Chapter 11
Days had passed. Logan was still in the healer’s quarters. The bed was more comfortable than the one he had been used to, but that made it more difficult to sleep. The nights were restless and he was haunted by nightmares.
In one of them he was standing near the pit, this time gazing into it rather than out. Abigail was kneeling in the middle of the pit, mud caked to her hands and hair, her dress tattered. It was raining and she seemed to be sinking into the mud. His father was beside him.
“Gae on, save her. If ye love her sae much prove it and save her,” Warnock taunted.
Logan looked down, but his feet had sunk into the ground and the mud was up to his knees.
He tried to move, using all his strength to push against the mud, but there was no give.
He could feel his toes wiggling in his boot, but it was as though his movement had no effect at all.
He looked down to see the mud rising around Abigail. The lower half of her body disappeared.
“What are ye waiting for, hero?” Warnock taunted again.
“Why dinnae ye help her? Why are ye just standing there?” Logan called out.
Warnock kept laughing, the evil sound merging with the howling wind.
The rain pelted down. Logan took his sword and slammed it against the ground around his feet, but his blows did nothing.
He might as well have been swiping at them with air.
The rain fell more heavily and the mud rose, as though a shadow was consuming her.
It covered her rising arms and her desperate, outstretched fingers disappeared, then it came up to her neck and as she tilted her head back, the veil of hair was parted only to reveal the face of another.
Beitris.
She screamed his name. It echoed through his mind and made his heart reverberate.
“Kill her!” Warnock rasped.
Logan looked down. There was a bow in one hand and an arrow in another. The rain looked like tears as they poured down Beitris’ cheeks. Logan’s hands trembled.
Then he awoke with a gasp.
He clutched his chest before rubbing his eyes.
He breathed deeply to still his racing heart and stretched out his legs.
His muscles were becoming restless and lying in this bed was becoming interminable.
It was playing tricks on his mind and he was eager to return to training.
He waited until the healers came by for their morning rounds.
“It is high time I returned to the field, dinnae ye think?”
“These wounds take their time, warrior. Rest for the day at least.”
He tested the movements of his arm. While there was still some pain, it was nothing he couldn’t endure. So he discharged himself.
He threw off the blanket and strode away, ignoring the healer’s cries to stay and wait.
“Make me,” Logan replied gruffly, and his words were met with despairing looks.
He marched out, feeling better as the morning air caressed his cheeks. The familiar sounds of dueling calmed his mind, and when he felt the weight of his sword in his hand, he breathed a little easier. The nightmare and other troubling thoughts could be pushed away from his mind.
“What are ye daeing here? Ye should be making use of the rest. I ken I would be,” Brody chastised Logan lightly as Logan approached.
“That’s because ye are lazy,” Logan replied.
“I just ken how tae make the most out of my energy and time,” Brody replied, then looked at Logan’s wound. A serious look came upon his face. “Are ye sure ye are ready tae be training?”
“Aye, it’s naething,” Logan said, making a show of extending his arm and twisting his body. He’d become skilled at masking his pain. “Besides, I cannae waste time sitting in bed. The sooner I can take on my new duties, the better.”
“Aye. Hae Beitris spoken tae ye more?” Brody asked.
Logan shook his head. He wondered if he should be troubled by her absence. He wouldn’t have been surprised if she were trying to make a point or trying to convince the others that she should be made captain while he was absent and could not promote himself.
“Well, I hae been keeping an eye on her. She hae been here every day, fighting like a demon. She’s been demanding bigger and stronger opponents.
I think she wants tae test herself in case she comes up against someone like Mikkel again.
Look.” He nodded past Logan’s shoulder. Logan watched as Beitris called over a guard.
“She’s ordered them tae fight her with everything they hae. She dinnae want any of them tae gae easy on her. Last night she walked away with a limp.”
“She is a fool.”
Brody waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Ach, she is nae in any real danger. None of them would dare hurt her. They would nae want the wrath of the Laird.”
Logan watched on, remaining unconvinced.
The man with whom Beitris was currently dueling had thick arms, legs like tree trunks, and a torso to match.
He was like a giant of old, muscles rippling with strength, grunting and growling.
Beitris looked so small compared to him and Logan’s heart pitched, unable to shirk the sensation of worry.
“I need tae stop this,” he muttered.
“She will nae thank ye for it,” Brody said, but Logan was already moving towards Beitris.
When he arrived, the giant was bringing his sword down in great swings, hammering Beitris’ blade.
Her legs were bent and two hands clasped her sword as she held it above her head, straining to bear the force of her opponent’s blows.
Her face glistened with sweat and it seemed as though she was sinking deeper and deeper into the ground.
Logan strode up.
“Stop,” he cried, and then flashed his sword through the air.
The giant turned around, forced to defend himself.
The impact sent Logan twisting around. He could feel the wound being ripped open and grit his teeth, swallowing the pain.
The giant kicked out at Logan, but Logan shifted to the side and threw himself against the man, barging him with his shoulder and all of his weight.
The giant staggered back and Logan pressed the advantage, striking at the man’s leg.
He managed to nick skin in between leather guards and then brought his sword around in an arc.
“I yield, I yield!” the giant muttered, dropping his sword and holding up his hands.
Logan drew his sword back. He was breathing intensely and his hands were trembling. The pain caused dark spots to flash at the corners of his vision. The giant muttered as he slunk away, clearly Logan’s reputation was enough to bring a duel to an end.
But that would not be the last duel of the day.
“What are ye daeing? I dinnae need ye tae fight my battles for me,” Beitris snapped.
Logan turned, faced with her angry expression.
Her eyes were wild and her sword was still drawn.
Logan set his feet, just in case he needed to defend himself.
However, when he looked into her eyes he was momentarily stunned as he thought about his nightmare.
He saw her face screaming at him in anguish, and it served to distract him.
“Clearly I do. Otherwise, it’s only a matter of time until ye get yerself killed. Did ye learn naething from the battle?”
She had an indignant look on her face. “Aye, which is why I’m training against bigger opponents. It’s the only way I am gaeing tae learn.”
“Ye should stand back and stick tae what ye are good at.”
“If I am tae lead then I need tae fight in any way I can. I will nae stand back with the archers while ye lead the front. Ye are only undermining my strength when ye interfere. Ye just want tae make me look bad, is that it?”
“It dinnae bother me how ye look,” he snapped.
“Ye are worried because I will make a better captain than ye.”
“Nae if ye are reckless and get yerself killed.”
“Ye are the one that hae been with the healers.”
“Aye, because otherwise ye would be dead.”
“Ye dinnae ken that.”
“I hae seen enough battles tae ken when someone will nae make it. Ye should gae and clear yer mind with the bow. It will help ye calm down. Ye are letting yer emotions get the better of ye again.”
Beitris trembled with fury and she thrust out a hand, shoving Logan with all her might. He didn’t think she intended to touch his wounded area, but that’s where she touched. A blinding pain coursed through his body, emanating from the wound.
He gasped and bent over, holding his wound.
“Ye dinnae give me orders,” Beitris said as she pushed him.
“I am yer commander,” he grunted.
Beitris then softened when she realized that she hurt him. The venom disappeared from her words and she approached him again, but this time as she would approach a wounded bird, cautiously. She touched his shoulder. He did not flinch as her hand rested upon him.
“I will nae take orders from ye,” she said softly. “Come, sit. As a Knox, I order ye.”
Logan gritted his teeth, too busy bearing the pain to lash out with a rejoinder. He walked slowly to a bench and lowered himself down.
“I would ask why the healers let ye gae if ye were nae ready, but I can imagine ye ignored their advice and marched out,” she said.
Logan averted his gaze, annoyed at how accurate she was. “There was nae reason for me tae stay there. I was only wasting time.”
“Healing is nae a waste of time. If ye move too swiftly ye can make things worse,” she said.
She pulled away his tunic. The dressing had come away, torn apart by his movements.
She sighed and made sure that it was tightly pressed against his skin.
Her touch was gentle, and it reminded him of the way Abigail had treated his wounds whenever he stumbled and grazed his knee or bit his lip as a kid.
Those were childish injuries, the pain of which had seemed intense in the moment but had now faded along with so many other memories.
He didn’t deserve this kindness, but he was glad to receive it.
Beitris’ dark curls brushed against the side of his face.
Her breath washed over his neck. Her scent prickled the air and he felt himself trembling.
Her fingers glided along his skin. All of these things most decidedly did not remind him of Abigail.
There was a heat to Beitris’ touch and presence, as though she were a source of warmth that whispered a hint of summer.
Tingles ran beneath the surface of his skin, and he felt an itch that he could not scratch.
He tried to push them away, but with her being so close it was impossible, and he felt weaker than he had in years.
“I’m tired of being treated as fragile by everyone around me. None of ye men believe I can hold my own,” she muttered.
“It’s nae that ye are fragile. It’s that ye are important.”
Beitris snorted in response.
“Ye bear the Knox name. I am naething. I am expendable. If I die there are a dozen warriors waiting tae take my place, but if ye perish… how would yer parents replace a daughter? It cannae be done,” he said, his voice catching on emotion.
He cleared his throat, hoping that she was too preoccupied to notice.
“Given the way people speak of ye I dinnae think that’s true. People admire ye, Logan, and Da would nae hae made ye part of the personal guard if he dinnae think he could trust ye.”
“Aye, but I am who I am because of my sword. Without it, I am naething. I hae nae kin, nae land, nae wealth. If it weren’t for my deeds in battle I would be forgotten like a passing storm.”
Beitris placed her hands on his shoulders and looked at him directly. He was taken aback by the emotion in her eyes. They were so close to each other that he could see the flecks of color in her irises. It was as though they had caught sunlight and jewels and other precious things.
“I hae never believed that about anyone, and I dinnae believe it about ye. Every person hae their own story, and each person makes their mark during their lives. I ken Warnock took everything away from ye, but this war will be over and when it is, the just among us will be standing tall. We are the ones who get tae build a world after this and ye can be a part of that.”
Logan barked a disbelieving laugh. “What place dae a warrior hae in a world of peace?”
“Ye can be more than a warrior. Ye can be whatever ye want tae be. We each hae the freedom tae make our own choices, and I will nae hear ye diminish yerself like this. I ken we argue, but I am nae fool. I ken I would hae died without ye, but there is something I need tae ken, Logan. Is Da right tae trust ye?”
She searched his eyes. He fixed his gaze upon her. He might not have been holding a bow and arrow as he had been in his dream, but he did have the power to condemn her to a grim life filled with despair. He could betray all the faith she placed in him.
“Aye,” he replied.
The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but he would not feed her suspicions. His eyes were unblinking and for a moment the two of them were connected in a profound way. He feared that she might peer so deeply into his soul that she would see the truth, and suddenly he would be the one in danger.
But that didn’t happen.
Instead, she did something that he hadn’t expected and could not prepare for. She placed her hands against his cheeks and kissed him. Her lips were soft against, yet the kiss deepened. There wasn’t even space for breath between their skin, and Logan’s mind exploded with different sensations.
Her kiss was grounding, illuminating, and terrifying.
It stirred feelings he had always guarded against and felt like someone had thrust a flaming sword into the middle of his chest. He came alive in a way that he had never done before, and even though only their lips were connected, it felt as though she was touching every inch of him.
But while the kiss was sweet for him, to her he knew it was poison.
He wasn’t the person she thought he was.
He pulled away, pretending that his wound was bothering him. Beitris stepped back, a confused look on her face.
“That’s a cheap way of trying tae get me tae concede authority,” he said.
Beitris’ cheeks turned a bright red. He knew that he’d offended her, humiliated her, but it was necessary. She’d gotten too close. He couldn’t allow himself to feel these things.
“That’s nae why…” she began, but then trailed away.
“Dinnae waste yerself on me, lass. I doubt I will outlive this war,” he muttered without looking at her.
He knew that if he met her eyes again he might tell her everything, he might lose himself in her and forget everything he held dear. His lips burned as he walked away, and he knew that he wasn’t endangered by his sword but by his feelings for Beitris.