She spun around to see Arrowsmith the bowyer. He was holding his bow in one hand and two arrows in the other. He was staring at her his eyes kept signaling to her right.
The only thing to her right was a wooden door. Orla reached out to touch it and Arrowsmith nodded and mouthed a silent, “Go.”
Her instinct told her to run. Orla opened the door and before it closed behind her, she turned back to see Arrowsmith pull up his bow, simultaneously nock two arrows and aim at the postern gate.
Orla plunged down a dimly lit passageway and ran. She could hear shouts coming from the outer wall and thanked the heavens Arrowsmith had found her when he did because the Castle was under siege.
***
Siege
Brodie and his men were at the Training Grounds when he heard the bells ringing. The Castle was under siege. His driving instinct was to head to the Great Hall. It was the place he and Orla had agreed to meet if they were ever separated within the Castle.
But the enemy was already pouring into the Bailey. The MacGregor warriors instantly went into battle mode, grabbing swords, shields and battle axes. They stood in formation, then Brodie shouted the war cry and as one cohesive unit they moved. Cutting down mercenaries in their path.
Brodie saw flashes of black hair and golden hair fighting alongside him and turned to see Thorfinn and his men join the battle. Norsemen and Scotsmen fought as one both protecting reigning Monarchs.
Together, their fighting abilities overpowered the disorganized mercenaries as they moved as one army inside the Castle.
Brodie sprinted towards the Great Hall, battle axe in one hand and sword in the other, dispatching any enemy who came across his path. His one thought was to get to his wife.
***
Melee
Orla stumbled around in the narrow passageways for what felt like forever. She could not find a way out. She cursed castles with a labyrinth of inner walls. Who designed these things? It could only be a man!
Orla worried about Brodie, Arrowsmith, the MacGregor retainers, Thorfinn and the King and Queen and all the servants inside the walls. She was working herself up into hysterical panic and she knew it, but dark confined spaces with no doors had never been her strong suit.
Breath and stay calm. She kept repeating to herself as she ran, looking for an opening or doorway in the walls.
Finally, she hit a hollow wooden panel. She pushed it open with such force she fell face first into a long empty corridor. She rolled, stood and moved herself against the wall as she tried to get her bearings to the Great Hall.
She needed to head up. Orla found a staircase, it looked clear; she pulled out her dagger and dirk and sprinted up the stairs. She made it to the first landing, sprinted across a hallway of chamber doors, and when she rounded the corner, it looked familiar. She was close and knew where the secret passageway was that could lead her to the back of the Great Hall.
Ten minutes later, Orla was in the back chamber of the Hall. It relieved her to find it empty, but it did not stay that way for long. No sooner had she entered it two men burst through the other door a few meters away. One said, “That’s her!”
Orla did not hesitate she shoved her knives into their scabbards. Reached back and pulled her bow out with her left hand and pulled two arrows with her right. In quick succession she nocked, aimed, and fired one arrow after another. Her aim struck true, and both men lay bleeding out on the carpet.
Orla pulled the arrows out of their chests then ran into the Hall. She stood with her back against the wall, staring from the dais, scanning the room for Brodie.
Men engaged in combat across the hall. She picked off mercenaries one by one with her bow and arrows. Hoping Brodie would arrive soon.
She had absolute faith that he would find her, but she had run out of arrows and more men were filing into the Hall. Orla flung her bow over her shoulder and pulled out her knives. It would come down to hand to hand combat.
It was then she felt a prickly feeling, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She looked across the dais and made eye contact with pure evil. Moddan.
He had a salacious grin. He held his sword and pointed it at her, then charged.
Orla braced and did exactly as Dalziel taught her. She slowed her breathing, focused on the blades in her hands as if they were extensions of her body, and she waited for Moddan, observing his every move. When he was close, she dropped down to the floor at the last minute and slashed her dirk across the back of his legs. She heard him cry in pain and stumble sideways. Orla then rolled and stood behind him and slashed the back of his thigh. Moddan regained his balance and turned around.
He looked shocked. “You fucking whore!” he shouted, then ran at her again, this time swinging his sword.
Orla moved backwards, barely dodging his blade. She stumbled and fell off the dais, landing right in the melee of fighting men.
Orla rolled out of the way of battling swords and belly crawled across the floor slashing her blades and weaving her way through a sea of mercenaries. All the while, Moddan kept stalking her.
Eventually Orla gained her footing and made it to a wall but was trapped, between hostile men and Moddan.
She wondered where the hell Brodie was. She hoped she lived long enough to punch him in the face for choosing the Great Hall as their meeting point. The worst plan ever!
***
Chapter 16 – Two Worlds Collide
Mercenaries came pouring through the Great Hall, hell bent on taking the Throne and Killing Orla.
Brodie arrived at the hall and his heart lodged in his throat when he saw Orla fall off the dais.
He roared and ran straight into the crowd of fighters, cutting and slashing a path desperately trying to reach Orla.
He saw her stand and get to her feet, and for a moment he felt relief until he saw a man trying to attack her left side. Brodie took his battle axe and hurled it through the air, it lodged in the attacker’s forehead.
He could see Moddan gaining on her, and Brodie fought harder to get to her with his sword. He sliced and cut mercenaries as he pushed forward, not even feeling the bloody cuts and slices against his own body. He was surviving on pure adrenalin alone.
But he could not reach her.
Moddan was moving towards her now, cutting down the last man who stood in his way, leaving the way open to get to Orla, mere meters away down in full swing, aiming straight for Orla’s heart.
As if in slow motion Brodie knew Orla was about five seconds away from death and that sense of helplessness, and the inevitability of death, that nothing they could do would stop this madman. Moddan had killed Izara and now he would kill Orla and all the men who protected her would fail again.
“No!” The guttural roar that left Brodie's throat was visceral he was going to watch his beloved get slaughtered before his eyes. Desperation, panic, love, and failure warred as one within him as he desperately tried to push forward.
Dalziel entered the room so did Thorfinn and all of them were trying to get to Orla. But men blocked their path.
Orla braced herself against the wall, watching her life flash before her eyes, her only regret that she had not said one last goodbye to the man she loved the most on earth. She staggered sideways. The crowd had parted and Moddan stood before her, his sword poised to kill. There was no way Orla could prevent Moddan’s blade from cutting her. Moddan raised his sword, a wicked smirk on his face as he was about to bring it crashing down. This was it. Orla took a deep breath and braced, ready to meet her maker.
When something fell from above. Not something, someone. A flash of movement, a flicker of a long robe, the sound of material flapping in the breeze before a dark-skinned warrior with a keening cry landed sure footed directly in front of Orla. He held two curved swords with long blades in each hand; they were curved like large semi circles. The likes she had never seen. He lashed the hooked end forward like a whip, and it stabbed Moddan in his side. While his other blade hooked around Moddan’s sword an
d flung it out of Moddan’s hand.
Moddan shouted in pain as the sword's curved end dug into his flesh. He clutched his side. The warrior then twirled the swords with his wrists and swiveled left-to-right with his feet. He crossed the blades in front of him, then flicked them to the sides… he paused a moment as he held his blades suspended in the air, and then he unleashed unholy hell on the unsuspecting mercenaries.
Orla stared in wonder as the warrior single handedly cut down five men in quick succession. They had no chance against the rotating blades. They cut even men with shields because the swords curved around and pierced their backs.
Moddan had already backed away, using men as cover against the vicious, fast moving blades, panic written on his face as men screamed in horror around him, never having encountered a foe or weapons such as this.
As if in slow motion, a second warrior dropped from above wearing similar robes, and he flanked Orla’s other side, cutting down more men who dared approach. Orla felt an instant bond with him. Their skin tone was the same, their eyes were the same, their hair the same. As if an innate understanding passed between them, soul deep. Orla knew she was staring at her twin.
The Warriors then stood in front of Orla as the tide turned within the Hall and the mercenaries fled. No one dared approach the two strangers for fear of being hooked by their long blades.
Brodie breathed a sigh of relief as he got closer the two men turned towards him before Orla yelled, “No, he belongs to me!”
Brodie moved straight to Orla and swept her into his arms. She wept when she saw him, then slapped his face for choosing the Great Hall as a meeting place. The others just watched with amusement.
They heard trumpets outside the Castle, a sign that the insurgence was over, and the enemy was scattering and running for the hills.
By this time Orla had composed herself. She noticed Dalziel stood over Moddan. He was still alive but in terrible shape, losing a lot of blood.
Thorfinn came across to her and froze when he saw the young man barring his way.
“Who are you?” Thorfinn said with a frown.
“Who is asking?” Kato replied with a scowl.
In that moment they looked so alike, their mannerisms even their size and the way they both tilted their heads to size one another up. Neither backing down.
“I believe this is my twin brother and your son,” Orla said.
Thorfinn took in a deep breath and whispered, “Son?”
Kato was at a loss for words. He looked at Ajani who said, “This is your sire.”
Kato then turned to Thorfinn and growled. “Where the hell were you? We had to do all the work!”
Thorfinn looked shocked.
Brodie stifled a laugh.
“Li’uli!” Ajani reprimanded him. “Do not speak to elders that way.”
Brodie addressed Ajani, “I am grateful for your help, you saved my wife’s life, and I will be forever in your debt.”
Ajani responded, “There is no debt I would do anything for the Princess.”
He moved towards Orla, placed one hand over his heart and bowed. “Li’iliti; I am Ajani, your humble servant, I have searched many years for you. I am happy to serve you.”
Orla she just launched herself at Ajani and hugged him and said, “Thank you.”
Ajani looked embarrassed and said, “Please Princess, it is my job to serve.”
The others looked confused, so did Orla. “I am not a princess.”
“Yes, you are. You are the daughter of Princess Izara, the granddaughter of Queen Gudit of Abyssinia and you are my sister,” Kato said.
Orla just stood stunned. “I dinnae ken what any of this means.
“I think tis time we all talked,” Macbeth said. He was now standing on the dais with his guardsman surrounded by carnage.
“Aye, it seems there is much to discuss,” Thorfinn grumbled.
***
A Mother’s Love
Several hours later, after they saw to the injured, bodies removed and the castle put in order, Brodie and Orla, Ajani and Kato and Thorfinn met with Macbeth in the Upper Hall.
It was here all parties formally introduced themselves and discussed their role in this complicated family saga.
Macbeth and Ajani had already spoken a sennight earlier. They had agreed on a private meeting so Orla could meet her kinsmen when the siege happened.
Queen Gudit’s message to her granddaughter was simple. If Orla was not happy living in Scotland, Ajani would return her to Abyssinia, where Orla would take her rightful place as a member of the Royal Family.
Thorfinn and Kato spent some time talking, and it seemed Kato was warming to his sire, although he was still angry that Thorfinn kidnapped his mother and caused much grief to his grandmother.
Orla spent time with Ajani learning everything she could about her mother’s homeland and still in disbelief that her mother was a Princess and that her twin brother had survived. She shared her appreciation that Ajani had saved her life.
It was two hours later over a meal that Ajani told the story of Orla’s origins to everyone in the room.
Orla’s grandmother ruled a Kingdom stretching from Abyssinia to Yemnat a vast region. Zeila was a trading port where Viking raiders had traversed. The day Izara disappeared, she had slipped past her guards to explore alone.
“Like mathair, like daughter,” Brodie muttered to himself.
Ajani had tracked Izara to Orkney, but by the time he found her, the Stronghold was on fire. Someone had locked Izara and her babies in a room. A lady’s maid, Runa, was trying to get the door open. When Ajani knocked the door down, Izara was already dying from a knife wound to her chest but had sheltered her children.
“She asked me and Runa to protect you both. We promised we would,” Ajani said, “but I could not travel with two babies without arousing suspicion, and I only had a small window of time to return to Abyssinia.”
Ajani looked at Orla, “I am sorry, I had to leave you behind. If I left Kato, the danger would be greater for him as a male heir. Runa agreed it would be easier for her to hide a girl. That day, I left with Kato and Runa took you with her.”
Orla said, “Dinnae trouble yourself. I understand now.”
Ajani continued. “I intended to return for you, but war besieged my country and travel was impossible for a few years. When I was free to travel, I could not find Runa or you. We had given up hope until word reached me that there was a rumor of a mixed-race Viking woman lived among the Scots.”
“Do ye ken who killed Izara?” Thorfinn asked. He was still seething from the news of how Izara died. He hated himself even more, for not being there for her.
“Your half-brothers sent the men that killed Izara.” Ajani said.
Thorfinn and Macbeth exchanged a knowing look. Thorfinn's eyes blazed with fury and Orla suspected if Moddan was still alive in the dungeons, he would not survive the night.
***
Later that night Brodie and Orla were in bed discussing the day’s events.
Brodie said, “You have more royal blood in you than anyone on earth. If you want to return to your real home—.”
“My home is with you, Brodie Fletcher. You are my Prince, and I cannot miss what I dinnae ken. But I would miss you. You are my home.”
He kissed her lips.
***
Bounty
Late that night a missive arrived from Beiste MacGregor. They had become inundated with constant attacks from raiders searching for Orla. Beiste said someone had placed a large bounty on her life, attracting mercenaries and invaders of all kinds. The Jarl needed to acknowledge she was under his protection.
***
Torture Chamber
“Ye killed my woman and tried to kill my children. Do you have any last words?” Thorfinn asked Moddan.
“Aye, I dinnae regret it. Your woman cut off my hand and killed two of my brothers. I curse the day I ever laid eyes on a blasted Earl of Orkney!”
Thorfinn dug the tip
of his golden spear deeper into Moddan’s side. He started screaming in pain.
“You will tell me who else threatens my dattar’s life.”
“What do I care, ye’ll kill me, anyway. “Moddan spat blood on the ground.
Thorfinn said, “I kenned you would say that which is why my men are getting ready to travel to a house in Caithness where a woman named Greta hides your only son and heir.”
Moddan stiffened, the look of panic in his eyes. “Ye leave him alone!”
Thorfinn grinned. “Now why would I do that?”
Moddan blurted out, “Rognvald had me set a large bounty on Orla’s head. They willna stop coming for her unless she’s dead, spare my son, and I will do anything to stop them.”
Dalziel entered the room carrying a sheet of vellum and metal tipped pen. “You will write word for word what I tell you.”
That night Moddan died a painful death at Thorfinn’s hand. A golden spear pierced his skull, dealing the death blow. His beaten body was wedged on a spike outside the Castle gates for everyone to see.
Moddan’s son slept soundly in his bed, unaware how close to death he came that night.
***
A Father’s Love
Thorfinn spent some time thinking about Orla’s safety. He had observed how protective Brodie was of his wife and how in love Orla was with her husband. She had lost much in her young life. He did not want to take away any more of her happiness.
The next morning Thorfinn met with his King.
“King Magnus, I wish to discuss the matter of my dattar.”
“Whit, is it? I trust the annulment is granted and she will come with me.”
Thorfinn said, “I have had a… change of heart.”
“Tis not like you to change your mind on territorial matters.”
“Aye, but dis is my dattar, more precious than territories.”
Magnus sighed. “Very well, whit is it?”
“There is something better I can offer you,” Thorfinn said.
“Go on.”
“Kalf Arnason, my fiancé’s uncle and your once most trusted advisor.”
“Whit about him?”
“Ye said yerself last time we met, Kalf had a hand in King Olaf’s death.”
Handfasted to the Bear: Reformed Rogues Book 2 Page 14