabriella glared at him. She wanted to punch him square in the mouth, but she knew she’d have to wait. Sitting where he shoved her, her stomach grumbled loudly. “Do you have any food and water?” she asked, not caring what he warned. She was dying of starvation and thirst.

He tossed her a sack, and inside she found a water bag, some dried meat, cheese and some hard bread. She scarfed down a little of the meat and as much of the bread as she dared, not wanting to eat too much and become nauseous. The water was like liquid heaven on her lips. But before she had a chance to finish, he jerked the water away from her, picked up the bag of food and tucked both away on his horse.

“Get up, it’s time to go.”

His orders were really beginning to get on her last waking nerve. Now that she’d eaten and drunk something, she was feeling more like herself. She knew she shouldn’t do it. Knew she would pay for it. But she couldn’t stop herself. “I can’t get up. My legs are too sore,” she mumbled weakly.

“You can get up now, milady, or I will get you up,” he snarled.

“I’m telling you I can’t move my legs,” she bit back.

He released the horses and stomped over to her.

Just a second more, Gabriella. Not yet. Not yet.

Wham! She kicked out with both feet straight into his groin. As he fell to his knees, his face flushing a horrid color of purple, she swung her wrists with her entire body into the side of his temple and cold cocked him. He landed on the ground with a thud, his eyes rolling back.

Reaching into his scabbard, she pulled the dagger from it, held it in her teeth and angled it between her bound wrists, sawing to get them free. The rope was shredding with each stroke as she jerked her head up and down, trying to hurry before he came to his senses. But if she went too fast, she would surely slice her wrists open.

As the final binding came free, she tossed the dagger down the beach and made a run for one of the horses. Gathering up her sodden, filthy skirt and placing her foot in the stirrup, hope flared in her breast for the first time in days. She could make the castle in twenty minutes.

Damon would be back soon, and she would be safe once again. She just had to get on this damn horse. As she grabbed the reins to pull herself up, she was pulled clean off the horse and landed flat on her back in the cold, moist sand.

He jumped on top of her and held her down, pinning her arms beneath his knees bruising her arms in the process. “You bitch,” he roared as he slapped her across the face. He hit her once, twice, three times.

She tried to curl into a ball to protect her child. The world closed around her in a dark black haze.

* * * * * *

Dusk was settling across the plain as they reached the open field between Blackmoor Castle and the thick, dark forest. The sky was a deep shade of coppery red, like autumn leaves drenched in blood, as darkness descended all around the edges of the world.

“We should split our forces here, my friend,” Richard offered. “My men and I can start the search of the edge of the forest and the grounds closest to it and the sea, while your men search the areas along the castle and the cliffs at the bottom. We can meet somewhere in the middle,” he said.

Damon considered Richard’s plan. “Aye,” he said. “Tanak can accompany you. I will meet you halfway when we have searched the entire seaside. If we find her, I will send a rider with word.”

Richard nodded his agreement and turned to the front of his contingent of men, whispering orders to his commander in passing.

“Stay close to Richard, my friend,” Damon advised Tanak. “There is something I am just not certain of. My gut is giving me warnings, and my heart is telling me these warnings cannot be true.”

“As you say,” Tanak agreed.

Damon watched them ride away, grateful that his friend Tanak never questioned him, and was always there to watch his back. He just hoped that he hadn’t sent him into the lion’s den to be devoured.

Turning his horse, he led his men towards Blackmoor, giving orders to the men that were with him to search the cliff side and beach below. There was to be no cave left unchecked. No dune left unturned. He would find her. And God help the man, or men who were responsible.

They searched long into the night until the moon was full over the ocean and a light breeze rolled off the foaming waves. There was no storm this night, but in the distance one was coming, if the lightning out over the sea was any indicator. The wind was slowly beginning to pick up and the waves’ tempo crashing over the rocks was raising the hackles of horses and men alike.

Shouts down the beach brought Damon’s attention around to a cave that two of his men were running out of.

“Here, milord,” one shouted. “Down here.”

Damon kicked his horse down the beach as fast as he could, stirring up sand and water as he went. He reached the cave opening, pulling hard on the reins, and jumped off, not waiting for the horse to entirely stop. He had to hunch over to enter the low opening. He was handed a torch to see and slowly walked towards the back of the small cave.

Near the back, he found the shackles above the shelf on the far wall. There he found a small torn piece of cloth from the last dress he had seen Gabriella wearing. His chest clenched in fear and anger. Reaching for the shackles, his fingers shook as he touched them. They came away with what seemed to be blood. It was almost dry and stood out darkly on the tips of his trembling hand before he clenched it into a fist. She hadn’t been gone too long from the cave. Not so long that I can’t find her, he thought hopefully for the first time in days.

Leaving the cave, he yelled to his men, “Mount up, we ride towards the forest and down the beach, there has to be a trail from here to there.” With purpose driving him, he raced down the beach, searching. Eventually he found what he was looking for. Wrapped to a small branch in an outcropping of the cliff was more of Gabriella’s torn dress. That is it, my love, leave me a trail to find you and I swear I shall ride through hell to get you back, he vowed.

Darkness was a fully encompassing blanket as they climbed to the top of the cliff. When they reached the ground where the rocky edges left off and the plain began, a trail was spotted.

“Two horses, milord,” Simon, his best tracker, advised. “One carrying that of a lighter weight, possibly that of a woman. The other heavier, leading the second close behind. They go in the direction of the forest.”

“Aye, Simon, then into the forest we follow. We should meet Sir Richard and his men along the way as they double back towards us,” Damon said.

They rode off into the darkness like a band of midnight demons traveling the road to hell. Their horses turning the dust of the plain like the smoke of Hades. Damon’s one hand stayed at his sword, the other on the reins as he spurred his horse on. He was close. He could feel it in his blood.

Simon rode ahead, keeping an eye on the trail. He would turn back if the trail was lost or faltered in any way.

They rode on for at least an hour before the thunder of a single horse rose in the distance. Damon signaled for his men to slow their pace until they could see the rider. As Simon approached, Damon rode ahead. “What is it?”

“The trail leads into the forest. It appears that Sir Richard’s men have found the trail as well, and have gone in after her. However, there are no guards posted at the forest edge.”

“Something is beginning to truly stink of betrayal.” Damon scowled in the direction of the forest.

“Aye, milord. It would appear so,” Simon agreed.

Signaling his men forward, he advised them of the situation. They would be evenly matched if Richard had indeed betrayed him. And if he did—then God have mercy on his soul.

Kicking his horse into a gallop, they rode over the last expanse of the plain and into the forest. They rode slowly through darkness, blending into the darkness, silent and as one with death. This night would bring an ending, and each man felt it as they pulled their swords from their scabbards. Felt the silent zing pulse through their skin as they searched the night for their enemies.

Just beyond a mass of fallen trees, in a small clearing, they found them. Sir Richard stood congratulating Smedely for a job well done as he held Gabriella by the hair. Her hands tied before her, Damon could see by the light of the moon the bruises that marred the whole left side of her face. His hand gripped his sword so tightly that the jewel embedded into it cut into his skin and blood pooled in the palm of his hand.

Smedely held Tanak at sword point. “And what do you wish me to do with this heathen?” he asked.

“Kill him,” Richard replied coldly.

His indifference brought a gasp from Gabriella.

Richard tightened his hold in her hair and said, “Hold your tongue, milady, or I will gladly cut it out.”

“Damon will kill you for this,” she boldly stated, her eyes boring into his with enough hate to kill him where he stood.

“Damon,” he laughed. “Your precious Damon will be dead before he leaves his keep. And the most amusing part of all of this is that your dragon has paid for this little war from his own coiffeurs. Every piece of gold from his war chest. Every death on his hands. And,” he continued boastfully, “he has been bested by his own steward, and has had his whore stolen by his best friend and has known of none of it. None of it, milady,” he yelled into the darkness. “And to make this game even more fun, his pathetic worm of a cousin is going to be blamed for all of this. While we walk away rich, free men. So tell me,” he said, pulling her against him and stroking her face with his glove-covered hand. “What do you think that Damon will do?”

“I will kill you, of course,” Damon said into the silence of the forest, his voice as deep and merciless as the darkness itself. He stood but a foot away from Richard and his men. Damon’s men had totally surrounded them, swords drawn and ready for battle.

Startled, Richard threw Gabriella to the ground. “Kill that bastard,” he yelled to Smedely, pointing to Tanak.

Smedely turned and, with a quickness one wouldn’t expect from a steward, stabbed Tanak through the chest.

Gabriella hit the ground hard, unable to catch herself with her hands bound in front of her. She watched in horror as Damon stood his ground, waiting for Richard to face him.

“You will die this day for the crimes that you have committed, Sir Richard of Woodmir. I stand before you as champion of King William the Conqueror and charge you of murder and high treason. For this there will be no trial, no hanging. Just death.”

Richard’s bark of laughter rang out through the clearing as he circled. “Always the great and mighty Dragon. Executioner. Just like you were with Therese. Tell me, Damon, how did it feel to know she loved another?“ He continued to circle.

Damon clenched his sword tighter, following Richard’s lead, never taking his gaze from him. His men had already overtaken Richard’s men without a true battle ensuing. The true battle was between their leaders. For those who truly resisted their punishment, certain death was eminent.

“She was an extraordinary woman.” He continued to bait him. “Wasted on you, if I say so myself. Oh, but how she felt in my arms when you were away.” He lunged forward, catching Damon off-guard and slicing his left arm.

“You truly are a bastard of the deepest form,” he told Richard, swinging his own blade in a counterattack. The fire of hatred grew in his belly as the years washed over him, and Richard’s words fermented like decades-old wine left in the sun to rot. He slashed and hacked as fury spurred him on.

Rising to her feet, Gabriella could only watch helplessly as Richard continued to taunt him with tales of his deceit and his affair with Damon’s dead wife. Damon fought Richard back and forth in a constant battle, attack and parry as both men were equally matched. Damon struck Richard as he stumbled over a rock, cutting him across his right cheek, blood quickly rushing down his jaw.

Richard touched his hand to his face and glared at Damon, obviously incensed at the wound. “You will pay for that mark,” he vowed, and turned sharply towards Gabriella. “Mayhap she will die just as your family did. ‘Tis a pity, really.”

Gabriella instantly started taking steps backward, looking around for a direction to flee. Tanak was still lying on the ground, one of Damon’s soldiers trying to staunch the flow of blood from his wound. Smedely was being tied up and led away by another of the guards. There was no one else close enough to protect her from Richard but Damon, and even he wasn’t close enough.

“Your sister truly was a beauty,” Richard continued as he stalked towards Gabriella.

Damon froze in fury. “I swear to God, Richard, if you are responsible for the death of my mother and sister as well, I will kill you with my bare hands.”

“Really? Did you know your sister was a screamer?” he taunted. “She screamed beneath me as I took her over and over again. Of course, then I had to slit her throat. The screaming really was becoming tiresome,” he added nonchalantly.

Damon looked at Gabriella and said, “Run.”

She blinked, stunned, too shocked and too frightened to move.

Damon’s words shook her resolve as he yelled at her again, “Woman, if you love me at all, run. Run, goddamn it!”

Richard lunged for her and she staggered back, all but tripping on her dress. Pulling up the front of it quickly, she took two steps and was out of his reach as Damon jumped on Richard, tackling him to the ground.

Gabriella took off straight into the forest. Her feet kept moving as her fear propelled her on.

When she could run no farther, she staggered to the ground and fell to her knees, gasping for breath. She lay on the ground and wept for all she was worth.

Damon could hear her cries as he searched the forest for her. He had told her to run, so afraid that Richard would reach her and kill her where she stood. He had made true of his vow to kill him with his bare hands, beating him until one of his soldiers had to pull him off him. He had beaten him to a bloody, ruined mass, completely unrecognizable except for the strands of blond hair that weren’t covered in blood.

From there, he staggered through the woods, searching for Gabriella, calling out for her. Needing her in his arms as he had needed no other person before her. He found her by a fallen tree, with Smedely and a dagger to her throat.

His sword in its scabbard, he was basically unarmed. He had no idea how the man had gotten free, but he’d be damned if he’d allow him to hurt her again. Reaching for his sword, he froze when Smedely angled the point into the flesh of her neck.

“Uh-uh. I’d not advise it, milord,” he said as his bravado made him fearless.

Gabriella was clenched in his arms, her face bruised and her body battered, weariness marring her every movement. She stared at Damon, begging him to do something, her hope and faith in him filling her eyes.

He could tell by the look on her face that she had reached her limit of all she could take. She was planning to make a move, and expected him to follow through on it. She was his warrior woman. The other part of his soul. His equal and other half. He gave her a subtle nod, neither saying a word. Neither wanted to wait to hear any other demands of any kind from Smedely. This would end, and it would end now.

Gabriella rammed her elbow into his midsection as hard as she could. Slammed her head up and back into his jaw and Adam’s Apple, then Gabriella threw herself so hard to the ground that her arms jarred from the force. She was on an incline and rolled down the side over tufts of foliage, small rocks and tree limbs. Her hands still bound, she was unable to catch herself quickly and continued to roll, bouncing down the incline into another downed tree, smacking her head against its side where a branch had been broken off.

Damon charged forward, sword drawn. He drove it deep into Smedely’s midsection, tearing up and across before coming out one side.

Smedely fell where he stood.

Damon came crashing down the side to get to her. “Gabriella,” he whispered, getting down beside her to hold her in his arms. She was bleeding down the side of her head and struggled to keep her eyes open.

“Damon,” she said.

“Aye, my love. I’m here.”

“I love you,” she told him.”

“Aye. And I love you.”

“Take me home.”

Damon held her in his arms and felt a small jolt rush through him. He stared in awe and fear as Gabriella started to fade. “No,” he whispered. “No, Gabriella, do not leave me. You cannot leave me.”

“Damon,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I love you.”

Gabriella evaporated in his arms like the mist rising off the ocean as it fans against cliffs. Damon’s roar rent through the forest like a thousand dying warriors searching for the light.