Beyond a Darkened Shore(9)

“Is this why you kept me from Valhalla? To hold a useless conversation on my knowledge of languages?”

I glared. The fact that I couldn’t understand anything but the simplest words in Norse, but he could converse with me fluently in my own language, made me uncomfortable. “I spared your life to determine whether you raided the monastery north of here.”

Silent, he only stared back at me. Inwardly I forced my rising frustration down; I knew better than to say anything else. Letting silence grow until it settled on one’s shoulders like a sodden wool cape was enough to force someone to talk. Usually, the mere threat of my mental abilities was enough to loosen stubborn tongues. But this particular prisoner had been immune.

Well, there were always blades.

But before I could reach for my sword, he spoke. “My life is in the hands of the gods.” I enjoyed a small thrill at him having capitulated first. “I owe you nothing.”

“Your Norse gods hold no power here. By all rights, I should have killed you on the battlefield, but I didn’t. I could kill you now. And still you will not answer?”

He stared mutely, as though he no longer understood Gaelic.

I considered the chains that bound him for a moment, and it occurred to me that if I wasn’t able to take possession of his mind on the battlefield, perhaps now that he was in a weakened state, I’d be successful at forcing the answers from his mind. I stared him down as though trying to intimidate him. All the while, I opened myself to my power, pushing through the blinding pain behind my eyes. I concentrated, my entire being focused on the prisoner in front of me.

And again I hit a wall, an impregnable nothingness. Most people’s minds had no defenses; their every thought and feeling pelted me like rain the moment I reached out. But with the Northman, there was only silence. I pushed harder. A hint of confusion flitted across his face for a moment—he felt something, at least. When I pushed again, the nothingness repelled my mental attack.

The pain in my head intensified, and the many small wounds on my body from the battle throbbed. With fatigue came the severing of my patience.

“I hope your gods will keep you warm in this cave tonight. When the tide rises and the wind beats at the door, perhaps you will consider my request for answers.”

His face revealed no emotion, no evidence that he had even heard or understood my threat.

I turned on my heel and stalked out of the cave. Already the night had turned bitterly cold, the type of cold that made one desperate for a fire. The kind of cold that should loosen a prisoner’s tongue to guarantee he’s never abandoned in such an environment again.

The goat trail was as inhospitable as always, causing me to choose my footholds carefully. Heavy footsteps announced Fergus’s approach, and once I had reached the bottom of the trail, I held my hand aloft in greeting.

Fergus’s eyebrows rose the moment he took in my frustrated expression. “The prisoner refused to answer you?” he asked. “But how—with your . . . abilities . . .” He trailed off, and I was surprised he’d said as much as he had. My mental powers weren’t a subject many enjoyed talking about.

I shook my head. “I wish I had an answer for you.” I glanced up at the darkened cave. “The wind and tide will do the job well enough, I’m sure. If not . . .”

“I could break his silence for you, milady.” He smiled then, for both Conall and Fergus loved nothing more than the chance to use their swords.

“You may get the chance,” I said. My muscles tensed as I remembered the prisoner’s mute stare, but even so, torture wasn’t one of my strengths. “You needn’t make the trek to the cave. It was hard going just now, and if you’ve nominated yourself as guard, then you’d be much warmer here.”

He shrugged, and the flame from the torch he held danced merrily. “I would be glad to escort ye back, milady. The Northman scum will keep in his prison tonight—the manacles will see to that. And even if he should escape, he will surely fall to his death.”

I glanced back at the dizzying height of the cliff, and the rocks and sea waiting hungrily at the bottom. Escape would indeed be risky, even for an uninjured warrior.

“I can see well enough in this light. I have no need for an escort. But what of my mother and sisters? Are they well?”

“Aye, milady. Only eager to see ye.”

A relieved breath escaped me. Thanks be to God. “I will go to them, then. Thank you, Fergus.” As I walked away, I called back over my shoulder, “I’ll be sure to relieve you of your post in the morning.”

Fergus chuckled, settling himself down among the rocks. “I have no doubt you’ll be back. It’s not many who would stand up to ye.”

My muscles were drawn as tight as a bow as I hurried back to the castle keep. Fergus was wrong. I wasn’t angry because the Northman had defied me—that was to be expected. No, it was the fact that he continued to resist me that fueled my anger. With him so physically weak, it should have been easy to break through his mental defenses and access the information I needed. It was too great a risk to send anyone to the monastery now, not after we had lost so many in battle; we needed his information. But what if we stalled too long and the Northmen should come back for their leader? Truly, the man was a liability. It would be better to chop off his head and throw him into the sea.

You need him, the dangerous voice whispered.