Page 78 of The Herald's Heart
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
At the sound of running steps, Talon turned from examining the rockfall that blocked the tunnel he and Amis had been searching.
A guard skidded to a panting halt before him. “Blood, Sir Talon. We found spots of blood and two broken lanterns.”
For an instant, his vision went gray. You do not know whose blood it is. “Show us the way.”
The opening the guardsman led them to was so slim that a man moving quickly would miss it in the gloom.
“Through here, sir.” He gestured at the skinny space.
Talon squeezed himself into the crevice. Rocky walls pressed into him back and front, but with some effort, he sidled along until the passage opened into a wider cavern.
There he waited until Amis brought a torch to dispel the blackness. Once light bloomed inside the cavern, Talon examined the spots of blood on the floor. Spots that led off in an ever- thickening trail down one of three side tunnels. He took the torch from Amis, and very much afraid of what he would find at its end, Talon followed the ragged crimson line.
Had it not been for a flutter of bright blue wedged between the stones, Talon would have passed her by.
He dropped the torch to lift and hurl rocks away from Larkin. The torch sputtered and nearly went out before someone rescued it. He didn’t care.
Amis joined him on one side. “Take care where you toss these rocks, my friend. We need no other injuries this day.”
Without stopping, Talon cast one look at Amis’s solemn face. “Aye.” He took more care but did not slacken his pace.
Finally, they cleared her body of stones, and Talon leapt into the space. “Bring that torch closer, then pass the word to the other men to keep searching for any sign of Le Hourde.”
As the light grew, he saw Larkin’s chest rise and fall. She lived. Praise God. He checked her limbs for broken bones and her torso for broken ribs. He even checked her head for bumps and bruises. Nothing. Nor could he see any obvious wounds. What in all that was holy was wrong?
Best to carry her to the keep where wiser heads could examine her. She would be all right. She had to be all right.
Getting her through the crevice took extreme dexterity on both his part and Amis’s. In the end, they had to sacrifice Amis’s cloak to use as a litter. The jostling alone should have roused her. That it did not put Talon in a panic. A soon as he could, he scooped her up and headed for the stairs.
“Talon.”
“I cannot stop, Amis.”
“Aye, but you should see this.”
Impatient, he paused and shifted. “What?”
Handing his torch off to a guardsman, Amis held up his cloak. In the middle, where Larkin had lain on her back, was a large, darkly gleaming stain.
“Blood.”
Talon took the stairs at a run. Nay. His legs wanted to crumple with the dread he felt. He forced them to move, then forced more speed. He was shouting for Father Timoras by the time he reached the top of the staircase. He heard the clatter of movement from the great hall, then strode into the solar, laying Larkin face down upon the bed.
He took a cloth and soaked it in water, then turned and began to rip the bloodied gown from her back.
“Sir Talon, what are you doing? This is no time to slake your lust.”
His hands fought with Father Timoras’s as the priest tried to stop him from exposing Larkin’s wound.
“We must see how badly she is injured,” he snarled, and with one great jerk, ripped her bodice from neck to waist.
Blood covered her back so thickly that he could not tell where any injury might be. He set to work cleaning the stains, revealing three ragged stab wounds.
“Sweet Jesu,” he whispered. How could anyone survive such violence? Yet Larkin’s chest continued its shallow rise and fall. With each breath, blood seeped from the openings in her flesh.
“Father in heaven, save us,” prayed Timoras.
