A Warrior’s Heart by Misty M. Beller
20
Evan forced his breathing to stay steady as he strained to hear every sound that drifted from Philip’s sleeping form. Several hours must have passed since midnight. The man should be in his deepest sleep.
The entire village should be asleep after the feast, probably even whichever young woman currently had the task of keeping the fire burning in their solarium. He wasn’t sure exactly where that garden was located, but Brielle had pointed toward the far side of the courtyard, so he was fairly sure he wouldn’t be in danger of running into the keeper of the fire.
With every part of his body strung as tight as a fiddle, he pulled himself up to sitting. No change in Philip’s gentle snores, so he pushed to his hands and feet, then straightened.
He eyed the dark outline of his packs. He kept a knife hidden in the lining of the larger case. Should he pull it out, along with a bit of leather to buffer the sound of his blade on stone, or take the entire satchel? The latter would probably make less noise. And that way, he’d have everything he needed to quickly hack enough pitchblende.
If the job went well, he would take enough for the scientists to not only test the stone but make a single explosion to ensure their plan would work. The army would still have to send hordes of men up to get enough pitchblende to destroy the British troops and end the war for good, but all he’d been tasked with gathering was enough to verify that the plan would work and that an explosion that large was possible.
He used all his stealth training to creep to his packs and lift the larger one to his shoulder without letting the contents inside jingle, then made his way to the door.
He’d studied the bar on the door for a solid hour to determine the best way to lift it without making a clink. Now, he tipped the pin at an angle and eased both the inside and outside bars up. As soon as the door gave, he grabbed the bars and pulled the door just enough to slip through. He had to take the same care to lower the metal, but everything went as he’d planned. Philip’s soft snores still drifted from inside the room.
Thank you, Lord, he thought, though the cloud of guilt that hovered around him seemed to stop the prayer from ascending to God’s ear. Why did this deception feel so wrong? He was accomplishing the mission his commanders had assigned him. The mission he’d sworn on a Bible to uphold. Surely God wanted him to do everything he could to fulfill his promise.
Yet he was breaking the trust Brielle had begun to show in him.
He moved down the corridor without making more sound than an occasional rustle of his clothing.
Brielle was the one he most worried about hearing him. She seemed to have the senses of a cat. But unless she could sense his presence without actually hearing or seeing him, she shouldn’t know he was out here.
But then, when she was in the same room as him, he always knew exactly where she was without seeing or hearing her. As though his body tracked her without his mind telling it to. If she could do the same, he was in trouble.
He finally reached the door to the giant room where they’d held the feast. He’d tried to spot signs of pitchblende in the hallway, but the darkness made variations in the stone impossible to see.
The community room would be easier to take samples from anyway. The urge to open the door and slip inside tugged him, but he forced himself to work with the same level of care he’d used on his cell door. Thankfully, this one only had a single bar on the outside. He laid the bar soundlessly on the floor and eased open one of the double doors.
Inside, all was dark. He felt along the wall until he reached the first torch. Better to light this one and move it with him than chance stumbling and making a noise loud enough to draw someone.
He found the Lucifer match in his pack and lit the torch. Light blazed through the room, and he took the first full breath he’d risked since rising from his pallet.
Gathering his pack and the torch, he aimed straight for the place where he’d seen the orange coloring in the stone. Before he started cutting, he needed to check all the walls and see how much was visible on the surface.
He’d have at least an hour, if his sense of timing was accurate. But he had to make sure he was back on his pallet before the earliest risers began their day.
The orange coloring appeared at several different levels in at least five places along that wall. That would be enough for the army to send miners and scientists all the way up here. It may not be as much pitchblende as they needed, but this much on the surface likely meant a great deal more could be found in the stone.
He started on one of the softer spots, wrapping cloth over the head of his chisel to stop the ring of metal as he struck with the hammer. When he’d shown Brielle the contents of his packs, he’d told her some of the uses for these along the journey, like holding a rope to spread oilcloth over him in the midst of a downpour.
But he’d not told her the main reason he brought them. One more omission he’d have to set straight. As committed as he was to speaking only the truth, so many of his actions lately felt like lies.
The sooner he got away from this business of being a spy, the better.
The tension in his body stretched tighter with the first blow of his hammer. The muffled ching seemed to vibrate in his skull, and he paused to strain for any sound of someone coming.
No cries of alarm, no thud of footsteps. Not even the rustle of fabric reached his ears. He eased out a shaky breath and went back to work.
It only took a few minutes to dislodge the first chunk of orange rock and check the piece the way the army’s scientist had shown him.
The stone was, indeed, pitchblende. His worst fears confirmed.
With his chest twisting like a massive hand gripped it, he studied the line of orange rock. He had possibly three quarters of an hour left—not long enough to gather it all, but he couldn’t risk more this time. What he’d done would be easy to see if someone came in and studied the wall, but hopefully they didn’t use this room very often. At least, not this side of the huge chamber. No matter. He would tell Brielle everything before his work was discovered anyway.
As a fresh wave of bile churned in his middle, he adjusted the leather over the head of his chisel and pounded another blow.
Dark snow clouds rolled in during the night. By the time Brielle stepped out into the partial darkness to begin her morning hunt, an icy wind blew, and the first flakes were beginning to fall. The heavy clouds couldn’t press the smile from her face every time she thought of Evan’s kiss, nor the lightness inside her. Though the cold definitely seemed determined to freeze every bit of her good sentiment into an icy block.
Their trading friends were wise to leave after the feast the evening before. Snow had been threatening even then, and they’d not wanted to chance staying the night. The two men were likely halfway through their journey by now.
Perhaps she was foolish going out to hunt with snow beginning to fall. But experience had taught her that if she could find a herd of caribou or elk holed up in woods or in the gap between two mountains, that meat would help feed her people even if the snow lasted a week.
She had to at least try.
She found nothing at the first two sections of trees where herds sometimes took shelter. As she set off for the next area, the wind blew heavy flakes in thick swirls around her. She’d not brought snowshoes because a thick ice crust had formed over the previous snow, but this fresh layer was now deep enough to cover her feet as she walked.
When she reached the canopy of barren tree limbs, a reindeer started out of the shelter, moving away from her. It looked like a young buck who’d been separated from the herd. Those animals didn’t usually scare so easily when together, but the storm must have it on edge.
The only game left under these trees was a single hare, and she quickly sent a well-placed arrow, then readied the carcass for the trek back to Laurent.
As she pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, a long sigh slipped out. Useless hunts didn’t usually bother her. In truth, spending quiet hours wandering the mountains renewed her. Perhaps part of the refreshing effect came from the exertion, drawing in deep invigorating breaths as she clambered over rocks and down slopes.
With the majesty of the peaks rising around her, staring out over the vast wilderness of spires stretching to the heavens, it was impossible not to realize the magnificence of God. That the Creator could make all this and still know who she was—it put proper perspective both on how great He was and how much He loved her.
Another frigid gust sent a shiver through her. This would be a bad storm, the first hard snowfall to commence the depths of winter.
As she neared the village walls, she sent the call that she was approaching. Only a faint response sounded through the swirling snow. Even the guards must be taking refuge from the worsening storm. Surely no threat would be out in this swirling gale.
She headed straight for her door, her insides aching for both warmth and food. She probably should have broken her fast with more than a sip of warm water before heading out.
The wind nearly jerked the door out of her hands as she slipped into their apartment. Inside, the blast of warmth soaked around her, stinging her cheeks. Charlotte knelt by the fire, pouring liquid in a cup. She rose with the mug and stepped toward Brielle, offering a smile. “You must be frozen.”
“Oui.” Her teeth chattered even with that single word. She couldn’t yet bring herself to unwrap the layers of furs around her.
She took the cup from Charlotte and lifted the warm brew to her face, letting the steam thaw her for a minute before she attempted to drink.
The burn of the first sip seared all the way down. She let out a long sigh and managed a frozen smile for her sister. “That’s good.” Charlotte always infused her teas with a bit of echinacea to ward off winter sniffles, and the herb gave the drink a bitter bite that helped when Brielle needed something stiff. Like now.
“Did you bring anything back?” Charlotte returned to the fire and stirred the pot nestled in the coals.
“Just a hare I left outside. I’ll skin it in a minute; just let me get warm first.” Brielle took another sip of the drink, and this time the liquid eased its warmth through her without stinging so much. She was finally starting to feel her fingers, but the sting was so sharp, she almost wished they were still numb.
“I can do it.” Charlotte’s tone held no hint of eagerness.
Brielle shook her head. “I’m already bundled. And I haven’t cleaned my knife yet.” She’d wiped the tool in the snow but always took time to clean and sharpen the blade after a hunt.
Her sister gave her a sheepish smile. “Thanks.”
“Where are Papa and Andre? And Uncle Carter?” The room was empty, and the curtains dividing their sleeping sections were tied back to show no one still abed.
Charlotte rolled her eyes. “They’ve gone to the workshop. Papa was eager to get back to the new design he’s working on. He thought of another idea for it in the night. He’s making Andre keep up with his studies while the weather is bad and there’s not much else to do.”
Brielle would have smiled if her cheeks weren’t so frozen. Once the weather turned fair, keeping their brother focused on academic learning became five times harder. Thankfully, Papa had always taken charge of their studies.
“Are you spending the day with Mr. MacManus again?”
Brielle shot a glance at her sister, even as warmth crept up to her ears. Did Charlotte think she was spending too much time with their prisoner? Did she suspect what was growing between them? That kiss . . .
Brielle shifted her focus down to the liquid still steaming in her mug and worked for a nonchalant expression. “I’ll check on him as I always do, but Leonard’s standing guard today.”
“He seemed to like the music at the feast yesterday. I’m glad Papa let him come.” Charlotte’s voice seemed casual, without a weighty undertone, so Brielle chanced another look at her.
Charlotte stared into the pot she was stirring, but her distant gaze and the tender smile curving her lips must mean she was reliving scenes from the feast.
A memory sprang to Brielle’s own mind, a wide grin spreading Evan’s face as he clapped along to the music. Even the binding of his wrists hadn’t stopped his pleasure as fiddle and voices rang off the stone walls of the great hall. Their music had a way of stirring inside a person and bringing every sense to life. Evan had felt that, too, she was almost certain of it.
Brielle worked to pull herself from the memory and pull the grin off her face. Another glance at Charlotte showed her sister was watching her with a curious expression. Charlotte was old enough now to understand the deeper connection that could grow between a man and woman, but thankfully not quite savvy enough for full understanding.
This would be a good time to step outside. Brielle turned toward the door and set her cup on the small table by the exit. “I’ll be back in with the meat soon.”
“Brielle.”
Charlotte’s quiet tone made her pause in the midst of reaching for the handle. “Yes?”
“I like him. He seems like a good man.”
She forced herself to turn back to her sister. Though Charlotte’s eyes shone with her usual sweet temperament, there was a seriousness about her that didn’t line up with the naiveté Brielle had just been grateful for.
Brielle nodded, then forced words. “Good. I think so, too.” Then she turned and fled the apartment.
Crouching outside, she set to work. The air was cold enough a person could freeze within minutes if they didn’t keep moving, so she worked quickly to skin the rabbit and cut away the good meat. Although the job only took minutes, she almost wished she’d left the hare and come home empty-handed. At least then she wouldn’t be racing against frostbite.
A cry howled on the wind, and she jerked her head up. Maybe the sound came from air sliding between the rocks and crevices of the mountainside.
But a figure hurried across the courtyard toward her. The call sounded again.
Brielle squinted to decipher who it was through the swirling snow. Jeanette. Why was she out in this blizzard?
Brielle gathered her tools while she waited for the woman to reach her, then pushed the door open and hurried them both inside, pushing hard to close the partition against the wind.
“Marcellus.” Jeanette spoke before she could turn to her. “Have you seen him? Is he here?” Her voice rang with worry. “He hasn’t been home all morning.”
Brielle glanced at Charlotte. “I just came back from a hunt.” She dropped the soiled things in a pile against the wall, then set the meat on the work surface, where Charlotte could prepare it.
Charlotte stepped nearer Jeanette. “I haven’t seen him at all. Not anyone, actually, besides Papa and Andre, and now you both.”
Jeanette wrapped her arms around herself. “Marcellus was gone when I awoke this morning, and no one knows where he is. I’ve looked everywhere. Your father said he hasn’t been to the workshop.” She turned pleading eyes to Brielle. “I can’t think why he would have left the walls, especially with the storm. But maybe he went for a walk before the snowfall grew thick.”
Brielle reached for her knife from the soiled pile and grabbed a pair of clean gloves. “I’ll go look for him. He can’t be far. The snow came quickly; maybe it surprised him and he just hasn’t made it back yet.” But she’d gone much farther than he would have. He should have come back before her.
“Brielle, take food with you.” Charlotte’s voice stopped her before she could step outside.
Brielle turned back, and while Charlotte packed several food items into a bag, she used the time to reach for her bow and quiver. As she stood there with all her weapons strapped on, Charlotte was still rolling something in leather to pack in the satchel.
“I only need a bite. I won’t be gone long.” She marched toward Charlotte to get the bag before she could add in anything else.
“Marcellus will be hungry, too.” Charlotte grabbed dried fruit and stuffed it in the bag before handing it to Brielle with an impish smile.
Brielle took the strap and leaned close to slip an arm around her sister’s neck. She planted a kiss on Charlotte’s smooth hair. “Thank you, ma soeur. I’ll be back soon.”
Slipping the strap over her head, Brielle turned back to Jeanette. “Stay here and visit with Charlotte. I’ll bring him back to you here.”
But Jeanette shook her head. “Louis is worried, too. Bring him to our home when you return, will you please?”
Brielle placed a hand on her friend’s back. “I promise.”