“But what will make this time different,” Aislinn said softly, looking at Ran and Soren, “is that neither of those who must enter is the fireblood. So Hugh cannot do this himself.”
“So we are safe because he needs us?” she asked.
“No one is safe, Ran,” Marcus said, with a sad smile. “Once the three are within the circle, it closes itself so none can enter. But if the wrong prayers are spoken, all within will be destroyed.” He met their gazes then. “All three within would be destroyed, leaving Hugh alive to find the next gate and leaving us without two of the bloodlines.”
“But the gate would be sealed?” she asked. More and more it sounded as though a sacrifice of some kind must be made to overcome this evil. A sacrifice of their own lives.
“The gate would be useless, but not sealed. And we will have lost three valuable people of power with two more gates where he could succeed,” Aislinn added.
“But if he is not within and cannot enter, then Soren and I and Aislinn or Marcus can finish the ritual and seal it closed.”
“Hugh will not allow us to come out unscathed,” William said. “He and his men killed a number of our fighting men and our priests. We cannot afford such a loss again,” he warned.
“So Hugh will have to believe he controls someone or two or all three of those who go in?” Ran asked.
“He would not trust any of you to do his bidding,” Soren suggested. “That is why he took Ander. He will torture him until he follows his orders and then send him in to say the prayers.”
“But he is not practiced in our worship!” Marcus objected. “He knows not the prayers or the ceremonies or how to bond with us.”
“The gods have marked him, Marcus. As they decided that Einar would have powers and knowledge such as he had,” Aislinn added. “Already Ander has learned much through dreams and visions.”
They grew quiet, taking all of this into consideration.
“Ander is a faithful servant of his God,” Marcus said. “Would he not rather give up his mortal life to save his immortal soul?”
“Aye, Marcus, he would,” Soren agreed. “Unless he thought he was fighting evil.” His voice had dropped so low it had been difficult to hear him.
With a quick signal, William motioned to all of them to cease talking. Ran watched as glances were shared and nods of assent went through the group. She thought she understood what was happening, but she wanted to speak to Soren in private.
“’Tis late and there is much to think on,” William announced. “We will make our plans on the morrow.” Standing, he held out his arm to his wife. “Brienne?”
Everyone watched as they left and walked toward their tent. Marcus and Roger remained, speaking about some matter. Aislinn told her of the uneasy friendship between the two—one who relied only on what he could see or know and the other who had faith only in the unknown and unseen.
She and Soren had been sleeping apart, but she did not want that now. A sense of impending disaster grew within her with each passing hour and day, and she wanted to be with him.
“I will walk you to your tent,” Soren said, waiting for her. “Come.”
“Ran,” Aislinn touched her arm before she could walk away. “I have moved my things to another tent, so that you may . . .” Aislinn looked at Soren and back at her; now the priestess was the one to blush. “I thought you would like to be together.”
Ran smiled as the young woman rushed away. As always, the brutish Norman soldier dogged her steps. Hand in hand, Ran and Soren walked to the tent positioned nearest the water and entered. As soon as they did, the winds began to swirl and blow outside.
“I thought you were controlling them?”
“I am,” he said, with a mysterious smile.
Did he plan to take her again now? Did his hunger match hers? She began to unlace the strung-together laces of her gown, hoping to save them from further damage, when he placed his hand on hers and shook his head.
“The winds will cover all manner of noise this night,” he whispered, as he put his finger to his lips. “Fog would be a welcomed help.”
A minute passed and then the back flap of the tent lifted and William entered. With a nod to her, they sat down in the dark tent and discussed a plan of Soren’s that he had hinted at.
The night that she thought would be spent in his arms was instead spent with a parade of visitors, whose arrivals and departures were covered by the winds whipping outside or by the fog that formed and dissipated several times through that night.
• • •
“So what is the plan then, William Warblood?” Marcus asked.
Ran walked out of their tent to find the discussion going on in the center of the camp. Loud enough for everyone to hear.
“The same we used before, the two go into the circle with the priest and perform the ritual. The rest of us will deal with whatever Hugh brings against us outside the circle.” William glanced at Marcus and Aislinn. “Once you reveal and open the circle.”
“It will not work,” Soren said, walking up and sending the discussion into an uproar. “I know you are the trained knight and warblood, but we need to attempt something different. He will use whatever and whomever he can against us—against Ran and me. He has her father and all his men. He has my friend.”
“And how do you think it should work, Soren?” William asked. Ran winced at his belligerent tone. When he crossed his arms over his massive chest and his gaze grew red, everyone but Brienne became nervous. “You do not know this man. There are no limitations to his evildoing. He will crush your friend and then destroy all of us.”
Soren stood and went toe to toe with the warblood then. Not a good idea from the growling sounds the slightly blue warrior was making. Brienne stepped between them, whispering furiously to her husband, who once again was his human self. Letting out a breath, William spoke calmly now.
“How do you think this should be handled?”
“I think that I will make a bargain with de Gifford to protect all that is important to me.” His gaze fell on Ran and she felt the heat of a blush in her cheeks once more.
“You are not with us, Stormblood?” Marcus asked.
“I do not know any of you. Why should I accept your word on this?” Soren said, indignantly. “Lord de Gifford has offered safety for me and those I care for. I can protect my lands and retain my power when his goddess comes.”
“When did he offer this to you?” William asked.
“I went searching for Ran’s father. Lord Hugh and I spoke.” Ran winced again, knowing full well it was not a discussion. But for their purposes here and now, she did not contradict him.
“You think to trust him? Do not, Soren,” said Brienne.
“I do not trust him, but I know not all of you. You arrived on our island and began giving me orders. Tell me why I must do what you say.” Soren crossed his arms now and shook his head. “I will speak to him and see if I can trust him.”
“You cannot unleash this evil on the world, no matter what promise he makes you,” Roger argued. “Believe not a word he says.”
“As I said, I will make my own judgment.”
“And when he destroys you and everyone and everything you hold dear? How are we supposed to stop him then?” Brienne asked. “He is my father, Soren. I know him. Do not trust him.”
Soren stood alone in the middle of them, each one trying to convince him to stay. It was time for her to play her role.
“Soren, what do you mean to do?”
“I told you, Ran. These people are the strangers here. I am going back to speak with Lord Hugh. To strike a bargain,” Soren said.
“But he holds my father and Ander, demanding our compliance,” she said. “We cannot bargain to let evil return to this world.”
“I think if we give him what he wants, he will leave our lands and our lives can
go back to what they were,” Soren said.
“What life would that be, Soren? The one we planned to have together? The one that you destroyed by seducing my brother’s betrothed? Or the one you have now? You have none because the woman you seduced and was forced to marry died.”
Try as she might to say these things as though in a play, the bitterness that lived within her seeped into the words. Aislinn, Brienne and Soren watched her closely and she knew they’d heard the truth within the planned words.
“I think you should go, Soren,” she said, turning away from him.
He disappeared in a second.
A strong wind wound its way through the camp, pulling up tents and stirring up the sands. When it moved out over the sea, she could feel him touching the water.
“What will we do now, William?” she asked. Ran did not know the next step, only that they would wait for Hugh to communicate with Soren.
“We should move our camp to be closer to the circle. We must be there to help however we can,” he said. Raising his voice, he continued. “We have to hope he comes to his senses and realizes he cannot bargain with the devil and think to win.”
She nodded and watched the warblood walk off. She felt sick—her stomach roiled and her head hurt, almost as though they had truly fought. Even knowing most of it had been a performance meant for the spies sent by Hugh, all she wanted to do was go to the sea. But to do so now would look as though she chased after Soren.
She would, though not yet.
So she went to find Aislinn and hoped the young priestess could share more of her knowledge about the old gods with her.
Chapter 19
Soren followed the winds as they encircled the island, allowing them to lead him. In spite of knowing they’d planned it all out to give de Gifford’s spies something to report, he did not like it.
Most of all, he hated saying what he had to Ran and hearing her words about their separation. Under those words lay the betrayal that would never ease between them. For even if he explained and she believed him, there was still the fact that he had not chosen her. And worse, it was not his bairn that Aslaug took to her death, but Ran’s brother’s. Another secret he kept from her.
He laughed then, bitterness now filling his heart.
All for naught. All for naught.
Well, his grandfather would have died a terrible death, so he was grateful it had never come to that.
And if these powers had risen at the time they were together and promised one to the other, how differently this might end.
Soren followed the winds higher and higher until he could look down on all of Orkney in one view. Going lower and lower until he was over the two largest of the Mainland’s lakes, he searched the place where they believed the circle was. From up here, Soren could see the faint outline of it out in the middle of the lake. The size was immense, bigger than any henge of earth or stone he’d ever seen. Easily it was twice as large as nearby Brodgar’s Ring.
How low had the water been for men to build such a wonder? Considering how far out in the lake it was, he could not estimate the number of years since its creation. He knew of other stones and walls that now lay under the sea because of changes to the coastline from decades or centuries of relentless storms and currents. Had that happened here?
Swirling lower, he noticed the way the earth pitched near it, making it look as though the whole of the circle simply slid off the edge of the land into the water.
Had it? Had those gods Ran had witnessed had enough power to accomplish such a thing? If the powers they imbued into their bloodlines were any indication, he would have to say that they did have enough to cause such a thing to happen.
And what power would it take to raise it from the lake bed? Or to move the water away and hold it until they performed the ritual? Would they have enough power to do both? All while fending off both the other warriors and de Gifford’s men?
Soaring high again, he knew he would need to wait at least a day before seeking out de Gifford. His reason to go to him would be to confirm Ander’s imprisonment and to seek information about his friend’s condition. He had no doubt that de Gifford would try to lure him in. Soren knew he must not be too arrogant in his ability to fool this man. Pride must have no place in this or he would fail, as would they all.
Unable to seek out Ran, Soren returned to his own farm, changing where no one could see him and walking his lands. He spoke to those who worked the lands for him and his cousin who oversaw it now. For a few hours, it was like returning to the life he thought would be his.
He worked alongside them through the day and shared their meal. With nowhere to go, he slept in his own bed, for what he knew would be the last time and morning found him well rested. Soren wrote out a document turning all of his property over to his cousin and left it there. He took some time to write a letter to his aunt, hoping to explain more about what he’d learned since seeing her last. He prayed that she had traveled north.
Finally, the time came for him to seek out the one man who could be the death of everyone he knew . . . if de Gifford succeeded. When he arrived in Orphir, Soren was determined that he would stop the man and the evil he worshipped from ever entering his world.
Soren found nothing to be as he expected it.
After the scene on the ships at Westray, he expected chaos and disarray. He expected a desperate force of men enslaved against their will.
Instead he found a well-ordered encampment surrounding Svein’s house. The ships were farther out in the bay, but repairs were being made to them. Men training at arms. Men organizing supplies. Men preparing food.
He walked along the path from the road and was greeted by one of the guards. If the man thought that someone appearing out of the air was an oddity, he said nothing and did nothing other than point him in the direction where his lord could be found. The surroundings were clean and the atmosphere calm, though as he walked closer to the house, he felt some tension growing.
The last time he’d visited this place was over two years ago. Svein had summoned him and Aslaug as though he were king and they his subjects. Soren had mistakenly thought the subject to be discussed would be upcoming marriages. He expected Ran and her brother to arrive at any time. He expected his request to marry Svein’s daughter would be taken seriously.
He’d left, they’d left, bound in a terrible plot that, meant to save the ones they loved, cost too much. If Soren had only known the truth then. If he’d known about Einar’s faith. If he’d known what the results would be, he might have had the strength to stand against her father.
Soren took in and then let out a deep breath as he approached the doorway. This house was modest for a man of Svein’s tastes. Instead of a fortress to defend him and his family, he’d chosen a stone house near the water. Svein’s reputation for ruthlessness kept any petty thieves away. His connections to the bishop through generous contributions of prayer and gold and his connection by kin to the now-absent earl stood him in good stead.
But Lord Hugh de Gifford cared nothing for Svein’s position or connections; he simply wanted to use the man for whatever he could. And he had.
“You look like a man considering choices.”
Soren looked up into the very face of evil.
He’d seen and heard de Gifford only once before and the man from that encounter and this man were completely at odds. Instead of the person he’d seen before, he found a man he thought now too young to be Brienne’s father. Vitality shone from the man’s face and stature. He wore the costly garments and jewels of a wealthy nobleman. His name spoke of a French or Norman background though his accent gave neither away.
“I am,” Soren replied.
De Gifford motioned for him to follow and led him to the chamber Svein had used during their discussion. Had he chosen this room intentionally? When de Gifford smiled, Soren knew the answer.
“So the dealings with Svein you have had in the past—they happened here?”
He had already decided that the truth about this would be his best weapon, so he glanced around the room and nodded.
“He forced you to disavow your beloved, marry his son’s betrothed and live a lie or he would destroy your family.” He knew it all, probably from Svein’s own lips.
“Aye,” Soren said. “And Aslaug’s family as well.”
“And the bairn she carried.” De Gifford knew it all from the expression in his eyes. Soren nodded again, watching and waiting for de Gifford’s first move. Well, second, since bringing him to the place of his failure and humiliation was the first.
“And you want to save him?” de Gifford asked, sitting in the large chair used only by Svein.
“I do not wish to save him,” Soren admitted. “She wishes to save him.”
“Ahhh. The daughter who has let you back into her . . . well, certainly not bed, for that is the one place where you haven’t fucked her yet.”
Soren struggled to keep an even temperament. Control was essential now.
“Women can be forgiving,” Soren said, smiling at the man. “Very, very forgiving.”
“So I can kill him now?” Hugh asked calmly.
Soren held back from the word he wanted to say. He could not appear too eager.
“I do not want to save him, but I do not want you to kill him. I want him to know his failure. I want him to confess his crimes against me to his daughter and then I will kill him. In front of her.” Soren turned away and stared out the window at the sea. “If you kill him, he becomes a martyr. Svein can be no martyr.”
“For a simple farmer, Stormblood, you have interesting friends and enemies. In this moment, I cannot decide which it is better to be.”
Raging Sea Page 18
