Chapter Eight #3
“I may have to pay a visit to Falias to find Tadgh, the young man we met along the road home. I need to find out who he’s working for and if he knows anything about all this.
If, as I suspect, he was sent to Jorvik to eliminate you, then I’ll need to deal with him.
I believe now that you may have been right about him all along. ”
“I was? But right about what exactly? Wait…did you say he was sent to eliminate me?”
“I’m not worried about that, and you shouldn’t be either. He’d have to come through me first, and I’d have no problem taking care of that situation. You said you wondered if Tadgh and his men followed us to that village that was attacked by the ogre.
“Yes. I told you that you were wrong about Tadgh and his men then. I thought because they were there at the village ahead of us, it wasn’t possible.
But now I think you may have been correct after all.
On reflection, I realized we stopped far more often than we normally would have on the way to the portal because of you and he could have passed us. ”
I held up my hand to stop his protests. “It’s true, Braden, and you must know it.
Your little horse, Crow, was smaller and not able to keep up as well.
Tadgh and his group could have easily gone around us on the trail and gotten ahead of us.
They hadn’t been at the village for long, if you remember. ”
“Yes, I know all that, but why were they in Jorvik to begin with? Were they…you think they were after me?”
“You did say someone had been following you before we arrived in Jorvik.”
“Yes, that’s right. A few nights before you came, I thought someone got behind me on the street and followed me home. I never saw anyone though.”
“It could have been Tadgh and his men.”
“Do you really think so? You know the disappearance of my uncle Leofric was strange too. I do hope he finally returned home. But why would anyone bother my poor uncle if it was me they wanted?”
“Hard to say. For leverage, maybe—to hold him hostage and get you to deliver yourself to them in an exchange, maybe.”
“Oh, no,” he said, and jumped up to start pacing up and down the room. “But they didn’t have my uncle in the village.”
“Perhaps something went wrong, and he put up a fight.”
“You think they may have killed him,” he asked, so softly, I turned to look at him and saw that he’d gone as white as the sheets. I crossed back over to him quickly and took his hand.
“Calm yourself. We don’t have anything yet but wild suppositions. I’ll send someone to make inquiries about him, if you’re worried. To see if he ever returned home.”
“He’s been good to me. He’s my family. Of course, I’m worried!”
“All right. No need for all the shouting.”
“I’m sorry, but I-I’m worried.”
“Yes, yes, I understand. I promise you we’ll find out about him.” Braden looked so sad, though, that I put my arms around him to comfort him. I kissed the side of his face, and it seemed to make him feel better. So, I did it again.
****
Braden
Not long after my meal the next morning, Fionn, who had spent the night with me, told me that he’d be speaking to the one who had given him his training as a boy, and he would be meet with me to assess my talent in fighting.
If this man thought I had promise, he would arrange some lessons for me, but if not, I might have to put aside my plans to take a personal role in avenging my father.
I wasn’t at all happy about that, but I agreed to meet him and let him assess my abilities.
Only hours later, I had my first lesson in handling a sword. It wasn’t with Lord Fionn, which I would have much preferred, but with the man he’d told me about, named Branwyn. He had made himself available to me—mostly because of the king, I believed, as he was not taking on new trainees.
He was a really good-looking man, as all the Faeries were, with lustrous dark hair and sparkling, hazel-green eyes. He smiled often and no one would have taken him for an ogre in disguise—but I soon learned that was exactly what he was.
Not really, though he gave a good impression of one. Naturally, I’d never say that to his face.
Fionn had told me he was a patient and kind man, and he was—as long as I didn’t make a mistake.
Or failed to do something he’d told me to do, or if I didn’t keep my shield up properly or if I got “too bold” or if I “didn’t listen,” which was he said was my worst failing by far.
Then I’d find myself flat on my ass or shoved against a wall with a sword at my throat so fast I never knew what hit me.
Once he literally kicked me in the ass as I bent over to retrieve my sword.
It wasn’t hard and it didn’t hurt me at all, but I still didn’t appreciate it.
I was trying, though he said I wasn’t. He actually called me an “assling” and seemed to enjoy thumping my forehead with his hard, bony finger and saying, “Think, damn you. Think!”