The Danu (7 page)

Khalon took hold of
Katrine's hand, pulled it under his arm, and around his body enough that he
could kiss the tips of her fingers.  It pushed the softness of her breasts
against his back, which felt unbelievably good.  The shoving of her other hand
against his back was less that effective in making him let go.  The Outcast
looked a moment from self-combusting.  The evil little gits eyes were like
black holes in his face and he shook off with a hard shove any man that sought
to get his attention away from the two Southern Warriors and the girl he
thirsted so unnaturally for.  Unfortunately he did not, as Khalon hoped, rush
across the space separating them and attack Khalon.  Shame that.  He really
wanted to pop the man’s staring eyes out.   Perhaps he might still get the
chance.

"He will try to take
you," Khalon said almost happily, ignoring her gasp and attempt to
retrieve her fingers.

"If he did not have
intentions to before," she snapped grimly.  "He certainly will
now."

Katrine wanted to smack
the prince right upside the head.  After that little show of claiming and challenge,
Renault would be frothing at the mouth to kill Khalon, and claim her.  Rather
than look concerned Khalon smiled at the promise of retribution in the other man’s
eyes.  If Renault had any sense, which he did not, that predatory, baring of
teeth would have convinced him to stay far away.  She would have thought twice
had he looked at her that way.  It was equal parts blood lust and
determination.  In his mind, Renault was already torn apart and buried.  The
man just didn't know it yet.

Without another word, he
turned and adjusting his grip so that Katrine walked before him instead of
behind, his big body pushed her forward, and out of the Outcast's sights. 
Though it was not her they were looking at now, she saw when she peeked around
the two big men to see.  Even Renault had his cold dead eyes on Khalon's back
rather than hers.  Katrine stumbled a bit against the big warrior before she
could steady her usually steady legs. 

Was the enemy prince
protecting her, making himself a bigger target so that the other man would be
determined to go through him before coming for Katrine?  Why would he do that
for a Danu witch?  Katrine spared Khalon one more searching look before they
entered the warm darkness of the Inn.

There was no more chance
to worry about Renault or The Prince’s intentions because before the men had
even started on their salty pork meal there was another commotion outside. 
This one had most of the travelers scurrying to make themselves scarce, as no
one wanted to stick around when a battalion of Southern Warriors led by a
Prince of the Realm showed up.  When Katrine first heard the whispers, she
assumed that someone had recognized Khalon.  She looked at him over her own
meal of greens and berries.  The pained look on his face told her there was
more going on here than she thought. 

Ragnar was cursing again
even as the double doors that led to the outside were pushed open and three
powerful Southern Warriors walked through.  One of them was roughly the size of
Ragnar, and Katrine wondered if they were all giants in the south.  Then she
saw the unmistakable resemblance to Khalon around the eyes and knew she was
meeting another warrior prince. 

Unlike Khalon, he wore
the dark purple cape of royal office over his warrior leathers.  He scowled
from a face that was beautiful and frightening enough to own his title.  A
sickle shaped scar sat on his right cheek, that and the frost in his ice blue
eyes told Katrine his identity.  The two blade sharp warriors flanking him
looked like they dealt death for a living but next to this man they were
insignificant.  Prince Ansgar Morten, Holder of Horth, War General of the
Southern Isles, crowned prince and heir to the throne.  He was also know far
and wide as Ansgar the Bloody.

Those frosty eyes scanned
the room, landed on their table and, without seeing anyone else, he came at
them.  Everyone who had not already scurried away did so quickly enough now. 
When his eyes landed on Katrine and narrowed unpleasantly, she wanted nothing
else but to scurry with them.  He came to a stop towering over their table.  When
he spoke, he was as cold as the ice in his eyes.

"Why isn't she in
irons?"  As first words went, it wasn't a promising beginning.

Khalon did not bother to
stand for his brother, though Ragnar did, stepping back from the table
diplomatically.  Only Katrine spared him a glance, and saw his eyes were on the
two men with Prince Ansgar, and his hand was clenched tight on his own sword. 
Khalon's face once again resembled the expressionless mask Katrine had only see
from him one other time.  When he had been with his troops going through the
city of Haven the first time she saw him.  In that moment she was reminded once
again that he was first and foremost his father’s enforcer.

"What are you doing
here Ansgar?"  His voice was grim and not the least bit deferential.  If anything,
he sounded angry.

"Father heard the
same rumor you did, and sent word to Horth for you."  Ansgar’s words were
cutting, and his eyes a blade that did not look away from Katrine. 
"Imagine my surprise when I received his message and realized you had left
your men behind, not on a royal order, as you suggested, but for reasons of
your own.  I arrived at Haven not long after you left and got the story from
the Captain of the guard.  I followed after you to make sure the witch arrived at
Dunsen without any further
miscommunication.
Now I have answered your
question, perhaps you would be so good as to answer mine?"  The last was
clearly more an order than a request, and it had Khalon bristling, as much as
the way Ansgar fingered his sword pommel and looked at Katrine with intent
seemed to anger him.

"She is not in irons
for the same reason you have wasted a trip," Khalon spoke low and through
his teeth.  "I have her well in hand."

Katrine would have took
exception to that remark if it weren’t for the look on his brother’s face.  He
wanted there to be a problem, so he could solve it with his steel once and for
all.

"Since you are
here," Khalon spoke again, this time with less heat.  "You might as
well join us for a meal.  If anyone is still here after you and your men sent
them all scurrying to safety."

The teasing nor the
invitation did not soften either man.  Ansgar sat in Ragnar’s abandoned chair
beside Khalon and across from Katrine.  He even looked away from her forced
serenity long enough to eye his brother.  His eyes were back on Katrine soon
enough, even as he dug into the new trencher of food that was soon placed
before him, he watched her.  Ragnar’s abandoned trencher and cup were whisked
away and he and the other two men eyed each other balefully at the next table
over.  They sat and ate as well, with seeming ease, but no one in the room was
fooled.  You could cut the tension with a knife at both tables.

Katrine seemed to be the
only one who had lost her appetite, but she refused to show weakness, eating
the last of her meal as if she had no worries, even if it did churn in her
belly.

After a particularly long
suspicious study from the man before her Katrine's chin went up, and she
watched as Ansgar the Bloody narrowed his eyes at the perceived challenge.

It was Khalon who spoke, distracting
his brother.  "Did father say anything else in the message?"

"Only that if she is
Danu he wants her brought to the palace unharmed."  It was clear from the
tone of his voice that the bloody prince did not agree with the unharmed part. 
"He forgets, I think, what they are capable of."

Khalon snorted drawing
his brother’s eyes.  "Father forgets nothing," he assured his
brother.  "You can be sure he has his reasons."

"Maybe, but in this
instance his reasons are less important that the danger he invites to his door
step."  He stabbed a slab of beef with his knife and lifted it to tear a
large hunk off with his sharp white teeth.  "The witch is too dangerous to
live, let alone visit with the King."

Katrine tensed up at the
message in those cold words but Khalon turned glacial, and deadly. 
"Careful brother, it is not your decision to make, and the girl is under
my protection."

Ansgar snorted, clearly
not seeing the deadly promise in his brother’s eyes.  How could he?  He was too
busy planning Katrine's death.  "You may have been in the South when the
battle of the wilds took place, but I was here, I watched thousands die in
these cursed woods.  My men, brothers, swallowed by magic and green places.  I
know exactly what the deceptively soft little witch is capable of."

Katrine did not realize
she had drawn a knife until Khalon reached over and pulled it from her hand.  She
allowed it only because she had more.

His words were for both
of them, even though he spoke to the bloody prince.  "The war is over,
brother."

"Our people never
wanted a war to begin with," Katrine said through a partially closed
throat, her words coming out as a harsh whisper, coated by her own rage. 
"It was you and your troops that burned the wilds, killed the Danu and
brought the destruction of the woods on your own heads."

Ansgar the Bloody
actually laughed at her words, harsh and raw though the sound was, it made
Katrine angrier.  "My brother may not have been there.  I saw firsthand
what your kind is capable of."  The rest he spit out with derision. 
"It was not peace."

"You brought fire
and flame to the wilds, not us, and then you blamed the Danu for what the wilds
did to protect itself."

"I saw it.  I saw
your kind wielding magic, turning the very ground against us.  It is not
something that I can un-see."  He stood with a loud screech of his chair
to tower over her, his food forgotten in his anger at her words.  “Your King
spewed peace with the same serene eyes I see in your witch eyes.  And stabbed
us in the back just as fast as you will.”

Katrine did not even care
that he looked ready to strike her dead, she was suddenly just as angry. 
"You see nothing," Katrine snapped back at him, finally finding her
full voice.  "You burned the wilds!  The Danu are all dead for nothing!  Your
men died for nothing!  The green is more dangerous now than it ever was.  Have
you asked yourself why that is, or do you intend to wallow in your blindness
forever?"

Ansgar growled, and it
turned into an angry roar as he lunged across the table at Katrine.  Khalon cursed,
reaching for his brother.  He need not have bothered, Katrine was not there for
Ansgar to strangle, which is what it looked like he wanted to do.  She moved so
fast she was summersaulted up on the table and out of the way before he crashed
down where she had been.  She smashed his own trencher of food over his bigoted
hate filled head.  There was a struggle at the table besides them that rivaled
their own and Katrine turned to see Ragnar was dealing with the Royal Prince’s
guards.  Katrine pulled a knife and threw it in almost the same move.  The
Guard Ragnar had already beat down, dropped the blade he had just pulled with a
curse.  He yanked Katrine’s blade out of his hand a moment later.  His eyes on
Katrine promising mayhem.

"Enough,"
Khalon shouted.  Making everything around him stop.  When Katrine looked he had
a chokehold on his brother that was obviously firm, and enraging the bloody
prince further.  "Enough!"  Khalon roared again, shoving his brother
to the side and into the arms of his wounded guard.  The other one was shaking
his head and trying to stand from a position under the table.  Ragnar stood
above him with a bench made of solid Oak in his hands ready to use it again. 
"The Kings orders are to bring her in unharmed," he said loudly
before his brother could speak and no doubt call for his head.  "You may
be the heir but you are not the King yet," he finished low and in a
warning growl.

"And if she turns
the ground of Dunsen against you and kills you all?"  The rage still in
his eyes, Ansgar was listening at least.  Even if his head was bleeding and his
eyes were calling for her blood as payment.

"The Royal Palace
sits on stone, as does most of the city.  Danu magic does not work on solid
rock."  Khalon's answer was mild enough.  He came around the table and
stood between Katrine and his brother just the same.  "I will take my
chances outside the wilds.  In the meantime know that the girl is mine to
protect, do not make the mistake of forgetting that again, or brother or no,
Crowned Prince and general or no, you will suffer more than a bloody gash on
your hard head."

***

The room was clean and
dry, and better, it had hard walls and a stout door.  It was a good thing
because the evening before they had passed from one weave into another.  She
had felt the pull like warm taffy stretched too thin before the break had her
visibly flinching and nearly crying out.  Now her own weave was in tatters
making her feel both vulnerable and sickly.  Khalon had sensed something
because his arm had tightened around her waist and his hot breath had been on
her ear.

"You are well?"

"Fine," she
said her words a little breathless from the pain but otherwise normal.  She was
not about to tell him then or now, how leaving a weave affected The Danu, and
thankfully he let the moment go.  Ever since then her energy had been sapping
slowly away.  If she had been traveling within the magical boundaries of the wilds,
she could have lasted a significant distance, but traveling next to it without
touching, that was harder, so a little privacy, stout walls between her and her
many enemies, and a soft bed were all she asked.  Though a bath was on her list
as well, if it could be managed before she fell over.

Sadly, none of that was
available if the big warrior, who stood at her door with eyes that saw
everything on her, did not get out.

"Surely you could
guard me from the hallway?"

Khalon raised a brow at
her snippy comment. "Perhaps, if you had less enemies.  I would be a poor
protector indeed if I let my brothers men take you through yonder
window."  He shrugged his broad shoulders.  "And as much as I would
love to sleep in the hall, I'm afraid that Ragnar and I will both be sleeping
in here."  He gave her a half smile.  "You can have the bed, of
course.  We have our bed rolls."

She would have liked to
argue but she knew he was right, there were too many enemies here, his brother
could open many doors, amazingly enough, the Outcasts were the least of her
problems since his brother’s arrival, and Khalon himself had jumped from enemy
to protector in her thoughts.  She was too tired to talk herself out of
trusting him tonight.  She needed sleep, and despite his stalwart appearance,
beneath that stubborn dirt streaked and smelly warrior was a tired man who had
faced down his own brother to protect her.

She sighed anyway. 
"I was hoping to bathe," she said mildly trying without success not
to sound whiny.

"As am I,"
Khalon said with a look in his eyes that she did not want to interpret. 
"Once Ragnar has a chance to clear the place and get himself cleaned up,
we will head down."

Katrine sat on the foot
of the bed and a plume of dust surrounded her.  It was not from poor housekeeping;
the prince had greased some palms and got them a clean room, with a bed that
smelled of lavender satchels.  The only things dirty in the room were her and
Khalon. 

She grimaced, too tired
to get up again.  "I don't think I'm up for traipsing to the river, nor
would I wish to bathe in plain view of soldiers or outcasts."