Really?
How else could a woman blend into a mans world? Hes different, she said, as she turned to place the mercenary in eyesight. Dark, yet peaceful.
Indeedbut she spent all her time observing men? For some reason that information set a tickle to the back of Baldwins neck. What did she do when she observed these men? Did she think, wellthings about them? When could she have had the time?
So you watch menall the time? Have you ever, er he drew a wide arc in the snow with his boot toe, trying to act nonchalant observed me?
Certainly. Her summation of his expression worked a catty wink and a one-sided smirk to her thick lips. Castle dAnges reluctant postulant, who spends the hours he should be studying religion in the battlements watching the knights practice in the lists. He drinks the holy water after the abbe Belloc has left the chapel
Baldwin stifled a gasp.
And, Sera continued, he attracts the women with a mere curl of his lips and a roguish wink.
Baldwin released his held breath. You have observed all that?
Aye. You are lithe, agilenow that you have mastered your growing legs
Not quite, but Im working on it. And about that holy water
She smiled, freely. Andunless it has to do with religious pursuitsyou are ever willing to please and learn. Very much opposite our mercenary. For some reason I feel San Juste has no need to learn, that he possesses wisdom untold.
Quite an observation for a morning spent fuming.
Aye. She punched a fist into the birch trunk. You have had your say then, squire. Forgive my rude treatment of you this morning. I remove the curse of the evil eye. Though, I shall not forgive you for inviting the mercenary along.
But what is wrong with seeking help? And moreso, with allowing softer emotions?
Her mood quickly changing again, she slammed a clenched fist to her breast and croaked out in her battle-roughened voice, This heart will not feel until all the de Mortes lie six feet under. And if you can even think I will bat my lashes at the very man sent to kill me, youve eaten one too many poison toads in your lifetime, squire. Now come, we are leaving San Juste behind.
Oh? And you think he will just sit there and allow us to ride away? Where, then, are you two off? he mocked the mercenarys proposed question. Oh, we favor a head-start before you fell us with your sword.
Sera paced in the snow before him, chewing her lip and punching her fist in her glove. The scaled platelets of armor riveted along each finger chinked. Erratic the rhythm. Sounsure about this new challenge.
Men dont do that, Baldwin commented. She looked to him and he gestured to her mouth. Chew their lips.
She released hold of her lip. Baldwin noticed that what had once been plump pink mounds to tempt every mans dreams of passion were now cracked and dry. Winter and the stress of battle had taken a toll on this precious angel.
Dominique had been right at guessing she was ill. But twas not a physical malady that darkened her eyes, but a ghost of weeks ago. A ghost that clung to her with horrid memories of the first night of the New Year.
We must be rid of him.
Sera, you mean Baldwin sliced a hand across his throat in horrific display.
It is the only way. She gripped her sword hilt and slithed the blade in and out of the steel scabbard. I must take him out before he assassinates the black knight.
What could they possibly be discussing beneath the skeletal bower of birch branches? Dominique unwrapped the leather reins from around his gauntlet, then draped them between his thumb and forefinger. Perhaps he should skrit over there?a series of movements so agile and quick, not even an ultra-alert deer could sense his presence.
No. He wrapped the reins tight again. He didnt have time for tricks. Much as he had enjoyed conversing with the squire for the past few hours, he highly doubted the other would suddenly be gifted with the urge to speak any more than a few mumbles.
Though, the twosome were involved in a very animated conversation at the moment.
Hmm Were his suspicions true? Could they possibly know something about the black knight? Mention of the mythical knight had been what set dAnge into a sudden flurry of motion.
Dominique pricked his ears. He could not hear them talking from here. The only audible sound was Tors bursts of breath through gray velvet nostrils, and the press of the beasts heavy hooves into the snow-packed ground. And Dominiques own tense breathing.
Just ride, his conscience implored. You do not require conversation. Ride on to Creil and locate the black knight. End your own search for answers that much quicker.
Easier to think than to actually do.
Creil was a good-sized village, set apart from the imposing walls of Abaddons fortified battlements. Would the black knight be so foolish to just ride in to Creil, all glorious black armor and sword held high? The de Mortes had to be fully aware of who, or what, had taken down the first two brothers.
No, if the man had any sense to him at alland Dominique highly questioned that for the brazen acts of riding into battle and felling two of Frances most notorious villainssurely he would lie low. A sneak attack this time. There were no rumors of a siege on Abaddons part. Dominique had not been alerted to such. And he would know as soon as the idea had birthed in the de Morte camp. For the Oracle was a relentless visitor.
It was decided. He would be off. Those two could offer no information that would help Dominique. He suspected something sinister between the squire who claimed to be a postulant and his mysterious partner. But that was of a personal nature; it did not concern him.
San Juste! Dismount!
Dominique jumped at the sound of the rasping command, which set Tor to a nervous stamp.
Is there a problem? Dominique wondered, as he slid from Tors back and his boots crunched upon the hard-packed trail. A glance to his heels reassured hed not exposed himself with a cloud of telltale coruscation.
Yes, there is a problem, dAnge announced. He paced before Dominique, his scaled black gauntlet working around his sword hilt. But it shall be solved soon enough. Bertram!
DAnges sword was drawn in a sing of steel. Dominique was fleetingly aware that the squire led Tor away from him and dAnge. The instinct to unsheathe his own sword worked the action before he realized he stood at the ready to defend himself.
Defend himself?
What say you this problem? Dominique barked. Is it me?
Indeed. DAnge stalked the ground before him, carefully measuring his strides as each step closed him in to Dominique. You seek the black knight?
With a simple reply clinging to his tongue, Dominique bent to dodge the sweep of dAnges broadsword. A quick riposte brought the blade of finely tempered steel back his way. Had Dominique not stepped back his head would be rolling toward Tors hooves.
I, Antoine dAnge rasped, am the black knight.
You?
Seeing his challengers overhead hammer-drop slash toward him, Dominique swung his blade to the left, caught the tip in his gloved hand, and thrust it above his head to block the blow. The jar of contact rippled through his bones and shuddered to his feet.
Morganas blood, but the man had a powerful thrust!
But what the man had just announced. It could not be. Him, the black knight? Not this man, thisgangly excuse for a man. Especially a man he suspected to be something entirely different, at least regarding his sexual nature. Certainly not the type to become a knight, let alone, the legendary black knight.
Though he did have strength
Drawing his sword arm down, Dominiques blade slashed over the chain mail tunic that clung loosely to dAnges lithe torso. The hindrance of the tightly meshed rings stymied his intentions and his sword merely slipped, steel over steel.
Careful! Baldwin yelled from where he stood by the trio of horses.
Dominique figured twas not he for whom the squire was concerned. But should the man not have more faith in his master?
There was something very odd about his opponent. Dominique could feel it through to his bones. And it was not that he suspected the knight and squire shared the same bed. Indeed, the mans effeminate mannerisms in the tavern returned to thought now. So delicately hed held his meatwith slender hands
By all that is sacredcould he be?
Why do you seek to stop the man who wishes to aid you in your efforts? Dominique yelled. He ducked. Another slash of steel whooshed over his head.
Aid me? Is that what you call murder then?
Murder? I no more wish to murder you than I wish my own heart to cease beating. Which it yet may if you are successful in this twisted attack. Cease, man! I surrender.
There is no surrender but death!
The heavy blade of his opponents steel skimmed Dominiques thigh. Pain-heat pinged and shivered in his serrated flesh. The blade had sliced through his leather braies.
Still the attack did not cease. Did you hear me? I dont wish you harm. Ive been sent by a higher power to ensure the black knight succeeds in exterminating the de Morte clan.
This time the angry dAnge heard. He tried to stop a forceful swing, but the sword pulled him forward, and he had to jab the tip into the snow to break his attack. A higher power? You speak insanity.
You think I am Lucifer de Mortes mercenary?
Can you prove otherwise?
Nay. What did the man require? A letter de cachet? The sacrifice of his head? I do not work for the devil. How dare you? I was called to serve the black knight by one who wishes him success. It is your puny hide Ive been sent to protect. And I see now why I was needed.
A higher power Antoine dAnge spat out. He paused, huffing in exertion has sent you to see the de Mortes are murdered?
I have been instructed not to interfere in your quest, only to navigate and to provide protection on your journey from one de Morte to the next.
What is this nonsense? A higher power? Do you speak of God? Forgetting his sword, the man splayed his arms before him and declared to all, Murder cannot be sanctioned by the church. What sort of god do you serve?
A god that tires of watching the de Mortes reign over the innocent men, women, and children of France. A god that confuses me as well, for he has chosen a gangly misfit of a man to bring down his greatest enemies. Are you sure you are the black knight? He looked to Baldwin. He is not, is he?
The squire stepped to his mount and lifted a wool blanket slung over the leather saddlebags. Beneath was revealed a collection of shimmering black armor.
It took an unnatural amount of control to keep his jaw from dropping at such a sight. Dominique swung back on his aggressor, who stood lean and lithe, yet heaving from a simple tryst of matched steel. Much as he could not believe itdid not want to believe itthis man truly was the legend whispered of in villages stretching from southern Corbeil to Paris and beyond. Hed expected a great and hulking man, virile and strong. A warrior. Notthis.
I need no protection. DAnge turned, retrieved his sword that had been stuck into the packed snow, and gestured to his squire that he mount. Take your sacrilegious beliefs and be gone with you. Creil is but a days ride. Abaddon de Morte awaits the end of his cruel reign.
Had he known the black knight would be so obstinate, Dominique might have refused the delectable offer the Oracle had used to coax him to such a task. But the fact remained, he had accepted. And he never surrendered to opposition. Tell me, black knight, how much do you know about Abaddon de Morte?
I know he is a bloodthirsty bastard, and the devils brother; there is nothing more necessary.
How had this fool man succeeded in murdering two de Mortes thus far? Dominique felt sure Abaddon would not be the third. Not when this knight planned to blindly ride into de Mortes fortress of clever ambushes and ensorceled traps.
So you are aware of the mans penchant for booby traps?
Already mounted, the knight regarded Dominique with a cold-air huff, and a nod to the squire to get on with it and mount as well.
You think you can just march into the mans castle and slay him in his own bed?
Dominique felt laughter most appropriate, and answered the call of humor. It felt good to draw in the cold air and fill his lungs. But this moment of mirth was oddly bittersweet.
What need I know about Abaddon de Morte that you cherish so to your breast?
Dominique crossed his arms over his chest. I will tell you, if you will allow me to protect you.
Never.
My lord. Baldwins voice sliced a sharp edge through the chill air. Perhaps it would do to hear the man out. If he knows things about Abaddon
Damnation! Already youve turned my squire against me, San Juste. And you wish me to put trust in you after such?
Dominique tilted his head back to meet the travelers eyes, shadowed by the dullness of cloud cover. Abaddon de Morte has many strengthsboth physical and occultthat will keep your blade far from his neck. He has a weakness as well.
The knights brow lifted. Considering. He smirked, pressed his thick lips together. Not a shadow of beard on the mans face. Could he be much more than a child? Insanity! That the peoples legend was a mere, why a mereDare he think it?
How do you know so much? rasped out of the black knights throat. Explain exactly why I should trust you and your misguided God.
Certainly the Oracle had not provided a means to ingratiate himself into the black knights trust. But trust was not necessary to provide protection. Though tolerance would be a fine trade-off.
I cannot say why, or even if trust is necessary. Only that you must take benefit of the knowledge I possess. We have a common goal, to see the de Morte clan terminated. You have taken down two-fifths thus far, I shall join you in the final rounds.
And how do you know what lies ahead? Have you spies? Inside the de Morte lairs?
Of a sort. Difficult to believe, Dominique offered, at surprised looks from both his traveling companions, but necessary.
Then why has nothing been done to stop the de Mortes until now? The knights steed pawed the ground, impatient as his master. Power and cold air pressed out from the horses nostrils with each puff of breath. Counterbalance to its masters fiery demeanor. With dAnges smoothing glove to its neck, the horse settled and turned its master back to face Dominique. Why? When so many have suffered and died at the hands of such demons?