Brotherhood: The Warrior Part 26

The hesitation in her eyes brought a wave of fear to him. If she rejected him again, he wasn't sure what he'd do.

She glanced to Kestrel before she nodded. "To the ends of this earth, I will run with you, Lochlan MacAllister."

Chapter 15.

For the first time in Lochlan's life, he actually looked forward to the future. For once, he had one worth living for.

As soon as they tied up this last mystery with his brother, he and Catarina would begin their life together. Neither of them knew where they would go, but it didn't matter.

She was used to earning her living and making do, and she would teach him whatever he needed to know. Not to mention he could earn extra coin at tournament. No one had ever bested him in a joust and few could defeat him at sword. They would be fine, he was sure of it.

He waited on the docks with Catarina while Kestrel bought them new mounts that would take them to the Scot's castle. This late at night, there were very few people about. But even so, he was careful. They still didn't know who Philip's informer had been.

But even with that weight on him, he still felt freer than he'd ever been before.

Kestrel returned with the horses. Lochlan smiled in approval. The man had chosen healthy, fast mounts for them.

"My thanks."

Kestrel gave him a wry smile. "I hope they never come in handy."

Lochlan laughed as he swung Catarina up into her saddle. "That makes two of us." Running from a king's justice was never good and often made b.l.o.o.d.y bedfellows.

Mounting his own horse, he allowed Kestrel to take the lead.

They rode in silence with nothing more than the bright moonlight as company. The sound of wolves echoed in the distance. There was a light mist on the ground, but even so there was nothing ominous about the night.

At least not until they reached the Scot's castle. It sat up on top of a high hill with a road so narrow, they were forced to ride single file. More than that, it was so narrow that even the horses were nervous and had to move very slowly lest they lose their footing.

"We should have dismounted," Catarina said from behind them.

"Too late now," they said in unison. There was no way to dismount without falling down the side of the hill and most likely dying painfully on the sharp rocks below.

The Scot had planned this location well. No one would ever be able to take his fortress. Nor would they be able to approach it without being seen. Something that became obvious as they reached the small clearing before the castle's opening.

Kestrel reined his horse and made sure he was within the circle of light that fell from the battlements above. It allowed visitors to be seen clearly, while the visitors could tell nothing of those who stood above, watching them.

"Raziel, 'tis the Kestrel. I bring friends in search of the Scot. Let us in."

Lochlan could only see shadowed outlines on the battlements above them. For all he knew they were getting ready to pour oil over all three of them and set them on fire. It was an unnerving thought.

The silence rang out for several minutes.

"Did he hear you?" Lochlan finally asked.

His answer came as one of the doors before them sc.r.a.ped open. There in the doorway was a tall, lean Saracen who was dressed in dark blue and gold-trimmed flowing robes. With an aura of extreme power, he wore two swords crossed over his back. Arms akimbo, he didn't appear pleased by their late-night visit.

"Kestrel," he said, his voice nothing more than a deep rumble. "It's been a long time, old friend."

"Aye. Thanks for not shooting me...this time."

Raziel's face showed no sign of amus.e.m.e.nt. "You will never forget that, will you?"

"I still limp and feel the bite of the wound every time it rains. How could I?" Kestrel dismounted before he joined Raziel and clapped him on the back like a brother.

Grateful the tension was broken, Lochlan dismounted, then moved to help Catarina down.

As they approached the Saracen, Raziel's black eyes narrowed dangerously.

"They're not us," he growled at Kestrel. "Who have you brought here and why?"

"I'm Lochlan MacAllister."

Raziel hissed before he pulled a sword free and angled it at Lochlan's throat. "Are you mad?" he snarled through clenched teeth. "The Scot will lose what little mind he has left."

Lochlan couldn't breathe as antic.i.p.ation, fear, and trepidation mingled inside him. "He's my brother. I want to see him."

"You abandoned him." The accusation hung heavy in the air, but it wasn't the truth and Lochlan knew it.

"I have never abandoned a brother in my life. Ever. And I won't let that lie stand."

"I believe him," Kestrel said, pushing Raziel's blade to the side with his bare hand. "He's traveled far for the truth. What say we speak to the Scot alone and see what he has to say?"

Raziel snorted. "You'll be lucky if you're not gutted on the floor like a pig. The Scot has no interest in the past."

Still Kestrel argued for them. "Have a heart, Raziel. Lochlan isn't like my family. He's not going to spit on the Scot for surviving. Let us speak to him and see what he has to say."

Raziel curled his lip before he finally sheathed his sword. Even so, the disdain he felt for Lochlan was clearly etched into every part of his demeanor. He narrowed his black eyes before he spoke a low, deadly warning. "If you say anything to hurt my lord, I will have your tongue and your heart."

"I won't hurt my brother."

Raziel glared at him one last time before he turned and led them through the outer bailey.

Catarina took his hand in hers as they walked through what was obviously intended to withstand the Second Coming. Lochlan shook his head at the fortifications. Kieran had never cared for such. Though his brother been a natural fighter with good instincts, Kieran had never really cared about conflict or leading. He'd only wanted to play and chase maids.

It was obvious Lochlan was about to face a very different man than the petulant boy who'd left home.

As they walked, he counted at least twenty knights patrolling the battlements and yard. It said much that the Scot had the money to pay them and it spoke even more to his paranoia that they were about at this time of the night. Obviously, the Scot was ready to fight anyone who threatened the sanct.i.ty of his home.

Once they reached the castle, Raziel wouldn't allow them to enter anything more than the foyer.

"Wait here and don't move."

"May I at least scratch my ear?" Catarina asked impishly.

Raziel curled his lip at her. "You think this is amusing?"

She shook her head before she answered in a sincere tone. "I never find tragedy amusing. But I do believe you see danger where only safety exists. And you grossly misjudge a good man with no knowledge of his character."

Raziel scoffed at her. "How lucky for you that your life has been so gentle that you trust so easily.

May Allah always be so kind to you."

With that spoken, he led Kestrel to the stairs.

Cat didn't move again until the two of them were out of sight. "Well," she said, turning toward Lochlan, "they're not exactly friendly here, are they?"

"Apparently not. G.o.d save them from whatever it was that has caused them to be this way."

She nodded. He was right. Their pasts must be horrible indeed to warrant this kind of security.

All of a sudden, a fierce shout rang out from the hallway above them. But it was so m.u.f.fled by the stone that they couldn't make out the words. Only the displeasure of the man's tone.

"Your brother?" she asked Lochlan.

"I know not, but I would a.s.sume so. The saints know the man always had a voice that could carry for leagues."

Cat was beginning to think this had been a wasted effort on their part as the shouting continued without letup. She could only imagine how hard this would have to be on Lochlan to have come this far only to be turned away now that they were so close.

And still the angry shouting continued.

Lochlan met her gaze an instant before he headed toward the stairs.

"Lochlan," she called, but he didn't pause as he continued on his way.

Cat lifted the hem of her gown before she followed after him. He stalked toward the chamber with determined strides that said he wasn't going to leave until he had his audience.

And as they drew closer to the room at the end, the words became audible.

"You can't just send him away," Kestrel snarled. "Not after what he's risked to come to you."

"As if I give a d.a.m.n what he risks. He wasn't there with us in the bowels of h.e.l.l. He was off in the Highlands, bedding wenches and making merry while we were being tortured and humiliated.

The devil take him to h.e.l.l where he can roast him for eternity."

Cat expected that to give Lochlan pause. Instead, it seemed to fortify him as he reached the doors and swung them wide.

All sound stopped in the wake of the echoing clatter of wood against stone.

She drew up short as she saw the face...or what was left of it of Lochlan's brother. It was all she could do not to flinch. But the greatest tragedy was that one side of it was completely perfect and told the world just how beautiful this man had once been.

The other side was scarred horribly by burns and held a single patch over his eye that was no doubt missing. Her stomach sank at the sight of it. How the man must have suffered...

Lochlan finally paused as he came face-to-face with a familiar stranger. His heart pounded as he met the one crystal eye that was the same exact color of his father's...and Kieran's. In fact, he saw much of Kieran in the features that remained undamaged by savage cruelty and yet...

The truth slammed into him with an iron fist. "You're not my brother."

The Scot let out a feral cry so raw that it actually made the hair on the back of Lochlan's neck stand up. He upturned the table before him, before he drew a sword and lunged.

Lochlan barely had time to draw his own and deflect the fierce blow that would have severed his head.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" the Scot snarled, kicking him back. He came at him, but before he could swing again, Kestrel blocked his way.

The Scot spat at Lochlan, then threw his sword at him.

Lochlan caught it in his hand and lowered it to the floor.

Still the man's eyes accused him of treachery and other things Lochlan could only guess at. "I'm as much a MacAllister as you are."

Lochlan winced as he realized the man before him must be one of his father's numerous b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. "Then I was wrong and you are my brother. For that I am grateful, but please forgive me for what I said. You're just not the brother I was hoping to apologize to."

That took the fight out of him. The Scot literally slumped against Kestrel an instant before he shoved him away.

He turned to Raziel. "I want him out of my castle. Now. Alive or dead, makes no never mind to me."

"Well it makes a difference to me," Catarina snapped. She approached the Scot with her hands on her hips. She raked a scathing glare over him as if she were taking a small child to task for his rude behavior. "How dare you, sir!"

The Scot looked aghast at her. "Have you lost your sense?"

"Nay," she said, lifting her head with pride, "I have not, but 'tis quite apparent you have."

That fired his one eye even more as a fierce muscle worked angrily in his jaw. "Woman--"

"Man!" she spat back, interrupting him. "I've heard quite enough of your ranting this night. 'Tis only right you should hear some of mine."

Lochlan wasn't sure which of them was most stunned as he exchanged a wide-eyed stare with Kestrel.

Raziel started toward her, but she stopped him dead midstride with a look so cold, Lochlan could feel the burn of it.

She then turned that frigid stare to the Scot. "What happened to you is a tragedy to be sure. And for that I am truly sorry for your loss. No man should suffer so. But you could take a moment out of your selfish life to alleviate someone else's suffering. Just once."

He advanced on her then with a lethal twist of his lips. "You know nothing of suffering. Nothing."

"And there you would be wrong, sir. Most wrong." Her voice held the strength and sincerity of a woman who had been pushed too far to back down.

She stood toe to toe with him without hesitation or fear. Lochlan had never before seen her equal.

And when she spoke again, her voice was laden with the pain of her own past and her words evoked an unrivaled anger inside him. "I know exactly what it's like to be held down and beaten for no reason whatsoever. I've tasted my own blood and have felt my teeth loosened from the blows. If you think for one moment that you are alone in the realm of suffering, then think again.

The world is filled with those who ache. If we are lucky, our outsides don't bear the scars that shred our souls. Then again, are we the lucky ones?"

She didn't really pause for his answer. "When one looks at you, my lord, they see the marks of your past and they treat you with deference over it. When you look at Lochlan or me, you judge us without knowing the price we've both paid in our pasts. How dare you. Of all people, you should know better than to do such a thing."