Ria Cantrell - Celtic Storm 03 (39 page)

Rhianna mustered up her courage, although she felt shame rise within her as she cast off her rent garment and slid the rough cloth over her head. Aaron did not turn away, and in fact, he fairly drooled as he caught sight of her flesh. He held out a black cloak with a hood and he put it upon her shoulders. His fingers raised the hood around her head and he watched as her eyes smoldered in restrained anger.  He positioned her in the center of the room where the light of the moon cast a beam in the middle of the floor. He poured salt darkened with the blood of his victims around her. He mumbled inaudible incantations and he lit black candles at five points around the circle. Despite the fear Rhianna felt rising inside of her, she called upon the Light and Love of those who had cared for her throughout her life. She begged the Guardians to stand with her and protect her from what she was about to do. She silently uttered the Pater Noster to God, Himself to deliver her from this terrible fate.

She held out her arms as if she was invoking the dark forces. She wanted him to think she was embracing the evil magic. With eyes half closed, she observed his reaction through lowered lashes. It was working. He looked satisfied with her supplications. She pulled the memories of her mother and all she had been taught by her and by Andarra. Their magic had been strong, too, but they never used it for anything that was not light. Rhianna could not let fear take root as he called forth his darkness. She did not flinch when he named every demon she had ever heard about and a few she had not known. She closed her eyes against it and focused on countering his babbling with positive Light and Energy. She drew on the love that had blossomed in her heart for her family, her brother, the villagers she had loved and cherished, the babe within her, and most of all, the love she had found when she loved Erik. Rhianna could feel the Light growing within her and radiating out from her fingertips. She may be standing in a dark circle, but she was surrounded by Light. She was surrounded by Love. She remembered Andarra’s words and she nearly heard the woman standing beside her whispering, “Do not doubt Erik’s love. It is steadfast. This imposter is a liar. Erik has come to save you.”

Rhianna did not want to open her eyes, lest she lose hold of the force and power of Love lifting her. She could not hear the murmurs of Aaron now. She called upon the power of those who had gone before her. She felt her mother’s love surrounding her. She felt the kind and gentle strength of her father. Their parents were with her, too. Yes, God had heard her prayers and sent the angels of her past to aid her this terrible night. The more she felt the supremacy of the Light, the easier it was for her to draw on it. She would not fall. The beast could not call any demons against her to aid him.

She opened her eyes and saw the white light that was so bright, it threatened to burn her eyes. It seemed to extend like a protective sphere around her. The black candles had been snuffed out and the blood-salt circle was scattered and broken. Rhianna would not drop her hands, lest she break her connection with those who protected her. She saw a look of horror on Aaron’s disfigured face. He seemed wracked with pain, though his eye never left her. He gripped at his privates as if he had been emasculated in the most horrible way and he fairly wailed in agony. That was not her doing, she was certain, but she would not let him know that. It would seem his black magic had backfired against him…or perhaps it was the work of the Guardians against him; Rhianna knew not.

When at last she felt she could lower her arms, Rhianna knew that no matter what befell her, the love would always exist and no darkness would harm her. As the bright light grew dimmer around her she said, “You will never have me. I will never bend to your darkness and will.”

Her voice sounded strange in her own ears. It all seemed like she was moving through a dream.

“Guards,” he called. His voice grated and appeared strangled in his throat. “Take this witch to the pyre.”

~Chapter Forty-Eight~

Erik had given the orders and with a nod of his head, the crossbowmen aimed at their marks. They had positioned themselves on the rise before the tree line. When his hand fell, the pointed missiles flew, zipping across the sky like lethal comets. Some had been lit and their fiery tails beckoned a warning before they landed in their targets. Two men cried out and plummeted to the rocks below. Erik knew that he had only seconds to set forth the next wave and so he gave the go ahead for the archers to cast their arrows ahead of them. While some men on the battlements fell, Erik was not a fool to think that they would idly stand by. Now the alarm had been sounded and arrows were returned. Erik’s men were at an advantage in that they could take cover in the trees and stay mostly hidden, while the moon cast shadows of the men in their respective posts along the castle’s crumbling walls.

From Erik’s vantage point, his eye was drawn to the eastern wall of the keep, where the river glinted beneath the pale yellow moon. It was mostly dark but as he scanned that section he witnessed a growing light coming from one of the chambers in the tower near the outer wall. The light seemed to glow from within, like that of a consuming fire, but there was something different about it. Erik had seen plenty of fires in his eight and twenty years, but this light was not caused by flames. He could not pull his eyes away as the illumination seemed to grow ever brighter and then abruptly, it darkened again.
She’s in there
. That was something his beautiful little sorceress had caused, Erik was certain. Turning to Randall, Erik saw that he too had his eyes fixed where the strange phenomenon had occurred. Erik said, “She’s there. That had to be because of her.”

“Aye, I suspect you are right.”

“What part of the castle is that, Randall?”

Swallowing the lump of stone that had formed in his throat he said, “Jasper’s quarters.”

Anger flared in the cold blue depths of Erik’s eyes and he fought to contain the fury that Randall’s answer brought about.
That monster had his wife closed in his chambers!
It was all Erik could do to not leap down the hillside and force his way inside the castle. As his eyes again adjusted to the strange shapes cast by the shadows in the moonlight, Erik’s gaze rested upon an odd elongated image that seemed to dance upon the waters beneath it.

“What the hell…is…that?”

But as he said the words, the answer registered in Erik’s mind. No, he must be mistaken, so he squinted and watched as the moon aided in his discernment of what he was actually looking at.

“Bloody hell,” he cursed. “Randall is that what I think it is?”

Randall followed Erik’s hand, which pointed to the spot he had spied. Both Randall and Erik blurted out, “Pyre!” in unison.

Erik felt panic burble up inside of him and ice ran through his veins at the discovery.

“Holy Mother of God, he is going to burn her alive.”

Randall tried to offer words of comfort to Erik, saying, “We do not know he has set that up for her.”

“Don’t we? He wanted her and when she does not do his bidding, he is going to burn her at the stake. Randall, I cannot wait for the forces to secure our entry. I have to get to her now.”

“You cannot. The only way to that spot is across the river, else you should have to go in the front door and there is little chance of that.”

“I would swim the bloody river if I have to. I am not afraid to do just that.”

“Think for a moment. If you were to swim, you would have to leave your sword and bow behind. What will you fight with once you reach the shore? You will be as good as dead if you land unarmed.”

“Then it is through the gates, Randall. I have to try. This has gone from dangerous to catastrophic. Look, I cannot fail her again. If I die, then I die saving her. I would die happily to know she is safe. Please do not try to stop me.”

Despite the severity of the situation, a slow smile formed across his mouth and Randall said, “Oh I have no intention of stopping you. As a matter of fact, where you go, brother, so do I.”

“I go as well, Sir Erik.” It was Tristan and Erik nodded, taking a few more men with him. He had several of the archers and crossbowmen hang back to cover them as they prepared to dash past the copse of tree cover to force entry into the bowels of hell. The bowmen were prepared to set as many arrows flying as they could to prevent even one of their men from falling to Morcar.

Erik and the men dodged the boiling pitch that was being poured over the parapets. Their foes’ use in this tactic gave Erik and his men the space needed to advance. Had they concentrated their efforts on their archers, Erik was not certain he would have made it across the dale without being hit. Instead, they had filled the kettles with the molten pitch and Erik and his trained warriors evaded the cascading pots of death efficiently.

Erik counted on the decay of Morcar to also work to his advantage. The portcullis was not made of iron, but of splintering wood and so with a collective effort of strong bodies and shields, the men were able to break through and overrun the bailey. A handful of guards charged them. Swords swung and hit their marks repeatedly. While Erik’s men took on those engaged in the fight, he, Randall and Drew charged through the keep to find Rhianna. Randall pointed the way that led toward the eastern tower, where Aaron Jasper’s personal quarters were believed to be. As they approached the tower, Randall gave way to Erik, but hung directly behind him. Erik took the moldering stone steps two at a time. He kept his sword pointed in front of him, prepared to skewer anyone who tried to stop him. When he got to the top of the tower, there was no one in the apartments.

Erik called, “Jasper, show yourself. Face me and give me back what is mine.”

Instead of an answer, he heard the maniacal laughter seeming to come from beneath him. Leaning over the parapet, Erik saw two large men dragging Rhianna toward the dreaded stake. Cursing, he turned and he said, “They have taken her to the stake. Randall, how do we get toward the river?”

Shrugging, Randall was at a loss. He had not been to that part of the keep and even if he had, he would not have been able to remember it. Drew called, “Look, behind the tapestry…there is movement. I bet there is a staircase leading down toward the river’s edge.”

Erik pushed the tattered tapestry to the side and sure enough there was a passageway, but it was unlit and the blackness seemed to swallow any light as soon as they stepped into it. There could be any untold traps lying in wait for them, but Erik could not ponder that threat now. Already, the pyre was smoldering, as the lesser twigs and kindling had been lit. They must have been getting closer because he could smell the acrid smoke drawing them through the inky dark of the dank passage. Their progress was impeded only because the men knew not where steps were and they could ill afford to go hurtling to the bottom. Once they had reached the bottom, they stood in a darkened chamber. They were no closer to the river than when they had been in the tower. What now? Erik felt his way along the walls and he found a door hidden behind another tapestry. He pushed with all his might but it did not budge. It was almost as if something had been pressed against it so it could not open.

Erik needed to keep a clear head. He took a deep breath. He could see smoke curling under the door. Grabbing a torch from the corridor, he had to find another way out toward the bank of the river. Erik tried again to crash the door open, but he failed. He turned and faced Randall and Drew and he said, “It is blocked. We have to find another way.”

“This way, Erik, I think if we follow the smoke, it will lead us out.”

The three men entered a murky hallway that was a combination of gloom and smoke. Drew took the torch and held it up so that the other two men could see ahead of them. The keep was like a maze as it was riddled with false stairwells and dead ends. After taking a turn down a narrow entranceway, they came to the end only to find a small shuttered window that looked down onto a derelict dock below them. A dock would be near the riverside. Erik swung up onto the slim sill and using his powerful legs, he kicked the shutters off their hinges. He gaged the distance to the ground below and decided he would be able to land the jump. Even if he could not, he knew he had to try. Securing his sword in its scabbard across his back, he pushed himself free of the stone cut out for the primitive window.

As he dropped to the ground below, Erik pulled his sword from its sheath and he swung it in a deadly dance. The first two men who tried to stop him were cut down with one blow. Randall jumped down after him and he was followed by Drew. The bank was slick from the recent rains and the wet gravel crunched under their boots.

The odor of burning greenwood clawed at the back of Erik’s throat. It formed a smoke screen that shielded Rhianna from his view, but he fought his way through it to get to her. The scaffold was raised above him and there were men guarding it, with swords and axes ready to battle him. Erik almost faltered as he heard Rhianna cry out in pain. It was a sound he’d not soon forget. She had already been tied to the stake and the flames were lapping at her bared feet.

“Dear God,” he murmured. Erik’s head whipped around at the sound of maniacal laughter again and he saw the big grotesque man watching as the fire was catching the higher pieces of wood. Tongues of orange blazed and snapped; crackling as they licked ever closer to the hem of the sack that had been tied around Rhianna’s waist. She twisted in agony and terror and she screamed. Randall called, “You get to Rhianna. This filth is mine.”