Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

C ree slept lightly, keeping aware of every sound he heard as his wife slept cuddled against him. He became fully alert when he heard the sound of an animal’s claws clicking along the stone passageway and then it stopped outside the bedchamber door. A snort sounded before the clicking sound began to fade away. When he heard it again later in the night, he realized the animal was patrolling the keep. If that was so, did it mean Lord Tiernan worried that his foe might find their way into the keep, or was he being cautious?

He still found it difficult to believe that the whole of Clan MacMadadh was a pack of werewolves. But he could not refute the evidence thus far. Besides, he had seen strange and unexplainable things during his travels when he was a mercenary. Things he never imagined possible. However, the werewolf tale always struck him more as a myth rather than truth. There was a Norse tribe in a remote region, the Ulfr tribe—wolf tribe—a fitting name, who believed themselves wolves. They revered wolves. They wore the heads of dead wolves and the skinned hides when going into battle and many believed them madmen and avoided them when at all possible. But they were human men who pretended to be wolves.

The werewolf tale was one of humans turning into actual wolves then turning back into humans. If bitten by a werewolf, it was believed you became one yourself. A myth or truth? He wasn’t sure what to believe. He only knew he would be glad when he and Dawn could leave here safely.

His sleep remained restless and light, keeping alert, making sure no harm came to Dawn. He had given his warriors thought, confident they had found a place to shelter from the fog. They were skilled warriors and could easily protect themselves, though how they would fare against werewolves was another matter.

He found himself slipping out of bed, his thoughts too active and heavy to get any rest. He was not one to follow orders, he was the one who gave orders and expected them to be obeyed without question. It was difficult for him to follow another man’s rule, but then what did he know of werewolves?

Cree bolted out of the chair when he heard what sounded like two snarling animals viciously fighting from somewhere in the keep.

Dawn’s eyes sprang wide, the alarming sound waking her, and she glanced anxiously at her husband.

“Something is amiss,” he said but had no idea what it might be.

He wanted to go see for himself, but he didn’t want to leave his wife alone and vulnerable. Though he could be leaving them both vulnerable if he didn’t see for himself what was happening.

The disturbing sound came again.

Dawn got out of bed and went to slip her shoes on.

Cree hurried to help her, knowing she had made the decision for him. They would go together.

She shook her finger at him when he looked ready to argue, concerned at what they might be walking into.

“You stay close, but run, if necessary,” he ordered.

Dawn nodded, not bothering to argue with him or to remind him that she had no place to run.

Cree kept his sword in hand as they proceeded cautiously down the stairs and to the Great Hall, hearing no more vicious snarling as they went. When they entered the room, it was to find Lord Tiernan sitting shirtless at one of the tables, blood covering his shoulder and chest and a man lying dead on the ground, his head nearly torn off him and a headpiece made from the head of a wolf lying not far from him while wolf pelts clothed his body. A short staff with a wolf paw attached to the top of it, its claws extended lay nearby as well.

Lynall, her hands trembling, was just beginning to clean Lord Tiernan’s wounds while Olwen sat pale and trembling at a nearby table, Brigid tending to her.

Cree kept his wife tucked behind him as he looked down at the dead man, thinking it wasn’t possible. The crazy tribe who thought themselves wolves were too far north. What could they be doing here?

Dawn watched as her husband drew his shoulders back and his body tensed so badly that his muscles bulged to the point that they looked as if they would burst. He had had enough. The fierce and impatient mercenary in him was about to emerge.

“I have no patience left, Lord Tiernan,” Cree said with such powerful strength that everyone there leaned back as if his words had struck them. “You will tell me the truth or so help me I will kill you myself.” He pointed to the dead man. “I know of this vicious tribe. What is one of their warriors doing here in your castle?”

Lord Tiernan glared at Cree.

“Don’t bother to tell me that it doesn’t concern me. If I am willing to raise my sword for you, then I will know who I am raising it against and why.”

Lord Tiernan acquiesced with a bit of reluctance. “An old enemy of Clan MacMadadh.”

“Why? What made the Ulfr tribe your enemy when they believe themselves wolves and MacMadadh means son of the wolf? That would make you family.”

Dawn went to go to Olwen to see if she could help in any way, the woman appearing far too pale.

“Stay where you are, Dawn!” Cree ordered sharply. “You will not go near any of them until Lord Tiernan explains.”

Dawn knew when to obey her husband’s commands and when she could safely ignore them. This was a time to obey him, and she remained by him but not behind him.

Lord Tiernan did not look too pleased as he said, “You are no doubt familiar with how tales told to entertain grow outrageously in the Highlands, creating unbelievable legends. Due to past actions of some of my ancestors, a myth grew around Clan MacMadadh, leaving many to suspect us of being werewolves. The Ulfr tribe believes the tales and considers us cursed and unworthy of being associated with wolves. To them, we are an abomination and do not deserve to live.”

Cree’s response shocked everyone. “And are you werewolves?”

“An unnecessary question considering our last conversation.”

“I would think the same until I saw this,” Cree said, pointing to the warrior on the floor. “His head has nearly been severed by what looks like a vicious animal attack. Can you explain that?”

“The dead man was more vicious than a wolf, snarling, snapping, growling,” Olwen cried out. “He cornered me and was about to rip me to shreds with that claw staff and his pointed teeth when Lord Tiernan arrived. He didn’t stop even after several strikes of his lordship’s weapon, he kept coming. He was a madman.”

“You are safe, Olwen. All is well,” Lord Tiernan said to calm her.

“Not if there are more of these warriors lurking about,” Cree said. “And how was this one able to make his way into the keep?”

“The fog and his knowledge of wolves and how they hunt allowed him to slip past our defenses,” Sim said, entering the room and sending a quick glance at Lord Tiernan.

“But why a lone warrior?” Cree asked, searching all their faces to see if any of them questioned as he did and not one of them looked puzzled. “Or is he a lone warrior?”

“We will talk privately, Lord Cree, as soon as Lynall finishes seeing to my wound,” Lord Tiernan said.

Cree nodded. “A wise decision.”

Olwen stepped forward, color returning to her face. “I will fetch a hot brew and have Cook start the morning meal early.”

Cree looked around. “Are there no servants to help her? She has suffered a fright and should rest.”

“I need no rest, sir. I am good and the other servants will wake soon enough to see to their chores,” Olwen said and left the room, her gait strong.

Lord Tiernan nodded to Brigid. She returned the nod and followed Olwen out of the room.

Cree turned to Dawn and slipped his arm around her to walk her away from the others where they could talk more privately. “You will wait here while I speak with Tiernan. There is more to this than he is telling me.”

Dawn scrunched her brow and shrugged, asking what he meant.

“I cannot see the Ulfr tribe holding any animosity against Clan MacMadadh. The opposite would make more sense. If they believed the clan were werewolves, wouldn’t they want to learn their secret so they could actually turn into wolves themselves rather than pretend to turn into wolves?”

Dawn raised her brow at the thought and nodded, thinking that would make sense.

“And the Ulfr certainly wouldn’t attack a clan they believe to be wolves; they revere them too much.”

Dawn shrugged again, confused.

“Aye, it is confusing and worse, the various scenarios of what the Ulfr warrior was truly doing here leaves me more concerned than the thought of werewolves.”

“Lord Cree,” Lord Tiernan called out. “We will talk now.”

Cree turned to see that part of Lord Tiernan’s shoulder and chest were bandaged, but the man did not cringe, not even a little as he slipped on his shirt. The wounds he had seen on Tiernan should have left him with painful movements, but he moved without the slightest discomfit.

“Make sure to stay here,” Cree said, then thought better of it. “Unless you feel in danger, then do not hesitate to come get me.”

Dawn nodded and fear roiled her stomach after Cree left her sitting at a table before he took his leave with Lord Tiernan. She had the horrible feeling that things were about to get worse.

“Do not waste my time, Tiernan,” Cree said as soon as the door to the solar closed. “I want the truth.”

“Once a secret is spoken it is no longer a secret and just as you would not leave your clan vulnerable, neither will I, which is the agreement we reached in our previous conversation. The Ulfr tribe is not friend nor foe to us. My ancestors struck an agreement with them years ago, finding it in both our interests to avoid each other, our beliefs different, and since then we have had no contact with each other.”

“Are you saying the dead warrior is not from the Ulfr tribe?”

“At one time he probably was, but I would guess he is either an outcast, his tribe or pack, as they often refer to themselves, having forced him out or he chose to leave to start his own tribe and failed, leaving him a lone wolf, adrift on his own.”

“And they seek to prove their worth by trying to kill the laird of Clan MacMadadh?” Cree asked.

“Nay, they usually seek permission to join the clan, missing the camaraderie of their tribe. The wolves in the area usually do a good job of forcing them away.”

“Usually? Has any made it here like the one tonight?”

“Only one other time before this has one managed to reach us,” Lord Tiernan admitted.

Cree didn’t need to think long about who that might be. “Dolan, the one whose cottage it was where I found the wolf cub.”

“How did you know?”

“All the wolf pelts and the head of a wolf in the cottage. Old habits are not easy to break.”

“He does it in honor of the wolves who die. He has been with us for some time. He wed one of our own, had two children, and buried his wife and one child. He is a loyal member of the clan.”

“But the Ulfr warrior lying dead in the Great Hall was not interested in joining the clan. He was here for a specific reason… to kill—” Cree’s brow scrunched in thought, revisiting, in his head, the scene in the Great Hall. What was amiss about it? The wrinkles in his brow deepened trying to recall what had been out of place. He poured over the scene again and again, until… “Lynall’s hands were shaking. Even when I proved frightening to her, her hands never trembled. She was the one the Ulfr warrior was trying to kill not Olwen. Who is Lynall that an Ulfr warrior would want her dead?”

Dawn watched how Lynall’s hands trembled as she lifted a tankard to her lips. She waited until she placed the tankard back on the table to reach out and lightly tap her trembling hands, then she shrugged.

Lynall released the tankard to grip her hands together. “It’s been an upsetting night.”

Dawn understood though she wondered if there was more to Lynall’s response. Cree could frighten with a look or a word and while Lynall may have paled when her husband displayed his authority, she had never trembled in fear. It was obvious she was fearful, but why?

Dawn smiled and nodded.

“You should continue to rest, Lady Dawn, so you will be well healed when the fog lifts and you can leave here,” Lynall said, then anxiously added, “but no harm will come to you here. You are safe. The wolves don’t harm humans unless the humans try to harm them.”

Keeping her smile gentle, Dawn nodded and saw how Lynall kept glancing at the bloody spot where the dead warrior had been, his body having been removed.

Dawn tapped Lynall’s arm to get her attention, then pointed to the bloody spot and tapped near her eye and pointed to Lynall’s eyes, hoping her gestures were understood.

“Aye, I saw the fight. It was terrible.” Lynall shut her eyes briefly as if trying to shut out the images.

Snarls, snaps, and growls sounded at the door and had Dawn and Lynall jumping to their feet.

Dawn pointed for them to leave, intending to get to Cree.

Lynall nodded. “Aye, we need to leave.”

The door burst open before they could take a step and four men rushed in, stopping when they spotted Dawn and Lynall.

“Which one is it?” one of the men asked.

“I don’t know, but we have to hurry, or the wolves will be on us,” another said.

“Take them both and hurry,” one ordered.