beats on the cobblestone. He had never
been more than half a furlong behind them, then they had made a turn and
vanished.
Sitting atop his mount, he scanned the area, disgusted with
himself for losing her. Every instinct he had was resounding with alarm. He
decided to take the alley that forked off the street he was on.
It narrowed the farther he went, then widened between two rows
of vacant, multi-storied buildings. It was in the tiny square that he found
Gabrielle’s abandoned litter. His alarm mounted, but he saw no evidence of foul
play, so he did not take the time to dismount and inspect the conveyance. He
kept his horse to a quiet walk as he took a narrow street that led off the
square.
At the end of the block, the gold glitter of expensive cloth
caught his attention. He swung off his horse and picked up the partially
unwound turban that Gabrielle had worn to the king’s party. Remounting, he
headed down the next block. When he got to the thoroughfare that bisected the
street, he looked both ways. To the left, he spotted two dark figures, one in
pursuit of the other. Though, it was some distance, he could make out the shine
of gold fabric on the lead figure. Lucien spurred his horse into a gallop, no
longer concerned about stealth.
+++
Gabrielle whirled at the sound of a horse behind her. She had
no time to discern who it was for the dark figure chasing her was nearly upon
her. No more than ten paces separated them. With an agile leap off a low laying
crate, her attacker dove through the air for her. This time she did scream. Her
lungs vibrated with it in the stillness. Spinning sideways, she jumped out of
his grasp, raising her little jewel encrusted knife as she did so. His lunge
fell inches short of her shoulder. Rolling, he came to his feet, his gleaming
blade aimed at her heart.
Gabrielle brought up both of her arms to defend herself, but
was suddenly pushed aside by a fierce shove from the all white phantom who had
jumped off of his horse to land squarely between her and her assailant.
Stumbling, she fell backwards against a stone wall and collapsed, but quickly
struggled to her feet as her attacker and her defender grappled in hand-to-hand
combat a foot in front of her.
In the dark, it was hard to follow their movements, but as her
mind cleared, Gabrielle could tell the man clothed completely in white was
Lucien de Aubric. Moving out of their way, she looked beyond him and saw his distinctive
black Arabian horse. How he had come to her aid yet again, she had no idea, but
never had she been happier to see a man.
Her assailant was small, but agile, completely
indistinguishable in his all black attire. He was a quick and efficient fighter,
and the Templar had his hands full with him. Both men held long dagger-like
blades and slashed at each other whenever space between them allowed it.
Shivering with fear, Gabrielle prayed vigorously for her defender.
Lucien de Aubric moved with deadly grace and agility. It was
obvious that he knew how to street fight. At one point he leapt up the wall she
was pressed against and somersaulted over her attacker’s head to come up behind
him. He might have killed the man then, but the dark-clad villain whirled just
in time to deflect the downward thrust of the Templar blade.
Both men fought for supremacy. At last, Brother Lucien managed
to push the attacker backward and wrestle him to the ground. Grunting and
cursing, they struggled for a short while in the dirt until Lucien landed on
top of the man, raised his long knife, and brought it down with a forceful
plunge straight into the man’s chest.
Gabrielle heard the dying man’s final gurgling breath, and
shuddered as she silently uttered a prayer for his soul. The blackness of the
night became a godsend, for she was quite sure she did not want to see what lay
before her.
She heard Brother Lucien’s breath rasping in and out of his
lungs and stepped over to him to determine if he was injured. Lifting a
trembling hand
been more than half a furlong behind them, then they had made a turn and
vanished.
Sitting atop his mount, he scanned the area, disgusted with
himself for losing her. Every instinct he had was resounding with alarm. He
decided to take the alley that forked off the street he was on.
It narrowed the farther he went, then widened between two rows
of vacant, multi-storied buildings. It was in the tiny square that he found
Gabrielle’s abandoned litter. His alarm mounted, but he saw no evidence of foul
play, so he did not take the time to dismount and inspect the conveyance. He
kept his horse to a quiet walk as he took a narrow street that led off the
square.
At the end of the block, the gold glitter of expensive cloth
caught his attention. He swung off his horse and picked up the partially
unwound turban that Gabrielle had worn to the king’s party. Remounting, he
headed down the next block. When he got to the thoroughfare that bisected the
street, he looked both ways. To the left, he spotted two dark figures, one in
pursuit of the other. Though, it was some distance, he could make out the shine
of gold fabric on the lead figure. Lucien spurred his horse into a gallop, no
longer concerned about stealth.
+++
Gabrielle whirled at the sound of a horse behind her. She had
no time to discern who it was for the dark figure chasing her was nearly upon
her. No more than ten paces separated them. With an agile leap off a low laying
crate, her attacker dove through the air for her. This time she did scream. Her
lungs vibrated with it in the stillness. Spinning sideways, she jumped out of
his grasp, raising her little jewel encrusted knife as she did so. His lunge
fell inches short of her shoulder. Rolling, he came to his feet, his gleaming
blade aimed at her heart.
Gabrielle brought up both of her arms to defend herself, but
was suddenly pushed aside by a fierce shove from the all white phantom who had
jumped off of his horse to land squarely between her and her assailant.
Stumbling, she fell backwards against a stone wall and collapsed, but quickly
struggled to her feet as her attacker and her defender grappled in hand-to-hand
combat a foot in front of her.
In the dark, it was hard to follow their movements, but as her
mind cleared, Gabrielle could tell the man clothed completely in white was
Lucien de Aubric. Moving out of their way, she looked beyond him and saw his distinctive
black Arabian horse. How he had come to her aid yet again, she had no idea, but
never had she been happier to see a man.
Her assailant was small, but agile, completely
indistinguishable in his all black attire. He was a quick and efficient fighter,
and the Templar had his hands full with him. Both men held long dagger-like
blades and slashed at each other whenever space between them allowed it.
Shivering with fear, Gabrielle prayed vigorously for her defender.
Lucien de Aubric moved with deadly grace and agility. It was
obvious that he knew how to street fight. At one point he leapt up the wall she
was pressed against and somersaulted over her attacker’s head to come up behind
him. He might have killed the man then, but the dark-clad villain whirled just
in time to deflect the downward thrust of the Templar blade.
Both men fought for supremacy. At last, Brother Lucien managed
to push the attacker backward and wrestle him to the ground. Grunting and
cursing, they struggled for a short while in the dirt until Lucien landed on
top of the man, raised his long knife, and brought it down with a forceful
plunge straight into the man’s chest.
Gabrielle heard the dying man’s final gurgling breath, and
shuddered as she silently uttered a prayer for his soul. The blackness of the
night became a godsend, for she was quite sure she did not want to see what lay
before her.
She heard Brother Lucien’s breath rasping in and out of his
lungs and stepped over to him to determine if he was injured. Lifting a
trembling hand
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