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Post by CelticLass91 on Aug 16, 2010 19:31:40 GMT -5
Oh my...I hope our messenger made the right choice. :/ Thanks again Ghost for the update! I <3 this story!
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Post by celticbear on Aug 16, 2010 21:30:04 GMT -5
Ghost! you are killing me here with these Clifhangers! Please Update soon!
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Post by laurenne on Aug 16, 2010 23:41:46 GMT -5
Oh, come on, you can't stop there. What's going to happen? More soon, please.
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VolleyErica3
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Music = my life *points* the green guys name is Fredward ^_^
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Post by VolleyErica3 on Aug 17, 2010 11:38:28 GMT -5
soooooooooooo why didn't u give us more UPDATE SOON PLEASE!
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Post by Ghost on Aug 17, 2010 18:35:33 GMT -5
Shannon jumped up from her seat at the edge of the wide bed against one wall, and she whirled to face the intruder. She did not say anything. She only leaned a little forward as she peered into the shadows that covered his face.
Her dark hair was loose, falling in those glorious waves down to her stomach. He saw that it had grown and stiffened in that peculiar way unique to childbearing.
Keith stood frozen in place, staring at the woman in front of him.
"Shannon," he finally whispered.
Almost before he had finished saying the name, his wife was upon him, hugging him with such ferocity that his hood fell completely from his head. Kiss after kiss she placed on his lips, his cheeks. He attempted to return them in kind, but Shannon could not keep from talking.
"Oh Keith, thank God you're all right. Why have you cut your hair? Why did you come to the castle? Don't you know that Sir Devon claims you are an English spy?"
Keith struggled to keep his wits about him, tried not to let himself become hopelessly lost in the happiness of seeing his family again.
"I came back for you," he said between kisses.
"Keith," she replied, pulling back from his face to look him in the eye. "We are safe here. You did not have to risk—"
The messenger placed a finger on his wife's lips to quiet her. Her smile was more dazzling than sunlight, her eyes more brilliant than happiness itself.
"You are all in more danger than you realize. You must leave the castle."
The shine in her face dimmed as she said, "But Lord Derry is going to send us home tomorrow as it is."
"You must leave now."
"I don't—"
"Shannon." Keith took his wife gently by the shoulders. "There is no time to explain why. Not yet. But you and the children must go back to Donegal tonight. Where are Patrick and Nicole?"
"Asleep," Shannon whispered, as though she had just remembered it.
But even as she spoke, the two children were climbing out of the bed, bouncing in curiosity and excitement over to their mother.
"Mommy," Patrick said, "who are you talking to?"
A stab of pain struck Keith in the heart. Had he been away so long that his own son did not recognize him? But then recognition glimmered in the boy's eyes.
"Daddy?" Patrick whispered. Then he grew more confident and declared in a strong tone, "Daddy!"
He reached out his little arms to be hugged. Keith dropped to knees, grateful to be recognized and happy to oblige his son.
Nicole asked her mother, "Where did Daddy's hair go?"
"He cut it off, honey."
Nicole pouted. "But I liked his yellow hair."
"It will grow back, don't you worry."
Keith straightened, still holding Patrick in his arms. "Take Nicole, and follow me."
He turned to the door, but Shannon laid a hand on his arm. "Won't this be too obvious?"
He frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Keith, you could hide them both under your cloak. No one would give one large man a second—"
"Shannon." Keith put his son back on the floor and lowered his voice. "I am not going to leave without you. I have done that too many times as it is."
"You can come back for me afterward. Or better yet, I could leave later and meet you somewhere. Do you not think that we stand a better chance—"
"I will not do that. You do not know the castle well enough."
"Then I will wait here."
"No," Keith said, suppressing a groan of frustration. She did not understand how desperately he needed her to be out of this castle, needed to be sure of her safety.
"But Keith," Shannon whispered as she took a step closer to him, "I don't want to risk… It would be better if we saved the children than if we lost us all."
Keith wanted to argue further, but the time could not be spared for it. He needed to get his family out of the castle grounds by the end of the second half of the minstrel players' performance. And although he fully understood his wife's point, he did not want to agree with it. She was not going to give him an inch on this one. He could see the determination in her eyes.
A knot formed in the pit of his stomach. He would have to leave her again.
"Fine."
Shannon helped him balance their children on his hips. They tightly wrapped their arms around him.
"Daddy is going to play a game with you," she told them. "You must stay very quiet, and pretend that no one knows you are under Daddy's cloak. If you make a noise, someone will hear you and then you will lose the game. But if you stay quiet until Daddy tells you, you will win the game."
The children's faces lit up at the prospect.
"We're gonna win, right Nickie?" Patrick whispered.
"Right!" Nicole chimed in.
"I know you will," Shannon said with a smile. She bent to kiss both children on their cheeks as she drew Keith's cloak back over them.
She then pulled his hood back over his head. "Be careful when you need to open a door."
Despite the situation, Keith felt himself smile. "I have a plan. Do not worry."
"When did you begin to rely on plans?"
"After I met you."
Shannon stood on her toes to give him a quick kiss. Opening the door for him to exit, she said, "Be safe."
"I will be back for you, Shannon. I swear it."
Keith turned and left the room. He heard Shannon shut the door softly behind him, and then he focused completely on the task at hand. The play was still being performed, but Keith had no sense of how close the players were to finishing their act. It must be soon, alarmingly soon. He had not expected the delay. Nevertheless, he saw no one as he descended the steps.
He had already decided that the safest route would be along the battlements of the castle. At first, such a thing seemed foolhardy and pointless; guards constantly patrolled the castle's outer walls. But there would be fewer guards on the walls than there were people within the keep. And if George had executed well his role in the plan, the way out of Donegal Castle would be fastest by the battlements.
Keith reached the door that led out to the walls. The wood was shut closed against its frame. He hesitated—although the combined weight of the children had begun to tax the strength in his arms, he should not put them down. And the door clearly could not be pushed open.
Then an idea came to him.
"Patrick," he muttered as he brushed against the door handle, "open the door for Daddy so that we can win the game."
From under the previously silent cloak came soft giggles. Small hands parted the cloak and gripped the handle. The door opened in seconds, and Patrick's hands slipped back inside the cloak. Another giggle, and then silence again.
"Well done, lad. We're almost there."
Keith nudged the door open, pushed through it, and shut it with his foot.
Tightening his grip on the children, he quickly took in his surroundings. The clouds that had blotted the sun during the day had since blown away, leaving the sky clear for the moon and stars to shine.
Blast. He had expected the extra cover of the clouds.
Keith could not crouch down because of the extra weight of his children.
Nevertheless, he did his best to remain unseen, flitting from shadow to shadow with all the fluidity he could muster.
A few moments of sneaking about had passed before he realized that no guards patrolled the walls of the castle. Good. That meant that George had done his part.
The guardhouse was silent as Keith drew near, but he could clearly see the torchlight dancing through the small window. Here came the hardest section of the route.
Keith held his breath as he approached the stone steps, just behind the guardhouse, that led to the castle courtyard. He found himself mentally taking note of his each movement as he slowly placed one foot on the first stair. Then the second. He wished that the moon would shine more on the steps, or that it make the entire courtyard obscure. Third step. Fourth.
The clink of a coat of mail, and then a long snore came from the guardhouse. Keith breathed again and grinned. This part, at least, had worked.
He swiftly made his way down the rest of the steps. Staying close to the wall, he slipped through the shadows to the portcullis. It had been lowered almost completely, but stopped with just enough space for a man to crawl underneath the spiked tips of the gate's frame.
A large man appeared on the opposite side of the portcullis, his hairless head almost shining in the silver moonlight.
"Thank God, lad," George said in a low voice. "I was beginning to wonder."
Keith lowered the children to the ground, ushering them under the gate and flexing his stiff arms. "Have I taken very long?"
Patrick and Nicole tried in vain to suppress their giggles as they rolled on the dirt under the portcullis and scampered to their grandfather's side.
"It seemed that way," George said. "But I do not think the time passed as swiftly as I thought it did. At any rate, there are only two guards tonight—Sir Devon must have reduced their numbers. They took the ale without question, as you probably noticed. Plays well into our hands, does it not?"
Keith smiled at his children through the gate. "Finally, something has."
George lifted Nicole into his arms. He squinted, as though suddenly noticing that Keith stood alone behind the portcullis. "Where is my daughter?"
"I am going back to get her."
"Won't that take too much time?"
"She insisted. And I will not allow it to take too much time. But, to be safe…" Keith trailed off as he looked at his children again.
George took a step closer to the bars of the gate.
"Take them. Shannon and I will meet you later. Keep them safe."
George turned to Patrick and said to the children, "Who wants to come visit Grandpa and Grandma?"
The children looked at him, then at their father, and then at each other.
"Did we win, Daddy?" Patrick asked, toddling up to the portcullis.
Keith dropped into a squatting position. "Yes, Patrick, you won. You made your daddy very proud. Now go with Grandpa Georgie. Mommy and I will see you later, all right? I love you very much."
Patrick nodded, and George lifted him and balanced the two children on either side much as Keith just had. "Good luck, son."
"I love you, Daddy!" both Patrick and Nicole whispered.
The children waved to their father through the interlocking bars of the portcullis.
Then they departed, George's long stride carrying them swiftly away from the castle to the town.
Keith rested one hand on the gate, watching them go. After a moment, he turned and slid through the shadows back to the keep.
He did not realize that he was entering from the main door until he had opened it. Idiot! That was the most misguided…
He froze with one foot inside the hallway. The steadily growing hum of conversation drifted from the main hall. That meant the minstrel players had finished their performance.
And that meant that someone (or a lot of someones), whether servants or the nobility, would be walking down this corridor at any moment.
Keith moved to step back into the courtyard, to reenter the building by the wall.
But as soon as he moved an inch backward, hands reached out of the darkness, grabbing him on either side and clamping over his mouth.
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Post by Deleted on Aug 17, 2010 19:18:43 GMT -5
Oh no!!!!! Keith! What's happened?!
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Post by celticbear on Aug 17, 2010 19:47:58 GMT -5
Ghost I agree with FurB, Who has Caught Keith! I hope it is a friend! Update soon!
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VolleyErica3
Beta
Cabin Lass
Music = my life *points* the green guys name is Fredward ^_^
Posts: 174
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Post by VolleyErica3 on Aug 17, 2010 21:16:13 GMT -5
GAH so many thing happened in this chapter-y-thingy!!!!!!!!!!! more soon pleaaaaaaaaase!
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Post by laurenne on Aug 17, 2010 21:33:29 GMT -5
It had better be friends that grabbed him. Can't wait for more.
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Post by CelticLass91 on Aug 17, 2010 22:42:17 GMT -5
I actually said "NO!!!" out loud as I read this! Blast it! Will you not stop giving us cliff hangers!?!?!?! lol I SOOO CAN"T WAIT FOR THE NEXT UPDATE!!!!!
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Post by celticbear on Aug 17, 2010 23:02:29 GMT -5
You and me both CL91, *CB Grabs a Pitchfork and sits on a rock till Ghost gives us another update!*
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Post by Ghost on Aug 22, 2010 13:50:08 GMT -5
He struggled violently, but whoever it was had a far stronger grip, and soon had Keith completely encircled by a meaty arm. Within seconds, the messenger's eyes were covered with a silken cloth.
Whoever it was released Keith's mouth, gruffly muttering, "Speak and you will taste my steel."
Keith kept his mouth firmly shut, unwilling to give his captor the satisfaction of killing a man with a price on his head.
Whoever it was did not bind Keith's wrists, instead holding them against the messenger's back with an iron grasp. Keith did not know how many men had captured him—whether one or several. He never felt more than two hands gripping him at once, but he suspected that there were at least two men.
His captor—or captors—pushed Keith forward until he stumbled into a walk. Forced to move blindly ahead, the messenger fought constantly to maintain his balance.
Whoever had captured him did not speak as they moved through the keep, never warning Keith of obstacles that were in his path. As a result, their progress was slowed considerably. Keith had to test almost every step before he took it.
Who could have captured him? Who could have known he was in the keep? Had Neil…? No, that was preposterous. Neil would never betray Keith, no matter how large a reward was dangled in front of him.
Keith grunted as he stubbed his toe on a step. He heard a low chuckle from the man behind him, and listened to their footfalls. Did he hear two other sets of footfalls aside from his own? It was impossible to tell.
Who could have discovered his presence? How had he squandered so much time? Where was he being taken? The questions were pointless to ask. He did not know the answers, and likely never would.
Finally, when he could not have known his location no matter how hard he tried to discern it, his captor pulled him to a halt. A door opened; Keith was pushed unceremoniously inside it. The hands released their grip on his wrists, and the door shut again.
Silence.
Keith took a breath, trying to gauge his surroundings. There was the crackle of a fire and the smell of smoke. The warmth of a fire's heat. He was standing on something soft—a rug.
He was in one of the better chambers in the castle, then. And someone was expected to occupy the room. Was it his presence, or that of another?
He relaxed, almost removed his blindfold, decided against it. He would wait a few moments longer, would attempt to discern whether someone else was in the chamber.
Keith could not hear any sound save his own slow breathing… And then, suddenly, a chair creaked, its sound magnified in the quiet that reigned over the room.
Keith froze. He was not alone.
Following the noise of the chair, there was no sound except the crackle of the fire.
And then the smooth tones of Sir Devon O'Boyle said: "You may remove your bonds, Keith Harkin."
Keith did not know what else to do, so he pushed the blindfold off his eyes and pulled it from his head. He was standing in Lord Derry's own antechamber. Sir Devon stood by the window behind Lord Derry's unoccupied desk.
The knight said with a dark grin, "Welcome back to Donegal Castle."
Keith noticed that O'Boyle's black tunic had been embroidered with gold. Gold? When did the knight begin to dress so lavishly? And why did not wear his coat of mail, as was his custom?
Keith opened his mouth (to insult O'Boyle, most likely) but the knight interrupted him before he could begin.
"We are not alone, Harkin."
The messenger followed O'Boyle's gaze to the other side of the room, by the fireplace.
Keith jolted. Lord Derry sat in the best chair by the fire, arms and legs tightly bound to the wood on which he sat, mouth filled with a ragged piece of cloth. Aside from the shadowy beginnings of a few purplish bruises on his arms and face, Lord Derry did not appear to be greatly injured.
Keith started forward to help the lord, remembered that O'Boyle was armed, and stopped himself.
"My lord?"
"He evidently cannot answer," the knight said. "But, now that we are all here, I might as well begin our little meeting."
Keith could not wrench his gaze from Lord Derry. The youth's eyes were twin blue flames, burning with anger and disbelief. And yet there was a resolute air about the young lord, the proud set of his chin an indication that he would not be daunted by this turn of events.
O'Boyle adjusted the black leather sword belt on his waist. "Judging by the absurdly long cloak you have chosen to wear, I assume that you entered the castle with the minstrel players who performed tonight." The knight smiled, adding almost to himself, "Your timing is impeccable, I must say."
Keith did not reply, but finally wrenched his gaze away from Lord Derry and turned back to O'Boyle.
The knight cleared his throat and continued, "I am always looking for opportunities, and when I see them, I do not let them pass me by."
Keith forced his frozen arms to fold across his chest, dangling the cloth of his blindfold between his fingers. He did not need to ask what opportunities O'Boyle was talking about; the knight would inform his captives soon enough. Keith only wondered why the man chose to meander around the topic instead of going straight to his purpose.
The knight left the window, striding to the front of Lord Derry's desk and leaning against it. "It has taken me years to reach this point, and within a few months, everything has fallen easily into my hands. That, my friends, is the result of good planning and good sense."
Keith glanced at Lord Derry, and found his lord's eyes afire with anger. The youth's slender arms strained visibly against their bonds, trying in vain to break through the ropes that held him in his seat.
O'Boyle chuckled. "You will only damage yourself if you continue in that manner, Damian."
Lord Derry pulled against his bonds with new energy, and Keith feared that the lord might hurt himself in his renewed attempt to break free. The messenger glanced at the knight, who had crossed his arms as he complacently watched the youth.
Ignoring the immediate danger to both himself and his lord, Keith approached Lord Derry and, leaning forward, yanked the rag out of his mouth.
"Are you all right, my lord?"
The young lord spat to rid himself of the frayed bits of cloth still in his mouth. He said, "Thank you, Keith. I assure you that I am perfectly fine. I will reward you for your loyalty when this is finished."
"A touching moment," O'Boyle said. He had not moved from his position against the desk. "But do not help him any further, Harkin, or you both with taste the sting of my blade."
Lord Derry's eyes burned, but he did not give the knight the satisfaction of a reply.
"As I was saying," O'Boyle continued, "when Neil and his band of players arrived at the castle today, I saw the perfect opportunity to rid this county of its weak young lord, blame the co-conspirators of the spy Keith Harkin, and assume the lordship myself. But then Brennan—who is the most loyal man I have ever met—got it into his head to check on the progress of the peasant's family."
Keith felt his pulse begin to throb. Shannon? The children?
"The children were gone—but I have no doubt that they will soon be found, hidden somewhere in the town of Donegal. But Shannon…Shannon was still there, waiting for whatever castle servant she had seduced into smuggling out her children—waiting for him to return to smuggle out his lover."
Keith could not breathe. O'Boyle could have killed Shannon already, and there was no possible way for Keith to know.
"Of course, how could I have known that the mysterious member of Neil Byrne's band, the player with the long green cloak who stayed in the shadows, was Keith Harkin himself? And thus, another opportunity found its way to me. Quite easily, too."
The knight paused and looked at the two dark-haired men who faced him. His words began to sink into Keith's mind. Shannon? Seduction? What did the knight mean? Surely he must know that it was Keith who rescued his children from the castle.
Lord Derry, who had been watching Keith with a frown of concentration on his face, looked away from the messenger and spoke to the knight. "Devon, if you are going to kill us, I suggest that you do so before someone meddles with your grandiose schemes."
Keith whipped his head around to look again at his lord. The youth's cheeks burned, and yet he did not seem scared. Could Keith have said such a bold thing to the face of a man who would surely soon kill him?
O'Boyle's black eyes narrowed, the only sign that Lord Derry's words had affected the knight at all. "You are in no position to threaten me, Damian. My word is as good as yours in this castle, and there are men who would follow my orders before they would follow yours. My lord."
The knight spoke these last words with such scorn that Keith, indignant on behalf of Lord Derry, wished that he had thought to conceal a dagger in his boot. Then at least, he would have the option of either striking at O'Boyle's heart or slicing the lord's bonds. He would at least have the chance to do something, and not stand here idly waiting for an inevitable death.
"You have not fulfilled your purpose, Damian," O'Boyle continued. "There is a role for you yet."
If there was a role for Lord Derry, then there was going to be a role for Keith as well. The idea of it sent a tingle of fear down the messenger's spine.
"As for you, peasant," O'Boyle said.
Keith turned his head a fraction toward the knight.
"I did not intend to do this quite so soon, but your actions have forced my hand. I would like nothing better than to kill you immediately, you know," the knight said. "But that would be too simple. And 'twould not painful enough for you. No, I have other plans for you, Harkin."
Keith urged his lungs to breathe, compelled his features and motions to remain steady.
O'Boyle, whose stance had grown tense over the past few minutes, relaxed again, and rested one hand on the hilt of his sword. Have you had the opportunity to speak privately with your wife since you returned to the castle? No? That is good. Then I shall have the pleasure of informing you about your wife's current…state."
Keith strained to maintain a blank expression in his eyes.
"Your wife is bearing a child. But, as you can well calculate, this is not your child—you have been away much too long and too often for that."
Keith pushed away the suspicions that attempted to flood his mind. He ignored the concerned gaze that Lord Derry blue eyes sent toward him. But he could not have prepared himself for what the knight said next.
"No, peasant. The child your wife bears is not yours, but mine."
The tightly-strung emotions that wound themselves through Keith's being snapped. A blind rage filled him with such hatred that he could not contain or control it. He leaped at O'Boyle's throat, only thinking that he must murder the knight on the spot.
But the knight had foreseen this. In fact, it was exactly the reaction he desired. Before Keith could reach him, O'Boyle had drawn his sword and held its point directly out to Keith's chest. The messenger was forced stopped just short of running himself through on the knight's steel.
"Stand back, peasant."
Keith swallowed and took a step backward. Every fiber in his being burned.
"Oh, do not worry that I ravished your wife in your absence," O'Boyle said. "She came to my bed quite willingly."
The knight, still holding his sword in front of him, slipped a ring off his opposite hand and began to play with it. Seemingly intent on fiddling with the jewel in his fingers, he glanced at Keith and said, "You really should not have abandoned your family in the manner that you did. What's this? I do believe I see a hint of red among the blue and green of your eyes."
Keith wanted nothing else than to knock the smug look of off the knight's face with his own sword, and then watch him as his life's blood spilled onto the rug beneath them. But he could do nothing—nothing.
A knock came at the door to the chamber.
"Ah, yes. Here comes your lovely wife now. Let her in, Brennan."
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Post by Deleted on Aug 22, 2010 14:14:15 GMT -5
. . .I think I'm quite speechless.
No, no....I've got a few words I'd like to say, but I doubt they're welcome here on Nox.
That vicious man! How dare he say such things?! Ooh.....I loathe him with a fiery passion I cannot BEGIN to conceive with words! I hope Keith maims him!!!
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Post by laurenne on Aug 22, 2010 14:22:39 GMT -5
I loved the update. Ooooh, Devon is just awful, I can't stand him. More soon, please.
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Post by CelticLass91 on Aug 22, 2010 14:37:13 GMT -5
*Gags* OH I can not STAND Devon! But I agree with Furba2eva and laurenne!
I can't wait for the next update!
andddddd-Thanks for this update! It was brilliant!
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