A Warrior's Promise (7 page)

Chapter 7

B
ryce couldn't believe his eyes. The lad not only felled the soldier charging at them, but drew another arrow with speed and precision and had it ready for the next soldier who appeared. He felled that one and was prepared for another before Bryce even drew his sword.

“We go now,” Bryce ordered. “There's no telling how many follow.”

The lad obeyed without question though he kept his bow tight in hand as they rushed through the forest.

After hours of endless running, they finally stopped and found safe shelter behind a cropping of rocks well concealed by a massive growth of bushes.

Silence settled over them, along with gray skies. Bryce watched the lad rub his arms rigorously and curl his knees up to his chest to keep warm. He knew why the lad shivered. It was likely the first time he had ever killed anyone.

“It isn't easy to take a life,” Bryce said.

The lad simply stared at him, his eyes wide, his face pale, and his thin body shivering.

“When in the throes of battle or defending oneself, there is no thought to taking a life, it's an instinctive reaction. A warrior does what he must do, to not only protect those who cannot protect themselves but to survive.”

The lad continued to stare.

“You not only reacted instinctively, but bravely,” Bryce said. “And while I want to reprimand you for foolishly placing yourself in harm's way when you could have simply warned me of the soldier's presence, I cannot. Your quick reaction saved us both, and that is a sure sign of a true warrior.”

The lad barely gave a nod and continued to shiver. Bryce knew the lad's reaction was part of a rite of passage for all young warriors. That didn't make it any less difficult for the lad, or for him to see the lad suffer. He might be thin and frail for one his age, but he was brave. He had wisely used his shoulder to ram Bryce out of the way, by no means disabling him, but getting him out of the path of danger and clearing the way to attack.

“You did well, Charles. I'm proud of you.”

The lad nodded a bit more strongly this time and, to Bryce's relief, spoke. “Do you think more soldiers follow?”

“I'm not certain, but I was thinking that perhaps they were the only two and that they weren't interested in us,” Bryce said, glad to see color slowly returning to the lad's face.

“You think they were looking for Old John?”

“I think the king doesn't want anyone to know where his secret prison is, and since Old John has the information, the king doesn't want him sharing it.”

“You may be right. Old John had said that the soldiers followed us, but he never said they were looking for us.” Charles shook his head. “You think the soldiers hoped we would find him when they couldn't?”

“It's possible though it seems unlikely that Joslyn would be the only one who knew the approximate whereabouts of Old John. Certainly the soldiers could have persuaded someone to be forthcoming with the information.”

“Something is not right,” Charles said.

“No it's not,” Bryce agreed, worried that perhaps someone had learned about his mission and was actually tracking him. He had placed the lad in enough danger already though he had proven an asset. And the trouble they had confronted so far certainly was helping the lad mature as a warrior.

Charles hung his head, and Bryce knew why.

“We'll find your da, lad,” he said confidently.

Charles raised his head, and Bryce was surprised to see that his eyes shone with unshed tears, though not a one fell.

“To find my da, we must find Old John, and seeing how the man sprinted faster than we did, I'd say that he isn't as old and feeble as he wants people to believe. Old John harbors more secrets than just the location of the king's secret prison.”

“I was thinking the same myself,” Bryce agreed, once again impressed by the lad's awareness and intelligence. It was an odd quality in one so young, and with time, his wisdom would grow even more, making him a distinct asset to the true king.

Hopefully, maturity would help him curtail his quick tongue though Bryce was beginning to think it was part of the lad's nature. And he had to admire him, for it took courage to speak up, especially during these troubling times.

“However are we going to find Old John now?” Charles asked. “He'll no doubt bury himself somewhere so remote that no one will find him. And, not knowing if other soldiers follow, we can't take a chance of going back and trying to pick up his tracks.”

“Right you are, but there are other contacts I am to meet who could possibly turn out to be helpful in finding your father.”

“How?”

“The person I search for could very well be in the prison where your father is being held. Perhaps fate brought us together for that very reason.”

“Do you believe in fate?” Charles asked.

“Every man has a destiny, and fate connects those who help to fulfill it.”

“So we were meant to meet?”

“It would seem so”—Bryce grinned—“though I have no idea what fate was thinking when she threw you in my path.”

“Attempting to guess fate's wisdom?” Charles asked, producing a wide grin of his own.

“I shouldn't—”

“But you cannot help it, can you?”

“No, I cannot,” Bryce said, his smile remaining strong. “If it's help I need, why send me a skinny lad who doesn't know when to hold his tongue or obey orders?”

“And why would fate send me a big Highlander warrior slow in discovering information.”

Bryce glared at the lad. “You're right. Fate had to have been deliriously insane landing you between my legs.”

“Not a pretty sight for fate to show me.” Charles smirked.

“The lassies don't complain.”

“Not a one?”

“Not one,” Bryce assured him. “Size and prowess speak for themselves.”

“Bragging are you?”

“Stating the truth,” Bryce said. “Don't worry; your time will come.”

“I'm in no hurry.”

Bryce looked at him strangely. “I've never known a young lad who wasn't eager to bed a lassie.”

“I'm too busy, too worried about my da to think about anything else,” Charles said, annoyed.

Bryce rested his hand on the lad's shoulder. “There is no shame in having a need for a woman even when troubles haunt.”

“Are you in need of a woman now?” Charles boldly asked.

Bryce laughed. “A man is in need of a woman every day, lad. It's the way of things.”

“So that's what your bit of wisdom meant, enjoy a woman but keep your heart from her?”

“That's right. Love and need are two entirely different things.”

“How so?”

Bryce shook his head. “You do ask a lot of questions.”

“It's the only way to learn.”

“Your da taught you that?”

Charles nodded.

“He never taught you about the differences between love and need?”

“It's always good to get another opinion.”

Bryce laughed. “Didn't care for your father's?”

Charles shook his head. “On the contrary, I haven't come close to finding any better than what he has taught me.”

“Then it's you who should be teaching me.”

“Anytime.”

Bryce continued laughing. “You do entertain me, Charles.”

“And I don't even try.”

They were soon on their way again, Bryce insisting that they put more distance between them and the soldiers, and Charles agreed. It was several hours later, the darkening skies following them though not a drop of rain falling, that they finally stopped.

An old refuge that looked to have once housed animals was where they decided to settle for the night. It provided some shelter if it should rain, which no doubt it would, thunder having been heard in the distance.

A heavy chill claimed the land, along with the night, and Bryce and Charles were glad for the campfire they huddled around while they ate. Conversation was sporadic; both, it seemed, were lost in their thoughts. It wasn't until they settled down for the night that conversation took hold.

“I'm curious,” Bryce said. “What did your father teach you about love?”

Charles didn't hesitate. “That it is a precious gift that should always be cherished. And what of you? How do you feel about love?”

“I'm not quite sure. I've been so busy with my missions that I have had no time to consider love. I meet a woman and enjoy her as she does me, and I take my leave. It is the best I can give at the moment. I have no time to worry over another's safety when I am fighting to bring the true king to the throne, a man who will be responsible for the safety and well-being of a country. It would be selfish of me to fall in love now. It would not be fair to the woman or to the king I fight for.”

“What if love should find you?”

“I would have to walk away from it,” Bryce said. “I have given my word and made a commitment.”

“The true king is lucky to have such a loyal warrior.”

Bryce ignored the compliment. He was never comfortable with them. He was a Highlander warrior raised on honor and duty, and that would never change.

“We need to find you a woman, Charles,” Bryce said. “It's time you know what it feels like to bury yourself deep inside one.”

“Does it feel different bedding someone you love?”

“A good reason to bed a few women so you will know for yourself whether it is love or not,” Bryce said.

“So you would recognize love because you've bedded so many women?”

Bryce laughed. “I recognize what I want in a wife.”

“I forgot. You want a wife who
heeds your word
.”

Bryce gave a sharp nod. “It makes for an easier marriage.”

“Doesn't love make for an easier marriage?”

“You talk as if you've already been struck by love,” Bryce teased.

“I have not,” Charles snapped.

Bryce grinned. “You protest too vehemently. I think there is someone you favor, but perhaps you don't wish to admit it, not even to yourself.”

“There is no one,” Charles insisted.

Bryce stretched out on his back, folding his arms beneath his head. “Is she pretty? Does she have big bosoms?” He laughed. “Big bosoms are so much fun, as are full, round hips you can latch onto, two good qualities in a woman.”

“Enough,” Charles snapped. “I favor no one.”

Bryce yawned loudly. “We'll get you bedded so that when you return to your special lass, you'll know if it's love.”

“There is no special lass,” Charles said through gritted teeth, and turned his back on Bryce.

Bryce's trickling laughter soon turned to a soft snore.

C
harlotte wanted to punch Bryce, she was so angry. There was absolutely no one special. Of course, she thought he was attractive, but she wasn't the only woman who thought that. She had seen the way women gazed his way when they had entered the villages. She was no different; she was attracted to his fine features and nothing more.

Besides, he made it quite clear what he would look for in a woman when the time was right. She almost snorted with laughter.

When the time was right.

Love would not wait for him; it would punch him in the gut when it was ready, missions or no missions.

She could just picture the woman who would suit his needs, and she certainly didn't fit his requirements. Her bosoms were a mere handful, and she had only a mere curve to her hips. And obedient? This time she snorted with laughter.

It didn't wake him; he was too busy snoring to hear it.

She could never be obedient. Her father had raised her to think freely, and with that knowledge came more freedom, more curiosity, more need to live as she chose.

No laughter sprang from her lips this time though tears misted her eyes. She would never find a man who could accept her unconventional nature. And why did she even bother to concern herself with it now.

Like Bryce, she had a mission, and she would let nothing stop her. And like Bryce, she would not let love get in the way.

She forced her eyes closed and chased her nonsensical thoughts, but try as she might, sleep eluded her.

She made sure not to sigh though her chest weighed heavy with frustration. She didn't want to chance waking Bryce as she had done once before. She didn't need him staring at her, didn't need to be staring at him, didn't need reminding that he was attractive and that she was attracted to him.

Instead, she constantly reminded herself that she was not the kind of woman he would find appealing. And it was good that she was disguised as a lad and would remain so indefinitely around him.

She would not let him know, not now, and hopefully not ever, that she was a woman.

If she did, she feared he would simply laugh at her.

Chapter 8

C
harlotte was relieved that the night rain gave way to clear skies. She kept pace with Bryce, eager to once again be on their way. When she had woken this morning, it was to gaze upon a stretching Bryce standing tall over her.

He was a size, so thick and hard with muscles and a face she not only found handsome but telling as well. Having been taught to be observant, she was beginning to realize that Bryce revealed many things with his changing expressions.

When he questioned something, his brow crinkled, when he worried, his soft blue eyes turned a tad darker, when he defended, his features turned menacing, and when he smiled and laughed, he was much too appealing.

She shook her head and forced her thoughts in another direction. Bryce had been right when he had told her that her da would no doubt leave signs that
only
she would recognize. She had to concentrate on what those signs might be. She could already be missing them.

They couldn't be the obvious, a broken tree branch, a scrap of his garment, or stones in a pattern. No, her father would not choose the obvious for fear of being discovered. He would use something only she would recognize and understand. But what?

She tried to clear her head, but worry over her father's plight wouldn't allow it, and she grew frustrated.

“What's wrong?” Bryce asked as he dropped back a few steps to walk alongside her.

“Nothing,” she said though worried that she was moaning or groaning with annoyance and hadn't realized it. It was something she had to remember not to do.

“You're mumbling to yourself.”

She had forgotten about that trait. It only surfaced when she was very upset, and she hadn't been visited by it in years. She had to be careful. Not realizing she was doing it, she could very well mumble something she didn't want him to hear.

“Your da again?”

“Me,” she said with a thump to her chest. “I'm trying to think what my da would do to leave a trail for me to follow.”

“Don't worry. It will come to you,” Bryce assured. “And shortly, I will need you alert to our surroundings.”

“We're close to our destination?”

Bryce nodded. “It's a place where trading is done but not the fair kind. The warriors there owe no allegiance to clan or country. They sell information to you or on you and would just as quickly slice your throat as smile at you. The women among them are either slaves or whores, so keep your distance, stay close to me and”—he stopped and glared at her—“keep your mouth shut.”

She nodded, fear rippling over her and leaving her skin damp. This was no place for her true gender to be discovered.

Bryce started walking, Charlotte remaining alongside him.

“You'll need to dirty up your face. It's too pretty for a place like this, and they might mistake you for a lassie.”

His words shocked her. He thought her face pretty? Her elated feeling soon burst, knowing that it had nothing to do with her being a woman, and she had to respond as a lad, or as Charles would.

“Pretty? And here I thought I was handsome.”

Bryce smiled. “There are plenty of women who like pretty rather than handsome. Besides, being distinctly different means we'll never have to compete over a woman.”

“Lucky for you, being I'd emerge the victor all the time.”

Bryce shook his head. “Don't tempt me to prove you wrong, and enough of useless boasting from an inexperienced lad.”

“Another thing the lassies might find appealing.”

“I have to agree,” Bryce said though not begrudgingly. “Some women love to initiate the young lads.”

“So they would be wanting me instead of you, an old, overused lover.”

“A handsome, seasoned lover,” Bryce corrected with a smug grin, “which
many
women desire.”

Charles scratched his head. “I don't know about that. Why would a young lassie want an old, overused lover?” She stretched her arms out and grinned. “When she can have a lad, pure, innocent, untouched, and belonging to her and her alone.”

“You have a lot to learn.”

“Maybe I've already learned, and you're the one needing lessons.”

Bryce shook his head yet again. “Keeping your mouth shut starts now.”

Charlotte laughed and nodded.

C
harlotte knew that beyond the line of trees must lie their destination, Bryce's expression having turned hard and more menacing than she had ever seen it.

“Behind me,” he ordered sternly. “And stay there.”

She obeyed, and when they cleared the trees, she was relieved that his body shielded her. The small village was not unlike any other and surprisingly better kept than most, but it was the warriors themselves who gave one pause. Every one of them bore scars of heavy battle. And they were large, many almost equal to Bryce in size and width.

The women she did see, only two, kept their heads down and eyes averted.

Bryce stopped in front of an older man, his long hair gray and his many facial scars faded by the years.

“I look for Culth,” Bryce said. “I have business with him.”

A large man stepped out of the cottage, directly behind the old warrior, adjusting the leather strap that ran across his massive chest. A thick scar cut a path from his forehead down over his right eye to end at his jaw. His hair was black as night and his stance guarded. He was followed by one very large, black dog, with one scarred, floppy ear. He walked close to Culth, but to Charlotte it looked more from fear than respect for his master.

“I'm Culth.”

The dog moved away from him to sniff toward Bryce and around him.

“I was told you are the one to see for information.”

“For a price,” Culth said, his eyes intent on the dog. “What are you hiding?”

“I hide nothing,” Bryce said adamantly.

“Then let's have a look.” Culth stepped around Bryce.

Bryce was quick to stretch his arm out protectively in front of Charlotte, and she prayed he'd keep it there. The warrior Culth frightened the wits out of her though not the dog, though he was massive. He looked sad to her, and her heart went out to him for what he must suffer at his master's hand.

“What do you want to know?” Culth asked.

His dark eyes followed along every part of her, lingering in intimate places and making her skin crawl. It was as if he could see beneath her garments and knew her secret. And strangely enough, the dog sensed his sinister thoughts, planting himself in front of Charlotte like a shield.

“Odin!” Culth snapped angrily, and the big dog crawled over to him. He gave him a kick and ordered him to stay.

“I have heard of a secret prison,” Bryce said, moving to take the place of Odin and shield Charlotte. “And, with this land being yours, you would know if it is located around these parts.”

“What's it worth to you?”

“What do you want?”

“The lassie,” Culth said with a lift of his chin toward Charlotte.

“He's a lad,” Bryce corrected.

Culth chortled, and so did the old warrior.

Charlotte nearly choked with fear. How did he know?

“That's my price,” Culth said.

“Then I'll not be doing business with you,” Bryce said, and slowly began to back away, his arm remaining protectively in front of Charlotte.

“I'll take that fine sword instead,” Culth said.

“I'll not barter my sword.”

“Then what will you barter?” Culth asked.

“Information,” Bryce offered.

Culth laughed. “And what can you tell me that I don't already know?”

“Soldiers will dispense with you and your village soon enough, unless, of course, you wish to fight for King Kenneth.”

Culth snorted. “If the king pays us, we fight.”

“The king's wealth is gone.”

It was obvious by the sudden widening of Culth's eyes that he hadn't been aware of that bit of news.

“How do you know this?” Culth asked.

“It's the information that's important, not where I obtained it. So if you were expecting payment from the king, it won't be forthcoming.”

Culth nodded. “For that information, I will tell you that I too have heard of this secret prison, but if it does exist, it is not here on my land.”

Disappointment settled in the pit of Charlotte's stomach, or perhaps it was fear. Their bargaining was done. Would the mercenary leader let them leave unscathed?

“We'll be going now,” Bryce said.

“Be careful,
friend,
” Culth said. “The woods hold much danger.”

Charlotte's breathing was labored not from rushing, Bryce making certain they did not run but walked out of the village, but from the fear that choked like a hand at her throat.

“We need to put distance between us and this place,” Bryce said once the woods swallowed them.

“He'll come after us?” Charlotte asked, though knew it wasn't them Culth was coming for; he was coming for her.

“Culth all but made it clear when he alluded to the danger in the woods.” Bryce glanced around as if expecting Culth's men to already be surrounding them. He pointed in a direction. “Run and run fast.”

They took off, Bryce remaining behind Charlotte and she running faster than she ever thought she possibly could. She worried that Culth would send too many of his men to defend against. And Bryce would certainly go down fighting, as would she, though no doubt Culth had ordered her to be taken alive.

Her anger built, for she knew if she did not survive to rescue her father, he would suffer and perish. But could she survive being taken captive by Culth, and, worse, could she survive knowing that Bryce had died protecting her?

Just the thought sent a chill through her and pained her heart. So strange since she barely knew the man, and yet there was something about him she favored. They had to survive not only to rescue her da but for her to discover what it was she was beginning to feel for the mighty Highlander warrior.

The attack came within a short time of their departure. Men rained down from the trees and rushed out from behind bushes. How they had gotten ahead of Bryce and her she didn't know, but she did react.

Her arrows were drawn in quick succession, felling three men, and still more came. Soon she would be without arrows though she had the dirk in her boot. But was she any match for the size of these mercenaries?

Bryce fought like a madman, keeping the men at a great enough distance for her to take aim and shoot. But he was one against many. It wasn't long before her cache was empty, and as soon as it was, she reached for her dirk.

With a solid prayer on her lips, she rushed forward with a battle roar.

She had always been limber rolling, tumbling, climbing like the squirrels that scampered about, her da used to say. And she used that skill now to avoid and attack her opponents. Time seemed to stand still. She didn't know how long she fought, nor was she aware of the blood that covered her. She simply knew that she must survive, must get to her da, and must not let Bryce die because of her.

Her anger fueled her strength and determination, and when no more men came at her, she turned, for a moment, thinking they had won, and saw Bryce battling three men. She ran and launched herself at them.

She landed with a solid thud on one's back, her dirk going deep, and he sunk like deadweight to the ground. She jumped up, and as she did, a fist connected with her face and sent her reeling backward.

The last thing she saw and heard before blackness claimed her was a bloodcurdling yell from Bryce as he swung his sword at the two remaining men.

B
ryce ran to Charles; blood covered him everywhere, and for a moment, he froze, fearing the lad dead. When he caught the rise and fall of his chest, Bryce scooped him up in his arms, and while it would have been easier to run with the lad flung over his shoulder, he couldn't take the chance. If his chest was injured, it would only worsen it.

So he ran, cuddling the lad against him, praying that the blood that covered him was not his. He needed to get as far away from Culth's land as possible. It would take time for the mercenary to discover that his men had failed, giving Bryce time to put good distance between them.

Bryce kept a quick pace, for how long he couldn't say, though when he realized that dusk was not far off, he knew he had been traveling for hours. There was a rise up ahead that Bryce decided would be wise for him to climb, then settle for the night on the other side.

If Culth did send more men, though he doubted he would, they would not attempt the hill at night.

Dusk was near to falling when he finally found a spot near the bank of a stream to camp for the night. He gently laid Charles on the ground, worried that he had yet to wake from that vicious blow he had taken to his jaw and it looked like his cheek as well since the bruise was spreading up along it.

He wanted to hurry and examine the lad to see how bad his injures were, but he knew he needed to get a campfire going first. He got one going soon enough, then wasted no time in ripping a strip of cloth from the sack of food and soaking and rinsing it in the stream before he once again scooped the lad up in his arms.

Bryce gently wiped away the blood and grime on the lad's face, the only color to it being the bruises, the fresh one darkening by the minute.

Bryce understood why Culth had mistaken the lad for a lassie. Charles was pretty, much too pretty for a lad. And being small and thin didn't help him any.

Once done with his face, Bryce decided it would be easier to simply slice the lad's tunic and shirt down the front to further examine him for wounds. He could always fashion a plaid around the lad with the extra blanket he carried.

He laid the lad on the ground near the fire, spread his vest apart, and sliced down the center of the blood-soaked tunic and shirt. He felt a catch to his heart when he saw the cloth that bound the lad's chest, to help heal his ribs, was soaked with blood. And he feared what he would discover beneath.