The Highlander's Secret(58)

He sniffed at her hand expectantly and Jain winced, scratching him behind the ear. “Sorry, but there’s nae carrot today, just me.”

Angus snorted in disapproval and she went to hitch him with tack and reins before climbing on and leading him out into the field. Her stomach folded over on itself in an uncomfortable knot at the thought of leaving Alan behind. Jain swallowed hard and put her own feelings aside, all for the protection of her people. She wasn’t even sure what that meant anymore.

With the moonlit hills laid out before them across the moor, she urged Angus forward with her heel and quickly sped into a gallop. The wind whipped through her hair as they gained speed and she clung tightly to his reins. Jain’s cloak fluttered in the air behind her, but she kept her eyes focused on the path ahead.

She had never been so terrified, nor had she ever been more sure that what she was doing was necessary and correct. She kept those thoughts deep inside and locked them away, giving her strength to know that her ride must continue.

It was a long way before she saw dots of orange flame from campfires on the hills ahead. There were many times she thought about turning back, but she knew it was too late – the dye was already cast. Jain could smell the smoke rising from the fires as it mixed with the bitter tinge of salt along the coast. The difficulty of their terrain turned rocky as they got closer and she was jostled in her seat. Her heart was pounding wildly as she brought Angus to a halt and dismounted a safe distance away. She needed to approach them in a submissive fashion, so they would not attack. Otherwise, her entire journey had been for naught. Jain swallowed hard, gripping the reins within her hand and walked him slowly towards the encampment.

She saw bodies move around the fires and begin to approach her as some of them came to investigate, arming themselves with weapons.

“Who is it?” she heard them ask in their native tongue.

“Some girl and her horse,” the man responded.

Jain exhaled in the cathartic release of hearing her own language spoken. It had been so long since she heard it properly and it brought a flood of nostalgic memories. She never let down her guard though, and the moment was shattered almost as fast as it arrived by the swelling fear inside her chest.

“A girl?”

“That’s what I said,” the man snapped.

“Is she alone?”

“Yes.”

“Then what are ye waiting fer?”

Jain tensed as the hairs on the back of her neck stood up and they came towards her in the light of the fire, meeting at the wooden spike placed as a line of defense. “I’ve come in peace,” she told them.

Her accent had become somewhat colored from her years of living in Elign, but the men’s eyes grew wide and clear with understanding. Their hair was long; some wore it in braids and others had shaved their heads along the side.

“You speak our language?” the one with braids asked her bluntly.

“Yes.”

The other scoffed. “How is that possible?”

“It seems the gods have a sense of humor.”

Jain stepped forward, saying, “Because my parents are Viking. I’m the daughter of Erik Bjornson who died in the settlement here years ago. I’d like to speak with whoever leads this raiding party.”

She held out the brooch for them to see, with the dragonhead pattern glistening in the moonlight. The one whose head was shaved crossed his arms in front of his chest as he eyed the brooch warily. “I’m not sure if what ye say is true, but the Earl would be curious to hear your tale regardless.”

He pulled on a piece of rope that lowered some of the spikes towards the ground as a sort of fence and let her pass.

“Your horse will have to stay,” he informed her curtly. “Ye can get it back when the Earl decides.”

She nodded, while handing him the reins and followed the other deep into the Viking camp. The tents they had set up were secured with branches or pieces of driftwood and brightly colored fabric. Jain could feel their eyes on her as she walked past them, watching her suspiciously. Warriors and shield maidens sat by the fires, sharpening their axes on whetstones. Some of them were drinking ale, or perhaps something stronger, while they whispered to one another.

“Who’s the girl?” a light-haired warrior asked.

“She’s here to see the Earl,” the one with braids responded without hesitation.

Jain’s heartbeat quickened, sensing the danger she was in and tried not to look at them for very long. The Viking men and women were so different then the people of Elign, they were harder…fiercer. Most of them were covered in tribal markings that had been tattooed onto their skin. Some of them had smudges of black grease beneath their eye, which Jain knew lessened the glare of the sun when it reflected off the water.

So many things were reminiscent of her past, she could feel it rising up inside her. Eventually, they came to a large tent that had a colorful tapestry hanging from the door. The great tent – the one that was reserved for royalty.

“Earl Ragnar, this girl is here to see you,” the man spoke after they went inside.

She glanced at the warrior he had spoken to and felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs. His red hair was long and twisted back into braids along the top of his skull. The sides above his ears were shaved and there was a tattoo of a beast that crept up around his neck. He was tall and had broad shoulders that towered over her from his great height.