Warrior’s Redemption (32 page)

He stalked from the water to the shore, his skin rippling in cold bumps as he grabbed up his plaid and wrapped it around his body, his mind already ticking off the possibilities.

A rabbit or squirrel was equally unlikely with night approaching. They would have to settle for whatever bits and pieces Christiana had managed to bring along.

He’d just reached for his shirt when the scream pierced through the forest.

It was Dani. He knew it deep inside his soul.

He dropped the shirt in favor of his sword, already running as his hand tightened around the weapon’s hilt.

This could not happen. He would not allow it to happen.

His lungs swelled in his chest as he neared the campsite, close enough to survey the field of battle from the cover of the forest.

His sister was down. Dani hovered over her like an angered boar over her piglet, with Dermid off to one side of her. Where the lad had come from, Malcolm had no time to consider, only that he appeared frozen in his fear.

Three located. Three who required his protection. With Dermid’s arrival there should be a fourth. The Elf. What had happened to the Elf?

To his left, the largest wolf he had ever seen, and straight ahead, three armed men, all advancing on his women.

The Battle Rage filled his heart as he burst into the circle, and he roared his fury as he struck, spearing his sword through the first guard’s back. The others turned, advancing on him as he withdrew his weapon, allowing the body to fall to the side.

A haze of red colored his vision, homing his concentration on the closest target. He sliced through the next man to reach him, opening his chest collarbone to belly. The man remained on his feet for a second, his body recognizing death before his mind caught up. The third, obviously young and inexperienced,
ran directly toward him, screaming his useless threats, sword held high above his head. A swift feint and Malcolm twirled, harnessing his momentum to bring his weapon around with him, delivering a clear cut that sent the man’s head rolling across the forest floor to land at the feet of the massive beast.

The wolf swung its huge head around to fix him in its sights.

Good. That was as he wanted. Whatever it took to distract the animal from his original path, which led to those he loved.

As the beast lowered its head, Malcolm had a clear view beyond. A view to the body lying at the edge of the clearing.

A woman’s body, her fiery red hair soaked in a pool of blood. A woman he recognized.

“Isabella?”

His step faltered and the beast, as if sensing the break in his concentration, roared, a sound so loud it was as if the ground shook under his feet. In the same instant it leaped toward him, impacting his body with an unimaginable force. Together they flew through the air, landing with an enormous thud, the beast on top of him.

Malcolm struggled to press his sword upward and out from his chest, the only barrier between him and the monster wolf. One hand on the hilt, one on the blade, he kept the snapping jaws at bay only inches above him. The heat of the beast’s breath splayed over his face even as great foaming globules of spittle bubbled
from the enraged animal’s muzzle, stringing down into his face to mingle with drops of his own blood from the hand holding the blade.

He must be strong. He couldn’t give in to the pain.

He was all that stood between this beast and his family, but with the Battle Rage broken, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold him off.

N
O BOOK, NO
movie, not even her wildest nightmare had ever prepared Dani for the sheer terror and violence of this moment.

Just as she’d realized that Dermid would be no help at all, Malcolm had arrived, bare-chested, the mark over his heart glowing with an unearthly light. With his speed and his sword flashing, he’d been like some death dancer sent by God.

And then, in a flash of movement and sound, the beast leapt through the air, smashing Malcolm flat to the ground.

“No!” she screamed, on her feet and running.

Not even Malcolm could hold that beast back for long.

“Help me,” she yelled to Dermid as she passed him huddled on the ground. No time to wait to see if he heard or not.

She threw herself at the beast, banging her shoulder into his side, hoping to dislodge him from his spot on Malcolm’s chest.

He barely budged, but swung his head in a wide arc, knocking her backward to the ground.

Pushing up to her feet, she rushed him a second time, screaming, tangling her fingers in his fur and pulling with all her might.

His muzzle lifted in a great roar and he swung his head at her again, sending her backward into the dirt.

The landing was hard and it took a moment to catch her breath. Her hip hurt when she stood this time. Walking was tough, running would be next to impossible, but she couldn’t give up. From this angle she could see tracks of blood along Malcolm’s side where the wolf had scored him with its claws.

Bare hands weren’t working. A weapon was what she needed. Something that could hold the animal’s attention long enough to allow Malcolm to get to his feet. She dug in the pouch at her waist as she limped back toward the wolf, her hand fastening around the only object even remotely weapon-like, the small wooden fork Malcolm had carved for her.

From behind him, she jumped onto his back and, using his fur to pull herself up, straddled him like a horse. He roared in obvious anger, tossing his head from side to side, but she held on, drawing back her arm and slicing down through the air, driving the tines of the fork into the animal’s neck.

A scream, more human than animal, reverberated through the forest as the animal reared onto his hind legs, knocking Dani from her tenuous perch. She tightened her grip in his fur in an attempt to hang on while the animal bucked and reared, but the force of his movements slung her from his back, his fur slicing into her skin as it slid through her fingers. The ground came up to meet her quickly, slamming the air from her lungs.

The great beast reared one last time before toppling over onto his side, his legs twitching even as the rest of his body stilled.

Not waiting to catch her breath, she rolled to her hands and knees, crawling toward the spot where Malcolm laid, his body unmoving. She had almost reached him when something hit her, knocking her back toward the tree line. Something that felt like an ocean wave buffeting her, picking up and tossing her as if she were nothing more than a piece of loose seaweed.

She managed to roll to her side in time to see the wolf’s body shimmer, as if she viewed it through a pane of aged wavy glass, and then erupt in a shower of sparks that flew high into the trees before they fell back to earth.

Dani ducked, covering her head with her arms as the embers rained down, burning her skin where they landed.

When she looked up again, the wolf was gone and Torquil laid in the spot where the beast had been, naked and still, the fork protruding from the side of his neck.

It didn’t matter that she didn’t understand. She didn’t care. There was only one thing that did matter to her right now.

“Malcolm!”

Her head pulsed with the force of whatever had hit her just as her body screamed out with the battering, but she pressed on, forcing herself up to her knees.

Across from her, Malcolm struggled to push up on one elbow and then roll to his stomach. Using his sword as a crutch, he managed to pull himself up and stagger toward Torquil’s body. He paused there for a moment, staring down at his brother, a myriad of emotions flowing over his face. Then, as if he’d come to some decision, he raised his sword, both hands wrapped around the hilt, prepared for the strike.

“No!” Christiana screamed, freezing his motion.

Dani had no chance to turn toward the girl before a hand fisted in her hair, jerking her head back and up. At almost the same moment, a cold, hard blade pressed against her throat.

“What is it you think to do, little brother?” Malcolm stared her direction, his face gone blank of any emotion, though he still held his sword aloft.

Little brother?
Dermid did this to her?

She tried to move and the blade stung against her tender skin, stilling her instantly.

“That’s right,
my lady
.” Dermid spit the appellation as if he called her a dirty name. “Best you not move if you value keeping you lovely neck in one piece. And as for you, Brother, step away from my lord and throw down yer weapon.”

“Yer lord?” Malcolm repeated, slowly backing away as he’d been instructed. “How can you do this to yer own flesh and blood?”

“Because Torquil treats me as an equal. I’ll sit at his right hand when he rules all. Now toss away yer
weapon or yer lady won’t live to see our soldiers arrive.”

“Torquil uses you and nothing more. He’ll never accept you as an equal because yer as much Deandrea’s son as I am.” Malcolm spoke softly as he dropped his sword to the ground, his gaze on his brother unwavering.

“No,” Dermid denied. “I’ve proven my loyalty. I’ve killed as I’ve been asked and I’ll do it again. You, yer woman, Patrick, Christiana, it matters no to me. Whatever my lord asks of me, that I will do.”

“Yer a madman as much as he,” Malcolm said, the touch of sorrow unmistakable in his voice.

“Madman, eh? We’ll see about that. Mayhap you should ask this one if she thinks me mad. What say you, Lady Danielle? Am I mad? And best you use care with yer words, my lady,” he cautioned.

With his knee pressing against her back, Dermid tightened his hold on Dani’s hair, stretching her neck backward so that she was looking up into his grinning face.

His eyes were wild. Malcolm was right. There was no sign of sanity left in him.

“No,” she whispered, closing her eyes as the sharp edge of the blade pressed into her skin.

“Well spoken,” he boomed, obviously enjoying the feel of power.

“What now?” Malcolm asked.

“Now I suspect you’ll all die. Ulfr and his men should be here any minute. And when they arrive to take charge of you, I’ll be sure this one goes quickly, aye?
Though my dagger canna take her head, it will open her up well and good to bleed her dry. And you, my beloved brother, will have the pleasure of watching as yer lady . . .” His threat unfinished, his words dissolved in an odd gurgle.

Dani opened her eyes to see the flat blade of a sword directly above her head, blood dripping down on her face a second before the grip holding her went slack. She lunged forward, away from Dermid’s grasp, twisting as she did to see what had happened.

Patrick, his face ashen, stood behind his younger brother, the blade of his sword passing through Dermid’s body. The younger man, eyes still open, toppled forward as his blade fell uselessly to the ground.

She opened her mouth, though whether to scream or cry she couldn’t be sure, and then Malcolm was there, his arms around her, clutching her tightly to his chest, murmuring soothing noises into her ear.

“Hold me,” she managed to say.

It was all she wanted in the whole of the world, just to escape in his arms, where she’d be safe forever.

H
IS WOMAN LIVED
!

Malcolm tightened his hold on Dani, almost afraid to check the line of blood at her throat. She breathed; he could feel the puffs of air against his chest. Her hands clutched at his back with a strength that would not be possible if his brother’s blade had hit its mark. Logic told him she was unharmed, but it was not logic that strangled his heart. It was fear.

He grasped her shoulders and pulled away from her, examining the wound for himself, a thin red line like a wee, tiny ribbon spun from blood.

“For the love of Freya, what’s happened to Elesyria?”

Patrick’s strangled exclamation had her struggling to get to her feet.

“Help me up,” she said, pushing against his shoulders.

“But yer hurt,” he protested, even as she pushed his hand away.

“It’s just a little cut.” She ran her hand over her throat, her eyes darting up to meet his when she touched the spot. “Hardly more than a scratch.”

He understood her drive. Her friend needed her. He stood and lifted her to her feet, holding an arm around her shoulders as she limped to the spot where Patrick cradled Elesyria in his arms, stroking her hair back from her face.

“I’ve seen this visage before,” his brother murmured to no one in particular. “In the garden, on Samhain. I thought it a trick of the moonlight.”

“What visage? What are you talking about?” Dani pushed away to drop down beside her friend. “Is she all right?”

“She lives.” Patrick answered. “I dinna ken how it’s possible considering the blood she’s lost, but she lives.”

“She wore a glamour,” Christiana observed as she joined them. “To disguise her true self, an Elf but not. The Magic dissipates when she’s no conscious to hold it in place. You’d
best bind her wounds and get out of here before Torquil’s men arrive.”

“You say that as if yer no coming with us,” Malcolm observed, not liking the sound of it one little bit. “Which you are.”

“The Dream Vision showed me what’s to come. If I go with you now, everyone dies.” She shook her head even as she backed away from him. “I remain behind, as I must.”

Leave her behind and risk her life again? No. He wouldn’t allow that. He wouldn’t be defeated by the visions of the future the Norns chose to weave. If she stayed, the danger must be eliminated.

“Then you stay without the worry of what our brother will do to you.”

Malcolm strode across the open ground to reclaim his weapon. In two more steps he stood over Torquil, arms raised. No guilt. This was the same man who’d murdered his people and threatened the woman he loved.

“No!” Christiana was on her feet, running toward him. “You canna! I’ve seen what’s to come.”

He could. With a war cry, Malcolm plunged the sword down, with all the force he could muster.

The tip of the sword struck with the sound of metal on stone, inches above Torquil’s body, as if a shield of solid air protected the man. It reverberated through Malcolm’s body, rippling through muscle and bone with the finality of the sudden halt.