Warrior Reborn Read online

  “I need . . .” He struggled to form the words. Pain radiated from his neck up through his face, and his jaw shivered from the cold gripping him.

  “Allow me, my lord.”

  With a nod of permission, Torquil raised his arms, allowing Ulfr to drop a tunic down over his head, followed by his plaid and a heavy fur draped over his shoulders.

  He could feel his strength returning and with it, his determination.

  “Take me to her,” he ordered.

  The Lady Danielle, wife of his brother Malcolm, would pay for her crime against him now. He would wring the life from her with his bare hands after she disclosed to him how she’d been able to do whatever it was she’d done to him.

  “This way, my lord.”

  As he followed Ulfr across the clearing, he took stock of his surroundings for the first time.

  The men who had accompanied him were dead. Yes, he remembered that now. Another crime to lay at Malcolm’s feet. To his left lay the crumpled body of his youngest brother, Dermid.

  A pity, that. The weak-minded lad had been easily controlled to perform Torquil’s bidding. But no matter, there were others who would substitute as well.

  As he approached the woman’s body propped against the large tree, his irritation spiked. His sister Christiana laid there, not the woman he sought.

  He realized as he scanned the clearing that none of the others were here. The bodies were those of his men only.

  “Malcolm? The women?” he demanded of Ulfr. “Where have they gone?”

  The captain shook his head. “There were none here when we arrived but those you see now, my lord. Only you and Lady Christiana, and we have not been able to awaken her from her sleep.”

  Torquil strode to the spot where his half sister lay.

  Little wonder they hadn’t been able to awaken her; it wasn’t sleep that claimed her. Though her body was present, her spirit was gone, flying on the wings of one of her Visions. The red blotches staining her cheeks, the darting of her eyes beneath the delicate sweep of her lashes, the almost imperceptible movement of her full, soft lips were sure signs that Christiana inhabited a vision of the future.

  She wouldn’t awaken until Skuld released her back into this world.

  Her ability to see the future was the one gift she’d inherited from their ancient ancestor, Odin. The one gift he wanted for himself above all others. It was the reason he allowed her to live, and the reason he would never allow her to leave Tordenet Castle.

  “Bring her,” he ordered, fisting his hand as he turned away, fighting the impure thoughts that plagued him each time he looked upon Christiana. It was her gift—and only her gift!—that he wanted from her. Anything else was unacceptable. “We return to Tordenet.”

  There was no use in following his brother Malcolm now. He would wait, preparing himself, building his strength. In time, with proper planning, he would have his revenge. Malcolm and all the MacGahan would fall to him, as would everyone else. With his powers and Christiana’s Vision to guide him, he would one day return the world to the way it should be. The way it had been when the Ancient Ones walked the land.

  And he, Torquil of Katanes, heir of Odin, would take his rightful place as ruler of all.

  Two

  Why?”

  Torquil’s voice rang loudly off the high stone ceiling of his solar. Christiana had known this question was coming from the moment she’d made the decision to remain behind in the clearing. She only wished her thoughts weren’t so muddled, so she could better reply.

  Her body felt as weak as a newborn lamb and her mind was dull, as if it were wrapped in layers of freshly shorn wool.

  Her eyes flickered up to meet her brother’s angry glare before returning to the floor at her feet. She needed time to gather her wits. Time to find the words that might satisfy Torquil. The words that might save her life.

  The stones beneath her feet seemed to shift and roll as she stared at them, and she lifted her arms out to her sides to maintain her balance.

  “Might I ask my laird’s indulgence to allow me to be seated?”

  It was difficult enough to deceive Torquil on her most clever days, without the distraction of wondering whether her legs would stop supporting her at any moment.

  “I’ve no inclination to provide for yer comfort. No with treachery such as yers hanging heavy over yer head. Now answer my question. Why did you betray me?”

  As a child, Christiana had often spied on her father’s warriors as they’d trained, admiring their skill and dedication, envying their freedom to come and go as they pleased. The words so often intoned by the old listmaster returned to her now.

  You canna depend on defense alone, lads. That’s a ploy what leads to a sure death. Distract and attack. That’s the path to victory. Distract and attack.

  Praying the old warrior had been correct, she gave in to the weakness dragging her down and crumpled to a heap on the hard stone floor. Behind her she heard a flurry of movement, but the steps halted as quickly as they’d begun. None here would defy her brother’s will to come to her assistance.

  “How long was I . . .” She paused, lifting her gaze to again meet Torquil’s glare as she allowed the words to linger in the air around them. “How long was I lost to the—”

  “Clear the chamber!” Torquil bellowed, lurching up from behind his table as his startled men rushed from their laird’s solar.

  She’d suspected that her brother didn’t want to share the knowledge of her Visions with everyone.

  “Have a care to yer tongue, Sister,” he warned in a low growl as he loomed over her.

  Christiana nodded, waiting until the door closed behind the last man before speaking again. “I canna seem to put my mind in a straight line, Brother. I dinna even ken how I came to be here. My last memory is of a quiet forest clearing where I lay down to seek guidance from the Visions. Then, in the next moment, yer men were pulling me from my room and bringing me here.”

  “Hardly a moment,” Torquil snorted. “We’ve waited three days for you to awaken.”

  “Three days!” Little wonder she felt so weak and disoriented. “The Visions have never kept me so long.”

  “That little fact has no escaped me. Along with an explanation of yer behavior, I’ll be wanting a full accounting of what you saw as you traversed Skuld’s world.”

  She’d like to know that accounting herself. Her memories of the Vision were clouded and merged, as if she’d been presented with too many options mixed together, and she’d experienced them layered one on top of another, all occurring simultaneously.

  “You’ve every right to be angry with me.” She paused to gather herself, picking her words with care. “It’s only that I’ve never had a sister before, and I wanted Orabilis to meet Danielle. I should have asked yer permission to take her with me to visit Orabilis, but it was my belief you would deny such a request, so, selfishly, I dinna ask it of you.”

  “Indeed?” Torquil stared at her, no doubt weighing the truth of her words. “Is that also yer reason for assisting in Malcolm’s escape? Because you dinna think I would agree to it?”

  Christiana’s heart pounded. Her next words could well determine whether she lived or died.

  “In spite of what you may think, I dinna assist Malcolm into that wagon. When we came to the edge of the forest and he emerged from that barrel, it was the first I’d seen of him since my visit to the cell where you held him prisoner.”

  Every single word she uttered was technically true, as anything she said had to be. She honestly had wanted Orabilis to meet Malcolm’s wife. No need to add that she’d known when they left Tordenet Castle that they’d never reach the old crone’s home. Just as there was no need to add that from the moment she’d helped her brother escape from his cell, she’d made sure she stayed ahead of him and never looked back, specifically so that she wouldn’t see him. She’d even stood with her back to the wagon as the others helped him climb into the barrel and covered him in flour, for she had kn
own that this moment would come.

  Torquil’s eyes narrowed, distrust rolling off him in great, heaving waves of emotion so powerful that she felt their energy wash over her.

  “You expect me to believe you had nothing to do with our brother’s escape?”

  “I expect nothing of you, Torquil. You ken as well as I do that the price I pay for the gift of Vision is my inability to speak a falsehood. How many times have I shared with you that which I dinna want to share? How many times have I given the answers I dinna want to give?”

  Too many times to count, before she’d learned the key lay in her intent, not in her words. The line between truth and deception was thin enough to be obscured by a carefully chosen word.

  “So you have, my gentle Christiana.”

  Torquil reached down to grip her upper arms, his hands like iron bands as he lifted her to her feet. His eyes, hard and cold, locked on hers when he pulled her face close to his, filling her with a fear that would have sent her once again to her knees had he not supported her.

  “I want yer promise, yer sworn oath, that you’ll no ever try such as this again.”

  Easy enough to promise. It wasn’t as if the same situation would ever present itself again.

  “I will never again attempt to take someone to Orabilis without first asking yer permission.”

  She was forced to her tiptoes as he pulled her closer still, his head dipping next to hers.

  “Swear it,” he insisted, his hot breath fanning over her skin as his mouth hovered next to her ear.

  Fighting the fear, she forced her lips to move. “I so swear.”

  “Good.” He moved back from her, his expression triumphant. “If no you, then who was it who aided Malcolm in his escape? You must have seen someone.”

  “What?” Foolishly, she hadn’t anticipated that question.

  “If no you, which of my men betrayed me by helping Malcolm in his escape?”

  Rauf’s long, thin face filled her mind and she fought to push the vision away lest her brother somehow read her thoughts. “None of those loyal to you would ever—” she began.

  “I’ve no time for yer word games,” Torquil interrupted, his voice as sharp as the look with which he pierced her. “Obviously none loyal to me would have helped our brother. I ask you again, which of my men is a traitor?”

  “I . . . I have no way to answer you. I am no aware of any of yer men who would dare to cross you.”

  A truth, though only by the thinnest thread. Rauf was not one of Torquil’s men. His loyalty was to her father, the old laird. He’d been tasked with watching over her younger brother, Dermid, but upon her father’s death he’d become her man, as her father had instructed him. She would die before she would expose him for his part in Malcolm’s escape.

  “As you say,” Torquil murmured, obviously weighing her every word. “Since it appears I’ll learn nothing of this matter from you, I’d have yer account of what you saw while you traveled Skuld’s world. I want to know everything.”

  He would not like what she had to say.

  “I have no words to describe what I remember. I’m left with memories of feelings, more than of specific events.”

  “I’ve no interest in yer feelings. I want to hear of yer time in the Visions. Try harder,” he hissed, one hand moving up to grip her throat. “Try as if yer life depended upon it.”

  She had not a single doubt that her life did depend upon it.

  “It was unlike anything I’ve experienced in the Visions before. Always before I’ve seen the choices Skuld affords us laid out ahead of me like trails I could travel, though many were shadowed in the Myst of Choice. I’ve always known that each of those paths has many branches, each representing the choices we are free to make along the way. But in the past, I’ve traveled only one pathway to its conclusion. Always the one where the Myst has lifted.”

  “And yet”—his fingers tightened ever so slightly, digging into her skin—“you’ve warned of all those choices that I should avoid.”

  She nodded as best she could, her movement constrained by his grip. “I was always granted glimmers of the consequences of other trails, of other decisions. Spots along the way where the Myst had cleared. Sometimes the end of a path. But never the fullness of all those paths. Never until now.”

  His fingers loosened but didn’t leave her throat. “And this time?”

  “This time it was as if I was being shown every possible outcome, all at once. So many choices, so many paths, intertwining, entangled, one layered upon another until I could not tell where one ended and the next began. I felt splintered, shattered, torn in so many directions, each an endless multitude of intersecting corridors, like some intricate web woven by a crazed spider.”

  So much information laid out before her, yet she’d come away with almost nothing.

  “What did you see of my plans?” Again Torquil’s eyes narrowed.

  “I saw at least one pathway leading to yer defeat.”

  “And my victory? Did you see the pathway leading to that possibility as well?”

  “I saw that possibility. It exists, but only with the correct combination of choices.”

  Fear knotted her stomach again as Torquil dipped his head next to hers. His hair teased against her cheek even as his hot breath feathered over her ear when he spoke.

  “I’ve decided to have mercy upon you, little sister. For now, at least. You’d no be wise to disappoint me again.”

  He held her there for a moment longer, her heart beating wildly, and then, just when she was sure he could taste her fear, he dropped his hands from her and stepped away.

  “May I return to my chambers now?” Her voice shook, far beyond her ability to control it.

  “You may.”

  Christiana had taken barely two steps before her brother spoke again.

  “I send riders forth even now to recruit more men to my cause. In the spring, I will ride against Castle MacGahan. You have seen this?”

  “I have. There are bits and pieces of it in my memories.” He wanted more from her, as he always did. But in this she must move slowly.

  “And building my ranks, bringing in new men—is this one of the correct choices?” Irritation crept into his clipped tones even as he kept his back turned to her.

  “It is an absolute necessity.” She paused, weighing the importance of what she would say next. “There will be one among them who is essential to the desired outcome.” Essential to the outcome she desired, that is.

  He turned in her direction, surprise and interest warring in his expression. “You’ve seen a warrior who will champion my cause?”

  “I’ve seen a champion, yes.” Though not of Torquil’s cause.

  “You will recognize this man on sight?”

  “I’ve seen him only in a haze, never clearly enough to identify his features.” And yet, she couldn’t imagine not recognizing the sound of his voice or the feel of his touch when he finally arrived. So familiar they had become to her, she often had to remind herself the man was nothing more to her than her rescuer.

  “He was a part of yer Visions and yet his visage remains a mystery to you. If you’ll no recognize him, how am I to distinguish him from all the other newcomers?”

  “I canna say how you will pick him from the others. I ken only that he will be different somehow. The Vision was quite clear that he alone will determine the difference between success and failure.”

  Torquil nodded slowly, beginning to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, his hands clasped behind his back. At last his footsteps halted and he turned a narrowed gaze back in her direction.

  “And this man of great importance to me, this champion of mine, will he have any interaction with you, little sister?”

  Her heart skipped a beat, but she answered without delay. “He will.”

  “Do you think to lie with him?”

  Christiana gasped, unable to hide her shock at such a personal question. “No!”

  It wasn’t
as if this were the love of her heart she awaited. If that were the case, surely the Visions would have given some hint in that direction. True, she felt a strange elation each time he appeared in the Visions, but that made sense: he was the one who would deliver her from her captivity.

  “That had best be the case, little sister. You are my property and I will permit trespass from none. Champion or no, if this stranger thinks to bed you, I’ll have his head on a pike over my gate and serve up his entrails for buzzard feed. Is that clear?”

  She could only nod, terrified by the strange glitter in his eyes and the vehemence in his voice.

  “Very well, then. I will think upon all you have told me this day. Best you pray to the Ancient Ones that they send my new champion quickly. Now, leave me.”

  “As you bid me, my laird, so shall it be.”

  With a dip of her head, she made her way to the door and outside, breathing deeply only after she’d traversed the wide entry hall and stepped into the fresh air.

  With renewed purpose, she hurried across the bailey and into the small tower at the far edge of the castle wall. Her quarters. Her refuge.

  She set about building a fire in the cold pit before filling a small pot with water and tossing in a few well-chosen herbs. The warm tonic would soothe her nerves and mellow the worries plaguing her heart.

  As she waited for the water to bubble, her thoughts drifted to her brother’s edict.

  Best you pray to the Ancient Ones that they send my new champion quickly.

  He had no idea that she wanted that more than anything else. She’d been sending those prayers up to the Ancient Ones for many months, with a new twist added now.

  A prayer that the Elf who’d accompanied her new sister would keep the promise she had made in the glen. For without her aid, all would be lost.

  Three

  LAZY J RANCH, MONTANA

  PRESENT DAY

  YOU BEST SKEDADDLE on over to the mess hall, greenhorn.” The old cowboy reached out to take the reins Chase handed over. “The way them cowboys was eatin’ when I was there, it’s a good chance won’t be nothin’ but bones left by now.”