Date: Sun, 11 Jun 1995 17:17:24 +0300 Reply-To: Marko Lidman Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Marko Lidman Subject: In The Dark II of VII IN THE DARK (c) by Marko Lidman PART II 1702, France, Anjou Francis Carrera walked around the town with one of his friends from the theater. He had tried to go home and think a bit, but it had just made him more nervous. He had partially succeeded in forgetting all the strange happenings of the previous night, just the nagging feeling was still there. Somehow everything seemed to have changed. 'Heck! Everything HAS changed; I'm still alive! It shouldn't have happened! No-one can heal from such wounds overnight,' Francis thought frightenedly. Suddenly he came aware of his friend, Nicolas, who was trying to get his attention. "..Francis.. Hey! Are you listening to me?" "Sorry, Nic, I was thinking about something else. What were you saying?" "I asked where you were last night? You should have been here when Chardin's daughters came to our little private party!" "Well, I had something else to do," suddenly Francis saw the guard, he had been fighting against last night, coming towards him with some other soldiers. "Hey, could we go to that tavern over there and have something to drink?" "Oui, we can, but you avoided my question. What could have been more important than this festival? It is not like we had them every week!" "There is this one girl I'm interested in... You know, lord Daumier's daughter." "Are you crazy? Nobody dares to go near her; her father would beat or even kill anyone who tried it!" Francis ducked in to tavern quickly as he saw the guards getting closer. 'How the hell I'm going to get out without them seeing me? Think fast now!' He thought to himself when he and Nicolas sat to a table near the back wall and ordered two tankards of mead. "That is just the reason why I went there last night, because her father was here in town to play this 'caring little leader' for us." "Shush! Don't talk like that about him in here! You get yourself in troubles." "The trouble is that I already am in troubles! Guards saw me last night as I was entering the building." "You stupid... whatever! Not only you get yourself in a trouble but you decided to take me with you, ha? Did they see you well enough to identify you?" "I know I acted stupidly... and they will probably know me if they see me again. In fact they just came in here." "Oh my God, I'm out of here, you'll have to take care of yourself." Nicolas got up and sneaked past the arriving soldiers. Francis sat stunned, looking after his so-called friend as he disappeared through door. His inconsiderateness resulted in one of the soldiers identifying him and before Francis had time to get away, the guards had him surrounded. Francis wasn't a bad swordsman but fighting against five men in closed surroundings wouldn't work. Surrender was the only option. "You, boy. Come with us. Lord Daumier wants to have a little chat with you." "Okay, I'll come." "Commander! This man cannot be alive! I surely ran him through last night! This must be devil's work! And with all the blood he left behind, he couldn't even sit here!" "Jacques! Shut up! Let lord Daumier deal with this guy. He is here now and he ain't going to get away from us again!" Francis stood up and let the soldiers disarm him, silently blaming himself of everything what had happened in the past few days. 'I'm stupid, stupid, stupid! I should have never tried to rob that guy again. Why couldn't I just be happy with what I already had?' Soldiers, staying as far away from him as they safely could, guided Francis out of the tavern. Francis could see the fear in other customers' eyes as they all had heard what the soldier had said. -------------------- Lord Daumier was just making some finishing touches to the letter he was writing to King Ludwig XIV when he felt something he had already suspected. The little nagging pain in his head. The burglar was like him! He really couldn't believe it. 'I've covered all my tracks. How did anyone find me here? Or is this just some coincidence?... Well, I'll find out soon enough.' Lord Daumier cleaned his table and took out his heavy rapier and put it on his table. Then he stood in front of the table as his servant knocked on the door and came in. "Milord, commander Carnot is here to see you. He says that he's got the burglar." "Send him in, I'm really interested in seeing this 'burglar' of ours." The sight surprised lord Daumier. The guy his guards dragged in was frightened, not as calm as their kind normally were in these circumstances. It could only mean one thing. "Milord, here is the burglar of ours. What do you want me to do with him?" "Just take that plain chair from the corner and put in on the middle of the floor. And would you be so kind as to remove the carpet? I don't really want to get any stains on it." As his men worked, Daumier looked at the boy more closely. It was clear that this boy didn't know about his destiny. He was just too panicked. 'This might prove to be fun.' When the soldiers had finished their work, they forced Francis to sit on the plain chair and two of them stayed behind him as others left the room. Commander Carnot, one of the two men who had stayed in the room, gave Carrera's rapier to Daumier who took it in his hands and Francis could see his eyes flash. "Well, well, well. As you should know I'm lord Daumier, protector and ruler of this region. May I ask what your name is?" Daumier's voice was deceptively kind. "Milord, my name is Francis Carrera. I'm really sorry for what I did." "I don't think that being sorry is enough right now, but let's talk about something else first. You said your name is Carrera? Oui, then you must be the storekeepers boy, your father is still pushing quite heavily considering his old age. You should have thought about him before you started this line of action, your papa won't be happy when he hears about this. He might even approve my way of punishing you." Lord Daumiers laugh promised something nasty. "Then there is this other thing: I'm sure I've heard that you are into some acrobatics-stuff and that is definitely a kind of trade you don't make much money on. So where did you get this rapier of yours? You or your father couldn't afford one of this quality." "Milord, it is a gift. I got it from my uncle who lives in Paris. He's a wealthy merchant and I'm sure that he would be ready to pay for any damages I've done." "Didn't I just say we would talk about something else first, we can discuss your dept to me later? This sword of yours looks like a piece I should have got last year from a merchant who visited me. He had a few really interesting swords there but this was supposed to be the best. Unfortunately he didn't know where he had lost it and so I couldn't catch the one who took it, but now you have flown right here to me." "Milord! I can assure you that I had no idea that this sword was stolen! I would have never accepted it if I had!" "Sorry, boy, your admittedly quick lies won't help you out of this. I've seen too many people lying to me and I know the signs when I see them." Lord Daumier turned to the guards, his eyes gleaming in expectation. "Guards, get him up from that chair and hold him still as I teach him a lesson he'll never have time to forget." As the guards obeyed, Francis could see murder in lord Daumier's eyes and hear it in his words. Guards held Francis by his hands and he could feel that guards themselves were a little unsure about lord Daumier's intentions and so their grip wasn't really as tight as it could have been. As lord Daumier raised the sword, panic mounted in Francis's mind. When Daumier started his hacking movement for Francis's neck Francis threw himself forwards and then quickly back and down again, thus getting the guards in front of him. The guard holding his left hand took the full blast of the rapier on his neck and as blood sprayed from his severed artery he collapsed and lost his grip. With his freed hand Francis drew a sword from the guard who was still holding his right arm and in the same motion stabbed the guard in his side enough to persuade him to let his arm free. The soldier, without a weapon, backed up to the nearest wall and waited for a right gap to get Francis from behind. Lord Daumier saw he had made a mistake. He had been too sure of himself and it had cost him his best man's life, it was commander Carnot who was bathing in his own blood on the floor. Lord Daumier got a hold of himself and turned back to his opponent who had already outlived his miserable life. He stepped a few feet backwards and took his own sword from the table, as he didn't want to underestimate the boy again he wanted to fight with a blade he knew. "Soldier, stay away from this. I'll deal with this guy myself." "Oui, milord," soldier sounded disappointed. Francis was in trouble. The sword he was holding was clearly designed for a right-handed fencer and he was a leftie. There was a sword on a floor but its owner didn't want to give it up as he lay on top of it. He really couldn't escape either because there surely were some guards behind that sturdy door. Daumier charged for Francis's midsection, which Francis easily deflected side-stepping left and parrying with his sword. Normally he would have gone right, but he didn't want to turn his back towards the guard who, despite Daumier's orders, was still there looking for a chance to do something. Carrera's counterattack was parried as well and Daumier moved back between Francis and his sword on the table. Daumier seemed to know about Francis's desire to get his own sword. 'Oh well, once and a while man has to fight on other rules than his own.' Daumier slashed high, which Francis ducked and simultaneously thrust his own sword forwards. Daumier stepped quickly aside but still got a nasty wound on his right side. He groaned and faked to be badly injured. Francis got his hopes up and charged with slow but effective slash. But long before he even had a chance to begin his attack, Daumier seemed to recover and he slashed a bad wound on Francis's swordhand. Francis dropped his sword and couldn't do anything else but dodge Daumier's subsequent attacks. Francis crouched a little and the backflipped away from steadily advancing lord Daumier and landed surely on his feet behind dead commander Carnot. Quickly he tried to grab the stuck sword from under the commander, but failed. "Now you are going to get it," lord Daumier shouted when he jumped forward. Luckily for Francis, Daumier slipped in late Commander Carnots blood and fell on his back. Carrera saw his only chance and sped past the cursing man and took his own sword from the table. As Francis turned back to face his opponent, he suddenly realised that the pain in his right arm had gone. He looked at it and saw no trace of the wound! The soldier leaning on the wall saw this too, in fact he saw that both combatants had lost their wounds. Slowly he began to inch towards the door, hoping to remain unnoticed. Lord Daumier realised that the soldier had seen too much and hurried up to finish him. Soldiers yell of panic was heard behind the door and someone started pounding the door. As Daumier tried to free his sword from the dead soldier, Francis jumped elegantly behind him and ran him through. Daumier fell on the floor, dead. Pounding behind the door increased and Francis could hear someone rattling keys on the lock. Once again Francis had no time to think about all the strange things that had happened to him. At least his headache was gone now. Francis looked around the room, something he hadn't had time to do earlier. There were some drawers and shelves around but nothing interesting. Except for one thing; there was a door on the right wall, half covered by curtain. Francis decided to look what was on the other side before crashing through any windows. The door wasn't locked and so Francis came to a room full of old weapons and other artefacts. The swords caught Francis's eyes, there were strangely curved swords as well as swords so ornate that they surely weren't made for combat. Francis closed the door behind him and locked it with a key he found on the other side of the door. He left the key in the lock, so even if those who came through the first door had a spare key it wouldn't do them any good. -------------------- Francis Carrera, burglar of his own choice, had come to a room of which he had dreamed the other night. Unfortunately, this time around he hadn't so much time and he had to quickly pick up some easy-to-carry -valuables. First he opened a chest he saw in the back wall of the room, luckily it was open. Inside he found several pouches full of Louis d'ors and few little pouches of gems. He took the gems and two pouches of the gold coins. Then he started to look around among the weapons. Voices behind the door increased as soldiers got in to the other room. Francis could make out some muffled sentences. "Commander! Commander is dead!" "So is lord Daumier! Where is that bastard?" "He must have gone to the other room!" Francis heard some men behind the locked door and started to look for a way to escape. There were windows to inner garden but they were barred, only way seemed to be those skylights about twelve feet above him. Francis looked around him. No tables, only few usable weapons and a chest. 'What can I make out of these?' Francis wondered, collecting some pole-weapons at the same time, offhandedly tucking a jewelled dagger inside his shirt. He piled the poles in a middle of the room and considered his situation; Once again his greed had put him in trouble, it would have been wiser to crash through the windows of study than to come in here to find himself trapped. Francis dragged the heavy chest to under the skylights. Pole-vaulting was his first try. First he broke one of the skylights with a pole-axe, then walked to furthest wall and ran the short distance to chest, placing one end of the pole on the base of the chest thus trying to build up enough upwards- momentum to get to the broken skylight to but his speed was too slow. He couldn't even get his feet of the floor. Voices behind the door increased again when soldiers seemed to realise that they couldn't open the door with their keys. Someone began picking the lock, trying to push the key, which Francis had left on the lock, away. Francis took a pair of longer poles, lances, and tried to set them standing so that he might try climbing them, but lances were too short. 'Oh my God, I'm stupid!' Francis realised. He picked up the pole-axe again and used its blade like a hook, thus hooking the weapon to the frame of the broken skylight so that he could climb the pole. Just as he was starting to climb the pole, he saw a small painting hanging on a wall. It was a painting of Dorine Daumier, the lord Daumier's daughter. The Key dropped to the floor. The door slammed open. As soldiers ran in they found an empty room with a pole-axe swaying from a broken skylight and then dropping. As lord Daumier's servants and daughter later searched the room to find out what was missing, they found out that the burglar had taken money, a dagger and one special little painting. -------------------- More of this in the near future... From RAPIER! * The secret of a warm heart is a fireplace | __ (just throw it in to the flames...) |/ \ Check out my WWW-page for a cool gif of a rapier O[&%&%&%<====>================================================- \_____/|\__/ Dedicated Amiga-user now and in the future | -Rapier (malidman@kauhajoki.fi) * (http://kauhajoki.fi/~malidman/) =========================================================================