Page 24 of Lion of Thunder (De Lohr Dynasty: Sons of de Lohr #5)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“W hat’s going on with Taid?” Gabriel de Sherrington was speaking to an anxious collection outside of Massington’s keep. “The physic has been with him for hours.”

No one had an answer for him.

It was after sunset on the day that saw Olan lose his teeth and the de Lohr army prepare for war. They’d been so busy, in fact, that no one noticed Elysande slip into the stable and collect her horse. No one even noticed when she passed beneath the gatehouse because there were three thousand men coming in and out at the time, crowds of men that masked her escape. Not even Harker noticed, as he’d been inside the bailey trying to find a place for the de Lohr troops.

Now, she was gone.

But no one knew.

Not even the de Lohr grandchildren, who were all gathered at the base of the keep in a worrisome bunch. Andrew, Gabriel, Nicholas, Rhodes, Chris, and Arthur had been equally busy in managing the army, blending the Massington troops with the de Lohr troops, adding to the stores they carried from Massington’s supplies, and so on. It had been a perfectly normal, perfectly busy day until Curtis was urgently summoned to the keep.

That was when things turned dark.

So very dark.

Something had happened to Christopher, though no one knew what. Curtis was the only one who knew, and he wouldn’t say. He simply sent his sons for the physic in Hereford, who knew Christopher and knew of his health issues over the years. Chris and Arthur rode at top speed to Hereford, grabbed the physic, and then forced the man to endure a harried flight back to Massington. Fortunately, Hereford was close, so it took hours instead of days to fetch the man. The moment the physic arrived, Curtis, and also Roi, rushed the man up to their parents’ chamber, where he’d remained to this very minute.

It was an anxious little group that waited below.

“Naina should come tell us something soon,” Rhodes said, referring to Dustin by the name all of the grandchildren called her. “Or, at the very least, Uncle Roi should tell us. He knows we have been waiting.”

“What do you think it is, Andrew?” Chris asked quietly. “His heart? His stomach? He has had trouble with both in the past.”

Andrew, the eldest of the group, was a wise man, much like his father. In fact, he wished his father were there to help calm their nerves. Alexander had a manner about him that was always confident, always calm. Andrew had inherited that trait from his father, but he had two brothers and three cousins looking at him now as if he had all the answers and, frankly, he was stumped. Anything he could come up with wasn’t good.

He was trying not to panic.

“I do not know,” he said truthfully. “But we must all keep in mind that Taid is a very old man. Most men of his generation died years ago, so we have been very fortunate to have him as long as we have. We must remember that he had a very good life and he was much loved.”

“God,” Nicholas, Andrew’s younger brother, groaned. “You think he’s dead, don’t you? You think he has died!”

Andrew shook his head. “If he had died, we would have been told already,” he said. “And stop saying things like that. You’ll panic everyone else, and then Naina will box your ears if she’s mad enough.”

“She is always mad enough,” Gabriel muttered.

Six heads nodded in agreement. Dustin wasn’t afraid to punish or demonstrate her annoyance if anyone disobeyed or displeased her. As the six of them stood there, wondering, waiting, their Uncle Myles suddenly bolted past them and up the stairs. He had been in a neighboring village, negotiating for some additional stores to take on the battle march, and someone must have told him about his father. He ran into the keep before the nephews could stop him.

That had all of them looking at each other nervously.

“No word yet?”

They heard a voice coming from the bailey and turned to see Harker heading in their direction. The big knight’s gaze was on the keep, on the illuminated windows high above.

“Nay,” Andrew said. “No word.”

Harker came to a halt, his gaze still on the keep. “Whatever it is, you will know soon enough,” he said, finally lowering his focus to look at them. “You can just as easily wait in the great hall where it is warm and there is food.”

“We know,” Andrew said. “And your hospitality has been greatly appreciated. But we would rather wait here, if you do not mind. I do not suppose we could eat anyway.”

Harker understood. “If you change your mind, you know where the food is,” he said. He paused a moment before continuing. “I do not suppose any of you have seen Lady Ledbury or Lady de Lohr.”

“Our grandmother is in the keep with our grandfather,” Andrew said.

But Harker shook his head. “I meant Lady Westley de Lohr.”

The group shook their heads. “Truthfully, we’ve not met her yet,” Andrew said. “Mayhap she is in the keep.”

Harker excused himself with a nod as he turned back for the great hall. The problem was that he’d been to the great hall in search of Esther and Elysande but had come up empty. He’d also been to the kitchens with no luck. He could only assume that both Esther and Elysande were in the keep, as Andrew had said. He knew that Elysande was extremely upset about Westley’s disappearance. He’d seen her weeping over it. Esther, he was sure, was dealing with whatever was happening inside the keep.

Like a good knight, Harker went to the hall to oversee things.

It was the least he could do.

As the big Teutonic knight walked away, the de Lohr grandsons went back to worrying. Andrew, who had his eye on the entry door, decided enough was enough. With a growl, he headed up the stairs.

“I’m not waiting out here any longer,” he said.

His brothers started to follow. “Can we come?” Gabriel asked.

“I do not care what you do!”

That meant Gabriel and Nicholas followed and charged up the steps after their brother. By the time Andrew was throwing open the entry door, Chris and Arthur and Rhodes brought up the rear. All six of them barged into the keep and, realizing that the activity they were concerned with was taking place on the upper floors, stampeded up the steps until they came to a second set of stairs that led to the third floor. They were halfway up when a figure appeared at the top.

“What in the hell are you lot doing?” Myles demanded. “I could hear you coming inside like a pack of wild animals.”

Andrew came to a halt, as did everyone else behind him. “We do not want to wait outside any longer, Uncle Myles,” he said. “We want to know what happened as much as you do, but no one has told us anything.”

Myles could see how worried they all were. Honestly, he had enough worry of his own, but he wasn’t unsympathetic. He knew how much they loved their taid and he didn’t disagree with them—they had a right to know.

Myles had to figure out how to tell them.

“Uncle Myles?” Rhodes asked from far back in the pack. “Please—what has happened?”

Myles waved a hand at them, indicating for them to go back down the stairs. They did, trying not to trip and fall on one another in the tight space, until they reached the landing at the top of the mural stairs. Myles came down behind them.

“I am going to tell you what I know,” he said. “I want you to listen to me and keep silent. Can you do that?”

Six heads nodded seriously and Myles looked at them all pointedly.

“Naina does not need your questions or weeping or anything else,” he said. “You must be calm and quiet or I swear I’ll throw you out the window personally. Understood?”

Again, the group nodded. “What is so serious?” Andrew asked, a hint of pleading in his tone. “What has happened to Taid?”

Myles sighed softly. “You know this situation with Uncle West has been taxing on him,” he said. “And then this morning with Olan and Marius… Taid was greatly exhausted by it all, so he took what sleep he could this afternoon. When he awoke, he could not move the left side of his body. He can barely speak. The physic is trying to assess what, exactly, happened. And that is all I know.”

The young knights looked horrified. They all wanted to ask questions, questions of concern or desperation or fear, but Myles had asked them not to. Tucked back behind his older brother, Arthur, the youngest of the group, was starting to tear up.

“Is he dying, Uncle Myles?” he asked.

Myles looked at the young man. He wasn’t a knight yet, but he would be soon. Another proud de Lohr knight. In fact, Myles had sons of his own. His older boys, Sebastian and Evander, were fostering at Derby Castle like their grandfather had many years ago. But he had several smaller children at home and his wife was due to give birth to their seventh child next month. Therefore, he was sympathetic to the emotions of youth. He was surrounded by them at home and, not strangely, had learned to be patient. Myles was a paradox of a man, so capable of brutality, yet so capable of understanding.

“I do not know, lad, and that’s the truth,” he said softly. “Now, you may come upstairs and wait with me, but you are not to make a sound. No questions, no conversation. Agreed?”

The young men nodded, so he turned around and headed up the stairs with the six of them in tow. Reaching the level where Christopher’s chamber was, they could see that the landing was empty, so they went to stand against the wall, silently, as Myles had asked. When Myles slipped into Christopher’s chamber, they all strained to catch a glimpse inside, but they couldn’t. The door had opened and closed too fast.

Therefore, they waited.

*

“Get up.”

Someone was kicking Andrew’s foot. Startled, he lifted his head to see Myles standing over him. Blinking, Andrew looked around and saw that he was on the landing outside of Christopher’s bedchamber, slumped against the wall along with his brothers and cousins. They’d settled down to wait at the end of an extremely busy day and ended up falling asleep.

All of them.

“Andy, get up,” Myles said again. “Gabe, Nick—wake up. Come on, lads. There’s news on Taid.”

The young men bolted up, rubbing their eyes and yawning, but they were alert. They followed Myles into the rather large bedchamber that Christopher and Dustin had been sharing. It was warm inside, a snapping fire in the hearth and banks of candles lit up so the physic could see what he was doing.

But it also smelled dank.

Like death.

Dustin was on the far side of the bed, wrapped up in a shawl, her features pale and drawn. Curtis and Roi stood at the bottom of the bed while the physic leaned over Christopher, his hand on the man’s chest to feel his respiration. When he evidently had the information he needed, he stood up straight and sighed faintly.

“I’ve seen enough,” he finally said. A younger man with black hair pulled into a knot at the back of his head, he opened up his medicament bag and began putting things away. “Lord Hereford and I know each other quite well. For a man of his advanced years, his health has been remarkable. Even when he is ill, he still manages to come through. That is a testament to how strong he really is. But… he has something now that will be very difficult to recover from. I must tell you that I have seen people with this affliction before.”

“What affliction?” Curtis asked, sounding strained. “We’ve watched you for hours and you’ve not said a word. Sometimes you just sat and stared at him. What affliction?”

The physic looked at him. “I will not lie to you, my lord,” he said. “He has had an attack of the brain that we call apoplexy. Something happens inside the head and it affects the body. As of now, Lord Hereford cannot move the left side of his body. He can barely speak. He has lost control of some bodily functions. When I arrived and realized what it was, I was able to force a willow potion down his throat. That sometimes helps in something like this, but it is not a cure. There is no cure, I am sorry to say. He will never fully recover. If the next few days show no real improvement, then I am afraid we will lose him.”

There it was. What they’d all been dreading. One could hear a collective gasp go up from the grandsons, but Curtis and Roi and Myles remained silent, looking at their father with various expressions of sorrow. Curtis was tearing up and roughly wiped at his eyes.

“Is he dying, then?” he forced himself to ask.

The physic looked at him, trying to be sympathetic. “It is difficult to say,” he said quietly. “Possibly. His breathing is irregular and that concerns me.”

“If you have seen this before, then how have others weathered the affliction given the same symptoms?” Dustin asked. Her voice was faint and tremulous. “Have you seen others survive something like this?”

The physic sighed and looked to Christopher, who was unconscious. He thought the man might be sleeping because of his erratic breathing, but he could not be sure. He also could not lie to the family on his experiences with such attacks.

“If it were my husband, my lady, I would send word to anyone of importance to him,” he said as gently as he could. “Let things be said now that need to be said to him. Make any preparations you must make. Usually, when an attack this bad happens, it is more often than not followed by another attack that will kill. I wish I could give you more hope than that. I am sorry I cannot.”

Dustin nodded. Then her eyes welled up and tears spilled over. Her lower lip trembled as she sat on the edge of the bed, looking at her husband as he lay there. Reaching out, she took his hand, turned her head, and began to weep silently.

With a heavy sigh, Roi went to his mother and sat down at her feet, taking her free hand and holding it tightly. He was trying very hard not to tear up himself. Curtis, unable to hold back the tears, looked to the physic and whispered his thanks as Myles simply stared at his father and ground his teeth together. The man was clenching his jaw so hard that he was close to breaking teeth.

“What brings on an attack like this?” Myles asked, hardly able to get the words out because he was gritting his jaw so tightly. “Is it worry? Is it concern or heartache?”

The physic lifted his slender shoulders. “No one knows,” he said. “But great and terrible events have been known to cause such things. They cause an imbalance in the body, a tightening of the heart or lungs, and that can bring on these attacks.”

Myles snorted ironically. “Great and terrible events,” he muttered. “Like his youngest son being abducted. Of course that caused this. Olan de Bisby has caused this.”

With that, he stormed for the door, but Curtis dashed after him, grabbing him before he could leave.

“Wait,” Curtis said, holding his angry brother. “Where are you going?”

Myles was furious. “Where do you think?” he growled. “I am going to visit our friend in the vault. He caused this, Curt. If you think I was cruel to him earlier today, watch what I shall do to him now.”

“Roi?” Curtis called over to his other brother. “I need your help.”

Roi was on his feet, nearly leaping over the bed to get to Curtis and Myles, who were now starting to struggle. Roi grabbed Myles, trying to keep the man from getting through the door.

“This does not help Papa, Myles,” he said, grunting when Myles inadvertently elbowed him in the gut. “Calm yourself. Show your nephews how a man of wisdom and experience handles a devastating situation.”

Myles had a different personality than his older brothers. Both of them were more diplomatic, calmer in dire situations, while Myles was a man of action. He was fearless, something that had served him well as an Executioner Knight. As the group struggled at the door and the younger knights watched in concern and confusion, a noise came from the bed.

It was low and mournful but loud, startlingly so. In fact, it made the hair on the back of their necks stand up, as if something otherworldly and dark had just entered the room. The brothers stopped tussling as all eyes looked to the bed. Another noise came again, not as loud as the first, as Christopher lifted his right hand slowly.

“Myles,” he said, but the word was barely understandable. “To me.”

Shocked, the brothers moved back to the bed, with Myles putting himself in his father’s line of sight. Or so he hoped. Christopher’s right eye was open, half-lidded, while the left eye remained closed. But he was most definitely awake. How alert he actually was remained to be determined, but Myles and Curtis and Roi and even Dustin leaned over the bed, watching Christopher as he lowered his right hand.

“Myles,” he said slowly, sounding like he had a mouth full of sand. “No… more.”

Myles looked at Curtis to see if his brother had any clue as to what their father meant before returning his attention to Christopher.

“No more, Papa?” he said gently. “No more… you mean leave Olan alone?”

Christopher’s right eye closed, as if the mere act of talking had taken everything out of him. “Aye,” he whispered.

Dustin sat down on the bed next to him, taking his right hand in hers. “You’ve had a bit of a mishap, my love,” she said softly. “The physic says your brain is being difficult and has made it so you cannot move your left side. He has seen this before. Are you in any pain?”

Christopher squeezed her hand but didn’t reply right away. The left side of his face was droopy and immobile while the right side was relaxed and pliable.

“Nay,” he finally said, though it was extremely difficult to make out what, exactly, he was saying. “West… Westley?”

Curtis came around to stand next to his mother. “We are mobilizing the army, Papa,” he said quietly. “We will retrieve Westley, I promise.”

Christopher took a long, deep breath. “Hell’s Forge is… difficult,” he mumbled. “Do not… waste time on… gatehouse. Too strong. Target… walls.”

Curtis nodded. “We will,” he said. “We will be successful, I swear it. But what can we do for you? Are you comfortable?”

Christopher sighed again, a sound that implied exhaustion and defeat and sorrow. Before he could reply, however, Andrew came between Curtis and Dustin, going to his knees beside the bed. Reaching out, he took his grandfather and grandmother’s hands, still intertwined, and held them tightly.

“We love you, Taid,” he said, his voice breaking. “We are here—me and Gabriel and Nicholas, and Rhodes and Chris and Arthur. We are all here and we love you.”

Tears streamed down his face as Dustin put her free hand on the young man’s head in a comforting gesture. “They are all here,” she confirmed. “You know they would not stay away when they heard you’d taken ill. Your lads love you very much.”

Suddenly, the younger men were rushing the bed, all of them crouching or going down on their knees. Hands reached out to touch Christopher as he lay there, incapacitated. Arthur, the youngest of the group, began to weep softly. If Christopher could have been healed by love alone, the adoration filling that chamber at that moment would have healed him a thousand times over. In response to his distraught grandsons, Christopher pulled his hand free from Dustin’s grip and put it on Andrew’s dark head.

“I… am not dead yet,” he said. “Who is weeping?”

Andrew looked over at Arthur. “Artie is, Taid,” he said. “Do you want me to slap him?”

That brought laughter from the entire group. Even the right side of Christopher’s mouth twitched. “That is not… necessary,” he said. “Be kind to your cousin. He is… just a lad. Curtis?”

“I’m here, Papa.”

“Find Westley,” Christopher said, his right eye opening to fix on his eldest son. “Find my son. And I want to go… home.”

Curtis nodded. “We will make sure of both, Papa,” he said. “You needn’t worry.”

Christopher’s eyes closed again and the hand that had been on Andrew’s head lowered back to the bed. After several long moments, his breathing evened out and he started snoring softly. His weary body had gone to sleep. With a sad and lingering look at his father, Curtis motioned everyone out of the chamber.

Silently, they moved.

Leaving Dustin and the physic in the chamber with Christopher, the de Lohr men gathered on the landing outside of the chamber. Curtis was the last one through, shutting the door quietly behind him before turning to the group.

“Now,” he said with quiet firmness, “we have a siege to plan, a brother to rescue, and a father to take home. We will all have roles in this because there is much to do. Roi, you will be in charge of moving Papa home. As much as I want your sword in battle, I would rather have you responsible for Papa. That is going to be a difficult enough task and, aside from saving West, it is inarguably the most important. Will you see to it?”

Roi nodded. “Aye,” he said, glancing at the group around them. “Give me Artie and Chris. That means you take the more experienced men to battle with you.”

“Agreed,” Curtis said. Then he turned to Myles. “You must be the army’s eyes and ears. You are the best one suited for intelligence and strategy. Pick your men and send them to Hell’s Forge to gather information so we know what we are facing. The army will move on your plans.”

Myles nodded. “I’m taking Andrew with me.”

“Go.”

Andrew made the most sense, since both of his parents had been Executioner Knights and he, too, was an operative for the guild. As the two of them headed down the stairs, Curtis turned to the remaining knights—Rhodes, Gabriel, and Nicholas. Young knights, but all highly trained. Rhodes in particular was worth his weight in gold in battle. The three of them were looking at Curtis eagerly, awaiting orders. Like any man with de Lohr blood, they lived for a good fight.

And this one promised to be one of the most serious they had ever faced.

“Rhodes,” Curtis said, “you are in charge of mustering the army. I realize that everyone has been working all day to prepare, but the moment is here. Movement is imminent. Go to the bailey, inform Harker, and be ready to move.”

Rhodes nodded smartly, heading down the stairs with the rest of the young knights in tow, Chris and Arthur included. That left Curtis and Roi alone on the landing, struggling to digest all that had happened and all that needed to happen.

It was up to them now.

“This is not how we had planned this day,” Curtis muttered, running his fingers wearily through his blond hair. “I suppose I always knew we would face this moment with Papa, but now that it is here… I feel as if I am wholly unprepared.”

Roi nodded. “I know,” he said quietly. “Curt, what do we do if we get to Hell’s Forge and Westley is already dead? Do we tell Papa?”

Curtis shook his head slowly, with great sadness. “I do not know,” he said honestly. “But my instincts tell me that he must know. I’ve never lied to Papa in my life and I do not want to start now by lying to a dying man.”

Roi nodded with resignation. “Then let us hope it does not come to that,” he said. “But I will say one thing.”

“What is it?”

“If Westley is dead, then I am unleashing Myles and I hope he obliterates the entire House of Fitz Walter. I will goddamn help him.”

A deadly gleam came to Curtis’ eye. “So will I, brother,” he muttered. “So will I.”