Warrior Prince

by Nancy J. Cohen

  Chapter Thirteen

  “What do you mean these symbols match your watch?” Zohar crouched beside her in front of the stone column.

  Nira pointed to the monolith. “You see these markings? Their vertical strokes are characteristic of runic inscriptions. I’ve been studying this type of writing for my doctorate.”

  “You are studying to become a doctor?”

  “No, I’m going for my graduate degree in comparative mythology.” Nira gritted her teeth. Had he not been briefed on their educational system? “I study legends of the Norse gods.”

  He glanced down his nose at her. “I do not see how this is relevant.”

  “Look.” She showed him her watch face with its unique marking. “The writing on the column exhibits strokes like these. My birth parents left me this watch. I assume it means I have Scandinavian blood. My red hair could have resulted from intermarriage if another ancestor came from the British Isles.”

  “Those lands are distant from here, yes?”

  “That’s right.” She sucked in a breath, about to reveal a secret she’d kept for six years. “I only learned the truth about my birth when my adoptive mother lay dying. She told me I’d been abandoned on a church doorstep as a baby. This watch was found inside my blanket.”

  “And this is why you study old legends? To learn about your true parentage?” His brow wrinkled in puzzlement.

  She tapped the wristwatch. “My professor told me this symbol is runic in origin. It’s derived from a variant called Elder Futhark. If you’re familiar with Earth history, the runic alphabet predates Christianity.”

  “You are saying your watch contains ancient lettering?”

  “Correct. Unfortunately, Professor Mulligan has been unable to interpret this rune. They’re difficult to decipher because the lettering can be combined into many different forms.”

  “Have you sought help elsewhere?”

  “I haven’t had the time before now.” Or the funding, she added silently. Pursuing her studies plus her research required more money than her budget allowed.

  He tilted his head. “So you scour old legends to find a key to this language?”

  “Yes. This symbol on my watch could be important.”

  “How so?”

  “The root word for runes means secret. In the old days, people believed the runes were of divine origin and that the writing had magical powers. Only oracles could interpret their meaning.”

  He shrugged. “If you say so. You should let Paz have a look. He’s our linguistics expert.”

  She held out her hand. “Can I use your scanner? I’d like to record these markings before we leave. This could be the reason why we ended up in this particular place. We were meant to find this inscription. It might be connected to my past.”

  An arrow twanged into a nearby tree. She lifted her head.

  A bald man, his nostrils pierced by two feathers, aimed a bamboo bow at them. A necklace made of animal teeth encircled his thick neck. Horns and seashells adorned his body, naked except for a loincloth. His face, painted with fierce black streaks, grimaced as he let loose another arrow.

  “Run.” Zohar prodded her.

  “I can’t leave until we record this writing.”

  “Do as I say. This man is merely a scout.”

  Zohar grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the jungle.

  A tremor shook the ground.

  “What’s that?” she asked, startled.

  “Who knows? If this island has volcanic origins, perhaps one of the craters is still active.”

  She scanned the horizon. Mountains blocked their view, but was that a cloud in the distance or a spurt of steam? One of the ranges did appear to be more angular. She liked the looks of the other gentler, nature-tamed slopes better. Which way should they go?

  Bloodcurdling whoops turned her veins to ice. A herd of tribesmen tramped into view. Their murderous expressions and pointy spears made the choice for them. Sprinting past another ledge that held bowls filled with fruit, she cursed herself for ignoring the signs earlier. She should have realized worshipers still lived here; meaning she and Zohar had trespassed on a sacred site.

  They crashed through the brush, gaining distance from their pursuers. However, it soon became evident that they’d made the wrong choice in terms of direction when the ominous rush of water sounded ahead.

  Nira halted as the woods ended at a wide chasm. It stretched across a gorge where gushing water tumbled through the narrow channel. The only way to cross was on a rickety suspension bridge. Its bamboo underpinnings looked none too secure, gaps showing where pieces had decayed.

  “I can’t go on.” Her heart skipped erratically, and her feet froze. Heights had never appealed to her.

  Zohar squeezed her elbow. “We have no choice. You go first. You weigh less.”

  “It won’t hold. We’ll fall.” Her hands gripped the railing but she couldn’t bring herself to step onto the first rung.

  “Nira, you must do this.” He ducked as a flurry of arrows were launched at them.

  Air whooshed by her ear. “I’d rather get killed by a spear than be crushed on those rocks below.”

  “We will make it across the ravine. I promise.”

  “I’ll hold you to those words.” She swallowed, her throat tight.

  “We must complete our mission. Go on.”

  A terrifying war cry came at their heels. Her pulse hammering, she forced her feet to step onto the swaying bridge.

  Her hands, slick with sweat, grasped the wood rail. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Her knees shook so badly she stumbled several times. Zohar steadied her from behind.

  Please, please, let me reach the other side.

  She focused on their target and avoided looking down. The bridge swung with each step. Her heart pounding, she progressed at an interminably slow pace.

  When she finally reached the opposite bank, she took a deep, shuddering breath and pried her tight knuckles from the rail.

  An urge to fall to her knees and kiss the earth evaporated when she noted the half dozen shrunken heads on poles. Her spirits sank. No wonder the natives hadn’t followed them.

  “I assume this means there’s a rival tribe on this side. They can’t be friendly either.”

  Zohar gave her a reassuring pat. “Follow the water upstream. We need to reach higher ground.”

  An iguana scurried by, pausing to glare at them before vanishing into the brush.

  Fortunately, they encountered no other creatures, human or otherwise, as they climbed. Rocks morphed into boulders. Slopes extended into mountainsides. Mahoganies and rosewoods gave way to cedars, oaks, and beeches. The air grew cool, making her shiver when they finally stopped to rest. Mist permeated the air, adding to the dampness.

  “You are cold, and it is getting dark.” Zohar faced her under a pine tree. “We should find shelter for the night.”

  She lifted her chin. “I disagree. We should keep moving if there’s any chance of rescue tonight.”

  “You are limping.” He pointed to her grime covered shoes. “Are you injured?”

  “No, but it feels like I have a blister. Don’t worry, I’m fine, all things considered.”

  From his look of doubt, she knew she must look a mess: her hair tossed, her clothing torn, her skin smudged.

  Closing the distance between them, he stroked her cheek. “You are very brave.”

  Her heart swelled at his tender touch and his admiring glance. “That’s only because I have no choice. I didn’t ask for this trouble. It all started with that stupid job interview.”

  “It was not chance that brought us together, little one. You said so yourself. Our fates are entwined.”

  That’s not all that I’d like to be entwined, she thought, gazing up at him. His eyes were the clearest, most brilliant turquoise she’d ever seen. She could lose herself in them—if Zohar returned her regard. But whenever they made love, he kept part of himself in reserve. Did he vie
w her merely as a member of his team with whom to spend a few hours of pleasure?

  She couldn’t blame him for guarding his heart. While she yearned to determine her birthright, she feared what she might find. There had to be a reason why the Trollek spell didn’t work on her. What if her bloodline traced back to those creatures? Did Zohar already suspect as much?

  The Trolleks kept humans for slaves and used women for bedmates. Did offspring occur from such couplings?

  Maybe she was one of them.

  But even as this chilling thought surfaced, she realized it didn’t matter. Zohar’s world waited for his return, same as hers. Regardless of his feelings for her, he’d leave in the end. And she’d had enough of being left in the lurch. It wasn’t only her adoptive father who’d deserted their family—her birth parents had also abandoned her. She would not form another emotional attachment, only to be cast aside again.

  ****

  Zohar dropped his hand, the imprint of her soft skin on his fingers. Nira was without doubt the most baffling female he’d met. One moment, she looked as though she wanted to kiss him, then in the next instant, her lips pinched and her eyes chilled.

  Clearly she blamed him for her predicament. I have no choice, she’d said. He had dragged her into this quagmire, and since then, she’d become an essential part of his team. He couldn’t let her go, not only because he still needed her, but also because she remained a target for the Trolleks.

  Their lives truly were twisted together, whether she liked it or not. As for their personal desires, those had no place on a mission. His job was to quell the enemy, not seduce an ally.

  In the meantime, it was just as well for Nira to be wary of him. Nothing permanent could come from their union. While Zohar might marry someday, it would be a political match. His people would stand for nothing less, and neither would he. He’d learned long ago to limit passion to the bedroom, and to remove it from his heart.

  Wondering why he felt so lost when she turned away from him, he strode after her toward the summit they’d spotted ahead.

  Dusk deepened the sky as he halted at the crest, awed by the vista before them. The sea sparkled far below a rocky cliff. Their piece of land was a sizable island divided by green-covered mountains, at least on this side. The peaks marched into the distance where a cone-shaped mountain towered over them all. Jungle covered the interior.

  “It’s beautiful.” Nira stood at his side, a stiff breeze whipping hair into her face.

  Zohar resisted the urge to fold her into his embrace. His duty was to find a way off this island, not be distracted by her soft curves. That mental sinkhole was the very thing he needed to avoid.

  “I don’t see any electricity or other signs of modern civilization. This place must rarely get outside visitors.” He swept an arm in a wide gesture encompassing the trees. If they hadn’t met the natives, he’d have assumed the place to be uninhabited.

  “Look in that direction.” Nira jabbed her thumb. “Do you see smoke?”

  “Indeed.” He could barely make out the vaporous trail drifting upward from the forest. “More primitives on the prowl?”

  “Possibly. We should investigate. I’m starving. If it’s an encampment, we could steal some food.”

  “All right, but first let me see if I can get a signal through to Paz on the ship.”

  She always came up with the best ideas. How could he ever let her go free when he…when his team needed her valuable input?

  He triggered his comm device but static answered him. “Has’pute, I still can’t get through.”

  “What if I use the ring you gave me for emergencies?”

  “That will not work. It uses the same frequency as our comm units. Forgive me.”

  She faced him squarely, her eyes large and luminous. “For what, Zohar?”

  “For failing you.” Her scent drifted his way, tantalizing him. It took a force of will not to drag her into his arms. “I have not done my duty in protecting you. We may be stranded on this island.”

  Nira studied him, her head tilted. Whatever she read on his expression made her gaze soften. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who touched that mirror and landed us here.”

  He didn’t deserve her compassion. Nay, he didn’t want it. Caring about what she thought made his task more difficult.

  “We should go see what’s causing that smoke.” Despite her words, she remained facing him, her gaze drifting to his mouth.

  His southern region responded with a strong jolt. He leaned closer. Her seductive scent compelled him to taste her wares. The succulence of her lips drew him near. He could almost inhale her sweet breath.

  No! Disengage. This is not the time.

  He stiffened and turned on his heel, berating himself once again for his weakness.

  “Let us move on. Follow me.”

  Realizing he’d sounded curt, he advanced, listening for her footsteps in his wake. He wove between the pines and tall oaks, bending his knees as their descent steepened. The light dimmed the farther they went into the lowland forest.

  He slowed his pace when they approached the source of the curling smoke. “Do you smell that?” The aroma of roasting meat flooded his mouth with saliva.

  “I smell a barbecue all right. Let’s hope it doesn’t belong to a cannibal tribe.”

  His heart rate accelerated. “Proceed with caution.” Drawing the dagger from his boot, he crept forward.

  A twig cracked underfoot. He froze, waiting. When no answering shout came from nearby, he resumed his steps. With practiced stealth, he dodged from tree to tree in a half-crouch, until he reached a clearing.

  He parted a couple of branches to get a clear view. An old man sat before a campsite fire, his white beard and hair illuminated by the flames. Focused on the fire, he roasted a wild rabbit over a makeshift spit. Bowls of fruit spread around him as well as several water jugs.

  “Where did he come from?” Nira nudged Zohar from behind as she jostled for a view. “Maybe he’s willing to share his meal.”

  “Or not.”

  Zohar didn’t miss the large staff leaning against a tree within easy reach of the man’s grasp, nor his powerful frame under the canvas robe he wore. Nonetheless, he stuffed the knife back in his boot, hoping to negotiate without the use of force.

  “You can come out from your hiding place.” The old man lifted his gaze to peer directly at them. “You’ve nothing to fear. Join me at my evening meal, my friends.”

  Zohar took Nira’s hand, and they emerged together. Somehow he felt more secure holding her, as though she gave solid substance to his soul.

  The old man’s world-weary eyes regarded them from under furry white brows. “It’s about time you found me. I’d about given up, what with all your chasing around the island and exploring the hills.”

  “You were expecting us?” Zohar regarded the fellow with astonishment.

  Nira elbowed him and spoke in a hush. “I told you we were brought here for a reason. Maybe he’s part of it.” She addressed the stranger. “I’m Nira Larsen, and this is Zohar Thorald. May we sit with you?”

  “Please do.” The man made no move to alter his comfortable perch. “You may call me Askr. Here, you may want to wear these to keep warm.”

  He yanked a sack from behind the tree, rustled out a couple of woolen ponchos, and tossed them to Nira and Zohar.

  They ate in silence. Zohar tore into the roasted leg the old man gave him and followed it with a cluster of sweet berries and a drink of water. His stomach satisfied, he pulled on the cloth wrap. Warmth seeped into his limbs as he relaxed cross-legged before the fire.

  He glanced at his companion. Nira had finished her meal, looking like a cat that just finished a bowl of milk. She huddled in the poncho, her eyes half-lidded. This day had taken its toll on them both.

  He might as well start the conversation. “We were hoping to find a way home before nightfall. Do you know a way off this island?”

  “That depends.” The old man stud
ied each one of them in turn. “Gather your strength. You will need it in the coming darkness.”

  “Yes, it’s getting dark. Soon we won’t be able to see the path.” Zohar shifted impatiently.

  “I don’t think that’s what he means.” Nira pinned the old man with her keen gaze. “Tell me, what exactly is coming?”

  “You will learn the answer during your journey.” His malachite eyes swung toward Zohar. “It is your duty, son of Thor, to protect this woman.” He reached inside his robe and withdrew a shiny object. “Take this amulet. It will keep you from harm.”

  “What did you call me?” As Zohar’s hand closed on the pendant hanging from a gold chain, his palm heated.

  “You are a descendant of Thor, born of the Aesir, dweller of Asgard, the great celestial palace.”

  The old man spoke nonsense. Perhaps he had been confounded. Had the Trolleks touched him and driven him mad?

  His hope plummeted that they’d find an easy route home. At least Askr had given them a decent meal and warm clothing. As for the gift, he could always barter it if they met more hostiles.

  He strung the chain around his neck. As he flipped it inside his shirt, the pendant flashed as though reflecting the fire. He flinched when its warmth penetrated his flesh. What type of metal produced this effect? Surely not pure gold.

  The man pointed a wavering finger. “The charm will protect you, my son. Do not remove it.”

  Nira skirted the fire to kneel by Zohar’s side. “Show me that necklace.” Her fingers grazed his skin, stoking an ember of desire he hadn’t realized he’d left smoldering.

  Lifting the pendant on its chain, she rotated it back and forth in her hand.

  “I know this design. I’ve studied it in history class. This looks like Thor’s hammer.”

  “Who is this Thor you both mention?”

  “Thor was a warrior god of Norse legend. He carried a magic hammer, holding it with iron gloves. The hammer returned like a boomerang when thrown. He called it Mjollnir. A dwarf forged it, like so many other magic objects owned by the gods.”

  “A dwarf.” Skepticism dripped from his tone.

  “I can tell you many stories of Thor’s bravery, but not now.” She turned to their host. “Why do you call Zohar a son of Thor? He’s not even from…he comes from somewhere far distant.”