The Killing Moor

Part 10
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Riddick stood in the doorway of his chamber watching his love sleep, watching over her while she rested. The sickness she'd experienced the last few mornings had him nervous and on edge. Mary had not one morning of sickness with Johns and now he found himself sorely lacking the youthful detachment he had with her then. He could slay fifty English in the space of an afternoon but his legs threatened to give way if he had to watch Guenivere's ashen complexion just before she retched once more. He sighed and ran a trembling hand across his face.

"She'll be right as rain once she wakes, Laird Riddick. She's strong and filled with love for that wee little one." The voice came from behind him as a gentle hand touched his arm. He turned and nodded seeing the ancient features of Mary's mother there, smiling. "She loves you as well, lad. There are things about her that are much like my Mary and things at are so very different." She tilted her head and met Riddick's eyes. "You've made a good match with this one. You'll keep her, hear me? She's the one that was destined for you."

It was then over her shoulder that he saw Daniel and Damon rushing up the stairs, two men he trusted with his home, his family, his life.

"It's Duncan, Riddick. He's riding to Dovanshire. He has that big sword of his father's slung across his back." Daniel huffed, winded from their long hard ride across the moor. "It's a fight he's looking for, for sure."

Damon then met Riddick's gaze and delivered the final and last piece of information they had, knowing it wouldn't sit well with their laird. "Johns is with him, Riddick, riding at his side. The boy looks as if he's not a care in the world."

Riddick nodded and looked back to Guenivere. "There's no need to worry yourself, Laird. I'll stay with her. I swear on my sweet Mary I'll not leave her side, not leave her for a moment."

"I'll meet him on the moor. I'll not have blood spilt here . Not have her seeing this," he told to the two men.

"Then we'll be riding with you. We'll not have it any other way," Daniel said, looking to Damon and receiving a affirmative shake of the head. "I don't trust the bastard. I've heard whispers of the man he's become and it's not a good thing."



Down the stair and out to the stable the three proceeded. Instructions passed from Riddick to the two as he lead his horse, one that resembled his beloved Bastion but wasn't, from the stall. The tall warhorse remained still and alert, much as his father had, as Riddick continued conversation with the two.

"There is one thing that I demand above all else..." He gracefully found his seat upon the horse and pinned Daniel and Damon with a commanding gaze. "Johns is not to be touched no matter his action, no matter the outcome. Repeat these words as a vow that I've just spoken."

Both men were eager to comply as they rode out onto the lush gree land. "Your son is not to be touched, Laird."

* * * * * *

Duncan glanced sidelong as Johns, feeling everything his lover felt, in tuned to the fullest. "You're frightened, my love?"

Trying to fasten the bravest of faces, the young man gave a single nod and gazed at Duncan from under long, thick lashes, his hands tight around the reins he held. "The man who sired me is sure to be angry … angry enough to induce the horror he exhibits in the name of so called goodness and mercy." His voice lowered as a slow shiver coursed through him. "I would not for the world that he hurt you, beloved lord."

Duncan maneuvered his horse so close to Johns that there wasn't an inch of space between the beasts, reaching out he caressed the younger man's cheek. "Your worries are of naught. My victory is assured." He sighed feeling the softness of Johns skin, even the sprinkling of new-grown hair at his chin didn't detract from it. "But you must tell me this. Will you think ill of me for slaying your father? For I will if it comes to that, Johns."

The smaller hand moved to caress the more mature fingers that caressed his cheek. "How could I ever think ill of you, my lord? My love?" As if an insatiable need overtook him, Johns took the hand in his and, with a newly born boldness born of sexual intimacy, pulled the decidedly male palm to him mouth and slowly slid his warm, wet tongue over the wonderfully roughened skin. "He will try to take me from your hold." He allowed the tip of his tongue to slip across the sensitive skin between each long, thick digit of his lover's hand. "He will try to abscond with me … thinking me his child … his chattel." Youthful, desperate eyes looked into the more knowledgeable eyes for assurance.

He moaned deep in his throat considering pulling his love from his horse and having with him there on the ground, coupling in a wild frenzy until they were both sated. But Duncan knew it would last only moments, he'd learned that in the weeks that Johns had shared his bed. "He'll not, Johns, I know your father well. He sees you as his child, true. But nothing less than a man. He wasn't much older than you when he was told of the betrothal to your mother," he explained, a moment of wistfulness wound around him and then was suddenly gone.

A sudden dullness appeared in Johns' eyes. "You mean to say that he'll not want me anymore than he wanted my mother?" His grasp held tight with Duncan's. "Flesh of his flesh, and he wants nothing of me." Pleading eyes held the elder man, the edge of a moist, pink tongue trailing over nervous lip tantalizingly. "He never wanted me. I never belonged to him." A moment of silence followed before barely inaudible words were spoken. "But I belong to you." Johns smiled with as much courage as he could muster. "Slay him or not … I makes little difference in my mind." His hand moved to quickly caress the strong thigh of his lover before slowly removing his touch, uncertain if public notice of their affair would anger Duncan. "I have no more feeling for him than I do for the gnats that congregate around dung."

Duncan gave him a curt nod and a smile esereserved only for Johns, loving and open, sweetly seductive. "No matter your true kin, Johns, you are loved by me and that shall see you though all the winters of your life."

"And I shall always be yours." Johns' eyes glanced toward the looming landscape. "Let it be finished quickly."

"It will, my love. This I swear to you." He held Johns' eyes for a moment and then turned his to the horizon. Turned them to see his once brother now turned foe advance upon.
.

Riddick stared across the distance at his son, so close to Duncan he could swear caresses were being exchanged and then dismissed the notion.

"Johns will be set in harms way here, Riddick. I can feel it in me bones, sure as Satan calls he'll be injured in this," Daniel warned.

Riddick cast a stern look at the other man. "I'll not listen to it, Daniel. I have to do what is right here. I want Johns safe." He kicked the stallion into a fast gait and drew near the two.

"What is your intention here, Duncan?" Riddick called the sword sheathed at his back fairly humming through his skin.

"You know my intention, Brother. You have something that belongs to me," he barked, anger sparking in his eyes and lending a hard edge to his tongue. "My whore is my own, Riddick. I'll thank you to return my wife. I'll bare you no ill will should you do this that I ask. Only she will pay for her insolence, for her disloyalty to her laird."

Johns sat tall in saddle, a smile of pride on his face for the courage of his love … a slight sneer pointed directly at Riddick.

Riddick growled, his fierce voice vibrating through the air around him. "She is your wife, you vile bastard. Not a pet, not a whore, your wife." He felt the pre battle tremble in his limbs, trembling that was filled with an energizing strength. "She is with child. My child, Duncan."

"Your bastard, more like," spat Johns. "Since when do you care so much for the spawn you sire?"

"Leave off, Johns, this is no business of yours. You've chosen a bad road with Duncan. You're my son but only you can know your mind," he called, trying to urge Johns not to be embroiled in the coming battle.

"I stand with my lord," the young man snapped, his hand tightening again on the reins. "I stand with he who would never bed the wife of his clans brother." He sniffed indignantly. "I can only hopat yat your lusty whore was worth the betrayal you have caused."

Duncan waved a hand , silencing Johns. "It'll do you no good to keep with this."

"Will you return my wife, Riddick?" Duncan shouted, loud enough for Riddick's men to hear.

"No!" he bellowed, kicking the horse below into a ground eating pace and unsheathing the board sword at his back.

Duncan gave a brief parting glance to Johns and followed suit. Sword raised he met Riddick head on.

The clash of steel rang out across the moor as both men were knocked from their mounts with the first blow of battle.

Riddick was the first to gain his footing, striking point down at Duncan, who rolled to avoid being skewered with the thick blade

Duncan, agile and graceful, kicked out at Riddick and caught him along the hip throwing him off balance.
amblambling to his feet he arked the air and made for his enemy's gut, barely avoiding the whistling slice of Duncan's sword.

"Death will meet you quickly on this battle field!"

Riddick countered and plunged towards Duncan, cutting neatly into his shoulder. There was a whimper of pain from the other man but he didn't retreat, didn't fall. Blood spread quickly across the white linen of the shirt Duncan wore. "Looks as if you will be the one to die this dfriefriend," Riddick said, claiming the small victory of first blood.

With a sound something akin to a scream of torment, Johns barreled forward. Aghast, a look of horror paled his youthful features. "DUNCAN!" The cry filled the air as he attempted to move heaven and earth to reach his only love.

Collecting himself, Duncan seized Riddicks advantage. With his own pride turned against him, there was a deep gash neatly drawn across Riddick's thigh.

It was then that a flash leapt between them just as Riddick recovered and thrust his sword home. Burying it deep in young and forgiving flesh, blood rolled from lips gone blue fountained from around the hilt of the sword.

In that instant, the warm, youthful spirit that was Johns spasmed in pain. Only one thought imprinted itself into his mind … only one yearning … Duncan, he willed as he fell toward the ground.

Duncan fell to his knees beside Johns, his world narrowing to that body, that soul, his love he would soon lose. "Johns, my love, my life." Duncan's voice as low and soothing, needing these last moment to sustain himoughough the rest of his life without his lover. "Nothing will separate us, not even death. And I will make this moment right, slay the man that has taken you from this life."

Johns' hand, weakened from the loss of blood and the fatal blow, tightened one last time around the hand of the man who had become his life. At that moment, he would have sold his soul to the dark prince for only a few more moments with his love.

With a river of crimson blood coursing down his thigh Riddick staggered back from the dying form of his son, sick and horrified at what had just occurred, what he himself had dealt the boy. Johns was slipping into the arms of death and there was nothing he could do to stop it. "Forgive me," was the simple phrase issued from the Laird of Dovanshire, from Richard Riddick.

Duncan looked up and spat. "You'll have none here." Looking back to Johns, tears slipped down his cheeks dropping to mingle with the frothing oxygen rich blood that purged from Johns' lips. "I will now and forever love you, Johns." With his final goodbye he leaned in and sealed his lips with Johns, drinking in the blood of his lover, feeling the flow of energy and life that his love's last gift had given him.

As the life's blood hummed along his veins everything faded from his mind, from his body, but the need for vengeance. The only real sort of vengeance, that of a lost love. "Death will meet you slowly this day, Riddick. I will cut flesh from your bones in slow torturous ribbons with you screaming for my mercy all the while. You've taken the only love I wished from me. The only body that belonged against mine," Gaining his footing in the same instant Riddick advanced, the battle raged on, away from the cooling still body of Johns.

Damon and Daniel rode forward. The larger of the two, Damon, removed his cloak as he leapt from his horse. Kneeling beside Johns, he wrapped the body and allowed Daniel to help him lift their Laird's son onto the back of his horse. Turning, they silently watched advantaged won and lost, a failed thrust, a glancing blow. It was a battle to the death and they understood the moor would likely be painted red before it came to an end.

The battle waged for hour after hour, both men fighting their bodies as well as each other. Both men felt the sharp sting of over extended muscles, the low moan of fatigue, the ache of clotting numerous wounds. The day as well as life was soon to be done for one. The one that miss stepped with his fading strength and found the hilt of the other's sword that ran him straight through. Riddick stumbled backward, eyes wide and gasping for breath. His eyes pinned on his foe as the light faded around them.

But it was Duncan that pitched backwards, the point of the sword nailing him to the ground, his eyes dull with pain and the fading life inside. "Oh, but you think you've won, Riddick. You have done nothing more than set me free, sent me to my destiny. Given me the means to slowly feast upon your kin and clan. Make me the god I seek to be, Riddick. That's all you've done this day." Duncan gave a shutter and died there much like his lover on the stained red ground of the moor, the ground that would come to be known to generations as the killing moor.

The keep was warm in the autumn night, with hearths ablaze. But the warmth didn't penetrate into the hearts of those the resided there. The news of young Johns' death had spread quickly and the long mourning began. Riddick lay in the room next to the one where Guenivere lay sleeping, his wounds were being quickly stitched and washed. "She'll be fine, my Lord. She was just a wee bit upset when you weren't here when she woke." Mar mot mother patted his arm as she lay aside the needled and allowed him to stand from the bed.

"I'll see her now."

* * * * * * *

Tire eyes flew open, a low cry escaping full lips. 'Riddick!" Guenivere gasped, her shoulders lifting from the bed in an attempt to raise herself from the soft bed. "My lord … Riddick?" She needed to see him to rid herself of this sickening feeling … then one that made her believe she would not lay eyes on him again.

"I'm here, woman." A tired smiled lined his face as he eased down to the bed beside her. "We must speak..."

Her hands moved to his face, tears beginning to drip from the corner of her eyes. "Oh, my lord … my love," she spoke in slight sobs as she kissed his cheek with tender passion. "I feared I'd lost you!"

"You've not lost me....Not this day or any other." He sighed, reclining on the bed and pulling her with him. "Today it is a betrothed you've gained."

She looked at him in confusion, not daring to hope. "He's dead, then?" Her fingers tenderly ran along the outline of one of his stitched wounds. "He ceases to exist and you bear the scars for me?"

"For us, my love. I ran him through with my sword. He draws breath no more," Riddick assured, meeting her concerned and uncertain gaze. "But there is more that I bare the scar of this day. Johns ...my son..." he began, his voice strained and choked with sorrow.

Tears filled eyeseyes as she shook her head, unwilling to comprehend. "No! Dear God, no, Riddick! Johns?" She buried her head in his chest and held back the sob realizing that she was an unwilling factor behind the death of Johns … the son of than man she loved more than life itself. Her arm moved to wrap around her belly as she felt a sickening deep in its pit. "I'm sorry, Riddick," she breathed. "I'm so very sorry."

"Do not speak of sorry, my love. For you've had no hand in Johns death. He was used in the most vile manner." He reached out drawing her closer to him, cupping her cheek. "Johns was Duncan's lover."

A shocked gasp escaped her throat as her head raised, her eyes meeting his. "Say it isn't so, my lord!" Her mind reeled at the concept, unwilling to believe that Duncan's cruelty could extend to the realm of youths … her heart a vortex of compassion for the child.

"It was as I've said. There seemed to be love between them. Duncan spoke of undying love and devotion to Johns as he drew his last breath. But it matters not now. They lay cold ready to be lowered into the earth." His moment of outward emotion passed and he lifted her hair to kiss her head gently.

She burrowed into his side feeling the strength from his being seep into her. Her hand splayed across tard ard plane of his chest and caressed gently, a mixture of comfort and love. "Your loss was great this day, my love." Taking his hand, she eased it onto the surface of her belly. "I will spend the rest of my life seeing to it that you are happy with a keep filled with children, family and love." She dropped several tender kisses on his chest before resting her head there with an emotional sigh.

Riddick nodded, losing himself in a emotional tidal wave inside. Losing himself to the moments of the fight that day where things could have been changed, where he could have saved his son. How had it changed so fast in his life … Duncan, once a brother turned to a deadly foe, his son lost to the love of another man? How could such things happen? The questions wormed their way through his head and he turned wrapping his strong well-used arms around the woman that would soon be his wife.

Settling her head onto the hard muscle of his shoulder, Guenivere could feel the intensity that boiled within him. So much had been lost to him in so little time, and it was all because of the love they shared. "I would not for the world see you vexed, dearest one." A smooth hand trailed the contours of his rippled abdomen as she spoke softly, her breath fanning his skin. "Would that I could take the pain from your troubled heart and mind."

"Sweet woman, my love knows no bounds for you but even it can not sooth this day's end,"whiswhispered sadly. In that moment, all the seconds of Johns' young life found their way to his mind's eyes. He again heard his son's first cries, again saw his first teetering steps, so many moments he had lived through, so many he had missed. Life would be forever missing now, missing his son. His heart would be dark where Johns had once been.