Hemera continued to stare at him, saying not a word.
“Have you nothing to say?” Dalmeny demanded, releasing her chin with a sharp shove.
She held her tongue for a moment, until the sharp pain that shot through her head eased. “You were in the feasting hall when Egot took me upstairs to Talon’s sleeping chamber. You did not have enough time to get through the fighting and up through the secret passageway. Who was it that took me?”
Dalmeny laughed. “You ask me that and not how I knew of the secret passageway.”
“The only way you could have learned of it is from the person who built it, which means you were close to him.” She shook her head. “Though, I cannot see this man betraying the King after he went through so much trouble of building the passageway all on his own.”
Dalmeny responded out of sheer surprise that she had realized that. “My uncle built it and I learned of it as he lay on the battlefield wounded and mumbling, thinking I was Talon. When I finally understood what he was saying, I made sure he would speak of it to no one else. I did not even tell my sister, knowing one day it would be of use to me and me alone.” He smiled. “That day finally arrived and I shared my secret with another.” He stepped aside.
“It is good to see you again, sister,” Ulric said, stepping out from behind a group of trees.
“I go about Talon while you speak with your sister,” Dalmeny said and disappeared into the woods.
It had always seemed strange to Hemera that Ulric’s hair coloring was closer to Verity’s than to hers, bold like the sun, his beard a bit darker with braids running through it. His features were not as striking as Talon’s, but there was something about them that drew the eye or perhaps it was his eyes as blue as the summer sky that captivated women. He was tall and slim, his body defined with muscles and he was strong, exceptionally strong. She had seen him squeeze the life out of a man with one hand.
“Da has made peace with Talon. He will not be pleased with what you do here,” Hemera said as Ulric approached her.
“Da is a fool.” Ulric stepped close to her, his breath heavy on her cheek. He grabbed her neck and gave it a threatening squeeze as he whispered, “And when this is done, I will not only be Chieftain of the Southern Region, but also conqueror of the Picts. The fool Dalmeny will never see it coming.”
He released her and when Hemera’s throat eased from the pain, she said, “You will never defeat Talon.”
“I thought that once, then you came along and a wise King turned into a fool.” Ulric planted his nose so close to hers that they almost touched. “You, my dear sister, will not only be the fall of the King of the Picts, but the entire Pict Nation.”
Stay strong.
Hemera’s heart beat so loudly upon hearing the voice in her head that she was not sure who had spoken, but she held fast to the encouragement and continued to silently reach out to the forest for help and strength.
“You are wrong, Ulric. You will never defeat Talon, King of the Picts.”
The light suddenly faded and Hemera and Ulric cast a glance upward to see that a large, dark cloud had drifted overhead, robbing the forest of light and a slow creeping fog began to spread along the ground.
“The forest does not like what you do here,” Hemera warned.
“The forest has no say, you fool,” Ulric said but cast a wary eye at the encroaching fog and the dimming sky.
A rustle in the bushes had him turning and reaching for his sword. He dropped his hand away when he saw it was Dalmeny returning. His scowl told Ulric that something was wrong.
“The fools lost Talon,” he said with an angry growl.
Hemera kept herself from smiling. The forest had heard her and was keeping her husband safe.
The fog grew thicker, rising up and swallowing the trees and making it impossible to see beyond them.
Dalmeny and Ulric cast cautious and anxious glances as the fog rolled over their feet, but rose no higher. It was as if the fog purposely left them visible while devouring everything around them.
Hemera could not help but add to their unease. “Talon will be here soon and he will kill you both.”
Ulric landed a blow to her cheek that sent her face jerking to the side.
A raging roar poured out of the fog. “For that and all the other evil you have done to my wife, you die an agonizing death.”
Chapter 34
Ulric and Dalmeny went for their swords as Talon emerged from the fog, the heavy mist retreating slowly behind him as if bowing in homage to the mighty King.
Talon was a sight to behold. His dark garments made him appear as if the earth had spewed him from its dark depths, and a flicker of fear sparked in Dalmeny and Ulric’s eyes. Hemera shivered herself, especially seeing Talon’s two swords gripped tightly in his hands and his deep blue eyes swirling like a mighty storm about to break loose. There was no denying he was ready to kill.
“Release my queen,” Talon demanded his voice as strong as thunder.
Spittle spewed as Dalmeny spoke his anger was so tangible. “She is not fit to be queen or you King.” Dalmeny raised the point of his sword to Hemera’s throat.
“Are you too cowardly to face me without the threat of my wife between us?” Talon did not wait for a response. “You are a coward and a traitor and I will see you dead for what you have done.”
“Let us see who the coward is,” Dalmeny challenged, lowering his sword and stepping away from Hemera. “Come get her... if you can.”
Warriors poured out of the forest and down from the trees, ten in all, blocking Talon’s path to Hemera. They were large men, many of them thick with muscles and some with several scars, meaning they were all seasoned warriors.
Talon laid eyes on each one of them. “Drop your weapons and surrender and I will not kill you.”
They all roared with laughter, except one.
“You were warned,” Talon said and with the lithe swiftness of a wolf ready to attack, he charged at the warriors. The first two ran at him as well and when they looked about to collide, they swung their swords. Talon dropped just before the sharp blades reached him and their own blades struck each other, felling them both. Talon was up on his feet before the next two reached him and the ones behind them were not far off. He was on the one warrior before he could raise his sword. He sent him stumbling into another warrior and as the two fumbled apart, Talon drove his one sword through them both, swinging them around and sending them into two other warriors. He finished those two off with quick thrusts.
The last two warriors hesitated, not a wise choice. Talon let out a roar that tore through the forest, the birds taking fearful flight while animals scurried to find shelter. He charged at the two men who swung their blades in fright instead of precision. With arms crossed over his chest, the sharp blades not far from his own neck, he once again dropped to the ground, though this time he swung his blades and sliced the warriors’ legs with such powerful blows that he nearly severed one leg completely. He was on his feet in one fluid motion, his swords dripping blood as he held them down at his sides and approached Dalmeny.
“Any closer and my sword cuts her just enough for you to watch her die slowly,” Dalmeny threatened, nicking her neck with the point of his sword.
Hemera felt a dribble of blood, but her worry was not for her. She needed Talon to know how important it was for this land and its people for him to live and rule. And if it should prove necessary, he had to put that above all else... even her. “You are King, my husband, and that is more important than anything.”
Talon’s fury had never raged as hot as it did at that moment. She all but told him her life was unimportant compared to his, as if he should forfeit her life so that he may rule. “Hear me well, wife, you are all that matters to me.”
His heartfelt words brought a tear to her eye and it spilled over and ran down her cheek to meet her gentle smile.
“Let her go. I will not warn you again,” Talon threatened.
Dalmeny snickered
. “I will—”
Talon was a blur to Hemera, he moved so swiftly. She jerked her head back and squeezed her eyes shut as soon as she felt the blood spray her face. Dalmeny’s agonizing screams made it impossible to keep them closed. She opened them to see what had happened.
Dalmeny was on his knees, his head dropped back, screaming to the heavens as he cradled his one arm, his hand dangling off his wrist having been nearly severed off completely.
Another blow from Talon’s sword and Dalmeny’s hand fell from his wrist and rolled to a stop not far from him.
“Finish it!” Dalmeny screamed in agony.
“Not until you confess the names of every single traitor involved in your betrayal,” Talon said. “Only then will you die.”
“I will never tell—”
Talon’s sword was swift, leaving a gash in Dalmeny’s arm. “You will tell me or you will face a torturously slow death.” A hard whack with the hilt of his sword to Dalmeny’s head had him dropping to the ground in silence.
“I am glad you did that. His screams were growing tiresome,” Ulric said, having stepped a distance away.
Talon turned his sword toward Ulric.
“I would think twice of harming me. My father would not take kindly to it,” Ulric said, his tone full of confidence and his arms folded across his chest as if in defiance.
Talon spoke not a word to him. He slipped his one sword in its sheath at his back before turning to Hemera and slicing the rope down the side, freeing her. He stepped closer as the ties fell away. His one arm caught her to rest against him, her limbs so numb she could barely stand on her own. He held her close, his heart pounding like an intense war drum against his chest, relieved he finally had her safe in his arms. He never intended to let her out of his sight again. He almost laughed at the impossibility of that task, but for now he would let himself believe the unlikely thought and ease his worries.
Hemera rested her head on Talon’s chest, relishing the pounding of his heart that belonged to her, the comfort of his strong arm that hugged her close and that he—the King—cared deeply enough for her that he would give his life. Not that she would ever let him.
His hand pressed lightly just below her waist. “You are unharmed?”
“We are good,” she whispered, “now that you are here.”
“She has survived worse,” Ulric said.
“At your hands,” Talon accused.
“She grew stronger because of it.”
“Then you should grow extremely powerful by the time I get done with you.” Talon raised his sword, though kept hold of his wife. “Your father does not know you are here, does he?”
Ulric’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword. “What difference does that make?”
“All the difference,” Talon said. “Haggard would never know what happened to you if you simply disappeared.”
“Northmen who survive the search for those who helped Dalmeny and they will tell my father I was here. He will then know it was you who took his son’s life and he will go to war with you.” Ulric grinned and nodded at Hemera. “Until we meet again, sister.”
Talon felt the shiver that ran through Hemera and he wanted Ulric dead for what he had done to her and the torment he was causing her.
Her husband’s eyes warned of another impending storm and every muscle in his body grew taut in preparation. With some of the numbness having faded from her limbs, she was able to raise her hand and rest it on his chest. “Let him be. It is not worth it. One day he will get what he deserves.”
A gruff voice drifted out of the fog. “That day is today.”
The fog that had begun to dissipate returned, growing heavier around them.
Talon closed his fingers more tightly around the hilt of his sword and kept his arm firm around his wife.
Ulric drew his sword, his knuckles turning white, he clutched it so tightly.
A crackling laughter sounded and an old stooped woman, leaning on a staff a good head taller than herself emerged from the fog.
“Grandmother,” Hemera cried out with joy and, with weak steps, hurried to the old woman who held her arms out to her. “I have missed you so much. I was hoping you would find me.” She hugged her grandmother with what strength had returned to her, happy to once again be in her arms.
Talon stared speechless.
“Have you lost your voice, you fool? You certainly did not lose it the last time we met,” the old woman scolded, looking to Talon.
Hemera turned to Talon, her smile wide. “You have met my grandmother?”
Talon was trying to comprehend what he was seeing and what it meant. “Your grandmother is the Giantess?”
Ulric started laughing. “This short, skinny, old crone is your fabled Giantess?”
The Giantess patted Hemera on the back before easing her away. “Go to your husband, my dear granddaughter.”
Hemera was reluctant to leave the old woman, it having been too long since she had seen her. But when she felt Talon’s hand slip in hers and close firmly around it, she turned and stepped into his powerful arms.
“You better treat her well or you will deal with me,” the Giantess warned and reached out to poke him with her boney finger. “I will be watching.”
Talon fought the urge to say something to her, but being well aware of her powers, he wisely held his tongue.
The Giantess turned to Ulric. “As for you—”
Ulric burst out laughing. “What are you going to do, old woman, hit me with your staff and warn me to behave?”
Talon could not help but smile.
The Giantess shrugged her shoulders. “As you said, I am a fable and what can a mere fable do?” She rubbed her chin. “Let me show you.” She raised her one hand slowly while she began to chant.
Ulric shook his head. “As I said, sister, I will see you again.”
Talon’s smile faded, hearing Ulric’s threatening tone.
Ulric grinned at Talon, pleased that he was leaving him unable to extract revenge while letting the King know he had not seen the last of him. He turned to leave and stumbled, falling to the ground. He sat up, his brow narrowing at the vines that had wound around his feet. He went to cut the encroaching vine away but before he could, it curled rapidly upward around his legs. He went to raise his sword, but a vine suddenly coiled around his wrist, squeezing so tightly that it forced him to drop his sword.
He turned angry eyes on the Giantess and with a flick of her finger the vine rushed up his whole body, wrapping him tight and leaving only his eyes and nose to be seen. She stomped her staff on the ground and a length of vine shot out and wrapped around the bottom of it.
“I will release the fog so your warriors can find you,” the Giantess said to Talon and once again raised her boney finger at him. “Remember, harm my granddaughter in any way and I will harm you far worse.” She turned a smile on Hemera. “I will visit soon and we will spend time together. You have learned well your heritage, but there is more for me to teach you.”
She disappeared into the fog, dragging a struggling Ulric behind her, his eyes pleading for help until he could be seen no more.
Hemera sighed, glad the long, eventful day had finally come to an end and she and Talon were alone in his sleeping chamber. She sighed, pulling the blanket up around her.
Talon turned away from the fire pit when he heard her. “Something is wrong?”
“Aye,” she said with a spark of teasing in her eyes, “you fail to keep me warm.”
He approached her slowly and Hemera could not help but admire his naked body, and know that every night from this one on, he would sleep beside her.
“How warm do you want me to make you, wife?” he asked, yanking the blanket off her and covering her with his body.
She winced when his one leg touched hers and he was off her in a flash, stretching out beside her to examine her leg.
“I forgot about the rope burns you suffered,” he said and also gave a look at the burn on her one arm.
“There are still things left to do. I cannot leave the Imray Tribe without a chieftain for long.”
“Minn,” Hemera suggested. “She would make a good chieftain.”
He pulled the blanket over them when he felt her shiver. “We think alike, wife.”
“Then there is my father. He will demand answers about Ulric.”
“I will be truthful. I kept my word. I did not harm Ulric.” He ran his finger faintly over her lips and she shivered, though this time not from a chill. “There will be little he can do to prove otherwise without implying that his son was here to start a war.”
“I am pleased to know that Bethia has hope of your uncle surviving, though I am sorry that Gerun did not. He saved my life.”
“He did his duty and he will receive a warrior’s burial and his family will be well cared for.
“You are a good King.”
“I do not think the Giantess would agree with you.”
Hemera sighed. “I only heard my grandmother called that once when I was very young, but my mum told me I needed to always remember it. That I could reach out to my grandmother if ever needed. She would always help me.”
“Why did she not come get you after your mum died?”
“There are times my grandmother hibernates. It is vital to the well-being of the forest and the land. By the time she found out it was too late, though it helped when I realized I could reach out to her through my thoughts. She helped me to survive, helped me to learn. My grandmother’s roots go deep in this land as do mine. It was one reason it was so difficult for me being away from here. The Northmen’s forest treated me well, taught me much, but it too knew that I needed to connect with my roots to flourish, knew I needed to return home.” She smiled. “I was pleased that you had met her.”
The King & His Queen (Pict King Series Book 3) Page 30