“You don’t think this could be a dream? Or a moment’s fancy?” Rose asked.
“No it’s real. I can’t explain how I know, I just do. It’s happening right now!” Penny was close to tears.
“Come then, there isn’t any time.” One remarkable thing about Rose Hightower was her ability to judge people, and she knew beyond doubt that what might be happening was deadly serious. She hurried down the corridors with Penny, all thought of stately manners forgotten, until shockingly, she hiked up her dress like a common maid and ran, long legs moving with surprising speed. Penny was hard pressed to keep up with her and she considered herself a fair runner.
They reached the stables in record time and scared one of the young grooms half to death when they threw the doors open. “Pardon milady!” he cried, unsure what to think.
“I need two horses now.” Rose said in a tone that brooked no argument. One could hardly tell she had but a moment before been running like a dairy maid late to milk the cows.
“Certainly ma’am,” he promptly answered and headed for where the palfreys were in their stalls.
“Not some placid mare, dolt! I need fast horses, are any of the coursers left?” Rose barely raised her voice but she sounded as if she were shouting all the same. Long minutes later, they were riding out the gate. Rose pulled up for a moment and looked at Penny, “Which way?”
Without thinking Penny pointed, “That way, almost a mile off…” At this point she didn’t even care how she knew; she just needed to find him.
Some distance from them Dorian Thornbear was riding through the trees. He had heard a loud noise and now there was the sound of a horse screaming in fear and pain. He nudged his mount to a faster pace and soon came into sight of the dying animal. It was lying on its side, feebly kicking with broken legs. He looked for the rider and spotted Devon Tremont nearby, standing over the fallen rider. He looked positively ominous. That was Mort’s horse! he thought to himself.
Kicking his horse into a gallop, he reached the spot in less than a minute. He might almost have thought Devon was there to help his fallen friend but the man was standing quietly without moving to do anything. Then Devon noticed him and his face twisted into a grimace, angry at being interrupted. Dorian could see Mort on the ground, his face red as he slowly strangled. Without a second thought Dorian drew his sword and leapt from his horse before it had even come to a stop.
Devon Tremont looked at him and lifted his hand, “Grethak,” he said, in some language Dorian did not recognize, but the warrior paid him no heed. Dorian came at him like a berserker from the legends, his face terrible to behold, and the young lord knew fear, for his spell had completely failed. He might have tried another, something more potent, but Dorian was on him already, sword sweeping out to remove his head. Quick as he was, Devon had his own sword out and stopped the stroke before it ended his life.
The exchange that followed was brief. Dorian pressed him back, raining blows upon him with a speed and fury that Devon had never encountered. Despairing he threw up his hands, “Wait! If you kill me he will die!” Lightning quick, Dorian struck the sword from his hand and had his blade against the other man’s throat.
“If he dies you will follow,” the words grated from his throat like gravel, the sword pressing so hard against Devon’s neck that blood sprang up from the wounded skin.
“I was only trying to help. Let me try something and it may save him!” Devon’s eyes were wide with fear, he could see his death in the other man’s eyes.
Dorian’s sword never moved, instead he moved closer and grabbing the young lord by the neck he forced him to his knees alongside Mordecai’s now still form. “Save him now or your head will join his upon the ground.” Without raising his voice he radiated such violent intent that it would have chilled the heart of a hardened killer.
Devon reached out to Mordecai but Dorian jerked his head back roughly, “Betray me now and you won’t live past your next breath.”
“I need to touch him, to get him breathing.” Devon was desperate with fear now, for he knew time was short and the man holding him would kill him if Mordecai failed to recover.
Dorian nodded and Devon reached out again, “Keltis,” he said, and Mordecai’s body went limp, yet still he did not breathe.
“What did you do?!” Dorian kicked the other man sending him sprawling. Raising his sword he made ready to cleave the traitor’s head from his shoulders. ont colDorian no!” it was a woman’s voice, but Dorian didn’t care. He would have blood for his friend’s life. A small hand reached for his arm, to stay his strike. Without thought he swatted the hand away, backhanding the one who sought to stop him, and then his eyes saw Rose Hightower falling back. That stopped him, and he saw her reach up to wipe the blood from her lip. His rage left him, as shock at what he had done brought him to himself.
“I was trying to help him… and this idiot brute attacked me!” Devon never managed to stay silent for long; even now he was regaining his feet.
Rose spat at him, “Silence fool! You think your lies will be heard here? Count yourself lucky I stopped this man; else your head would be parted from your shoulders. Even so I would not have saved you if I did not fear a good and honest man might hang for your murder.” Rose Hightower drew herself up and looked at Dorian.
“Gods! Rose! I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Never! Not for the world!” Dorian’s eyes were wild with grief and he saw Penny kneeling next to his fallen friend. “He’s dead Penny, he’s dead, and that bastard did it, I swear!” He raised his sword again, pointing it toward Devon Tremont, a growl rising in his throat.
Rose Hightower was having none of it, and she flung herself at Dorian, a flurry of skirts and hair whipping around her. “Stop it you stupid stupid man! Goddammit Dorian, I won’t let you throw your life aside like some cheap token.” She was a tall woman, but Dorian Thornbear was a mountain of a man, still she climbed him like a furious cat, striking him with her fists.
Astonished Dorian stopped, during his year in Albamarl he had never touched Rose, and their only words had been the measured speech of polite society. Now she was hanging from him like some maddened wild creature, a more absurd picture he could not have imagined. He had a sudden urge to kiss her, but suppressed it immediately. “Lady, I think perhaps we are both overwrought,” he said, as he began to disentangle himself. He managed to get her back on her feet, but Rose steadfastly refused to let go of him, and he didn’t have the strength to force her.
Penny was on the ground, her hands on Mordecai’s chest, gripping his shirt, “Live damn you! You can’t be dead. We still have too much to say,” her tears left wet spots on the cloth of his shirt. The pain and sorrow were too much for her and without pausing to consider she leaned down to kiss him, ignoring the blood staining his face. She laid her head on his chest while her world unraveled, the only man she had ever cared for lay dead, and she was to blame. Then she heard his heart, beating slowly. “He’s alive!”
Silence reigned for a moment as everyone took in what she had said. “He’s alive I said! Someone get help, we need to get him back to the keep!” Her eyes flashed, “You!” She pointed at Devon, “Get someone, get everyone… go!”
“I’ll go,” said Rose, but Penny forestalled h er with a raised hand.
“No, I need you here, and I don’t trust him without Dorian here,” she replied. Soon enough Devon was on his horse, angry at being ordered about but fearful of Dorian’s response should he balk at her commands. He rode off quickly and headed for Lancaster Castle.
The rest of the afternoon was a frenzied blur as they got him to the castle. Penny refused to leave his side during the entire affair, not trusting him out of her sight. Once Marc arrived things got much more organized and they soon had him in his own bed. The Duke’s own physician, Sean Townsend was sent to examine him.
The room was full of people and the doctor quickly waved everyone out, “I’ll need some privacy to examine him.” Most of them went. “Miss you will have to go, it’s hardly proper for me to examine the young man with a woman present, I’ll have to undress him.”
Penny didn’t move, “I won’t leave him. So you might as well get to it.”
The physician looked at her for a moment before appealing to the Duke, “Your grace if you don’t mind, I can’t have women in here while I work.”
James walked over, reaching out to take her hand but she stepped away, “Try it, you’ll draw back a nub next time…,” she glared at him, “Your grace.” She added belatedly.
The Duke of Lancaster stared at her for a long moment, considering, then spoke, “Very well, doctor you’ll just have to work with a lady present.”
“I have to remove his clothes your grace, you can’t mean to let…” he started.
“I won’t repeat myself sir, be about your work,” without another word the Duke left the room. The physician
