Treasure So Rare (Women of Strength Time Travel Trilogy) (6 page)

None of the other men looked to the sky in appreciation or
wonder, they just plodded ahead. How faithful were they to a man of Camdork's
breed? Could he buy any of them off and obtain more information? An idea with
merit, but right now he was a man without coin. He needed to lay low and listen
and watch. His life and that of his men on
the
Merry Maiden
depended upon his
skills of observation and his ability to keep his thoughts to himself.

A shadow passed overhead and he looked up again. He clenched
his jaw, biting make the curse that rose to his lips. Mother of God! There was
a winged creature in the sky. It appeared half as long as
the
Merry Maiden
,
and she was eighty feet long.
A dragon.

No one seemed to pay any heed to the dark winged creature.

Feeling as if he were being watched, Erik looked to his
side. Ulrich's eyes were narrowed on him. Erik jerked a thumb toward the sky.
Ulrich tipped his head back slightly, his eyes looking upward. With a frown, he
looked back at Eric, shrugging.

"'Tis only a wer-dragon." Ulrich ignored him once
more.

Erik stared again at the creature, the wings swooping up and
down like a bird in flight. A dragon. It turned in the air and flew off just
like a bird. On its scaly gray back he saw a sparkling of blue light, like
gemstones capturing the light, and then it was gone.

¤¤

As they passed through another small village, Erik noted how
well cared for the small thatched-roof houses appeared, the dwellings
whitewashed and neat. Small gardens in the side yards, people tending to their
animals. Several villagers stopped to watch as their small army ride by, their
glances hostile, the men running to pull their children from the path of the
trotting horses. A small cart in the road sat at an odd angle and as they drew
nearer, and Erik saw the wheel had broken.

The man jumped off the cart in panic as the troop bore down
on him. He ran around the cart and began to help a woman, heavily pregnant,
from the cart. A soldier ahead of Erik lunged toward the cart, raising his arm
in which he held a stick.

Erik put his heels to his mount, and his horse responded
with quick agility. "Stop!" he yelled, and ran his horse in front of
the other man's mount, so that the two horses met shoulder to shoulder.

The man turned his attention from the couple on the ground,
swinging the pointed stick in his hands, his scowl ferocious. Upon seeing Erik,
he quickly pulled his horse back and dropped the hand with the weapon.

"My Lord Camdork, I thought only to get them to move so
as not to delay you," the man said.

"Drop the stick," Erik said harshly.

"I am sorry, my Lord Camdork." The man looked
down.

Erik felt the stillness around him. "Ride to the
back," he said.

With tight lips, the man immediately obeyed, urging his
horse around the troops and riding to the back of the line.

"Ride on," he said, and he led the procession
around the man, his cart and the pregnant woman. Thinking about the soldier's
quick compliance, he wondered again about this charade, pretending to be
Camdork. Erik grimaced. He was already getting a taste of the norm for
Camdork's brutality.

"Camdork would not have interfered," said a voice
beside him. Erik looked over at Ulrich.

"Good," he said. "I don't want my actions
associated in any way with that scoundrel."

Ulrich smiled grimly. "Pretender, it is too late for
that. You are him. Surely you know a spell has been cast so the men see only
Camdork?"

Erik stared at him. What could he say?

Ulrich nudged his horse into a canter and rode ahead.

Erik stared after him, eyes narrowed. He had to wonder why
the other men saw him as Camdork and yet Ulrich knew him for who he was -- a
pretender?

¤¤

As they drew nearer the keep, Erik stared anew at the sun-burnt
fields, the grass stubbled and stunted. Trees were sparse, and the ones that
did grow were short and twisted.

He stared ahead at the keep, marveling at the workmanship in
the structure and the ledge it had been erected upon. An enormous water-filled
moat surrounded the keep, overrun with green growth along its surface. The wide
and sturdy drawbridge had been pulled up against the castle's stone walls. Not
a very encouraging welcome for the husband-to-be, he thought grimly. From his
viewpoint, it appeared there was no other way inside. He could not blame her
ladyship for the lack of welcome, knowing the little he knew of Camdork.

The lady had good reason to deny this group of renegades
entry to her keep, but Erik had to wonder if her denying entry to Camdork would
create a hardship for not only herself, but all of her people. He couldn't
imagine a queen would take lightly to an official order being challenged.

His horse shifted beneath him. Erik was in no hurry to storm
a medieval castle, which did not even seem possible since there was no feasible
point of forced entry. Standing beside the water he looked down into its murky
depths as best he could. The moat itself looked to have some kind of metal
apparatus beneath the water's surface.

They sat waiting for a matter of fifteen minutes or more,
before the wooden drawbridge was slowly lowered and settled heavily against an
upraised earth platform with a dull thump. As they began to cross the
drawbridge, the horses' hooves echoed loudly on the wooden planks. The inside
gate opened and with a growl Ulrich impatiently motioned them inside the walls.
Erik looked about him as they passed through the stone walls into the inner
courtyard. The stone walls were themselves some three feet thick.

People stood alongside as they entered the cobbled
courtyard. A farrier stood with a smoking iron tool in his hand, a woman held a
wooden paddle before her, and children peeked from behind the adults. One young
woman wielded a straw broom on the end of a long wooden handle. One by one,
women washing clothes in wooden tubs paused to watch them ride by and pulled
wooden paddles from the wash water. It appeared most of the adult population
was ready for a fight and were arming themselves with whatever they had at
hand. Having seen the weapons Camdork's small army possessed, he didn't hold
out much hope for anyone armed with a wooden washing paddle or farrier iron.

¤¤

Erik felt this entire world was becoming more and more of a
mystery. He and his men had been landed in this foreign place, in a time he did
not recognize, among people who viewed dragons in the sky as commonplace. Erik
could see further proof of the distrust and hostility on every person's face as
they watched him, masquerading as Camdork, and the men-at-arms, according to
what he'd overheard, were all paid mercenaries.

And what of the Lady Iliana, he wondered? She would think he
was Camdork, a man who by his own account had molested her sister, the lady Graziela.
Erik groaned. Therein lay just cause to hate him.

Upon gaining entry, they now entered the huge bailey
cautiously, expecting a rain of arrows or other projectiles. Her ladyship's men
stood shoulder to shoulder along the wall walk surrounding the entire bailey.
They stood stiffly at attention, apparently unarmed, not a blade, arrow or
sword to be seen among them, and for that he was grateful, because he and every
other man on horseback were vulnerable targets.

¤¤

There was only one who challenged Camdork's men and their
right to be there. The lad moved lithely along the wall walk, a dark hood upon
his head as he brandished a sword with a strange appearance. So strange, in fact,
Erik wanted a closer look. No doubt thinking it was a jest, several of the men
at arms climbed the stairs to the wall walk, taking up the challenge from the
lad one by one, and one by one, they were left teetering on the stone ledge
before falling into the bailey below.

Dressed simply in brown baggy trousers and a stained fawn
colored blouse, with cloth binding about his feet, the lad moved swiftly,
wielding his sword impressively, evading the much clumsier men at arms as they
tried to use brute strength against his lightness of foot.

After witnessing three of the men fall to defeat under the
lad's blade, Erik decided this absurdity had gone on long enough. Two of
Camdork's men already lay wounded and one looked to have suffered a broken
ankle in the fall. Children and women stood in the yard and he felt they were
in danger of being trampled by the still-astride horsemen.

Knowing he must ape the arrogance of Camdork, he dismounted
his horse and ran up the narrow tower stairs. "Cease!" His harsh bark
caused several men waiting a turn to fall back.

"Stop this nonsense!" His voice rang out over the
courtyard, his anger very real. "I come by order of the queen, would you
disobey her royal order?"

With his back to a dovecot, the lad paused, sword at the
ready. Erik addressed him. "Would you subject your people to punishment
for these acts you are committing?"

Erik took another step, compelling the eyes he could barely
see behind the cloth to give him their full attention. The fragrance of roses
stole around him, momentarily distracting him.

Frowning, Erik moved within four feet, then three, removed
the helm Camdork had bade him to wear and placed it on the short wall beside
him. His fingers brushed several pebbles along the stone wall and his fingers
closed around them. As he turned to the lad, all in the courtyard below
remained still, tension mounting as the seconds stretched. For all his
fierceness and cunning in dispatching three men, the lad was not very large.

"Dare you take that final step?" Erik asked, his
voice pitched low so only the lad could hear. Erik raised one blond brow.
"No one here doubts your courage, your skill and cunning, but do you dare
to step forward and run me through?" He advanced another step. "Your
next move could decide the fate of all who live under the protection of this
castle." With a quick snap of his wrist, Erik opened his hand and let the
pebbles fly into the dovecot, effectively taking the decision from the lad.
Startled by the small projectiles, a flock of doves flew straight up into the
air behind the lad and around them.

Erik lunged forward and twisted sideways, catching the lad
in the midsection, laying him flat, his sword clanking on the stone. Not a word
was uttered as Erik's immense frame lay atop the lad, but the eyes... aye, the
eyes burned with hate and fury. Eyes as deeply blue as the sea...

Erik pried the sword from the lad's gloved hand, then he
reached for the lad's hood. The lad threw up his arm, his wrist hitting Erik's
hand. The lad rolled and twisted away, shot to his feet and ran. Erik followed
until they were enclosed in a small tower like room, hidden from view to the
others.

"Nowhere to go," Erik said, cornering him.
"You might better have left this fight to others." He pulled the hood
from the lad's head.

"Mother of God." All time and meaning fell away as
the wind swirled in through the stone tower, whipping in a frenzy around them. Every
muscle in Erik's body stiffened and his mouth gaped, totally caught by
surprise.

The "lad" tossed curling black hair over her
shoulders as a gust tossed it into her eyes -- cerulean blue eyes that glared
at him with hate and loathing.

"You!" A wolfish grin twisted his lips. The
black-haired witch who had taunted him in slumber and had dared to lure him,
only to vanish! Erik scanned her face; black, slanting brows, the unblemished
creamy skin, full lips the color of new wine --

"Camdork the Beast!" she spat. "I should have
used your tactic and stuck a knife in your ribs when your back was
turned." She turned on her heel and ran out of sight. He heard a grinding
of stone and by the time he'd gathered his wits and followed, she was long
gone.

Despite the upside down world he now found himself trapped
in, Erik couldn't help but smile. He had found his black-haired witch.
And thinking him Camdork, she hated him.

Erik stared at the flamberge sword that lay on the stone at
his feet. He picked it up, hefting it in his palm, studying the sword with
amazement. He could not help but smile with delight. By God, he had found the
woman he'd searched for.

Slowly, Erik made his way back down to where the men were
taking care of their animals, pushing and shoving for the right to be first
into the stables.

Ulrich was the only one still mounted. "Here now,"
he bellowed, his expression sour, "your horses will have room in the
stables, but after tonight you shall camp outside the castle walls. It is my
lord Camdork's wish and also her ladyship's."

Bemused, Erik became aware of a young lad by his side. The
boy's thin wrists extended well past his shirt sleeves, and Erik judged him to
be around ten or eleven years of age. The boy's brown hair was short, his dark
eyes serious as he cleared his throat nervously, backing up a step as Erik
turned to him.

"My Lord Camdork, I am Edward, and I welcome you to
Dutton Keep. Her ladyship bid me show you to your chamber after your horse has
been settled."

"My lady Iliana?" he asked.

The lad seemed to swallow with difficulty, his dark blue
eyes wide. "Yes, my lord, Mistress Iliana. My lady welcomes you to Dutton
Keep."

"I could not have had a more entertaining
welcome," Erik murmured with a barely repressed grin. He measured the
weight of the sword still in his hand, admiring its fine craftsmanship.

Erik followed the boy down the steps, staring at the three
men being attended to, their wounds dressed as they sat in the bailey below.
"It seems there is much to learn in this place. But first, I must speak
with the wounded."

With a scowl, Iliana paced in her chamber, mulling over the
arrival of the beast Camdork and his men. It bothered her that she'd wavered at
the last moment, when she'd had the chance to kill him, doubt had crept in. By
the Holy Saints, where had that cautioning voice come from? She should have
taken her chances and run him through -- surely none would have mourned him!
And he had taken her sword! Iliana clenched her fists. She must retrieve her
sword. It was irreplaceable. The waving blade was her only advantage when
matched against those stronger and more experienced.