Chapter Thirty-Seven #2
This was the man he had wreaked havoc on ever since Derek’s death, the man who had not retaliated.
Keith had felt powerful running amuck over the Dark One until now.
It was plain that the duke could have easily crushed him had he so desired.
As it was, he still could crush him and Keith decided to stay where he was and not venture into the melee.
From the looks of it, the Dark One was cutting down soldiers like blades of tall grass and Botmore had no desire to be mowed.
So he began to yell. Hollering de Russe’s name, screaming at the top of his lungs.
The closer the duke came, the more Botmore maneuvered himself closer until he was standing directly over Gaston as he fought his way into the inner bailey.
He continued to yell his name, finally resorting to yelling Trenton’s name.
Within the second shout of his son’s name, Gaston came to a halt and turned his head upward.
Keith felt a bolt of fear shoot through him as Gaston de Russe focused on him. Although he couldn’t see his face, he knew his expression to be most intimidating.
“Guy wishes to see you,” Keith yelled down. “Dismount your horse and release your weapons.”
“Where is he?” Gaston bellowed.
“Inside,” Keith responded. “Do as you are told. He holds your son captive.”
Gaston did not hesitate. He dismounted Taran and dropped his sword to the ground. His shield went clattering and he marched in through the inner gate as if there was no war going on around him. Keith was astonished at the fearlessness demonstrated.
Hastily, Botmore descended the wall and met Gaston at the castle entrance, a safe distance between the two men. Even though Keith was armed, he had no doubt that the weapon was meaningless against the Dark One. Gazing at the most feared man in the realm made his knees quiver.
“Are my sons whole?” Gaston demanded.
Keith looked puzzled. “We have but one. Trenton.”
“What of Dane?”
“Guy’s son is whole, too.”
“He is my son,” Gaston repeated in a tone that would tolerate no contradiction. “Where is Stoneley?”
“In the grand foyer,” Keith replied.
Gaston did not wait for any more talk or instruction. Purposely, he marched forward into the cool bowels of Mt. Holyoak.
The corridor leading to the foyer was dark and musty.
Gaston’s footfalls sounded like hammer blows as he stormed toward the designated area.
Ahead at the end of the hall he could see the faint glow from the foyer torches and he focused on the light, trying to fight down his anger and apprehension.
He could not predict that Guy had not harmed either boy; Guy had proven he was highly unpredictable and intelligent.
There was absolutely no telling what he had done.
Gaston stomped to the threshold of the foyer, preparing to seek out Stoneley’s form.
Yet the very moment he stepped from the corridor, something heavy and massive slammed into his face and he was reeling, crashing to the floor with the force of the blow.
He thought he heard yelling, Dane and Trenton’s voices, but he could not be sure of anything.
His ears were ringing and the world was spinning recklessly as he tried to regain his footing.
Another blow caught him on the back of the head, not so severe as the blow to the face, but even with his helm protecting him he was nearly knocked unconscious.
The world dimmed and he saw stars threatening to swallow him up, but he fought against the rocking floor and rolled away from the source of the attack, trying desperately to regain his feet.
He had to get to his feet and face his accoster, although he knew exactly who it was.
“Stay down, de Russe,” Guy said behind him somewhere. “Stay down and I shall not strike you again.”
His instincts told him to get to his feet, but his common sense told him to do as he was told.
Dazed, he rolled onto his back and raised a shaking hand to his dented visor.
It took quite of bit of effort to raise the visor, for it was badly misshapen from the heavy hit, but eventually he was able to work it up.
Stoneley stood several feet away, smiling at his handiwork. “Consider that revenge for the beating you dealt me last year, de Russe. Now we’re even, although I doubt you lost any teeth.”
Gaston was grunting with his pain and shock. He raised a mailed finger to his bloodied nose. “No teeth, but you broke my nose. And you probably fracture my skull with that blow from behind.”
Guy laughed, a hollowed snort. “Good. And now, my lord, we come to the purpose of your visit. By what right do you invade my fortress?”
“It is my fortress,” Gaston said, propping himself up on an elbow so he was not flat on his back. “And I came to kill you!”
“Is that so? And why is that? Because I tried to reclaim my wife? Because I managed to take back what was rightfully mine?”
In spite of the order to stay down, Gaston pushed himself into a sitting position. The world was still swaying sickeningly. “The fortress is rightfully mine by order of our king. And by what right do you execute all of my soldiers?”
“They are my enemy and are to be shown no mercy.”
Gaston closed his eyes a moment, shaking off the ringing in his head. “Where are the boys?”
“Do not you even want to know where Remi is?” Guy asked, surprised he should ask for his son first.
“I know where she is,” Gaston said. “I asked where my boys are.”
Guy looked perplexed and faltered a moment. “You….you found Remi? Then I suppose she told you what happened.”
“She told me you sold her to whore at an inn,” Gaston replied, trying to control the furious quake in his voice. “Fortunately for her, you sold her to a knight who serves my ally. Not a very wise move, Stoneley.”
“A small flaw in a brilliant scheme,” Guy answered quietly.
“Actually, it matters not where she is for the moment. The point is, I will have her back. And you will deliver her.”
Gaston grinned, a humorless gesture. “Are you truly stupid or do you simply act the part?”
Guy grinned in response. Slowly, he turned away from Gaston and wandered over to the wall.
Gaston’s eyes followed him hawk-like, wondering what he was up to.
When Guy drew forth a dagger and examined it closely, Gaston waited for it to come hurling at him.
But no blade was forthcoming and Guy leaned casually against the wall.
Next to him was a rope, secured to an iron bracket.
The rope supported the massive chandelier that hung twenty feet above the foyer, but Gaston wasn’t paying any attention to that. Not until Guy pointed to the ceiling.
“And I say you will bring her to me, or your boys will meet a most unpleasant end,” he toyed with the rope, running the tip of the dagger along the fibers.
Gaston’s gaze jerked upward. Hanging from the chandelier were Dane and Trenton, their legs dangling fifteen feet above the hard stone floor. Although Gaston maintained his expression, inside he was absolutely ill. Without taking his eyes off the boys, he rose unsteadily to his feet.
“Damn, Stoneley, this goes beyond what even I thought you capable of,” he muttered, moving to stand directly underneath the helpless young men. Two pairs of frightened young eyes met his gaze.
“What say you, de Russe?” Guy asked casually. “The boys or Remi. The choice is yours.”
“You have given me no choice,” Gaston’s voice was as low as thunder. He took his eyes off Dane and Trenton long enough to turn to Guy. “Why in the hell do you want to make a trade? What good is Remington to you?”
“She is my guarantee that you will leave me in peace,” he replied, glancing up at the two boys.
“Actually, I was planning on using our young sons simply to chase you away from Mt. Holyoak. With Dane and Trenton as my captives, it would be guaranteed that you would leave me in peace. Henry, too, considering he will do what you ask. But ’twas your misfortune to inform me that you knew of Remington’s whereabouts.
Being a quick thinker, the game has changed. ”
“There is no game,” Gaston rumbled, wishing he could make it to Stoneley before he slit the ropes. His hands were shaking with want to strangle the man. “You cannot have her.”
“Then you would forfeit the lives of two young men? I find that particularly selfish.”
“Nay, Stoneley. Selfish is using your own son as a pawn in a game with high stakes. Selfish is threatening to kill your own flesh and blood.”
“Remington or the boys, de Russe. My patience wears thin.”
Gaston was caught. He knew Dane and Trenton were terrified listening to the exchange and he so wanted to reassure them, but he dare not look at the terrified faces. His mind was racing with possibilities, forming solutions, trying to gain time and the advantage.
“Lower them to the ground and we shall talk,” he said.
“No. There is nothing to talk about. Make your decision.”
“Do you truly think I would bring Remington to you? Good God, man, you must be out of your mind. After everything you have done to her and her sisters? ’Tis insanity to make such a request.”
“Then you will watch the boys die,” Guy said plainly.
“You would kill your own son?” Gaston was trying desperately to stall, all the while taking slow steps toward him. He prayed that with enough talk and enough distraction, he could edge close enough and reach Guy before the rope was completely severed.
But Guy was not easily distracted. He saw that Gaston was moving closer to him and he put the blade to the rope, sawing hard a couple of times and releasing several strands of fibers. The rope shifted and the boys screamed in terror, and Gaston froze.
“Cease!” Gaston roared.
“Your decision.”
Above him, the rope slipped again and the boys cried out. “No more, Stoneley, or I shall kill you where you stand!” Gaston bellowed, wondering wildly if he could catch the chandelier and save his sons.
“Tell me your decision.”