Chapter Thirty-Two #2
“Because my brother is vile and corrupt, and sweet Gabrielle must be helped,” she said passionately, pulling her cloak about her tighter. “My brother and his army are riding to John’s aid this night; your husband must be made aware.”
Dustin could see what a great risk this woman was taking and she forced herself to swallow her apprehension and put on a brave front. “I shall go and tell him now. Thank you, Lady Isobelle. Truly you are very brave.”
Lady Isobelle nodded shortly and glanced about her again.
Satisfied she hadn’t been followed, she swept away from Dustin and went back down the corridor.
Dustin took a few steps further into the hall, watching the rotund woman as she slipped down the way.
An intangible darkness swirled about them, as if they had been made privy to the plans of Lucifer himself and Dustin felt an unconscious chill run over her.
“What was that all about?” Deborah gasped, suddenly standing behind her.
Dustin shook her head faintly, still watching the cloaked figure. “We must find Chris. He should be at the barracks.”
“Do you believe her, then?” Deborah demanded softly. “Who is she?”
“The Earl of Fenwark’s sister,” Dustin replied. “Damn the man. He whored his own wife to the prince. Christopher said he was evil and I should have listened. My Lord, what if….”
She started to turn toward her sister-in-law when a bloodcurdling scream filled the still air of the corridor.
Both women whirled around to see Lady Isobelle being stabbed repeatedly by a shrouded figure in black.
Astonished and horrified, they continued to watch in frozen terror as the assailant cut Lady Isobelle brutally, not even stopping when the woman fell to the ground.
The pounding was merciless and driven, speaking of unmentionable hatred and anger.
Dustin was shocked to the core, too stunned to even turn and run.
She could hear Deborah’s shrieks and felt her pulling on her arm.
Even as the attacker turned to the both of them, several more mysterious figures appeared, and she could not seem to make her feet move.
But her shock quickly wore off when she realized the figures were now coming for her.
And she knew they would kill her in the same grisly fashion. Panic surged through her.
“Run!” she roared to Deborah.
Dustin had always been able to run like a deer, but Deborah was having difficulty keeping up and the pursuers were gaining.
Unfortunately, they were in a deserted wing of the castle and there was no one to hear their cries for help.
Yet, they were also fairly close to the rear courtyard and the paths that led to the barracks.
Terror filled every inch of her body like flowing fire and her chest burned with exertion as she tore through the hall with Deborah on her heels.
Lord, if they could only make it to the outside door, they would have a chance.
The door at the end of the hall that led to the outside was locked.
They pulled and tore at it, but the bolt was locked and they obviously had no key.
Despair swept over Dustin and Deborah began a panicked chant, but neither would give up.
Being intelligent woman who were fighting for their very lives, they saw a chance to escape through the latticed windows.
Dustin smashed the wood with her hands, scraping and cutting them, but that was nothing compared to what would happen to her if the molesters caught up to them.
She boosted Deborah up through the window first, shoving the woman roughly through the small opening.
Then, with Deborah’s help, she managed to thrust herself through the orifice, tearing her surcoat to shreds with the jagged wood as she squirmed through, all the while hearing the footsteps growing deafeningly loud as the men caught up to them.
With every footstep, her heart pounded harder and when she finally slipped through the window and fell to the ground, it was with a shout of triumphant relief.
Deborah yanked her to her feet and they were off and running again, pounding over the frozen earth but sweating rivers with the exertion. A glance over her shoulder told Dustin that at least two pursuers had made it through the window and were even now racing after them.
“Deborah,” she gasped. “Can you make it to the barracks?”
Deborah was losing ground, jeopardizing them both. “I….I can try.”
Dustin’s heart was sinking even lower; she could not leave Deborah behind but she obviously could not carry her. Dustin knew she could make it to the barracks easily, slowing now to keep pace with her sister-in-law. But any slower and they would be caught.
“Go for the castle,” Dustin heaved. “Find the soldiers!”
An entrance to a main portion of the castle was off to the right; Deborah could make it and then find help.
The crown soldiers would protect her to the death.
There was simply no way Deborah was going to make it all the way to the troop grounds, and Dustin knew she had to make it to her husband or she would never see him again.
She knew instinctively the pursuers were after her.
If she and Deborah split up, she hoped they would concentrate more on her and give Deborah a chance to escape.
“But… Dustin!” she cried. “I cannot leave you.”
“Leave me or we’re both lost!” Dustin shrieked. “Into the castle. Now!”
She heard Deborah’s panting cries as she darted off for the castle. Dustin didn’t even look to see how many were pursuing her sister-in-law; she was confident Deborah could find help before they were able to catch her.
Dustin bound down one of the paths that led through the wall and out into the open.
As she was entering the short tunnel, something hit the wall beside her and she shrieked; she caught a flash of metal and knew it to be a well-aimed dagger.
Driven by new terror, she tore through the tunnel with amazing speed and emerged into the clearing that preceded the troop grounds.
The dead shrubs provided no coverage as she raced through them, snagging her legs on the dry branches. Her chest was close to exploding with the pain of her run, but she forced the discomfort away. She knew she must be completely focused on her destination or all would be lost.
Dustin could hear the footsteps behind her, faint but unmistakable.
It was no time before she emerged onto an open field, sloping toward the vast arena and training grounds of the troops.
It had begun to mist, freezing water coating her, but she tore down the slope hearing her heart pounding in her ears and praying to God to let her make it to Christopher.
She could not even think of Deborah anymore; she was only concerned with her own precious hide.
She rounded the side of the arena and was met with the sounds of a horse thundering toward her.
Knowing it was a pursuer coming to catch her, she dipped under the wooden rail of the arena to separate herself from the horseman, catching a glimpse of him from the corner of her eye and hearing shouts as he re-routed his men.
Dustin tore a wild trail across the arena, the very same arena where Christopher had been injured, and scampered out the other side into a bank of dormant oak trees.
Dustin could see people up ahead of her at the stables and she screamed at the top of her lungs to them to find Baron Christopher. Her whole body was aching desperately and she knew she could not go much farther; she could only pray that the stunned groomsmen would help her.
She could hear that damnable horse again, behind her and gaining rapidly.
Fortunately, she was closer to the stables now and she ran an obstacle course through a couple of wagons, pulling the front of one askew to slow her pursuers.
She raced inside to one of the enclosed stable wings and ran down the wide open corridor, hoping the man on horseback wouldn’t pursue her inside the stable.
Her ears peaked, for she no longer heard the hooves and a fleeting bit of hope touched her. Mayhap she would make it, after all.
But the hope was premature, for as soon as she exited the stable, the man on horseback was waiting for her.
Dustin skidded to a halt and crashed into the horse, slamming heavily into it and landing on her arse.
Panic surging through her, she scrambled underneath the dancing animal and fought off an assailant who tried to grab her skirts.
Screaming bloody murder at them, she stumbled and ran off as fast as her shaky legs would carry her.
There was shouting going on all around her, but she was too consumed with her own fear to see that the stable hands were fighting off her attackers, stabbing them with pitchforks and trying to slow their progress.
She continued to run, her breathing coming in ragged gasps, straining to keep the pace as she madly dashed along the L-shaped back of stalls and rounded the corner.
Relief began to fill her when she saw the barracks and several hundred troops not far ahead.
But her head was beginning to swim and her arms and legs were beginning to feel strange, as if she were losing control over them. But she pushed, pushed, pushed; pressing onward because her very life hung in the balance. She had to make it to the soldiers or die.
Through her swirling vision, she saw men in armor running toward her and she knew with flooding relief she had reached safety. But she could not seem to stop running until one of the men reached out and grabbed her.
“Jesus. Dustin!” It was David. “What is the mat…?”