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|Castle In The Clouds, Chapters 35 and 36 (standard:drama, 3644 words)|
|Author: Brian Cross||Added: Sep 13 2010||Views/Reads: 1993/1075||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|John Gibbings and Veronica Day find themselves trapped on the island, while Llewellyn seeks revenge. Continuation of my drama.|
Chapter Thirty Five Veronica looked up and saw the two figures looming against the background of the church - one slim and ungainly in his stride – Llewellyn. How his stance had changed - no longer the dignified lord of the castle, and behind him - the thick set ogre, Dawson, his bearing prowling, aggressive; that of the foraging animal. She tapped Gibbings' shoulder, crouched, and then saw the pair searching steadily through the undergrowth that shielded them. 'We can make for the causeway,' she whispered. 'They haven't laid eyes on us, let's go.' Gibbings shook his head, keeping his eyes on the two men closing in. 'I'm staying put-' Veronica grabbed Gibbings' arm and tugged him towards her roughly. 'This is no time to play the hero, now come -' 'How far do you think we'll get?' Gibbings glared at her, resisting. 'You forget how well I know the island, I can lure them into a false trail, then double back while you keep yourself down, get away unseen -' Veronica eyed him dubiously. 'You know this island well enough to forget the tide was out -' 'I need to do this,' Gibbings said, his dark brows meeting. 'It is the only way.' 'Such foolishness.' Veronica ground her teeth as she swept rain from her face. 'Play the hero if you must but I am not crossing the causeway without you.' 'You won't have to; trust me, now go -' Veronica sighed, kept herself low, the lie of the land as it sank between the church and the chapel, populated by dense heather and bracken, was on her side. She headed for the causeway. * * Dawson's attention was drawn to the figure rising from the undergrowth, that of the lean, curly-haired gardener, Gibbings. But where was the woman; why was he alone?' He looked east and west, and then just a glimpse of a redhead scurrying through the undergrowth told Dawson what he needed to know - 'I see the wretched gardener,' Llewellyn shouted, 'but where is Veronica, what has he done to her?' 'He has done nothing.' Dawson scanned the wild heather, got a better look at her lithe, rain-soaked body through a thin clearing. 'She's trying to flee. She's swift, but she will not escape -' 'She runs from me.' Llewellyn clutched his hands to his head. 'Why does she do so?' 'We waste time with idle chatter about such matters -' But Llewellyn's wide-eyed gaze had become so centered on Gibbings that he failed to hear Dawson's departing words. Gibbings was the reason she fled, it hadn't been because of him - Dawson would reach his beloved Veronica, pacify her, so that she returned to him with renewed desire and heart. But the rough land would soon slow Gibbings down, he could track and catch him - and then - Llewellyn glanced down at what was contained in his right hand, produced a glazed smile - he would effect suitable retribution. He set off in pursuit with stiff leaden steps while Dawson ploughed after Veronica. * * Click here to read the rest of this story (396 more lines)
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