A Warrior's Promise (6 page)

“Would you know this secret place where the king sends prisoners?” Charles asked.

“I have heard rumors of such a place,” Bryce said, “but there is no proof that it truly exists.”

“Elsa and I discussed that, and the most logical conclusion would be that if such a place exists, then no one has ever escaped it,” Charles said, “except possibly one.”

“Tell me.” Bryce listened as Charles told him about Old John. “It would appear that our next stop is the village Tine.”

It wasn't until they were on the road again, Elsa having sent them off with a goodly amount of food and Bryce having dropped a trinket of solid value in her hand, which she accepted with a joyful smile, that Charles inquired about how this detour would affect Bryce's mission.

“Will you lose time going to the village Tine?” he asked.

“What we learn may just help me,” Bryce admitted. “With all that I have garnered about this spy in the king's court, I've wondered if perhaps the king has discovered his ruse and has had him imprisoned. Elsa had spoken about two other men being tethered together. The spy could be one of them.”

“The king will surely have him tortured to find out who he spies for.” Charles's shoulders slumped. “My father will be tortured as well.”

“How could a conjurer suffering torture serve the king?”

Charles's eyes brightened. “You're right. My da would be no good to the king if injured, though”—his shoulders slumped once again—“when it is discovered that my da cannot conjure, the king will surely make him suffer.”

“We'll have found your da before then,” Bryce assured with a strong pat to the lad's shoulder.

The lad looked up at him. “I am appreciative of your help, and though I do not like being owned, I will serve you well.”

Bryce nodded and stopped himself from telling the lad that he was free, that no man was to be owned. But he worried that if the lad knew he was under no obligation to him, he might just decide somewhere along their journey to attempt to rescue his father on his own. And he wouldn't take the chance of that happening. Besides, the lad and his father needed a home, a permanent one, and with the lad obligated to him, it would force father and son to remain with the clan MacAlpin.

He would see the lad protected, whether he wanted it or not.

Chapter 6

C
harlotte watched Bryce sleep. They could have reached the village Tine before nightfall, but Bryce had preferred they delay arrival so that they would have the day to explore the village and locate Old John and speak with him. And then they could take their leave, putting distance between them and the village. He didn't want to take the chance and linger too long in one place, and Charlotte had to agree with him. Asking too many questions in regard to the king raised suspicion.

So they bedded down a short distance from the village, enjoyed some of the food Elsa had generously shared, and while Charlotte wished to fall asleep as easily as Bryce had done, she hadn't been able to.

Her thoughts would simply not settle down. While she continued to worry over her father, Bryce crept in now and again. She couldn't seem to stop thinking about the Highlander, a brave man though, still, in a sense, tender. Never had she met one like him before. So wasn't it only natural that he intrigued her?

Her da would certainly agree and encourage her to pursue her interest, see what she learned. And she would do that, though it wasn't only the Highlander that intrigued. It was how she was beginning to feel around him.

She almost snorted in disgust with even the mere thought that she could possibly find him attractive. She hadn't even known where the foolish thought had come from or when she had first realized it. But there it was; she found the mighty warrior attractive.

She rolled on her back, refusing to lay eyes on him any longer. That he was a fine-looking man was undeniable, but there was no time for her to be having such thoughts. Another time, another place, perhaps she could justify her interest in him, but not now.

Love waits for no one.

It seemed that every time there was a matter that concerned her, her father's teachings would pop up to guide her. But love and attraction were two different things.

It begins with attraction.

Her father enjoyed repeating the story of the first time he had seen her mother and how her beauty had drawn him like a moth to a flame. His appetite had waned, food of no importance to him, and he had stammered, unable to find the right words when he had first spoken to her.

That certainly didn't apply to Charlotte. She ate whatever food was offered, and she had no trouble speaking or voicing her opinion to Bryce. So she supposed she didn't have to worry about being on the precipice of falling in love.

She turned again, this time away from the fire, staring into the darkness. It had been just her and her da for so long that she could not imagine it any other way, though . . .

She sighed. She would dream now and again of falling in love, and her da so often had encouraged her to find love.

She had once asked him how she should do that.

He had scratched his head, then shaken it. “I do not believe there is a satisfactory answer to that question.”

She sighed again and turned around, her backside toasty and her front needing warmth, a chill having filled the night. She stilled, caught in the glare of Bryce's wide-open eyes.

“Are you going to settle down now and sleep?”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Your whining interrupted my slumber.”

“I was not whining,” she said, though worried that perhaps her sighs did sound more like whines.

“Then what was it?”

“Yawns,” she said, thinking quickly.

Bryce eyed her skeptically. “Could be that your
loud
yawns are keeping us both awake.”

“And what about talking? Doesn't that contribute to not being able to sleep?”

“You let your mouth run before you think. Not a wise choice.”

“Some things are so obvious they need no thought,” she said with a smile.

“Your cocky confidence has already gotten you into an altercation that left you bruised and—”

“Victorious.”

“In pain,” he corrected.

“That's to be expected when one defends oneself or another,” she said, recalling the few altercations she had gotten into over the years, more so in defense of her father than herself.

Bryce went to respond, but Charlotte spoke up first.

“I'm tired, and all your chatter is keeping me awake.” With that, she yanked the wool blanket up over her shoulders and shut her eyes. She waited for a reprimand, but none came though sleep came quickly.

B
ryce had warned her repeatedly before they entered the village that she was to remain by his side. This time she paid heed to his orders. Neither the village nor the villagers were as well kept as the last one they had visited. Most eyed them suspiciously, and none offered a greeting.

Thankfully, there were no signs of soldiers, but how to find Old John when it didn't appear that anyone would be forthcoming with information was another matter.

“Not a friendly lot,” Bryce muttered.

Charlotte recalled the reason Elsa had visited the village. “Elsa had come here to help a woman with a newborn babe.” She thought a moment, then smiled. “Joslyn. If we find her and mention Elsa, she will trust us.”

“We'll need to approach with cau—”

Charlotte turned and hurried over to a woman, one chubby babe in her arm and another clinging to her worn brown tunic. She spoke with haste to the woman and returned to Bryce's side before he could decide whether to follow or not.

“I found her. Follow me.” And again she took off, without waiting for a response.

Bryce caught her by the arm, forcing her to walk at a less hectic pace beside him. “You need to be more cautious in approaching people.”

“It stands to reason that if Elsa knows Joslyn due to a birth, then other women in the village know of her as well. Mentioning Elsa's name directly would alleviate any fear and result in an immediate answer. I know I take chances approaching strangers with questions, but what choice do I have if I want to find my da?”

Bryce shook his head. “One minute you sound like a foolish lad and the next like a wise one.”

Charlotte almost bit her tongue for failing to keep to the lad's sardonic nature, but she quickly recovered. “Jealous of my wisdom are you?”

Bryce nodded. “There's the foolish one.”

There was no more time to spar, the cottage just in front of them.

“I'll see to this,” Bryce said, and gently shoved her behind him.

The door opened slowly, and a pretty young woman's head appeared from around it. Joslyn's cautious expression changed as soon as Bryce mentioned Elsa, and they were invited inside. The cottage was sparse though neat and surprisingly clean. A babe slept contentedly in a cradle a safe distance from the hearth. They accepted the hot brew the young woman offered them though graciously declined slices of fresh bread since it appeared it might be the woman's only food.

It didn't take long to learn the general whereabouts of Old John though it came with a warning.

“He talks crazy sometimes and doesn't trust many, so do be careful.”

Charlotte wondered what Bryce whispered to the young woman as he pressed something into her hand. She supposed he cautioned her on letting anyone know whatever it was he had given her, but Joslyn appeared far too happy for a warning.

They left the village, following the directions Joslyn had provided, a chore for sure since there were no exact instructions to follow to Old John's secluded lodgings. It was more of a general area she had described.

“You'll do as I say when we find Old John's place,” Bryce said.

“Don't I always?” Charlotte asked with a grin.

“You do keep me entertained,” Bryce said with a laugh.

They found Old John's place after carefully scrutinizing the area. It was nothing more than a dilapidated shack with far too much debris surrounding it. Then it dawned on her.

“He's built a moat of sorts, a barrier to keep people out,” she said.

“He's done a good job. There doesn't even appear to be an entrance.”

“Shall we call out and see if he answers?”

“Someone who goes to this extreme to keep people out would already know we're here,” Bryce said.

“What do you want from me?” the rough voice asked.

Charlotte jumped and cast anxious glances around her but saw no one.

Bryce remained as he was, not the least bit disturbed by the sudden, phantom voice, and answered, “A bit of your time in exchange for a trinket or two?”

“I need no trinkets.”

Charlotte couldn't determine Old John's location. It sounded as if he were beside her and at the same time at a distance.

“Your help then,” Bryce asked, “in exchange for mine?”

“How can you help me?” Old John inquired, strangely enough sounding hopeful.

“I can offer you a safe haven,” Bryce said.

Old John appeared then, emerging from amongst the trees. He was as Elsa had described, stooped and battered by age and battle. But Charlotte noted something she doubted that many saw, his brown eyes, though framed by wrinkles, were sharp and much too aware for one supposedly crazy. His long, wild gray hair added to his air of madness as did his worn and layered clothing. For some reason though, Charlotte did not think this man as crazy as he led others to believe.

“What safety can you offer me when the king's soldiers are everywhere?”

“The safety of the MacAlpin clan,” Bryce said proudly.

Charlotte caught the sudden broadening of Old John's shoulders though he remained stooped over some.

“The soldiers say the MacAlpins are fools; that there is no true king that will take the throne from King Kenneth. If there was, he would have made himself known by now,” Old John said, shaking his head. “Why doesn't he make himself known if he isn't a myth? His people need him. They need to know someone fights for them.”

“He will step forward when the time is right,” Charlotte said. “If you know the myth, then you know it says ‘when he meets death on his own, that is when he will ascend the throne.' No doubt meeting death means that he will face King Kenneth, and they will fight to the death. He will be victorious, and Scotland will have her true king.”

“But King Kenneth does not fight fair, this I have seen with my own eyes,” Old John said. “He will find a way to defeat the true king.”

“Never,” Charlotte said. “Evil and ignorance cannot conquer goodness and wisdom. The true king is good and wise and strong and courageous. He will defeat King Kenneth and ascend the throne, just as predicted.”

“You are so sure,” Old John said. “Have you met the true king?”

Charlotte shook her head. “No, but my father believes that his path crossed with his once many years ago. He says the Highlander was a man of keen virtue, kindness, understanding, generous and more courageous than he had ever known.”

“And you, Highlander,” Old John said, looking to Bryce, “you fight for a man you have never met?”

“If I answer that, it could prove not only dangerous for us all but for the true king himself.”

Old John considered his words, then asked, “What do you wish to know?”

Bryce nodded to Charlotte, and she said, “My father has been taken prisoner by the king's soldiers, and we have learned that he may have been taken to a secret prison. A place the king saves for
special
prisoners.”

“Forget him. He is lost to you now. There is nothing you can do.”

“I will not abandon my da. I will find him and free him.”

Old John shook his head. “No one escapes hell.”

“You did,” Charlotte snapped.

“And I'll not go back there.”

“I don't need you to go back. I just need to know where it is,” Charlotte said.

Old John suddenly sprang up, stooped no more, making him only a few inches shorter than Bryce. His eyes went wide, and he appeared to sniff the air.

“Others approach, soldiers by the smell of them.” He turned wild eyes on Bryce. “They followed you.”

He bolted, launching himself over the debris that protected his shack, grabbed a sack from somewhere in the midst of the mess, and took off.

Charlotte and Bryce barely had time to do the same, Old John's actions having been so sudden and fast.

Charlotte ran as fast as her slim legs would carry her, Bryce staying close on her heels. They were not, however, fast enough to keep up with Old John. And try as she might, Charlotte could not match his frantic pace. That was when she realized that Old John was not as old as he led everyone to believe.

She wanted to cry out to him to stop. He held the key to finding her father, and he was slipping away from her. Though she didn't want to, she clamped her mouth shut tightly. If she yelled out to him, she would alert the soldiers to their whereabouts.

It wasn't long before Old John disappeared from view, and though she and Bryce kept running, they never caught up with him. They stopped what seemed like hours later, though doubtfully so, fatigued and out of breath.

“We'll find him,” Bryce said after regaining his breath. “I think he knows much more than he shared.”

“It may be too late by then.”

“Your father is a wise man. He will find a way to survive until you come for him.”

She had to believe that, she had to, or else she would go mad with worry.

Charlotte was about to ask what step they took next when she caught sight of a soldier running toward them, sword drawn. Drawing bow and arrow, she ran at Bryce and, with a hard shove with her shoulder to his gut, knocked him out of the way.