Conquering the Dark Axe (28 page)

A memory came back to him. The familiar dark
silhouette he’d believed he’d dreamt before he had succumbed to the darkness on
the field. He opened his eye.

The jailer crouched, cowering in fear at the man's
feet from the heavy blow he'd just received as he babbled on about truth. The
tall man beside him moved to cuff him again when another voice called out.

"The bastard is awake."

Rourke stopped breathing. It couldn’t be!

The jailer's wide eyes lifted and his short and
gnarled arm that he could barely lift, pointed in Rourke’s direction. "I
told you, sire, I speak truth. His eyes are open."

The tall man stepped forward and to the side to let
the other man that had spoken come pass.

"You mean eye, fool." The large nobleman
dressed in too fancy an outfit to be wearing down in the filthy dungeon stepped
to Rourke.

Fisting a hand in Rourke’s long hair, the nobleman
yanked hard and pulled Rourke’s neck back and to the side. Hate dripped from
his venomous hiss, “Hello, Dark Axe."

Rourke stared murder at both men.

Two enemies.

One that he’d seen cut down and left for dead, but
obviously not dead enough. The scar was missing from the left side of his face,
but the face was one he was familiar with all the same.

Raven Renald.

The other, holding his hair and who's fetid breath
washed over his face...

Jacqueline's father.

THIRTY-FOUR

The years had not been kind to the aging warrior.
Lord Richard Hartley looked well beyond his years and the wooden shaft he
leaned his burgeoning weight upon only made it worse.  White hair hung
long and past his frail shoulders, a thick matching moustache and beard covered
his wrinkled face. The large mass around his waist slowed his gait. ‘Twas hard
to believe, this great man he’d once admired had let hatred and revenge run him
to rot. In that moment, Rourke realized he would not let the same happen to
him. It was time to let go of the guilt and blame he’d carried all these years
over the loss of Jacqueline. No matter what he did, neither he nor her father
could bring her life back and he told the man thus.

“No one is to blame for what she did. It was her
choice, Richard.”

Rourke saw it coming. The thick butt of the shaft
struck him in the cheek. His teeth rattled from the blow; still he kept his
eyes on Richard. The man’s face ran even redder, mottled with his grief and
anger.

Spittle shot from his mouth as he spat, “Shut up
you, filthy Norman scum! How dare you speak ill against my daughter? She was my
life! She had my blood running through her veins. She was not weak, but strong
and you robbed her of her life as you robbed me! She was my daughter!”

Rourke knew there was naught more he could say to
the man. The look in Richard’s eyes was one crazed beyond retrieving. As it
were the man could barely form a word without visibly shaking and practically
losing breath on each word.

“Now I have the upper hand,” Richard was wheezing
harder now and wiped at his drooling mouth with a fine piece of lace cloth he
withdrew from his breast pocket. “William’s prized long arm of destruction into
Saxon territory now chained to my wall like the dog and filth he is. I
never
wanted my daughter shackled to you. We, proud Saxon barons, had no choice but
to do what that bastard Norman duke wanted. I am going to make you pay for each
year I suffered the loss of my only child. And I do plan to enjoy every bloody
moment.”

Rourke’s jaw clenched in anger. William had formed
some friendships with a few Saxon nobles during Edward the Confessor’s rule,
most of which were very fragile to begin with. Not only because of the king's
favor upon the duke, but the Saxon lords had done so out of fear and
intimidation. After William had taken the throne, some of these same lords had
tucked tail and run off. The ones that had not had still turned their backs on
him when he’d needed them most. Like the filth in front of him now, Rourke
snarled with disgust.

“My head is clear and I will not go as easily as you
think.” Rourke eyed him and Raven with dead calm, taunting them. “You know well
who my teacher was. ‘Tis no secret. He stands right beside you. Do you want to
see how well he trained me, Richard?”

“But you are without your blade!”  Richard
choked on a weak incredulous laugh as did his men, except Raven.

“I don't need my blade to demonstrate for you.
Release my hands and you shall see firsthand that they are capable of providing
you with the same end result. A bit messier, but I assure you, 'tis all the
same in the end. Is that not so, Raven?”

Rourke’s words sent another visible tremor through
Richard and the old man raised the staff again high above his head. Rourke did
not flinch when the blow came this time.

Richard howled in pain at the movement and yelled,
“Fool! I would kill you now had I no need to see you suffer and bleed slowly
whilst I torture each and every one of your men. Raven! Which arm is it?”

"I’ve seen him use both.” came Raven’s shrug of
shoulders and aloof reply.

"But you used your left," Richard was
frowning.

"Aye. However he was a most studious and apt
pupil.” Raven’s eyes met his and Rourke wanted to kill the devil where he
stood.

"'Tis the mark of the devil’s hand is what it
is, sire!" the jailer's outcry drew stares his way as he backed away
crossing himself. Raven shot the jailer such a look of disgust it was a good
thing the man had the sense to back away out of the reach of another heavy
blow.

"Your superstitions do not belong here. Speak
of such again and I will show you what the true mark of the devil is.” Raven’s
words came slowly and his hands went to the small axes he had strapped to his
waist. “Anyone else wish to express their religious beliefs?”

All in the room grew quiet and Rourke seethed when
Raven turned back to him and winked.  Richard foamed at the mouth having
caught the action and turned an icy glare on Raven.

"We are not here for your playacting and
reminiscing, Raven. Get on with it. He is here because of my beautiful
Jacqueline and me.”

"Nay, Richard. He is here because of me.
Without my help you'd still be locked away in some stink hole with that
vengeance rotting in your gut.”

"Why you ungrateful whelp!" Richard
stumbled toward Raven with the shaft raised.

"Ah, ah ahh, old man. You don't want to get
yourself all riled before the games begin. We agreed-"

"I agreed to nothing! You were paid handsomely
for your part in this." Richard lowered the shaft.

"Aye. True is that. I was indeed. However,
there's been a change in plans. Your ruthless days are over, you old bitter
fool.” Raven chuckled as he slowly pulled off his gloves.

Rourke watched the two men argue amongst themselves.
Fools! Mad the both of them. 

The argument was soon interrupted by a loud keening
wail and sudden gasp. The sound came from Richard. Rourke watched the old man
clutch at his chest, the shaft  dropped to the ground as he stumbled
backwards with a  look of surprise and horror etched upon his weathered
face. The jailer shrieked and jumped out of the way. Raven did not help. He
looked at the falling Richard with an expression of grim satisfaction upon his
face when the man fell. His eyes returned once again to Rourke.

“Hmm, seems you have yet again robbed another member
of the Hartley family of their breath, Dark Axe.” Raven’s boot came down hard
on the old man’s chest and held him down.

Rourke said nothing as he watched Richard twitch and
jerk on the ground, a bit of foam bubbled from his mouth as the last breath
rattled from the old warrior’s body.

Raven moved his foot away. “Poison does the trick
every time. No one tells me what to do. I was sick and tired of his slowness in
getting rid of you. Now, to speed things along. Take the old man’s carcass out
of here.”  Raven instructed the guards as he stepped over the body and
reached out to grip a fistful of Rourke’s hair.  “Why Dark Axe, you look
as if you’ve seen a ghost. I imagine you might be wondering how about now,
hmm?” he threw his dark head back with a deep chortle and released his hold on
him.  Raven strutted in front of him with his hands clasped behind his
back. "Had you or my brother bothered to climb down and check for a body,
you would have seen I’d fallen upon a ledge that opened to a cave."

His elaborate retelling grated on Rourke's nerves
and his anger built. Rourke stared at him hard and wished he'd done so. Raven
must have known his thoughts for he reached out with the back of his hand and
caught a good hit against his mouth. Rourke tasted blood in his mouth and Raven
turned from his icy glare first.

"Ever the bold and disobedient one. I will have
your full attention! The nights and days I spent hiding in that cold, dark and
wet place, plotting my revenge until I believed it was safe enough to escape
were murder. I ask you, something like that cannot be good for one’s soul,
right? Had it not been for my brother’s wife nursing me back to health, your
goal to see me dead would have come true.”

"What sentence given to you, Raven, you brought
upon yourself. ‘Twas you that turned your back on William.”

Raven let out a shout, "Aargh! Had he not
turned his first on me, 'twould not have happened!”

"William was good to you. He never turned any
of us in that group away.”

Rourke remained still when Raven swiftly brought his
face level with his own. Pain and hatred screamed from those crazed and
startling blue eyes.

"Lies! He did it twice. He forgave me not when
I tried to gut you for your lack of loyalty to me. I created you, his precious
weapon. Then, aye, again…when he chose my
brother
over me."

Rourke said nothing. Raven could and never would be
the proud man Darc had grown into. Even back then, the difference between the
two brothers had been noticeable and Raven had shown signs then of his brain
unraveling long before his dark days in that cave.

"Live the life of a libertine, pay the price of
one,” Rourke spoke coldly.

"Heathen filth!" Raven's rage erupted and
he struck him again. Rourke spat the blood his action had drawn into his face
and couldn’t help but smile when Raven shrieked like a madman and danced away
from him wiping frantically at his face. William had chosen well when he'd
chosen Darc over his crazed brother.

"Bastard!" Raven howled. “Your time has
come for the table. I will be back, friend. I needs retrieve a special tool to
complete the job I was so rudely interrupted doing many years ago.”

Raven’s evil laughter filled the chamber as he
exited. Rourke gave into his fury and even though the chains held him tight, he
fought like a madman, bleeding from each extremity. The only thought in his
head was to kill Raven before he’d let that devil cut him again.

Chilly nights had turned into frosty days and Alexa
had grown sick with each passing one that brought no news of Rourke. Over and
over the memories of their last night together resurfaced and the pain of the
discord between them was now a forgotten memory.  Goran had returned yet
again just yester eve empty handed. Darc Renald had yet to return. But he'd
sent a messenger back with word of his search and word from William to let him
know when and if they found his Dark Axe alive or dead.  

Alexa wrung her hands with worry over the possible
danger Rourke might be in.

Goran had alluded briefly to the fact he may have
been captured and tried to keep assurances up that he still lived, but his grim
expression told Alexa otherwise. She would keep the faith even if others did
not.

She knew Rourke still lived for she felt it in her
heart. If he’d taken his last breath, she told herself she would have
known. 

Wouldn’t she?

Aye, for her own heart would cease to beat.

Tears burned the back of her lids and she looked out
the open archway once again. She stood in the room off the hall because it gave
a better view of the great doors.

She ignored the guard watching her. All eyes had
been on her every move these past few days.  Had she wanted to escape to
search for Rourke, his guards truly could not have stopped her. She could
escape them if she chose.

But for what?

She did not know where he was, let alone where to
look any more than Goran and Darc Renald did.

A Norman servant that had arrived with her husband’s
caravan entered the room. Margaret, the name came to Alexa. She was pleasant
enough, quiet and worked hard. Alexa spent most of her days till darkness fell
in this room. 

Margaret tried hard to get her to eat, drink and
draw her into conversation but Alexa did neither.

When not in the room, she paced about the manor or
strolled outside in the cold. Rourke’s men dogged her every step. Aye, the
number of men that guarded her had increased tenfold since Goran’s last return.
She barely spoke to him but she was aware of his ever watchful and concerned
gaze following her too, wherever she went.  But she said nothing of it.