by Mia Pride
“Tell me what you want from me!” Brennain ignored the lout. He would find out in due time. If he could not figure it out himself, then he was a bloody fool.
“We need to get over to the ships,” he murmured to Reaghan.
“We are getting on a ship?” Marcella asked with a shaky voice.
“Nay, lass, we are not. Do not worry,” Reaghan reassured her. The night was cold and rain threatened once more. She must be freezing in naught else but a man’s tunic. Still, it was better than what she had on when they found her.
Finding a dark lane, Brennain guided them down the narrow path where there was far less chance of being seen. As they approached the end, he realized they were now behind all the buildings, at the edge of the fort. The rampart was straight ahead, as were the foreboding palisades.
“Shite. We need a way out,” Reaghan growled.
“I know a way. There is another gate out. I will not tell you unless you vow not to hurt me,” Caleb pleaded as Brennain still guided him by the neck. Cursed coward. Now that he was caught, would he whine like a babe?
“I cannot promise that. I will find the bloody gate myself.”
“’Tis that way,” Marcella pointed to their left. “’Tis the same gate they brought me through when they unloaded me from the boat and enslaved me,” she whispered. “Please, just get me away from this horrid place.” Her voice quivered once more but Brennain could sense that she wished to stay strong and remain vigilant. He respected that about her.
“Thanks, lass,” Reaghan whispered to her. “I will not let anyone hurt you.” Brennain crooked a brow at his mate as they veered left. He had not known Reaghan long, but he had certainly never seen him so gentle. He supposed a lass in distress would make any man protective. He would be the one protecting her himself if he was not using all his strength to keep Caleb from fleeing. Although, it appeared his companion was rather enjoying his role as protector of vulnerable lassies.
They ran along the edge of the wall, sticking to the shadows, yet avoiding the wooden spikes. No guards were along this side since no intruder would survive coming up the outside of the wall, let alone make it back down.
“Just up there… it is rather hidden, but I know it is there. I cannot forget…” Marcella whispered. Reaghan pulled ahead of Brennain and Caleb as the man began to thrash in earnest.
“So help me, Caleb, I will snap your bloody neck right now if you do not stop fighting me. You are coming with us… dead or alive. It is up to you how you arrive back to your wife.”
“Morna?” Caleb stopped fighting and allowed Brennain to push him from the back. “That is what this is all about? Och, you are wasting your time. She will not be glad to see me.”
“I beg to differ, but that does not matter. You abandoned her and your daughter, and I will see you face them once more… and your king.”
That made the man go silent and if Brennain could see his face, he would imagine the man had gone white. “You may as well snap my neck, for my life will be forfeit either way.”
“That is not my decision to make,” Brennain growled, and pushed the man forward roughly.
“I could scream.”
“I am certain you could, coward that you are.” That made Caleb stop talking, thank all the gods. The man may be easy on the eyes according to most people, but he seemed to have no other redeeming qualities. Why would Morna ever agree to marry such a worthless man? It made Brennain feel sick that Morna could love this man.
Marcella stopped in front of a small wooden door. “Beyond this door is the shore. The boats are docked here. It is usually guarded on the other side.”
Brennain nodded to Reaghan. It would need to be Reaghan who handled the guards, for Brennain could not risk releasing Caleb from his grip. That man would likely rather run into the sea and drown than face his king and the wife he abandoned. Worse yet, he may run for help and alert more warriors of their presence. They had managed to escape much notice thus far, aside from the few Rómánach who eyed them warily. It was best to be done with this task and leave before those men came back with reinforcements.
Reaghan looked at Marcella and put his hands on her shoulders. “I won’t let anything happen to you, but I need you to stand back while I open this door,” he whispered to her. She hesitated to leave his side and Brennain eyed them warily. Was Reaghan interested in her? More likely, it was just his natural need to protect others. Finally, she stepped away, looked at Caleb with disgust, and stepped behind Brennain for protection. Based on how they had found Caleb and Marcella, he could not blame her for hating the man. He did not know her story, but he was certain she had one. He was also certain she had not been a willing participant in that bed with Caleb.
Reaghan drew his sword at his side and grunted. “I wish I had my own bloody weapon,” he scowled at the Rómánach blade. “And this armor only weighs me down.” Brennain grunted in response. He felt the same way.
Without another word, Reaghan pushed the door open swiftly and roared, hoping to frighten any guard who was on the other side, shaking him up before the attack. Reaghan disappeared to the other side and Brennain wished he could follow his companion and watch his back. He had to trust in the man’s ability to fight while he guarded both Caleb and Marcella on either side of him. He felt her wee body shiver as she pressed against his back and every instinct to protect her was on full alert. He understood why Reaghan so fiercely held her before and Brennain would do so now if he could. Instead, he had to settle for allowing her to lean on him and share his warmth. Once they met Bryant and Mack on the other side… assuming the men succeeded, she could wear his cloak.
“Well, then. I think someone has beat us to it,” Brennain heard Reaghan say from the other side of the door. “’Tis all clear.”
Marcella clutched Brennain’s back as he pushed Caleb forward and out through the door. The sound of waves crashing became louder and for a moment, the clouds parted to allow the light from the moon to shine down on the churning sea. He saw ships bobbing on the water and felt rocky soil crunch beneath his feet. Looking down, he saw two Rómánach warriors face down in the sand. “What the…” he looked around and saw nobody else. The shore was completely deserted and there were no trees or shrubs to hide behind.
Two men carrying torches jumped off a small ship in the distance and began silently waving their fire in the air. “Mack and Bryant…” Brennain grinned and pushed Caleb closer. They must have been the ones who removed the warriors guarding the door in the wall.
“Mack is here? Bollocks,” Caleb groaned.
“What’s the matter, Caleb? Afraid the man will gut you for bedding his wife while he was away on a mission, planting your seed in her womb leading to her death, and subsequently abandoning the child?”
“Aye. Precisely that,” Caleb groaned. Brennain had no sympathy for the lout. He was trash of the earth. Scum beneath his boot. Now seeing the man, he wondered if he should simply leave him behind. He was not good enough for Morna, no matter what she thought. Why stay with a man who would leave again the moment he saw a chance? But, that was not his choice. Caleb was a traitor and had only added to aiding Rochride and the Rómánach in their plans to expand and destroy countless lives and cultures. Brennain was duty bound to deliver the man to his king.
They moved closer to Bryant and Mack, and Marcella had latched on to Reaghan again. Once they were next to the ship, Brennain nodded toward it. “This the one?”
“Aye. Filled with cargo it is… cloth, weapons, dried foods and much gold. We’ve helped ourselves to a few bags of gold. We have some for ye both, as well. It’s nay good at the bottom of the sea, aye?” Bryant winked.
Brennain only shrugged. He could not care about a bag of gold at the moment, but Mack and Bryant could take all they desired. Indeed, it was better for them to have it, rather than the angry sea. Mayhap their people could melt it down and use it to make jewelry, brooches and more.
“I see ye found that whoreson,” Mack growled from behind B
ryant. As Caleb struggled in Brennain’s grasp, he twisted the man’s arm behind him until he collapsed on his knees with a groan of pain.
“Aye. Just where you said I would find him.”
Mack growled and bared his teeth. “Your love of women will be the death of ye, Caleb.”
“Can we not discuss this later?” Reaghan murmured with irritation. “The sooner we are away, the better.”
“Right. We have the pine tar-covered branches in this satchel here,” Bryant patted the bag slung over his shoulder. “Your horses are hitched up to the cart and tied up just over there.” He pointed and Brennain followed his finger. In the shadows, he had not seen the cart and horses several paces up the shore.
Mack dug in his satchel and pulled out a long length of rope, walking over to Caleb with a glint of enjoyment in his eyes. “Let me handle him from here. He will have a pleasant ride in the back of the cart with me,” Mack grinned widely and bared his teeth. Caleb yelped and tried to run, but Mack took hold of his arm and dragged him toward the cart.
“I need Reaghan and… whoever this lass is, to get into the cart, as well,” Bryant said. “Brennain and I will stay back to set this ship ablaze, then we will drive the cart, aye? We’ve hitched all four of our horse to the cart for more speed.”
“Aye,” Brennain nodded in agreement. It was a good plan and to be fair, he was more than pleased with all the work Bryant and Mack had accomplished while he and Reaghan found Caleb. And in truth, he could not be trusted to ride in the cart beside that man, nor would he wish to spend any length of time in his miserable presence. Mack seemed more than happy to take on the task and Brennain watched with pleasure as the man tied up Caleb’s arms and legs and tossed him into the back of the cart before climbing in. Reaghan and Marcella were halfway to the cart and the wee lass clung to his arm as she shivered in the freezing wind. He hoped she would be warmer within the cart.
“My thanks for all you have done, Bryant. You have made this possible for us. I vow we had nay idea what to do or how to enter the fort before we met you.”
“It was nay trouble, mate, but let us save our thanks and praise for after the main task is done and this ship is at the bottom of the sea.” Brennain agreed with that and nodded for Bryant to proceed with the task. Handing the torch to Brennain, Bryant pulled four sticks covered with pine tar out and handed two to Brennain. Together, they lit them quickly and watched as they blazed to life, lighting up the world around them.
With all their strength, they threw the burning wood into the ship and watched with awe as the tented cargo exploded in fire. Brennain tossed the torch in with it for good measure, and they ran as fast as they could toward the cart.
“Stop those men!” Brennain heard voices in the distance and looked over his shoulder to see a group of Mal’s men running toward them. He knew they were Mal’s men, for they spoke his language and wore trousers, tunics, and cloaks, though it was impossible to see more detail than that in the dark of night.
“Shite,” he growled. They had almost gotten away without notice. He had no idea where the men came from, but he assumed they had been assigned to watch the ships from a distance and hadn’t noticed people down on the shore until the flames started. “We need to get out of here now!” he shouted to Bryant, who ran full speed beside him.
Finally reaching the cart, Brennain jumped inside and grabbed the reins at the same time Bryant did. The horses responded to their commands instantly and took off into the night, jolting the cart and causing the other occupants to roll around slightly.
“They will never catch us, Brennain!” Reaghan said with a laugh, as he watched their backs. “None of them have horses. By the time they find some, we will be long gone.”
Brennain was not at all convinced of that. The cart weighed down the horses, as did the six passengers inside. Even if they could get away, the cart would surely leave divots in the soft soil that could easily be traced back to them. He knew at some point they would need to lose the cart and make the journey back with the horses. A cart would get them through the road built by the Rómánach, but once they reached the thickly wooded areas, they would never navigate it properly. He would rather take longer to get back to Miathi than lead the enemy straight there.
Daring to turn around, Brennain saw that Reaghan was right, for now. But how long until someone was on their tail?
Chapter Six
“He is gone.”
“What do you mean he is gone?” Mal spat as he looked at his pathetic warrior. He growled under his breath. It had taken him years of campaigning to gather this army… and for what? The man in front of him was a prime example of most of his warriors, and he was about as well trained with a sword as a wild boar. The man looked like a wild boar, too, and probably had the brains of one.
“I went in search of Caleb just as ye asked, and he was gone. A woman at the brothel said she saw two men and a woman leave with him.” The blond warrior scratched his mangy head and shrugged.
“I knew he was trouble,” Mal growled. One of the dangers of recruiting men from villages as he marched toward the Rómánach fort had been the risk of informants joining his ranks and leaving in the dead of night to report to their kings. Most men stayed with him, for they knew the punishment for desertion was death and Mal never made a threat he did not mean to follow through with. He had even used his daughter, Elwynna as a whore for his men. It kept them happy and she served them well, despite her reluctance… until she stole off and married that bastard warrior from Ráth Mór.
Aye, that had been a stab to his ego and he had tried many times to retrieve her, even kidnapping their wee healer a few moons ago, holding her hostage in exchange for his daughter. The irony was that the healer was also the sister of the warrior who married his daughter. Mal laughed at that. It had been a fine plan to make the man chose between a wife and a sister, but once again, Tuathal Techtmar and his cursed informants had infiltrated his ranks and stolen Maggie away before he could get Elwynna back.
Flynn Mac Greine had married the lass soon after, or so Mal had heard from his men. It was those cursed warriors of Tuathal’s, Flynn and Brennain Mac Greine, who had gotten through his ranks last time… but he would not allow that again. He slept with one eye open and made certain his men knew the pain and torturous death they would face if they betrayed him. He vowed not to allow it to happen again.
And yet… it appeared that it had. On his travels, he stopped at Miathi to gain support. Their king sent him off and threatened war if Mal stepped on his land again, but a few men had fled with him. The three main ones who seemed to have the most promise were Mack, Bryant, and Caleb. It had come to his attention earlier this day that Mack and Bryant had fled. Mal had cursed and screamed at his men, letting his anger out by slicing through a couple of men. He could do without those few louts, anyhow. They had been worthless. But not Mack and Bryant. Nay, they had been seasoned warriors and Mal had been certain they would be good allies. Caleb, on the other hand, seemed like a daft fool. He cared more for pleasure than earning his way, but he somehow charmed the Rómánach into allowing him to dwell within their private spaces. Aye, Caleb had a way with words, even with men who hardly understood them.
Mal tugged on his bright red beard and grimaced as he looked at the arse standing before him. He narrowed his eyes menacingly as he thought about that cursed Caleb. Worry niggled him that mayhap Caleb would run home once his only companions left camp, so he waited until night, when he was certain to be found in the brothel, to have the man brought to him. No matter what he had expected, he had not expected this.
Convincing the Rómánach to join his forces and help him take Ériu had been a risk, but one he knew he had to take. These foreigners had already taken over much of Albion to the south and were trying desperately to conquer more land in Alba, though the Picts were fierce warriors and even more fierce about their culture. Fools that they were, they would rather live in filth and hovels, than allow better, more accomplished men to impro
ve their lives. He knew the Rómánach could easily infiltrate Ériu, yet they had not attempted to yet do so, so focused as they were on the land of Alba. Once Mal saw his chance, he promised to help the Rómánach navigate the land and conquer the people of Ériu, so long as he would be named High King. He could care not what changes the foreigners brought forth or how many of the people became enslaved. As long as he had the power he sought, he would be happy.
“Eoghann!” he shouted into the night sky, having no idea where his best warrior was but knew he was the only one he could truly trust. Eoghann had been his only successful informant who infiltrated Ráth Mór and convinced everyone he was a loyal warrior for King Tuathal. Being that he grew up with Maggie and Àdhamh, the warrior who married his daughter, he had been the perfect man to plant at Ráth Mór. He had even lived in the same house as his daughter for a few sennights and had been the one who kidnapped Maggie when the time was right. He had ambition, intelligence, training and was a good enough looking man to make people listen. “Where is Eoghann?”
“I am here, Sir.”
Mal spun on his heel and looked his finest warrior up and down. Unlike the rest of his warriors who were filthy and wore rags, Eoghann was always clean and well-dressed. “Caleb Mac Kenzie is missing. I need you to find the arse. With the disappearance of Bryant and Mack, I do not trust Mac Kenzie not to flee, as well. He is a man who left his wife and child to seek more power and fortune. His allegiances change with the direction of the wind and I do not trust him. The scouts I sent out to find Bryant and Mack never returned. I need to know where these men are before they make it back to Miathi and report to their king about our plans to join with the Rómánach and take over Ériu. He is a loyal ally to Tuathal!”