Warrior Reborn (29 page)

Then the little bastard withdrew the weapon and, with a madman’s scream, plunged it down again.

Like a horse under attack by a bloodsucking fly, Hall flung himself backward, smashing his attacker into the wall behind him, taking them both down in a heap.

The hilt of the knife protruded from Hall’s shoulder, twisted at an ugly angle. It was higher than the first wound, making it difficult to reach his sword when Artur came at him a third time with his sword drawn.

“I guess we’ll see whose arse ends up on the pointy end of a sword now, won’t we?” Artur sneered, slowly moving in for the kill.

Hall pushed himself up the side of the wall to stand, waiting, watching the other man’s eyes. When Artur circled his wrist, taunting with the motion of his blade, Hall threw himself forward, knocking aside the smaller man’s blade as he jerked the protective token from around his neck with his left hand. He brought it slamming down, feetfirst, into Artur’s throat as they fell back.

It took a moment for the man to stop his twitching. A moment that Hall used to catch his breath and gather his strength before pushing up to stand again.

Leaning heavily against the wall, he followed the narrow, curving stairs up to the little guardroom and into the laird’s private chamber.

There he found the hiding place under the mantel already open and the box he sought sitting out on the table.

At least he presumed it was the same box, though the jewels Bridget had claimed adorned the lid were gone. Deep scratches marred the wood, as if someone had dug the jewels out of their resting place.

But the loss of the jewels wasn’t the worst of it.

The box was empty.

F
URY FILLED
C
HASE
so completely, nothing remained but the bright, blistering need to cut Torquil into a million tiny pieces.

He launched himself across the room, but his prey was faster. Torquil danced away, Christiana held in front of him like a shield. A shield whose head lolled to the side while coughs wracked her body.

“You came for this?” Torquil taunted, dragging her head back by a handful of hair, revealing a swollen red welt on the side of her face.

“No,” Chase answered, his vision tunneling on the man in front of him. “I came for you.”

Torquil laughed and continued to move away, placing the table between the two of them. Chase
kept his back to the door, the only means of escape from the tower.

A
pop
and
poof
sounded to his left as the fire leapt to the bags of herbs piled there. Flames shot into the air, reaching the edges of the tapestries covering the walls—but Chase’s quarry was more important.

“Think fast, warrior,” Torquil shouted, shoving Christiana toward the fire as he lunged for the opening to the stairs leading up to the top of the tower.

Chase dove to grab Christiana, reaching her as the flames licked up the sleeve of her gown. She scrabbled away from him, breathlessly pleading for him to stop, to wait.

There was no time to stop and wait. The whole damn place would be a blazing fire pit in a matter of minutes. He pulled her close and rolled over her to smother the flames eating away at her gown. Then he scooped her up in his arms and ran for the door and fresh air. Let that evil bastard Torquil burn.

“W
HERE, WHERE, WHERE
are you?” Torquil demanded, his back against the door of Christiana’s tower bed-chamber.

That the beast should desert him now was simply wrong.

“I would have given you free rein,” he railed, rushing to the window to gasp in great gulps of fresh air. “I would have allowed you to destroy them both, as you did the minstrel.”

Perhaps that was why the beast slumbered. His thirst for blood already had been well slaked today.

Below his feet, smoke slithered up between the floorboards.

If ever he had needed the Magic to work for him, now was that time. If ever he had needed to marshal every scrap of his concentration, now was that time.

His gaze landed on the clay pot at the end of the mantel. The clay pot holding the elixir that was the means to his sister’s Visions.

Perhaps it would work for him as well.

He lifted it from the mantel and tossed the stopper to floor. Tilting back his head, he drained the contents of the bottle and threw it toward the fireplace.

Now was the time.

C
HAOS HAD ERUPTED
in the courtyard, with people scrambling everywhere to move their possessions as far from the burning tower as possible. The entire company of soldiers busily raced from the well to their barracks, wetting down what they could to prevent the fire’s spread.

Chase came to a halt in the middle of that bedlam and allowed Christiana’s feet to touch the ground. He held her close as she coughed the smoke from her lungs, murmuring reassurances, but never once taking his eyes from the doorway they’d come out.

Whether her bastard brother met his end on Chase’s sword or burned alive, Chase didn’t care. All that mattered was that his life ended this day.

He waited, watching, until flames licked up along the wooden supports of the tower’s outer walls and shot from the highest window at the top. Waited and watched as the roof gave way and crashed in. Waited and watched, until he was sure nothing and no one could have survived the inferno.

“I see you found your lady in time.”

Halldor stood calmly at his side, blood soaking the right side of his shirt.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“Artur and I resolved our feud.” He shrugged, wincing at the motion. “While it’s on my mind, little brother, I’d thank you again for the amulet of protection you gifted me. Fortuitous, indeed.”

Christiana lifted a hand toward Hall, then let it drop to her side. “I’ve nothing left to help with the healing. All my herbs are gone, but perhaps we can locate some whisky in the kitchens to clean the wound before you seek yer rest.”

“There will be no rest for us here, my lady. We must leave this place before we’re confronted by Torquil.”

Chase shook his head. “No worries there, big brother. Torquil’s dead. He isn’t going to bother us again.”

Hall’s look of skepticism wasn’t the expression Chase had expected.

“How did he meet his demise, that you can be so sure of his death?”

“The bastard is toast. Literally.” Chase inclined
his head toward the still-smoldering ruin. “He was in there with no way to escape but the front door. And I made sure nobody came out the front door.”

“He is not dead. He will be back, and it would be wise for us to be long gone before he returns.” Hall held up a hand, continuing with his explanation. “I know what you think, Chase Noble, but in this you are wrong. Fire cannot kill him. Only the Sword of the Ancients has the power to end his life now.”

“My father spoke of that weapon.” Christiana looked hopefully from one of them to the other. “I believe from the things he said, it may be here at Tordenet.”

“It was here, my lady, of that I have no doubt. But it is here no longer, and until we have it in our possession, we cannot hope to defeat Torquil and the beast that lives within him.”

“Wait. What beast? What are you talking about?” Chase felt as if he’d slipped from the History Channel to Sci-Fi Central. “Are you trying to say that Torquil is possessed?”

“Call it what you will. But whatever you call it, we should be putting distance between us and this place while you do.”

“Okay. Fine.” It was pretty damn clear to Chase that the Faeries had meant him to be with Christiana, and wherever she was, that was where he needed to be. “Let’s find some horses and figure out where to go.”

“South to Castle MacGahan, to carry warning to
Malcolm and Patrick. Ella!” Christiana called out to a servant girl running past them. “Find Rauf. Send him here to me.”

The girl’s eyes were enormous saucers of fright, but she nodded her agreement before running away.

“Castle MacGahan it is,” Hall agreed.

T
hirty-eight

A
SMALL, COLD HAND
covered his, drawing Chase’s attention from the distance into which he stared.

“Rauf assures me Castle MacGahan lies just over the next rise.” Christiana peered out from the depths of her cloak, her nose red from the cold.

Chase captured her hand in his, rubbing it to restore some warmth. A cold front had hit overnight, bringing temperatures too low for traveling safely outside as they did.

“He’d better be right, or we’ll need to stop and build a fire before you turn into an ice cube.”

“Pfft,” she scoffed. “I’m stronger than you credit me.” Her chattering teeth belied the confidence of her assertion.

“It’s there,” Rauf called out, standing in his stirrups to point into the distance. “There upon that hill, do you see?”

“I do,” Chase answered, relieved that their journey’s end was at last in sight.

Rauf had been their saving grace in their preparations
for a hasty exit from Tordenet. He’d gathered food, found a horse for Christiana, and, thankfully, had been to Castle MacGahan before, so that at least one of them knew the way.

He was also totally devoted to Christiana, which had quickly won Chase over to his side, even if he did look like a classic movie bad guy.

“I for one shall be glad of a fire and a hot meal.” Hall drew his horse alongside Chase.

Chase nodded. Not to mention the relief of being able to close his eyes at night without worry that some mythological wolf-monster was about to attack them.

Rauf spurred his mount, riding on ahead of them to alert the castle to their arrival. By the time they reached the open gates, a small cluster of people had gathered in front of the main keep.

Family, waiting to welcome a loved one back into the fold. Chase had seen this sort of gathering too many times not to recognize that. The excited, hopeful expressions these people wore were no different than any he’d seen as he’d stepped off an airplane and back onto home soil.

And just like all those times, the familiar odd-man-out feeling gripped him, urging him to hang back out of the way while those who belonged gathered together.

“Welcome home, little sister.” The dark-haired man at the center of the group held up his arms to assist Christiana when she dismounted. “You canna
imagine how often I’ve pictured this moment in my thoughts.”

“As I have, Malcolm,” Christiana agreed, her feet finally touching the ground.

As with other family reunions he had witnessed, Chase felt the familiar twinge of envy nipping at his heart as he watched Christiana wrap her arms joyously around the stranger’s neck.

“And these men who accompany you, we’ve them to thank for your liberation, have we no?” Malcolm smiled broadly, opening his arms wide. “Introduce us to yer champions that we might welcome them into our home, as well.”

“Halldor O’Donar, a fine champion indeed, and my friend.” Christiana beamed up at the man. “These are my brothers, Malcolm and Patrick, and Malcolm’s brave and beautiful lady, Danielle, and, this is my friend Elesyria.”

“Syrie,” the little redhead and Patrick corrected at the same time.

“Syrie,” Christiana repeated with a lift of her brows before turning toward Chase. “And this is Chase Noble.”

She held out her hand to him and he dismounted to stand at her side. He had no choice. He couldn’t resist the sparkle in her eyes when she smiled at him that way.

“I must tell you all, Chase is far more than champion to me.” She entwined her fingers with his. “He is the love of my heart.”

She gazed up at him and his heart was full. He had no reason to envy anyone. All he needed stood before him, holding his hand.

“As you are mine,” he answered quietly.

“In that case”—Malcolm stepped closer, slapping a hand to his back—“looks to me as though we’ll soon be welcoming a new brother into the family.”

“If he kens what’s good for him,” Patrick added from his spot near the stairs.

Chase knew what was good for him. He had her hand tightly clasped within his own right now.

“Enough of this lollygagging around out in the cold.” Malcolm’s wife tightened her cloak around her and started up the stairs. “Let’s get you all inside and warmed up, and then you can tell us all about what’s happened that allowed you to come home to us.”

“And what is yet to come,” Hall added as he passed by.

True. Chase pulled Christiana close under the shelter of his arm and started up the stairs behind Hall. Though they’d reached their destination, their journey was far from over.

They followed their hosts into the main level and up a second set of stairs, entering a room that looked more like a living room from his own time than one that belonged here.

Three long cushion-covered benches with backs faced one another in front of a huge fireplace, with a low round table between them.

“Make yerselves comfortable on a so-fa.” Malcolm pronounced the word as if it were some foreign object.

From the looks passing between Christiana and Hall, Chase could only surmise it was.

Minutes later, Danielle swept into the room accompanied by a servant, who handed Chase a mug of what turned out to be hot apple cider, just before offering him a tray filled with . . .

“Cookies?” Chase swiveled his head from the tray in front of him to Malcolm’s wife.

“Yes, they are,” she confirmed. “My very own recipe. And considering all the ingredients I didn’t have to work with, I think they turned out pretty great.”

“She comes from your time,” Syrie offered in a low voice as she sat down next to him. “I am quite relieved to see you here at last. You certainly took your time.”

“Little thanks to you.” Patrick leaned past her to pick up one of the mugs from the center table.

If this was the woman Christiana had told him about, his presence here was almost
entirely
thanks to her. “You’re the Elf, right?”

Christiana’s elbow to Chase’s ribs coincided perfectly with Patrick choking on his drink.

“Faerie,” Syrie corrected, even as she pounded her hand on Patrick’s back. “Lift your arms and lean over. You’ll catch your breath. Not that you deserve to.”