Warrior Untamed (20 page)

Hall stepped forward and the boy flinched, but kept his fists lifted.

“I don’t want to fight you, Dobbie Caskie. I only want the scrolls you took from Mathew. You can keep whatever else you’ve taken.”

“Not my horse,” Eric added. “I want my horse back, too.”

“The scrolls and Eric’s horse,” Hall echoed.

Dobbie shook his head, shivering in the thin plaid he wore wrapped around his shoulders. “Can you pay? Elsewise, they willna return yer rolls of symbols. They’d as soon use them as tinder for their fire. As for yer horse, it’s long gone, I’m afraid. Sold to the laird of the MacKenzies. If you want it that bad, you’ll need to speak to him about its return.”

Hall had no intention of haggling over what had been stolen. “There will be no bargaining. You’re going to get in your boat and row yourself back out to your crannog—”

“No!” Eric interrupted. “You ken as well as I do, once he’s there, we canna touch him. They’ll simply wait until we tire of the hunt and go away.”

“As I was saying, you’ll row yourself back out there,” Hall repeated as if there had been no interruption. “And you’ll take this message to the leader
of the men inside: Return the scrolls to me within the hour, or everyone in the crannog dies. I am not open to negotiation or bargaining of any kind. Do you understand?”

Dobbie nodded and turned to run, clearly anxious to be on his way, but the big animal behind him halted his escape.

“Finn!” Hall turned to locate the warrior who traveled with the beast. “Allow the boy passage.”

“Dog! To my side,” Finn called.

Tail once again wagging like a playful puppy, the big animal trotted past Dobbie and Hall to sit down next to Finn.

Dobbie raced to retrieve his boat and hopped inside as if he expected the men to change their minds at any moment. He rowed much faster as he headed back to the crannog than he had on his way to the shore.

“I hope you’ve got yerself one hell of a plan,” Patrick muttered. “Because that one’s no likely to ever set foot on this shore again of his own free will.”

Hall had a plan, right enough.

“We wait,” he counseled, straining to hear what reception awaited the boy. “You can’t always trust the way a thing looks.”

Dobbie pulled himself up into the open gate and lifted his boat inside when he reached the crannog, shutting the gate behind him with a resounding
thud
.

The sounds of laughter assaulted Hall’s sensitive
ears, as if the whole compound found his message hugely amusing. It was exactly what he’d expected. Men who’d spent too long thinking of themselves as safe often forgot their own vulnerabilities.

“Mathew,” he called to the minstrel. “Bring me my shield.”

No sense getting caught unprepared, should the inhabitants of the crannog have bows at their disposal.

Inside the fence, a crude ladder slammed up against the side of the building and one lone man climbed up onto the roof. With a deliberate show of contempt, he turned his back and lifted his plaid, baring his arse to the men on the shore to the accompaniment of laughter drifting across the water.

A gesture the Scots had long favored, though it was beyond Hall’s understanding why they’d choose to present such a tempting target. Perhaps it was time a Northman showed them the error of their ways.

“Bridget?”

She waited behind the others, her brother doing his best to block her view of the crude display out on the water.

“Aye?”

“Do you think you could place an arrow temptingly close to our provocative friend there?”

Having seen evidence of her skill when she’d saved his life, he felt more than confident in the next step of his plan.

“Of course I can,” she responded without hesitation.

She disappeared for a few moments, returning with her bow and arrows in hand, making her way to his side.

“Shall I aim for his hairy pink arse?” she asked, a wide grin on her face.

“No need for that. Setting it directly beside him into the thatched roof will do well enough for the warning we want to send.”

Bridget lifted her bow, nocked her arrow, and let fly. The arrow whistled through the air. The men in the crannog saw it coming, and the man on the roof leapt down before it arrived to poke neatly into the thatch beside the spot where he’d stood moments before.

“Well done,” Hall murmured quietly.

A broad smile split her face and she dipped her head in acknowledgment of the compliment.

“I could have put it up his arse, if you’d asked,” she said with a shrug, though her smile remained in place.

“I have no doubt about your ability to have done exactly that,” he assured her while turning to motion Mathew to his side. “Kindle a campfire, lad. Big enough that our friends out there cannot possibly miss the flames.”

As if Bridget had read his mind, she dropped her bow to rip a strip of cloth from the tail of her shift.

“We’re sending them a warmer greeting next
time, are we no?” she asked as she wrapped the cloth around an arrow.

“Two, in fact. Can you put the first one completely over the crannog to land harmlessly in the water?”

Her grin broadened and she touched her arrow to the flame, sending the arrow skyward as the fire began to eat its way through the cloth.

Hall cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, “Last warning. The next one will be on your roof. And all the ones that follow.”

Bridget readied her next arrow, but he stopped her before she set it on fire.

“Wait. These men are thieves, not fighters. Bravery is not a trait high upon their list.”

Within minutes, the gate swung open and Dobbie reappeared. He dropped his little boat into the water and begin paddling in their direction. When he reached the shore, he climbed from the boat and pulled the scrolls out from under the plaid he wore over his shoulder.

“MacAngus says that you should take your damned scrolls and go as far away from here as you can. He asks only that you leave us in peace.”

Hall took the scrolls from the boy, unrolling one to verify it was what they sought.

The power of the markings on the parchment slithered over his skin and up his arm, crawling toward the almost-healed wound on his shoulder like lice on a rat.

There was no doubt that these were the Elven Scrolls of Niflheim.

“You may tell MacAngus that we will plague him no longer.” Hall rolled the parchment back up and tucked it away, nodding toward the boy. “And as for you, Dobbie Caskie, don’t let me catch you bedeviling any of my friends in the future. You’d be best off making your way to those relatives you claim to have on Skye, and keeping your head down. Otherwise, I can promise you, I’ll be back. And I won’t be in such a forgiving mood the next time I pass this way.”

Something told him everyone in the crannog would likely reconsider his thieving ways.

At least for a day or two.

I
T
’
S SETTLED
,
THEN
.”
Patrick MacDowylt pulled his pack from his horse and tossed it to the ground. “At first light, we head for Castle MacGahan to collect reinforcements before continuing on to Tordenet.”

“It’s not settled at all,” Hall responded, a scowl darkening his face. “Time is an issue. The longer we wait, the stronger Fenrir grows. I say we go directly there. Our success depends upon the items we carry, and how effectively we employ them, not upon the number of men in our force.”

Brie agreed with Hall but didn’t voice her opinion. Knowing this group of men as she did, she was aware that her voice could well be more detriment than help. Besides, bringing attention to herself would only lead to—

“We have to return to the castle first, in any event,” Jamesy said. “To make sure Brie and Mathew are safely behind the walls before we lead the attack on Tordenet.”

Exactly what Brie had expected. But she had no plans to accept her brother’s decree without a fight.

“You’ve no need to go to Castle MacGahan on my behalf. I’m going to Tordenet with you,” she said calmly.

“Like hell you are. Yer no going anyplace close to that castle or the Beast within.” Jamesy shook his head, his frown grown to match the best Hall had ever worn. “I’ve heard the stories of how close I came to losing my sister as well as my father to the Beast that lives there. Yer staying at Castle MacGahan, where I have no need to fash myself over yer safety. I have no appetite for losing the whole of my family to the MacDowylt.”

“Revenge for our father’s death is my right.” Brie kept her voice low. She wouldn’t be prodded into an angry confrontation over this. She might actually be getting the hang of this patience thing. “With you or without you, I intend to see Torquil MacDowylt’s debt to our family paid.”

Torquil’s and the Beast’s that lived inside him. They’d both pay.

Hall, thankfully, kept his peace in this particular battle, turning back to Patrick to press his contention that they would have better luck with a smaller party of men.

“There’s nothing to be gained in wasting time or risking additional lives. Chase told me the MacDowylt castle is rife with hidden passages. Our
number could easily slip inside and find Fenrir without involving his entire army. Or risking ours.”

“There are passages aplenty as Chase described, but that’s no the tactic Malcolm has chosen to pursue. He himself was captured sneaking in through the passage leading from the shore into the castle grounds. This time he has decreed we approach with our army and enter through the front gates.” Patrick was adamant.

“Your brother’s choice is wrongheaded,” Hall insisted. “We risk too many lives with a direct confrontation. And the longer we wait—”

“My brother, wrongheaded or no, is our laird, and his word is our law,” Patrick interrupted.

Brie walked away to lead her horse through the trees and down to the water for a drink. There was nothing to be gained by playing audience to their continuing disagreement.

In the end they would do as Patrick insisted, even though Hall was likely right that they’d have more success with fewer men. Patrick followed his older brother’s lead, just as she was expected to follow her older brother’s lead.

Only Bridget MacCulloch was no Patrick MacDowylt.

With the sword whispering encouragement in her ear, there was no way she would allow anyone else to wield it against Torquil. It was her duty. Her right. Fate had given her a second chance at the
man who’d murdered her father, and she had no intention of passing up this opportunity to redeem herself.

She had the sword in her possession and that was all she needed to accomplish her goal. Hall’s scrolls were of no importance to her. He intended to capture the Beast and confine it once more to its prison in the scrolls.

She had no interest in taking any prisoners. Whether it had been Torquil MacDowylt on his own who had ordered her father hanged, or the Beast that had driven the action, she intended to kill them both.

Hearing a noise behind her, she glanced back to find Hall leading his mount to the water.

“Will it be Tordenet or Castle MacGahan?” she asked, knowing full well what answer he would give.

“MacGahan,” he answered, irritation thick in his voice. “I’ve been overridden by the lot of them. Shortsighted, small minds.”

“I think you had the right of it,” she murmured, not daring to look at him. “For whatever my opinion is worth to you.”

“Your opinion is of high value to me. Higher than you know.”

His words gathered around her heart, warm and comforting in a way she’d never expected. If only—But no. There was no
if only
with this man. She’d already tried that.

She met his gaze, stark and serious. He lifted a hand toward her, but allowed it to drop to his side when the sounds of others coming through the underbrush reached their ears.

Damn the others for choosing that moment to join them. She wanted to thank Hall for not backing her brother’s insistence on leaving her behind. She wanted to thank him for trusting her skills in the confrontation with Dobbie and the bandits this morning. She’d even begun to consider the possibility of including him in the plan brewing in the back of her mind.

With the others approaching, that wasn’t possible now.

She’d just have to hope that he’d still hold her opinion in equally high value tomorrow morning.

With her animal settled for the night, she tossed her pack down by the fire alongside the others and began to mix the pieces of dried meat and fruits with the porridge for their evening meal while Jamesy’s friend Alex built their fire.

Keeping her thoughts to herself while she stirred the boiling oats, Brie listened to her brother and Patrick discuss their plans and their expectations for reaching Castle MacGahan tomorrow if they started early and rode into the night.

By utilizing the same strategy, rising early and riding late, she could reach her destination in only two days.

“I see you still haven’t learned to cook a decent
bowl of porridge,” her brother joked as he took his first bite.

She smiled and nodded, keeping her temper in check. If this were the last encounter she would have with Jamesy, she wouldn’t go to her reward knowing it had ended in a fight.

Besides, Jamesy had the right of it. She didn’t like cooking and it showed in the food she prepared. She’d jumped at the chance to be responsible for the meal preparation tonight for only one reason.

No one ever paid attention to where the cook repacked the supplies, and she would need to apportion out her own share of their provisions for her journey.

Finn’s big, shaggy animal nudged at her leg and she fished a few bites of dried meat from the bag next to her. Dog could be a problem when she tried to slip away, unless he was already used to taking food from her. If necessary, she’d bribe him to silence with a few more tidbits.

When they’d all finished eating, Alex offered to clean up but Brie brushed aside his offer of help, in order to prepare things as she needed them done.

Once she’d finished, she sat on her blanket next to the fire where Jamesy had laid it out for her, only feet from where the others would sleep.