Page 48

She rushed after him, dashing up the corner stair on slippered feet.
Over the bare hills and through the Great Forest galloped a seemingly endless stream of soldiers. The portcullis had been raised for the nobles and peasants and townsfolk to enter the bailey and witness the executions, and the encroaching armies crashed across the drawbridge in a thundering charge that echoed through the hills and mountains surrounding the south end of the kingdom.
Some troops carried the banner of Galeron—they were led by Count Marcus’s captain of arms. Others waved a strange banner—green with black letters that spelled “Nicholas the Hawk.” These warriors were fierce-looking men astride powerful destriers.
Sir Castor’s men, bearing his own banner, led another charge, tearing through the courtyard and hacking at the black-masked guards who were loyal to Duke Julian.
The fighting was furious and bloody. The crowd shoved and ran and fought and fell. Julian’s troops attacked from above with arrows and from below with swords. They swarmed from the castle like a frenzy of locusts.
All of Dinadan roared with battle.
Blood flowed down the stairway of Castle Doom behind them as Nicholas and Marcus fought their way up. They’d hacked through dozens of men thus far, and their swords were bloodied, their clothes torn, but they fought on with a ferocity that terrified all those who opposed them. A dozen soldiers surrounded the two of them as they reached the head of the stairs, and the clang and hiss of swords rang out in frenzied chorus as back to back they fought.
As Nicholas shoved a soldier down the stairs and sent him crashing into three others who were clambering up, he spotted Katerine watching in terror from the doorway of her chambers.
“Where’s Arianne?” he shouted, blocking the thrust of his opponent.
“The tower room—she followed Julian and Cren—ahhh!” she screamed as one of Julian’s men seized her from behind.
“Traitor,” the man snarled. “I’ll teach you to give aid to the enemy…”
With a vicious thrust, Marcus dispatched the soldier who had just bloodied his arm. He swerved toward Katerine and the soldier who held her, rage suffusing his handsome face.
“Release her!” In that instant he recognized the soldier: Baylor, the Captain of Arms, who had delighted in beating the prisoners of the dungeon, who had beaten Marcus only a week earlier.
With an evil smirk, Baylor moved his blade toward Katerine’s heart.
“You’ve been lusting after the duke’s honored wife, and she after you. Now you can watch the whore die.”
At that moment, Katerine tried to wrench free, and Marcus sprang forward. His sword flashed with cold fire as he shoved Baylor’s blade aside only just in time.
Baylor hurled Katerine into the wall and rounded on the count.
Time froze. Katerine stared at the two men in horror, fear for Marcus shining in her eyes. But he didn’t glance at her; his gaze was locked on Baylor, who was grinning maliciously, circling.
“Get inside, Katerine!” Marcus ordered, remarkably calm. “Lock the door!”
She stayed where she was, and without warning, Marcus lunged toward the soldier again.
Fear tore at Nicholas even as he fought off two more of Julian’s men. Something terrible was about to happen. He didn’t know how he knew—he just did. Years on the battlefield had given him a sixth sense where death was concerned. True, it was all around him now, but he sensed that it was bearing down like a wild, panting wolf on someone he loved.
Arianne, he thought in raw terror for her, even as he brought his sword down on the last man in his path. With a quick glance he saw that Marcus had slain the man who had dared threaten Katerine; he was now holding the trembling young woman in his arms.
In a flash Nicholas remembered the secret passageway leading into the tower room itself, and the door that opened only from the outside.
He ducked down the corridor, following several twists and turns. He had to get to Arianne before she confronted Julian and Cren. In the secret passage no soldiers would impede him.
He found the hidden panel, pressed it, and entered dank darkness. With swift, practiced movements he tindered a light, then ran through the close-walled gloom, his boots scraping over the stones as he sprinted toward the secret stair.
When Arianne arrived at the top of the landing, she peered about in dismay. The landing led nowhere. There was nothing here but another short corridor, ending in a wall. No windows, no doors. Just a single light overhead and an arced multicolored panel painted beside a low bench.
Julian and Cren had disappeared.
From below came the distant sounds of fighting. Where were Nicholas and Marcus in all of this pandemonium? At this moment they were most likely battling for their very lives. She closed her eyes, overcome by the horrible images crowding into her brain.
It would do no good to sob or even to search for them. Instinct told her to follow Julian. If she got the chance to rid the earth of him, she would. She had no weapon but her wits, and she was afraid, but she was more afraid of what would happen should he remain archduke of this subjugated land.
She turned her thoughts from the awful din of battle belowstairs and focused on the gypsy’s words. The blue panel.