The first words out of Willow’s mouth as she came to and before she opened her eyes were, “He took Snow?”
“Easy,” Slatter cautioned, relieved to hear his wife speak. “You have a good-size bump to your head.” Concern for the bairn had his hand going to rest on her stomach.
“No worries there,” Willow assured him.
A weak bark alerted all that Thaw was waking.
“Do you know who took her, Willow?” Tarass asked, his anger taking rein.
“No one familiar to me. He was a big man, older, gray hair. He hit me with the hilt of his dagger before I could do anything.” Tears threatened Willow’s eyes. “The sweet cakes. Someone put something in the sweetcakes that put Snow to sleep. She’ll wake and not know where she is.”
Tarass turned to Runa, and she responded before his question left his lips.
“Someone from the kitchen brought the sweet cakes.”
A commotion outside the door had Tarass headed for it when the door opened and Fasta came stumbling in, Rannock having given her a rough shove.
“We found her a short distance in the woods. She was waiting for us,” Rannock said.
It wasn’t lost to anyone there that Fasta wore the garments of her people, rough cloth, fur and animal hides. She held herself tall, her shoulders drawn back, her chin raised more than a notch, her regal stance letting them know she thought herself above them.
“Where’s my wife?” Tarass demanded.
“I’m here to take you to her. You and you alone,” Fasta emphasized. “Unless, of course, you want her dead, which will happen if you don’t come with me… alone… and without a weapon.”
Willow gripped her husband’s hand, fear for her sister and Tarass trembling it.
“Lead the way,” Tarass said and when Fasta turned, he sent a look to Rannock. He would know what to do.
Fasta stopped at the door and turned, a command in her voice that left no doubt she was to be obeyed. “If any of you should think to follow, know that we have warriors watching. Any of them spot anyone following, and Snow dies.”
This time when Fasta turned, Tarass looked to Slatter and he gave a barely noticeable nod.
Slatter had a way of not being seen and Tarass was counting on that.
When the door closed behind Tarass, Willow pressed her brow to her husband’s and whispered, “Please, please don’t let my sister and her husband die.”
“You have my word, but promise me you will do nothing to jeopardize yourself and the bairn.”
“I promise. Worry not, be safe, and know I love you. Now go,” she said softly and kissed him quick.
Slatter didn’t hesitate and Rannock hurried out the door after him.
No one saw Thaw sneak out behind them.
Chapter 33
Tarass didn’t give Fasta the satisfaction of asking her any questions as they walked through the woods. He didn’t think she’d tell him anything anyway. She enjoyed keeping him in suspense, believing it added to his suffering. He realized with each step he took, that it was what the person responsible for this whole horrific ordeal wanted. He wanted to cause Tarass pain, cause him to suffer the worst way possible, and he had done that by taking Snow.
A shudder of fear chilled him at the thought of what might have been done to her. As long as she was alive, as long as he could hold her in his arms again, nothing else mattered.
“It was so easy to become part of your clan and have you trust me,” Fasta said.
He’d wondered when she wouldn’t be able to take the silence any longer. Or not talk about what she perceived as a victory for herself.
He struck her with words he knew would hurt the most. “You were nothing more than an insignificant servant. I barely knew you were there.”
She stopped abruptly and turned, her eyes round with fury. “We’ll see how insignificant I am.” She turned back around, her gait full of anger as she left deep tracks in the snow.
It didn’t take as long to reach their destination as Tarass feared it might. He wanted to get to his wife, hopefully find her unharmed, and see her safe as quickly as possible. Then he’d deal with the man who had dared to take Snow from him.
Fasta stopped at the edge of a clearing in the woods. “Wait here,” she ordered and walked to the other end and disappeared into the woods.
It wasn’t a far distance away, but far enough that he wouldn’t be able to reach Snow quickly if need be and that troubled him.
A man emerged a few moments later. A man Tarass didn’t recognize.
He was a big man, though not as tall as Tarass, his body thick. His hair was gray and he wore it in a braid. He wore the cloth, furs, and hides of the Norsemen. His face was like a leathery mask wrinkled from the harsh winters of the far north. Looking past it, Tarass could see that he once had fine features, but he didn’t recall ever meeting the older man.
“You wonder who I am,” the man said, his voice strong enough to be heard between the distance that separated the two men.
“Where’s my wife?” Tarass called out.
“In time,” the man shouted.
Tarass feared the delay was for a reason that could have this meeting end far differently than he’d hoped.
“What do you want? Why does a man I don’t know want to harm me and my family?” Tarass asked with a strength that could be easily heard.
“It would be over and done if you had been with your parents at the Sandrik village.” The man shook his head. “It took me a while to realize it was better that you weren’t there. That my revenge would be much more satisfying with you alive. That I could take from you what was taken from me and leave you to suffer as I have done all these years.”
Fear twisted Tarass’s stomach and he roared out, “Where’s my wife?”
“Not yet,” the man returned with his own roar.
Tarass never prayed, but he did now, silently, for his wife’s life. If for some reason his father had taken the life of the man’s wife, it meant sure death for Snow.
“What was taken from you that left you filled with such vengeance?” Tarass asked, a dread falling over him.
“Everything!” the man roared once again.
“Not everything,” Tarass called out. “You’re still alive.”
“Would you feel that way if I took everything from you? Your wife and the bairn growing inside her? Your whole future?”
The dread that had fallen over him felt as if it choked Tarass, it squeezed at him so tightly.
“You would hate, feel jealous, and want revenge as well,” the man called out, anger exploding from his every word.
“My father never would have killed a woman and child,” Tarass argued, fear for his wife’s life growing his muscles taut.
The man laughed, though it wasn’t with joy. “It wasn’t your father who took everything from me. It was your mother.”
Tarass was shocked speechless. He was aware that his mum had been a skilled warrior, but he had never expected his parents’ deaths was because of something his mum had done.
“Anora was the daughter of a powerful Norse chieftain, a skilled warrior in her own right, her tribe far superior to your mum’s tribe. Anora became furious when she discovered that your father had told all in his clan that I was dead. It was my punishment for keeping my plans from him and hurting his friend Fay. I didn’t care. I had no wont to return home, but it was an insult to Anora that I was banished from my homeland soil for what she believed was punishment for marrying her.”
Tarass realized who he was then. “You’re Conall, Twilla’s son, and the father of Fay’s bairn.”
“I am,” he cried out with pride. “I so regret ever poking that whimpering fool, Fay, not that Anora would have cared. However, she wouldn’t have liked that Fay carried my child when she was carrying my child as well.”
“You knew Fay was with child?” Tarass asked, thinking of the devastation secrets could cause.
“Aye, and I wanted no part of her. I was about to wed
Anora and become husband to the daughter and only child of a powerful Norse chieftain who respected me. I wasn’t going to throw that away for a weak woman whose family would never accept me.”
“So you never told Anora the truth?”
“No, and she decided to seek revenge for the insult when she found out your mum was visiting with her people, though she kept it a secret from me.”
Tarass had engaged in too many battles and confrontations not to know the man was borrowing time, and his concern grew for his wife’s safety.
“Where’s my wife? I want to see her now!” he roared.
Conall returned his roar. “Soon!”
Tarass wanted this done now. He wanted to see that his wife was unharmed. “From what you say Anora attacked my mum’s village and my mum defended herself.”
“If only that were true, I wouldn’t have lost everything,” the man bellowed, pounding his chest. “Your mum told her the truth. Told her about Fay. Told her that was the reason your father banished me from my homeland. Told Anora I cared for no one or nothing but the power of being wed to a powerful chieftain’s daughter.” The man’s dark eyes turned round with rage. “You know what Anora did? She demanded the truth from me, threatening to go to my homeland and find out for herself. I had no choice but to tell her. She refused to listen to any excuse or apology I offered. She adamantly refused to wed me and refused to give birth to a coward’s child. She rid herself of my bairn growing inside her and her father banned me from his tribe.
“With your father having banished me from ever returning home, I was forced to take shelter with a weak, menial tribe. I was treated like a slave. It wasn’t until the tribe was set upon by renegade warriors that I finally got a chance to seek my revenge by joining that renegade troop, pulling the bunch together, and leading them. Then once again I lost what I had built. Ruddock, husband to Snow’s sister, Sorrell, killed every warrior that had attacked the Sandrik village, leaving me with only two people I could truly trust.”
“Fasta,” Tarass said.
“My daughter. She is much like me, a fine warrior and an excellent marksman. She is more patient then I am. I wanted to see you dead sooner, but she convinced me it would be a weak revenge. She suggested she join your tribe and return to your homeland with you and when the time was right, we’d strike. She knew the time was right when she saw how much you loved your wife. Still though, she urged patience, telling me your thirst for coupling would see your wife with child soon, and she was right. It was also her idea to use the myth of your mum’s people, leaving fear and disruption in its wake. Though, each pool of blood told a story.”
Tarass didn’t care. He only wanted to have his wife safe in his arms, but he had no choice but to listen.
“The first one represented the revenge I got from the massacre on the Sandrik village, the arrow Fasta shot at you and purposely missed was to let you know I was coming for you. The second pool of blood was the knowledge I stole when I killed Finn and the painted man. The latter knowing that Fasta was among your clan.” He grinned. “The third and small pool of blood will bring me the most satisfaction. Do you know what it represents?”
Tarass knew. He knew as soon as Conall had said he wanted to take everything from him and he’d start with Tarass’s unborn bairn.
Conall went to speak when he suddenly turned toward the woods, as if someone had called out to him, and when he turned back again his grin had widened. “It’s time.”
Tarass went to step forward.
Conall raised his hand and shouted, “Stay where you are.”
Tarass wanted to race at him but that wouldn’t help his wife, so he halted his anxious steps. He had to fight from running to his wife when Fasta appeared, gripping Snow’s arm and giving her a shove toward Conall. He watched her stumble and fall to the ground, grabbing her stomach, and his heart nearly shattered and his fury soared.
“I’ve taken from you what you took from me—everything that means something to you—unless you can get your wife home fast enough to at least save her.” He laughed. “But then she has to reach you first… on her own without help from you.”
Tarass went to call out to her when Fasta grabbed Snow’s arm and yanked her to her feet.
“Not a word,” Conall warned and took Snow from Fasta, his thick fingers closing around her upper arm.
A short man appeared out of the woods and handed Fasta a bow and a cache of arrows and Tarass felt more helpless than he ever did, though his mind raced with possible ways to save his wife.
“Call out to your wife, make any sound or move at all, and my daughter will set an arrow on her, and she won’t miss.”
Tarass bit his tongue, fearful he’d not be able to hold it. And how could he not run to Snow? If only the distance between them was shorter, he’d have a chance of reaching her before the arrow did. But he’d never make it at this distance.
“Go to your husband, Snow,” Conall said with a laugh and shoved her toward the woods to his right.
Tarass silently cursed the man when he watched his wife take a few stumbling steps, collapse in a mound of snow, and glance around confused. The trees would appear as gray blurs to her and she wouldn’t know if he was among them. And if he dared call or move to alert her, an arrow would pierce her back. But if he didn’t do something, they both would die here. He was no fool. Conall didn’t intend to let them live.
Snow pressed her hand to her stomach, the cramps having grown dreadfully painful. She was losing the bairn. There was no denying it. And if she had swallowed too much of the liquid that had been forced on her, she would lose her life. She had to get to her husband, if it was only to have him hold her one last time.
She looked around and almost cried with joy at how clear everything appeared to her. The fuzziness that had been there was gone and while her vision blurred now and again, she still could see things almost as clearly as when she had full sight.
Relief filled her heart when she turned her head and spotted Tarass. He was a distance away and she worried she didn’t have the strength to reach him.
“You can do this, Snow. You can do this,” she heard her mum’s voice encourage in her head.
She struggled to her feet and felt a warm liquid run down her leg. She didn’t want to think about what it meant. She had to get to Tarass as fast as possible.
Her first step brought such bad cramps that she had to force herself to push through the pain to take another step, then another, thinking only of one thing, reaching her husband.
Tarass watched puzzled as his wife headed toward him. She approached him without the slightest hesitation that she was going in the wrong direction. It took a few moments watching her, seeing that she didn’t deviate her course, and there’d be only one reason for that.
She could see. Snow could see.
He was overjoyed at the thought, but his heart broke and his anger flared when he saw the trail of blood that followed behind her. She was losing the bairn and possibly her life. He had to get her home to Willow.
Snow kept silent, fearful if she said a word, she’d feel an arrow strike her back and never make it to her husband. She kept going and as she got closer, she saw her husband’s whole face for the first time and a spark of joy filled her heart. At least if she died, it would be her husband’s face she last looked upon.
Tarass kept his eyes on her and smiled, and he was pleased to see her return his smile. It confirmed that she could see him.
I love you, she mouthed.
Her words struck him like a sharp arrow to his heart. She was telling him she loved him because she thought she was dying. He wouldn’t let her die. They might lose the bairn, but he damn well wouldn’t lose her.
She was only halfway to him, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He sped toward her, yelling, “Get down.”
He was on top of her, covering her with his body right after she hit the ground, and an arrow narrowly missed his head. “Stay down,” he ordered and turned to see Conall charging hi
m, his sword raised and Fasta ready with another arrow to shoot at Snow as soon as he stood to battle Conall. But how did he battle the man without a weapon and protect this wife at the same time?
He stood, ready to do whatever he could to protect his wife and bairn, die for her or die with her.
Thaw came from out of nowhere behind Fasta, sailing through the air, launching himself at her and catching her by the throat. She barely got out a yell before the pup’s sharp teeth sank into her flesh and blood squirted everywhere.
Conall ran at the pup.
“Tarass!” He turned and saw Slatter running toward him, raising the sword in his hand to toss to Tarass.
Tarass ran and grabbed it, and before turning to face Conall, yelled, “Get Snow to Willow! She’s bleeding!”
Slatter didn’t hesitate, he scooped Snow up, held her close to his chest, and took off running.
Thaw didn’t stop tearing at Fasta until Conall was almost on top of him. His mouth was covered with blood as he ran away, leaving Fasta lying lifeless, the blood continuing to drain in a pool around her.
Conall let out a roar and seeing his daughter dead, turned, and charged at Tarass. He took only a few steps when a sharp bite to his calf had him tumbling down on the snow.
Tarass blessed the pup. It gave him enough time to reach Conall before he could stand, he having only made it to his one knee. Their swords clashed and Thaw went in for a quick bite, his teeth sinking into Conall’s backside.
Conall screamed and fell to his side, moving, though not fast enough, as Tarass’s sword came down and sliced part of his arm. He let out another scream as he scrambled to his feet, but Tarass was on him before he could steady himself, his sword catching his arm again, rendering it useless.
It wasn’t Conall’s sword arm that was damaged, and he didn’t hesitate to swing his sword, though not with his usual strength. Tarass deflected it easily. Conall stumbled, losing his footing and Tarass didn’t wait, he drove his sword through the man’s stomach.
Conall glared at him in disbelief and when Tarass pulled his sword out, Conall fell backward to the snow-covered ground. Blood began to stain the snow around him and began to gather around his mouth.
Highlander Lord of Fire Page 30