Dragon Witch Series - Dragon Witch Part 21

"Your Adrian is very special, Tempest. As are you. You have the power, if you become one with your true love. Perfect love and perfect trust can defeat absolute evil."

"But why are you here?" She was shaken to the core with his revelations. "Have you come to help?"

"I am here because your pure heart called out to me. I can do no more than advise you."

"Tell me what I must do."

"You know what you must do, Tempest. Follow your heart.

Dream a golden dragon." His body s.h.i.+mmered, the soft white light surrounding it faded, and he was gone.

Shocked silence overtook the couple as they gazed into the glowing crystal ball. The man looked at the woman, his gold-flecked blue eyes locked with her soft brown eyes.

She reached out and took his large hand in hers, raised it to her lips and gently kissed the palm.

"Perfect love and perfect trust," she whispered and smiled.

TWENTY-FOUR.

The candle Tempest carried gave scant light as she cautiously made her way down the steps. The stairs to the dungeon, unlike those of the upper chambers, were wide and led straight down to the lower floor. There would be no need to defend this part of the keep should they be attacked. Prisoners would be the last concern for a castle under siege.

In truth, Tempest had rarely seen the dungeons used.

Wendall was a kind lord and treated everyone with wisdom and respect. She could not remember a time when there had been a murder on the grounds.

Until Miriam...G.o.ddess, how she missed Miriam. But Tempest knew she must put her grief aside for now. She was worried about Adrian. She had to find him, had to get him out of this foreboding place.

The floor was damp, and the air smelled strongly of mold and animal droppings. She s.h.i.+vered as she made her way carefully along the corridor leading to the farthest cells. There were no fires burning for heat, and no rushlights lit her way.

An errant breeze snuffed her candle, and she was left alone in the stygian darkness.

She shuddered as something soft and furry brushed her ankle just above her short leather boots. She tried to inch silently away from the creature, but it followed, and the fur again brushed her ankle. She almost tripped in her haste to get away but it seemed to know her mind. Wherever she stepped the creature waited. Panic clutched her throat, and she could not have screamed if her life depended upon it.

Tempest stopped and waited. No fur. No animal. Hesitantly she moved a step forward. Fur brushed her ankle. There was

an almost familiar pattern to the animal's movements. She took another step forward. Again the animal wove itself sinuously around first one ankle then the other. She could feel vibrations coming from its body but it made no sound, as though it knew the necessity of silence in that forbidding place.

She picked up Monster and hugged him close, planting a loving kiss upon his tiny head. He meowed loudly at her blatant show of affection, and her eyes frantically scanned the inky s.p.a.ce, fearing a guard may have heard the kitten. But there was no guard. The dungeon was ominously silent.

Monster meowed again, louder this time.

A chain rattled nearby. "Monster?" Adrian's voice was loud in the darkness, and Tempest jumped.

"Adrian?" Tempest spoke softly. "Speak again so I may find you. But quietly. There may be guards about."

"There are no guards." His voice was softer. "They left after they accomplished their duty...and more."

She followed his voice and came to the cell which housed him.

Tempest put Monster down and lit her candle with the small flint she always carried hooked to her girdle. She held the candle up to the small open peephole in the door but its feeble light cast no glow into the blackness of the room. The heavy iron door was bolted. She slipped the bolt and stepped into the room.

The stench was overpowering. The smell of moldy straw, dank, stale air and blood flooded over her, making her wretch.

Fearfully, she raised her candle. Adrian was chained to the rough-cut, rock wall. His huge body sagged, his arms were pulled above his head by chains which cut deeply into his bare wrists. His clothing had been torn from his body and, as she stepped closer, she could see marks crisscrossing his chest and stomach. In the dim candlelight she saw huge dark blotches from thigh to ankle, and she prayed it was only dirt. As she moved to stand in front of him she knew her prayers were in vain. His head was bent, his long blond hair was matted with filth and something darker. She raised her hand to brush his hair back, and he lifted his head to look at her.

"Tempest," he said weakly, his eyes cloudy and pain-filled.

"I did not kill her."

"I know, beloved," she murmured, gently touching his stubbled cheek. "You are the most gentle man I have ever known. You loved her." She pulled her hand back, afraid to touch his battered face.

"My father will pa.s.s judgment in the morn, Adrian. 'Twill be a harsh one, for he does not know you as I do. I have come to free you." She pulled a large ring of keys from the deep pocket of her surcoat.

"They will not miss the keys?"

"The guards were careless," she answered quietly. "They apparently love wine more than their duty to my father. They will be punished when you are found gone."

Tempest unlocked the ankle chains first, then reached for his manacled arms. When she unlocked the first wrist, his arm fell heavily to his side, and he gasped with pain.

"I do not know if I can stand, Tempest," he grated, barely clinging to consciousness.

She lifted his arm and carefully draped it over her shoulder.

"Lean on me. I can hold you. I have done so before.

Remember?"

His short bark of weak laughter surprised her. "You dropped me," he gasped. "Right under that tree."

"Well, there are no trees here," she laughed softly. "And I will not again let you fall." She unlocked the last manacle, and he sagged heavily against her. True to her word, Tempest managed to hold him up. She lowered him gently to the filthy, straw-covered floor.

They froze at the sound of footsteps. She scrambled to blow out the candle which she had placed a safe distance from the straw, then felt her way back to Adrian's side and tightly clasped his hand.

"You must leave, little one. They must not find you here.

You will die with me if they do."

"I will not leave you again," she whispered. "Your fate shall be mine."

"Tempest," he groaned, but could say no more as she laid her hand across his mouth. They trembled as the footsteps

neared.

The bright glare of rushlight momentarily blinded them.

"'Twould seem my little sister must ever play the rescuer of gentlemen in distress," Tristan's voice drawled. "But, I ask you, Tempest...Must he always be naked, or nearly so?"

"Tris!" Tempest exclaimed, rus.h.i.+ng to embrace him. "You should not be here! If they catch you, your fate will surely be the same as ours."

"Hush, little sister." He laughed quietly. "Fate is a fickle creature. A man cannot worry about what she will do next. You are much more trouble than the Lady Fate."

"You came to rescue Adrian," Tempest stated.

"Aye."

"But why? Why go against Father for a man you scarcely know?"

"I know you love him, Tempest," he said, affection glowing from green eyes so like her own. "For that reason alone I know he could not have killed our sweet Miriam."

Adrian's groan of pain drew their attention. Tempest hurried to kneel beside him. "We must hurry, Tris. He is sorely wounded. But how can we get him to safety? There are so many steps from here to the upper level, and he is very weak.

The great hall is full tonight. I am afraid he will awaken someone if he cries out with pain."

"I will make no noise," said Adrian. "I am no babe who cries out at the slightest pain."

"Slightest?" Tempest snorted in disbelief. "You have been beaten and whipped and starved for days. Your pain cannot be called slight."

"'Tis slight," he answered stubbornly. "I have suffered worse in days gone by."

"You do not know that." Tempest was growing angry at his obstinacy. "You do not even remember your past so how could-"

"Children," Tristan interrupted before their discussion could erupt into a full-scale argument. "We do not have time for this. The night flies, and dawn soon approaches. We must hurry."

"But how?" Tempest queried, worry creasing her brow.

"We cannot go through the great hall."

"We often played here as children," Tristan stated. "We were able to get in and out without ever being seen.

Remember?"

"The mine tunnel?" she asked, disbelief written across her features. "But 'twas many years ago, Tris. It was crumbling then. It may be caved in by now."

"How do you think I got in here?" he asked, a c.o.c.ky grin on his face. "'Tis dirty and damp but still perfectly safe. And it leads outside the castle, where I have a horse and food waiting.

I am sorry I did not think to bring clothing though. I did not think they would take his clothes. Can yon hero make it?"

"Aye." Adrian rose painfully to his feet, swaying, dangerously close to collapse. Tempest hurried to his side to steady him.

Tristan removed his heavy woolen cape and draped it over Adrian's shoulders, pinning it at his neck with a plain silver brooch. "Does this man never wear clothes?" he muttered under his breath as he led the way out the door.

Just as Tempest remembered from her childhood, the mine tunnel entrance was well concealed; the small iron door covering the entrance stood open. Tristan and Adrian had to duck to enter, and the pa.s.sageway ahead was narrow, the ceiling low. Tristan led, using his torch to light the way.

The carved stone tunnel led down for a short way, then leveled off, but they still had to duck their heads in the cramped s.p.a.ce. Tempest was sincerely thankful she had not grown that much taller in the years since she had left childhood behind.

Adrian, being the tallest of the three, had the most trouble.

His whole body was wracked with pain and he was fast losing what little strength he had left. He did not complain, just kept putting one foot down after the other as he plodded along behind Tristan. He hoped with all his heart, that he could stay conscious until they reached the end of this nightmarish journey.

Tempest was worried about him. She could see his strength was ebbing and feared she and Tristan would have to carry him. She did not remember this tunnel being so cramped nor

so long.

Tristan stopped suddenly, and Adrian almost stumbled into him.

"The ladder," said Tristan, turning to look at Adrian. "We can rest a moment before descending."

Adrian's pride would not let him stop. "We can rest when we get out of this h.e.l.lhole."

"I need to rest," said Tempest, knowing the reason for his refusal to stop. "You can go on ahead if you wish, but I am stopping here." She sat down and leaned against the tunnel wall.

"Me too," Tristan agreed after studying Adrian's pale features. "'Tis tiring to walk all bent over for so long." He also sat and leaned against the hard wall.

Adrian knew what they were doing but did not make an issue of it. He desperately needed the respite. Gingerly he lowered himself to the cold stone floor and looked around him.

The stone walls were carved roughly, as if done in haste. Winter had chilled the tunnel, and he could see his breath as he exhaled.

Ice crystals had formed on the cold, damp walls. They glittered in the rushlight, making him think he had entered the land of faerie.

But the floor felt colder than death, and he s.h.i.+vered.

"Adrian?" Tempest laid her delicate hand on his arm. Her touch blazed like a Beltane bonfire.

He lifted her hand to his lips and placed a gentle kiss upon it. "I am all right, little one," he said quietly, then, still holding her soft hand in his, he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. "Why would anyone build such a place?" he wondered idly.

"About two hundred and fifty years ago," Tristan began, "the land around here was not as peaceful as it is now. There were many battles for domination, and siege was often laid to a castle to accomplish that end. At that time, Alexander Sanct Joliet was lord of the manor and a better tactician than most.

Darrin of Kondray laid siege to this castle, and it lasted for almost three years.

"Castle Windhaven is built on the ruins of an old motte