Fires of Winter

  Garrick’s reaction gave Anselm reason to think Garrick really did care for the girl. Only yesterday he had said to all that he would not share her. Now this. Ah, would the two young people forever be at odds with each other?

  Brenna stirred her small fire and added more sticks before she lay down for a few hours’ sleep. She was pleasantly sated after sharing a plump, roasted hare with Dog. Willow was covered and settled for the night, and Dog lay at her feet on a pallet of old furs.

  She had encountered no difficulties thus far. Game was plentiful in the wooded areas, and she had found a few flowing springs where she could replenish her water supply. The only discomfort she suffered was the icy north wind that whisked through her camp. Even next to the fire she could not get thoroughly warm. At least no snow had fallen to add to that still on the ground from the last storm. Here in the forest, there were many areas free of snow like the place where she was camped.

  Four days had passed since she left Garrick. After three days of riding, she had come upon another fjord which blocked her way. So she was forced to turn east after all, but she didn’t think it would matter now. She had covered Willow’s tracks for two days. Garrick would never find her.

  Another two days’ distance should be enough. Then Brenna would look for a comparatively sheltered area—dense woods perhaps, or a deep glen. There she would build a hut where she could wait out the winter.

  It all seems so easy, Brenna thought, as sleep drew near. She should have left Garrick months sooner.

  Garrick came upon the camp in the middle of night, but he was too exhausted to feel anything but mild satisfaction that his search was over. His stallion was near collapse, for Garrick had rested only twice since starting out, and had wasted a day searching through the eastern hills.

  He had expected to find Brenna near death; starving and frozen. He was relieved to find her well enough, but that she glowed with contentment while she slept did not sit well with him.

  Garrick dismounted and secured his horse beside the gray mare, then moved over to the fire. He lay down beside Brenna without waking her. Tomorrow would be soon enough to have it out with her. He slept.

  Brenna stirred when the weight on her chest hampered her movements. As consciousness came she realized that the heavy weight she felt was not a dream, and her eyes flew open to see an arm slung across her chest, pinning her to the ground.

  She fought the urge to cry out and slowly, fearfully, turned to see the rest of the long body beside her. She nearly screamed with exasperation. This was too much, too much to bear!

  “You!” she stormed, throwing his arm off her and scrambling to her feet.

  Garrick woke in surprise, and reached instinctively for the hilt of his sword. Upon taking in his surroundings he relaxed, then frowned when his eyes fell on Brenna, standing with legs astride, hands on her hips, her dark eyes smoldering with rage and fury.

  “So you are awake?”

  “How did you find me?” she demanded, her body nearly shaking with outrage. “How?”

  He ignored her for a moment as he threw off his heavy cloak and dusted his clothing. Then he did not answer her question, but said contemptuously, “You have effectively confirmed my opinion of the female sex. There is not one of you who can be trusted.”

  “You form judgments too soon. I did not say I would stay with you. If I had, I would not have run away. Now how did you find me?”

  “You forget that I am a hunter, Brenna,” he said in a surprisingly even-tempered voice. “I am good at what I do. Neither beast,” he paused, his eyes darkening, “nor runaway slave can escape me.”

  “But I covered my trail! You should be south of here. What brought you north?”

  “I admit I lost a day riding towards the mountains, but with no sign of you there, I turned around.” He shot a murderous glance at Dog, who hung his head guiltily. “Since I could not find that traitorous mongrel anywhere, I knew he had gone with you. You covered the mare’s trail well enough, but you forgot about the dog.”

  It was too late to cry over her mistake. Brenna could see that Garrick was furious with Dog, however, and she did not want the animal to suffer because of her.

  “Do not blame him for coming with me. I coaxed him to come,” she lied, “so you could not use him to find me.”

  Garrick laughed shortly. “Yet ’twas Dog who led me to you after all.”

  She faced him squarely, her bearing defiant. “And now, Viking?”

  “Now I will take you home.”

  “To be punished?”

  “You were warned what would happen if you chose this course. Did you think that because you warmed my bed on occasion, I would be lenient with you?”

  She felt that painful lump in her throat again. “Nay, I did not expect that of you,” she said softly, her lower lip nearly trembling. “I thought you would not find me. Are all your neighbors out searching too?”

  “I came alone,” he replied in a gentler tone, almost a whisper.

  “Well, I will not return to face your punishment, Viking,” she replied, her voice deceptively quiet.

  He shrugged and picked up his cloak, ready to leave. “You have little choice.”

  “You are wrong.”

  The words came out slowly, for it made her heart ache to say them, but he left her with no other course. She threw off the heavy fur cape that had concealed her weapons and placed her hand on the hilt of her sword.

  “I have a choice, Garrick.”

  He looked at her in genuine surprise, his eyes covering her body from head to foot, coming at last to rest on the weapons. “Where did you get those?”

  “I stole them.”

  “Who aided you?”

  “No one,” she lied. “I took Erin’s keys to the storehouse when he slept, then returned them afterward.”

  “And those clothes, they are yours? But of course they are,” he sneered. “They fit so well. Not a seductive gown, but tempting just the same.”

  “Stop it!” she cried, seeing desire mix with the anger in his eyes.

  “So you wish to play the man’s role again, Brenna,” he speculated, amusement in his voice. “You want to fight for your freedom?”

  “Leave me, and we need not fight.”

  “Nay,” he grinned, and drew his sword. “The challenge is met.”

  Brenna groaned and brought her sword to hand as Garrick came at her. Her heart was not in the fight to come. There was no anger in her now, only regret that it had come to this.

  He attacked quickly, trying to knock the sword from her hand, but Brenna moved aside. His side was open for her thrust, but she could not do it. He attacked again. He was skilled with the sword, and he had strength behind his blows, but he did not have her expertise, nor her cunning. Yet she could not take advantage of him. She could not bring herself to draw his blood though he gave her many opportunities to do so as he tried to disarm her.

  To kill him, to see Garrick dead—the thought sickened her. She would only disarm him, as he was intent upon doing to her, and then she would move on.

  Brenna was not given the chance, for at that moment a huge bear, the likes of which she had never been before, stood up directly behind Garrick. She cried out, but she was too late. The bear had taken them so unawares that he was only inches from Garrick when he turned to see what had so frightened Brenna. With a powerful swipe of his paw, the bear knocked Garrick sideways. He fell against a tree trunk, striking his head.

  Garrick did not move. Brenna stared in disbelief as the bear approached him, roaring victoriously. Brenna screamed and attacked the bear in blind fury. She held her sword in both hands and raised it over her head, then thrust it into the bear’s back with all her might. But the beast didn’t fall over or even stagger. He roared in bloody rage and swung round to Brenna, who turned ashen with the worst fear she had ever experienced.

  Her dagger was useless, so she ran in a panic to Willow and got the crossbow from the sack. The bear was nearing her too quickly. She
ran to the left, away from the horses, and readied the crossbow as she moved. Finally she crouched and took aim. The arrow pierced the bear’s throat and after several agonizing moments, he fell at last.

  Her relief was so great that Brenna fell on her knees to give silent thanks. Though her whole body was trembling, she made her way on shaky legs to Garrick’s side and held her breath till she made sure he was alive. His shoulder was bleeding where the bear had swiped him, leaving deep grooves in the skin. But the blow to his head had not broken the skin, though it had begun to swell.

  Brenna went to the horses and tore a strip from Willow’s blanket, soaked it in water and returned to Garrick. She wet his face and began to clean away the blood from his shoulder.

  He groaned and felt the back of his head, then eyed Brenna warily. “Do you always minister to your enemies?”

  She ignored his question and inspected his cuts. “Does it hurt?”

  “Nay, ’tis numb. Did the bear run off?”

  Brenna shook her head. “I had to kill him.”

  Garrick’s eyes widened. “The beast attacked you?”

  “Nay, ’twas you he wanted,” Brenna said calmly, avoiding his eyes.

  Garrick took this news with displeasure. “First you try to kill me, then you save my life. Why?”

  “If I had tried to kill you, Garrick, you would be dead now. I could not do it.”

  “Why not?” he asked harshly even as she bandaged his shoulder. “You would have gained your freedom.”

  Brenna looked at Garrick with eyes that were a soft gray. “I do not know why. I just could not find it in me to cause your death.”

  He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him, then quickly lifted the dagger from her belt. “In case you have second thoughts on the matter, I will keep this.”

  She said nothing as he came to his feet and shook the dizziness from his head. With his hand still around her wrist, he pulled her with him over to the bear. He recognized the animal as the one he had disturbed from slumber a few days past.

  “’Twould seem I did underestimate you, Brenna,” he said grudgingly, surveying the dead carcass. “You are as capable as you declared.” He looked at her sternly. “’Tis a pity I cannot trust you from my sight.”

  “If I were loyal to you, then you could trust me, Viking,” she said almost bitterly.

  He cocked a questioning brow at her. “Would you give loyalty?” Then he pulled her to him, gripping her shoulders painfully. “What do you want of me, Brenna?”

  “Freedom!”

  He shook his head angrily. “A free woman has many rights, among them the right to refuse a lover.”

  “’Tis unlawful to rape a freewoman?”

  “Aye.”

  Brenna stiffened. “That is all you care about—raping me! Why is it so important that you have me and not another? You do not care for me as a woman. You have no thought for my feelings. You have proved that many times. So why must it be me?”

  “Your body is most pleasurable, Brenna. ’Tis enough that I enjoy having you when I want you.”

  “Mayhaps if you were a kindhearted man, ’twould be enough, Garrick,” she said quietly. “But you are harsh, and cruel in many ways.”

  The look that came over Garrick’s countenance was frightening. He crushed her to him, the pressure of his powerful arms excruciating.

  “’Tis me you have, mistress. I will have your word that you will not escape me again.”

  “You cannot force my word from me, Garrick, for if you do, ’twill not be given freely, and I will not honor it.”

  “Then you have set your own fate,” he said.

  He pulled her over to the horses and set her atop Willow. There she waited obediently while he gathered their cloaks and weapons.

  When Garrick mounted, he took her reins, not even trusting her to follow him. What fate had she set for herself with her stubborn pride? Brenna shivered, staring at Garrick’s still back. She would know soon enough.

  The huge stone house loomed up before them, bathed in soft blue by the northern lights. It was night when Garrick led them into the stable. Erin came out hastily from the back, joy and relief glowing on his weathered, old face. This quickly turned to fatherly gravity.

  “Shame on you, lass, for running away from us!” he said gruffly, though his eyes still gleamed his welcome.

  “I did not run away from you, Erin, but from him,” Brenna replied, ignoring Garrick’s presence.

  “Well, you gave me a mighty scare,” Erin continued. “You could at least have waited till spring, so you would have had less chance of freezing out there.”

  “That is enough, Erin!” Garrick commanded, and took Brenna’s arm roughly.

  She did not even have a chance to bid Erin farewell as Garrick pulled her along in the direction of the house. As they approached the back entrance, he turned to the right, toward the side of the house, and Brenna halted immediately.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  He did not answer, but yanked her along. Brenna held back, thus making it more difficult for him. She knew where he was taking her, yet she could not believe it.

  On the side of the house facing the fjord was a small wooden door. Garrick threw it open. Cut in the door was a little square with iron bars affixed over it. Because of its nearness to the fjord, the room inside was dark and damp like an icy wet cavern.

  Garrick stood aside. “Your quarters, mistress.”

  She looked at him with horror in her eyes. “You would really put me in there?”

  “’Tis the kinder of most punishments for running away,” he said in an impatient tone.

  “How can you do this to me after I saved your life? Does that mean naught to you?”

  “Yea, I am grateful.”

  “You show it admirably, Viking,” Brenna said sarcastically.

  He sighed. “If I took no action against you, Brenna, ’twould be an invitation for the other slaves to run away also. I cannot allow that.”

  She would not plead with him. “How long will you keep me in there?”

  “Three or four days—until you have learned your lesson.”

  She shot him a contemptuous glance. “And you think this will teach me anything, Viking? You are mistaken. Here my hatred will grow and I will be even more determined to escape you.”

  He jerked her to him, and his lips crushed hers possessively. She returned his kiss, but only for spite. He must regret doing this to her. She would make him regret it.

  “You need not stay here, Brenna,” he breathed against her neck, “if you will give me your word you will not leave me again.”

  She put her arms about his neck and said provocatively, “But then the other slaves would think I am special to you.”

  “You are special.”

  “Special, yet still you could shut me in that cold cell.”

  “Will you swear, Brenna?”

  She kissed his lips lightly, teasingly, before she pushed him away. “The devil take you, Viking. I will not be your prized toy.”

  With that she held her head high and walked into the dank cell, gritting her teeth as he closed the door behind her. She began to tremble immediately. She almost screamed out and called him back, but then she clamped her hand over her mouth. She would not beg to be released.

  It was cold—freezing, in fact. Fortunately she had her cape and her arm coverings and fur leggings. There was also an old woolen blanket on a narrow bench, the only furniture in the room. But there was no fire, and the incompletely enclosed room could not keep out the icy cold.

  No food had been left for her, either. All at once she felt ravenous, though she and Garrick had shared some venison only hours earlier. He would return. He could not possibly leave her here to freeze.

  She sat down on the bench and covered her legs with the blanket. The first three days of leisurely riding with Garrick he had been coldly silent. But the last two days his mood lightened, and she began to think he would do nothing to her when they return
ed. Still she could not believe he would really make her stay here.

  An hour passed, and then another. The blue mist in the sky disappeared, leaving only a depressing black gloom. Brenna shivered and felt the first signs of a fever. A while later she grew hot and threw off her cape, along with the strapped coverings on her legs and arms.

  He was not going to return. That unwelcome lump grew in her throat again, and tears stung her eyes. After all they had shared, even after she had saved his life, he could so mercilessly lock her in here. She would freeze to death. Then he would be sorry. A fine way to have revenge, when she would not be there to revel in the fruits of it.

  She started shaking again, and lay down on the hard bench. She dozed fitfully, alternately waking to either throw off her cape and blanket, or to pull them back over her again.

  “I am ill and he doesn’t even know it,” she reasoned, half asleep. “I should have told him. But it wouldn’t have made a difference to him. He is a beast. He doesn’t care.” She turned over, tears making her eyes glassy. “You will be sorry, Garrick, sorry…sorry…”

  Garrick turned fitfully on his bed and smashed a fist into his pillow. Try as he might, sleep would not come. The devils in his mind were having a fine time of it. Hour after hour, self-recriminations kept churning.

  Finally he could stand it no more. He leaped out of bed and threw on his cloak, then stormed from the room. In the hall, he lit a torch quickly, then braced himself for the icy cold outside. He reached the small cell in seconds and rapidly fumbled with the keys to unlock it.

  The door creaked open and he stooped to enter the dank chamber, then straightened, setting the torch in a wall holder before he approached Brenna. She was asleep on the floor by the bench, curled childlike in a ball, devoid of covering, including her velvet mantle.

  Garrick gritted his teeth in anger. The little fool! With no covers, she would catch her death in this weather. No doubt that was her intention.