Warriors in Winter

by Michelle Willingham

  ‘Please,’ she begged, ‘don’t tell him I’m gone. I can’t tell you where I’m staying, but I promise I’ll return. Just give me one day.’

  The young man eyed her with the greatest reluctance. ‘The only reason we haven’t told Connor already is because I promised Alanna I’d find you.’

  ‘And you did.’ She took his hands in hers. ‘It’s all right. I’ll return before anyone else notices I’m gone.’

  ‘What am I to tell Connor if he asks where you are?’

  ‘Tell him the truth. That I’ve gone to tend a wounded man.’ She saw the doubts on the young man’s face and asserted, ‘If anything happens, I will take the blame for it.’

  Though her family might discover her absence, the greater concern was caring for Kaall’s wound. She couldn’t leave him now.

  Because you don’t want to return home, her treacherous mind warned. You want to stay with him.

  Turmoil and confused feelings warred within her. She was consorting with an enemy she hardly knew.

  But you want to know him, her conscience continued. Even though it’s wrong.

  A moment later, she turned at the sound of footsteps crunching through the snow. Kaall stood at the edge of the forest, making his presence known. In his hand, he carried a blade.

  Cavan started to protest, but she silenced him. ‘He’s only protecting me. It’s all right.’

  ‘Do you know him?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied.

  Her cousin eyed her with wariness, but finally relented. ‘Only until the morrow. If you’re not back by nightfall, they’ll come after you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ By then, she would know if Kaall’s wound had worsened. Yet, it was not enough time for him to heal...nor was it long enough to make sense of her troubled feelings.

  With a farewell to Cavan, she returned to the woods. The outer crust of snow had frozen, and her footsteps made a crunching sound as she approached. When she reached Kaall’s side, he pulled the fur coverlet across her shoulders, drawing her close. She didn’t protest, though the heat of his skin worried her. She needed to brew him a tea to bring down the fever and help him to sleep. It would also make it easier for him to fight off the poison rising in his blood.

  They walked for long moments and the torch made it possible to light the way. About halfway through the journey, she felt his body beginning to tremble. ‘Are you all right? Can you finish the walk?’

  ‘I’m cold,’ he admitted, though his skin burned to the touch.

  ‘We’re closer now,’ she said. ‘I promise you, when we arrive, I’ll take away your pain. You’ll sleep and feel better.’

  He gave no response, and she continued talking, trying to take his mind off his injury. ‘When I was a girl, I lived near Banslieve, with my mother and father. It’s northwest of here, far away.’

  ‘Why did you travel here?’

  ‘Most of my cousins and other family are nearby. I thought I would marry someone from this region, but my father travelled here when I was seven and ten and forbade it.’ She supported Kaall as he walked, adding, ‘He made it impossible for me to find a husband.’

  The Lochlannach stopped walking a moment and regarded her. The moon had slid out from behind a lacy cloud. ‘He wants you to have a strong protector. A man who would fight for you, no matter what he faced.’

  ‘No man was willing to stand up to him. When my father threatened them, they stayed away from me.’ She leaned in closer, keeping out the frigid winter air. ‘I hated him for that.’

  ‘Then those men were weak.’ His sightless eyes stared past her. ‘When I wanted Lína, I did everything in my power to win her. I wouldn’t have cared what her father said or did. But she didn’t want me.’

  Rhiannon took his hand in hers. ‘If she spurned you for your blindness, then she was weak.’

  Kaall didn’t respond, but neither did he release her hand. For a brief moment, she allowed herself to daydream, to imagine this man confronting her father. There were a hundred different reasons why Connor would object to the match, especially with Kaall’s blindness.

  But then, such imaginings were foolish. His heart belonged to the woman he’d lost a year ago. And though he’d kissed her, both of them knew it meant nothing.

  Then why did you stay with him? her mind taunted. She had no answer for that.

  Just ahead, Rhiannon saw the torches on either side of the gate. The Lochlannach settlement of Gall Tír had been here for hundreds of years. Once, it had been the home of Viking raiders, but gradually they had intermarried with the Irish over time. Yet they still kept the Norse customs, holding on to their own traditions.

  ‘We’re here,’ she said. Tension tightened within Kaall’s posture, as if he didn’t want to be. His complexion was feverish, his gait unsteady.

  There were men guarding the longphort, and when they saw her, their expression turned wary. They spoke in the Norse language, and from their angry tone, she suspected they weren’t glad to see him.

  ‘I am taking him to see Vigus,’ she interrupted, stepping between them. ‘He’s been wounded.’

  ‘Vigus won’t see him,’ one said in her language. ‘He’s an outcast.’

  Their declaration startled her, for Kaall had led her to believe he’d chosen to live apart from them. Regardless of the truth, their blatant prejudice irritated her. ‘I am a healer, and I brought him this far so I can treat his wounds. How can you deny shelter to a man who needs it? I thought you were his kin.’

  They said nothing, and she took Kaall’s hand, pushing her way past them. The men didn’t stop her, but neither did they offer their assistance.

  ‘Where can I find your father’s house?’ she demanded.

  ‘Take me to the house furthest from all the others, near the outer wall.’

  She frowned, for the dwelling he’d mentioned was small and looked abandoned—not at all a house she would expect a chief to live in. They crossed the space, and when they reached the hut, she suspected it had once belonged to Kaall. Why would he bring her here, instead of seeking help from his family?

  Pride, no doubt. She decided it didn’t matter. When she knocked on the door of the hut, as expected, there was no answer.

  ‘Just go inside,’ Kaall told her. ‘Build a fire and we’ll spend the night here.’

  She bent before the hearth stones and found some wood and peat which she built up, along with tinder. Within a few minutes more, she had a small fire burning.

  ‘I’m going to find your tribe’s healer,’ she protested. ‘She may have the herbs and medicines I need to brew you a tea.’

  ‘This was the home of our healer before she died,’ he said quietly. ‘You should find what you need among her belongings.’

  A sudden realisation came over her when she saw the shielded pain in his expression. ‘Your healer was Lína?’

  He nodded, his hands moving across the table until he found a pallet against one wall. Rhiannon gave him the fur coverlet, and he shivered hard, clinging to it. The dim light of the fire made it difficult for her to find what she needed, but within a wooden chest, she found an iron pot and a box containing various herbs, along with dried mint, chamomile, and willow bark. First, she would give him a mild brew to take away the pain and help him sleep. Then she planned to make a stronger poultice to draw out the poison from the wound.

  As she worked, she kept an eye on Kaall, not knowing how far the fever had progressed. The short journey had taken its toll, and she hurried to make the tea. When at last it was ready, she brought it to him, easing him up to sit while he drank.

  ‘This should help your fever,’ she said. ‘You’ll feel better in the morning.’

  He finished the cup and set it aside. Before she could return to make the poultice, he caught her hand and held it. ‘You didn’t have to go to such trouble.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she whispered, though he was wrong. She couldn’t have allowed him to suffer through the night, not when she could do something to prevent his pain
.

  His hand squeezed hers and he drew it slowly to his mouth. The light kiss was wholly unexpected, as if she meant something to him. A piece of her heart seemed to break away as he lay down and closed his eyes. But he didn’t let go of her hand.

  Rhiannon held it for a time, not knowing how he’d managed to slip past her defences and lay siege to her feelings. This man needed her. He’d given her shelter, saving her life, and she could do no less for him.

  But more than that, he’d revealed a truth to her—one she’d never guessed. Her father hadn’t prevented her from finding a husband. He’d prevented her from finding the wrong husband.

  She released Kaall’s hand and settled down to clear her mind. If she wanted a man to share her life, he needed to be strong enough to fight for what he wanted. And if he wasn’t willing to fight for her, there was no hope for such a match.

  In the darkness, she blended garlic with other herbs, making a poultice for his arm. She bound it over his wound, and though he was conscious of her actions, he said nothing, keeping his eyes closed.

  When at last she’d done all she could for him, she lay beside him. Kaall’s body heat mingled with hers, and she drew comfort from his presence.

  * * *

  It was dark when Kaall awakened, and the fire burned low. Though his skin still felt warm, it was no longer the harsh burning fever he’d known last night. Rhiannon slept beside him, and from the scent of her skin, he felt the sudden ache of what it would be like to have a wife. To awaken with a woman in his arms, one he could hold in the darkness.

  The thought disappeared as quickly as he’d imagined it. It would never happen.

  He sat up on the pallet, trying to gain his bearings. He’d known Lína would have the herbs Rhiannon wanted. Upon his arm, he felt the remnants of whatever poultice Rhiannon had given him, and he discarded the herbs to examine the wound with his fingers. The swelling had receded, and though his arm was still sore, the pain was more bearable.

  Slowly he stood, feeling his way with the wall to guide him. When he reached the far side of the room, his knee cracked against a table, and he let out a curse.

  ‘Kaall?’ came Rhiannon’s sleepy voice. He tried to move toward her, staying clear of the fire’s warmth, but then he walked into one of the support beams. The blow caught him across the cheek, and he slammed his fist against the wood, furious at his blindness. He couldn’t even walk across a room without harming himself. What hope did he have of getting Emla back?

  ‘Is it dawn?’ he demanded. The winter nights were long, and he couldn’t tell if it was day or night.

  ‘Almost.’

  He heard the soft footsteps coming toward him, and her hands reached out to touch him. ‘Your knuckles are bleeding.’

  ‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ he snarled. His fury was hanging by a thread, at the frustration of being unable to complete the smallest task. ‘It’s nothing I haven’t done before. The bruises and cuts will fade.’

  His humiliation went deeper than that. He’d wanted to show Rhiannon that he was more capable than this. That he could be like other men. No doubt she saw what everyone else did, that he was worth nothing at all. That he couldn’t take care of himself, much less a child.

  But Rhiannon reached out to touch the bruise forming upon his forehead, her hands moving down his face. ‘How is your arm?’

  ‘Better.’ She made him feel like an ungrateful beggar for lashing out at her when she’d tried to help him. He gathered control of his temper, but her fingers were moving over him, examining his skin. She tempted him in ways she didn’t understand.

  ‘I’m starved,’ he admitted. He’d slept hard, vaguely remembering moments when she’d changed the poultice, spooning tea into him.

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ she told him. ‘You slept through all of yesterday until your fever broke last night.’

  An entire day gone? He could hardly believe it, but when he felt the bandaged arm, it did seem much improved.

  ‘When the sun rises, you should go back to Laochre,’ he said. Her family would likely be beside themselves with worry since she hadn’t returned.

  ‘Is that what you want?’

  No, that wasn’t what he wanted. In these few days, she’d given him a glimpse of another life. One where there was someone to talk to, someone to help him cook a meal. A slight respite from the endless hours without Emla, easing the loneliness. If he were a different man, he’d ask her to stay a little longer. Perhaps get to know her better.

  He sensed her moving closer and ventured, ‘What would you have me say? We both know it’s better if I leave you alone.’

  ‘Is it?’ she murmured. Her words allured him, making him wonder what she meant by that. Though he’d given her every opportunity to leave, her hands rested upon his chest, over his heart. The light touch sent his pulse racing, for he was entirely aware of her. He wanted nothing more than to pull her hips against his, to taste her skin and feel her come apart as he penetrated her body with his.

  But he knew, even if she didn’t, that to imagine anything more would only cause complications.

  ‘When it’s light, I’ll ask my father to escort you home.’ He pulled back from her, and the cold winter air drifted against the dying fire. There was no reason to prolong her departure, not when his wound would now heal on its own.

  ‘I suppose you’ll be glad to be rid of me. It’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?’

  Disappointment hung within her words, and he found himself unable to agree with her. ‘It was once.’

  She let out a slow breath, as if she’d been holding it. ‘And now?’

  He had no answer for that. Interminable minutes passed, but the only answer he could give was touching the side of her face. Letting the physical caress speak the words he couldn’t say.

  Rhiannon held his hand to her cheek, and ventured, ‘I’ll ask Vigus about where they took your daughter.’

  The promise caught him like a blade within his stomach. It was as if she’d seen past his blindness, offering him the thing he wanted most. Bringing his daughter home again meant everything. And yet, he couldn’t involve her in this. Her family would never allow it.

  ‘You needn’t trouble yourself on my behalf,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ll speak to my father and ask.’ Whether or not Vigus would answer was impossible to know.

  Rhiannon tossed another brick of peat upon the fire, and he heard it catch with the flames, hissing in the silence. ‘Why did they call you an outcast when we arrived here?’

  ‘I chose to exile myself from them.’

  ‘But why would you want to leave? Were you giving up on Emla?’

  ‘I never gave up. I did it to prove I was capable of caring for her. I lived alone for half a year, with no one to help.’

  Her silence was damning, as if she didn’t believe it was a good idea at all. ‘If you chose to isolate yourself and let her go without a fight, then I suppose that was your choice.’

  ‘This was never my choice!’ he lashed back. ‘Do you think I wanted to lose her? Do you think I wanted to lose my sight?’

  ‘No,’ she murmured.

  ‘I wasn’t born blind,’ he told her. ‘I saw this place as a boy. And as the years passed, my sight grew worse until it was gone. You can’t imagine what that was like.’

  ‘My father was a master swordsman,’ she said quietly, ‘until his hand was crushed by an enemy. He thought he would never fight again, but he overcame his wounds.’

  ‘I’ll never see again, Rhiannon. It’s not a wound that will heal.’

  She reached out and took his palm. ‘But you can still fight for your daughter and prove yourself. Walk with me a moment.’

  With his hand in hers, she guided him toward the door while counting paces. ‘Five,’ she finished. ‘Five paces from the doorway to the back of this space.’

  She opened the door, and the cool morning air blew over his face. ‘It’s not quite dawn,’ she told him, ‘and in another day, it will be the solstice
.’

  ‘The longest night of the year.’

  ‘Yes.’ She kept his hand in hers and added, ‘Which dwelling belongs to Vigus?’

  ‘We’re not going there.’

  ‘Oh, yes, we are.’ She tightened her hold upon his palm. ‘You weren’t a coward before, so don’t start now.’

  ‘I have nothing to say to him.’

  ‘We’ll find out what happened to Emla. Now count the paces with me.’ She wasn’t at all listening to him, and her obstinacy intensified his bad mood.

  ‘What are you trying to do, Rhiannon?’

  He felt her cool fingers brush over his eyes. ‘You’re right that I can’t heal these. But there are other parts of you that are hurting. You want your daughter back, and you have the right to know where they took her.’

  ‘Why would you want to help me?’

  ‘Because a father and daughter shouldn’t be apart.’

  He squeezed her hand in silent thanks. Her fingers threaded with his, and he sensed a connection with her. As if she understood the hollowness he’d lived with for the past few months.

  Rhiannon continued counting aloud, leading him past each of the homes. Though he didn’t know if anyone was watching them, they had barely reached the centre of the longphort before she stopped suddenly. Her hand tightened in his in a silent plea for help.

  ‘Have you found a new pet to take for a walk?’ a man taunted.

  Kaall recognised the voice of Hromund, one of the men who had instigated the raid last year. Without a word, he drew Rhiannon behind him. ‘Leave her be, Hromund. She’s returning to Laochre.’

  ‘I’d be glad to escort her back.’

  In the man’s voice, he heard the tone of interest, and Kaall suppressed the possessive rage that rose up inside him. ‘You won’t come near her.’

  He unsheathed the battleaxe at his waist, all instincts on alert. Hromund held a high opinion of himself and relished a fight. Every instinct warned that this wasn’t a good idea. The last time he’d tried to fight, he’d killed the Irishman without meaning to.

  But Rhiannon’s hands pressed against his back, and she whispered, ‘He’s standing to your right.’