Page 132 of Come the Morning

“Nay, that came from the other man; it was a strike on the head that felled me!” Angus said, shaking his head disgustedly then. “I shouldn’t have failed you, but when I saw that it was Daro—”

“Daro!” Waryk swore.

“Aye, I know Daro’s armor, his helmet, his surcoat. I guarded you, but I knew that Mellyora had written her uncle, and was not surprised that he had come to meet you on your journey northward. But …” His voice trailed away. “They tried to kill you, too,” he said huskily. “My God. The Lady Mellyora …”

“She’s gone; he has her.”

“He seized her?”

Waryk’s eyes narrowed. “I can only hope. Can you stand, Angus? Are you injured? I’ve got to get to the men, and ride toDaro’s camp. We’re not far from the mainland off Blue Isle. I shall send Eleanora there, and you may accompany her—”

“Not this time, Laird Waryk. I am fine enough. When you go to battle, I go as well.”

Waryk nodded rather than argue. “Thomas will take her along with Tyler and Geoffrey, I think. And Peter will have his own escort, I’m certain. Let’s get moving.”

Eleanora had just gone to her camp bed for the night; Peter had remained awake by the fire, and he was ready and anxious to move when he heard that Mellyora had been seized by her own uncle in a power play by the Viking. Waryk explained that they would send Eleanora with his men, and that she should go now, despite the night. The moon would be enough of a guide, and his men knew the exact trails to take.

“Waryk, I am so sorry,” Eleanora told him as he said goodbye to her.

“Aye,” he said rather curtly.

She shook her head, watching him. “Waryk, it was no trap. She has not planned against you, or betrayed you to her uncle, of that I’m certain.”

“Oh?”

She touched his cheek gently. “You should have seen her face when she watched you. She loves you very much. More than I do, even.”

He found that he could smile suddenly. He took Eleanora’s hand, and kissed it, holding it tightly for a moment. “Thank you for that,” he told her. “Jon of Wick guards the gates at the fortress; ask first for Ewan MacKinny when you reach the village at the shore. He’ll see to your safety.”

Eleanora nodded. She and her guard started into the night. Waryk turned grimly to his own horse.

It was time to fight Daro.

Mellyora didn’t stop. She didn’t have time to stop. She knew that she was killing the great destrier, but she had to force the horse onward through the night at breakneck speed.

Come the morning, she was frozen to the animal, exhausted, and very afraid. But just as dawn broke, she cleared the top of a cliff and could see the village below, and across from it, out across the foam-tipped sea, Blue Isle and her fortress. With a glad cry, she went tearing down the cliff, shouting for help.

It was Ewan, using a stick to help him walk, who threw open the new gates to the village enclosure so that she could race through. Other villagers burst from their cottages; Phagin, his robes flapping in the breeze, hurried out as well. Igraina was there, and when she fell, like an icicle, from the horse, babbling about what had happened, it was Igraina who wrapped her in her own cloak, and helped her to stand when she would have fallen.

“We must get something warm into her immediately,” Phagin said.

“Wine, warmed on the fire, quick, Grandmother,” Igraina said, leading Mellyora into the cottage. Ewan sat before Mellyora. She was wrapped in Igraina’s cloak, and a wool blanket. She was warmed by the fire. A cup was placed in her hands. She drank deeply from it. The wine was good. It went throughout her body. Warmed her. Her lips ceased to tremble. She stared at them all, shaking. “I don’t know the man’s name … it isn’t Daro, Ewan, we’ve got to get someone to Waryk fast, because it isn’t Daro, but he stole Daro’s clothing. His helmet, his—”

“How could this person steal Daro’s belongings?” Igraina asked.

“I don’t know!” Mellyora said. “He has to be someone that Daro—trusts.” She drank more wine, then stared at Igraina. “That’s it, it’s someone Daro has reason to trust. He wants tokill Waryk … he tried to kill him. This man is meeting someone. Someone named Renfrew—”

“Renfrew?” Phagin said sharply.

“Aye.”

Phagin started for the door to the cottage.

“Phagin!” Mellyora called, but he hadn’t intended to walk out with an explanation. At the door he turned back to them. “Lord Renfrew attacked MacInnish land a little more than a decade ago. He slaughtered farmers, tradesmen, and peasants. He had an army of Viking mercenaries who were promised great riches when he prevailed. Renfrew and most of the Vikings were killed, many of them by a lad the king took on as his ward—your husband, Mellyora. Renfrew and his men had slaughtered his whole family that day. Waryk avenged his kin—this Viking is out to avenge his. His methods are as bloodthirsty and treacherous as those used by his father and Renfrew. I will reach Waryk and Daro. No one will stop a priest, and the countryside could be very dangerous now. Mellyora, get to the fortress immediately. You are your father’s daughter. Renfrew and this Viking—his name is Hallsteader, by the way, Ulric Hallsteader, known as Broadsword—will be coming to attack Blue Isle.”

“Hallsteader!” Mellyora cried, leaping up. “Hallsteader. Anne’s father was a Hallsteader, he must have—”

“Aye, he must have used Anne. It’s no matter now. She is surely as innocent as a babe in this, Mellyora. I’m going. Get to the fortress.”