Dragonblade Trilogy - 02 - Island of Glass (2 page)

So his mood was consistently
clouded these days. Kenneth paid little attention to the men marching in
distress beside him; his focus was diverted to the countryside in search of
threats. Over the years, scanning his surroundings had become habit. Somehow
the landscape was always threatening, rain or shine, and he was not one to be
caught unaware. As he scrutinized the trees, a knight on a large bay steed rode
up beside him, lifting his visor to reveal brown eyes set within an unshaven,
dirty face.

“We’ll be seeing the turrets of
Kirk over the crest of this hill,” the knight commented. “I can already taste
the cool ale and a knuckle of beef.”

Kenneth’s his visor was down, but
not to shield is face from the rain. He simply didn’t like others looking at
him, studying his face, perhaps reading his thoughts.

“Had these lazy fools moved
faster, we would be seeing those turrets sooner,” he growled.

“The men are tired.”

“Then they are women. To be
exhausted after a small skirmish is an insult.”

The brown-eyed knight grinned.
Everett l’Breaux was a congenial man and hardly offended by Kenneth’s brusque
manner.

“If you’d lift that visor, I am
sure I would see exhaustion written all over your face as well,” he commented.
“There is no shame in that.”

Kenneth flipped up his
three-point visor, of the latest style for ease and protection.  Eyes of the
palest blue, like a sea of ice, gazed steadily at Everett. “All you will see on
my face is boredom.”

“You are a hard man, Ken.”

A massive gray stallion jogged up
between them, shoving Everett’s horse aside. Kenneth’s animal, muzzled after
the battle, snapped its teeth and swung its big head at the intrusion. Only
Kenneth’s phenomenal strength kept the beast at bay.

Lucius de Cor was the captain of
Wrexham’s army. He was an older man that had seen many battles for a succession
of English kings. Close to retirement, he was nonetheless fully in charge of
the men under his command. But he looked to Kenneth, his second, to make sure
his orders were enforced. St. Héver was the only man in the Corp who inspired
that kind of fear and respect. Only an idiot would argue with him.

“Have the men pick up the pace,
Ken,” he ordered. “I want to be cleaned and seated by sup.”

Kenneth moved into action before
the command left Lucius’ lips.  He spurred his beast back along the lines of
marching men. His armored arm was lifted, commands bellowing from his throat.
Immediately, the block of three hundred men picked up into a steady trot.
Somewhere in the back of the lines, a few of the men seemed to be exchanging an
inordinate amount of conversation. Kenneth spurred his charger around the rear
of the column and came upon them.

“What goes on?” he demanded.

When St. Héver demanded, men
listened. These soldiers were not Kenneth’s retainers; they belonged to another
knight who had stayed behind at Kirk, Sir Reid de Bowland. But they responded
with more attention to Kenneth than they would have to their own liege.

“A soldier’s disagreement,
m’lord,” one man replied. “We didn’t mean to disrupt the march.”

Kenneth’s gaze was so piercing it
could have cut steel. “What kind of disagreement?”

The two men arguing looked at
each other, fearful to speak.  The second man finally spoke. “I lost my
crossbow on the slopes of Dinas Bran Castle, my lord,” he said. “Malf found it
and will not give it back.”

“So he has stolen from you.”

Malf’s eyes widened. “No, my
lord, I didn’t steal it.”

“Then return it to him.”

“But this isn’t his weapon,” the
soldier was almost pleading, afraid of what was coming. “I know of Sheen’s
weapon. This is not it.”

Kenneth continued to look between
the two men, a heavy silence filling the air. By this time, Lucius had come
upon them.

“What is the issue, St. Héver?”
he demanded.

“Sheen lost his weapon on the
slopes and tells me that Malf found it. Malf insists it is not the lost weapon
but another.”

Lucius frowned impatiently.
“There is no time for this foolery. Perhaps you both need to be reminded on the
value of weapons and camaraderie.” He glanced at Kenneth. “Ten lashes each when
we return. Perhaps next time, Sheen will be more careful about his weapon and
Malf will be more apt to share his found one if he sees that his comrade has
none.”

It was swift justice designed to
send a message to all of the soldiers. Kenneth nodded, knowing it was expected
that he would deliver the blows. That was his position, as second in command of
the army. He followed Lucius back to the front of the column just as they
crested the hill.

Kirk loomed ahead, a massive
fortress with her green, gold and scarlet Wrexham banners waving in the wind.
But something else caught their attention: a lone figure moving off of the road
and into the trees. It was at some distance, a black little spot with legs.
Kenneth focused in on it, as did Lucius and Everett. As they drew closer, it
appeared to be a figure on a small palfrey or donkey. The little beast’s legs
were moving furiously, making haste for the shelter of the forest.

Lucius frowned. “Go see what that
is,” he told Kenneth.

Kenneth spurred his unruly animal
into a gallop. He knew it would be no time before he overtook the figure on the
palfrey. He entered the border of trees nearly the same time as the figure did.

“Halt,” he ordered.

The figure kept going. Kenneth
rode up beside it and gave a shove to the shoulder, sending it tumbling to the
wet ground. He heard a high-pitched cry, indicating to him that the figure was
a woman. As he brought his horse around, the lady came to her feet and took off
through the bramble at a dead run.

Kenneth spurred his charger after
her. His prevailing emotion was irritation; the woman was small, dodging
through some bushes that he couldn’t get through on his big horse. A savage
game of cat and mouse was afoot as the two of them plowed deeper into the
forest.

He followed her, closer at some
times, further away at others.  She was fast and she was clever. The more she
ran, the angrier he became. At one point, he fell in directly behind her and
she ducked into a cluster of close-knit trees. He should have known better; he
was too close and going too fast when she led him through some heavy branches.
Unable to respond fast enough, a big branch caught him and knocked him off his
charger.

Rising from a supine position in
full armor was no easy task, but Kenneth managed to do so quite ably. Aggravated,
he suspected the woman was somewhere out the trees, well ahead of him and well
rid of him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone, especially a woman, had
bested him. In fact, there had never been a time to his recollection. His anger
grew, but more at himself. As he considered which direction to take, something
heavy struck him on the back of the head.

The blow pitched him forward onto
his knees. Dazed but not senseless, he rolled onto his back, away from the
follow up strike he knew was coming. It also brought him face to face with his
attacker and, for a moment, he could not believe his eyes. The woman he had
chased all over Creation had a large piece of wood in her hand, swinging it at
him with the intent to kill him.

But she made a mistake that would
cost her. She was too close as she came in for another hit. Kenneth lashed out
with a massive leg and took her feet out from under her, reaching out to disarm
her as she fell. He tossed the wood far off into the trees, pinning the woman
to the ground in the same motion. She was small and no match for his strength.

“Get off me!” she fought and
grunted. “Let me go!”

Kenneth’s vision was still
muddled from the blow, but it wasn’t so muddled that he couldn’t see what lay
beneath him. A woman with the most astoundingly beautiful face he had ever seen
lay there, her sea-colored eyes blazing and her rich brown hair spread over the
ground like angel’s wings. Before he could utter a word, she thrust her head
forward and smashed him in the nose with the top of her head. It was a brutal
move. Blood spurted but he didn’t let go; he let it drip down onto her soft
white neck.

“Oh!” she shrieked. ”You are
bleeding on me!”

“That is your misfortune.”

She stopped squirming and glared
at him. “If you do not release me, I swear I shall do more than bloody your
nose. I shall wring your neck!”

He had no idea why that statement
made him want to smile. It was a struggle not to react. He leapt off of her
with the agility of a cat and grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her up with him
in the same motion. “I would sincerely like to see you try,” he said.

 The woman twisted and pulled.
“Let me go, you brute.”

“What is your name?”

She pounded at the hand that held
her. “That is none of your business!”

“I beg to differ.”

She flew at him, all fists and
feet, but he caught her, turned her around, and trapped her against him. It was
dangerous to have her head near his face where she might head-butt him again.
As it was, the blood from his nose was dripping down onto her hair. She struggled
ferociously as he leaned down.

“Now,” he growled in her ear.
“You will tell me who you are.”

“Never!”

He tightened his grip, squeezing
the air from her. “Name, woman.”

“N-no!”

His response was to pick her up,
legs dangling, and carry her in the direction of his charger. The muzzled
animal was attempting to graze a patch of wet grass several feet away. The
woman kicked and struggled. As he passed by a birch tree, she thrust her legs
out, kicked off against the tree, and sent him off balance. Kenneth recovered
and made a mental note not to get close to any more trees.

They were at the horse and
Kenneth was trying to decide how, exactly, he could maintain his hold on her
and mount the horse at the same time. Pounding thunder in the distance signaled
caught his attention.

He turned to see Everett
approach. The knight’s brown eyes widened when he saw the woman, the blood.
“Jesus,” he breathed, focused on the struggling woman. “Lady Aubrielle.…”

Somewhere in the back of
Kenneth’s mind, the name sounded familiar. Everett dismounted his steed.

“Lady Aubrielle, are you all
right?” he asked.

Kenneth wasn’t sure what to say.
But he knew he was not going to release the woman lest she attack him again.
“You know this wildcat?” he asked Everett.

Everett looked rather pale. “I
have forgotten you’ve only been at Kirk a couple of years,” he said. “You’ve
not yet met the earl’s niece, the Lady Aubrielle Grace di Witney.”

The information sank in.
The
earl’s niece
. Kenneth released his grip and, true to his fear, the lady swung
around with a fist. He put his hand up, catching her wrist before she could
strike his face. They glared at each other, each one completely unwilling to
bend to the other.

“Brute,” she hissed at him.
“Fiend!”

Everett was making a fool out of
himself in his effort to ease the situation. “Can I assist you, my lady? What
are you doing out on the open road?”

“That is none of your affair,
Everett l’Breaux,” she snapped. “Give me your horse so that I may be on my
way.”

Everett shook his head. “Alas, I
cannot, my lady. My horse responds only to me. He is far too much for you to
handle.”

The woman seemed to back off
somewhat, but only by necessity. Kenneth could see it was temporary; she was
simply re-thinking her strategy.
Aubrielle Grace di Witney
. He had heard
the name before, several times. As Everett mentioned, however, he had never
seen the earl’s only niece. He knew that her father, the earl’s brother-in-law,
had passed away about the time Kenneth had come into the earl’s service and it
was up to the earl to help manage his widowed sister’s estates.  Other than
that, he knew little about her. He’d certainly never heard she was such a
spitfire.

He would not take his eyes from
her, but there was more to it than the fear that another fist would come flying
at him. As he had observed before, she was unquestionably beautiful; her wide
sea-colored eyes and long lashes were set against a sweet oval face of
porcelain skin and rosebud lips. Her dark hair fell straight and silken to her
waist.  When she reached up to smooth the strands in her face and tuck them
back, he could see that her delicate little ears stuck out ever so slightly. In
truth, it was a delightful feature. He could see nothing unappealing about the
woman other than the fact that she behaved like a wild animal.

“Then I shall find my mount and
be on my way,” she was trying desperately to stay in control of the situation.

Everett and Kenneth looked at
each other.

“I am afraid we cannot allow you
to go,” Everett was reluctant to deny her but sensibilities dictated he should.
“Perhaps we should return to Kirk and see about procuring you an escort for
your journey.”