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S even

T ORQUIL STOOD IN the center of his tower chamber, as he had since before the first light of day broke through the open window: hands pressed together in front of him, eyes closed, back straight. His mind fought to overcome the human weakness he’d yet to eliminate from his soul.

Until he found a way to push aside that small piece of him that had not come from Odin, he wouldn’t have the ability to master the spell from the ancient scroll he’d found hidden in his father’s things.

His jaw tightened as a wave of anger shimmered through his mind.

As if his father thought he’d never find those things.

His eyes opened and he allowed his arms to drop to his sides. Pain lanced through the muscles held in position for so many hours but he ignored it, envisioning himself scooping the pain into a large wooden chest and slamming the lid shut.

That, he had mastered. That and a million other little feats of Magic.

But those amazing abilities spoken of in the scroll, ah, those were passed down from the ancient seid, from the darkest corners of Svartálfheim.

The words written on those scrolls represented a dark power.

The True power. To be able to disappear in one place and materialize in another excited his imagination in a way none of the other powers had for a very long time.

And that power would be his, no matter how long it took him to master it.

“But not, it appears, on this day.”

Once the anger slithered into his mind, it robbed him of his concentration. And without concentration, he had no chance at mastering the ancient Magic.

He walked across to the table and ran his hand over the yellowed parchment before lovingly rolling it into its former cylindrical shape and replacing it in the jeweled case where it belonged—right next to its twin and their deadly companion, the Sword of the Ancients.

It was as if his father had planned this misery for his son long before his untimely death.

As if the old man had hidden the scrolls for the purpose of taunting Torquil, after he himself was no longer able to, knowing that the act would trigger his son’s anger.

Knowing that Torquil’s anger would prevent his mastering that which he wanted more than anything.

“More’s the pity I waited so long to send you where you belong, Father.

” He spoke to the sky but he had no doubt his father’s spirit was not there.

After the way his father had contaminated their ancient bloodline by taking that filthy Tinkler for his second wife, there was no way the gods would have allowed him to spend his eternity anywhere but in the agony of Hela’s domain.

Below him, in the courtyard, movement caught his eye. Two strangers stood encircled by his guards.

Likely more new recruits. Strangers had been trickling in to augment his forces for weeks now.

Ulfr had returned yesterday bringing several new faces with him, and others had been dispatched to hire as many men as they could find.

Come spring, Malcolm would taste the fruits of his revenge when he marched his army south on Castle MacGahan.

When he finished with them there would be nothing left behind, and no one to remember his brother had ever existed.

Something about the little gathering below snagged his attention again and held it.

Something odd in Ulfr’s manner as he dealt with the newcomers.

When his captain turned to face his direction and raised his arm, Torquil felt quite strongly that his presence was needed in the courtyard.

Perhaps because he’d recently mastered the ability to call Ulfr to him when he chose to do so.

He returned the jeweled case to its hiding spot behind the stones above the fireplace. No one would dare enter his tower chamber without his permission, but neither the scroll nor the sword was an item he’d want falling into the wrong hands.

He made his way to the main entrance of the castle and paused at the top of the staircase to eye the newcomers. He liked what he saw well enough to descend the stairs and approach the gathering of men.

Not the toothless vermin his men usually dragged back to serve him. These two had the look of breeding about them. Both appeared strong and well fed. Though the younger of the two dressed oddly, these were the types of warriors he wanted to fill the ranks of his army.

“My lord.” Ulfr rose from his knee, eyes still averted. “These Irish wish to . . .” He paused, looking uncomfortable. “They wish to bargain with you for their service.”

“Bargain with me?” Laughter crawled up Torquil’s throat, but he swallowed it. He’d rarely heard such a foolhardy request. “Bargain away, warriors. What would you have of me for the use of your swords?”

The larger of the two men stepped forward, ignoring the ring of steel as Ulfr drew his weapon. Supreme confidence. Torquil liked that in a man. Especially in a man who served him.

“My brother was set upon by thieves along the road. He needs proper clothing and a good weapon to replace that which was taken from him, along with a suitable mount. I assume you have a healer. We need access to her skills as well, or at least to her supply of herbs.” The big Irishman leaned forward, grinning as the tip of Ulfr’s sword touched his chest. “And silver, of course. We’ll both be wanting plenty of silver for our efforts, good sir. ”

“And are you worth such a large investment on my part?”

“We are,” the younger man answered. “All that he asked for, and more.”

The laughter in Torquil’s throat burst forth. What grand audacity these Irish brothers showed! They amused him as none had in a very long time.

“Then let it be so,” he said as his laughter subsided. “Ulfr, take them to my sister and then provide them with whatever they need.”

Turning from them, he strode back toward the staircase that would lead him inside Tordenet, feeling well pleased. With such bravado, he’d have high expectations for them. They were certainly different from any he’d yet seen enter his—

His foot skidded to a stop and he turned to stare after the men being led to his sister’s tower.

They were different.

What was it Christiana had said about her Vision of the man who would determine the outcome of his plans? That he would be somehow different from all the others. That he would have interaction with her.

Access to the healer was among the first requests these men had made. And even now they were on their way to Christiana’s tower.

These two would bear watching. One of them could very well be the man he’d searched for.

Torquil smiled. His plans seemed to be progressing even more quickly than he had hoped. Now he must do his part to be ready.

All the more reason to continue his efforts to master the Magic of the ancient scroll.