Vengeance Hammer (Viking Vengeance) (7 page)

“Ye went for a gallop, didn’t ye?” Ulna groaned out the words.

“I had to go. I had to. I had to find a fairy hill.” The little girl plucked at Xára’s sleeve. “I cast a spell for Mama at the crest of dawn on a fairy hill.”

Xára set two fingers to Evie’s lips and mouthed,
Nay
.

Evie folded her arms and jutted her mouth to a full pout. “I am a good
seidr
. Not an evil one like Magnhildur. Why can I not use my magik to help Mama? She hurts so, sister.”

Her sister had the ability to cast spells and curses, but not the knowledge of the ancient rituals required to make them successful. Evie had only recently come into her powers and had no mentor save auld Bessie. What Bessie remembered and what she fancied in her advanced age, however, oft became intertwined, and both Ulna and Xára frowned on Evie’s obsession with the woman.

Gathering Evie close, Xára kissed her temple, and drew back to shake her head.

Furious tears leaked from Evie’s eyes, she wriggled out of Xára’s arms, and stamped a foot. “The highlander, Earl Tighe, said Lady Jennie would breathe her last before dawn. I will not let Mama die. I am the daughter of the sun god, Ard Greimme, half-sister to the warrioresses Aife and Scathach
—
”

“Hush, wee bairn.” Ulna clasped Evie to her bounteous bosom. “I will forgive ye this once for speaking the forbidden. Ye are overwrought. And yer sister right in front of ye is who yer mam chose to care for ye. All will be well.”

Xára met Ulna’s watery blue eyes above the little girl’s head. Evie had both hands fisted and was snuffling into Ulna’s chest.

Deciding not to leave Evie’s safety to chance or the Viking’s protection, she wrote.
I command you both to the cave. Stay until I come for you.

Xára expected Evie’s truculence, but though the girl scowled she translated the order.

“Why must I go? I can stay and help you,” Evie protested.

Xára fixed a do-as-I-say glare on her sister.

“What will
you
do?” Evie asked.

She scrawled,
’Tis your duty to obey without question.

“Ye go milady and do what ye must. I’ll take the wee one to the cave and we’ll wait there for ye.” Ulna lifted Evie’s face and thumbed dry the tears streaked on her cheeks. The berry smudges spread like a faint blue spidery web across the girl’s face. “Come with me little warrioress. We have a ways to go.”

The herbarium was the center of a network of tunnels. The room had an arched doorway connecting it to the hallway leading to the kitchens. A smaller, narrow door concealed by a hollow armoire led to a dark corridor from which there were several means of escape into the bailey. The large drying table along the wall built against the cliff hid another secret exit fit only for crawling on hands and knees. The walls adjacent to the drying table led to the south and north towers respectively. Caves and secret passageways riddled not only the cliffs on which Castle Lathairn stood, but the whole length of the coastline clear down to the settlement of Myrtle Harbor.

Xára waited until Ulna and Evie exited via the armoire.

First, she wanted to determine the position of the ships the Viking had spied the day before. Xára quickly pressed the bricks that unlatched the third passageway. She climbed the narrow, curved steps, leading to the roof of the north tower.

The narrow ring surrounding the pointed gable was inaccessible except by this hidden path. While she could step through the doorway without any issue, a normal size warrior would have to turn sideways to do so.

A series of arrow slits ran the length of the outer wall.

The fierce wind blowing off the north seas whistled their wintry dominance. Xára hugged her arms. The whirlwind breezes crisscrossed the narrow space, tore tears from her eyes, and whipped her loose locks in blinding fury against her cheeks.

She caught a fistful of hair and peered to the horizon. A storm brewed. Smoky thunderclouds raced across the sky. Navy, swelling waves crashed the rocky bay below. A ship’s prow came into sight 2tween the two boulders guarding the narrow entrance to the cove.

Xára’s knees wobbled. She grabbed onto the rough stone of an arrow slit to remain standing. Had Néill returned with Godfraid’s formidable army?

Chapter Four

Dráddør and Tighe stood side-by-side in the center of the cove fronting the base of Lathairn’s cliffs. The morn had dawned with the bleakness of the coming storm.

Tighe grunted. “The men are grumbling.”

“Aye. They’ve been spoiling for battle for the last few days.” When Tighe and Dráddør had left Dalriada not five days ago, they both had anticipated either a swift, bloody attack or a prolonged siege. Either way, battle fever had their warriors on edge and, since Dráddør had forbidden swiving until he was assured the castle and lands secured, the men had not been able to appease their pent-up tension.

Dráddør had recognized the langskips sailing toward Lathairn as his brother’s even before he crested the peak of the lookout mound. To his men’s disappointment, he’d curtailed all the frenzied preparations for a possible invasion. To counteract the warriors’ growing restlessness, he’d ordered a score of men to the hunt and assigned the rest to cleaning the castle and whitewashing the walls. They were piddling chores to be cert and while his commands spawned grouses and complaints; they also kept idle hands busy and prevented scores of fights 2tween the Viking soldiers and Arnfinn’s ragged bunch of mercenaries and men-at-arms.

“Think you war is brewing and Harald Bluetooth calls you to arms?” Tighe, not one to stand idle for long, whittled a piece of driftwood he’d found on the rocks.

“Why else would Konáll bring an extra langskip?” Dráddør could not afford to leave Lathairn until the castle was secured and Xára full with child. Even then, ’twould be a grievous risk to go to war for winter was setting in. “Loki’s prick be severed. I need not this now.”

The tall cliffs separating the castle from the bay cast deep shadows over most of the rocky beach. Konáll’s langskip, Dauði Dkellr, named for his axe, Death Blow, sailed through the entrance to the bay. The ship rode the rough waves and on each trough, the mast of the boat following rose like a beacon.

When Dauði Dkellr anchored in the middle of the bay and let down a small rowboat, Dráddør shaded his eyes and squinted. “’Tis Konáll, to be cert.”

“Do my eyes deceive me or is that a woman they are lowering into your brother’s arms?” Tighe peered at the small boat.

Dráddør clamped his dropped jaw tight. “Nay, you have the right of it. ’Tis Nyssa. I cannot believe Konáll set out to journey here with his wife swollen with child. He is as nervous as a nun about the babe and in less than three sennights the channels will freeze. Why would he take such a risk? If ’twere not for King Harald and King Kenneth’s urgent summons, e’en I would have waited until the spring to claim Lathairn and the title.”

“Thanks to your god, Odin, you did not. Néill most cert would have raped Xára and claimed both the title and the lands long before spring.” Tighe laid the bleached branch on a flat boulder and with quick, short flicks carved the outline of a sword.

Dráddør tracked the boat approaching the cove.

“Hail.” The shout echoed around the bay.

Dráddør waved and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Best you disembark in the calm pool to your right.”

The two Vikings rowing the boat changed direction.

Tighe pocketed the small sword he’d carved. Both men walked to the one spot of tranquility in the bay, a tiny alcove where the ocean lapped the rock-strewn sand instead of pounding and thrashing away the beach clinging to the cliff’s base. They watched as Konáll hopped out of the small boat and stood in the knee-deep water to swing Nyssa high against his chest. The grim cant of his mouth spoke volumes.

Dráddør braced himself for his brother’s anger.

Konáll strode forward. He kicked away a clump of brackish seaweed tangled around his soaked boot, and stomped to a halt in front of the two men.

“Why are you here? What is so amiss you risk the life of your wife and the child she carries?” Dráddør asked.

“Good Morn, brother. ’Tis many moons since we last broke bread together.” Nyssa leaned forward and pecked Dráddør’s cheek.

“He knows full well ’tis not a paltry visit, woman. Tell him the all of it,” Konáll growled.

“We came to help you,” Nyssa replied. “You have need of us.”

Dráddør shook his head. “Nay. All is in hand. I have claimed the title and wed and bedded the heiress to the lands. I have no need of either of you. What sent you here? Nyssa, you are full with child. Risk you your babe? For the Winterfylleth is nigh upon us and one storm can see you here for the season.”

“I have been asking those same questions of my wife,” Konáll snarled.

Nyssa sent her husband a petulant, narrow-eyed scowl. “And I have told you time and time again, Dráddør needs us. Mús said so.”

“My wife stowed away on the langskip. Sweetly pretended to see me off on the journey
she
insisted I make.” He glared at his wife. “I
should
tar your arse.” Konáll looked ready to howl in frustration.

“Mús said Dráddør needed my healing powers.” Nyssa’s mouth pursed.

“So you say. But I ne’er saw Mús. Mayhap you lie in that too,” Konáll snapped.

“I did
not
lie. Mayhap I had forgotten to mention some few piddling matters—”

“Piddling? You call our babe, piddling?” Konáll roared.

Dráddør could make no sense of anything either of them shouted.

“By Freya, you are a stubborn man. Would Mús send me on an ill-fated journey when I am so close to birthing your heir?” Nyssa smacked Konáll’s shoulder.

“I vow, I will ne’er allow any female to lead me by the cock,” Dráddør muttered in a low aside to Tighe.

“Think you because I carry a child I have lost my hearing, Dráddør?” Nyssa barked. “As for you, Konáll, put me down at once.”

Konáll glowered at Nyssa. “I
should
paddle your arse.”

Cheeks glowing, Nyssa pressed her lips together, and gave a defiant jerk of her chin. The piercing stare she threw Konáll fair bellowed for him to try. “I am the daughter of a goddess. Think you carrying a babe weakens me?”

Tighe cleared his throat. “Mayhap we could continue this…discussion in the great hall?”

Nyssa stabbed Konáll’s chest with her finger. “The highlander is the only one here who speaks any sense. Put me down.”

Konáll shifted Nyssa as if weighing her words. “You will walk at a slow pace. No running. No leaping o’er rocks or walls.”

Nyssa fluttered her lashes, and smiled. “Of course, husband. Do I not always obey your every command?”

Tighe made a strangled sound somewhere between a chortle and a cough.

“The tide rises. Either you return to your langskip or we must climb. ’Tis a steep path, safe only for one at a time.” Dráddør winced at Nyssa’s triumphant grin. He knew of Konáll’s penchant for carrying his wife since her pregnancy. A penchant she fought with every breath.

“Husband, I give you my oath. I will take every care on the journey to the keep.”

Dráddør stifled a snort. Nyssa’s demure tone fooled neither him nor Konáll who scowled, but slowly and carefully, slid his wife to the rocky strip that counted as a beach at low tide.

A whistling breeze sent Nyssa’s skirts flapping and the warriors’ cloaks flying.

“The storm fast approaches.” Tighe swept a glance at the dense carpet of clouds concealing the sky. “We must make haste.”

“Follow me.” Dráddør picked his way across the rocks. Before they arrived at the hidden steps carved into the cliff’s base, a rolling bank of charred clouds shrouded the sun. Deep shadows engulfed the tiny bay. Sudden powerful gusts whipped the foam from the white-capped waves thundering against fallen boulders.

They ascended in single file silence, Dráddør first, then Nyssa followed by Konáll, and Tighe. Impatient to get them to shelter, but conscious of Nyssa’s swollen belly, Dráddør went at a slow pace. Every so oft he paused and made some excuse to consult with Konáll using their war hand-signals, but in reality only did so to allow Nyssa to rest and catch her breath.

When Konáll gave him the sign to go faster, he stumbled, and had to embrace a jagged outcrop to avoid a nasty fall.

Hand signals.

After regaining his balance Dráddør slapped his own forehead.

Hand signals.

He would teach Xára their hand signals. Mayhap develop new ones. Footsteps suddenly lighter, Dráddør grinned like a foolish court jester, and had to slow his quickening stride. Why had he not considered such an obvious solution afore?

Two fat, icy raindrops beat his cheeks the moment he cleared the summit and spun around to offer a hand to Nyssa. Choking back an oath at her flushed face and heaving bosom, he swept her into his arms, carried her to a nearby flat-topped rock, and set her down gently.

In a thrice, Konáll was at her side. He lifted her onto his lap and cupped her cheek. “Nyssa, is it the babe?”

“The child but protests the sudden burst of activity.” She grimaced and held her side.

A lick of panic flared through Dráddør. Had aught gone amiss with Nyssa and the babe? He vowed Freya any sacrifice if she would but use her powers to spare both mother and child. “Shall I send for the healer?”

Nyssa’s face reddened. “And to think I once considered you clever.
I
am a healer. Have your wits left you since we last met?”

Dráddør bit his tongue.

“She has a temper, your brother’s wife,” Tighe murmured.

Dráddør flinched and cursed his inattention. How had he not noticed Tighe sneaking up on him? Speaking out of the side of his mouth, he said, “You have seen but her mild irritation.”

“’Twould be wondrous to see her in full rage. What a beauty. E’en more so with her rounded belly. By Saint Finnian, there is naught more appealing than a woman when she is with child.”

What? Appalled, he darted a glare at the highlander.

But before Dráddør could utter a scathing response regarding honor and women and children, Nyssa declared, “I was but winded. But now I have recovered my breath and we can make haste to the keep. Who is this woman Mús insists I heal?”