A Warrior’s Heart by Misty M. Beller
4
Brielle strode through the dim hallway, turning toward the outer exit more by memory than sight. She pushed through the heavy wooden door into the bright glare of the sun. Without a moment’s slowing of her stride, she inhaled the nip in the air, soaking in the remnants of smoke from the cook fires. If only she could remain out here.
Maybe she should sprint through the hidden rock gateway and out into the forest—leave the English stranger and her jumble of emotions far behind.
But that escape couldn’t happen. Not yet. Give me strength, Lord.
Locking her jaw in place, she kept her march pointed toward the rock wall opposite her. More specifically, toward the cluster of at least a dozen men gathered at its base.
The council. A man from every single family in the village would be represented there, and none would miss this urgent meeting. The Englishman in their midst would cause quite a stir.
“Brielle.” A high-pitched male voice broke her focus, slowing her stride.
She forced herself to pause and turn to the kind face approaching. “Marcellus. I can’t speak now.” She allowed him to clasp her elbow in greeting. “The leaders are meeting. The chief has asked me to come.”
“Then I can meet him?” Marcellus’s boyish face looked so hopeful.
“The chief? My father?” Why would Marcellus think he needed to reserve time to see her father when he would sit beside the stewpot with them that very night? It was a wonder Marcellus hadn’t charged into the middle of the council meeting already. But maybe he had, and one of the elders sent him away.
The overgrown lad shook his head. “The visitor. Audrey said you might let me meet him.”
The visitor. She bit back a grimace, as the expression would hurt Marcellus’s tender feelings. But she did look him square in the eyes as she gripped his arms. “Marcellus. Stay far away from the storage chamber. He might hurt you, so do not approach him unless I give you leave. Do you understand?”
His eager face crumpled, and his chin dipped. “Oui.”
The look pierced her chest with a stab of guilt, but she didn’t have time to smooth things over just now. The council waited for her, and Marcellus had to steer clear of the stranger for his own safety. And maybe that of the entire village. She wouldn’t let another poor child grow up motherless.
“Good man.” She patted his shoulder and turned away.
When she reached the gathering of men, they parted to allow her into their midst. She aimed her focus at the two figures in the center. The pair stopped speaking as she halted before them, and she met the weary gaze of her father.
She dipped her chin to them both. “Papa. Erik.”
Her father acknowledged her with an answering nod, then motioned toward the crowd around them. “What can you tell us of the stranger?”
She had her answer ready. The long walk through the tunnel passages had allowed plenty of time to prepare. She detailed her actions with the man in succinct order. How she’d given him time to turn aside from the gateway before resorting to violence. The manner in which she’d apprehended him. The few words he’d spoken when he awoke in the chamber.
“Did he give any sign of his business here?” Despite the concern in his eyes, her father’s patient tone was the one he used when considering all sides of a matter.
“Only that he was not from this area.”
“You think he knew of our village?” This from a voice in the crowd. Bisset, if she wasn’t mistaken.
She turned to find the man. “I can’t be sure. He never spoke clearly on the matter.” In fact, his words had been more like riddles, bending each question she asked in a way she’d not meant it to go.
He’d been intriguing at the time, but now her neck heated at the lack of detail she’d been able to ascertain from him. She straightened her shoulders. “I will use stronger means to learn his purpose here.”
Her father motioned for her to pause, then looked to the other man in the circle’s middle. “What say you, Erik? What states the law on the subject?”
The tall man’s brow puckered, no doubt because his mind sifted through all the laws he’d memorized throughout the years. “He has not violated any laws, save that of secrecy. We are to keep the presence of Laurent secret from all except the Dinee people, who have proven to be friends and welcome partners in trade.”
Her father turned back to her. “Do you believe he will keep silent about what he has seen if we send him away?”
She struggled to keep her expression poised. “I do not.” Had Papa taken leave of his senses? Had he not also endured the awful repercussions from the last visit of Englishmen to their village? He of all people . . .
She’d sooner spend a winter with no furs than turn the man loose with only a simple warning. “Unless one of our healers can create a potion to make him lose his memories, I strongly advise against freeing him until we are certain of his purpose here. Even then, I’m not sure we can trust him.”
Papa gave her one of his looks that contained so many layers that she would need a lifetime to wade through them. The sadness she recognized. And perhaps a wistfulness? And resignation.
He’d endured too much through the years, raising not only his three motherless children but an entire village. He shouldn’t have to face this stranger who resurrected so many painful memories.
“We should kill him. The risk he brings is too great.” Audrey’s father spoke with a bitterness that tightened Brielle’s middle. Surely he hadn’t imbibed so early in the day.
She didn’t turn to look at the man, but Papa’s gaze honed that direction. “Death is not something to be taken lightly. Especially when he hasn’t broken any of our laws.”
Silence settled in the wake of his words. Papa’s voice usually had that effect, especially when he used his wise chieftain tone. Usually Brielle agreed with him. But in this case, her thoughts churned in such chaos and his statement struck a sour note in her belly.
Papa straightened and turned his focus to the circle of men. “I propose that we keep this stranger—Evan—under guard. We need time to pray for God’s guidance to help us discover his purpose and whether he’s trustworthy. In a few weeks, we’ll meet again to vote on what to do with him. Speak with your families and make sure you represent all those in your clans for the final vote, not only your own opinion. Do any oppose this plan?”
Murmurs of assent rumbled all around her. Not even Martin, Audrey’s father, raised an objection. These council members would have their work cut out for them, finding a decision everyone approved. Especially those from families who didn’t always agree amongst themselves.
Papa turned to meet her gaze again. “Brielle, I am trusting you to oversee his guard and find out his purpose here. The people depend on you to oversee the protection of Laurent. I leave you to discover everything you can about him and report back to us.”
Brielle inhaled a steadying breath, released it, and then nodded. This meant they’d have to assign guards for night and day. One less warrior would be available to protect the village or hunt food. But she’d rather have control over the stranger’s whereabouts than allow someone else the responsibility of keeping the people safe.
With that, Papa nodded, effectively ending the meeting. As voices resumed their normal volume around them, he started toward her. Except someone else called out to him, pulling away Papa’s attention.
Good. She wasn’t quite ready to face the voice of reason her father always tried to be. Peace and forgiveness had been so ingrained in him, maybe by his own father, or maybe when he became the village leader, replacing the previous chieftain.
Peace was an excellent notion, but the concept didn’t unite well with safety. Keeping the village from danger required wariness and keen senses. Not to mention the ability to make quick decisions and strike hard before the prey attacked first. She’d learned that lesson well at the hands of a bear on her fourteenth birthday. And lest she forget, the scar on her cheek served as a daily reminder.
Evan struggled to sit up as his guard stood. The man grunted with the action, as though his joints ached with rheumatism.
Evan’s body hummed with impatience, but he forced himself not to show eagerness. He couldn’t let this man think he had anything planned but a simple trip to the privy.
But instead of coming nearer to loose the binds around Evan’s ankles, the guard motioned toward the dark corner. “There’s dirt in the corner. Just hobble over.”
Disappointment sank through him as he peered toward the spot. Did they truly plan to never let him out of this tiny closet? He would go mad trapped within these rock walls. Even now they closed in around him. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sensation, drawing in labored breaths.
“Go, if you plan to.” The guard motioned toward the corner again, impatience thickening his accent.
Evan opened his eyes and steadied his breathing, forcing his mind to think rationally. He should use this opportunity to relieve himself, for he certainly wouldn’t be doing so if either of the women came back. And maybe he should start showing these people he meant them no harm. A friendly conversation would be a good start.
Rolling to his hands and knees proved no easy feat with pain twisting its blade in his stomach. By the time he worked his way up to standing, he could only take in tiny gasps of air. He stood motionless to let his body adjust and focused on thin inhales to keep away the darkness threatening the edges of his vision.
When his body finally settled, he sent a glance at the guard.
The man watched him with the corners of his mouth tipped, even as his nose squinted in a knowing look. “Brielle’s arrow leaves a lasting mark, eh? I always wondered what that potion would do to a man. The concoction knocks caribou into sound sleep.”
Evan had too little control of himself to stop his glare. Did the man mean to say they never tested the poison on a human? The she-warrior really hadn’t cared if he lived or died. He’d better not depend on her female sensibilities. Mayhap she wasn’t really a female at all. What woman had the nerve to shoot a deer, much less a fellow human being? Certainly none he’d ever met.
“Will you cut my legs free so I can walk?”
The man shook his head. “You can shuffle to the corner.”
Evan bit back a retort and started across the span. It shouldn’t bother him so much to be degraded in front of this man. Something about him seemed like he could be friendly if he wanted to. Maybe Evan’s goal for now should be to make the man amiable toward him.
When he reached the dark corner, he searched for a topic that wouldn’t arouse suspicion. “I hear a bit of French in your accent, but I’m amazed at how well all of you speak the American tongue.” Maybe he should have said British tongue so they wouldn’t know where his allegiance lay, but the word slipped out before he thought about it. Did this village know of the war in the east? If so, did they side with Britain? This place was secluded, though, far west of the Canadas.
He slid a glance toward the man to see his reaction.
The guard’s brow furrowed. “You are from the American colonies then?”
Evan barely caught his confusion before it showed on his face. The only colonies in the New World were the British colonies of Canada. Except for the French ones far to the south. But American colonies . . . ?
Had these people really been so isolated that they didn’t know America had fought fiercely to gain their independence nearly forty years before? And the United States had been fighting again to keep that independence these last three years. What question could he ask to test the man’s knowledge without raising suspicion?
He replayed the guard’s last statement in his mind. He’d have to betray his allegiances. But then, maybe he’d already done so. Better to be clear than make the man think he was hedging or had something to hide. “I’m from the American states.”
The man’s brows lifted. “States? Britain allowed the colonies to become states?” His surprise couldn’t be feigned. And he must assume they were still under Britain’s rule, as if the great people of America wouldn’t have the ability to break free of Britain’s domineering thumb. He’d often heard of that attitude prevalent amongst Tories during the days of the revolution.
How much should Evan tell? Would these people even believe him? The war had been fought. America firmly secured its independence. All they need do to confirm his news would be to send a scout down east to learn the truth. This part was no secret. Nor should it endanger his life. Hopefully.
Readjusting his tunic, he turned to face the man, propping his hand against the stone wall to keep from swaying each time a wave of vertigo passed through him. “The American colonies fought and won their independence from Britain back in 1776. We’re a free country, made up of thirteen states.” Better to stop there.
The man’s dropped jaw seemed to indicate that what little Evan had shared was plenty enough for him to take in.
“You can’t mean it.” The guard snapped his mouth shut, apparently realizing he shouldn’t reveal his shock so plainly.
Evan nodded, but the blackness flooding his vision made him regret the movement. “It’s true.”
The man’s tone turned almost wistful. “I’ll bet there have been lots of changes we don’t know about.”
Evan worked to form a question that might help him understand more about these people. But a new bout of spinning forced him to squeeze his eyes shut.
When he opened them, the man was studying him. He motioned to the fur Evan had been laying on. “You better lay back down before you fall.”
Evan shuffled forward. The man was more right than he wanted to admit.
When he reached the fur, he dropped his hands down first, then lowered himself to his knees. He’d just started to ease down onto his side when a single tap on the door sounded. The wood panel opened, and Brielle stepped in.
He paused in his motion, then shifted to a sitting position so he could see her better.
Her expression gave no sign of the tidings she brought. She could rival any Indian brave with her expressionless mask.
But what news did she carry underneath that stoic look? She must have brought the council’s decision, and their verdict had the power to set him free . . . or take his life.