Midnight Warrior (34 page)

When they reached the top of the hill, she stopped and took in the sight below. Gwynthal.

Verdant dense forests; solitary and sensuous. Blue lakes. Rich, rolling farmland. This was the Gwynthal she remembered, the Gwynthal of a thousand dreams.

She turned and said eagerly, “See? Didn’t I tell you? Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Everything is still green here,” Adwen murmured. “The leaves are only starting to fall. How extraordinary.”

“The interior of the island is all valley. I think the cliffs protect us from most of the harsher weather. I can remember perhaps only one snow a year as a child.” She pointed in the distance. “Look, you can see the towers of the castle from here.”

Gray towers and battlements wreathed in mists, waiting for her.

I’ve come home, Hevald. I’ve come home.

“How long is the journey?” Malik asked.

“Two days.” She indicated a forest beyond the castle. “And that’s Falkhaar Forest.”

“Where you grew up?”

She nodded as she stood, looking at the forest. “We had a small cottage near the castle. It’s where we’ve always lived, since the days of Hevald. I wonder if it’s still there.…”

“Why shouldn’t it be?” Gage asked. “The weather is mild and without flaw and, if there are no robbers or sinners of any sort on your island, the cottage should be as you left it. Surely you don’t have doubts?”

She lifted her chin at the faint mockery in his tone. “I have no doubts.” She set out down the hill toward the village. “It was a slip of the tongue.”

“Your village is very quiet,” Adwen said as she paused to peer into the window of a shop. “I’ve seen
only a few people and they ran into their houses and shut the door when they saw us.”

“They’re not used to outsiders. No one comes here.” But she wasn’t a stranger, Brynn thought. She belonged here and, unreasonable though it might be, the silent rejection hurt.

“And that’s the way you all like it,” Gage said. “Safety. Security. No visits from the outside world.”

Brynn’s jaw set. “That’s the way we like it.”

“My village was a little like this,” Malik said. “But then the drought came and we had to go out into the world to save ourselves.”

“There usually comes a time when you have to leave the womb and venture forth.” Gage glanced at Brynn. “Or you become lazy and dull or die of sluggishness.”

“They’re not lazy or dull,” Brynn said.

“Then why wasn’t there a guard on the cove? Your Eden should have been protected from invaders.”

“I told you, no one knows the way—”

“We did.”

“Because I brought you.” She glared at him. “I told you that you wouldn’t understand, that you didn’t belong. We need no guard to keep—”

“Who are you?”

She whirled to see a white-haired old man in the robes of a priest standing in the path before them. She felt a rush of relief; she knew that face.

She stepped forward. “Father Thomas?”

He ignored her. His faded blue eyes were wary as they fastened on Gage over her head. “What do you do here?”

“Don’t you remember me? I’m Brynn of Falkhaar.”

He shifted his attention to her. “Falkhaar?”

“You knew my mother, Mairle.”

A flicker of emotion other than distrust crossed his
lined face. “She had the gift. She cheated us of it when she went away. Is she with you?”

“No, my mother died.” She persisted. “I’m Brynn. Do you remember me? We visited you whenever we came to the village.”

He stared at Gage once more and said accusingly, “He’s a stranger. You should not have brought him. We don’t like strangers here.”

“He won’t stay. I’m taking him to Falkhaar and then he’ll leave the island.”

Father Thomas shook his head. “You should not have brought him. He’s not one of us.” Then his glance encountered Malik and he stiffened at the sight of the Saracen’s bronze skin. “This one either. Dark as Satan …”

“We are most certainly not one of you. Nor do we want to be,” Gage said. “But I assure you Malik has satanic impulses only on occasion. The rest of the time he’s fairly innocuous.”

“Take them away,” Father Thomas muttered, backing away. “Different. Wicked. They’re different from us.…”

“They’re not wicked.” Brynn followed him. “Different doesn’t have to be bad.”

Father Thomas looked at her in astonishment. “Of course it does.”

“It
doesn’t
. Listen to me, I know these—” She was talking to air. Father Thomas was stalking away down the street.

“I believe we may have trouble obtaining horses and pack mules,” Malik murmured. “Your one acquaintance doesn’t appear to be overwelcoming, Brynn.”

“He’s an old man and his mind seems clouded,” Brynn said defensively. “I’m sure the others will be more accommodating.”

“If we can get them to come out of hiding or open the doors,” Gage said dryly.

Adwen nodded. “Perhaps Brynn should try to go to them. She belongs here.”

At the moment Brynn felt more of a stranger than any of them. If Father Thomas had not known her, then she could not expect recognition from anyone else. The priest had even spoken with resentment of her mother. Did the rest of the islanders feel the same? She straightened her shoulders and smiled with effort. “Yes, I belong here. You wait here and I’ll go—”

“Take Brynn and Adwen to the edge of the village, Malik.” Gage turned on his heel. “I’m accustomed to bartering with people who have no trust.”

Brynn felt a rush of relief but felt bound to offer, “I’ll go with you.”

“I don’t need you. Wait for me.” The smile he gave her was surprisingly gentle. “I do better alone.”

Malik watched him go up to the first cottage and knock on the door before turning away. “Come, we will do as Gage suggests. Perhaps we can find a place to make camp. He may get us the animals, but I doubt well be given lodging for the night.”

It was not the homecoming Brynn had envisioned. Even the unfriendly folk at Selkirk had been persuaded to give them shelter.

“Don’t be disappointed,” Adwen whispered as she took Brynn’s arm in comfort. “What does it matter that an old man thinks we’re enemies? You said you didn’t know any of these villagers anyway.”

Brynn nodded brusquely as she started after Malik. Adwen was right, of course, she had merely voiced aloud Brynn’s thoughts. She shouldn’t be sad or uneasy because of this encounter. Everything would be fine once they reached Falkhaar.

Gage was able to obtain only four ancient horses and three small donkeys.

When he led the animals into the camp after dusk
that evening, Malik took one look at them and shook his head. “I am disappointed in you. Is this the man my people call the Prince of Barter? These creatures may fall dead before we reach the end of another day.”

“They’re not that bad,” Gage said testily. “We don’t need battle steeds or mounts capable of enduring vast distances.”

“No, but we do need horses capable of putting one foot in front of another.”

“Then go and make your own bargain,” Gage said as he sat down before the fire and held out his hands. “But don’t expect to be back by morning or be offered anything better.”

“Unfriendly?” Malik asked.

“You were more friendly when you put your sword through my arm on our first meeting.” Gage shrugged. “But they’re no threat. I doubt if there’s a weapon in the entire village. They stared at me as if I were a wolf looking for his dinner.”

“It’s a natural response,” Brynn said quickly. “You have a fierce manner about you.”

“Yes, I do.” He grimaced. “And my manner would have gotten even fiercer if I’d stayed among those sheep much longer. I was tempted to trim their fleece every time they sidled away from me.”

“They’re not sheep.”

“Close enough.” He took the bowl Malik handed him, ladled out stew, and started to eat. “But not too meek not to try to best me in a bargain.”

“I will stake these poor specimens where there is more grass,” Malik said as he took the reins of the animals. “Who knows? It may be their last meal. Will you help me, Adwen?”

“You can’t even lead a horse to grass without aid?” In spite of her scornful words, Adwen jumped to her feet and followed him.

“The people here aren’t sheep,” Brynn repeated. “They’ve just been trained to live in peace.”

“By Hevald the magnificent.”

“Why are you being so cruel?” She bit her lower lip. “You act as if you hate them.”

He finished the stew before saying wearily, “Perhaps I do. Perhaps I want them to be without virtue because then they won’t matter to you.” He set the bowl down and stared into the fire. “A few of the villagers with whom I talked remembered your mother … and you.”

“You asked about her?”

“Of course I asked them about her,” he said roughly. “I could see how that old priest hurt you by his indifference.”

“I wasn’t hurt.”

“The devil you weren’t.”

“I just don’t understand why he would think she had cheated them. She loved them. Perhaps it is only Father Thomas who feels that way. Surely the others don’t resent her.”

Gage stared into the fire.

“Do they?” she whispered.

“No, of course not. It was only that crazy old man.”

He wasn’t telling the truth. Gage, who never lied, was lying now, hoping to save her from hurt.

“It isn’t fair. Until she left, she gave her gift freely.”

“Perhaps too freely. Maybe they grew to think it belonged to them because it was always there. You might learn a lesson from her mistake.” He changed the subject. “Where in Falkhaar Forest is this treasure located?”

“There’s a cave in the side of the cliff bordering the south side of the island. That’s where the treasure is hidden.”

“Providing it’s still there.” He paused. “Did your mother ever tell your father of the treasure?”

He thought her father might have come back and stolen the treasure, she realized. “No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t think she trusted him.”

“Yet she loved him enough to leave Gwynthal and follow him.”

“I didn’t say she didn’t love him. She just didn’t trust him. She was afraid he would bring strangers here to take the treasure and hurt Gwynthal.”

“As you’ve done.”

“But this is different. You’ll go away and leave us alone. You would never hurt Gwynthal.”

“How do you know?”

“You just wouldn’t. You have honor.”

“Good God, I believe you’re saying you trust in me.”

She stared into the flames. “I do—trust—you.”

He muttered an imprecation beneath his breath. “At last. Wresting admissions from you is like wading through quicksand.” He paused. “You trust me totally or with reservations?”

He wanted her to say she believed he had not killed Delmas. She could not do it. “I think you would not hurt anything I loved.”

“With reservations. Well, it’s better than nothing.” He looked out into the darkness. “It’s a day’s journey to Hevald’s castle?”

“Yes.”

“And another day to the cave?”

She nodded.

“Then in less than a week’s time we should be back at the ship with the treasure.”

And then he would sail out of her life. The pain the thought brought was terrible in intensity.

“Oh, no, you won’t rid yourself of me that easily.” Gage’s stare was fastened on her face. “We’ll come to terms long before that.”

It was odd how he seemed able to read her thoughts. Odd and a little frightening. He was coming closer with every day that passed. “I wanted to speak to you about the treasure. I want a portion of it to go to Adwen and a smaller one to Alice. The treasure will allow them some measure of independence.”

“They may not need it.”

He meant that both Adwen and Alice had found loving protectors. She experienced again that pang of loneliness. “I still want them to have it. The treasure is vast; you will hardly miss a tiny share.”

“And nothing for Brynn?”

She shook her head. “I’ve never wanted riches. I won’t need it. Will you promise me?”

“If you like. But riches for a woman sometimes brings more danger than safety.”

“Because men prey on women and try to take their riches from them.” Brynn had seen that among the noble families in England. “Then I’ll require another promise from you. I wish you to defend Adwen and Alice from those who would take the treasure from them.”

“Now, that’s a promise fraught with trouble.”

“Will you do it?”

“Yes, I’ll do it.” He smiled lopsidedly. “But I find it curious that a woman seeking only peace should be so determined to involve me in war.”

“You involve yourself in war. If you must do battle, it should at least be in good cause.”

He chuckled. “In the cause of those you care about.”

“Yes.” She lay down on the pallet and closed her eyes. “Come to bed. We must start early if we’re to reach the castle before nightfall.”

He was beside her, the blanket warm over them and his arms enfolding her. “Poor Brynn, it’s been a difficult day for you.”

It had been difficult. She had come expecting—She didn’t know what she had expected, but it wasn’t coldness or this feeling of not belonging. “It will be different at Falkhaar.”

“I hope it will. I don’t like you hurt.” His lips feathered her brow. “And it makes me angry that there are no dragons, only sheep to fight.”

“They’re not—” She gave it up; she did not want to argue with him. In less than a week she would no longer have his arms around her. She nestled closer, her cheek in the hollow of his shoulder. “I expected too much. It will take time to become accustomed to Gwynthal again.”

He didn’t answer. It seemed he didn’t wish to argue with her either. Maybe he recognized that this might be one of their last times together. Perhaps he was becoming resigned to her staying here after all.…

Gage!

Dagger!

Blood dripping on the grass, running into the veined leaves lying beneath the trees
.

Brynn lunged upright, her breasts rising and falling with the effort to breathe.

“Another nightmare?” Gage asked drowsily without opening his eyes. “Go back to sleep.” He pulled her down and cuddled her close.

Her heart was beating so hard, she was sure Adwen and Malik could hear it across the fire. “I will.” She deliberately relaxed her taut muscles. She did not want Gage to come fully awake and ask questions.