Part XI

© Copyright 2004 by Elizabeth Delayne

"We must hurry."

Percy's voice drew Sara out of sleep. She opened her eyes and blinked. A sliver of light cast round him. It was not the wavering light of a torch, but the dim, steady glow of the sun.

Her heart beat fast with joy. If she could have stood quickly, she would have run toward the source.

As it was, she stumbled to her feet and would have fallen if not for Percy's quick hand that held her up. It was not supportive, none too gentle. She leaned against him, using his strength as a cane, until she felt herself balanced.

He released her and grabbed his pack along with hers. "Brock says we must hurry to get you both into the castle. He senses armies on the move. They are coming this way."

"Here in the darkness?" Ashton asked and followed him into the open corridor. Behind them, Sarah watched the ground, pursuing the trail of light.

"No—above ground. We'll need to get the entrance hidden again quickly. It's already dangerous that we know and have used this knowledge."

Their voices echoed as they stepped into the large cavern.

Sara stopped and looked up, not feet within, and blinked against the brighter light that came from the center.

The cavern was large and open, with towering pillars like those in the throne room. Five archways, there openings Romanesque in detail and beauty, flanked the walls surrounding them—six archways for the six spoke-like passages that ran throughout the kingdom. On either side of each arch was a statue of a man, wearing something like kilt, the skirt made of straps. Each wore a cape and carried a spear like a staff, their heads anointed with a crown of leaves.

Ashton gasped and Sarah followed her gaze to the largest of the archways, now barricaded by stone. "To keep invaders out or to keep someone in?"

"That passage points toward the castle," Percy noted without pause. "From what we can tell, it has been that way for years."

"For ten years."

"For a king's reign."

To keep the king in, Sarah thought, and remembered the day the king had blessed William's marriage to her. There had been so many people. Her parent's and family, the families of Galladin, had all been invited. Such pomp and ceremony.

She'd stood, wanting to feel like royalty, instead feeling daunted under the power. It followed William in the way he commanded himself and the people around them. Power was the king's birthright.

She'd wished desperately for Lila at that moment, and then, days later, Lila had been there. At the ball. Her first where she attended officially as William's betrothed.

If William was on the side of the Dark Dragon, and Billingdor on the side of the king ... why had the union been blessed by the king? Why had William wished for the blessing?

Daunted by the memory of her betrothed, she looked instead to the immense cavern.

In the center was a large stone staircase, magnificent in size and fashion. The steps were deep and wide enough for horses to easily move up and down. It circled wide in a sweeping spiral to the ceiling above. Light came through the opening where Brock's boot-clad legs stood on the top step, the rest of him hidden from view. It shimmered down the steps, like gold.

She heard then, sounds, from above ground. Birds, the rustle of tress.

How quiet her world had been, she thought, that the sound of the breeze would seem nearly deafening to one's ears.

"It's not time for this," Percy came forward quickly and grabbed her wrist. Only then did she realize that she'd stopped, awed by the urethral beauty.

Percy tugged her forward. When they reached the stairs he bade her to go up ahead of him.

Did he think she would stay? Did he understand that there was part of her that wished to remain in the quiet, hidden cavern, away from the life of sunlight and noise?

Even as she was desperate for the light and the freedom that would come once she was in the light.

The steps were tricky. Too deep for one or even two single strides, but not quite enough for three. Stones had broken off. She stumbled and knew Percy's displeasure when he caught her again.



On the tower overlooking the lake, Lila watched as her Uncle led his army from behind the gates and safety of Billingdor. The light was dim, shrouded in mist. The sun rising low on the horizon.

Her eyes shifted, again, to the moving force of Fowler. Still in the distance, it seemed as if the trees moved for them, bending out of the way.

She looked again at the army of her uncle and the king and spotted the armor that belonged to her beloved Alex. He rode with his men, straight and stalwart on his horse.

Be with him.

In the tower above the battle, she spread her arms wide and tipped her face toward the heavens in desperation as the fear rolled through her.

"Father, God. Bring the righteous victory."

How she wished for Ashton and for Sara. How she wished for the quiet of days past. Was it only because she had left the castle and moved toward London that had brought this swift move from Fowler? Would his secrecy have lasted forever if she had remained always safe under her Uncle's shield?

But would she have met Alex within the walls? Would Alex have been united with her Uncle to take on this foe?

Be with him.



In the silence of the morning, the armies stood on either end of the small glen. Too close to the castle walls, was all Billingdor could think. Lila and his people within, the women and children who waited, would not be safe until the army was pushed back.

And defeated.

Without defeat, all of England was under Fowler's sickened mercy.

There was no other option today but victory.

Arthur of Greenburough and his troops had yet to arrive, but if their information was correct, they were following Fowler's men—so they were close. Alex led a battalion of men from the king's choice guards. Billingdor had his own, and the men from the neighboring castles who had been sent to be of service.

They faced the dark dragon and the brutal sense of his greed.

The battleground pulsed. For a moment the armies waited. The sun beat down. A horse pranced.

Then all was still.

In one move, he raised his hand and his men maneuvered quickly, to the left and right. The archer's streamed forward. Their arrows flew out in one massive attack across the glen.

The battle was on.



"Lady Lila, you must go down. Tis not safe." The soldier who stood beside her now spoke gently. She looked at him, dressed in his full armor.

When had men of Billingdor felt such need within the castle walls?

She nodded when he bade her again and turned from the tower, even as she fought against the urge to remain. The battle had begun. Even from the castle walls she could hear the roar of men in battle. It seemed her uncle had taken the first shot.

Once she left the tower, she would no longer see, she could no longer know.

Have faith.

She turned and lifted her skirts as she descended. Her new companion waited at the bottom of the stairs. Her name was Mary. Roses that grew from the ground at the outer edge of the garden flanked her on either side. There was sadness in her eyes.

"Do not be afraid," Lila told her—but were the words more for herself, or for Mary?

"My Thom is out with my lord."

Lila reached out a hand and placed it on her cheek. It was easy to feel lost and alone, to forget that other men waging battle with Alex, that other women and families waited with anxious hearts. It was easy to forget that while the battle waged there was danger even to those in the castle. It was easy to forget that there were tasks to complete.

"Come," Lila said and took her hand. "We must prepare the ward."



It was as if they walked in a land untouched, cleansed by time. There were no paths to follow, no signs of life—which was odd. Wasn't the king's forest supposed to be his hunting ground? And if the king knew nothing of the area, where were the birds, the creatures of the hunt?

The trees were tall and blanketed the sky with full limbs. The sky and sun peaked through, blue over head.

Brock had dawned his full armor. His pace was slow, careful. His ear tilted to the wind, his free hand held out as if to command silence. He held his sword at his side, much as he had done for their journey.

Beside him, Percy also carried his sword unsheathed.

Sarah held onto Ashton's hand and stayed alert. Her eyes flicked to the woods, dense, yet open. Where could she run if she had to run? What had she to protect herself?

She looked at Percy, his back to her, and she sighed.

Brock held up a hand and their small party came to a stop. "Listen."

Percy stopped and reached out an instinctive hand to support Sara. The forest was no longer quiet. There was a dim roar.

"We're heading right toward the battle."

"Then they've reached the castle."

"They aren't heading for the castle," Brock reminded him. "They want what we just left behind."



The dragon descended, bringing his dark horse to a stop before Billingdor. His horse reared up, somewhat mad. Fowler cackled.

"So we meet again—at last, Blakely of Billingdor," Fowler cried from beneath his helmet. He raised his long sword as Blakely lifted his.

Billingdor wrapped his hands tightly in the reins, his horse shuffling beneath him.

"You have brought destruction on the people of this kingdom."

"I have brought my revenge."

"For what?" Billingdor asked, waving his sword. His horse moved beneath him, restless. "For this? For men of your country fighting against foreign invaders? And if you win, Fowler? Will there ever be an England again? Or will it belong only to the Celts and the Barbarians of which you have brought?"

"It will belong to the just," Fowler said as he swung his sword.

It hit with a sharp clang against Billingdor's. "Then it will belong to the champions of right."



"This way—"

Brock moved first, quickly, even as Sarah felt Percy push her to the ground. A arrow flew, hit a tree. Wood splintered off.

The battle waged close now. The amount of light warned of the edge to the forest.

With Percy's arm holding her down, Sara lay with her head to the ground. She closed her eyes and nearly wept at the feel of cool grass. It was as if the earth trembled beneath her.

What would it be like, now, to die? It wouldn't be so dark, so horrifying, as the days in William's keep.

But what would it be like to live? She opened her eyes, focused again on the light.

"We have to get them to the castle," Brock held Ashton down, his eyes looking over grass, as he shouted over the growing roar.

"How?"

"You'll have to take them around back."

"There's a lake," Ashton warned. She sat up, shifting behind a large tree. Even as she did, Percy drew Sarah up and around. She brushed at her hair, knowing it was now threaded with grass. "The forest runs around the lake to reach Castle Billingdor."

Brock frowned. "Any boats?"

"Not on this side. Billingdor sails out in the night, but always returns in the morn."

"Then we will follow the lake and go around."

"No—" Ashton shook her head. She looked at Sara first, then back at Brock. "It will take us days to make it around the lake and back to Billingdor. I won't stand aside, sneak away as the home of my family is under attack. Billingdor has called his men to him. That is my family out there, fighting for our land."

"For England."

Brock, Ashton and Percy turned in surprise at Sara's words. She didn't flinch under their study. "If it is for England that I must die, then it shall be."

‘Twas darkness from her past and righteousness before her, Sara thought and met Percy's gaze with her own. For a moment it was just the two of them, the quiet of a clearing, the battle forgotten.

He reached out, touched a hand to her cheek.

Brock's voice pulled them back.

"We'll need to have a line of defense. I'll stay with you as long as possible, but if I need to, I'll move away first, keep the battle as far from you. Percy, you do the same thing." He looked to Sara and then Ashton, his gaze deep and troubled. "Your role, both of you, is to stay alive. Do you hear?"

Sara looked at Ashton and she felt her heart crumble. It wasn't something either of them could promise.



They'd fallen to the ground, their battle man to man, skill to skill. On feet, aged with years neither could defeat, they fought. The battle waged around them. Blakely knew his sword, but his foe was an enemy that had been sheathed for too long in darkness. Dangerous and lethal, the dragon swung his blade.

This time Blakely blocked. He'd already been struck, the blade sneaking passed armor and piercing into his skin like a bite.

To the west a cry sounded as men from Fowler's following turned and met Arthur's army that came from behind.

Even though he faced only his challenger, Fowler remained confidant.

"Tis not over," Fowler laughed as he blocked another attack, sword against sword they clashed. Again. "Tis only begun."

Behind his mask, Blakely remained silent. He hoped Fowler would see it as the dark silence of the Black knight.

But he was tiring and in need of support. Weak from battle, he feared it would not end.

He was too old.

Even as he signaled Alex, Fowler's sword sliced deep within.

"You've met your end."



"No!"

Brock pushed Ashton on. "Keep going."

But they seen the Black Knight fall. Who would have believed ...

"Move," he ordered, "don't look back. Just move."

Shaken, Sara stumbled and felt Percy's hand grab hold of her arm. She turned blindly to face him, still seeing the lord of Billingdor fall. The gentle giant, for all his love and laughter, tumbled back and received his fatal stab.

She looked back, but even now, riders converged around the fallen lord, his body now hidden from view. There was a stillness then sudden howl of grief.

From her heart or from heart of warriors, she didn't know.

"We must move," Percy pleaded, pulling at her arm until she realized her feet had halted. Ashton had already been dragged far ahead. Even now, Brock was turning from her, leaving her.

The battle was moving closer. The lake lapped at her feet. There was nowhere to run but forward or back.

"Sara," Percy bade, "go with Ashton. Get to the safety of the castle. Now."

The soldiers were drawing closer.

She lifted her skirts and ran, her eyes on Ashton. Percy moved toward battle. To fight.

Where the lord of Billingdor had fallen.



"Open the gates!"

The call rang out from the towers. Soldiers moved with a sudden burst of activity. In the still of the ward Lila looked across at the women of her land, there to serve and heal. Some were all nerves, their faces pale with uncertainty. Others were armed with age, ready to lead in a battle for life.

"Wounded," the call came again. "Open the gates."

There was a sudden sound as the heavy doors were tugged open. Lila looked at Mary and saw the fear she knew was reflected in her own eyes. They worried over the faces that they would see, the news they would hear.

The room was suddenly swarming with men, carrying the fallen. They left quickly, but where there had been silence, there was now activity. Even as the gates were closed again, the work had begun.

"What have you seen?" Lila asked of a man whose wound would be dressed so he could return to battle.

He flinched as the strap of linen was tightened around his wound. "The battle is away yet."

"My uncle—Alex?"

"Alive when I saw them last."



The wave of battle moved suddenly as the warriors of Billingdor learned of their lord's death. They rallied and pushed the Barbarian army back, away from the lake.

Even so, Percy stopped as a rider challenged him and slid from his horse. He moved his sword to cross in front of him, agile and ready.

"So you found yourself in battle."

Twas the son of Galladin, his armor shimmering under the light of the sun. His face was hidden, but his presence was strong.

Percy had met his foe. Where a jovial life had reigned, he now felt rage. Here was Sara's captor, destroyer. Here was the man who had wounded her. He felt the ire rise up within.

Not a warrior, his sword was useless against the skill of William. His training weak, his passion peace, he faced his foe.

"You found yourself on the side of evil."

William laughed, "Even now the king is dead. Do you think we left anything to chance?" He laughed. "I found my place. Fowler doesn't want the crown."

"So you're going to take it. With Sara by your side? A subdued, quiet wife?" He remembered the fear in Sara's eyes, when he'd found her in the room, with a bare floor and darkness for company.

William attacked and Percy blocked, holding his sword as he had been trained. Their swords trembled together, one against the other, before sliding a part.

"She never would have been Queen," William's eyes glinted through his helmet, "but with her I could bide my time. The King picked her for me. He thought I should pursue her as a favor to her father whom he had planned to strip of his land. If he thought me obedient, then it only worked in our plans. Little did he know that Fowler had also picked me."

William swung his sword. What Percy lacked in skill, he made up for in speed. He moved, William's blade propelled down, slicing into his arm.

He cried out, back stepped. His breathing fierce, he met the gaze of his enemy.

Holding his sword in front of him, Percy circled, knowing his back was now to the battle. He drew his breath deep and prayed. "You are worthy not."

William moved as if to strike again even as an arrow slashed through the air. Percy watched him fall, his eyes wide with surprise.

The battle beat and circled around them, even as Percy stared down at his foe. Even in anger, he felt pity, for the boy he remembered at court, the years they had grown together.

The man he could have become.

He looked up, alarmed, as a rider came close. It was Arthur, brother to William. He slid from his horse and knelt at his brother's side, lifting the mask of his helmet. Their horses closed them off, the lake to their back, the battle beyond.

This was his king, Percy realized. If William was right, and the king was dead ... then Fowler's fury was an even greater threat.

And Arthur was suddenly his greatest enemy.

"Arthur—"

The younger carefully removed the helmet as his brother shook with final breath. "It's over, William."

"We were ... meant to be—king. You couldn't see," William shook with death. "We were ... brothers. Always brothers."

Arthur swallowed as William struggled for a moment until death reigned. He bowed his head. "We were," he murmured.

HEY! and don't forget to e-mail me if you have a comment!





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