Authors: Melissa Mayhue

Tags: #Romance, #General, #Historical, #Fiction

Warrior Reborn (30 page)

BOOK: Warrior Reborn

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“Has Bridget yet returned?” Hall’s question drew attention to where he stood by the fireplace.

“Bridget MacCulloch? The lass has been missing for weeks. You have knowledge of where she is?” Malcolm leaned forward in his seat.

“I wondered when I saw no sign of Tinklers in the courtyard. After her escape from Tordenet, they were to bring her back here.” Hall turned to stare into the fire. “They had a day’s head start on us.”

“But we cut cross-country because Rauf said it would be faster. Chances are they haven’t had time to get here yet.” At least that was what Chase hoped.

“I can have Eric send some of the men along the road. If they find anything . . .” Patrick shrugged. “Either way, they can get word back to us faster than if we were to simply wait.”

“Make it so,” Malcolm ordered, sounding every bit the laird of the castle.

“I’ve no wish to insult your hospitality, but I’d ask to accompany those you send. I’ve a need to speak with the Tinklers about those who traveled with them.” Hall scratched his fingers through his beard, his gaze on the fire. “If you could spare provisions and have all arranged by first light, I’d be grateful.”

“You’d be better served by having that shoulder of yers properly looked after, now that we’re here.” Christiana set her cup on the table. “A day or two of rest will do you good.”

Hall turned to acknowledge her concern, a trace
of his former smile back in place. “My wound is of small consequence, my lady, but I shall allow you to properly dress it before I leave. Which I must do with all haste, if I’m to have any hope of tracking the Sword of the Ancients.”

“For what reason would you seek a weapon of that reputed power?” Syrie asked.

“Because, my lady Syrie, it is the only weapon that will serve to fell Torquil when he rides against Castle MacGahan in the spring.”

Malcolm rubbed a spot between his eyes. “So you believe he will yet bring his men to attack us. I had hoped—”

“No, Malcolm,” Syrie interrupted, bouncing to her feet to pace the room. “You don’t understand what this man is telling us. Why would you need the Sword of the Ancients to meet Torquil in battle? For that matter, by what reason do you possibly expect to find it?”

Syrie came to a stop in front of Hall, her hands rising to her hips like those of a mother accusing her child of carrying stories. Though the sight of the two of them squaring off should have been funny, the petite redhead’s challenge of his enormous friend was anything but amusing.

Chase might have attributed the tension tightening his chest to his imagination, had Christiana not slid her hand into his. One look at her and he knew she felt it, too.

“I believe there is a trail because Torquil had the
Sword in his possession, and now it’s gone. But not with him. I suspect one of the minstrels, the surviving minstrel, might have . . .” Hall paused, choosing his words carefully. “He might have liberated the weapon. Along with the Elven Scrolls of Niflheim.”

Syrie gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth as Patrick rose and all but lunged to her side.

“Torquil had access to the dark Magic of the scrolls? That would certainly explain the drain on my powers I experienced at Tordenet. As it would explain your need to find the weapon. Our need.” She waved Patrick off and resumed pacing. “He is possessed, I assume. Have you any idea what it is we deal with?”

Hall shrugged. “An heir to Odin? Fenrir would be my best guess. Especially after seeing the condition in which he left one of the minstrels.”

That memory was all too fresh in Chase’s mind, as well.

“I would appreciate an explanation,” Malcolm said, looking to his sister. “Christiana?”

Her fingers tightened in Chase’s grip. “I canna give one to you. I have seen no hint of this in my Vision travels. But I believe it. What I saw staring out of Torquil’s eyes was not our brother.”

“Little wonder you were unable to see such as this from the Norn’s world, Mistress Christiana. A
seid
as black and as ancient as the Elven scrolls hold would be beyond the power of the Norns’ accounting.”

“What is this Fenrir?” Chase looked to Hall. “You’ve mentioned that name before.”

“A monstrous wolf-creature of legend, enemy to Odin.”

“Oh my God, Malcolm.” Danielle dropped to her husband’s side, wrapping her hand around his arm. “That’s exactly what we saw in the clearing. That enormous wolf that tried to kill you in the woods. The thing that turned into your brother after I stabbed him.”

“With the stake of rowan wood,” Christiana added.

“A fork, actually,” Danielle murmured, sinking back against Malcolm.

“I’m guessing we need to find these scrolls and make sure they’re locked away somewhere, too.” Chase again looked to his friend for confirmation. “And I’m also guessing we won’t be the only ones looking for this stuff. Am I right?”

“You are correct, little brother. All the more reason why I must be off at first light.”

T
hirty-nine

M
EET ME OUTSIDE
the entry doors. I’ll wait for you.”

Christiana paused to make sure Chase had heard her whispered request over the noise and clamor of the great hall. Though she appreciated the celebration in honor of her arrival, she’d not been allowed one single minute alone with him since they’d arrived.

She casually made her way down the long aisle separating the two halves of the great hall, stopping to acknowledge the greetings and good tidings from the people she hoped she would one day think of as friends and family.

Once through the entry, she moved behind the door to wait. Chase arrived only minutes after her, his face breaking into the smile that set off the fire in her belly each time she saw it.

“Come with me,” she invited, holding out her hand to lead him down the hallway to her brother’s solar. It was only used for formal meetings, Syrie had informed her, since Malcolm preferred
conducting his business from the sitting room upstairs.

She lifted a small torch from the wall as she opened the door to the dark room, and they quickly slipped inside.

Almost before the door shut, he closed his arms around her, turning the smolder in her belly to flames as his lips covered hers.

“I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever get you to myself again,” he murmured after he broke the kiss. “It feels as if someone has been hanging over my shoulder every minute since we left Tordenet.”

She felt the same, and it had only gotten worse since they’d arrived at Castle MacGahan.

“I suspect my brothers fear for my virtue, now that they ken how I feel about you. I also suspect they will go out of their way to keep us apart until . . .”

Her tongue suddenly tripped and her face heated with embarrassment. Though Chase had declared his love for her, he’d not indicated any desire to wed her. And even if he did harbor such a desire, she wasn’t at all sure it was the fate the gods had in store for them.

“Until?” he asked. “Until what?”

She had no intention of pursuing that question just yet. Besides, she had another reason for wanting to speak to him alone.

“I’ve something I need to show you.”

From her pocket she pulled the little bag of runes,
its cloth now charred and almost too fragile to withstand being opened. She emptied the contents into her hand, clutching the little treasure tightly before extending her fingers to display the dark lump resting on the flat of her palm.

“What is it?”

“When you first came to me, I called upon the gods to share with me what the path of our future might hold. I drew from my bag of runes to seek their answer. This”—she rolled the lump on her palm—“was their answer. I managed to save it from the fire before you pulled me out of the tower.”

“This little lump of charcoal is why you fought me off when I was trying to get you out of there?” Chase brushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. “I thought you’d lost your mind. So this was your answer from the gods. What did they tell you that was important enough for you to crawl through fire to try to save?”

Again she lifted her hand toward him. “The runes I drew represent us. One for you and one for me.
Tiwaz,
the warrior, and
Berkana,
the birch tree. The first advises courage and strength of conviction, while the second is a harbinger of new beginnings, of rebirth.”

“And yet, I only see one thing in your hand.”

“It is as if they are melted together—something I’ve never seen wood do before, though, in truth, they were very old.” She forced a smile to her lips
though she felt only sorrow over the loss. “Where there were two, now there is only one.”

Chase picked up the wooden treasure between his thumb and forefinger, holding it out at arm’s length in front of the open window so that it almost looked as if it floated on the surface of the moon framed there.

“I can’t promise you that I’ll always believe in the things you believe in. I can’t promise that I’ll accept that our future is already set in stone by some old women weaving under a big tree. But I agree with what your gods are telling you with this, Christy. We are meant to be one. Both of us are warriors in this life, calling upon the strength of our conviction that we belong together. Both of us have been given the gift of rebirth into a new life.”

He lifted her palm to his lips, pressing a kiss to the spot before replacing the rune into her hand.

“You hang on to that, love. I don’t know what’s to come for us, but I do know that little treasure in your hand is the best symbol I can imagine for our new life. Here. Together. As one.”

MELISSA MAYHUE is the award-winning author of
Warrior’s Redemption,
as well as the Daughters of the Glen series:
Thirty Nights with a Highland Husband, Highland Guardian, Soul of a Highlander, A Highlander’s Destiny, A Highlander’s Homecoming, Healing the Highlander,
and
Highlander’s Curse.
She and her family live in Colorado in the shadow of the beautiful Rocky Mountains with two insanely spoiled dogs, one domineering cat, a turtle with attitude, and way too many fish in their aquarium. You can visit her website at
www.MelissaMayhue.com
.

A
LSO BY
M
ELISSA
M
AYHUE

Thirty Nights with a Highland Husband

Highland Guardian

Soul of a Highlander

A Highlander of Her Own

A Highlander’s Destiny

A Highlander’s Homecoming

Healing the Highlander

Highlander’s Curse

Warrior’s Redemption