Highlander Oath Of The Beast Page 27

  Greta all but collapsed on the chair near the hearth.

  “The dead man who froze to death. He’s your brother, isn’t he?” Raven said, stepping closer to her. “I finally saw what I’d been missing. It was his eyes—your eyes.”

  A tear rolled down Greta’s cheek. “Aye, Knud was my brother. I feared someone here would realize it eventually. Gard, the other man, was a good friend of my brother’s. I took their knives so I could return them to their families and let them know of their heroic deed so tales would be told about them and they would live on.”

  “Your brother must have had an important message for you if he braved a snowstorm to reach you. And I can only assume that Gard followed in case your brother failed his mission.”

  Greta nodded slowly, another tear slipping from the corner of her eye. “That is probably what happened. They have been close friends since they were young.”

  “What was so important that they both braved death to reach you?” It was a question Raven believed she already had the answer to.

  Greta’s hand went to the scar on her face. “Brynjar struck our village just before dusk one day. The gods were with my brother and Gard. The two were away trading. Brynjar took me and a few other women captive along with some men. I will never speak of what he did to me,” —her hand went to the scar again— “He told me I wasn’t worth keeping, but so I would never forget him, he left me with this scar. A few other scars as well and in places a husband only has a right to see and would be reminded of each time he…” She turned her head away in shame.

  “I’m so sorry, Greta,” Raven said, aching to run her sword through the evil man. “You can rest assured Fyn is not the type of man who would let that trouble him.”

  “I have discovered that and I’m grateful to have found him.” She closed her eyes a moment as if gathering strength, then continued, “My brother and Gard found me where Brynjar had left me. It had been a couple of days. I didn’t want to live but Knud refused to let me die. Unfortunately, not all in the village were happy with my return. They feared Brynjar would return for me and…” She fought back the tears pooling in her eyes but they overflowed anyway and rolled slowly down her cheeks. “I needed a safe place. A place where no one would know my secret. A place Brynjar would never dare attack. I sought refuge with the Beast.”

  Raven needed Greta to confirm what she surmised, but before she could a horrific roar from outside had both women jumping up and running out of the cottage.

  “He changed course away from the village?” Wolf asked as he tried to make sense of it.

  Iver nodded. “He has stopped by the river and looks as if he waits. I assume he waits to hear from the warrior who went ahead of him. Or he waits for another and the one ahead of him makes sure no one lingers about.”

  “He can’t mean to cross that river,” Arran said. “The melting snow swells it and causes it to rush wildly this time of year. Could he be meeting someone from your tribe?”

  “Anything is possible, but I have yet to uncover anyone unfaithful in my tribe,” Wolf said, annoyed that it was even a possibility that someone may have betrayed him.

  “What could he wait for?” Arran asked.

  Iver shrugged. “Information?”

  The three men shook their heads.

  “None of his actions thus far make sense and yet he is up to something and I have no doubt it will bring harm to someone,” Wolf said.

  Raven rushed toward Fyn when he stumbled toward them, blood running down his face from a wound to his head.

  “He’s gone. Taken. Tait,” Fyn managed to say.

  Greta screamed and Fyn reached out and wrapped her in his arms.

  Raven let loose with a roar that would have her men rushing to her. Clive was there in no time along with Lars and Gorm. It wasn’t long before Brod was there, but she had a message rushed to George to remain where he was and that he was to let no one enter the keep until he heard from her.

  Fyn urged Greta to tend his wound so that he could join the search for Tait.

  Raven thought otherwise. “You need to stay here and protect Greta. She has much to tell you.”

  Fyn looked to Greta but her eyes were on Raven. “I beg you, please bring my son back to me and please make sure there is no chance of him ever being taken from me again.”

  “You have my word,” Raven said and joined Clive and Brod, who were huddled in talk with Lars and Gorm.

  A plan was formed quickly, men were gathered just as hastily, and Raven stood by and watched as the men set off.

  “It is good you obey your husband and remain behind,” Gorm said, standing beside her and watching the group of men disappear into the woods.

  “You should go and keep extra watch on Brynjar’s men,” Raven advised. “I go to wait in the longhouse.”

  Gorm looked to Clive. “You will stay with her.”

  “I won’t leave her side,” Clive confirmed.

  Raven watched along with Clive, Gorm hurry off, comfortable that Clive would look after Raven.

  “You know what I intend to do,” Raven said.

  “Aye,” Clive said with a nod, “and I’m right by your side.”

  Wolf and Arran scrunched behind bushes along with Iver and watched Brynjar pace not far from the river’s edge.

  “He’s impatient,” Arran whispered.

  “He waits for his warrior to bring someone to him,” Wolf said, his stomach knotting. Had he truly been after Raven all this time? Had he made it seem obvious so that they would think otherwise? Had his plan been all along to take Raven? Had he been foolish to dismiss it? Had he placed his wife in danger?

  “I see your fear for Raven,” Iver whispered. “If he sent a warrior to capture her, then wait and watch for she will deliver his body to Brynjar with a smile.”

  “She has not the strength,” Arran argued.

  Iver grinned. “She has what is needed—no fear and skill.”

  “I can attest to her fearlessness,” Arran admitted. “I watched her get into the damnedest things when she was young and the consequences didn’t discourage her in the least.”

  The knots in Wolf’s stomach grew worse and a low growl rumbled from his lips.

  Iver shook his head. “The Beast may be powerful, his attacks vicious, but the Raven flies free and waits patiently before attacking her prey and leaving them helpless.”

  A whimpering cry caught their attention and they watched as Brynjar’s warrior appeared, Tait tucked under his arm.

  “Give him over,” Brynjar ordered and the man was quick to obey.

  Tait’s skinny little arms and legs thrashed out, making the exchange difficult, but a quick slap to Tait’s face had him gasp and go still long enough for Brynjar to take hold of him by the back of his shirt, his small wool cloak having been lost in his struggle along the way.

  “Anyone see you?” Brynjar demanded.

  “No. it was easy. He was right where I had often seen him, with the tall fellow called Fyn. I left him bleeding in the snow. It will take time to find him and for them to gather and search.”

  “Good. We will be gone by then and not easily found,” Brynjar said with gleeful satisfaction.

  Wolf didn’t waste a minute, he lunged forward past the bushes and trees. Anger raged in his dark eyes and his words rolled out on a growl. “Not likely. Hand the lad over. He belongs to my tribe.”

  Brynjar turned to his warrior. “Get him!”

  The warrior rushed forward but came to an abrupt halt when Arran and Iver made themselves known, coming forward to flank Wolf.

  “Let the lad go,” Wolf ordered.

  “He belongs to me. I have every right to take him,” Brynjar said.

  It hit Wolf then, what they’d been missing. What Brynjar would risk so much to get. “He’s your son.”

  Brynjar laughed. “It took you this long to realize it?”

  “It took you this long to learn of it?” Wolf countered.

  Brynjar snarled. “I learned months ag
o. Why do you think I demanded to wed that sniveling, weak Eria? I knew she’d seek safety with you, giving me the perfect excuse to come here after her. And to torment you with attempts on your wife’s life. I didn’t care if they succeeded or not. It was pure pleasure just knowing the chaos it would cause you. When all the while, you had no idea what truly brought me here.” He shook Tait. “He’s my son and he goes with me.”

  Tait raised his little chin and cried out. “Fyn is my da.”

  Brynjar’s hand went up in the air to strike the lad.

  “Touch him and I’ll see you lose that hand and let you suffer for days before you die,” Wolf threatened, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword.

  Brynjar went to laugh and it vanished in an instant when Clive and Lars emerged from the woods to join Wolf while a line of his warriors formed behind them.

  Wolf was relieved to see his wife wasn’t with them.

  “Release the lad and I’ll see you have a swift death,” Wolf said and heard a snarling protest from Arran.

  Brynjar looked around, his own warrior having put distance between them. “I have a right to my son.”

  “You have a right to die for all you’ve done and all those you’ve made suffer,” Arran said.

  “It’s thanks to you, Arran, I learned I had a son. I left men behind after your wife’s father failed to deliver what he promised. I sent them to keep watch on Wolf. They came and went from his village, travelers stopping by for food and shelter. One of my men spotted Greta and remembered her and one look at Tait was enough to know he was my son. As soon as I found out I made plans to get him.”

  “Fyn, my da,” Tait said, tears streaming down his cheeks.

  Brynjar shook him. “I’m your da and I decide your fate. And where is Fyn? Is he here to save you?”

  “You hurt him,” Tait said, his little chin shooting up, though it quivered. “My mum will heal him.”

  “Hand the lad over,” Wolf warned.

  Brynjar backed up closer to the river. The water rushed by in an angry flow, grabbing what it could along the way and devouring it beneath the surface and when the captured debris surfaced it got sucked down again.

  “Let him go!” Arran ordered, frightened for the small lad. He didn’t know what he’d do if it was his bairn Brynjar held and he intended to make sure the evil man never got a chance to cause him such horrific fear.

  “You’ll step away and let me go or the lad will not live to see another day,” Brynjar warned.

  “You don’t want to do that, my son,” the raspy voice said.

  All eyes turned to see the leper emerge from the woods and step toward Brynjar.

  “Stay away from me, leper,” Brynjar warned, backing away from him.

  “Let the lad go, my son,” the leper said calmly. “It does no good to harm the innocent bairn.”

  “I decide my son’s fate,” Brynjar yelled.

  “Only God can decide his fate, just as he will decide yours,” the leper said, the rasp in his voice heavy.

  “Wolf the Mighty Beast thinks he will decide my fate,” Brynjar said with a laugh. “I chose how to live and I will choose how to die. And I will choose who dies with me.” His eyes went to Arran. “I will make sure to take you with me for all the trouble you’ve caused me.”

  Arran scowled, though a slight smile lingered on his lips. “Do you hear that, Brynjar? The devil is calling to you and I’m more than happy to send you to him.”

  “No devil,” Tait cried.

  “You’re already with him, son,” Brynjar said and raced to the water’s edge and held Tait out over the rushing water by the back of his shirt. “If I can’t have my son, no one can have him.”

  “Don’t,” Wolf warned, knowing he would never reach the lad in time. He was too far away. The water would gobble him up and sweep him away, and he’d be lost to them. “Let Tait go and you’ll be free to leave.”

  “You think me foolish enough to trust you. You’d see me dead and if not you another would see it done.” Brynjar snarled, the scars on his face giving him a distorted look. “Besides, it’s a good day to die.”

  He flung Tait in the air and the lad spiraled out over the river, his fearful cries stabbing at everyone. The leper didn’t hesitate. He ran toward the river ripping his cloak off and shock had mouths dropping open and eyes nearly bursting from their heads to see… Raven.

  She dove in and the rushing water swallowed her up.

  Chapter 28

  Wolf gave Arran a quick look and Arran drew his sword and ran with him. Wolf shed his furs and weapons as he went, the only thing on his mind—saving his wife and Tait. But first he had to get past Brynjar.

  Brynjar had his sword drawn and was running toward them, his eyes filled with rage. He raised his sword, ready to strike Wolf but met Arran’s sword. Wolf ran past them and dove into the river, praying he wasn’t too late.

  “Ready to die?” Arran asked, shoving Brynjar away.

  “As I said, it’s a good day to die—but not alone.” Brynjar charged at Arran,

  Arran deflected his blow easily and stepped away from him. “Do you know what I learned while you held me captive?”

  “I don’t care,” Brynjar spat.

  “You should. I watched you fight your warriors, kill those who displeased you or nearly beat you, and I learned how you fight. I waited for this day to come,” Arran said, pointing his sword at Brynjar. “I’m not going to let you have an easy death. I’m going to make sure that it’s slow and painful, make you suffer as you have made others suffer.”

  “Aren’t you worried about your sister, Wolf, and the bairn?”

  “Wolf will save them and he will expect me to give you what you deserve,” Arran said.

  Brynjar laughed and drew a knife from his belt, waving it in one hand and gripping his sword firmly in the other. “You should have listened to what I said. I chose how I lived and now I choose how I die.”

  Brynjar rushed the knife to his throat, but Arran was quicker. His sword came down on his hand taking the knife and several fingers with it.

  Brynjar roared with rage and pain.

  “You’re right. It is a good day to die and I’m going to choose how you die,” Arran said and raised his sword.

  Wolf swam some of the coldest lakes and rushing waters in his homeland, his grandfather having taught him how to survive them. He managed to keep his head above water with sheer brutal strength. It wasn’t long before he caught sight of his wife and to his surprise, she had Tait tucked high up in her arm.

  He thought he heard someone yell her name. When he was able, he cast a quick look to the shore and saw Fyn running along the water’s edge, Greta following after him.

  “RAVEN!” Fyn’s voice boomed through the air.

  Wolf was glad to see that his wife heard Fyn, her head turning his way. He also saw Fyn pointing up ahead and then he took off running. He realized what the man intended when he saw him climb out on a toppled tree limb that extended over the water.

  Fyn intended to grab them. Wolf wished he could reach them before then. He could help snag them, giving Fyn enough time to grab firm hold, but he didn’t think he’d make it.

  He saw his wife’s intentions as she got near the branch and wanted to scream at her. She hoisted Tait up high so Fyn could grab the lad and when he snatched him from her hands, she disappeared beneath the rushing water.

  Wolf was grateful Fyn rushed Tait into Greta’s arms and started running down along the water’s edge. He was trying to find another spot to snag Raven. It had to be soon. The rough water tumbling her about was exhausting her and if he or Fyn didn’t reach her soon, she’d go under never to surface again.

  The thought had him pumping his arms until they felt on fire. Fyn got his attention, waving and pointing and he saw what he pointed at. A cropping of tangled branches jutted out from the water’s edge. It could snarl them once caught in them and possibly cause them harm, but he had to take the chance. He had no other choice.

&nbs
p; Fyn waited there, marking the spot and ready to help them.

  Wolf wasn’t far from Raven and he could tell from her slow movements that her strength was waning, but she didn’t give up. She kept fighting to survive. He was nearly on top of her, a hand’s length away. He reached out anxious to grab her, keep hold of her and never let her go. The tips of his fingers grazed her arm and before he could take hold of her, she went under, the water sucking her down. He didn’t hesitate, he went under after her.

  He managed to grab her arm as the water tumbled them about and he gripped it so tight he feared he would break it. But it didn’t matter. Now that he had hold of her, he’d never let her go. He surfaced, dragging her along with him, getting his arm around her waist so he could free his other hand. He had seconds, barely seconds to spare. They were nearly on top of the tangled branches. He pushed hard against the water and swung out his hand to grab one of the bent branches and got caught in a small whirlpool that twirled him around, sending him directly into the mouth of the snarled branches ready to devour them both. He felt a hand grab his arm and bring him to an abrupt halt with only moments to spare.

  He looked to see Fyn, keeping a strong hold of his arm, and Clive stood behind him.

  Raven shivered even though she wore several wool garments and was covered in furs and she sat right beside the fire pit, the heat toasting her warm. The scowl that quickly surfaced on her husband’s face told her that he had seen her shiver and she knew what he would do. Sure enough, he grabbed another fur from a pile near the table where he stood and walked over to her.

  “You should be in bed,” he scolded, wrapping the fur around her.

  “Not without you to keep me warm,” she whispered. “So hurry and get done so I shiver no more.”

  Detta approached them before Wolf could respond and handed a tankard she held to Raven. “A good hot brew will help warm you—for now.”

  Raven smiled at the twinkle in the old woman’s eyes before she walked off.