Page 13 of Dalla’s Royal Guards (Second Chance #3)

Seven

Dalla descended the hill and crossed the dusty road to the abandoned hut nestled in the rocky terrain on the other side.

Pascal—no, Musad —trailed after her.

Her steps slowed as she neared the bottom of the canyon, the rough stone cool beneath her feet, and there was Nasser, waiting patiently. The subtle differences between him and Gerold were striking now that she was looking; his hands, his posture, and even the way his hair fell spoke volumes.

Just as there is between Musad and Pascal.

They were very different men from the ones she remembered.

Just as the times had changed, she thought, glancing at the different vehicles.

“I hope you have food in one of your carriages. It has been a long time since I have eaten,” she said.

“We do,” Nasser said as she continued past him.

She explored the outer buildings first, familiarizing herself with them before she made her way to the hut. There were no windows in the stone-and-mud structure. No door either. She was surprised that the roof was still mostly intact.

Her gaze swept over the two men who looked up when she entered. The injured man—Colin—was lying on a makeshift pallet on the ground while the other man rose to his feet when she entered. She smiled at Colin when he struggled to sit up.

“Rest easy, warrior,” she said gently.

“You’ve been talking to Andre,” Colin joked before he winced.

She laughed. “ Nei . I know the pain of such wounds.”

“You’ve been shot before?” Nasser asked from behind her.

She turned and nodded. “Yes. Many times. The last time was when the world was burning.”

“When was that?” Musad asked.

“Is that a real bow? It looks like the one from my picture books,” a childish voice said.

“Cianna, come back into the room,” a woman instructed.

“Aw, Nanna. We’ve been hiding for so long. I want to see the lady from my book,” Cianna complained.

Dalla chuckled. “My sisters also hated being confined, especially Runa. Come, I will show you something.”

Cianna hurried forward. She clutched a fabric dog in one arm and a rainbow-colored unicorn under the other. Dalla knelt and held out her bow. Over the centuries, she had carved on it the dates and scenes from each of her appearances. Only space remained for one more story—and this would be it.

“Oh, how beautiful,” Cianna whispered, running her fingers along the symbols. “What does it say?”

“The carvings tell of my journey since I left my homeland. You see this one. This is my parents and my sisters and brother,” she explained.

“I don’t have any sisters or brothers. What does this mean?” Cianna asked.

The smile on her face faded as she touched the numbers carved into the ancient oak. She studied the curious expression on the little girl’s face. Reaching out, she tucked a loose strand of Cianna’s hair behind her ear, the action hauntingly familiar.

“It is the last time I saw my family.”

“I’ve heated some meals,” Nanna said.

Dalla rose and smiled at the older woman. “My stomach thanks you.”

Nanna chuckled. “Wait until you eat it before you say that.”

Dalla took the pouch and long spoon Nanna held out to her and bowed her head in thanks, then turned and walked outside. She needed the open space.

The temperatures were dropping, and there was a chill in the air. The pouch was warm, a welcome contrast to the night’s chill. She walked over to a grouping of rocks that had been placed around a low-burning fire. This was a place frequented by travelers.

She sat down, leaned her bow against the rock, and removed the quiver from her back before leaning it against her leg to keep it from falling. Her clothing helped protect her from the heat of the day and the cold of the night. A sense of peace flowed over her as she stared up at the stars.

“We’ll set up a place to sleep in the back of the vehicles,” Musad said, placing a jacket next to her before he moved to sit on a rock across from her.

She fingered the material before dragging it over her lap. Nasser walked around the fire to sit on a rock next to his brother. He stretched out his long legs and stirred his meal. Both men had shrugged into jackets.

She sniffed the food Nanna had given her. Surprise filled her at the delicious aroma coming from the pouch. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation. She stirred the meal before taking a bite of the rich stew contained inside.

“This is very good,” she said, holding up the pouch.

Both men laughed. “It tastes like a gourmet meal when you’re hungry,” Nasser agreed.

“I like the desserts,” Musad mumbled.

“Musad has a sweet tooth,” Nasser shared.

Dalla chuckled. “Olaf and Runa shared a love of sweets. They loved to suck on the honey Far would bring back from his travels.”

“ Far ?” Nasser asked.

“My father,” she clarified.

“Where are you from?” Nasser asked.

She shrugged and took another bite before she replied. “I believe you call it Norway.”

“Norway is beautiful,” Musad said.

“ Ja . It was very beautiful. I have not been there for a very long time.”

She continued eating. The warm food, the crackle of the fire, and the soothing ambience of the starry night relaxed her. She knew better than to lower her guard. Her mission here was not finished.

“When was the last time you were there?” Nasser inquired.

Her lips quirked into a rueful smile. “Too long.”

“How long is too long?” Musad pressed.

Her gaze locked with Musad’s. “Be careful what you ask, Musad. You may not like—or believe—the answers. I promised earlier to tell you the truth. I keep my word.”

“We’ll hold you to your promise. So, how long ago?” Musad insisted.

“My first life ended in the year 832 A.D.”

“Your first life? What does that mean?” Musad asked in a voice filled with disbelief and confusion.

“I’m still trying to process 832 A.D.,” Nasser muttered.

Dalla huffed and shook her head. “The short story: I was born in the year 813 A.D., died in 832 A.D., and have lived and died hundreds of times since. I am alive now. Once I finish my mission here, I will die again,” she explained, pushing aside the jacket on her lap, tossing the remains of her meal in the fire, and rising.

“Where are you going?” Nasser demanded, standing.

One eyebrow arched in challenge. “To relieve myself. That’s something else I haven’t done in a while.”

Nasser flushed and grunted as she walked off into the darkness. With a low grumble, he dropped back onto the rock. When Musad rose and stepped around the fire, he looked up in surprise. His expression darkened when his brother picked up Dalla’s longbow.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Musad angled the bow and studied the carvings. “She said the carvings told the tale of her journey since she left home,” Musad replied.

“Do you believe her?”

Musad snorted. “Does she look over a thousand years old to you? Yeah, me either. No, I don’t believe her. What I don’t understand is why she would try to give such an outlandish explanation.”

Nasser shrugged and shook his head. “Damned if I know.” He stood when Donovan appeared out of the darkness. “How is Colin?”

“Resting. I connected with Team 2. A helicopter will meet us the minute we get across the border at 0630,” Donovan said.

“You received clearance from Simdan?” Musad asked.

Donovan chuckled and nodded. “It helps to have friends in high places. We’ve been given clearance.”

“Let us hope that Kashir’s new government adheres to its neighbor’s airspace,” Musad replied.

“If they don’t want to feel the sharp bullet of Raja Hadi, they better,” Donovan responded.

“That’s true,” Musad chuckled.

“Where’s our mysterious guest?” Donovan asked, looking around.

“Visiting the lady’s room,” Nasser said.

“Ah, let’s hope she doesn’t get lost in the dark,” Donovan commented.

Nasser’s eyes widened, and he looked at his brother.

Neither had thought of that possibility.

He muttered a curse and rose. Before he could take off in the direction Dalla had disappeared, she stepped into the light of the fire.

She lifted an eyebrow when she noticed Musad holding her longbow.

Walking over to her quiver, she retrieved it before stepping around the fire and holding her hand out.

“I will take a shift to watch for danger,” she announced.

“That won’t be necessary. The others can do it. Why don’t you get some rest? We’ll be heading out early tomorrow morning,” Nasser said.

She smiled slightly as she looked into Musad’s eyes and wrapped her hand around her bow. He reluctantly released it to her.

“ Nei . I have rested long enough.”

Before any of them could protest, she blended into the night again. Musad shoved his hands into his pockets as Donovan released a low whistle. Nasser wanted to glare at his brother for letting her go, but really, what was he supposed to have done? Tied her up? Taken her bow and run?

“She is light on her feet,” Donovan murmured with appreciation.

“I’m going after her,” Nasser said.

“I’m going with you. Donovan—” Musad began.

“I’ll keep an eye on Nanna and Cianna,” Donovan assured them.

Nasser grabbed the jacket Musad had placed next to Dalla and followed what he hoped was the path she had taken.

Away from the fire, only the light from the brilliant stars and the small crescent moon lit the rocky trail.

They climbed to the top of the hill where Dalla and Musad had disappeared earlier.

He zipped his jacket when the cold seeped through the opening. Dalla sat silhouetted against the night sky. She was sitting on a large boulder and staring out across the valley.

He walked across and sat down to her right while Musad took her left. She took the jacket he held out and pulled it on before she wrapped her hands around her longbow.

“You two are persistent,” she mused.

“I like to think of us as curious,” Nasser replied.

“It’s cold up here,” Musad muttered.

She laughed. The sound was warm and full.

“You don’t know what cold is until you’ve lived through a Norwegian winter in 832.

It was Runa who was a baby about the cold then.

She always insisted on being in the middle when we shared a bed.

Aesa and I would always complain that her feet were like ice even with her in the warmest spot.

” Her laughter faded. “I miss them… my family.”

“What happened to them?” Nasser asked.

Dalla continued to stare out into the distance. She wasn’t shocked that the men had followed her. Since their first meeting, one or the other had been beside her except when she had gone to relieve her bladder.

She folded her hands together around the curved staff of her bow and weighed the consequences of sharing her life. The little girl had said there were picture books about her. She wondered what those stories said—how much was true, how much imagined.

It is better to find out how these men will react to the truth sooner rather than later, she decided.

She found it difficult to describe how Jarl Leifsson’s greed had led to the death of her entire Thorpe and the death of all his sons.

The sharp edges of this story had not faded with retellings—because she had never shared her past with anyone but Gerold and Pascal.

Superstitions could have devastating consequences. She had learned that the hard way.

Even with the distance of time, it felt like it had happened only yesterday.

She wound her arms around her waist. Caught up in her memories, she wasn’t aware that the two men behind her had risen.

A soft, shuddering sigh slipped into the night as she told them of her family’s death and her own, told them what should have been the end of her story, but had instead been a beginning.

“What happened after that?” Nasser inquired.

“I woke. Time had passed. It was the year 1052, and I was in Britain. T’was a miserable time. I was thankful that I was not there for long,” she said with a shudder.

“You mentioned Gerold and Pascal,” Musad commented.

Her expression softened. “They were good men. Gerold had been the serious one. Pascal chased adventure, which often caught the two in situations that compromised them.”

“You keep staring out at the mountains. What is there that is so fascinating?” Musad asked.

She was silent. “A promise… from an old friend.”