Raging Sea

by TERRI BRISBIN

“You wish to see a display, Ander?” Soren asked.

  “You saw my hand change, Father,” Ran said.

  “Ah, I did. But it was as I lay delirious. I may have dreamt it.”

  “O ye of little faith,” Soren muttered as he looked to Ran. She nodded and walked to the edge of the loch. He waited for her to go first.

  In an instant, Ran became water. Then she let her form go and seeped into the ground under her feet. A minute later, she rose out of the surface of the loch and took her human shape once more. When she reached his side, Ander nodded at him. As he considered what to do, he noticed that the priest kept poking Ran as though testing her to see if she was real.

  Soren let go of his body and changed into a cloud. Whirling around them, he floated up above them. He spread out in a thin layer and then gathered again, changing to wind in a moment. Ander let out a laugh, appreciating the sight before him. As he soared around them, Soren saw something he could not have seen from the ground.

  Behind a small hill and outcropping of rocks, four people stood—two men and two women. He dropped to the ground behind them and took his human shape before they turned around. His hands tingled as the lightning built within them.

  “Who are you?” he called out.

  His voice sounded like thunder as he spoke. Ander and Ran rushed to his side. The priest reached out to stop him from casting a bolt at them. But one man, the larger man who was clearly a warrior, changed into something else as he sensed the threat of Soren’s power. Something even larger. Something blue. If Soren’s voice was like thunder, this creature’s was an explosion and war cry in one. He prepared to charge Soren but was stopped when one of the women—one who glowed in the hot metal orange of fire—stepped in front of him and placed her hand on his arm, calling him by name.

  “William, he is a friend, not a threat,” she said. The creature growled loudly and seemed to grumble as he stepped back, allowing the woman forward.

  “I am Brienne of Yester,” she said. “We mean you no harm, Stormblood.” She glanced over at the creature and he changed back into the warrior. A blue haze outlined the muscular body of a trained fighter. A knight mayhap? “This is my husband, William de Brus,” she said. “Lately of Scotland.”

  “Why were you hiding here?” Soren asked, lowering his hands and letting the lightning go back into his blood.

  “That was my idea, Soren. I wanted them to see you and meet you. And this is Aislinn and Marcus, their priests,” Ander explained.

  A woman priest? Soren’s shock must have shown, for the young woman stepped closer and said something only to him. “The Old Ones did not worry over women serving them like this new one seems to,” she said.

  Soren looked at the much older man and nodded in greeting. Ander introduced Ran and Soren by their names and heard the priests whisper “Waterblood” and “Stormblood” in wonderment and awe.

  “Will you return with us to our encampment so that we might speak?” Brienne asked them.

  Soren remembered part of the story Ander told him about the bloodlines and their powers. He looked at each one, knowing that William must be the warblood, and Aislinn and Marcus already acknowledged their priesthood. Staring at Brienne, he tried to figure out if she could be fire, the one linked to the war hammer on the drawing. The color around her remained aglow in the shades of fire.

  And if she was, was she related somehow to the fireblood they’d met? The one holding Svein prisoner and doing unspeakable things to others? As though she’d read his thoughts, she held out her arm and tugged her sleeve out of the way.

  Two flames, entwined, burning.

  “Fireblood,” Soren said.

  “We have met the other one,” Ran said, stepping closer to look at the mark. “Hugh de Gifford.”

  At the name, the warblood came out once more, growling and pulling Brienne behind him. “De Gifford,” the blue berserker growled. Though Ran startled at the sight and sound, she did not move away.

  “You have?” Aislinn, Marcus and Brienne asked in one voice.

  “He has my father. And his ships,” Ran admitted.

  Ander stepped in and put up his hand.

  “We should not discuss such matters on the open road. Soren, Ran, come back to the camp with us and we can discuss all manner of subjects.”

  “With us?” Soren asked.

  “I was led to them by dreams, Soren,” Ander admitted in a quiet voice. “I can explain.”

  Although he was leery of going with these strangers, Ander’s vouching for them convinced him. Ran nodded her agreement and they waited for them to retrieve their horses.

  In little time, they crossed over the last hill before reaching the shore and Soren blinked several times before believing the number of men, fighting men and others on that beach.

  Suddenly, it was not the two or three of them fighting this great evil and her minions. It was a large number of trained fighting men, priests and others involved.

  Soren smiled at Ran then, relieved that she might not be placed in the danger that Ingeborg warned him about.

  “They might even know more than Einar,” he whispered to her, as they walked through the area, greeting people as they passed.

  “At least they can tell us more,” she replied, more at ease now than she had been all day.

  They joined a small group made up of, as it turned out, the leaders of this army against evil. In addition to the fireblood and warblood, there were the priests and a few other fighters—human warriors—considered as the leaders. Everyone in the camp followed their orders, but Ran was fascinated by their attitude toward the young woman priest.

  It was clear to see that they favored her. As Aislinn passed, everyone greeted her. They asked her questions. They all tried to find a way to speak to her. She was held in esteem, that much was apparent to Ran as they walked through the camp.

  Questions filled her mind as they gathered to speak. Even as introductions were being made, Ran tried to concentrate on them, rather than the man who remained close at her side now.

  Last night’s folly made the light of morning very uncomfortable for her, for them. Part of her wanted nothing more than to dissolve into the ground and spend the day with the sea and rivers instead of facing Soren. Now, surrounded by dozens of others, it was easier not to look at him. Not to blush in embarrassment for what she’d said and, worse, what she’d done with him. To be amongst others made it possible to pretend it had not happened.

  But, if they were to give her father and his men, many of whom she’d grown up with or sailed with, a chance at survival, she needed to learn more about this nobleman who served an ancient evil.

  “Aislinn, do you want to speak first?” William asked.

  “You must be overwhelmed by all of this, all of us,” the lovely young woman said. Her eyes seemed to glow and there was a faint color, like moonlight, around her. “Marcus and I and the other priests, save yours”—she nodded at Ander—“have lived apart on a small island off the southwest of Scotland for a long time. We have studied the ancient legends and Old Ones. We worship them in man’s place, keeping the rituals alive.”

  “Aislinn is the strongest seer ever to come amongst us,” Marcus added. “Some months ago, her dreams grew stronger and more prophetic. Then one night, our own blood rose, as did our marks, and we knew the evil one was trying to reenter the world.”

  “That is the story I told you,” Ander added. “I found many more versions of that same one in other books. It is an ancient battle fought many times.”

  “But how is this all possible?” Soren asked as he took her hand in his. It was a comforting gesture that felt right to her for now. “You have been trained for this, spent your lives studying. How did we get this power? How did they?” He nodded at Brienne and William.

  “My father was bred for it,” Brienne said. “His family has remained faithful to t
he evil one through the centuries.”

  Ran stared at her and realized the similarities to the nobleman who held her father. The same black hair. The same amber eyes. “Hugh de Gifford is your father?”

  “Aye. But my existence and inheritance of the power was an unplanned surprise for him,” she explained with a soft glance at her husband. “He tried to pass his power to a noble daughter, but the gods had a different plan.”

  She was a bastard.

  “I was sent by the king to investigate the strange stories. He feared that Hugh de Gifford was involved in sedition. What I found was more, so much more than that,” William said softly. He lifted the hand he’d entwined with Brienne’s and kissed hers. The love between them was difficult to watch, considering the love lost between her and Soren. She pulled her hand from his.

  “I had no idea that I would find Brienne or the power I have or the rest. And we are still learning about our powers,” William said and looked at her and Soren. “Now you are facing the same decision we had to make but know you are not alone.”

  “Tell us how you discovered the truth,” Aislinn said. Soren nodded at Ran.

  “I have always lived with the sea, sailed it,” Ran said. “Then, on my journey here, I fell from the ship and I heard voices in the sea. When I survived, I knew something was happening but had no idea of what or how.” Ran smiled at each as she spoke. They understood the confusion and fear she’d felt.

  “Then the mark rose and I knew I was different. When I next saw Soren and could see the aura of color around him, I suspected he was somehow involved.”

  “How fortuitous that you two were already known to each other,” Marcus said.

  “And lovers,” Brienne said. At Ran’s frown, the woman changed her words. “In love.”

  “Nay!” she protested at the same time Soren did. Standing, she moved away from Soren so there could be no mistake.

  “We are not . . .”

  “Our families each knew the other,” Soren explained. “In Orkney, many families have been here for centuries. Some from even before the Norse took control.”

  An awkward silence took hold. The men, Ran saw, were clearly uncomfortable. The women, well, their gazes filled with sympathy as they met her eyes.

  “I beg your pardon,” Brienne said. “I misunderstood your connection and did not mean to speak of such personal things.” But the knowing look in her gaze belied her words. As did the exact same one in Aislinn’s.

  “My grandfather knew about the Old Ones,” Soren said, breaking the tension and while looking at everyone else but Ran. “He had told me stories since I was a child. I did not understand what they were until he passed. That was when things changed for me.”

  The sadness and loss in his voice tore at her heart. He reached inside his tunic and brought out his last connection to Einar, holding them out to the group. Ander nodded to the other priests.

  “He told me that I carried the blood and power of the god of the sky and storms. Taranis, he said. I did not believe him until it was too late to tell him so.”

  “We have all lost much,” William said. “Friends, family, possessions and our lives. All given to this cause. Hugh killed my father to ease his path.” William stood then and pulled Brienne to his side. “But we have gained much in this quest. I have gained much,” he said. “The question is: will you fight the evil one who attempts to come back to our world and destroy it?”

  All Ran had wanted was to marry the man she loved and live the expected life—home, children and contentedness. Ran knew that no matter the choice, no matter her actions, that expected future was already gone, shattered along with her dreams.

  “I need to free my father. If you will help me do that, I will do what you need of me,” Ran said. She knew the meaning of the sad glances she received. She understood that the odds in this particular gamble were against her father, but the whole endeavor was risky at best and deadly at worst.

  Suddenly she could take no more talking. No more powers. No more. Ran turned and walked down to the water’s edge, away from all the planning. More confused than the day she’d found out about Soren’s betrayal, she crouched down and touched the water, seeking some solace.

  Ran had emptied her mind of thoughts and fears as she touched the water. It was as though they accepted all of it and allowed her a moment of peace. The emptiness did not help her sort out her feelings or plans, but it was exactly what she needed.

  After some time had passed, she understood that she needed to return to the others and sort through the turmoil, so she thanked the sea and stood up. Turning toward the camp, she found Soren standing a short distance away.

  “Do you know how long you have sought the sea for comfort? Whenever you are near it, you touch the water. In a boat or on a ship, you lean over and stare into it. Water has always been in your life.”

  She walked toward him. “And have storms always been part of your life, Soren?” she asked. Then, before he could reply, she nodded. “Ah, they have. As a farmer, and a sailor before that, storms have always controlled your life. Too much rain or too much wind and the crops fail. The same with sailing. Both too much and too little can harm your efforts.”

  “True,” he said. “But I never could have conceived of something like this. That I could call them forth. I thought myself simply a farmer, with a farmer’s life ahead of me. And I was content with that, Ran.”

  His words matched her thoughts exactly. Again they were in harmony. And yet, not at all.

  “Soren, I know that my father’s life is most likely forfeit. I know that Hugh de Gifford intends his death.” She walked up to him and met his gaze directly. “But I must try. I must try.”

  He nodded and looked over her head for a moment, to where the others waited. Ran knew that there had been something between Soren and her father. Something bad. But now, without him, her father stood no chance.

  She’d walked out of Soren’s life, never expecting to see him again. Ran had asked for no explanations of his side of their sad ending and had given him no chance to offer one. Now, she asked him to help her in something that might even cost his life in addition to hers.

  “Your father does not expect my help, Ran. There is ill will between us,” he began, still not looking at her.

  When she would have pursued what he’d said, he forestalled her with the stubborn jut of his chin and his fierce blue gaze. “I cannot speak of it, but he will think himself forsaken if the decision were left to me.”

  “And is he forsaken, Soren?”

  “Nay,” he said on an exhalation. “I will help you, Ran.”

  Ran knew she would get no more than that from him. His agreement to help was all she needed. She would have told him that she was grateful. That she would find a way to repay him or to show him how much it meant to her.

  Somehow.

  “I think we need to know where they are. If we loosened our hold on them the night before last, they could be anywhere,” Soren said.

  It made sense.

  “I will go and find them.”

  “Ran?” Soren touched her arm as she moved past him toward the sea. “Have a care. He is a dangerous man.”

  As she melted into the sea and sought her father, Ran realized that she did not know if Soren spoke of Hugh de Gifford or her father . . . or both.

  She thought it was the latter.

  Chapter 14

  Ran approached the ships slowly this time, trying to observe before moving closer. The ships traveled in an orderly line, coming from Westray and taking the outside channel around the islands. From their heading and speed, she guessed Father was taking them around the southern approach and through and into Scapa Flow.

  As though he was going home.

  It was the course set to return to Orphir.

  “Come, Waterblood!” Hugh de Gifford stood at the side of her fath
er’s ship, inviting her aboard. “Come and speak with us.”

  “Ran! Get away!” her father yelled as he ran along the side of the ship. “If it is you, go! Go now!”

  He could not see her as part of the sea. De Gifford now could.

  “Svein, lucky for you, your daughter will not be so foolish as to leave without hearing my offer.”

  She watched as de Gifford took hold of her father’s arm with a hand that glowed like the metal in a smith’s fire. Her father screamed at the agony of such a hold.

  Ran moved like a wave toward the ship and placed herself on the deck before changing her form. She ran to her father and touched de Gifford’s hand, sending plumes of steam into the air. No matter how much water she put on it, the burning did not stop.

  “I am here,” she yelled, stepping away, now fully in her human body. “Stop, I pray you. Stop.”

  Now horror replaced the pain on her father’s face as she walked toward him. When de Gifford let go his grasp and Ran tried to help him, her father recoiled from her touch.

  “What are you?” he asked. “Are you some perversion like he is? An ungodly creature?”

  The words cut into her heart. But he was in terrible condition and had suffered at this evil one’s orders. Ran looked around at the other crew members and saw the same horror and fear in their gazes.

  “Bjorn,” she said, walking to the older man. He backed away from her and then made the Sign of the Cross over himself, as most of them did. Askell would not even meet her eyes.

  A part of her died then, realizing that they would never accept her as Ran Sveinsdottir again. Well, if she was waterblood, she would do what she could to protect them. It was the reason the old gods set up their bloodlines—to protect mankind. She faced de Gifford and studied him for a moment, now seeing the coloring of Brienne in his face.

  “What is it that you want of me?” she asked. She noticed that his black hair was now more gray than black. A change since she’d seen him the first time. He seemed older now.

  “I want you to take your rightful place in the order of things,” he said. “You have powers that they cannot understand or accept.” He nodded to the men who had just rebuffed her approach. “At my side, you will learn the full extent of them.” De Gifford walked closer and whispered. “You have no idea of what you can truly do.”