Harald nodded to his men and caught Haakon’s eye, giving him the signal they’d agreed upon earlier. With one arm around her shoulders and the other placed hastily over her mouth, Harald dragged her from the chamber and down the long corridor to the steps. Running and half carrying her, he did not stop until they were out of the palace and across the yard to where the rest of his men and their horses awaited. With a nod to those already mounted, he tossed Katla onto the horse, climbed up behind her, and rode to the cottage on the outskirts of Dunfermline where he’d arranged to stay the night.
Through it all she said not a word. She stared off as though watching something in the distance. Hours later, the man who’d remained behind caught up with them and delivered the news.
Kali Svenson had been beheaded at Dunfermline Palace within minutes of the ritual’s end. Gavin had delivered the truth, and Edgar had delivered swift justice.
Harald did not tell her. The rational part of her knew it already, and he was afraid that saying the words would destroy the fragile control she had over herself. She ate nothing, said nothing, and moved not at all once he sat her in the chair in the cottage. No words he spoke to her brought any response or reply or even a glance in his direction. She resisted when he tried to move her to the bed, so he left her as she sat and covered her with several thick blankets.
The other men slept outside, but he would stay inside and see to her during the night. He’d only intended to rest on the bed, but when he opened his eyes, he discovered her gone from the cottage. Believing that she sought to relieve herself outside, he went in search of her. An hour later, after they’d searched the entire area around the cottage, Harald had to accept that she was gone…and he feared he knew where she’d gone. Without knowledge of the roads, Harald had to wait until morning to return to the palace in Dunfermline.
The next day’s search for her was unsuccessful, and Harald was faced with few choices. Finding her among the Scots would be nearly impossible. He and his men were strangers here and knew little of the area. If anyone gave them any help, it would surprise him.
The only thing he could do would be to ask the help of the Scots king, and the earl had fobidden him to do that exact thing. This incident had caused problems for Earl Magnus and his king at a time when the new treaty between the Norse and the Scots was shaky at best. Bringing more attention to Sven Rognvaldson and his family would cause trouble that neither Magnus the King nor Magnus the Earl wanted at their door.
Harald made his way back to the palace and called on Haakon to find out Gavin’s condition and whether he had any knowledge of Katla’s plans. The ever-efficient servant could tell him nothing, and the lady’s own servant had disappeared, too.
Harald had never felt so useless—the two people he most cared about were in trouble and mayhap in danger, and he could help neither of them. Not willing to give up yet, he left word with Haakon for Gavin to seek him out once he’d recovered from the ritual.
Riding back to the croft, he tried to come up with other ways to find Katla and get her safely home. They could make other decisions once she was safe.
Gavin struggled against the pain. Though his ears hurt, it was in a strange and different way from the months before, almost a freezing burn rather than one from heat. He could hear nothing—not the voices of those around him, not the usual sounds of a busy household, not questions asked or words spoken in reply. He lay on a pallet in the small chamber he’d been taken to once the ritual ended, with only Haakon attending him.
In spite of the fear and suspicion of the monks at the abbey, Gavin was treated now as an honored guest, and any request for his comfort was fulfilled with haste. For all the good it did him. Three days passed before he could even rise from the pallet, a fourth day before he could remain upright through his waking hours. Not until the fifth day did he feel as though his mind was clear enough to function.
He waited for the voices to return, wondering how he would control them without Katla nearby. He feared that Kali’s would now join the chaos of sound since their thoughts had joined for that time. For two months now, because of Katla, he could control the other thoughts that invaded his mind right after the ritual, even when his strength had been drained by the flow of power and he could do little to protect himself from the onslaught. But Gavin feared the loss of that control and only wondered how long it would take before the last shreds of it slipped out of his grasp completely.
His heart hurt with the realization that in spite of what he owed her and had promised her against his own good sense, he’d destroyed her by destroying her beloved brother. Oh, he could tell himself that he had no control over what truths he heard or whose thoughts he listened to, but he could have warned her about what he did know and what he suspected. In trying to protect her tender heart, he’d destroyed her.
And he could try to comfort himself with the fact that she had broken her promise to him and not helped him discover more about the origins of this terrible power. How she’d lied to him when she’d sworn she would share what knowledge she had with him once he’d saved her brother.
Part of him, his foolish heart most likely, always suspected she had nothing to bargain with but herself. He should have been able to tell she was lying to him, but he was content with having her in his bed, in his life and in his heart, even if it was for a short time. If it meant another day with her, he would believe whatever she told him.
When he’d regained himself just after the ritual, he’d seen Harald dragging her out, seen the stricken expression in her blue eyes as King Edgar’s men took her brother. Condemned by Gavin’s words, Kali would be executed immediately by the Scots for his involvement in his father’s plans. No mercy would be offered or shown to a traitor—other than the quick death Earl Magnus had requested.
Gavin waited for Harald to send word, needing to know she was safe. They’d come to an understanding, he and Harald, for Gavin knew it was time to set Katla free. Fear struck deep in his heart at the thought of not seeing her again, not holding her, not loving her, but she’d been a pawn too long and now deserved a chance at a life of her own. One that Harald had promised to provide for her.
And if Gavin could survive the pain and madness that would surely strike harder than ever with her gone, he would not have to fret much longer. He now believed that he would face his end on the anniversary of his birth. When the other one left him after the ritual and he had regained a sense of himself, he felt the beating of his heart slow once more. So slow, so faint that he could almost not feel it at all and, worse, for a moment, a brief bit of time, his heart had stopped.
He’d noticed it several months ago, but the pain always seemed more important and required all his attention to deal with. Now, her presence, her nearness, her passion, gave him the necessary strength to overpower the pain and hold the voices and the clamor in a stranglehold of his own making.
At least he’d regained his humanity with Katla’s help. So many things he’d ignored or left behind in his climb from obscurity to Truthsayer now seemed so much more important because Katla had brought them back into his life and given him the strength he needed to focus on life and living once more.
Farming. He’d forgotten how much enjoyment he received from working a long, hard day in the fields. Cultivating the soil and watching it become fruitful because of that work. Once Katla calmed the torment in his mind, he could spend days free of pain with enough strength to leave his seclusion and to be among people without fear of the overwhelming clamor.
People. Gavin had long given up being around others because of the pain. Because of his need to dull it with strong drink or other remedies. Because he heard voices that no one else could hear and he sometimes reacted to them without thinking.
Hope. He had lived in despair of ever having a normal life, a wife, or a family. Katla had eased his pain long enough to allow the last flicker of hope in his soul to burst into flame. In spite of his belief that his end was near, she’d given him a glimpse of what he could have had.<
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Now, he needed to tamp down that hope and release her to live her own life. And he would, for she’d given him new strength and courage to love her enough to let her go now and not force her to watch him die, too.
After he spoke with Harald and knew that Katla was safe with him, Gavin would return to Durness to face the ends of his days.
Gifted.
Cursed.
Alone as he was meant to be.
Chapter Twenty-three
When Katla regained herself from the mindless, grieving woman she became after witnessing her brother condemned to death by the man she loved, she felt nothing. Then her mind and heart filled with such pain over what had happened, how it happened, and worse, her part in it that she could not think in any rational way for days.
She’d left Harald in the middle of the night and wandered through the countryside without sleeping or eating or thinking. It was not until days and nights later that she noticed Godrod trailing her. She hurt too much to speak or acknowledge him, but his presence eased her in some way. He was the last link to her home and life in her father’s house.
She’d taken refuge from a storm when he approached her. He offered her something to drink from a skin, and she accepted it and then a bit of coarse bread that stuck in her throat. He did not speak to her even then, which was a good thing. She could not string words together that would make sense and did not have the strength to try. He simply followed her for the next several days until she began the horrible task of thinking through the pain.
One day, a week later, she thought, Godrod began leading her instead of following, and she allowed it. With no family left, she had few options. Knowing her uncle wanted her dead, Katla did not know where to seek refuge in Orkney. For now, she trailed Godrod, keeping pace with him as they seemed to make their way back to the shoreline. Katla did not know if they were still in Scotland or had crossed back into Caithness.
And she did not care.
All was lost.
Because of her.
Even Gavin would now suffer because of her—she’d dragged him into this situation, she’d forced him to help her with false promises, and now she’d abandoned him at his most vulnerable time to the punishments inflicted by his powerful gift. She’d used him far more than he’d used her—for his use had been of her body, but she’d used up his heart and soul.
It hurt too much to consider her actions against him, so she pushed them away. For hours at a time, she could keep his face from her mind. For hours, she did not remember the passion he’d shown her or the pleasure they’d shared. For hours, she could force her heart to forget the love that burned for him. Then, in a rush, it flooded back, ripping her traitorous heart to shreds in an instant.
Godrod said nothing about anything he’d witnessed. He kept walking through the countryside, over the rolling hills, and through valleys in the midst of harvest time. He spoke to her in few words, usually directions or questions about food or stopping for the night.
Sometimes he would leave in the middle of the night or early in the morning before she rose, but he never explained his actions. When she finally realized that he would reappear with food or supplies, Katla understood. She did not sleep much, merely laying her exhausted body down and waiting for the sun to rise again.
Godrod pushed her on, forcing her to move and to live even when she had no desire to do so. The days grew cooler and damper as they traveled, and soon she needed her cloak against the cold. When she knew that she would continue to live, even if her life was empty now that she had betrayed the man she loved, she asked Godrod the first question.
“Where are you taking me?”
“We head north,” he answered, dropping back to walk at her side. “I have friends and thought to seek shelter for the winter with them.”
“In Orkney?”
He shook his head. “Nay, Katla. ’Tis not safe for you in Orkney with your uncle seeking your blood.”
So, ’twas true then. Her uncle would not be content until Sven Rognvaldson’s children were gone. He wanted no one to question or seek that which had been her father’s.
“I thought the western isles. I have a cousin who serves a lord there and who would take us in until…”
“Until?” she asked. Though she could think again, she could not think clearly or too far into the future.
“Until it is safe and until you decide what you want to do.”
“I know what I need to do, Godrod,” she said, understanding that she must admit her guilt to the one most wronged by her actions. “We must go to Durness.”
Gavin’s descent into madness took little time at all. ’Twas as though his soul, at once understanding that he would not see Katla again, could no longer hold back the chaos and the clamor. Days after the ritual when the voices began their taunting, they soon took on the din of hundreds of horns blaring inside his head. After two months of relative peace, the pain roared back with such ferocity that he feared madness would be his only refuge.
Haakon began to feed him ale laced with some brew, something he’d used before Katla’s calming effect, but it did no good. With weeks left until the next full moon, he foresaw only pain and suffering until he died during that last ritual. But none of that mattered, because his heart had broken at the loss of her. The pain in his head paled when compared to the one in his heart. He would be at some ease once he knew she was safe with Harald.
So he waited.
The moment Harald entered the chamber, Gavin knew something was terribly wrong. Worse, his deafness prevented him from hearing any explanation. Now all he could do was worry until he could hear again. He set Haakon to packing and sent word to King Edgar’s steward that he was ready to leave. As a courtesy, and probably in the hopes of attracting Gavin to his court if his allegiance to Earl Magnus ever waned, Edgar offered them passage back to Orkney on a large, swift ship.
A terrible sense of foreboding filled Gavin as they sailed north and worse, the power seemed to build far in advance of the waxing moon. When someone touched his hand, he would hear bits and pieces of thoughts or memories from the person. If he concentrated, he could make it happen. Only in short bursts and not as clear as during the ritual, but it happened too many times on the voyage north for Gavin not to recognize that the power was approaching some precipice. Harald noticed it, but did not ask him about it. Haakon knew it, too.
On the fifth day of the journey, his hearing returned and he finally learned the details of Katla’s disappearance. The only thing that consoled him was the knowledge that Godrod must be with her and that they had enough coins and gold to pay for food, supplies, and passage out of Scotland.
Once the voices began in earnest, he could think very little. By the time they arrived in Durness, he was back to the screaming madman he’d been when Katla had found him in the cave. So many voices, so many thoughts, so much pain.
The ale did not work. The wine did not work. The healer’s brew did not work. So Gavin existed in pain, day and night, whether in the cave or out of it. He tried staying in the cottage above the cliffs, but every place in it reminded him of Katla and brought some memory of their time together back to him. Like the taunting in his mind, the memories mocked every hope he’d dared allow himself to have during those days. So he left, walking off into the hills, carrying only a skin of the drug-tinged ale with him for the small measure of relief it gave his body.
As though something else guided his feet, two days later Gavin stumbled into the circle of stones and fell there in the center. Exhausted, empty, and in pain, he could go no farther. Though he heard the same laughter there, he could not tell whether it was someone else’s thoughts or produced by the strong herbs in his ale. And he did not care.
Haakon would follow and retrieve him when the earl’s emissary arrived for the ritual. Until then it mattered not where he slept or if he did, for without Katla there was no peace.
It had taken weeks, but they’d crossed the land of the Scots and then hired a boat t
o take them north. Skirting along the western coast between Scotland and the isles now ruled by the Norse king, they made good time due to fair winds and unusually calm seas for this time of year.
The Gaels with whom they traveled shared stories to pass the time, and Katla learned much of the history of the places they saw along the way. And though they all worshipped the Christian God, some still spoke of the Old Ones and the coming festival of Samhain when the beings in the spirit world could cross into the physical one. Katla shivered when the old woman described the process to her, but something rang true in her words.
The end of the month approached when the second full moon would occur, and Katla wondered if Gavin would return to Durness for it. She thought he would. She would wait for him in Durness.
The waters churned dangerously and wildly, and the boat could go no farther, so she and Godrod decided to travel the final miles over land. They passed through an area called Assynt and through the hills of Quinag as they headed into the Southerlands and toward Durness. Finally, they entered a valley that looked and felt familiar to her.
The valley curved, and as they followed the stream running through it, Katla realized where their path would lead. As the sun drifted low in the sky and night was only a few hours away, they saw the ring of stones in the distance. Katla pushed on, something pulling her to that circle. She waved Godrod back when they reached it, entering alone.
This time, the whispers grew louder around her, and she turned this way and that, fooled by their strength and clarity into thinking others spoke to her. Katla walked toward the rise in the middle of the circle and would have tripped over him if she’d not been looking down at that moment.
Gavin lay senseless at her feet, unmoving and barely breathing.
Chapter Twenty-four
He opened his eyes and saw her once more.
His angel had returned, though he was certain it was too late to save him. Mayhap she would play the role of Valkyrie this night and guide his soul to the land of the dead?
A Storm of Pleasure Page 18
