Raging Sea (12 page)

Something was inside his mind, pushing him, pushing him to accept this offer. He could not breathe now. Pain exploded in his head.

“Even as she punishes those who do not serve her,” he said, staring into Soren's eyes. The pain grew more with each passing moment, until Soren broke free with one thought.

Ran.

He became the winds and tore away from the fireblood. De Gifford screamed out in anger and set everything on the beach and the surrounding area on fire.

“You will come to me. She will come to me,” he shouted as Soren flew higher. “Chaela will be served!”

Some force rippled through the air as de Gifford screamed out the name of the one he served. The name had its own power.

After sending a message to Svein on the whispering winds, Soren raced back across the sea and the islands to Ran. Forming his body before her, he met her startled gaze and knelt before her.

“'Tis worse than we thought, much worse,” he said.

•   •   •

Hugh tried to keep hold of the stormblood, but he could not. His powers lessened day by day because for too long he was too far away from a place where he could commune with the goddess. If he was to defeat the Warriors of Destiny and bring these two to his side, he needed to find a place that opened to the void.

The one thing working in his favor was that the gatekeepers here were so new to their powers that they still thought in human ways. That would slow them down and give him time to do what he must do. He turned and walked to Svein.

“You will take me to the place where they are,” he ordered. Pushing his will into the human, he repeated the order. “You will take me there.”

Svein blinked several times and moaned as the pain of resisting heightened. Hugh pushed again and once more until blood began to drip from the man's nose and eyes.

“Why do you resist so?” he asked, walking up to him. Staring into his bloody gaze, Hugh asked again. “To resist is pain and death, human. I can cause it. You have seen it, so doubt not my intention. So why do you resist my wishes?” He needed this man or Hugh would have caused his head to explode as he usually did to those who disobeyed.

“Ran,” Svein whispered.

The same word that the stormblood had uttered before he escaped. But it was not a word, was it? It was a name.

“Your daughter?” he asked. Svein could only close his eyes. De Gifford released him and the man fell to the sands, gasping for air and in agony.

Hugh smiled. Both Svein and the stormblood were linked to the waterblood—one by blood, the other by desire. He'd felt that connection as soon as the stormblood realized the pleasure in exercising his power. Controlling her would be much easier now that he understood the stormblood's weakness.

He had no doubt that the winds and sea would release the ships momentarily, just as he did not doubt that Svein would take him to the island where the other bloods were. He closed his eyes and spread his senses out, seeking the other Warriors who would oppose him. Ripples on the edges of his senses warned of their approach.

“Take him to his men, Eudes. We will leave as soon as the winds and sea let go of their hold on the ships.”

Take us to your home,
he ordered with a thought.
Directly there,
he pushed.

Blood gushed from Svein's head. Hugh cared not. As long as someone could hold him up and the man could mumble, he was of use. As soon as his usefulness ended, so would his life.

The thought of so much destruction and death ahead brightened Hugh's mood. Knowing that he would control the storm and seas in a very short time made him smile.

Chaela, I will free you soon, my Goddess,
he whispered.

Soon.

“
I
fear we must release the ships, Ran,” Soren said to her as he knelt before her. “He is torturing innocent men until we let him go his way.”

“And my father? Does he yet live?” she asked, hoping their actions had not resulted in his death along with the others.

“He lives. The man, Lord Hugh de Gifford, knows you are Svein's daughter.” Soren took her hands and she did not resist. He had some terrible news to tell her, she knew. “He will keep Svein alive as long as there is a use for him. At this moment, his usefulness is related to you, Ran.”

“So he stays alive as long as Hugh de Gifford thinks to control me through him?”

Soren confirmed her words with a nod.

Ran had seen the way men worked and how men of power controlled. Watching as her father plied his business over the last two years had exposed her to the corruption and dealings of men who wanted something. If she had been naive when she'd left, she did not remain that way for long. It was the type of marriage in which she would find herself, if they all survived.

The truth of the matter sank into her soul. Unless they could come up with a way to defeat this evil man and the entity he served, her father would die. Chances were that he would die before they could defeat Hugh. The tears began before she realized it.

Soren reached out as though to wipe them but he stopped himself. Instead he lifted the hem of her cloak and handed it to her to use.

“What do we do now, Soren? Do we give in to this evil and keep my father alive, knowing we endanger so many more by doing so?” she asked. Soren looked startled by her words.

“I think he will be busy searching for the stone circle he believes is here in Orkney. Releasing the ships and him gives us time to find a way to stop them. If it is your intention to do that?”

He watched her with those deep, blue eyes, waiting for her answer. Two years ago, that intense stare would have melted her heart and given him whatever he wanted of her. But now, now she wondered what it meant.

“Do we have a choice?” she asked him. “These powers did not just appear for no reason. If we believe the story Father Ander found, we are part of a group of people who can stop this evil. The only ones who can.” She let out a sigh.

Just weeks ago, her intention had been to have a short visit home before leaving on the journey to a new land, a marriage and a new life. At that time, everything in her life was settled and the pain of the past eased for the first time in two years.

Now, she sat here looking at the one man she could not trust being asked to put her trust in him and in some ancient plan begun eons ago. If there was an old god in charge of this, it had to be Loki, the Norse trickster god who disrupted with guile and deception.

“Are you ready to loose the winds and I will release him from the sea's grasp?” she asked, climbing to her feet with his help. Ran glanced around the area. “I know not how to influence the sea without being near it or in it,” she admitted.

“The evil one said you command all the water,” Soren said. “So the water that hides in the ground and runs to the lakes and sea is also yours to control. Give your order and I will give mine.”

Release the ships,
she said in her thoughts as she closed her eyes.
Release my father's ships.

After a few minutes of silence, she opened her eyes and found Soren staring at her. The expression she recognized. Two years might have passed, but she knew that look and what it meant. And the worst thing was that she was certain she returned it.

Oh God, how she wanted him! Whether it was more intense because of the danger or if she'd simply lied to herself all along, she knew now that she wanted him with every muscle and fiber in her body. Ran could imagine what would happen if she gave in—the passion between them would soar and be that much stronger and more explosive for their time apart. Her body ached for him. Her body readied for him. Her body . . .

She stumbled back away, making the next step impossible. Ran wiped her lips even though there was no kiss to wipe away. Passion and its play were not difficult for them. Nay, their bodies spoke the same language from the first time they'd touched. Lying with Soren had been a joyful thing. And though her body would be exhausted and sometimes sore from his strength and relentless bed play, it would welcome him in the next instant.

It could not happen. It could not happen again.

“I need . . . my . . . from the pack,” she stuttered as she walked away from him and over to where the horses were. Walking anywhere but into his embrace. He let her go but his eyes followed her every step. She moved over to the packs and found hers, tugging the ties loose and looking inside it.

For nothing. For anything. She looked for something that would give her an opportunity to regain control over her wayward self. How was she going to manage being so close to him, risking everything at his side, and not give in to the terrible, complete need for him?

“Do you need help?” Soren called out.

“Nay,” she said, “I have found it.” She pulled a woolen blanket from the pack and walked back to the hut. Unfolding it, she tossed it on the one they were sitting on. “A bit more if we're to sleep on it,” she explained.

“Go ahead then,” Soren said, pointing to the spot sheltered by the wooden frame. “I will watch for a while.”

“Are we in danger?” she asked.

“I think not, but I would rather be certain. Go. Rest.”

When she finally was able to look at him directly, she recognized his own discomfort in this situation. At his friend's farm, he could have slept in a separate place from her. Now, they would pass the night in close confines. She nodded and sought a place on the blankets while he stood outside.

“Soren?”

“Aye?”

“What will we do next?” she asked. They needed a plan, something that made sense.

“De Gifford does not know where the circle is,” he said. “He said something about it being hidden from sight. It being disguised by the other circles built to hide its location.”

Lying on her back, she thought on it. “So it would not be the ones here then?”

“I think not, but there are other places marked on my grandfather's drawing.”

“Or in clues he left at those places?”

“Aye. So I think we should continue to search as we'd planned. And when we meet Ander at the coast, he may have more answers for us.”

“I agree,” she said.

She sank back into the silence, watching by the light of the half-moon as he paced slowly between the hut and the lake. His movements, even paces back and forth, eased her into a sleep she did not think she would get. Sometime in the night, he crept into the shelter and lay down on the blanket at her side, close but not touching at all.

The next thing she knew, Ran opened her eyes and found Soren watching her sleep. His gaze was on her mouth then and she heard him groan when she licked across the bottom lip in reaction. It mattered not, she repeated to herself.

They were different people now, with different lives.

So why did she pray he would kiss her?

“Ran,” he whispered in that tone she loved.

Mayhap one kiss would prove it was over? Mayhap one kiss would release the tension and let her move on? Even knowing she was lying to herself, she took the next step.

“Kiss me, Soren.”

And he did.

The only thing it proved was how foolish she truly was.

•   •   •

Soren touched their mouths together, sliding his over hers.

But then she leaned in and opened to him.

Like a man dying of thirst, he drank her in. If his hand moved to her waist and drew her closer, he remembered not. If she reached up to take hold of his shoulders, he could not tell. All Soren knew was that she was in his arms.

He tasted her, slid his tongue inside her mouth and teased hers until she touched him back. The kiss changed from touch to possession and he moved on top of her to show her that he'd not forgotten anything of their passion.

She opened to him, sucking on his tongue now and cupping his arse as he ground into her. Her thighs welcomed him and he eased between them, sinking in close to her. The fabric of her garments prevented him from anything more intimate, but she shifted her leg so that his cock was rubbing her deeply.

His body hardened. Hell, he'd been erect since the first time he'd seen her in the marketplace. Now, though, his flesh thickened and readied and he prayed for her touch there.

When Ran moved her hands up to tangle in his hair, pulling his mouth to hers, Soren cupped her breasts, sliding his thumbs over the nipples he knew were dark pink and full. She arched against him, causing a friction between their bodies where his cock touched her. Her nipples were always so sensitive and her body responded to his touch as it always had.

A moment later, she pushed at him and they rolled so that she lay on top of him. Straddling his hips, she sat back and reached up to gather her hair out of their way. It made her back arch and her breasts angled right into his waiting hands. Her breasts pleased him, filling his hands and responding to every caress. Her nipples hardened—he could feel them through the gown she wore—so he pleasured them.

He wanted her mouth. He wanted her tongue in his mouth. Sliding his hands around her, he drew her down to him—hair be damned. She placed her hands on either side of his head and balanced there, kissing him, kissing him back, sucking on his tongue.

Then, as quickly as it had begun, it ended.

Ran pulled herself up, still sitting over his cock, and stared at him. Shaking her head, she slid off him to sit at his side. His erect flesh no secret, it pulsed within his breeches as she moved away. Soren took in several deep breaths, fighting the urge, the urges, his body was screaming about.

“I . . .” Ran began. “It cannot be. This”—she glanced at his cock, which pulsed under her gaze— “cannot happen between us.”

He wanted to ease her feelings and confusion, but he had no words to offer about that. The only thing standing in their way was her father. And considering that Svein needed Soren's ungodly help, he doubted Svein would object at all. More likely, Svein would give Ran to him in exchange for his help if he asked for her. Nothing was more important to Svein Ragnarson than himself.

“Go to sleep, Ran,” he said, climbing to his feet. He would get no more rest this night so he walked over to the lake's edge and sat there, trying to convince his body that there would be no more of her.

It took a long time for his body to accept the truth of it and to calm. The sun's light crept over the southeastern horizon then and Soren knew that another day of torment was just beginning. He would pay for his sins one way or another.

•   •   •

Marcus stood near the front of the ship, watching as the sun rose in the east and greeting it with prayers he knew so well. He felt Aislinn at his side as he finished his prayers. With a final word of praise, he turned to face her.

“Aislinn,” he said. “Are you well?”

She nodded and smiled. “I had the most interesting dream, Marcus. You will not believe what happened.” So little in these last days and weeks had been good, and from her expression and her light tone of voice, he suspected this bit of news would bring all of them joy.

Marcus took her hands in his and nodded. “Tell me. Was it a prophecy?”

“I met another priest. He lives here on Orkney. He awaits us in the bay where we will arrive.”

“A priest?” Marcus asked.

William approached, but waited a short distance from them until he was invited closer. The warblood was always respectful of the conversations between the priests. “Aislinn has seen a priest, already on Orkney.”

“Aislinn, what did you learn of him?” William asked. Aislinn's dreamwalking had saved Brienne's life and William had been part of it, so he respected that, too. “Did you send someone on ahead, Marcus?”

“Nay. I know of none in our line here.” He and William looked at Aislinn for an explanation.

“He did not know until the mark rose and the dreams began,” she explained. “And, Marcus, he is a priest in the Church. The Church of Rome.”

“How can that be?” William asked before Marcus could. William had been raised in that faith. “Catholic priests are not usually open to heresy.”

In lands where the Church ruled, talk of other gods or other faiths brought up charges of heresy, damning anyone accused of that to torture and a fiery death.

“I saw him. He wears the robe and cross and his hair is cut in the manner of a priest. He said his name is Ander. Father Ander.”

He and William exchanged glances and shrugged. William's own faith had been tested and shifted from the belief in one God to the possibility of others in this endeavor.

“He knows both of them. The stormblood and the waterblood are known to him and their powers are rising.”

Aislinn's dreams and prophecies had pointed them north to Orkney and to the one island called the Mainland. But they expected to go and search for signs of the stormblood and waterblood. Now, though, this priest had given her wonderful news. Marcus shook off his shock first and nodded.

“Gods be praised!” Marcus called out. The others gathered around them. “We have a brethren priest awaiting us ahead.”

The excitement spread and it brought about a lifting of spirits that they all needed. William even called to the other ships and told them. The winds were kind to them and soon they approached the northwest corner of the main island. With the knowledge and instructions given in her dreams, Aislinn was able to direct them to the bay closest to where Ander would await them.

By afternoon, the ships approached as closely as they could and anchored. It took several more hours to unload the people, horses, supplies and weapons. By dark, the encampment was set up and they awaited the arrival of their newest priest.