Chapter Thirty-Seven #5
Gaston took a step toward her, his initial shock turning into fascination. She continued to smile at him and he could see every detail on her face, Remington’s eyes, Jasmine’s nose. There was no light, no aura. Had he reached out to touch her, he would have sworn he would have grasped flesh.
“Rory?” he said timidly.
She did not answer him but continued to look at him gently.
He heard sounds in the tower and briefly turned to look, but his attention riveted back to the apparition in front of him.
As helpless as she had been all these years against Guy Stoneley, she had contributed heavily to the final battle to do away with his evil once and for all.
“Thank you,” Gaston whispered.
He ducked inside the tower. Guy was two stories above him rushing for the room in which Charles, Dane and Trenton were held. Gaston eyed the man a moment before mounting the stairs, knowing there was nowhere for Guy to go once he reached the top. His pace slowed dramatically as he climbed.
Guy saw Gaston below him as he reached the door to the tower. Laying into the latch heavily, he was shocked to find it bolted from the inside. Angered and panicked, he rattled it loudly.
“Who’s in here?” he yelled. “Open the damn door.”
There was no response forthcoming. Again, he rattled the latch so heavily that he cut his palms on the iron handle.
He kicked at the door, all the while hearing Gaston’s footsteps drawing closer and closer.
Anxiety cut at him; unless he was planning to jump or unless he found a weapon, quickly, he was as good a dead. De Russe was closing in on him.
He began to kick at the door as if he could force it open.
He punched at it, driving his fists against the oak as he did when he beat his wife.
The Dark One was on the landing below him and Guy could feel the weight of his stare, knowing that when he turned to face him that he would only read death in his eyes.
But he couldn’t help himself from peering over his shoulder.
De Russe was approaching him with the look of the Grim Reaper, his massive sword gleaming in the weak light.
Panic shot through Guy and he pounded on the door one last time, as if that would make any difference.
As if somehow fate would step in and open it.
But the door remained closed. Guy, hysterical with anxiety, knew he was breathing his last. As a final show of bravery, or mayhap cowardice, he turned to face the Dark One.
Smoky orbs met with ice blue. Gaston paused six steps down from Guy, staring at his quarry with open contempt. There was something he wanted to say before he gutted the man.
“What I do now, I do on behalf of Remi and Rory, Jasmine and Skye. Women you tortured for nine long years. When I drive my blade into your gut, it will be small compensation for those years you stole from them, but it’s the least I can do.
Their comfort will have to come from the fact that you will burn in the sulfur pits for all eternity,” he was calm and controlled as he raised his blade.
“But most of all, I do this for Remington.”
Guy was ashen as he listened to the speech. His mouth worked as he formed a reply when the tower door flew open.
“My lord! Your weapon!” Charles cried.
Guy whirled around and caught the dull blade. Glee and hope flooded him and he crowed with the thrill of a second chance. In a flash, he spun around to Gaston and held high the blade.
“Pretty speech, de Russe!” he exclaimed. “Now let us see who indeed is going to burn in the sulfur pits of hell.”
Gaston was stunned at Charles’ action, betrayal at the deepest level. Horrified, he wondered if Charles had not killed Dane and Trenton and if all along he was allied with Guy. But he couldn’t linger on that thought now, not with an imminent attack on his hands.
Guy’s sword came up and Gaston moved into a defensive position, at a distinct disadvantage on the stairs as he was. But he would have to compensate somehow. All that mattered now was that Guy bore a weapon and he did not relish a sword battle in the steep confines of the tower.
He waited for the down parry. And waited. Guy still held the sword aloft, but there was a strange look to his eye. The triumphant smile on his face was slowly turning into a grimace of horror and Gaston eyed him with deep curiosity. Why did he not strike?
Guy was listing dangerously to the right, sword still aloft, face still glazed with a grimacing expression.
He continued to lean, to fall, and Gaston watched as Guy toppled over the top landing and disappeared into empty space.
Shocked, Gaston peered over the side of the stairs and watched incredulously as Guy fell five stories to his death below.
Guy perished in a loud thud of bone against stone, instead of the soft hiss of steel through flesh.
Gaston was stunned. He continued to peer down into the dark depths of the tower as if he were unable to comprehend what had happened. Guy was dead, but he had not killed him. Somehow, he had fallen to his death. Astonished, Gaston turned his gaze to Charles, still standing in the open tower door.
Only Charles was not alone. Dane and Trenton were squinting into the bowels of the tower as well.
“What in the hell happened?” Gaston managed to choke.
The three boys looked at him and Charles smiled. From his side, he raised his arm and clutched within his fist was a small, bloodied blade that looked suspiciously like a child’s sword. It took Gaston a moment to realize it was Arik’s sword.
“I killed him,” Charles said. “With this.”
Gaston was literally white with shock and disbelief. “You…you killed him?”
Charles nodded. “Dane wanted to, but I insisted that he let me do it,” he said, afraid that his hero was not pleased. “I did not think it right that he kill his father, and this is not Trenton’s fight. It was only logical that I do it.”
Gaston gazed back down into the dark depths one last time, the clarity of the situation dawning on him. “You knew he would turn to you when you opened the door, thwarting any striking him from behind. So you tossed him the sword to distract him and when he turned to attack me….”
“Charles jammed Arik’s sword right into his back,” Dane finished for his father. “It was my plan.”
Gaston couldn’t decide if he felt more like vomiting or fainting. He opted for neither and smiled weakly at his son. “A brilliant strategy, Dane. I’d expect no less. But where did you find Arik’s sword?”
“I gave it to Charles when I left for Oxford,” Dane replied. “He kept it in the tower and practiced with it when Roald and the other knights went to bed.”
Gaston sank back against the tower wall, wiping at his sweaty, bloody head.
He was completely dazed, but not senseless.
The boys watched him eagerly as he composed himself as best he was able and then mounted the rest of the stairs towards them.
They were expecting praise, or a spanking, but instead Gaston did the unexpected.
He pulled them all into a giant bear hug and wept.