"Aye, that 'tis." Another, lower, voice responded to the high-pitched intonation of one of the scullery maids. The girls giggled; it was an irritating sound that echoed in the confining, stone walls of the corridor.
A chill crept eerily through Allyriane Kennaird as she waited just inside her bedchamber, her back flush against the door, her ear pressed against the thick wooden barrier. Allyriane's sense of foreboding sharpened, urging her to escape, but she could not take the chance of being seen, not even by the serving girls giggling on the other side of the door.
She couldn't have picked a better night to escape, this last night before her wedding. The clouds were thick and the threat of a brewing storm would surely wash away her scent. If she could just manage to flee the keep unnoticed, all would be well. The girl's footsteps receded down the passage, but Allyriane did not move. She had to be certain no one else was in the corridor. If her father or Ransford, her betrothed, caught her trying to flee, they would surely tie her up and guard her until the wedding took place tomorrow afternoon.
Seconds passed, then minutes, before Allyriane gathered the courage to open her door a half-inch and peer down the hall. Lanterns hang from the crossbeams, casting shadows along the stony passage. Allyriane cringed in the light. What was usually a benefit now left her at a disadvantage. No one was about, however, and sighing softly to herself in relief, she crept out of her room and down the hall. She had to hurry. Her best friend Lindsea would be worried if she wasn't at the arranged meeting place in time.
The back stairs were dark, and she nearly tripped in her rush to be down them. They twisted and turned so awkwardly, a stranger would have a hard time finding his way in the pitch. Allyriane was no stranger to these stairs. She had used them often in her youth to escape her father's rage. His bulk could not make it around the narrow twists and the stairs had saved her from many a bruise and bleeding backside. She could only pray that they would save her from marrying Byrne Ransford, who had the reputation of a dark entity. Allyriane felt his gloomy vibrations every time he was near and his staring black eyes and groping hands gave her reason to avoid him at all cost. It was rumored amongst the servants that he had taken a lass of barely eleven years old to his bed the year before, and had used her body so poorly that the youth had died nigh onto a fortnight after her introduction to Ransford's lust.
Allyriane shuddered at the turn in her thoughts as she approached the first floor. Suddenly she heard voices on the other side of the wall of the staircase and she knew that it could only be her father and that...that man. Ransford. No one else would be up so late in the night. Allyriane knew the intricate stairwell so well that she knew exactly where the two men were in the keep. They were in the great hall, seated on the dais. The stairs ran right past the lord's seat and down into the caverns below.
Pausing on the steps, she attempted to make out their words. Though she recognized their voices and the differing fluctuations in their cadence, she could not hear what they were discussing. Or whom. Her skin prickled, and she couldn't shake the feeling that Byrne knew she was nearby. She heard the bench scrape against the stone floor on the other side of the wall and knew it was Byrne who rose. Her sire's seat didn't make such a sound when he rose; she knew well that particular noise from many years of anxiously tracking her fathers every move.
Allyriane realized the talking had ceased and she took off like a bird in flight, down the last two flights of stairs, down underground, beneath the castle.
She shook nervously as she crossed the slippery, narrow stone landing to the water's edge. Spotting the small vessel she had planned to use to make her escape, she rushed to it. The captain of the guard, Ralston, had come through for her after all, though she never truly doubted him. He had first served at her mother's keep when she was young, and he was loyal to her mother, Lianne Kennaird and not to her father, Gresham, although that fact was well-hidden by necessity. Ralston had been placed at Kennaird Castle upon Lianne's marriage. Allyriane saw that a dark cloak lay in the bottom of the boat as well as a sturdy pair of boots, just as she had requested. She made the sign of the cross with a trembling hand and blessed Ralston's old, loving heart.
Allyriane quickly shed the slippers she wore and pulled the heavy pair of boots on over her thick woolen stockings. She donned the cloak and stepped into the boat, her fingers working desperately to undo the knot that anchored the boat to the landing. The knot was almost free when a shadow fell across her where she rocked in the boat.
"There you are, Wife. I have been searching for you." His voice was cold, cold enough to freeze Allyriane's heart.
"I am no man's wife. Certainly not yours, Ransford. I know the evil you do." The knot came undone just in time and Allyriane grasped the oars with quaking hands. She pushed the oars into the murky water and...nothing. The boat did not move. Allyriane could not move, could not breathe. Byrne, his eyes shining eerily in the gloom, approached the edge of the landing. He stood over her, laughing at her weakness as she strained to pull the oars through the water.
"You will be my wife in word tomorrow, but tonight, tonight you will become my wife in fact." Byrne leaned over and pulled the oars from her hands, dropping them into the dark water. Then he lifted her from the boat, grasping her roughly around the shoulders. "You thought you could escape me? I know all, wench, I see all."
Allyriane, unable to move in his embrace, felt frozen and weak. Byrne made his way to the stairs, and as she hung over his shoulders, she let herself go limp and closed her mind to her terror. She slowly gained her strength as she abandoned her fear. Seconds later she had a fistful of his hair and she pulled so hard a thick clump came out in her hand.
"Abelard's whore!" Byrne bellowed, throwing her down against the stairs as he reached up to touch his head where she had tore the hair free.
Allyriane felt the sharp edge of the stone steps tear the skin from the palm of her hand as she threw it out in front to catch herself. The clump of Byrne's hair she held in her fist had fallen from her hand, and it lay close to where she cut her hand on the steps. She didn't have time to examine the wound or her small patch of victory as she quickly flipped herself over to watch the angry man's approach. I must escape before he uses me. Even if she managed to avoid marrying the beast, no other man would want a tainted woman. If this man takes my virginity, he will steal my soul with it. The thought made her scramble to her feet and she made it up two steps before Byrne caught her trailing golden hair and yanked her backwards down the stairs.
Crying out, Allyriane stumbled into Byrne's arms. His arms were heavy and cold and his breath on her neck was like ice. "Let me go!" She stiffened her spine and ignored Byrne's hands as they came around to cup her breasts. "Let me go, you vile, stinking toad! I am not yours! I never agreed to this...betrothal."
"Shut up, my whore. When I am through with you, you will wish you father had taken the time to break you in properly. Too bad for you that your wench of a mother always interfered. Bad for you, excellent for me. Excellent," he whispered close to her ear as he squeezed her breasts painfully.
Allyriane surged forward, trying to pull away from him, but he was strong and eager and wouldn't release her. She was no match for his strength. Her only hope was to catch him off guard, and even then her chances of escape were slim. He was laughing at her now, enjoying her fear, thriving on it. She cursed him in her mind and then cursed herself as she felt tears well up in her eyes. Once he breached her, all hope for the future would be lost.
His icy fingers circled her nipples through the cloth then drifted up to the neckline of her cote, where they gathered the fabric into a tight grip and ripped her bodice in half. The tattered shreds fluttered in the breeze that drifted through the cavern. She turned her face toward the draft, letting the chill settle against the tears on her cheeks. She knew no one could help her now.
***************************************
Dedrick and Lindsea Hawthorne peered down the valley to the river's edge where Allyriane was to meet them half an hour before. It was dark, the middle of the night, but the surrounding woods were so quiet that they would surely hear her oars upon the water.
"I don't like this, Dedrick. She should be here by now," Lindsea muttered, pulling the hood of her cloak closer about her face.
Dedrick glanced down at his sister as she huddled on the ground, wondering how Lindsea had managed to drag him away from his warm fire to accompany her on this foolish excursion. So her best friend didn't want to marry her betrothed. Allyriane Kennaird wasn't the first woman who wanted to escape an unwanted marriage. Likely the girl had a man elsewhere that she believed she was in love with. "Mayhap she changed her mind."
Lindsea stood up and, brushing the damp grass from her woolen skirts, walked over to where Dedrick sat, still mounted on his huge white stallion. "She would not change her mind. You don't know Byrne Ransford. 'Tis said the man is a witch."
Dedrick stared down at his sister. She looked so tiny standing there with her dark cloak swirling about her in the wind. "Lindsea, the same has been said of you."
"I don't doubt it, brother, but I'm not evil. Ransford is. I fear that Allyriane's plan has been discovered and only the good Lord knows what the man would do to punish my poor friend. I feel all isn't right. I'm scared."
The last was not but a whisper, but the admission convinced Dedrick that his sister was right. Never was Lindsea frightened. "It will be too risky to enter Kennaird Castle with the intentions of kidnapping Kennaird's daughter. You stay here. I'll go."
"Not alone! I can help."
"No, Lindsea. You will stay," Dedrick said harshly, not accepting any argument.
"Aye, brother, I'll stay. Please hurry. I fear for Allyriane's life."
******************************************
A short time later Dedrick was staring up at Kennaird's battlements, wondering how he would breach the keep's guard. He tied his horse, Winter, to a tree in the forest, dismounted, and crept ever closer to the keep. The outer curtain was thick stone and the portcullis was already lowered for the night. He watched the men on the allure, preparing to run should they notice him. As he approached the wall, he saw a lone figure standing in an embrasure between the battlements. The figure was gesturing to him and he closed the distance. Looking up, he was surprised to find Ralston, the captain of Kennaird's guard.
"Is that you, Baron?" Ralston whispered.
"Aye, 'tis the Baron Hawthorne," Dedrick whispered back quickly, lest someone else on the watch should notice him. "I recognize you, Ralston, though it's been years since I've seen you."
"Are you here to help the daughter of this keep?"
Ralston's voice carried down to him, and he grimaced. If Ralston was involved, then it was serious indeed. "Aye. I need to get in."
"Go around to the side. I'll let you in the postern there."
Dedrick's eyes lingered on the other figures walking the allure. None seemed to notice him, so he followed Ralston's advice. When he finally discovered the gate, it was already open.
"Hurry, Sir. I fear for my lady's life. I cannot let Ransford discover I am involved."
The man's choice of words were spookily familiar, much like Lindsea's when he left her. They hurried across the bailey toward the inner curtain, when, to Dedrick's surprise, Ralston showed him a small door built into the thick wall. Opening it, the captain nearly pushed him down the stairway inside.
"It is a steep, slanting stairway, Sir. Two turns. You will come out in the caverns beneath the keep. The waterway there will take you out to the river. I arranged a boat for my lady."
Dedrick didn't say anything, but quickly ran down the steps. When Ralston shut the door, the staircase was pitch black and he could not see an inch in front of him. Taking the second turn, a faint light greeted him. A woman's moans wafted up with the light and Dedrick's heart clenched in his chest. Allyriane was in trouble, and though he had never met the young woman, he felt protective of her. She was Lindsea's dearest friend, and he would never forgive himself if he was too late to help her.
He crept down the last few steps, not knowing what would greet him in the cavern below. There was no door at the bottom of the steps and Dedrick found himself on a wet stone floor. Water dripped from overhead, pooling in the crevices of the ancient rock. A small boat rocked on the water. Then he saw her. It had to be Allyriane Kennaird as no one else would have reason to be below the keep at such an hour of the night.
Allyriane's bloodied head lolled on the steps of a second staircase. Her breasts were bared to the cold, her nipples puckering in the chill wind that fluttered the remnants of her bodice and chemise. A man clothed all in black was busy rolling woolen stockings down the poor girl's legs.
Dedrick approached slowly, drawing his sword in a swift movement. The other man heard the motion and spun around. "Leave the girl alone," Dedrick said sternly.
Byrne laughed. "And who are you? Her lover?"
"Nay, I'm not her lover. I'm her savior."
"Such foolish talk for a man on the verge of death." Byrne drew closer and as he approached, he seemed to grow in size. Suddenly, Dedrick remembered Lindsea's words. This man was a witch. 'Twas merely a spell that made him appear to grow.
Dedrick waited until the man was close before he lashed out, catching the man in the hand. Blood flowed freely from the wound. Still the man approached. Byrne reached for his throat and he was helpless to stop him. The man squeezed until Dedrick was sure his windpipe would give way and, in a desperate attempt to free himself, Dedrick used the hilt of the sword to strike the man in the head.
The man's grip loosened, then he collapsed on the cold, wet floor. Dedrick stared down at the shrunken shape for a moment, then hurried to Allyriane's side. She was unconscious. Gently he rolled her stockings back up her legs and fastened them with the slips of silk dangling from the tops. He found his gaze wandering up the smooth length of the appendages, and then caught himself. They were still in danger.
Quickly, he gathered her still figure in his arms and carried her to the waiting boat. Laying Allyriane in the vessel, Dedrick realized too late that the boat wasn't moored, and that the oars were missing. Allyriane and the boat drifted away from the wall and then he saw one of the oars. The top of it was lodged against the wall, where it had caught after being thrown into the water.
Not stopping to think, Dedrick dove into the foamy water. It only took seconds to find the second oar and he placed it in the boat before going to the wall and prying the other oar loose. It came free and Dedrick was swimming for the boat when he heard Byrne's moan. Finally reaching the boat, Dedrick pulled himself and a large quantity of water into the vessel. Allyriane's thick hair tangled and floated in the puddles in the bottom of the boat as he took up the oars. Pulling with all his might, the boat shot out of the cavern. They passed under a raised portcullis and after they were out, the gate closed, safely trapping Byrne inside. Dedrick knew this was the work of Ralston, although he couldn't see the man anywhere about as he glanced up the steep side of the castle to the battlements.
Allyriane raised a fragile, shaking hand to her head. The movement caught Dedrick's attention, and his gaze lingered on her exposed chest. Her breasts were large and tipped with nipples the color of an exotic peach rose. Even in the dark they begged for attention, standing out like beacons against her milky white skin. Although the muscles in his arms ached from rowing so furiously, the pain couldn't compare to the ache he harbored lower, his body stiff and erect from the sight of Allyriane's beautiful body.
She was moaning now, the soft sound carrying into the night. Dedrick pulled the boat ashore, gathered Allyriane in his arms, and began walking toward the forest and Winter. It was then that she woke, her wide eyes staring up at him.
"You're not evil."
"Nay, I'm not."
**************************************
Please be patient with awkward sentences and errors...this is a very early draft. D.
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Reviewed by ***** *********
5/31/2003
Immediately engaging and fast, this is good work! But be careful with conversational anachronisms and with historical inaccuracies, artistic license will excuse such errors just so far... otherwise, this was very enjoyable and would easily be worthy of expanding into a longer, more in-depth piece! Good job!
Reviewed by brenda
4/22/2003
absolutely fantastic. i was hooked from the beginning....more, more please!!!!!!!!!
Reviewed by Pam
1/13/2003
Excellent and fast moving. I love the story and would like to read on. Nit-picks - avoid words ending in 'ly', such as 'suddenly'. Question - you describe something that sound like garters. I don't think they existed back then. Apart from that, I think everything sounds authentic. Good going.
Reviewed by Impy Imperson
7/9/2002
Very good imagery! You let the characters stand out and I hope to read some more
