Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Vrogul
Thank the gods the winds picked up enough to raise the sails and we could take turns sleeping throughout the night. My warriors were more at ease now that we were home in familiar waters, and by noon we’d spotted our beloved Islay’s shores.
Unfortunately, ‘twas around this time I realized the fooking hole in my shoulder was becoming inflamed. My entire right arm ached and there were dark lines of infection running along my bicep.
I would survive, as long as Matthias’s potions were waiting for me at Battleborn Village. I just wouldn’t be very comfortable until then.
A few times that morning, I had caught my bonnie captive eyeing my injury, and I wondered if she was feeling smug or worried.
Shortly after I cut her free—after I explained the foolishness of trying to escape in the middle of the godsdamned ocean, I’d introduced her to my crew as, “Rowena—she’s mine.
” To my surprise, only a few of them had teased me about taking her—and about my injury.
Far more inclined their heads with respect… both to me and to her.
Mayhap they were as tired as I was.
Still, I slept little, intent on watching over them…and her.
Rowena, whose father had taught her the ways of the blade.
I knew little of her, other than that she was dangerous…
and I could not seem to leave her behind.
My Kteer had demanded she come with me, and now I wondered if I should have ignored the instinct.
Not only was she deadly—and now had every reason to want revenge—but she had likely had a home and a life in that mining village.
I’d destroyed so many lives yesterday.
With a sigh, I scrubbed my hand down my face and nudged Auld Garran awake with my toe. He should be the one to bring us into the bay where the Battleborn watchers waited.
The next few hours were a bit of a blur; or mayhap that was because I was exhausted.
There was cheering as we made landfall, aye—from my raiders as well as the clan members lining the shores.
They’d brought pack animals and wagons, and we had plenty of help loading our spoils to make the trek to our protected village.
If any of them noticed my flagging steps, they said naught. I did, however, catch curious glances being sent my captive’s way, and heard more than one murmured conversation. Likely my warriors spreading the news of how Rowena had nearly bested me in battle.
My thinking was too fuzzy—fatigue or infection?—to parse the implications. There’d be a celebration tonight for our safe return, and tomorrow I would consider what to do with Battleborn’s new guest.
I did notice that the more curious—or hostile—gazes turned her way the closer Rowena moved to my side. I hadn’t retied her hands because it felt like an insult to such an opponent, and she’d made no further move to escape once we’d entered orcish waters. And now I was glad for it.
Aye, my Kteer crowed when she moved to stand beside me, although I suspected ‘twas no’ an act of fondness. Rather, surely, she was merely uncertain in such strange surroundings and unconsciously turning to the slightly familiar.
I remembered that she’d called me beast and wondered what she must think to see the full clan surrounding her. Not just my warriors—justifiably feared throughout the Isles—but our females and elders and, aye, even children scampering about.
But when she finally spoke, ‘twas not what I expected.
“Are these humans your captives as well, Stormseeker?”
I blinked, then glanced down at her. Her chin lifted mulishly, her gaze straight ahead as she marched at my side, having to take two strides for every one of mine, despite my exhaustion. It took me a moment to realize who she meant.
“This is my clan, little wildcat. The Battleborn of Islay. All of them.”
A flash of blue beneath her lashes, as she glanced up at me, then away, stubbornly.
“The humans as well?”
“Aye, the humans as well.”
I lifted my left arm, then decided against touching her, and instead dragged my hand over my braids.
“Some began as captives, others as refugees. Most are now honored Mates, Rowena, with a place and respect here on Islay.”
I could see from the tension in her jaw that she didn’t believe me, but I didn’t have the energy to try to convince her. Besides, we crested the last hill…and there was home.
Our ancestors had built the original village on an island in the middle of a small loch at the center of the valley, but now the buildings had extended around the shores as well.
The wooden walkway to the island was still our best means of defense, and kitlings were taught young to rush across it to the heavy stone buildings of the island in case of attack.
Now though?
Now ‘twas time for celebration.
And aye, for certes, there was Issa, rushing toward us, both hands supporting her huge belly.
“Maardok!” she cried, throwing herself at our brother, likely the only one strong enough to lift her in this condition.
Sure enough, he was laughing when he scooped her up and spun her around. I smiled wearily as the same scene played out with the rest of my warriors being welcomed home.
Six human families are mourning right now.
I told myself ‘twas their fault, for resisting.
The guilt was assuaged by the contented way my Kteer buzzed, watching the joy around me.
Then my sister was in front of me, beaming, and I sighed with satisfaction as I hugged her with my left arm.
“Hello, not-so-little-one.” I pecked her on her forehead. “Ye havenae popped yet?”
She swatted my chest, her attention already on my injury.
“I still have six weeks, and ye ken it. What’s this about yer injury? Ye are hurt?”
“A scratch,” I assured her, and at my side I heard Rowena snort.
Before Issa could launch into full fussing mode, I caught her hand. “We brought ye some of the cheese ye like.”
The way she rolled her dark eyes was exactly the response I was hoping for.
“Fook the cheese, Vrogul!”
“Nay, thank ye,” I quipped, and Rowena snorted again.
The thought that she was listening to my homecoming should have irritated me. Why didn’t it?
Issa lifted her hand to my cheek and smiled at me. Gods below, when she looked at me like that, she reminded me so much of our mother that my heart ached, and I wanted to just sink into her embrace, bury my head against her shoulder, and be told everything would be alright.
Except I knew it would be a lie.
As long as Callor controlled us, this contentment wasn’t guaranteed.
“Vrogul,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling and her tusks gleaming as she smiled. “Ye came home to us. Ye brought everyone home. The cheese, the stores…Callor’s ore? ‘Tis less important than that.” She shook me slightly. “Ye all came home to us.”
Six humans didn’t.
I closed my eyes.
And my sister sighed.
“Come on, ye dobber. Let’s get Matthias to look at yer wound.”
‘Twas good to be home.
Rowena
There was something wrong. The Stormseeker wasn’t acting like the terrifying sea raider I knew him to be. He’d allowed the female to take him by the hand and lead him toward a cozy little hut with overgrown rosemary bushes along the front walkway.
It seemed the vicious reiver was cowed by his wife.
Not so cowed, if he stole you.
Well, mayhap he hadn’t stolen me to plow my belly, as I’d feared.
None of the orcs had touched me like that—not even a squeeze on my arse, which is more than I could say of the married men in the mining village.
Mayhap I’d been stolen for something even more sinister—a sacrifice to their heathen gods?
But there were other human females here, bustling around the village, not acting like sacrifices or slaves. Were they the honored Mates the Stormseeker had claimed?
When he ducked into the cottage, following his wife, I hesitated in the open doorway. Had I been forgotten?
“Chief!”
A human male had been bending over the fire in the hearth and now straightened with a welcoming smile.
“We’d hoped ye’d make it back today.”
The female crossed to the human—she was taller than him by almost a head—and lowered her lips to his.
“My brother has managed to get himself injured. Will ye—”
“Aye, of course!”
The man burst into action, darting around the room, gathering supplies as the female—the Stormseeker’s sister, not wife?—waved him toward a stool by the window.
“I prepared my medicines, just in case, although I’d hoped we’d not need them.”
This last was directed to the female, who shook her head with an amused smile. “Maardok tells me our D’malk was the only one to find himself with a serious injury.”
“‘Tis no’ that serious,” the Stormseeker mumbled, lowering himself with a sigh. Only then did he flick his fingers toward the door, toward me.
“This is Rowena. She came home with us.”
Obviously.
As his sister and her human Mate turned to me, I straightened, glaring at all three of them. I saw the Stormseeker’s lips twitch.
“She’s the one who gave me this paltry cut.”
“Paltry—” I began but was interrupted by the smirking female.
“I’m Issa,” she announced, coming toward me with her arm extended.
“And this is my Mate Matthias, our village’s healer. Ye must be hungry. Come in.”
Confused at the welcome, I found myself seated at a comfortable little table, enjoying a pottage made with real meat as I watched Matthias sew up the Stormseeker’s shoulder.
While the male—how did a human become a healer in an orcish village?
—focused on the poultice and medicines, the siblings discussed the planned celebration for the evening.
And I plotted my escape.
Before long, exhaustion took over, and I rested my head on the table. Only vaguely, I heard someone murmur.
“She didnae sleep much last night. Can I leave her here?”
An equally soft response before strong arms lifted me.