Chapter 36
Aonghus took Keirah’s hand. She has a sheen from nerves.
Giving her a tiny tug in silent reassurance, he led her from the cell, while Sir Brayden puffed up prouder than a goose.
Pausing, Aonghus locked eyes with her, the lantern’s shadows were growing wild from the swings at the waves crashing the hull. He handed her his dagger.
“You are more skilled than I,” she replied, pensive. “What weapon shall you grasp?”
Her eyes grew when he pulled the necklace won from the Northman from under his mail and tunic.
It was keeping in wait for the time to come since they left Ayr.
This is that moment. The linked chain was thick as his fingers and the solid medallion wide as his fist. The right amount of force and pressure to the skull would do nicely to kill an opponent with one lash. Ready, Kollungr?
“My Cluaran,” he advised somberly, “I will take point; you stay by my side or to my back and if possible, keep your eyes lowered; I do not wish for you to see the deaths twofold.”
“Twofold?” Sir Brayden murmured, confused, before he darted his eyes between them, disbelief echoing in his question: “My lady, you still harbor the gift of fate-seer?”
“Aye,” she answered. “This storm will wound King H?konsson’s fleet beyond redemption.” She turned her attention back toward Aonghus.
The chain swung in his clutched fist. “Before our ascent to the main deck, there is one matter in need of tending,” Aonghus declared, his nose flared as if smelling blood on the horizon.
Her eyes widened more. “MacCade, leave him; let his ship take him with Sv?rn and Torsten,” she pleaded.
He ran his finger over her delicate furrowed brow. “Nae, my lady, not this time. He dies at my hand.” Right now.
“The guards Sir James…”
“Will already see us from the passage even if Torsten or Sv?rn do not call us out in reveal,” he interrupted her softly while a cask rolled by after the floor pitched sideways. “Stay directly behind me, agreed?”
For a second, she held silent. Would she protest?
Finally, a tiny nod was her reply. Leaning in, he stole a severe kiss.
Sir Brayden gave an ahem; it brought him back to the present.
The promise their first night after handfasting, that he would protect her with everything he was then trench deeper into his soul for more, came to pass right now.
She will walk away from this no matter what it takes.
A dagger was in Sir Brayden’s hand, along with an oar he retrieved off the planks in the other.
The pair of Scottish knights stood as a shield wall before her, navigating the passageway, which was growing more treacherous by the moment from swinging debris being tossed side to side like dried leaves in a fall gust at the storm’s fury.
Watch the rolling cask! He paused a step.
His lashes narrowed. Strange. Crimson was running over the floor planks.
Had a wine cask broken? Blood. There was a bloody river which gushed across the rough wood, mixed with seawater.
What was the source? The source caused a gasp from Keirah, who was peeking around his shoulder.
Torsten’s throat had been slit while he was still tied onto the post, alongside the two slain guards on the ground outside the entrance to Kollungr’s empty cabin.
The gaping door was swinging wildly as if announcing a demon had escaped.
Fuk.
Hairs on his neck prickled; his muscles coiled like a wolf as his eyes searched the shadowy corners encircling them.
There were infinite places to hide outside the murky lantern’s light in this hold.
Where? Where was the Northern falcon? Kollungr would never have left her behind in his disturbing quest.
“Hold steady,” Aonghus ordered Sir Brayden, who lowered his stance. The friend may give airs regarding mirth, but in battle he was trained to slay; it was the main purpose he belonged to King Alexander’s personal guard.
“Why does he not charge if he is present?” Sir Brayden murmured about the tactic.
“’Tis his way,” she whispered, haunted. “Fálki savors the hunt and torments his prey. I am certain he sees us this very moment.”
His eyes darted again about the hold while Keirah’s weight slumped against his spine slightly. Shite! A shadow-glance! Kollungr had to be near and about to attack, and she was exposed within her ‘glanced’ state.
She came back to the present when her fist gripped his tunic’s hem under his chainmail. “Hear me, Lord Karlson Kollungr!” Her scream vented the air. “I am nae longer afraid of you! HEAR ME! I AM NOT AFRAID OF YOU!”
Keirah’s voice turned a whisper on a breath for the knights’ ears alone. “At the far wall with Sv?rn, Kollungr is set to attack from behind; they are armed with the swords taken from the guards and he has crewmen flanking him.”
“How many total?” Sir Brayden questioned.
“Four,” she answered, his friend gave a hissing breath at the dire odds.
“We must lead them onto the main deck,” Aonghus instructed. “We do not hold a chance in hand-to-hand battle tight as we are. The waves will aid and distract. Be ready to bolt for the stairs before us.”
As soon as the words left his lips, a deafening battle wail echoed from the falcon and his warriors when they emerged out of the shadows with glinting steel in their grips.
Sir Brayden cleared the way, throwing open the passageway door onto the main deck.
Don’t risk Keirah tripping on her gown’s hem.
Aonghus wrapped his arm around her waist, hauling her before him.
Her feet clear off the ground, he flew up the stairs three at a time with a massive lunge to outrun the trap.
Slamming the passageway doors shut, Sir Brayden pressed the oar through the handles, locking the horde inside.
As they turned, the chaos which greeted them called to mind that if hell were made from water, this would be the sight.
Where was everyone? It was a ghost ship.
Snap, snap! The single square sail viciously billowed back and forth, sounding like the devil snapping his fingers.
The handful of crewmen left were battling the anchor’s line near the bow.
Get her secure first. Where?! Charging for the ship’s core, he set her feet near the mast to yell over the roaring surf, “Cluaran, hold onto the mast!” He snatched a rope dangling to spin it over her wrists, tying her onto the mast. Before he snagged the rope’s final knot, she leaned heavily against the once mighty tree. Another shadow-glance?
Aonghus brushed his fingers gently over Keirah’s soaked brow. You will be safe here, Cluaran. Her eyes were still closed while his ears caught movement approaching behind her. That had to be the origins of the shadow-glance. The crewmen.
“Sir Brayden!” Aonghus motioned toward the crewmen having spotted them.
Sir Brayden warned, facing the opposite way toward the passageway they had escaped from, “Aonghus, ’tis not only the enemy charging!”
Aonghus glanced over his shoulder. Oh shite! The oar holding the doors had snapped! “Take the anchor crewmen,” Aonghus declared. “I claim Kollungr directly!” Sir Brayden nodded before sailing across the deck with the dagger while he also grabbed a broken board washing over the planks.
Darting his gaze toward the narrow passageway, Aonghus saw the first of Kollungr’s guardsmen, one wide as a sea monster, who began racing toward him. Taking the medallion from his neck, he approached halfway; his steps halted at the forewarn behind him.
“Aonghus!” Her scream caught his ears. “Take hold onto this rope! A wave will be sweeping you from the deck!”
He heard the warning. Shite, he wasn’t the only one. Kollungr. The Northern captor stood in the passageway’s shadowy entrance, his eyes popped wide. The northern falcon knows.
“Keirah,” Kollungr viciously vowed, gripping the edges of the wooded frame, “your talents will soon be mine once more! TAKE HER!” he ordered the sea monster.
“Aonghus, LEAVE HIM!” she countered.
Shite! Aonghus pivoted as a wall of water reaching up to heaven’s gate appeared.
Throwing the chain over his neck he dove for the mast; his fingers burned grabbing the ropes circling the mast. He covered her with his body as the wave crashed onto the deck, the sheer force like a granite curtain wall collapsing, trying to rip their flesh.
Spluttering, Keirah coughed the words, “Keep…holding…”
Looking, he discovered Kollungr – The sadist! – had ordered his guard to a watery doom. “Nooo!” the sea creature bellowed, scrambling, but he was swept over the deck and out into the storm’s mountains, appearing as if an ancient ocean god conjured the life-snatching tides himself.
“Keirah!” Kollungr’s voice cut the salty spray like a blade from the sanctuary of the passageway. “You will not escape!” She will – but Kollungr won’t.
He checked the knot upon her wrists – still holding. He ripped the chain from his neck then rolled on his heels toward the passageway. Mind the slickness on the boards; use it as an advantage to unleash back upon the Northmen.
“Slay him!” Kollungr ordered a thick warrior with the palest flaxen hair and a long snout nose, appearing more polar bear than Northman.
The bear took the lead, directly charging at him.
Uncurling the chain at his side, he spun the flail-like weapon with a pace to rival the spray landing over them.
When the warrior raised his sword, Aonghus ducked, the hiss from the blade cutting water right over his skull.
The warrior’s face was now exposed. Whack it!
Aonghus spun his weapon back around with such force – thud – it took the warrior’s eye and half his temple gushing off his face before his corpse spun from the slick deck, lost into the waves.
One slayed, two left. Advance to the grave, Northmen!