Beyond a Darkened Shore(22)

Cold fingers touched the back of my neck. No, they were not men. “It’s true, then? There are such . . . monstrosities? Men like giants?”

“There have always been tales of giants among my people—the j?tnar of J?tunheimr. Man-eaters, gluttons who are bigger than mountains. We always believed they were confined to their realm. We were wrong.”

“J?tnar?” I repeated, the unfamiliar word sticking to my tongue. “This is the name of the creatures that will descend upon éirinn?”

He shook his head as though frustrated with my lack of understanding. “You needn’t concern yourself, maiden. Run along home and leave such a quest to men with skill.”

Fury flushed across my cheeks. Skill? Wasn’t I the warrior the Morrigan had led the Northman to? And yet he insulted me. “Are you forgetting that I am the one holding the sword?”

He took a step forward, until the point of the sword was inches from his throat. “If you think a little girl with a sword will keep me from my quest, then you have made a grave error.”

There was something about the look in his eyes, like a cornered lion, that gave me pause. “Your quest . . . do you mean you have been searching for the giants? Is that what brought you to our land?”

“Yes.”

I took a step back so my sword was no longer at his throat. “Why you? What can you do to stop them?”

He met my gaze. “There is no one stronger. I paid the ultimate price to ensure this was true.”

“You’d go to such lengths to protect this land?”

“I care nothing for your land.” A muscle in his jaw flexed. “I came for revenge.”

Vengeance. This was something I could understand.

Above us, the crow circled. “Well, the crow was right. I want to stop them, same as you.”

His look was wary and calculating both—before it turned into a defensive sneer. “And what can you do about it? I’ve fought many Celts and heard much talk of their infighting among clans. Your band of Celts would not stir themselves to join our fight—not until it is much too late.”

I thought of the way my father had dismissed the Morrigan’s vision. If he didn’t believe me, no one would.

I couldn’t go home, and even if I could, I knew my clansmen would never join with me on a quest like this. The Northman was right.

My hand shook on my sword as the weight of that realization sank in. I couldn’t go home. I couldn’t see my sisters again.

The only way I could redeem myself was to save them.

I swallowed my pride, my disgust, at joining such a hated enemy. “My clansmen may not join you, but I will.”

His gaze traveled the length of me, as though taking my measure. “A brave offer, to be sure, but you could not even keep a single man captive, much less battle enemies who can level entire villages.”

Frustration and anger at his insult—no matter how true it was—erupted within me. I brought my sword up in a sweeping arc, nicking his throat in the same place as I had on the battlefield. To his credit, he did not flinch, only brought his fingers to the small trail of blood.

“I was also the one who brought you to your knees, Northman.”

His scowl melted away, and he threw back his head in a laugh. On edge still, the bark of laughter nearly caused me to attack him again. “You may have imprisoned me, warrior maiden, but I can’t help but like you.”

“My name is Ciara of Mide,” I corrected, my tone waspish.

“Ciara, then,” he said, mirth still visible in his eyes. “I am Leif Olafsson. You would prove an interesting distraction, it is true. But what use can you be against giants?”

I could see he was wavering. I would have to explain to him—and pray he believed me. “I can take possession of someone’s mind and force them to do whatever I command.”

His eyebrows rose. “Impressive. Though, if you have such an ability, why haven’t you used it on me?”

“How do you know I haven’t?”

He grinned. “Because you wouldn’t have had to waste time begging me for answers.”

I shifted briefly from foot to foot. “You are the first person I haven’t been able to take control of,” I admitted grudgingly.

“I would call you a liar or mad, but I have to admit I saw what you did on the battlefield. I didn’t understand it at the time—I only knew someone had cast some dark spell on one of my men to make him turn on his own. You did that. You made my men turn on each other.”

“It’s not a spell,” I said, though to me, the truth was much worse.

“It doesn’t matter how you do it—only that you can—and there’s no doubt it would be useful.” He nodded as though he had finally found me acceptable, and I felt sweat bead on my forehead with the effort to not bash him over the head again.

“More useful than brute strength,” I said heatedly.

“You sound jealous,” he said, and then laughed as my grip tightened on my sword. “I can see you want to attempt to use that on me again, so I will relent.” He glanced at the crow still flying above us. “You wanted answers from me—what is it you wish to know?”

“What is your plan? How do you intend to stop the giants?”

“My men wait for me in Dyflin, and so I must reunite with them and speak with the king.” I crossed my arms over my chest at the mention of the Northman word for the city of Dubhlinn. They had changed the name when they had conquered the city, and it still rankled me to hear it called thus. Worse still was the fact that he was referring to King Sigtrygg, my kingdom’s enemy.