Fearless Warrior: Isaacson Trilogy Book Two

7

"That would be because you no longer have eyebrows or a good majority of your hair, for that matter. You have Piper and her inability to conjure anything other than a fireball to thank for your misfortune." Elsie quipped as Piper lashed the petticoat strips around her head, anchoring one under and around each armpit.

"I would like to mention this last fireball was intentional."

"Well, that's an improvement," Elsie beamed. "You should be rather pleased with yourself, especially after all those times before when everything you tried produced the opposite effect of what you were going for."

"Will this suffice for now?" Piper asked, her voice sounding strained as she tied the last knot.

Elsie attempted a slight nod, but her neck gave way. "Oh dear," She reached up, braced her hands on either side of her head, and motioned to the fallen trees with her chin, "Perhaps if we use a stick as well? You've gone to all this trouble to supply us with several, which I'm sure will do nicely, and I'd hate to leave such a mess. Perhaps we could tie it to my chest for added support?"

"I'll try to find one that will suit," Piper said with a brittle smile.

Ulric felt his face and head, his eyes widening as he met Esmund's gaze. "Is it true? My hair's gone?"

Esmund bit back a grin. The fireball had obliterated Ulric's eyebrows, and the only hair remaining was at the middle back of his head. What hair had been on the front, top, and sides of his head and had reached his shoulders was shriveled strands, which disintegrated and stood out a mere quarter-inch after Ulric ran his hands over his head.

He gripped Ulric's shoulder and turned him to the side as he fought to hold back his laughter, "Yes, your gleaming tresses have been annihilated. Looks like you'll be shaving what little remains when we return home."

Ulric muttered a string of curses and heaved a drawn-out sigh. A moment later, he rubbed his head, "I don't suppose this makes us even?"

"For what?" Esmund said before both he and Ulric whistled for their horses.

Ulric lowered his voice, "You know - for spreading the rumor about you when we were younger."

"Would that be the rumor where you told Magda Gibbons I had lice? Or, maybe you're referring to when I was ten, and you somehow convinced the entire classroom I was a ghost—or better yet, how about when you told Mr. Mathews I was born without knees?"

"Those are all some of my best ones," Ulric murmured, looking contrite. "Any chance this makes us even for all of them and the ones you didn't mention?"

Esmund grunted a laugh, "Maybe." He glanced at the women in time to see Piper placing a thick twig against Elsie's back, which Elsie held in place while Piper tied the strips of cloth around her throat and chest.

"I feel like a walking scarecrow," Elsie laughed.

Ulric snorted and murmured, "I don't think I've ever met a more bizarre woman."

Esmund grinned, "Me, either." She was a strange creature, and Esmund was drawn to her. He tore his eyes away from watching her and focused on the sound of horse hoofs snapping twigs and rustling bracken as all three horses trotted into view before stopping at the outskirts of the crater.

Moonlight bathed the trees, men, and beasts in a wash of iridescent silver and gave them a bizarre supernatural quality not there before. Perhaps it was a lingering effect of Piper's magic and the events they had just been a part of, but there was a distinct awareness causing the hair on Esmund's arms to stand on end and excitement—about what he didn't know—to flutter in his gut.

"How long do you think it'll take?" Esmund murmured soft enough that the women wouldn't be able to hear as they picked their way over to the horses.

"You mean for Elsie's neck to heal?"

Esmund nodded.

"I don't know." Ulric shrugged and rested his hands on his hips. He stared at the women for a minute before he nudged Esmund, "I feel terrible I killed her." His brow creased in a deep frown, an expression lacking any severity with the absence of his eyebrows. "I also have a peculiar feeling in my stomach that I'm sure I've never had after berserkering."

There was a strange inflection in Ulric's voice Esmund hadn't heard before. "What does it feel like?"

Ulric paused for a second before quietly admitting, "Guilt...I think." His lips curled in distaste, "This doesn't mean I actually like her, does it?"

Esmund laughed and patted Ulric's shoulder, "Maybe it just means you're not as cold-hearted as you like to pretend you are."

"I ought to punch you in the face for speaking such blasphemy."

"Forgive me," Esmund said with feigned severity. "I forgot I was a humble mortal conversing with the almighty Ulric. It won't happen again, your imminence."

Ulric burst out laughing and wrapped his arm around Esmund's neck, bringing him close as they walked carefully over to the horses. "I should kill you for your impertinence, peasant, but I'm feeling merciful and so will allow you to live one more night."

Esmund couldn't stop a grin from splitting his face. "Do you think Father and Gunnar are having this much fun?"

"I don't know if I would call this fun," Ulric scoffed, "although it has been entertaining." He paused and smiled, "I will say, it's doubtful they've had as much excitement as we have."

Whatever had blackened Ulric's disposition all day seemed to have released him from its clutches. It was times like these when Ulric reverted to being the teasing, idolized older brother that allowed Esmund a fleeting taste of the coveted connection only Ulric and Gunnar shared. Suddenly, a troubling thought intruded on Esmund's happiness and caused him to frown.

Was this why he had secretly longed for the day he would feel free enough to find his true mate and why the second Gunnar had announced his plans to settle down, he'd wanted to shout for joy and echo the words which would grant him his freedom as well?

Esmund mulled the question over until they reached the horses. After spending more time than necessary on adjusting his gear, he vaulted up into his saddle, took the reins in hand, and knew with startling clarity that it was true.

With each mile crossed toward Buffalo Gulch, another hidden chain broke its hold on him, bringing the yearning to claim his true mate closer within reach.

At last, he would be allowed to admit that what he wanted, more than anything out of life, was to find a woman who loved him and would give him the connection he'd always longed for.

Now, all he had to do was figure out how to obtain it...and that was the problem. Because, unlike what he'd boasted to his brothers a few months ago when Gunnar had set out to find his true mate, Esmund was only a little better at romancing women than Ulric was—which meant for his dream to come true, there would have to be a great deal of luck and cosmic intervention involved. And he was short of both.