Evermore (Knight Everlasting Book 3) Read online

  “Oh, he’s more lacking than everyone thinks,” Sophie said with a twist to her mouth. “Please. Let’s get Sir Leo and you can just very quickly show us where you last saw him.”

  “Certainly,” Marjorie agreed.

  Her worry increased as they all hurried down the hill and toward the forest. She concentrated on the path she’d taken home the day before, wanting to find the right spot. She had to keep pausing and looking around. Every time she did, Sophie made a hissing noise between her teeth.

  “I’m trying to remember,” Marjorie said, fighting irritation.

  “We know you are, Marjorie,” Sir Leo said. “Keep being diligent.” Despite his past as a fierce warrior, he was kind, and she smiled gratefully at him for the encouragement.

  “Here’s where we passed one another,” she said, hiding her face for fear of blushing. “I’m certain.” She saw the scattered leaves where she’d lay down after inexplicably finding herself in the woods. To combat the fear of those memories, she called up memories of Lord Jordan’s words. That fear subsided, replaced with fear for Lord Jordan. “I continued on toward the castle,” she said. “I’m sorry but I don’t know which direction he went.”

  “That’s fine,” Sir Leo said. “He wasn’t making any effort to hide his tracks. It will be easy to follow his route.”

  “It looks like he’s going deeper in,” Sophie said. “Why would he do that? Marjorie, what kind of wild animals are in these woods?”

  “Goodness, Sophie. You know there’s nothing that could bring serious harm.” When had Sophie become so tenderhearted about a near stranger? In fact, when did she become so tenderhearted? Marjorie hid it better but, inside, she was as concerned as Sophie was acting.

  They followed the trodden leaves and broken twigs until they came to an area of even more trodden leaves and great swathes of broken twigs. “It looks like more than one person came this way,” Sir Leo said.

  “In a great hurry, as well,” Marjorie added. Sophie moaned and Marjorie had to admit it seemed their fears might not be misplaced.

  Leo sped his pace and the girls struggled to keep up through the dense trees. Finally, they came to a clearing where it was obvious a struggle had taken place. There were footprints and tracks in every direction. A fallen log had been overturned to reveal the damp, packed earth underneath it. Part of the log had been cracked in two. Marjorie imagined a person, or people, would have had to fall on it hard to crack it that way. She hoped it had happened at another time, but her hope was dashed when Sophie inspected the area and shrieked.

  “There’s blood all over the log. Oh God, Leo.” She threw herself into Leo’s arms, shaking uncontrollably.

  Marjorie fought her fear and moved to where Sophie had pointed. There was, indeed, a lot of blood, dried and sticky and splattered all over the broken part of the log. She knelt beside it and looked at the ground. It was alarming, but not so much that would indicate anyone was dead. She saw a hint of red under the log. Not red like the blood, but something smooth and shiny. She reached carefully under and pulled it out. It was strange and compact, with silver bits peeking out from the red shell. It had a white cross painted on it. She held it up for the others to see.

  “Could this be something?” It certainly wasn’t anything she’d seen before.

  Sophie dropped to the ground next to her and took it. “It’s Jordan’s Swiss Army Knife. He was here.”

  Marjorie looked at Sir Leo as he took the knife from Sophie. “What a miraculous thing,” he said, engrossed with pulling at it. To her surprise, it really was a knife, only folded into its shell. Sir Leo pulled out a small pair of scissors and a file and countless other silver objects until it looked like it was covered in oddly-shaped bristles.

  “The things they have in Italy,” she sighed, wishing she had such an item.

  “Guys. Remember? Jordan?”

  “Yes, Lord Jordan,” Marjorie said, tearing her eyes off the knife. “He must have dropped it when he fell.”

  “He didn’t fall,” Sophie said, looking under the log some more. “It’s obvious he was pushed or dragged. And he didn’t drop that knife. That thing is like his baby. He showed it to me and, uh, told me how important it was.” She sat back on her heels, on the verge of tears.

  Sir Leo pulled her away from the log and Marjorie looked under it again. If he hadn’t dropped it, perhaps he’d left it for them to find. Tired of being dainty, she shoved the broken log out of the way.

  “Look,” she gasped. They were beside her in an instant. “You were right, Sophie. He didn’t drop it. Or at least not on purpose. He was digging something in the dirt.” She leaned over and gasped again. “I don’t think he was able to finish though, so you were also right about him being dragged away.”

  She moved aside so they could see the very clear letters Lord Jordan had carved into the smooth, packed dirt under the log. It made her heart ache to see the droplets of blood that had splashed onto the half-word.

  “Dray,” Sophie hissed. “He had to mean Lord Drayton, don’t you think?”

  “Fay said she didn’t like him. Quite descriptive in her name calling,” Marjorie said. “It seems that man is a weasel.”

  *

  Jordan was spitting mad. And not only that, he couldn’t stop spitting because he was pretty sure Drayton’s goon had broken his nose and he kept choking on the blood dripping down the back of his throat. When he escaped, he was going to have all the forces of hell called down upon his captors. Because now he knew exactly how they could disappear so completely and so fast. He thought it was clever, if not downright ingenious, but he was far from admiring them.

  “Let me out,” he shouted for the tenth or hundredth time since they’d shoved him in a supply closet.

  Their entire operation was underground, so the lack of light was severe. After Lord Drayton had decided not to let his goon kill him because he wasn’t sure how important he was to Sir Walter, they’d dragged him to their basecamp. He’d been trussed up and tossed over the back of a horse behind the goon, so his view hadn’t been the best. But he still saw everything. About a mile or so from the road leading to the castle, they’d turned into a field. Several yards after that, what looked like innocent bales of hay were hauled backward with alarming speed to reveal a big hole in the ground. Big enough for three horses to ride abreast. It was a steep decline into the bowels of the earth and after they were far enough in, he heard creaking from above and it momentarily went dark. A few other goons scurried forward with candles to welcome them.

  “How?” he couldn’t help ask. “Who slid open that giant trap door?”

  “Loyal members of our cause,” Drayton answered. “Always ready. It helps to have lookouts at the farms nearby.” He laughed raucously. Sophie was right about the farmers not being on the up and up. He felt sorry for Sir Walter, betrayed by his own neighbors. “You might be surprised what a few gold coins can buy.” Drayton continued to laugh. “All those fools at the castle speaking of ghosts. They’ll soon see what our ghosts can do.”

  Jordan was stunned to be in contact with such a villain. He didn’t think it was possible to be so villainous and he’d recently had dealings with a pugnacious witch who liked to possess people. He also realized with a sinking heart that if he didn’t escape, he’d never see the light of day. For one, he knew too much. For another, it was only a matter of time until Drayton found out he wasn’t worth anything at the castle. For a second, he paused in his futile yelling to wonder why he was still alive. That had to mean something. Probably that he was so inconsequential they’d forgotten him for the moment.

  Thankfully, the goon had never been a Boy Scout. After some pulling and wriggling, Jordan was able to loosen the untidy knots. Free at least from the ropes, he settled back against the wall, trying to figure out how to stay alive indefinitely. He commiserated with Marjorie about her fear of spiders when a big one crawled down the neck of his shirt. He hoped he’d see her again. He hoped he’d see anyone again.

&n
bsp; Chapter 14

  “Sophie, love, you’re going to pace a hole in the floor.”

  She stopped and glared at Leo. Then she resumed her pacing. She scratched at her arms, sick to her core that she’d just sat at the same table with Lord Drayton. He’d laughed and joked with her father and about charmed the skirts off of Anne. Leo had to continuously grip her hand under the table to keep her from tearing Drayton’s throat out. She didn’t understand why her almost-fiancé, her beloved, hadn’t already torn the man’s throat out.

  “We can’t kill him until we know where your brother is,” Tristan said as if reading her mind.

  Tristan finally met her gaze. He’d apologized profusely, berating himself for being so easily fooled by Jordan. Fay had apologized profusely for leaving them alone for even a few minutes, knowing that Tristan was susceptible to being fooled. She’d come back after making sure Catherine was all right after suffering a minor fall to find Tristan having a grand old time on the training field and Jordan nowhere to be found.

  “We need to kill him soon, though,” Fay said. “Did you see the way he was sucking up to Anne? If that monster asks for her hand again, I will lose my—”

  “We won’t let it come to that,” Leo assured her. “But Tristan is right. We can’t harm the weasel until we find Jordan.”

  “Can’t we threaten him, though?” Fay asked. “Get him alone and make him talk? Between you and Tristan, I think he’d confess.”

  “I believe he’s too arrogant to do any such thing, my love,” Tristan answered. “He knows we have no proof. He also knows we’d risk Sir Walter’s ire if we threatened him with anything more than words. He’s an honored guest who believes he will become part of the family soon.” He nodded at Fay’s angry splutter. “Jordan has no army to back him, no ties to the castle besides a seeming old friendship with Sir Leo. Drayton knows all that.”

  Sophie sat beside Leo, feeling defeated. “Then what do we do?” A bleak silence filled the room and she put her head on Leo’s shoulder. She began to think they all thought Jordan might already be dead. “We have to do something,” she said.

  Leo sighed hard enough to ruffle the ends of her hair. “I suppose we can pray.”

  Fay huffed and left the room, Tristan following on her heels. Sophie wasn’t much satisfied with the answer, either, but she continued to sit quietly with Leo. Her big brother had tried so valiantly to save her, even when she didn’t need saving. He’d given up his own life in their time. She couldn’t fathom him meeting such a lonely end. Murdered by a scoundrel and never seen again.

  “We can ride around the countryside and look for clues at first light,” Leo offered. She stood up to leave his room and he clasped her hand. “Promise me you won’t go out tonight on your own or do anything else so foolish.”

  “I won’t,” she said listlessly. “I’m going to the chapel. If it’s the only thing I can do for him, I guess I’m going to do it.”

  *

  It had to have been hours since Jordan had been stuffed into the closet. He must have drifted off to sleep for a bit because he woke with a start when he heard voices and scuffling noises outside his makeshift prison. He pulled himself to the door and pressed his ear to it to listen. Several men were moving heavy objects across the floor. That accounted for the scuffling. But the voices were disjointed, covered by the sounds of wood cracking and some clanking noises. He was able to make out the words “Dernier” and “tonight”, though, and that was all he really needed.

  Remembering the alarming conversation between Drayton and his goon, he knew the attack on Dernier Keep was about to commence. How far away was it? Tristan and most of his men were at Grancourt, which Drayton clearly knew. He was counting on the keep being easily taken, so the first step in his plan to dominate the northern England countryside would be a success. Then he’d marry Anne and wait for her to die or murder her, then take Grancourt Castle for his own.

  Jordan clenched his fists, anger and helplessness coursing through his veins like fire. He was able to leave a clue after the goon tackled him to the ground and smashed his nose. The goon had his boot on Jordan’s back, waiting for Drayton to toss him the ropes to hogtie him with. In those few seconds, he’d managed to pull his Swiss Army Knife from his pants and scratch Drayton’s name in the dirt. He hoped the bright red plastic case would attract someone’s eye if they went looking for him.

  As the noise faded away outside the tiny, dark room, he knew no one was coming for him. Even if they found out who’d nabbed him, he was underground. He’d been keeping that reality at bay while he was stuck in there, but now it felt like he was buried alive. Most likely, soon to be just plain buried. No one would ever find him. He was on his own, underground, in 1398. It made him laugh, but only for a second.

  The silence outside made him think they were on their way to Dernier Keep. It also made him wonder if he had been left completely alone. The thought so overwhelmed him with hope, he jumped up and fumbled his way to the door. Then he crashed his body against it. Pain rocketed through his shoulder.

  “You in there, settle down. We’re only waiting to see if anyone ransoms you, you know?”

  He hadn’t known that and it gave him more hope, despite the fact that he hadn’t been left completely alone to continue to try and break down the door. Maybe the ransom request meant that they wouldn’t kill him until they were absolutely positive he was worthless. They must have thought he might be important to that Italian lord he supposedly used to work for. If they got money and could ship him off to Italy, that would be cleaner than outright killing him. He was surprised Drayton had that small speck of decency in him. Or he was so greedy he thought the ransom would be worth the risk of letting him go.

  “Nobody’s going to ransom you, dumbass,” he muttered, disgusted he’d gotten lost in the idea that he might be let go after all.

  It was up to him, then. He was on his own. He psyched himself up for a few minutes, trying to channel Die Hard and any other movie where the hero was up against a herd of bad guys. He felt around the floor and the walls, nothing more than dirt carved out of the ground and shored up with beams. God, he wanted out of there.

  Digging around along the edges of the walls, he was able to pry a rock from the dirt. It was only about the size of his fist, but it had a sharp edge. He prodded and poked every inch of his prison until he found one of the support beams had cracked vertically, almost from floor to ceiling. He shuddered to think what that meant to the integrity of the ceiling, but stuffed that thought away. He crammed his fingers as far into the crack as he could and pulled. He put his foot on it and pulled more. Finally a piece came away and he landed on his backside with a large, jagged chunk of wood in his hands.

  “What’s going on in there?” the guard yelled. Jordan gathered his weapons and crawled silently to the door, standing up on one side of it. He prayed it wouldn’t open inward and break his nose some more. “Do you think you’re going to dig your way out?” The guard rattled the door handle in warning and Jordan held his breath. “Oh, bloody hell, did the foolish bastard kill himself?”

  The door swung open, to the opposite side of Jordan. The first miracle. The weak lantern light flooding into the room almost blinded him, but he could see the guard wasn’t any bigger than he was. The second miracle. Using all his pent up rage and action movie channeling, Jordan flung himself forward with the rock gripped overhead. He brought it down in an arc with all the force he could muster. It met the guard’s head with a disgusting thunk.

  Yes! He’d done it. Now all he had to do was tie up the guard with his old ropes and get out of there.

  Except, no! The guard hadn’t fallen to the ground like he was supposed to. How could he not after that terrifying crack to the skull? He staggered and lunged toward Jordan. Dazed by the fact that the guard hadn’t been knocked out like he should have been, Jordan got slammed into the hard-packed wall by the guard. He still had his arms free and hit the guard again, this time in the back of the head. And a
gain and again, in the same spot. His arm hurt from the force of the blows. He couldn’t imagine being hit like that. The fact that he was doing it to someone sickened him. And yet, the man would not fall down.

  Despite the fact he’d bashed the man’s head at least five times with a rock, he was still getting punched in the stomach. Still being crushed against the wall. Jordan went beyond all thought. Something other than his mental faculties took over. That something remembered he had a large, jagged piece of wood in his other hand and he plunged it upward. It encountered resistance, so he pushed harder. A terrible ripping, splatting noise woke Jordan from his trance and he saw the guard at his feet. Finally.

  Blood poured from the man’s head and side. Jordan stood frozen, staring down at him for at least a full minute. I killed someone, he thought. No, you didn’t. A few stitches … he crouched and, with shaking hands, felt for a pulse in the man’s neck. He felt blood against his fingertips. But no pulse. He turned away and threw up.

  Okay, so he had killed someone. That would have to get unpacked later. For now, he took off, out of the room, past the area where he saw large, empty crates. Had they been filled with more weapons to take Dernier? He had to get out, to warn Tristan. Fortunately, the place had a pretty simple layout once he was out of the large room. It was mostly the path leading up, with more crude rooms carved out of the ground here and there on either side. He headed up and the path grew wider. Finally, he came to the huge, wooden trapdoor. A quick inspection showed that it was on a wheeled pulley system. He wasn’t sure how advanced, if at all, that was for this time, but he still thought it was ingenious. It didn’t seem possible they’d only left him with one guard and he almost panicked before he was able to find the mechanism to pull the door back enough for him to squeeze his body out.

  It was almost as dark outside as it had been underground, but he ran anyway. Since he’d been ass up on the back of a horse coming in, he hadn’t exactly gotten a proper lay of the land. He didn’t have a clue where he was, but anywhere was better than ending up in a locked, dirt room again.