Page 7

S ix

G LEAMS LIKE A jewel in the sun, does she?” Halldor muttered. “My arse!”

Chase bit back a grin at his new friend’s irritation.

That whole sun description thing was of course dependent upon the sun actually shining.

If he’d needed anything to convince him he was in Scotland rather than Montana, the weather here was doing its best to accommodate, alternating between plain overcast gray and cold gray drizzle.

Definitely not the semi-arid, sunny landscape he’d ridden through only days before.

“How are your feet holding up?” Halldor asked.

Chase shrugged. “They hurt like hell.”

Thanks to the inopportune moment the Faeries had chosen for zapping him through time, not only had he ended up without clothing, he also had no shoes.

From his big leather bag, Halldor had produced a couple of thick, furry skins and a length of fine cord for Chase to secure them around his feet.

They provided protection and warmth but weren’t sturdy enough for the two days of walking he’d just put in.

He was pretty sure he’d worn a hole in the bottom of one of them.

“A bother it is that I parted with my spare animal before we met. Should we stop for a rest?”

Though Halldor attempted nonchalance, keeping his eyes fixed to the road ahead of them, Chase could hear the concern in his friend’s voice.

The man had more than earned Chase’s admiration over the past two days.

Not once had he pursued any of what he had to see as strange questions that Chase asked.

Only once had he remarked on Chase’s past, and that was simply to comment on the tattoo emblazoned on Chase’s upper arm.

Halldor had laughed and joked, had accepted him without question, and had done everything in his power to help Chase.

He even walked his own horse behind them, matching Chase step for step when he easily could have ridden.

“No. Let’s keep going. It’ll be fine.”

It would be, too. Of all the skills he’d gained during his tours in Afghanistan, endurance was high on the list.

Halldor nodded and pointed down the trail. “It’s not what I’d call gleaming by any stretch, but does that not look like a white tower off there in the distance?”

It did indeed.

Another hour of steady walking and they reached the massive gates.

“Wow,” Chase murmured as they at last drew close. The rock walls stretched out in both directions, encompassing an enormous area.

“Impressive, indeed,” Halldor agreed. “Let’s see if the MacDowylt laird who rules here is equally impressive.”

“State yer business or be off with you,” a man called down from the wall above them.

“We’re here to see your laird, the Lord of the Katanes. We were sent by one of your own, Artur, right hand to Ulfr.”

Chase felt like he’d just fallen into a scene straight out of a Tolkien book. When the heavy chains began to clank and the metal grate slowly lifted, he half expected to see a horde of angry orcs raging out.

He shook his head at his own fancy. That healthy dose of skepticism lasted halfway into the tunnel leading to the castle yard, at which point it deserted him entirely.

A shiver ran down his spine and he took a deep breath, as if some strange, heavy air surrounded them. Beside him, Halldor took a similar deep breath.

Chase slowed to a stop, looking over his shoulder at the metal grate sliding back into place behind them. The bizarre events of the last few days must finally be taking their toll. Either that, or he was headed down the batshit-crazy trail.

“This is where I need to be,” he whispered, reminding himself that there was a reason for everything.

His father had promised him as a child that one day the Fae would send him to his destiny, and since this was where they had sent him, this was obviously where he belonged.

And if he was where he belonged, perhaps she was here—the woman he’d waited his whole life to find.

“What is it that troubles you, my friend?” Halldor’s footsteps had ceased as well, his expression more serious than Chase had seen it before.

“Nothing. Weird vibe to this place, that’s all.”

They both began to move forward again, their steps a bit slower than they had been. With the grate clanking down behind them, they were committed to their forward course.

“This ‘vibe’ you speak of, is it a feeling that crawls upon your skin?”

Chase nodded, glancing up at his friend. Halldor’s eyes were fixed ahead of him on their destination. If Chase was on the batshit-crazy trail, at least he wasn’t marching down it alone.

Armed warriors ringed the entrance as they emerged from the tunnel. One of their number stepped forward, his hand on the sword at his side.

“I am Ulfr, captain of the MacDowylt’s personal guard. Your names?”

“I am Halldor O’Donar and this . . .” Halldor paused, one corner of his mouth twitching up as he glanced in Chase’s direction. “This is my brother Chase.”

Only years of training allowed Chase to school his expression. Whatever reason his friend had for introducing him as such, he’d honor it. Halldor had given him no cause to doubt him.

“O’Donar, eh?” Ulfr asked, strutting back and forth in front of them, reminding Chase of a shooting-gallery duck. Or maybe a peacock on parade. “Irish, are you? What brings you to Scotland?”

“I did indeed cross the sea from the island,” Halldor agreed. “To find my brother.” He slapped Chase on the back, his usual big grin returned to his face.

“And now you’ve come to Tordenet to join us in service to our laird.” Ulfr spoke as if their reason for being here was a foregone conclusion. “Orwen will show you to yer quarters in the—”

“Not so fast, Ulfr, captain of the guard,” Halldor interrupted. “I would bargain for the price of our service before we commit ourselves. I would meet the man to whom we offer our weapons.”

“Impossible,” Ulfr huffed. “It is not done in that way at Tordenet.”

“Nevertheless, this is the way I do it,” Halldor replied, his determination on display with every word. “I would have this laird of yours come out to meet with us. I would look him in the eye to judge the cut of his cloth before we pledge our swords to him.”

Surprise danced across Ulfr’s expression before he turned away to focus his gaze upward. In the tallest tower, a face peered down at them from a large window. Ulfr lifted an arm and the face withdrew.

“Our laird will join us momentarily.”

They waited, surrounded by a contingent of men with their swords drawn. Waited in a silence so uncomfortable Chase wondered that Halldor didn’t draw his own sword. Apparently even ancient warriors understood the importance of not letting them see you sweat.

At last a man appeared at the top of the huge staircase at the castle entrance.

He was tall, close to Chase’s own height and build, with blond hair similar in color to Chase’s.

There the similarity ended. This guy was pretty-boy blond, with hair down around his shoulders.

After a closer look, Chase saw that two odd white streaks shot through his hair, one on either side of his head.

The assembled men all dropped to one knee as he approached.

“Ah,” Halldor breathed. “It would appear, little brother, that we have both found the place we need to be.”