Branded By Etain (9 page)

“Both Picts and Vikings, some say.” She dashed to the table and retrieved her hairbrush. “Others speak of berserker beasts with bear-like heads and claws. Many claim to have seen the beasts. Some say they are like bears, some say they are wingless dragons.” She worked at the tangles at the ends of her long curls.

Brand shrugged on the blue tunic he had been wearing before their tryst and the dark material masked his face for a moment.

Her hand stilled at the expression he wore. He looked like a Viking raider in that moment, teeth bared, brows knitted, slashes of red staining the prominent line of his cheekbones.

“Is aught amiss, my lord?”

For a moment the only sounds in the room were the filtered cawing of gulls and the muted sounds from the bailey, cart wheels on the cobbled stones, men shouting to each other, and the low bleating of goats and sheep.

He dashed the lid down, sat on the trunk, and donned his knee-high doeskin boots. “Nay. I merely consider how to defend remote villages. Who has seen these beasts? When was the first sighting? Where have they been sighted?”

“Taske has been here,” Brand muttered, keeping his tone too low for any but Nikolas to hear.

His brother stumbled, but regained his balance and rhythm in mid-stride. “Nay. Taske is dead.”

“Étaín told me the beasts have been seen by many on this isle. Some say they are bears, some say wingless dragons. They first appeared last spring and destroyed a coastal village on the borders of King Mac Eiccnigh mac Dalagh’s realm. Since then, they’ve raided the coastal settlements regularly. The attacks ceased once the channels froze, but they resumed on first clearing this spring.”

Brand could not repress the bleak images of all that had happened after Bá Brestá Isle’s lone mountain erupted and spewed vile ash and lava. A fortnight after the first explosion, the bulls in the herds of cattle ran amok, killing newborn calves and attacking each other. Brand and the rest of the people in the settlement had watched helplessly when all save two or three bulls rammed their skulls into rocks over and over until they collapsed and died, a black foam speckled with dark blood spewing from their mouths.

“’Tis nigh unbelievable. How did our brother survive the eruption?” Nikolas asked. “Think you he had the same dream warning you did?”

“How else could he and his men have escaped the river of fire that destroyed our settlement?” Brand rolled his shoulders, but the move did naught to relieve the tension knitting his muscles. The bitter recollections of the year before surged anew.

By mid-spring, dense clouds of ash blacked out the sun and kept the isle in a perpetual dusk. With no sunlight or rain, the crops and grasses withered and died. What little sustenance there was came from the ocean.

Few slept, too afeared of the incessant dream-weaving and the necessity of always being on guard from assault by the man-beasts who ravaged the herds of swine and what was left of the cattle.

The dream warning had happened at the start of the summer. The moment he fell asleep, images of the mountain imploding and destroying the entire island filled Brand’s dreams. With each passing day, the mountain’s eruptions intensified in frequency, force, and duration. It had not taken much effort to persuade the remaining men, women, and children they had to leave at once. ’Twere not for their hasty flight to the nearby isle of Sceirdiúil, the Bärvik warrior line that had served Norse kings for time immemorial would’ve been eradicated.

On Sceirdiúil during the long winter that followed Brand, Nikolas, and most of their clan had learned to control the dream-weaving that haunted not only their nights, but every waking moment as well.

“Brother, to me,” Nikolas barked. “The king approaches.”

Brand shook his head to clear away his morbid recollections. He forced his focus onto the monarch striding in their direction.

They had arrived at the entrance to the great hall.

A brisk breeze chopped across the long chamber carrying the sweet aroma of fresh pine logs burning. ’Twas not yet noon, but already the hall buzzed with workers preparing for the meal; elderly men and women scrubbed the pocked trestle tables, three males on the verge of manhood stoked the two fireplaces, and the odd kitchen boy shooed hounds and goats through the open double doors.

“Lord Brand, I would have a word with you.” King Mac Eiccnigh mac Dalagh halted an arm’s length from Brand.

The monarch wore the purple-dyed cloak of his station and carried a metal scepter topped with the massive carving of a crown. Alternating green and red-jeweled stones embedded on the points of the crown sparkled in the rays of sunlight streaming from the open windows above them.

What now?

Brand strangled a frustrated growl. The king had listened to Brand’s news of Gunnar’s intended invasion with an absent disinterest that had annoyed him to no end. “At your pleasure, my liege.”

“Lord Nikolas, your captain, Thorkell, is searching for you. He and several of your men await you in the bailey. Lord Brand, we will adjourn to my library.” Mac Eiccnigh pointed his royal staff at a door half-hidden by high arched alcove.

Nikolas sketched a bow, murmured his thanks, and marched to the hall’s entrance.

Brand followed in the king’s footsteps. The monarch unlocked the solid oak door with a heavy brass key, shoved the wood to one side, and waved Brand inside.

While Mac Eiccnigh secured the room, Brand examined the chamber, his curiosity piqued by an intricately carved burnished shelf that held nine leather-bound tomes. The gold lettering on one captured his attention. He drew closer and tilted his head to see the lettering. Somewhat awed by not only the number of manuscripts, but the incredible workmanship, Brand could not stopper an impulsive query. “How come you by a copy of Consolation of Philosophy?”

The king’s bushy brows winged up. “Know you the works of Boethius?”

“Aye. My father’s stepbrother established a monastery on the northern coast of Alba. Nikolas and I lived there for many years.” Brand traced the elaborate P in the title.

“You read?” The king rested his scepter against the wall and waved at one of the five chairs ringing a low table.

“Aye.” Brand adjusted his sword and then sat.

Mac Eiccnigh situated himself opposite Brand. He steepled his hands. “I would tell you a tale about my daughter, your wife.”

Brand stiffened. “As you wish, my liege.”

“Étaín came into her truthsaying upon the onset of her courses. ’Tis the way of it with all the women of her line. Word of her ability spread across this isle. Most believed her born of the fair folk and capable of powerful magik. Seven summers ago, she was abducted by one who wished to use her magik to advance himself, Eachan the Younger.”

Rumors of Étaín’s kidnapping had reached Brand’s ears, but he had not been able to discern the details. He studied the monarch intently, but noticed no signs of unease.

“My daughter is stubborn, proud, and loyal. She refused Eachan’s commands and would not help him, even after he had her whipped and tortured.”

Étaín had been tortured? Brand swallowed the bile rushing up his gullet. He gripped the chair’s carved arms and strived to control the fury roiling within him. Eachan the Younger would die by his hand.

“When physical abuse would not force Étaín to cooperate, Eachan sent for the mothers and babes of his own castle. Étaín had paid attention to one wee babe in particular and Eachan had noticed. He gave Étaín a choice—do his bidding or he would kill the babe. She could not believe any capable of such a terrible act and refused his command. He killed the babe.”

Brand’s stomach rioted. “She saw?”

“Aye. He told her every time she displeased him or refused to do as he ordered, he would kill a babe. How many times has she asked you if she pleases you?”

A bolt of lightning-hot rage surged through Brand. He lurched to his feet, dragged both hands through his hair, and paced a tight circle. Then, hands fisted, he faced Mac Eiccnigh. “Eachan still lives?”

He would tear the man apart limb by limb.

“Nay. Think you I would show that villain any mercy? He died by my hand.”

The news did naught to abate Brand’s anger. How could any injure one so innocent as Étaín? He slumped back into the chair.

“I tell you of this so you will understand my daughter’s desperate need to please all. She is a truthsayer, and as such, cannot tell a falsehood.”

Brand jerked to attention. He frowned and cocked his head, wondering what the monarch was trying to convey.

“Étaín survived her time in Eachan’s keep by learning how to distract his attention. She is wily in that regard. ’Tis why I assigned Cedilla, Gavin, and the rest of her guards to always attend her. They full well know her ways. ’Tis how I discovered her infatuation with you.”

“You did naught to halt it.” Brand gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes, daring Mac Eiccnigh to say otherwise.

“Nay. I have long despaired that Étaín would never marry. Eachan, you see, attempted to rape her daily while she was his prisoner.”

Brand shot out of the chair. He grasped his sword’s hilt, the need to brandish his weapon and slash at this Eachan nigh overpowering. A frenzied wrath crashed over him, an inferno of heat no mountain’s eruption could ever match. He shook his head. “She came to me a virgin.”

“Aye. Étaín’s magik is not limited to truthsaying. No man can take her by force. She must consent. Only those who love her can hurt her. She carries a veil of protection.”

Halting his manic striding from one corner to the other, Brand snapped, “What mean you by that?”

“I have told you all that I can. You must learn the rest from Étaín.” The monarch expelled a long sigh. “She has given you her trust. Do naught to break it. Methinks you should speak to her of your intentions.”

Too astounded to reply, Brand simply gaped at the king when he rose from the chair and gathered his staff. “My intentions?”

“You sought to gain my kingdom by fair or foul means. Think you I did not know your men stood poised to attack if Étaín did not choose you? That you plan to bring your people to settle here at Caul Cairlinne?” Mac Eiccnigh pounded his staff on the stone floor.

“How do you know of this?” Brand barked, his ire rising. Who had betrayed him?

“All of my daughters have magik in them. Keara, my youngest, is a soothsayer. She predicted your coming to me this past winter.”

“You could have had me slain. Yet you did naught to stop my actions. I would know the reason.” He locked the king’s gaze.

“You are the only man she has e’er shown any interest. I would have Étaín happy. She yearns to be loved and to give love. Harm a hair on her head, or injure her heart, and I will have you slain. Trust in that.”

Mac Eiccnigh meant every word he uttered, and in that moment, Brand understood how the man came to the throne. Power and charisma radiated from him, and sunlight from the lone window in the chamber streamed around him like a halo. Shivers scraped the back of Brand’s neck.

“I tell you all this now because we must appear as one on the dais at the noon meal. Irvin has returned. My spies tell me he has formed an alliance with this Gunnar you speak of. ’Tis best if he believes we know naught of his scheming. Long has he lusted after Étaín. Be on guard.”

•●•

“Is aught amiss, my lord? Does the food displease you?” Étaín searched Brand’s face, certain something had happened to cause him to be terse and irritated.

“How oft does Irvin visit?”

Startled, she replied without thinking, “Too oft since Mama died. I own, Irvin makes me uneasy. I like it not when he comes across me when I am alone—”

What had she said? Étaín pressed a fist to her mouth. Brand would think her an ill-mannered simpleton who spoke her thoughts. “Pray forgive me, my lord, for uttering such a discourtesy. Irvin is my mother’s cousin, and I must respect him as such.”

Brand gathered her twitching fingers between his warm hands. “I would have you not hide your unease from me. ’Tis a feeling you should always listen to. Many times my life and that of my family has been saved because of a niggling disquiet about a stranger. Do not worry, Étaín, I will not leave you alone with Irvin. He will not harm you. I protect what is mine, and you are mine now.”