Warrior Untamed (15 page)

“Even if yer actions anger the Norns themselves?”

He would not allow Bridget’s destiny to be determined by three old women who spent their days under a tree, weaving the tapestry that ensnared both their worlds.

Foot in his stirrup, he straddled his mount and prepared to leave. No matter what the cost, he would not be deterred from the path he had chosen.

“The Norns may chafe over my actions as they will,” he declared.

“Just as the Norns still chafe over Thor’s pompous little demigod mating with a Fae, yes?”

Hall dipped his head in a respectful farewell and turned his horse west to carry him outside the ring of rowans surrounding Orabilis’s home. Any question he’d had about how much she knew of his family was answered.

His secret was a secret no more.

T
HE BOY WAS
a day ahead of her. Two at most.

Brie rubbed the ashes from the cold fire pit between her fingers, then stood and dusted off her hands.

Mathew and his companion were clearly idiots. How they could make so little effort to hide their tracks, knowing they were being hunted, was beyond her. No matter their youth, they should have known better.

Unless they didn’t understand that they were being hunted.

“In which case yer even bigger fools than I thought,” she said.

It felt good to hear a human voice again, even if it was her own. It distracted her from the dark what-ifs haunting the corners of her mind. What if she didn’t find the scrolls? What if she did, but was too late to save Hall? What if . . .

“Concentrate on the work at hand, Brie,” she encouraged herself. “Dinna dally in the land of what-if. There lie the traps that suck yer will away.”

She walked slowly around the campsite, studying the ground for any other signs.

Two sets of footprints, so it was likely that Mathew and Dobbie still traveled together.

She moved farther out from the fire, squatting to examine her latest find.

Hoofprints.

Now there was a different concern. Mathew had left his mount behind when he’d run away. She knew, because she’d held its lead all the way to Rowan Cottage.

She continued to study the ground, finding at last the clue she’d sought: hoofprints over the footprints.

Someone other than her followed the two young men.

The proof marked the ground around her, and made the hair on Brie’s neck prickle as if someone watched her from the trees. But that was impossible. She’d just come through those trees and no one had been there.

All the same, she stood and scanned the site one last time, peering into the darkening gloom of the woods, working out her next decision.

She wouldn’t be able to make it much farther tonight. The last rays of the sun had already begun to disappear behind the western horizon. This spot certainly wasn’t her preference for a place to set up camp. With open ground on all sides, it wasn’t easily defensible. No running water nearby. No ready shelter should the rain return.

But it did have one big advantage: Torquil’s men had already come and gone. If she continued to ride in the dark she might overtake them, and
that
was not a prospect she found the least bit appealing.

When she met up with them, she’d prefer it be at a time of her own choosing. A time when she’d have the upper hand.

So this spot would have to do for tonight.

She gathered kindling and placed it on one side of the original fire pit. The cold made a fire necessary but, considering how close the men she trailed might be, she’d keep it small. It would be foolish to draw attention to herself.

Once her fire was built, she prepared her meal. Dried meat and hard bread. She rationalized that the lack of water made cooking difficult, but in truth, cooking had never been her strong suit. Her best efforts rarely produced any outcome other than a lumpy porridge on a good day and a burned pot on all others.

Cold food was fine. Though her stomach growled in protest, she swallowed the last bits of her meal and tried not to think of the wonderful soups Orabilis had prepared each day she’d stayed at Rowan Cottage. Perhaps tomorrow she’d keep an eye out for rabbit tracks. Fresh meat would be a welcome change from this dried, salty fare.

Before attempting to sleep, she placed her bow and quiver next to her and pulled out the short sword Orabilis had insisted she take along on her
journey. Should she find herself in close combat, it would be a much more effective weapon than the small knives she carried on her person.

Using a heavy stick, she fished a couple of large stones out of the fire pit and fit them under her furs, close to her body. With her woolens pulled tight around her to block the wind, she settled in close to the fire. She forced her eyes closed and hoped sleep would overtake her before her unruly mind had a chance to torment her with worry over all the ways she could fail in her quest.

Four days in the saddle had taken its toll and, in spite of the worries plaguing her, she quickly drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

So deep, it felt like only moments had passed when she startled awake, a crushing pain bearing down on her back.

And a sharp blade resting at her throat.

“I thought that might wake even a heavy sleeper like yerself, my lady,” a rough voice said from behind her.

She was awake all right, but with the weight of some villain’s knee pressing into her back, she couldn’t lift her head to identify her attacker.

Slowly, she edged her hand out, but as her fingers raked the edge of her blade, the weapon skittered out of her reach.

Two of them, then. The one holding her down and the one who’d kicked her weapon away.

“No, no, lass. No weapons for you,” the second
one said with a chuckle. “The way I figure it, a woman out here all alone, she’s either a runaway or a criminal. So which is it?”

“The horse is too fine for a criminal.”

A third voice, off to her left.

“She could have stolen it.”

A fourth man, on the other side of the fire.

“No. You saw her mounted as well as I did. The tack fits her too well to be stolen. Looks to have been made for her special, right down to the fancy sheath. I’d venture to guess she’s running from a new husband.”

They’d been watching her all evening. How could she have been so careless as to allow herself to be captured like this?

“Let’s have a look at what we’ve found, aye?”

The weight was lifted off her back and a hand fastened on her collar, dragging her up to her feet. There were indeed four men, spaced around the campsite, warriors from the looks of them. All leering at her like she was a piece of fresh meat up for auction.

“What in the name of the holy mother is that all over her face?”

The man holding her grabbed her chin and turned her face around for his inspection. “She’s been marked, Hamish. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

One of the others approached to peer down at her face. He licked his thumb and scrubbed it back
and forth across her forehead while her captor held her still.

“Whatever it is, it’s no coming off. Whoever put it there meant for it to stay.”

“Must be she belongs to somebody. Mayhaps they’ll pay to get their property back, aye? Anyone who went to this kind of trouble to mark it must want it badly.”

The four of them laughed at that, as if the idea of ransoming her off was one of the best they’d had.

She stilled, remaining silent as the men surrounding her plotted. Carefully, slowly, she inched her fingers toward the knife hidden at her waist.

“We’ll check the villages we pass through while we search for the boy. Mayhap we’ll go back to Tordenet wealthier men than we left.”

Tordenet?

Her hand froze as she considered her predicament. She hadn’t just been careless enough to have been taken prisoner by a band of wandering villains. She’d been taken by Torquil’s men.

She rapidly reassessed her situation. Escape from them now would be close to impossible. But since they were looking for the same ones she’d been tracking, biding her time would be no hardship.

Her best course was to let them do the heavy work of locating their prey. By then, surely she’d be able to work out the means to a successful escape.

S
QUATTING ON THE
ground, Hall rubbed a bit of dirt between his fingers and tilted his head, straining to catch any sign of the sounds he’d heard earlier. Overhead a distant thunder rumbled, setting a frown of concentration on his face.

This was no time to let his emotions get the better of him. He was too close to finding Bridget.

He rose to his feet and wiped his hands on his plaid before taking a moment to stroke the neck of his massive black horse. They’d ridden through the night with little break for the past three days. Both he and the animal were wearing down.

“Good Beli. Soon enough we’ll find her, and then I’ll give you your rest, old man.”

Hall lifted himself up onto the animal’s back and once again tipped his head to listen.

There! The sound he’d heard before was louder in that direction. A rustling, busy sound of men waking. No better time to drop in unannounced than when your prey was still slow-witted from their time in Nott’s world.

Urging his mount forward, he followed the sound, feeling more confident of his direction as the noises grew more discernible. Four men, by the sounds.

He briefly considered returning to pick up his original course. Men were of no interest to him, and Bridget would avoid encounters with any other than her intended prey.

If she
could
avoid them.

A darker possibility kept him moving forward, more quietly than before.

The warriors from Tordenet he’d encountered before had traveled in such a number. If these were the other group of Fenrir’s soldiers, they searched for the same prey that Bridget sought. Meaning they were as likely to find Bridget as they were to find Mathew and Dobbie.

He quickened his pace, intent upon all the sounds from the camp. Four men conversing as they prepared to break camp. Four men moving about, readying their mounts.

Four men. But five horses.

He stilled, bringing his mount to a halt to allow him to better concentrate on what awaited him ahead. He filtered out the noises of the forest around him and listened.

Five horses and five human hearts beating, just beyond those trees.

Hall guided Beli forward, the horse’s training allowing them to silently move close enough that Hall’s eyes might confirm the fear his ears had already predicted.

Bridget!

She sat on the ground, her legs drawn up with her forehead resting on her knees. Her arms had been pulled back and bound behind her on either side of a small tree.

If these men had harmed her in any way, they would beg for the mercies of Hela before he was finished flaying the skin from their bones.

Like a berserker in full rage, he charged forward, swinging his sword in an arc over his head. His battle cry pierced the air, echoing throughout the land, louder than any thunder overhead could ever manage.

The men in the clearing scattered. The two already mounted beat a hasty retreat into the woods; he’d worry over their fate once he’d freed Bridget.

One of the men ran toward him, sword drawn, bellowing his own war cry.

Big mistake on his part.

A downward arc of Hall’s weapon, and the warrior’s head took flight from his body. The torso teetered on lifeless feet for a moment before toppling over forward.

Bridget screamed his name and Hall reined his horse around to find her on her feet, the fourth man’s blade at her throat.

By Thor!
What had the beasts done to her face?

I
T WAS BEYOND
foolish of her to have called out Hall’s name. Brie berated herself for having given Hamish
the momentary upper hand by acknowledging her recognition. But seeing Hall here, full of life and obviously recovered, had taken her by surprise.

“Is this man the master from whom you escaped?” Hamish hissed the question into her ear as he forced her in front of him like a living shield. “Hold where you are, stranger! If it’s yer property yer after, I’m willing to strike a bargain.”

“My
property
?” Hall’s voice sounded strained as if he strangled on the question. “She is no man’s property. Take your hands from her and move away while you still can.”

Hamish tightened his hold and the cold metal of his knife pressed against Brie’s throat. This wasn’t playing out at all as she would have chosen.

“I ken who you are now,” Hamish called out. “I remember you, O’Donar. I remember how you ran away the day of the great fire. Ran away with that brother of yers to save yer own cowardly lives. I remained to battle the inferno, and our laird rewarded me well for it. I’m an officer in Tordenet’s guard while yer still naught but a penniless mercenary. Hunting some other man’s woman for him, are you?”

Hall shook his head, an almost imperceptible movement, his eyes sharp and emotionless, like those of a hawk homed in on his prey. “It was never my life I feared for, soldier. Release the woman. I give no more warnings.”

“You think I fear yer sword? With this one as my
collateral?” Hamish laughed, the cold sound sending shivers down Brie’s back. “Perhaps you canna see from up upon yer great horse what fate can so easily, so quickly befall the woman.”

With a hand wrapped in her hair, Hamish jerked Brie’s head back, stretching her neck and forcing her eyes up to the gray, overcast sky. The blade at her throat moved in a delicate arc of motion, leaving in its wake a necklace of burning pain. Not deep enough to do real damage, but inflicting a sting sharp enough to elicit an unconscious gasp.

Across the campsite, Hall lifted his sword toward the heavens and threw back his head, roaring his fury in a deafening cry that reverberated in Brie’s ears.

Thunder rumbled overhead, and the ground shifted and buckled as if it trembled before the fury of some angry god’s wrath. Lightning crackled across the sky in a pattern such as Brie had never seen.