11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
“Your majesty, the queen didn’t return from her walk below the cliffs.”
Every morning his new wife sought out the ancient grove of twisted trees that stood on the headland and the stone strewn sand below. She said she felt closer to Freyja, and her prayers to the goddess were more potent because of the old magic that dwelt in the roots.
Brunhild’s independent spirit hadn’t changed since the consummation, and Toran knew he’d feel her wrath if he hovered or followed her too closely.
He stayed out of sight when he watched over her.
That morning, he hadn’t followed her. His war leader had wanted to discuss strategy for the attack they knew was coming.
The spies who had infiltrated the Kraken Court hadn’t been able to report details, but they’d confirmed an incursion was imminent.
If his enemies had kidnapped his mate, he would raze them to the ground.
Even now, he fought the instinct to transform and track down her kidnappers.
He was certain that’s what had befallen her. She was always armed to the teeth and was a force to be reckoned with, but if they had ambushed her, she wouldn’t have been able to fight all of them off at once.
After their dire warning, her captors had thrown a sack over her head and tied her wrists behind her back.
When Brunhild heard the lap of waves, a knot of panic unfurled in her gut.
They were taking her somewhere unfamiliar and she’d have to save herself from their intentions.
She’d been taken because of her each uisge husband, and but she didn’t plan on remaining in their clutches long enough to become bait.
They pushed her forward and her knees banged against the stern of the boat. One of her captors caught her by grabbing the trailing end of the rope around her wrists, and viciously wrenched it. She didn’t fall face first, but she could feel the blood trickling down her arms from the rough treatment.
“I am a queen and a chieftain’s daughter, I’d be more careful if I were you,” she haughtily said. She knew her status didn’t matter to them, but if they thought she was nothing more than a pampered prize, perhaps she could chisel her way through their defenses.
“Ye’re nothin’ more than a bitch in heat with your blade between your teeth,” one of her captors said with an evil laugh.
“Aye,” another one said. “And the Kraken king likes nothing better than bringing bitches to heel.”
They all broke into raucous laughter at that, and even as their words raised her hackles, Brunhild bit her tongue. Her antagonism had worked.
She closed her eyes and rubbed the sigil on her bound wrist against her tunic, muttering her warlord’s name under her breath. He’d said it bound them, and his beast would heed her call.
One of the men cuffed her shoulder, nearly toppling her again. “What’s that you’re sayin’, bitch?”
She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I was saying you’ll regret this. My king will come after you and rip your throats out.”
One of them, who seemed to be the leader, tsked. “No, he won’t. You’re bait, you Viking bitch, and he’ll fall right into our trap.”
From everything she’d witnessed of her mate, Brunhild knew he was too cunning to fall for their ploy.
She also knew that he wouldn’t jeopardize his kingdom by letting anger or a quest for vengeance rule his actions.
He had a cadre of spies and assassins whose sole mission was to infiltrate the Kraken kingdom and he’d wield them to his advantage.
These men were idiots if they thought Toran Lir would fall into their trap.
He would not.
She had no doubt her rescue was imminent, but it would be cloaked by night and shrouded in shadows. Stealthy instead of brazen. Her husband would steal her from right under their noses.
Despite her certainty of rescue, Brunhild was not the kind of woman who sat on her hands and refused to use the tools and strengths at her disposal.
She’d escape of her own volition if she was able.
When she straightened her shoulders and put on an affronted air, the men laughed uproariously.
Cathassach’s brow was furrowed when he strode into the throne room. “You summoned me? I heard rumors but hoped they were nothing more than that.”
Tor raked his hands through his hair, dislodging the topknot in his frustration. “Aye, Cath, I summoned you. A gull showed up on my windowsill to deliver the Kraken king’s message.”
His spymaster scowled. “Then the rumors are true and your queen has been taken by that piece offal?”
“He’s foolishly asked me to ransom my kingdom, and the sacred caves, or forfeit her life.”
The sacred caves held the wealth of the each uisge kingdom and the spark of light from the ancient sea god who had created their kind.
Toran and his spies hadn’t been able to discern his reasons for wanting the caves, but Tor suspected it had something to do with the king’s desire to use the godspark to claim dominion over all the wide open waters.
“You have a plan to thwart him?”
“I do. Although I harbor no doubts about her ability to fend for herself, and possibly escape from her predicament, we need to mount a rescue mission before Nidhogg decides to make an example of her.”
“From what I’ve heard of your wife, she’ll make her captors wish they’d never been born.”
Tor smiled, grim but proud. His berserker wife was a force to be reckoned with and he knew she’d do exactly that.
She’d been honed by adversity and neglect in her father’s court and it had shaped her into a deadly weapon.
It would take far more than an arrogant king and his delusions of grandeur to break her spirit.
“She’ll ensure they suffer, and their misery will bring her great joy.
And may all their gods protect them when she seeks retribution for their gall in daring to abduct her. ”
Cath nodded agreeably. “I've heard of the way she wields her bow and ax, and the mercenary foot soldiers refuse to meet her in the training ring because they say she is without mercy and makes no distinction between play and war.”
Tor shrugged, because he was beginning to understand the depths of both his wife’s ferocity and loyalty. “Her life has been a testament to surviving fire and storm — even more than mine or yours. ‘Tis no wonder she’s fearsome to behold.”
“So you have a plan for extricating her? Even though she’s likely to figure out how to escape on her own?”
“I do. Your man is in place, aye?”
Cath smirked. “Not man, woman. She’s posing as one of Nidhogg’s concubines. And yes, she’s in place and prepared to carry out your directive.”
“Can ye somehow get her assigned to Brunhild?”
“Aye, consider it done.”
“You trust this spy?”
“She’s one of my best. She’ll make sure we’re able to enter the fortress unseen and undetected.”
“Excellent,” Tor said as he steepled his hands over his head and sprawled more comfortably on the wooden throne.
He could feel the tension in his shoulders and neck brought on by the constant worry.
He’d mistakenly thought some of that burden would be eased by his alliance with the Berserker King, but instead his cares had multiplied.
Despite his words to Cath, he was worried about the shield maiden, especially when he recalled the way her face had softened as she arced beneath his touch.
In the glow of soft candlelight and the hiss of dripping wax, beneath the weight of the furs that cocooned his bed, she’d become an entirely different woman.
He yearned for the chance to find out what else she was hiding behind her prickly exterior and shield of thorns.
“When should we make our move?”
“There’s a new moon in two nights, and there’ll be less chance of discovery.”
“I’ll get word to Lysandra that she needs to be ready.”
Tor rose from his seat. “We need to be armed to the teeth in case there’s any difficulty.”
“I’ll raid the arsenal and let you know if Donnegan needs to create anything.”
Donnegan was the royal swordsmith and a master at his craft. He’d been one of the first in the islands to forge iron, and because many of Nidhogg’s allies carried fae blood, Donnegan’s weapons had proven invaluable in battle against the Kraken horde.
“I’ll come with you. I need a new shield and I can let the smith know what I require.”