In her room at the Nine Raven, turning away from the window, Lucy Rivčre longed for this day, but deep down, there were still unresolved issues. Surely, Theodoric will pay the ultimate price for his crimes. Ostric and his equally criminal associates will pay. But what about the child? Lucy's heart ached for Bertram and the realization that the boy's birth parents were Mirinda and Ostric. While she became repulsed at the fact that she and Emery reared "That blackheart's" child, Lucy was somewhat reluctant to relinquish the boy to Mirinda. There had to be an easy way to do this without upsetting Bertie, after all, he would be most affected. His welfare and happiness came first, and uprooting him from the only home he's ever known might trigger deep resentment. He could, in time, outwardly manifest all of Ostric's darkness, becoming a mirror image of his rapist-terrorist father.
"Lucy," said Emery as he entered the room, "Edgard is here with Mirinda
and Fabian. He wants to discuss Bertie's future." Lucy, tears welling in her
eyes, replied, "Emery, does that mean we have to give up the boy? And how, if
Mirinda takes him, will that effect Edgard's offer to underwrite Bertie's future
schooling? I want the best for our son, and I know you do, too. But I can't
stand aside and watch that child torn from the only family he's known–"
"It's not that, Lucy. Edgard has come up with an arrangement that I think will
be satisfactory for all concerned. Just hear him out."
The crowd outside started to vocalize as the sound of distant drums could heralded the approach of the condemned criminals. Going to the window, Emery watched as the prison cart holding Ostric, Archel, and Herman wheeled up to the platform.
Turning away, he flatly said, "I entertained going down to watch the execution, but I suppose seeing those three die won't change the past. Justice is done, and now we must focus on Bertie and Mirinda." Emery embraced and kissed his wife then escorted her down the hall where Edgard and the Martels waited. It would be a long conference...
******
In a dank cell Theodoric awaited his fate. What rotten luck! Just when he had it all planned so carefully, so precisely, everything crashed down. He had no idea the hired manservant Aidan was actually the Blue Knight's valet and revealed the hideout. The wretched man told all, even accepted payment in exchange for information. At this moment, those men he hired – Ostric, Archel, and Herman – had been taken to the gallows. Within an hour, the guards would be coming for him. No word on Griselda's whereabouts, not that it mattered much to Theodoric. The woman proved to be just as faithless and untrustworthy as the faker Ostric. She was, to Theodoric's thinking, the instrument of his downfall. Deep inside, he wished she would follow him in death, her head laying alongside his on that block awaiting the executioner's axe. How dare she turn on him like that, after all he had done for her. Griselda was a mousy, bookish wench and should've been grateful Theodoric "rescued" her from what he saw a doomed match with the likes of Fergus.
He heard the clank of keys in the lock. Were they coming for him so soon? Were those three scoundrels hanged already? Theodoric amused himself with mental pictures of Ostric and the others pleading for mercy as the nooses were tightened around their necks. He conjured images of the trio begging and pleading, their hearts pounding hard as Judge Geoffrey gave his hangman the signal. Then the drop, with the trio agonizingly writhing in the ropes as the very life choked out of them. He smiled. At least his death wouldn't be as messily torturous. Just a clean quick swipe of the axe...
A guard entered the cell. He announced, "M'lord, you have a visitor." Theodoric's eyes popped as Griselda entered. She was not smiling, crying, or even showing the least bit of emotion. Her facial expression was flat, blank even. Dressed in black silk, she appeared every bit the grieving widow, but there was no depth of emotion in her eyes. She motioned to the guard, saying, "Leave us, please. I shall be all right. I just want to say a few final words to my husband."
Lord Fairfax
glowered as his wife stood there, still unemotional. What, after all the havoc
she'd wrought, have to say to him just before he is to be executed? Silence
between the pair at first, then he finally spoke.
"Griselda," he said through
gritted teeth, "whatever you have to say to me, be quick about it then be gone
with you! I have no use for a disloyal wife. Because of you everything is
ruined."
She blinked twice, smiled thinly, replying, "Good husband, I did what
was right. I could no longer stand back and watch you ruin more lives."
She fell silent again, looked to the tiny barred window then listened intently to the growing cheer of the crowd outside. Yes, those men, those fakers Theodoric knowingly hired have received their fate, and in a matter of time so will Theodoric.
"As I said," she continued, "I wanted to see you one last time to give you some news."
Theodoric glared at Griselda, wishing her dead. She could
read his eyes, retorting, "Oh, m'lord, you will be pleased that your estate will
fall into good hands. You see, the true Blue Knight, Edgard, revealed some
pertinent information to Geoffrey. Lord Haveron came just this morning and
confirmed all. That paper you drew up, granting the sham 'Edgard' all those Wellbrooke
lands as a wedding gift, is legally binding. The will in Geoffrey's office, the one that
bequeaths all your estate to Edgard is binding as well. As it stands, Edgard,
the true Blue Knight, will inherit all the moment your head is separated from
your body."
Theodoric was livid! If he could, he'd turn back the clock to
that day he drew up that document. Not a man known for his long-range planning,
Lord Fairfax rued the day he ever met 'Edgard' knowing full well the "Blue
Knight" who carried out every murder, rape, and other grievous crimes was a
sham. He hung his head in a curious mixture of shame and rage. However, Griselda
wasn't about to leave without one last parting shot.
"Oh, yes," she said, her eyes now glowing with an almost ethereal light,
"once you're dead, I intend to let Sir Edgard have the house. And he has been so
kind, allowing me to remain there with my true love for the rest of my days."
"Your true love," Theodoric literally spat out the words. "Your so called true
love was nothing more than a bookish weakling, a man given to foolish
extravagance–"
She interrupted, "If, by 'foolish extravagance', you mean Fergus' generosity to the poor and disadvantaged, then that trait makes me love him that much more. But, m'lord, you forget that you took me from him. You attacked him, threatened to befoul his good name with lies, forced him to exile himself. But I found him, and we have a son, a boy who needs his parents that much more. Fergus is tenfold the man you never were!"
At once, Theodoric could stand no more. He lunged at Griselda, grabbing her by the throat. He wanted her dead. At least he would have the last word, and she would be condemned to wander the netherworld at his side forever.
"You ungrateful, conniving bitch!"
He felt his hands tighten around her throat. She, immobilized, wanted to cry out
to the guard for help and tried to fight Theodoric off but was unsuccessful. Now
was the time for desperate measures...
An almost demonic gurgle escaped her lips. The fine blue eyes turned an eerie, forbidding black. Griselda's pale complexion at once transformed into golden scaly skin. Her hands, their nails becoming sharp claws, reached up at Theodoric, scratching him across the face. In an instant, out of sheer fright, Theodoric released Griselda. He stood back in awe and terror as his wife began transforming into a great golden dragon. The massive reptilian form filled the cell, illuminating it with a light not of this world. She glared hard at him with her great black eyes; she bared her teeth. Plumes of smoke and fiery sparks shot from her fierce nostrils. Spreading her wings, she spoke to him:
"O Theodoric, you will pay for your crimes. It is I, Evelyn, sister to the dragon Samira. I have been inhabiting your wife's body ever since you ripped her from the bosom of the one man who loved her. O wretched man, how long have I lived for this day. No, I shall not kill you here; let the humans take care of you. Your so called noble lineage is at an end. You will have no heirs, no descendants. Your future heirs, for the most part, have been vanquished. One more exists, and she is now awaiting her fate, a death far worse and more excruciating than yours."
She hovered over him, continuing, "Theodoric of Fairfax, your descendant, Jamie Morrow, will die the moment your head is severed from your body. The brother, Paul, shall at last be reunited with me, his mother, and his father Evan. Ah, Evan...He is embodying Fergus, the man promised to Griselda. O, happy day! For once the whole of Ninegates will celebrate its freedom from your oppressive rule. Medra and Mirinda's parents' murder will be avenged. At last, peace shall reign under the strong guidance of Sir Edgard and, when he is of age, Bertram Rivčre. There shall be no more fear or terror."
With that, and heeding the approaching footsteps outside, Evelyn instantly resumed the human form of Griselda. Watching the once swaggering, proud Theodoric reduced to a sniveling, cowering cur, she became quite satisfied that the man finally was getting his due. Banging on the door, she demanded to be let out.
"You may take my husband away now," she said, exiting the cell. "I have nothing else to say to him."
******
Medra stood at the entrance of the dragons' lair, waiting for any news from
Fergus. Mirinda and Fabian had returned to town hours ago and were currently in
conference with Sir Edgard concerning the fate of Bertram Rivčre. Medra didn't
think about that: The possible fallout if Mirinda decided to reclaim her child.
She also didn't think of the fate of another long lost child: Paul Morrow. With
the Morrow children present, 'Astrid Hĺmasko' finally unmasked herself as the
dragon Samira, then Fergus admitted Paul's true paternity.
Naturally, as Medra
and Samira expected, all chaos ensued with Jamie reduced to terrified tears and
Paul struggling to come to grips with his true identity. It was all so dramatic.
Astrid admitting to killing Lawrence Morrow; Paul's paternity revealed; the
complicated, intricate plot to bring down both the houses of Fairfax and Morrow.
Medra recalled with relish the sight of the imperious, overbearing Jamie
cowering at Samira's feet, begging for mercy. The nerve of that cruel bitch! To
beg – no, grovel – for her very life, after she herself subjected Paul to years
of abject maltreatment. Morib, then disguised as an elegant elderly nobleman,
resumed his form, then took Jamie to the high country where the wretched woman
awaited her fate.
And where was Paul? With Fergus, who had to calm down the distraught young man.
Of course, Paul took it very hard, his very future hung in the balance. The
question was whether Paul would come to accept Fergus/Evan as his father and if
he would decide to remain human or resume his true draconic form. At present,
Evan still inhabited Fergus' body as did Evelyn still inhabited Griselda's. Only
after Theodoric's beheading would both dragons resume their true forms and, if
all went well, reunite with their son.
So much planning, so many sleepless nights wondering if the plot to defeat those cruel men would come to a positive resolution. At least Medra's revenge on the sham Ostric had been fulfilled. At least Ninegates would be free of Theodoric's iron rule, and peace would reign under the leadership of Sir Edgard. But so many unresolved issues remained.
As she peered into the distance, taking in the smoke and flames rising from
the tall peaks of the mountains, Medra smiled to herself. Once Samira dispatched
Jamie, Medra would resume her unusual relationship with her draconic lover. She
could at last be free to practice her craft as sorceress without fear of
reprisal. She watched as a familiar shape winged its way back to the lair. It
was Morib.
He lighted on the ground, looking at Medra with a slight smile. He said, "The
villainess Jamie Morrow is now chained upon Mt. Nycia. Samira is with her and
will return as soon as she dispatches the wretched woman. All of this shall come
to an end, Medra."
Medra ran up to Morib and embraced his midnight blue snout. "It's over,
Morib," she said with tears in her eyes. Then, "But what about Paul? Surely Evan
will ease the young man's mind. Poor Paul! He became quite upset – maddened even
– when we told him the truth."
Morib nodded his great head, replying, "If I know Evan, he will take great pains
explaining all to Paul. I just hope the young man will accept the inevitable."
"The inevitable?"
"Paul must resume his draconic form. It is only natural. And he must reunite
with his mother, who I assume has yet to vacate Griselda's body."
A faint roar followed by an equally faint, yet agonizing, scream could be
heard from the distant mountain. Jamie...
TO BE CONTINUED...Go to Chapter 17
Copyright©2003, 2004 by Pepper
Shriver*. All Rights Reserved.
*My pen name :-)