Enchantress (Medieval Trilogy 1)

“Lady Clare—” Sir Guy beseeched her, but Clare lunged, cutting his arm with the sword.

“I said halt,” she commanded, her eyes ablaze.

Ware and Joseph tumbled to the floor, and Springan rolled away from the wrestling men. Joseph still clawed frantically at the hands around his throat, his legs kicking wildly, connecting with Ware’s already bruised midsection. Still Ware clung to him, desperate to redeem himself. He would either reclaim the castle or die trying. Joseph was losing strength; Ware felt the lifeblood draining from his enemy, saw the bulge of Joseph’s cruel eyes.

The men raised their swords again, but Clare commanded, “Drop your weapons. I will kill you. One at a time.”

“’Tis you who will be killed,” Joseph rasped, his fingers scrabbling at Ware’s squeezing grip.

“Is it? What would happen if Ware and I died at your hands?” she asked. “Are you foolish enough to want to be responsible to Lord Garrick for the death of his family? Unless you want to face him when he returns, unless you want to explain that you killed his brother and sister, you had better lower your weapons now!”

“That’s right!” Cadell chimed in, ready to do battle.

Still Joseph struggled, making a last vain attempt to save himself. He kicked and twitched, but Ware only tightened his grip, and the bigger man’s face turned an ugly shade of blue. Spittle collected in his beard, and he gagged repeatedly, gasping for air that he couldn’t get to his starving lungs.

Ware pressed harder, cracking Joseph’s neck. The big man convulsed as a shudder ripped through his body. His hands fell away from Ware’s wrists; his legs sagged. His body twitched in Ware’s death grip. In a hiss of stench, the last breath left his lungs, and his eyes rolled back in his head: Sir Joseph was dead.

Silence followed, broken only by Ware’s tortured breathing.

Sir Guy was paralytic as he gazed at the pile of flesh that had once been Joseph. He glanced up at Clare. “What if Strahan kills Lord Garrick?”

Clare said evenly, “Are you, Sir Guy, willing to take that chance?”

From the open door of the hallway, a low, horrible growl rumbled into the room.

“The wolf!” the soldier nearest the door whispered nervously. “Who the devil let him out?”

“No one did,” Cadell said. “I had but to call to him and he came. He is, after all, the companion of the witch. Come, beast!” he said, whistling sharply.

Again the wolf growled, causing the hair on the back of Ware’s neck to lift in fear. He struggled to his feet, the blood and spit of Joseph’s death throes still staining his hands. Beyond his own fear, he admired Cadell’s presence of mind. “’Tis true. The wolf is from the depths of hell. I heard Garrick say as much,” Ware lied, thankful for Cadell’s vivid imagination.

Two of the knights dropped their weapons and crossed themselves. Ware grabbed one sword; Cadell picked up the other.

Glyn looked stricken, but she didn’t thank God, or utter a word.

Gold eyes blazing menacingly, the thick hair behind his ears raised, Wolf slunk into the chamber. His black lips were pulled back, and he snarled and paced, looking as if he might pounce at any minute upon anyone unfortunate enough to be in his path.

Glyn nearly swooned.

“Now, listen,” Clare commanded, as if talking to children. “This castle belongs to my brother. You have pledged your fealty to him, and yet you betrayed him by rising against him with Strahan. Now is the time to prove yourselves.” She lifted her sword a little higher, as if she intended to cleave into two bloody halves anyone who approached her. “What say you, Sir Guy? Are you loyal to Garrick or will you follow that swine Strahan straight to hell?”

Guy glanced around the room — at Ware, who had killed the bravest of Strahan’s knights; at Clare, regal and self-righteous with her sword upraised; at pitiful, pious Glyn and daft Cadell. His gaze wandered to the wolf, and the beast crouched, his unblinking gaze focused on Guy’s soft throat. Swallowing with difficulty, one eye on the cur, Guy knelt, his head bowed, his neck vulnerable, should Clare or the wolf attack. He placed his sword on the floor hardly more than a rasp. “I shall pray for God’s forgiveness as well as Garrick’s. Would that his justice be merciful.”

“Aye.” Sir James knelt as well, laying his sword on the rushes before him. Soon all five of the men had cast aside their weapons and pledged their loyalty to Garrick of Abergwynn. For this, Ware stripped them of their knives and imprisoned them in the very chamber in which he and the others had been held captive.

“We can’t trust them,” Clare warned him, and Ware agreed.

Sir Guy and the rest were too easily swayed, their allegiance either bought or bartered. Better to hold them here until Garrick came back. He could deal with the traitors.

“Take everyone into the hallway and wait for me,” Ware ordered.

Clare, after scooping up the weapons lying on the floor, did as she was bid, shepherding Glyn and Cadell outside. But Springan refused to follow them outside the chamber. Instead she hung back with Ware and the knights. Ware started to tell her to leave, but noticed the silent plea in her gaze. He decided she had been through enough and should be allowed to make up her own mind.

Still holding a sword, he wiped the blood from his free hand on his tunic. The men shifted, and Ware eyed the disloyal lot of Garrick’s soldiers. “Try to escape and you’ll die,” he warned. “Mayhap, if you do as you’re told, Garrick will be easy on you.” The soldiers cast each other worried looks, but no one dared utter a word. Satisfied that they wouldn’t rise against him, Ware said, “’Tis done, then. We’ll have someone come for that” —he motioned to Joseph’s body— “and bury it.” He glanced at Springan, “Let’s go.”

Springan hesitated, eyeing the hated body of Joseph. “May the dogs of hell forever gnaw on your bones, ye bastard,” she said, spitting on Joseph’s bloated upturned face before whirling swiftly and marching through the door.

Ware doused the fire, then took the candles from their sconces. “You followed Strahan into darkness and therefore shall you dwell without light,” he said, proud of his words. Leaving the knights, he barred the door behind him.