Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Torden
Sorcha stopped the moment her front hooves struck the wooden gangplank.
Torden nearly walked into her. “Come on, lass.”
The dapple-gray mare didn't move.
Men passed them carrying crates and sacks aboard the ship bound for Morra Mist. Sailors called to one another from the deck, ropes creaked, wood groaned, and waves slapped against the hull.
None of it was unfamiliar to Sorcha.
That was what troubled Torden. She had traveled aboard ships with him before and had never given him difficulty. She might not have cared for being confined below, but she had always followed him willingly.
Today she refused to take another step.
Torden ran a reassuring hand along her neck. “You've done this before.”
Sorcha tossed her head and backed away from the gangplank.
Torden grew concerned. Something was wrong.
He gave her a moment before trying again, walking beside her rather than leading from ahead. She trusted him enough to follow, though every step seemed reluctant. By the time they reached the deck, her body was tense beneath his hand.
A sailor approached and motioned toward the opening that led below.
“Horses go beneath.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Torden snapped so sharply that sailor hurried off.
He wanted to give Sorcha a bit of time to settle before taking her below, but with all the boarding activity he couldn’t stay there long.
A few more minutes, then Torden started forward.
Sorcha didn't.
He looked back at her. Her ears flattened and she pulled against the reins.
“Sorcha,” he said, his voice holding a command.
The mare backed away.
Now he was concerned.
She knew that tone of his meant she was to obey for both their safety. She also knew ships. She knew the cramped quarters below deck and had endured far longer crossings than the one ahead of them. Yet she was behaving as though he intended to lead her straight into danger.
Torden moved closer and rubbed her neck. “What is it, lass?”
Sorcha's dark eyes remained fixed on the opening.
Then a familiar voice rose above the activity on deck.
“You bloody idiot.”
Torden went still, then slowly turned his head.
The young woman from the inn, Ismera, stood several yards away arguing with one of the sailors.
“Of course she did,” he grumbled and looked at Sorcha. “Don't worry. I won’t let the troublesome lass near you.”
Sorcha's ears suddenly pricked forward.
Torden scowled. Ismera had spotted him and that had brought her debate with the sailor to an abrupt halt.
For one hopeful moment, Torden thought she might ignore him, angry for dumping her on her backside outside the inn and she would turn in the opposite direction. He wasn’t that lucky.
She headed straight for him
She looked different from the last time he’d seen her.
Gone was the gown covered in mud and horse piss.
A tartan skirt fell to her ankles, and over a linen shirt she wore a brown leather vest cinched firmly across her chest. Brown leather bracers covered her forearms, giving her an appearance far more suited to travel than the bedraggled woman who had stormed into the inn.
She was more petite and her eyes a more vivid blue than he recalled, and judging by the determined set of her mouth, she was still troublesome.
Torden braced himself for whatever complaint she intended to throw at him, but when Ismera reached him, she barely spared him a glance. Her attention went immediately to Sorcha.
“What’s wrong with her?”
The concern in her voice surprised him.
“She doesn’t want to go below.”
Ismera looked toward the opening that led beneath the deck, then back at Sorcha. Without asking permission, she stepped closer and ran her hand slowly along the mare’s neck.
“Easy, beautiful,” Ismera murmured. “I wouldn’t want to go down there either.”
Sorcha turned her head toward her.
Ismera continued stroking her, speaking softly, the words meant more to soothe than to be understood. Sorcha’s ears shifted forward and some of the tension eased from her body.
Torden stared at his mare. She always followed his lead, obeyed his orders, well maybe mostly, and there was no reason being on the ship should cause her distress. And no reason to calm at the touch of a complete stranger.
Ismera glanced at him. “What’s her name?”
“Sorcha.”
“Sorcha,” she repeated softly, rubbing beneath the mare’s jaw. “A lovely name for a lovely lass.”
Sorcha nudged her.
Torden scowled.
Ismera smiled and continued to stroke her neck. “You don’t want to be shut away down there, do you?”
Sorcha gave a soft snort.
“Don’t encourage her,” he cautioned.
Ismera ignored him.
Torden should have expected that, and before he realized what she intended, Ismera took the reins from his hand.
His scowl deepened. “What are you doing?”
“Taking Sorcha below.”
He restrained himself from laughing. “She won’t go with you.”
“We’ll see.”
The confidence in her voice annoyed him, and he folded his arms across his chest. “You really think you can get her down there when I couldn’t?”
Ismera looked at him with amusement. “Aye.”
She turned and walked toward the opening.
Sorcha followed.
Torden stared after them. The mare—his mare—who moments ago had planted all four hooves firmly against the deck now walked calmly beside Ismera.
“Gods’ teeth,” he grumbled and followed them below.
The air was warm and the light dimmer beneath the deck, heavy with the smells of wood, rope, hay, and animals. Several open stalls had been built along one side to secure the horses during the crossing.
Ismera led Sorcha into one of them without difficulty.
Torden watched as she ran a hand along the mare’s side before giving her neck another gentle stroke. Sorcha stood calmly while Ismera spoke softly to her, showing none of the fear that had troubled her above.
It made no sense.
Torden entered the stall and checked the restraints himself. Everything was secure. Sorcha appeared perfectly content.
“She needed soothing, not ordering.”
Torden turned his head slowly toward her.
Ismera smiled. “Men rarely understand females, whether horse or human. And they understand even less about how to soothe us when we need it.”
Before Torden could answer, she slipped past him and walked away.
He watched her disappear up the steps. Then he turned to Sorcha.
The mare calmly began nibbling at the hay.
Torden glared at her. “Traitor.”
The crossing to Morra Mist took less than two days and, much to Torden’s surprise, passed without incident.
He hadn’t seen Ismera again after she left Sorcha below deck. More than once he had expected to hear raised voices, a crash, or some other commotion and know without looking that the troublesome lass was responsible.
Nothing.
The sea remained calm, the weather favorable, and no one appeared to have been thrown overboard.
Torden considered the journey a success.
The ship had barely finished tying off at the port in Morra Mist when Torden brought Sorcha up from below. The mare seemed pleased to be back in the fresh air and even more eager to feel solid ground beneath her hooves.
Torden shared the feeling.
Getting off the ship proved slower than he would have liked. Sailors were unloading cargo while passengers crowded toward the gangplank, forcing Torden to keep Sorcha close and wait for an opening.
That was when he spotted Ismera.
She was already on the dock, several yards from the ship, speaking with a man.
Nay, arguing with him.
He should have known the uneventful crossing was too good to last.
The man had considerable size to him, standing well over Ismera and broad enough through the shoulders to make the difference between them impossible to ignore. Whatever Ismera said only seemed to anger him more. The man stepped closer, his face reddening as he jabbed a finger toward her.
He had no idea what Ismera had done to make the man so angry, though after their brief acquaintance he could imagine several possibilities. Still, she was a woman, a very petite one at that, and the man confronting her had enough size to do her considerable harm.
“Come on, Sorcha.”
He urged the mare forward, but a sailor carrying a crate crossed directly in front of them. Another horse was being led up the gangplank, slowing everything further.
Torden looked back toward Ismera.
The man reached for her.
“Move,” Torden ordered the sailor ahead of him.
He had barely managed another few steps when Ismera moved. Her knee came up hard between the man’s legs.
Torden winced.
The man folded over with a strangled groan, both hands dropping protectively between his legs.
Ismera took off.
Within moments, she disappeared into the activity along the busy waterfront. Torden stared after her. The man remained bent over. Perhaps Ismera didn't require his assistance after all.
He finally got Sorcha onto the dock and glanced in the direction Ismera had vanished.
“Glad I’ll never have to see that pint-sized woman again.”
He took hold of the saddle and mounted, settling easily onto Sorcha’s back before turning her away from the harbor.
“A half day’s ride to the village, Sorcha. That’s where we’ll meet the other two.”
He looked toward the road stretching inland across Morra Mist.
“And hopefully, after this, things will be different.”