Warrior Untamed (4 page)

N
OW THAT I
think upon it, mayhap I do have a memory of the lad you mention.” The old stable keeper gazed down at the coin cradled in his dirty palm, his toothless smile almost invisible within his grizzled beard. “It was a fine mount I sold the lad. A fine, fine animal.”

Hall studied the other man’s eyes, noting the deception pooled there. Whatever he learned from this conversation would have to be well vetted before he acted upon it.

“And?”

He expected better than that poor tidbit for the money he’d just handed over.

The stable keeper scratched his whiskers, nodding as if to himself. “And? There is no
and.
That’s all I ken of the one you seek. The lad left here on an excellent steed, headed for I know not where.” The man’s eyes darted over Hall’s shoulder, and he shook a fist. “Out of there, you lazy cur! Get back to yer chores!”

Hall turned, catching sight of a young boy scurrying out through a small door at the side of the stable.

“Damned worthless stableboy,” the old man grumbled. “Not worth the oats it takes to feed him. Always sneaking around, listening in on me. Like as not, he steals me blind when I’m no watching.”

“Perhaps if you were to think harder,” Patrick suggested, encouraging the old man back onto the proper topic. “Perhaps then you might remember something else about our friend. Perhaps even the direction he took when he left.”

Hall’s companion held out another small coin.

The stable keeper allowed Patrick to drop the coin in his palm but continued to hold the hand open, as if he waited for more. With his other hand, he continued his incessant face-scratching.

It was clear to Hall they’d about exhausted this source of information. The old man might know more, but he obviously wasn’t going to share that knowledge.

But perhaps there was another resource close at hand.

“I’ve a need to relieve myself. Maybe by the time I return, your memory will have improved.”

Outside the smelly stable, Hall quickly caught sight of the real reason he’d come outside. The stableboy squatted near the corner of the building, his hand outstretched to offer a bit of food to a mangy dog.

“You there,” Hall called, striding forward as the boy jumped to his feet. “What are you called?”

“Donald,” the boy answered, shrinking back as Hall neared him.

“Well, Donald, I need your help. I’m searching for a friend of mine. A young lad not too much older than you. Your employer remembers selling him a fine, fine mount. Unfortunately, that seems to be about all he remembers of my friend. Can you help me, do you think?”

Hall reached into the bag at his waist and pulled out a shiny coin, holding it out to the boy.

Donald’s eyes rounded and he snatched the coin before once again backing away.

“I remember him, right enough. Though it was but a runted palfrey my master sent him out upon, no a fine steed as he claimed.”

Hall had guessed as much from the old man’s demeanor.

“Did my young friend happen to say anything about the direction he traveled?”

Donald looked down to the coin clutched in his fist before lifting his gaze to meet Hall’s. “Will you be telling my master about this?”

“I see no need to tell your master. The coin will be our secret, boy. A transaction between you and me for any information at all you can remember of my friend. It’s most important that I find him, and any little thing he did or said could be of value to me in my search.”

The boy chewed at the corner of his mouth, eyes downcast, some internal debate weighing heavily on him until at last he made his decision.

“Well enough, then. Yer friend traded me a sweet
for an extra bag of feed for his horse. He said the ride to Dunvegan would be a long one and he had concerns about the animal lasting the whole way there.”

Dunvegan.
It was the confirmation Hall needed.

He and Patrick had begun their day in Inverness at the marketplace, quickly locating the shopkeeper who had purchased one of Mathew’s jewels. In his babbling about having bought the bauble fair and square, the merchant had mentioned the MacLeod stronghold.

With some strongly worded persuasion and more of Hall’s silver to grease the path, the rat-eyed merchant had turned over the jewel that now resided safely in Hall’s sporran.

“Anything else?” he asked, focusing once again on the boy. “Anything at all you can recall.”

“Only that I dinna tell yer other friends as much.” Donald grinned and touched the pouch where he’d tucked away his coin. “But they were no so generous as you, good sir, so I dinna feel as obliged to help them in their search.”

“Other friends?” There were no other friends. “Tell me about these men, lad. When were they here?”

“They came through yestereve seeking yer friend, no even taking the time to feed and water their horses. When they left, they separated into two groups, each one headed in a different direction.” Donald leaned forward and lowered his voice as if to
share a confidence. “In truth, I was glad to see them gone so quickly. Beggin’ yer pardon, good sir, but fair odd they were, the lot of them.”

“Odd, were they?” Hall leaned in conspiratorially. “In what way?”

“Oh, aye, odd indeed. No expressions on their faces, no a one of them. Their eyes all strange and staring, as if they dinna even see what was before them, but looked after a vision of some sort.” Donald straightened and shivered. “I’ve no ever seen men look like that before, no even the ones deep in their cups.”

Fenrir’s men, Hall suspected. Likely possessed and directed by the Beast himself.

“How many riders were there?”

The boy shrugged and lifted his arm, palm facing toward Hall. “More than I have fingers to count on one hand.”

Six at the very least, then, if not more, broken into two tracking parties.

“My thanks for your help, Donald.”

“And mine to you,” the boy called back, patting the pouch at his hip before disappearing around the corner of the building.

Hall had known Fenrir would send men to recover his treasures, but he’d hoped to be ahead of them, not behind, in that search.

Turning back toward the stable, he filled his lungs once more with clean, fresh air and found himself scratching his own beard. Watching the filthy old
man inside had made him feel as if bugs crawled on his skin, and he longed for the warm Viking bathhouse waiting for him at his home.

But such pleasures of the flesh would have to continue to wait. He had more important worries.

Before he reached the entrance, Patrick emerged, wiping a hand over his face, frustration evident in his expression.

“That one’s either the greatest of fools or the cleverest of men I’ve yet to meet,” Patrick growled, heading for his horse. “But whichever he is, he’s by far the most foul-smelling of them all. I feel as though I’ve a layer of filth blanketing the whole of me and, worse still, absolutely nothing to show for it but a lighter purse and a passing knowledge of some fine, fine horse.”

“Be of good cheer, my friend. We’ve plenty to show,” Hall corrected. “While you visited with our filthy friend in there, I had myself a profitable chat with the stableboy, who confirmed that our young minstrel heads for Dunvegan.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Patrick grabbed the pommel of his saddle and fit his foot into his stirrup. “Skye it is.”

“No.” Hall stopped the other man with a hand to his reins. “Not for you, my friend. There’s more. According to the boy, Torquil’s men have a day’s lead on us. With at least six of them on Mathew’s trail, it will take more than the two of us, should we arrive too late.”

Patrick hoisted himself into his saddle, nodding slowly. “You’ll continue on, I suppose. While I return to Castle MacGahan for more men.”

“That is the way I see it playing out best.”

Hall hated dragging more men into this battle, but the one thing they simply could not afford was to allow the Elven Scrolls of Niflheim and the Sword of the Ancients to fall into Fenrir’s possession.

M
EN WERE, WITHOUT
any question, the most annoyingly arrogant creatures walking the land. And the most predictable.

“I’ve no changed my mind, little sister. My answer is still a resounding
no
. Yer to stay here, where you’ll be safe.”

Jamesy hadn’t even waited for Brie to speak when she entered the stable. He’d jumped to his own conclusions and cut her off before she’d opened her mouth.

It was exactly as she’d expected he’d behave as he and the others prepared to ride out with Patrick in his quest to catch up with Halldor O’Donar.

“Yer making a mistake. You need me with you.” Though she was wasting her breath, she had no choice but to argue. Anything else would risk raising her brother’s suspicions. He knew her too well.

“I said no,” Jamesy insisted, softening his words with a hand to her shoulder. “What I need is for you to stay here and keep watch over Eleyne in case her
cousin comes looking for her, as you claim he will. This is where you can be the most help to me.”

He gave her his best smile, as if that settled everything. As if she would believe his nonsense about this being the best place for her. Here, left behind, while he ran off to stand with Halldor against the Beast’s men.

Had he honestly thought she hadn’t seen when Patrick had ridden into the bailey, his horse frothing with the effort of their hard ride? Had he thought she hadn’t heard the impassioned arguments spilling out of their laird’s solar just because she’d not been allowed to attend their meeting?

That exclusion in and of itself still rankled.

She set her lips in a tight grimace and met his gaze.

“I am no the least bit happy about this,” she grumbled, drawing her traveling cloak close around her to ward off the chill of the morning. “I’ve every right to go with you.”

“I ken you think that to be truth, little sister. But believe me, my way in this is the best.”

It took every bit of willpower under her command for her to keep her mouth shut. It didn’t matter what he said. Since her arguments were solely to allay his suspicions, there was no point in allowing herself to be upset by his reaction. All this was playing out exactly as she had expected it would.

“There’s a good lass,” Jamesy consoled, and after a quick hug he mounted his horse. “Take yer things back
to yer rooms and dinna waste yer energy thinking upon any of this. Oh, and keep a close watch over the minstrel’s cousin, aye?”

“I’ll take care of my things once yer gone,” she answered, following beside him as he made his way to join the others. “I’m headed to the wall walk first, to see you off.”

Her brother’s relief flashed in the smile he gave her as he joined his friends and the whole company of men headed out through the gate.

She raced up the narrow stairs to a visible spot at the wall and lifted her arm in a wave of farewell. Dutifully, she kept a smile pasted on her face until the group of men disappeared into the distance.

Men. Annoyingly arrogant, completely predictable, and, above all else, unbelievably gullible. It was one of the more valuable lessons her mother had taught her early in life.

And still her uncle had the lack of good sense to wonder why she didn’t want a man of her own. Not for her. Not now, not ever. She had a much higher purpose in life than tending to the needs of some dullard.

As if to plague her, the memory of Halldor pulling her close to steal a kiss danced through her mind.

“Ha!” she huffed, smacking her hand against the stone hard enough for the sting to drive away the vision.

Of all the men she didn’t want, most especially she did not want that one.

With the riders far enough away that she could
no longer see any trace of them, she hurried down from the wall walk, across the bailey and beyond, out to the small gate at the back of the castle grounds.

In Jamesy’s haste to leave her behind, he’d never even noticed her horse was missing from the stable. Just as no one had noticed, in the midst of all the activity, when she’d saddled the animal and tethered him out near the back of the castle grounds.

Reins held loosely in her hand, she led her mount through the small gate and then secured it behind her before hoisting herself up into the saddle and trotting into the nearby woods.

Da had always claimed that the only thing that kept her from being Jamesy’s equal as a warrior was her lack of patience and her inability to control her temper. What he hadn’t counted on was her superior cunning and determination. Those traits more than made up for her small lapses of temper. Or so she consoled herself in those times when her temper got the best of her.

She traveled beside the main trail, keeping to the trees until she was far enough away from the castle to be out of danger of anyone spotting her.

Lucky for her she’d spent so much of her childhood on horseback trailing after her da. Once, when she was young, she’d even been all the way to Skye with him. The thought of again pitching across the waves on that pitiful excuse for a ferry did not appeal to her in the least, but she pushed those concerns away. That was a minor inconvenience she would deal with when the time came.

Her first priority was to catch up with Halldor O’Donar.

Finding him before the others did would be no challenge for her skills. Patrick MacDowylt was a fine warrior, but he thought in a straight line, just as her brother did. Though they’d refused her entry to their meeting, she’d listened in on them as they’d made their plans to follow the trails to the ferry that would carry them across the water to Skye.

Halldor, on the other hand, was a much more complicated thinker, more devious and cunning. She’d learned that much about him in the short time they’d spent together. He’d be keeping one eye out for the Beast as much as he would for Mathew. Especially now that he knew Torquil already had sent parties of men to find the boy.

If she were in Halldor’s place, she’d figure the smart thing to do was to keep off the main trails, cutting cross-country in an attempt to catch up to the young minstrel before Torquil’s men could. And if there was anything her time with Halldor had taught her about the big warrior, it was that he would do the smart thing.