Mist Warrior (3 page)

“
Ten years, man,
”
Branan said, suddenly conscious of the brogue he had developed.
“
Ye’ve
grown a bit as well.
”

Gavin nodded.
“
Just returned from France. King Henry had a few points to settle at Harfleur and Agincourt.
”

Duguald stepped forward and also embraced Gavin.
“
Well met, laddie. How be yer da?
”

“
He is well
,
as is my mother.
”
He paused and glanced at Branan.
“
And Catriona.
”

Branan smiled, eager to hear all about his much
-
loved foster-family.
“
Tell me, Gavin. I want to know everything.
”

“
Perhaps we should sit and talk.
”

“
Aye, Gavin, where are
me
manners?
”

“
Get ye inside,
”
Duguald said, guiding Gavin forward. He bellowed for the servants to set food and drink.

Gavin looked up at the gray stone castle and whistled softly.
“
’Tis a fine keep.
”

“
Thank ye,
”
Branan said.

They entered the keep
through tw
o exquisitely carved doors made of imported English oak. The castle was not large
,
but solid and very defendable. MacTavish land was fertile and the clan prospered. They sat at the large table in the great hall. Branan took the chair that had once been his father’s. A servant poured them wine and Gavin took a drink, sighing contentedly.

“
Now I feel better.
”

Branan gazed at Gavin a long
moment, noting the changes that
had taken the awkward, gangly
,
Gar/span><
youthling he once knew. Gavin was much taller now, standing at six feet, but Branan had at least a span on him. His shoulders were broad and strong, his waist narrow. Yet Branan wondered how much change Gavin saw in him. He took a drink of his wine, feeling the rage which had been boiling in him fade into nothingness now that his boyhood friend was here.

“
As I said, I just returned from France,
”
Gavin said.
“
I stopped home
,
then came here.
”

“
How was France? We know very little of the war and have heard only a few rumors.
”

Gavin winced.
“
Agonizing
,
but despite illness, starvation, and being out numbered, we slaughtered the Frogs at Agincourt. King Henry is the only reason we are home alive.
”

Branan nodded.
“
If rumor is to be believed it was the Welsh long
bow that saved your sorry skins.
”
H
e spoke gruffly
,
but in truth
,
was grateful for the weapon that had brought his foster-brother home alive and well.

“
Aye.
”
Gavin stared at his cup, his blue eyes losing their luster.
“
Branan, my reason here  is not completely social. Although, I hope you know we’ve all missed you.
”

Branan’s jaw tightened but he tried to remain relaxed.
“
Is something amiss?
”

Gavin slowly nodded
as he took a deep breath.
“
My father was going to come
,
but you know that game leg of his. I told him it would be faster if I came alone.
”

“
He probably dinna appreciate that much,
”
Branan said casually, not wanting to push Gavin even though his heart screamed questions faster than his thoughts could form the words.

“
Aye,
”
Gavin replied.
“
Father...believes it is time for you to reclaim your heritage from Strickland.
”

The blood drained from Branan’s face and abruptly he was forced to fight back his rage again. It seemed his future, the day which
had seemed
so far away it was never real, was suddenly at hand.

Gavin focused his attention on the wood grain of the table.
“
Strickland’s growing old. He sired a bastard and name
d
him heir. But you know the church and the king would not approve of this inheritance, especially if you challenge for your legal birthright. Still, my father fears if Strickland dies, your claim to the Wardenship of Inglewood will be further muddied. And lately, Strickland and his b
astard have been terribly heavy-
handed with the people, destroying villages who do not pay huge taxes to him.
”

Branan’s gut curled into a sickening knot and he took a drink of wine to cool his temper.

“
There is more, Branan,
”
Gavin said softly.

“
Aye?
”

“
Catriona has been betrothed.
”

Gavin’s words kicked him in his chest. A blinding flash of red shot across his vision and he battled to suck in a breath. He felt his control slipping away like sand through his fingers.
God’s wounds!
Why did this unexpected news hurt so much?
It felt as if s
omeone had shoved a dagger through him and twisted the blade until it snapped.

Again he fought to breathe
,
and knew he was on thent>e was o verge of completely losing control. Only twice had he lost himself to his rage. First, on the eve of his mother’s death when he
’d
tried to a
ttack Strickland. The second had come
a year later
,
when a boy
had
tried to strike Catriona. Branan, although only thirteen,
had
beat
en the lad so badly he’d
almost killed him. Both times had nearly resulted in death
-
the first his own, and then another’s. From that moment, Branan
had
realized he
’
d
have
to learn to control himself or he would become just as ruthless as Strickland, a man he abhorred.

He had to escape this
news and grab some air. He se
t his cup down with a thunk and rose.
“
The servants will see to yer meal, Gavin,
”
Branan said, trying to be pleasant, but he spoke through clenched teeth.
Then, g
iving up on courtesy entirely, he strode from the hall, through the bailey, and out the gates, quickly vanishing into the cold mist.

Branan did not know how long he walked
,
but he strode over the rough terrain until his leg muscles burned and his breath rattled in his throat. The mist seemed to close about him, beading his hair and dampening his face. Brown grass mottled the ground
,
with sharp breaks of dark rock and white patches of aging snow scattered about.

He stopped on a small rise, able to see nothing but gray
after
a few feet. His anger was finally under some semblance of control but he understood so little of what wa
s happening in his heart and
the dark corners of his mind. Sometimes he felt as if he teetered on the edge of sanity. There was something so black, so powerful within him that it terrified him. It was always there, threatening to wrench from his contr
ol, to possess him with madness
–to consume him from the inside

Why was it there? The first twelve years of his life haIt his lid been difficult and terrifying. That he readily admitted. For as long as he could remember
,
he had lived in fear of Strickland. Watching what his mother
had
suffered at Strickland’s hand had nearly destroyed his soul. Later, as he grew older, he
’d
suffered Strickland’s wrath by trying to stop him. And to his horror, his actions only
had
caused his mother more agony. She had borne Strickland’s beatings with courage
,
but when Strickland turned his fists on Branan, it nearly unraveled her. She would submit to anything if Strickland would only leave
him
alone.

Then there was his mother’s revelation on the eve of her death. Even now, he could barely wrap his thoughts around the whole thing
,
let alone understand it.

For two short years he
’d
found blessed solace with the
de Reigny
s
, u
ntil Uncle Duguald arrived and John de Reigny
had
told young Branan it was time to leave
, T
hey
’d
feared Strickland would find him
if he remained
.

In the black of night, Duguald
had
spirited Branan away to his father’s clan in Scotland. But it did not end there. Duguald
had
feared Strickland would discover Branan
and hire an assassin. He’d
moved Branan from family to family, telling no one he was the son of their murdered laird.

Duguald trained him in the ways of the knight but it was not until
he
reached the age of majority did Duguald speak the truth and allow Branan to claim his heritage is laird of Clan MacTavish.

The black rage within Branan continued to grow in strength. Because of his youth, he had remained a pawn in a game others had devised for him. But no longer. Now Gavin was here and it was time to seize control of his own destiny. No one would lead him like a bull with a ring in his nose. No one would
withholmonond">wid
his legacy from him any longer. But was he ready for this day?