they circled the mined fortress twice, in search of guards or watchmen, before leaping the crumbling wall. They crossed the barren courtyard, Roland's palms itching to feel a steel hilt, his shoulder aching for the butt of a crossbow. A moat, filled with green brackish water that appeared thick with filth and stunk to the heavens, surrounded the castle. The drawbridge was raised.
In days of old, they'd have fashioned a bridge of a freshly cut tree, a battering ram of another. Today, matters were much simpler. The two leapt the moat, side by side, and edged around the square stone shape of the keep, in search of a way to enter quietly. Both were careful to guard their thoughts, even from each other. A steel wall had been lowered around their minds. Lucien must not know of their approach.
It was difficult, for Roland knew that somewhere within these decaying stone walls, Rhiannon was imprisoned. Weakened, perhaps in pain. Were she well, she'd have torn the place apart by now, and Lucien along with it. Her patience would have found its end.
They finally came to a small opening in the stone, a window, which had never seen glass. Roland clambered through, and stood, looking around him while Eric followed. The place was in ruin, no question.
The very walls were crumbling. The stone floors had spider webs of cracks, and huge gouges. It was black as pitch within the cold walls of this castle, but with his piercing night vision.
he made his way slowly forward, along decrepit corridors, his mind on Rhiannon.
His heart grew heavier with every echoing step he took. Surely these weak stone walls could not hold her in her normal state. How he wished to see her, enraged, bringing Lucien to his knees with the sheer force of her anger.
He closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. That he'd ever thought to tame her spirit was a joke. It was un tamable as she was. It was what made her Rhiannon.
After trekking through endless corridors and passages, they came to the top of a set of stone stairs, crumbling as they spiraled downward into what seemed the hub of the earth. The smells of dankness and decay assaulted him as they descended. The sounds of water trickling, of rodents scratching, and of their own steps, echoed in his ears.
She was here, in this hell, more than likely believing him dead.
Each step was placed with utmost care, as silently as possible.
Roland scarcely dared draw a breath for fear he would alert Lucien and incite the man to harm Rhiannon. God, the very thought of her here was enough to drive him mad. Was she imprisoned in some freezing, tiny cell? Was she, even now, shivering with the cold and with her grief over his own supposed demise? Was she drugged, weakened to the point of helplessness in the face of Lucien's brutality?
Had the bastard harmed her? Had he touched her? He'd die if he had, Roland vowed. He would die either way, he amended. The beast was loose, and Roland, for once, welcomed its presence. He'd tear Lucien limb from limb and take great pleasure in the tearing.
Eric touched his arm, and inclined his head. Only then did Roland hear the sounds of voices, echoing softly through the cavernous underworld. Like ghosts wandering aimlessly, the voices filtered toward them.
"Are you ready, then?"
"I'm ready, Lucien."Rhiannon's voice was weak, conveying the state of her body, and of her mind. The sound of it was a torment such as Roland had never known. He crept nearer.
"Remember, no tricks. If any harm comes to me, the boy will die where he is.
You understand that?"
"Yes.""Good."
"So I will bide my time, Lucien. And you will pay."There was the sound of grim laughter.
"I knew you'd be furious about the cat. The animal gave me no choice, Rhiannon. When it bounded in front of my car, the temptation was just too great for me."There was a pause.
"From the boy's reaction, you'd have thought I'd killed his dearest friend."
Roland stepped closer, still unable to see them, but he could hear more clearly. He heard Rhiannon's labored breathing, and then her voice, with the barest hint of her former spirit making her words quiver with rage.
"You didn't kill the cat. And when the boy is safe again, you might well become a snack for her."
"The cat survived? Then why are you still so angry?""Bastard!"
Rhiannon drew a deep, ragged breath. The argument seemed to be taxing whatever strength she still possessed.
"You know ... the cause of my anger. What you did to Pandora pales ...
beside your other crimes."She paused, breathing deeply, brokenly.
"You ... you've taken from me ... the only man I have ever loved."The final words were barely whispered, and the evidence of tears was clear in her voice.
Roland stood stock-still when those words floated toward him through the darkness. He closed his eyes as a horrible pain washed over him, and only stirred again when Eric's voice urged him on.
"Steady, my friend. You'll get used to the idea."
He swallowed hard, and began moving silently forward. The shock of Rhiannon's admission faded as his rage, again, began to build.
"I will avenge Roland, Lucien,"she whispered."Make no mistake."
"You leave me no choice but to be sure you never get the chance, Rhiannon.
One would almost think you had a death wish."
"Take care."Her words were weak and faint.
"For I have nothing left to lose."
There was the sound of chains rattling. Then a strangled gasp.
"Feel the tip of this needle in your side, Rhiannon? If I get the slightest notion you are trying to bleed me dry, I'll depress the plunger.
There's a large enough dose to kill you in seconds."
They rounded a corner, and Roland saw the nightmarish scene laid out before him, illuminated only by the harsh, flickering light of a single torch.
Rhiannon, all but limp, supported more by the chains at her wrists, than by her own power. Her eyes were hooded and moist with pain, without light of any kind. Desolate. Her hair hung over one side of her face. The hem of the deep blue kimono was dampened and dirty.
Facing her, his back to them, Lucien stood with legs planted apart, his fist gripping the hypodermic that was jabbed into her side, right through the flowing kimono she wore. He gave it an evil twist and she whimpered, too weak to cry aloud.
Roland lunged, but Eric gripped his arm.
"If you attack now, he'll kill her."The words were whispered harshly into Roland's ear.
"We have to get him to remove that damned needle before we touch him."
The sight of Rhiannon suffering riled him, but he knew his friend's words to be true. He glanced around, seeing in all directions in the inky blackness.
Far above, more chains dangled from a towering ceiling. Roland could guess at their torturous purposes there. He nudged Eric, and pointed.
Eric nodded.
"Can you get up there without a sound?"
I'll know in a moment. Can you get Lucien's attention without costing Rhiannon's life? "
"I'd better, hadn't I?"
Roland drew a steadying breath and leapt upward, gripping a protruding stone high above, and anchoring the toe of one shoe in a chip in the wall. He glanced below, saw Eric watching, and gave him a single nod.
Eric stepped forward, out of the shadows, into the red-orange torchlight.
"Pardon me, Lucien, but you forgot to tell her a few things, didn't you?"
Lucien whirled, tearing the syringe from Rhiannon's waist as he did.
Her face contorted in pain. Her cry brought a convulsion to Roland's stomach.
"Marquand, isn't it? Rogers told me about you."Lucien lifted the needle like a weapon, clutched in a beefy fist, and started forward.
"Before you killed him, you mean?"
Roland waited. He needed a bit more space between Rhiannon and the point of that needle.
Lucien glanced over his shoulder at Rhiannon. She only hung, all but limp in her chains, hopelessness etched into her face like chinks beaten into old armor.
"Shut up, Marquand."
"Afraid I'll spill the beans, are you? Once she knows, she won't be so cooperative, will she?"
Roland nodded in approval. Lucien would lose Rhiannon were to learn Jamey was safe and sound. I-would be forced to silence Eric.
"Knows ... what?"Rhiannon's head came up slowl Her eyes focused on Eric.
"Why, that Jamey"-- He stopped, sidesteppii Lucien's charge with all the grace of a matador dodgi a bull. Roland launched himself from the toehold in the wall, soaring above the stone floor, catching the danglix length of rusted chain. It swung with the force of his momentum, carrying him swiftly onward.
He let go a secol later, and plunged downward, onto Lucien's broad bac Both men crashed to the floor, Lucien landing faced ox with Roland's weight atop him.
Lucien's hand, still gripping the hypodermic, twist and turned, straining backward in a doomed attempt stab Roland. Roland rose, one knee pressed into the center of the much larger man's spine. He clamped a hand Lucien's wrist, and squeezed until he felt the subtle crac of bone giving way. With a shriek, Lucien released 1 hold on the syringe. And even then, Roland didn't let t bastard up. The beast within wanted vengeance, and it x on the rampage.
A little more pressure and you can break his spine as easily. Snap it in two. Just press the knee a harder."Roland?"
He lifted his gaze from the quivering heap of flesh t neath him, and saw Rhiannon staring as if she were see' a ghost. The beast within seemed to dissolve in that instant. He no longer thirsted for vengeance, only for l For her touch, the feel of her lips beneath his, the si: of her half smile and the mischief in her eyes.
He stood, aware that Lucien rolled to his back clutched his shattered wrist with his other hand. He paid no attention, knowing Eric would see to the bastard. His only concern was for her as he moved slowly forward. Her eyes widened. Her lips parted slowly and she mouthed his name again, though no sound emerged this time.
He reached her, then, and his arms went around her. Oh, to feel her, living, breathing, her strong heart pounding against his chest! He cradled her head to the crook of his neck, threading his fingers in her silken hair, words tumbling from his lips without thought, or even order. Here was where she belonged. In his arms, her body pressed to his. He felt he could never release her.
She lifted her head and her eyes moved over his face with such intensity he could nearly feel their touch.
"I ... I thought..."Her hands came then, following the path of her eyes, touching his face as if not believing it was real. The chains jangled with her movements.
"I know,"he whispered.
"I know. I dared not answer you, knowing that one's psychic strength."He caught one of her wrists in his hands, drew it downward, away from his face, and easily snapped the manacle.
As it clattered down, slamming into the wall, he reached for the other."Has he hurt you, Rhiannon? Has he touched you.9""Nothing ... could hurt me...
more than believing ... I'd lost you."
Their eyes met for a long moment, and Roland wondered how he'd failed before to see the love in hers. He must have been blind.
Unsure what to say in the face of such powerful feelings, uncertain what this meant to either of them, Roland dropped to one knee and snapped the shackles at her ankles. Her arms came to his shoulders, and then her weight when she tried to step away from the wall. He scooped her up with minimal effort.
Her head fell limply to his shoulder, and he closed his eyes in exquisite agony. God, but it was sweet to hold her again.
Eric tossed the now-unconscious Lucien aside, and came to stand beside them.
"I should have killed him,"Roland muttered, gazing toward the man on the floor of his own dungeon.
Eric lifted one brow, and tilted his head toward Lucien."Go right ahead, my friend. He can't even resist, at the moment. I'm sure, beast that you claim to be, it won't bother you in the least to lean over and crush his larynx.
Only take a moment. Go on. I'll take Rhiannon for you."
Roland glanced down at Lucien once more, then at the woman in his arms. He couldn't murder a man in cold blood. In battle, yes. He'd take great pleasure in fighting Lucien to the death. But not like this. He eyed Eric, and sighed.
"I suppose there is a lesson in there somewhere, my friend. But all I wish now is to take Rhiannon out of this place."
He started back through the dungeon, and then up the crumbling stairs, leaving Lucien to his own devices. Likely a mistake, but there it was.
She rested in his gentle, unfaltering embrace, sometimes conscious, sometimes not. She knew little of the exact process by which they'd arrived, only that in what seemed little time at all, they were entering the great hall of the Castle Courtemanche, to the cries and embraces of Tamara, and Jamison, and Freddy.
A low snarl drew Rhiannon's gaze downward. Pandora limped through the little gathering, her foreleg wrapped in a plaster cast. She rose on hind legs, her good forepaw on Rhiannon's chest, and nuzzled her mistress's cheek with a cold nose.
Rhiannon stroked the cat's face.
"Pandora, my kitty, you're home.
Yes, yes, it's good to see you, too, love."She kissed the cat's muzzle, before Roland shooed her away.
"We picked her up on the way back,"Tamara said softly, crowding forward much as the cat had, to stroke Rhiannon's hair away from her forehead.
"I wanted her to be here to greet you when Roland brought you home."The young one frowned, her gaze concerned.
"Are you all right?"
Rhiannon smiled her assurance that she was, though she felt far from all right. She was rapidly growing weary, resenting the powerful effects of the drug. She sought out Jamey's face, and reached out to him.
"Jamison. I was so afraid for you."
He looked at the floor.
"I'm sorry. I almost got you killed.., again."
She shook her head, but Roland turned away from them, striding down the vaulted corridor toward his chambers, with her in his arms.
"We'll all have time to talk later. She needs rest now."As he spoke, he looked down at her face.
She searched his, wondering at the uncertainty, the endless questions in his eyes. He seemed almost afraid of something. A most unusual state of being for one so valiant. Moments later, he was lowering her onto the bed, tucking her beneath the brilliant yellow comforter, propping her head and shoulders with the pillows she'd purchased such a short time ago, but seemed like aeons.
"Roland."She reached up to cup his face in one unsteady palm.
"I have much to tell you."
"Shh. I want you to rest. By tomorrow evening, you'll be feeling like your old self again, I promise. We can talk then."
"My old self?"She blinked slowly, recalling her promise to whatever gods might be listening. She would lose him unless she could keep her vow. She knew that beyond any doubt.
"No, Roland. I'll never be"-- He hushed her with a gentle finger upon her lips.
"Rest, little bird.
We'll talk later."
"Yes."She let the heaviness of her eyelids pull them down, no longer wishing to fight off sleep.
"Yes, we can talk later."
But she was not herself again when she rose the following evening.
Nor did she return to normal in the following days. Stronger, yes, Roland observed in the great hall. There was no longer the film of drug-induced stupor covering her diamond-bright eyes. But the mischief wasn't there, either. Or the taunting, or the come-hither gaze he'd half expected to see.
She was like a shadow of her former self. Quiet, exceedingly polite, refusing to argue, no matter what stupid remark he made to incite her.
Roland leaned sideways, elbowing Eric's middle.
"Do you suppose there are lingering side effects to Rogers's tranquilizer?"
Eric cocked one eyebrow.
"Why do you ask?"
"Look at her. She's quiet, almost ... timid. She's been like this damn near a week now."As he spoke, Roland glanced again toward Rhiannon. She sat in an oversize chair Roland had hauled down from one of the storage rooms above, staring into the flames of the huge hearth, seemingly absorbing the fire's warmth in the chill room. She absently stroked the head of the cat that lay at her side.
Eric shrugged.
"I suppose she might still be a bit shaken..."
"Rhiannon doesn't get shaken."
"Hush, she'll hear you,"Tamara whispered, crossing the room with Jamey at her side.
"And this is no time to upset her. Jamey's father will be here any minute.
We don't want him walking in on one of her indignant speeches, do we?"
"I'd pay to hear one of her speeches, right about now,"Roland muttered, but they moved as a group nearer the fire, and the various chairs situated around it.
"The great hall looks much nicer, Rhiannon. You've done wonders."
Rhiannon looked up, smiled softly and continued stroking the cat.
"Yes,"Eric said, picking up where Tamara had left off.
"All the candles and lamps soften the harsh stone, and the curtains and rugs are in perfect taste. Don't you agree, Roland?"
Roland only nodded, watching Rhiannon's face, a frown tightening his own.
"I still think it would have been better if you'd let her hang your paintings, Roland,"Tamara said.
Roland shrugged. He did, too. He'd only refused Rhian-non when she'd asked because he'd been sure she would argue and fuss and fight with him until he conceded. He'd been looking forward to fighting with her. He missed it.
Instead, she'd only nodded in acceptance and not asked again. He felt like screaming at her.
He watched her, watching him.
"It's lovely, yes. And a shame we won't be able to remain here longer. But with Lucien still alive, and knowing our whereabouts, it will be better if we all move on."He studied the way her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass.
At last, he thought, as her knuckles whitened in evidence of her fierce grip.
"I can think of no other solution. Can you, Rhiannon?"
For an instant, the fire flared in her eyes, so brilliar feared sparks would leap out to burn holes in her rugs.
"The solution,"she said, back stiffening, chin ing, "would be to find that sniveling worm of a and..."She blinked rapidly, looking at each of thex turn.
Then she sunk back into her chair like a ball slowly deflating, and shook her head.
"Whatever you cide to do is fine with me, Roland."
Roland pressed two fingers to his forehead, Tamara shot Eric a concerned look. Eric only shool head.
A heavy knock sounded throughout the room, Rhiannon rose with her ever-present grace. Her long billowed around her, touching no part of her legs or gJ any clue to her shape as she moved. Its waist was cin( but the blouson bodice drooped over the waistline. neck was high, and buttoned all the way. Worst of all hair, her glorious, raven's wing hair, was twisted il sleek knot at the back of her head.
Give her a pair of wire specs and some button-up s and she'd be the picture of a nineteenth-century sc mistress.
She touched Jamey's arm.
"You know Roland onl: this for you."
"I know."Jamey touched his pocket, the one he knew held the letter from his father that had been waiting here upon their return from the mountain. He hadn' expected his solicitor to find the man so easily, or that would reply so soon.
"I'm not angry. I think ... I need to do this."
Rhiannon stroked Jamison's hair, then hugged her. A second later, Tamara rushed forward to d, same, while Rhiannon opened the door.
The man who stood there was six inches shorter she. His build suggested an active life-style, but his dark hair was short, and thin, and he wore round glasses perched on his nose. His eyes were the kindest Roland thought he had ever seen, and they focused only briefly on the beauty at the door, danced once around the great hall and the people within it, then homed in on Jamey, and glowed with emotion.
For a long moment, the two only stared at each other. Several letters and phone calls had been exchanged by now, so they were not quite strangers.
Roland had to respect James Knudson's easygoing methods.
He hadn't tried to convince Jamey to become his son overnight.
Instead, he'd invited the boy to spend a few weeks at his home in California.
To get to know his stepmother, and half brother. And Jamey had agreed.
Roland felt his throat tighten when Jamey moved forward. He stopped before his father, and for a moment the two simply stared at each other. Then the man clasped the boy in a fierce hug, and they clung for a time. When they stepped apart, James Knudson removed his glasses and pressed a thumb and forefinger to his eyes.
It hurt to know he would lose the boy to his father. But it was right, and Roland had known it for some time now. The man was a junior varsity soccer coach, for God's sake. What more could a boy wish for?
Jamey turned and met Roland's gaze.
"F-father, this is Roland. He's saved my life ... more than once, now."
Jamey bit his lip.
"And this is Eric, and Tamara, and Rhiannon."He faced each of them in turn, his eyes dampening.
James cleared his throat, obviously a bit confused by the eccentric setting, and the formal clothing all but Ta-mara wore. But he stepped forward and shook each hand firmly.
"I know how much you all mean to ... to my son."
He shook Roland's hand last, and longest.
"I'm more grateful than I can tell you. If you hadn't searched for me, I might never have known I had a son."
Roland nodded. He couldn't have replied had he wished to. His throat was too tight.
Tamara stepped forward, speaking in his place.
"Remember, we love him, Mr. Knudson. And that this is only a trial run. The decision to stay with you must be entirely Jamey's."
He nodded.
"I would never try to force myself on him, Miss, uh, Tamara. I love him, too."
She met Jamey's gaze, then hugged him once more."You know how to reach me if you need anything, kiddo."
"I know."Jamey hugged her in return, then released her and faced Roland.
"I'm, uh, I'm gonna miss you."
Roland's heart trembled in his breast.
"No, young man. I'll visit so often there will be no chance of that."
Jamey held out a hand, and Roland gripped it firmly and pumped twice.
The boy turned toward Pandora, who'd been sleeping near the hearth, and up until now hadn't made a sound. Jamey went to her, bent over and wrapped his arms around her neck. The cat's tail swished, and she rolled, pulling the boy with her. He sat up laughing, and the cat placed a paw upon his knee.
"Take care of them, Pandora."
The cat's green eyes seemed to assure him she would. Then Jamey rose and returned to his wide-eyed father. When the man could tear his eyes from the black panther, the two moved to the door, and stood in its opening.
"We'll be watching out for you, Jamey,"Rhiannon said softly.
Eric nodded.
"If you get into any danger, we'll know. You can count on it."
"Curt's gone now, so there will be no more harassment from him,"
Tamara whispered.
"And Rhiannon's computer-expert friend is going to erase all of your files from DPI's systems. It will be as if you never existed, to them."Roland stepped nearer Rhiannon as he spoke, needing someone close for this painful parting.
"You can enjoy yourself the way a four-teen-year-old ought to, with no more worry about cloak-and-dagger nonsense."
Jamey opened his mouth, then closed it. Instead of words, he moved back toward Roland and hugged him hard. Then he turned, walking quickly toward the door, and his father.
"I'm ready now."
His father clapped an arm around Jamey's shoulder. He glanced back at the others.
"I hope you'll stay in touch.""Rest assured, we will,"
Roland said.
The pair stepped out into the night, and the door swung slowly closed behind them. Eric folded Tamara into his arms. Roland wished he could do the same to Rhiannon, but he hesitated. She'd shown him no hint of encouragement since the incident with Lucien, and he knew her well enough to know she would have, if she wanted him.
Perhaps his hard heart had finally killed the love she'd once felt for him.
Why now, when he wanted it so desperately?
