Chapter Thirty-Seven #4
Gaston literally handed him the two boys and moved to pick up his sword. Gripping the hilt firmly, he pointed to the stairs. “Go now. I have a man to kill.”
“He’s going for the servant’s entrance in the kitchen,” Dane said quickly. “He breached it.”
Gaston’s eyes trailed to the dining hall and the kitchens beyond; kitchens full of potentially lethal instruments. Considering the ambush he had walked into upon entering the foyer, he was extremely wary.
“I shall take care of him,” he said confidently, tilting his head in the direction of the stairs. “Go now. To the tower and stay there.”
The three boys were gone and Gaston made his way hastily through the dining hall, feeling his skin prickling with anxiety. Cautiously, he paused at the door leading into the kitchens and peered inside.
There was no movement and little light. Ducking low, out of the line of fire, he crept low into the kitchens, pausing every so often to listen carefully.
In all of his armor he was hardly silent, but the room was dimly lit and that worked to his advantage; Stoneley may be able to hear him, but he couldn’t see him.
Gaston crept along the floor, finally rising at the next doorway and pressing himself against the wall.
His breathing was rapid with excitement and the palm holding the sword was sweating.
The next room was void of motion. Off of this room was the storage area where the servant’s entrance was located, and that was Gaston’s destination.
If Stoneley had escaped he was apt to follow, but he did not believe the man to take the coward’s way out.
Stoneley was too clever and sinister for that.
Gaston crept along the wall toward the storage room.
At the doorway, he paused and tried to stop his harsh breathing.
Stoneley was a worthy adversary and Gaston was uncomfortable in the confines of the kitchens.
Out in the open was an ideal situation for him; he was far too large to fight effectively in close quarters such as this.
But Stoneley knew that, which was why he had retreated into the kitchens as opposed to the bailey.
The storage room was silent. The breached door was open a man’s width, the light from mid-afternoon casting a blinding stream into the storage room.
Gaston paused at the threshold, too blinded by the bright light to be able to see very well.
He almost stepped in at his full height, intent on studying the open door.
But at the very last second, his sixth sense told him to crouch and he did.
Not three feet above his head, a six-foot-long iron spit went sailing into the wall with a startling clang.
Gaston flinched and whirled in the direction from whence the spit had been launched. Guy stood several feet away, a sword gleaming in his hand.
Not a word was said. Gaston raised his sword offensively and rushed Guy, who brought his own sword up and fended off a blow hard enough to send him to his knees.
But he was quick and skillful and was on his feet again, bringing his blade up to avoid another lethal blow.
Gaston had him cornered, but he ducked another slice of the blade and danced through a doorway leading into a smaller kitchen room.
Gaston was almost as big as the room itself and it was extremely difficult for him to maneuver in.
Guy took the offensive, whipping his sword through the air at Gaston, who put up his sword to avoid having his head cut off.
He returned the blows, meeting with air as Stoneley, lighter and smaller and without all of the excess weighty armor, eluded the chops.
Angered that he was not being successful in his attack, Gaston heightened his swordplay and gave Guy no time to raise his own sword in the offensive; Gaston’s slices were fast and furious and powerful and he succeeded in completely demolishing the room as he pursued Stoneley.
Guy tripped into the larger of the kitchen rooms where both men had originally entered.
Rolling to the floor, he was instantly on his feet again and bringing his blade up in answer to Gaston’s furious blow.
In the larger room, both men had ample space to work properly and sparks flew in the air as metal met metal with bone-shattering force.
The pain, the anguish behind Gaston’s mighty blows told Guy that, indeed, the man was entirely serious in his quest to murder him.
Up until that point, Guy was never truly concerned that the Dark One could managed to do him harm.
Guy was too fast, too skilled, and too brilliant.
De Russe would have no chance against him.
But fending off Gaston’s blows told Guy that the Dark One was not only serious but that he fully intended to carry out his desires. For the first time, Guy began to feel a bud of blossoming fear.
Gaston had again managed to back Guy into a corner.
Surprised that he had been directed into a compromising position, Guy tried to use strength to drive Gaston backward, but it was a foolish mistake; Gaston was by far stronger than Stoneley and brought his sword up in a fierce uppercut with the intention of puncturing Guy’s belly.
Guy, however, brought his sword down at the same time and barely managed to fend off the blow, yet in the process, Gaston had managed to disarm him.
He watched for a split second as his weapon went hurtling across the room.
There was no chance to regain it; if he tried he would again be forced into a dead end and Guy would not risk it.
Instead, he had to find another weapon or get the hell out of the kitchens.
Gaston, seeing his prey was defenseless, charged the man, but Guy was quicker and managed to evade the tackle.
Sword flashing, Gaston followed Guy in a wild course through the kitchens, the pantry, and back out into the dining hall.
Guy was fast, but Gaston encompassed a greater distance with his long strides, keeping the gap between the two men close.
Guy mounted the stairs with Gaston hot on his heels as he followed him to the second floor. However, Gaston lost ground on the stairs simply because it was extremely difficult to take them quickly in his bulky armor, but once he reached the landing he made up for lost time.
His determination was feeding off his quest for vengeance.
He was focused on the one task ahead of him; to catch Guy and to kill him.
When Guy raced into the family’s corridor, Gaston followed closely and began to formulate a plan to trip him.
He would have liked to sail his sword along the floor for Guy to stumble over, thereby allowing Gaston to catch up to him, but he did not want to part with his sword and risk the possibility of Guy retrieving it.
Unfortunately, Guy was widening the distance between them simply because he was running without hundreds of pounds of armor.
Gaston’s pace had not slacked, merely the fact that Guy’s had increased.
Gaston began to reconsider throwing his sword yet extremely reluctant to hand Guy a potential advantage.
But it was increasingly evident if he did not do something quickly, Guy would lose him shortly. And he meant to have Guy at any cost.
Guy breezed past the rooms that had housed Jasmine, Rory and Skye. Rooms he had raped them in, rooms where Jasmine had borne his bastard. Rooms full of shame and pain and horror. The rooms were silent now, having once been filled with screams and pleas from frightened young women.
Guy did not give them a second glance; he was too busy putting space between him and the Dark One.
De Russe’s footsteps were falling behind him and Guy began to feel a seed of hope that he could somehow lose him, at least long enough to gain a weapon.
Triumph began to rear its head in Guy’s mind as he rounded the corner and headed down another corridor; he knew he was gaining the edge until he saw Rory standing in front of him.
Guy stumbled to a halt, astonished beyond belief. Gaston rounded the corner and saw Guy standing there, victory within his grasp until he too saw Rory standing several feet in front of Guy. Gaston came to a halt and nearly tripped over a rug in his amazement.
Rory just stood there, gazing at Guy serenely.
It was an expression Gaston had never seen before on her face, and he furthermore wondered if he was hallucinating.
Guy was frozen to the spot in front of him; Gaston should have taken the opportunity to kill him right there, but he couldn’t seem to overcome his shock at seeing a ghost.
“Rory!” Guy bellowed.
The apparition did not respond to him, simply continuing to gaze as if she were looking right through him.
Dressed in the emerald green surcoat she had been buried in, Gaston took a good hard look.
Never had he seen her look lovelier, her red hair flowing and soft, her pretty face bordering on a smile.
In spite of his shock, he found himself smiling at the surprise of it all.
“You said she was dead!” Guy boomed.
“She is,” Gaston replied with amazing calm.
Guy clenched his fists, terrified out of his mind. “Good God!”
Rory had effectively blocked his path down the corridor. Rather than rush a specter, Guy turned abruptly to his left and chose another route. The route to the tower.
Gaston let him go for a moment, knowing there was nowhere to go inside the tower.
Instead, he continued to gaze at Rory and was not surprised when the vision focused on him.
His smile grew wider and he swore he saw her smile broaden, too.
It was as if she were lending Gaston assistance by sending Guy into the twisting confines of the tower.
As if she had known that Guy was gaining headway on Gaston and most likely would have evaded him down the length of the long corridor.