I dedicate this chapter, and this book in its entirety, in the loving memory of my nephew, Kaleb Alan. I'm sure you stealing god's iPhone and deleting all his important apps. Yo-Ho, lets go dubbers!
From the corner of Brenhin's eye, he caught the slightest hint of movement as the flap to the hut parted open. His sharp eyes caught creamy skin, the slightest peak of shapely legs, and dark eyes watching-watching him. It sent an unnerving wave of sheer male pride through him. That she was watching him, and admired what she saw.
Pain shot up through his shoulder as Tarrek nicked him smartly with his blunted blade. He glared at his friend, who unabashedly glared right back at him. A silent reprimand was exchanged, the shorter, dark haired warrior clearly miffed that his opponent was so easily distracted. Brenhin set his feet apart, his shoulders set to match, set his jaw and attacked. Brenhin moved with a with efficiency, every sweep and strike of his blade with a purpose.
Tarrek, even on his best day, could not manage to wind Brenhin when the chieftain set his mind solely on the battle at hand. Tarrek struggled to block blow after blow, his movements not a quarter fast enough to stop Brenhin from disarming him with a quick swipe of his leg around Tarreks', sending him flat on his back. Brenhin seized the man's fallen blade and held both swords to his opponents' throat.
"Do you yield?" Brenhin asked, his chest rising and falling in a manner that suggested he was no where near being tired.
Tarrek gazed up at his comrade with a mixture of displeasure at having been beaten and respect.
"Aye."
Brenhin climbed to his feet offering the fallen warrior his hand. Tarrek clasped it, tightening his grip around Brenhin's hand as he pulled himself to a standing position. Brenhin passed the man his blade as he turned to face his other clansmen. He peaked slyly at the hut across the way, but was irked to see that the girl was gone. He pushed all thoughts of her from her mind.
For now.
"War is upon us. We lose our brothers, our sisters, our mothers and fathers and wives every day due to the Roman's relentless bloodlust. They wish to dominate us, they want to seize our lands and claim them as their own. They may have many men, and glamorous armor.
"But we have more-we have our ancestors. Our blood forged these hills, created our homes and created the twelve clans. We have honor and so much more on our side." Brenhin declared, eliciting a victorious whoop! from his me. "Just yesterday we defeated them-sent the cowards running for the hills. My brothers, we will have justice! We will protect these lands, and our people!"
A cheer went out the group of men, lifting their heavy blades and spears. Brenhin dismissed them with a blessing before turning towards his hut. His stomach tightened at the thought of seeing her again. While she bared a striking likeness to Coira, the two were vastly different. Coira had been kind and gentle. She had never spoken to him in anger. In truth they had never argued at all.
But this girl . . . she was like a summer storm, with her crackling temper, and wayward manner. She yelled, she argued, she hit him! Him! The leader of the isle's most fearsome tribe! This sprite of a girl talked down to him as though she were his superior.
Brenhin chuckled as he recalled her surprise when he had entered the hut. Her pale skin had flushed like the sky at sunset, her dark eyes dancing with a thousand thoughts. The way she had thrown that bowl at his head had taken him aback but that hadn't stopped him from goading her. Brenhin's smile slipped. Why did he enjoy teasing her? He'd teased Coira, but his wife had blushed and laughed at his attentions. Never once did she attempt to maim him for his teasing.
She isn't Coira.
No. She was not Coira. Ciarada put much stalk in her prophecies and the sacred word of their goddess. When just a babe, the former priestess had been delivered a vision of Ciarada's future, how as a young woman, it would be she who would see truth from lie during their darkest time. It was by her goddess given talents that Brenhin became chieftain, their leader.
Perhaps this girl, this Tory, was a gift from her.
Brenhin snorted as he neared the hut. If so, the goddess had a strange sense of humor.
As he drew back the heavy pelt, he stopped mid step, staring inside the sunlit abode.
She stood with her back to him, completely unaware of his presence. She was in the midst of dressing in a man's tunic that was too big for her tiny frame, the hem of the shirt ending just above her knees. In her hand was a length of cloth, the girl was engrossed in wrapping the cloth about her waist as a make-shift belt. Brenhin seized the moment, allowing his gaze to wander over her.
She was different from Coira. Her hair was short of a woman, short for a man of his tribe even. In the too big tunic she wore she looked similar to a boy attempting to be a man. His gaze slid down her body down to her feet where a multicolored dress lay discarded.
Frowning, Brenhin knelt down, holding it out to her.
"Why don't you wear the dress Ciaranda brought you?"
The girl let out a loud gasp of surprise, spinning around to stare at him with wide dark eyes, a rose color touching her cheeks.
"You!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms out in front of her, as though to ward him off. "Get out now!"
Brenhin's mouth cracked in a smile, a chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Need I remind you that this is my home?"
Tory unleashed a poisonous glare on him, Brenhin could all but see the steam rolling from her ears.
"Fine! I'd rather stay outside anyway!" she threw him a scowl as she started to stomp past him.
Brenhin caught her about her waist, lifting her off her feet and into his arms. She was all but weightless in his arms, Brenhin felt a strange thrill of satisfaction at having her there. Tory, on the other hand, was far less enthused.
She wriggled, kicked and batted at him, fighting in every way he could to break free of his hold. Brenhin couldn't help but let out a rumbling laugh as he made his way towards the bed of pelts, and without ceremony dropped her there.
"Uff!" she cried as she hit the ground. "Why you-!"
"Ah! Enough of your poison tongue, goddess," he said as he took a seat on the bed of pelts. "Now. You and I are going to cease this childlike hostility, understood?"
Tory glared at him. "Bite me, Tarzan."
Faster than Tory could react, Brenhin had seized ahold of her hand brought it to his mouth and nipped at her fingers. Tory gave a squeak of surprise, ripping her hand from his hold.
"You-you bit me!" she yelled, her face heating. "You really bit me!"
Brenhin gave her a crooked smile. "You told me to."
Tory's mouth worked up and down but no sound escaped it. Brenhin smirked as he reclined back on the pelts regarding her closely.
"Now. I would like to speak with you-without your goading, nasty barbs and name calling. Can we both agree to behave?"
Tory said nothing, only gave him one of her petulant looks and remained silent. Brenhin took her lack of protest as a sign of agreement and continued on.
"Now, why are you not wearing the dress Ciaranda brought you?"
"I don't like it," she murmured, avoiding his gaze.
"I assure you, goddess, this is the finest fabric of all the northern tribes-"
"No! It's not the quality of the dress that I don't like. It's very . . . pretty, I guess. It's just . . . well, I'm not a dress type girl. I'm more of a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl."
Brenhin stared at her dubiously. His expression must have amused her, because for the first time he saw her smile. Brenhin was struck by the radiance of her expression. Her eyes seemed to brighten, taking on a glow as her laughter rang out around him. It was an infectious kind of joy that caused his own lips to form a smile.
Tory's soon died, her dark eyes becoming serious, her expression worried.
"Things are really bad here . . . aren't they?" She asked, her eyes steadily meeting his.
"Aye, they are. But you will change all that."
"How can you believe that? Look at me, dude, I'm built like a twelve year old boy, I am nothing special."
"None of that," he admonished, as he seized ahold of her hand, lifting it up to her gaze. "This was no accident. You were chosen by a force greater than you."
Victoria stared at him, her heart racing, the color in her cheeks rising.
"How do you do that? How can you say that so easily? You actually sound like you believe all this nonsense."
Brenhin's mirth dwindled at once. "The goddess is very real-and my belief in her plan is not foolish. Do you not have a deity, a force of which you place your faith in to guide you, to protect those you love when you cannot?"
Victoria stared at him, taking in the ferocity of his words.
"Yeah. We do. But right now . . . but sometimes I have trouble believing He's real, too."
"Then I am sorry for you," Brenhin murmured.
Tory's good humor and thoughtfulness melted away as she glared at him. "Don't be. Look, you don't know a thing about me, where or when I come from. Yeah, you all have a pretty shitty situation here-but I've taken European history. It does not end well."
Brenhin gave her a pensive look, his eyes tinged in some emotion that Tory could scarcely identify.
"The future is not set in stone, little one," he replied. "Tis why you are here-be you from another land, time it world, the goddess chose you for a reason."
"Well, your goddess made a big fat mistake." Tory threw back at him. "Next time she should try Katniss, or Buffy; someone who can actually take on a damn army!"
Tory attempted to stand, and stomp away from the infuriating man, but Brenhin was not done with her just yet.
His left hand came up, latching into her right arm and pulling her back towards him.
"She made no mistake I assure-just an interesting one," he admitted, as he reached up to stroke back a lock of Tory's ink black hair.
His finger brushed her cheek, sending a strange, startling sensation through her. The sensation sent her back to the beach and his demanding kisses. Fire coursed through her veins, sending Tory leaping to her feet. She lowered her head, allowing her hit to curtain her face, shielding her damning blush from his surprised hazel gaze.
"Say whatever you want, but I'm going home," and with that, Tory fled the hut, leaving a bemused Brenhin on the bed of pelts.
He watched her flee from him, a meddlesome feeling gnawing away at his chest. As his eyes followed her out of the hut, Brenhin allowed his eyes to fall closed as he bowed his head in a silent prayer.
Goddess, please stay with her. Guide her towards the truth. Show her Your way.
A gentle breeze swept through the hut. It was filled with warmth and an earthy aroma of grass and the sea.
Of course, my child, a voice answered him on the wind.
Brenhin smiled slightly as Her words filled him with courage.
_________Author's Note__________
Hello, here it is, at long last. I know it took far too long for this chapter to come. But I now have Internet at my house. So there is that.
I do love how many people are warming up to this book. Because in my mind set, it is so very different than Hannah. I've grown a lot since I finished that book and started this one. Hannah was written by a twilight enthusiast 16 year old who was just beginning to read adult novels. Tory is written by a high school graduate who is now obsessed with tumblr and all its wry humor. Who has learned so much from the writing style of other authors and that has really helped this book. That and the fact I discovered how to use a thesaurus.
As you may have gathered, I lost my nephew last week. It was unexpected and very hard on everyone in my family. My writing may get a little dark, and for that I'm sorry. But it's the place I am at right now. And I am not comfortable disclosing any details about his death. Just know it was an accident that should have never happened.
As always I am going to struggle to give you more frequent updates but that's very hard to do these days. I'm 20, I need to think about college, getting a job and moving out. I have a lot to organize and figure out.
Please Vote, Comment and Follow. I so look forward to hearing everyone's thoughts on this new chapter.
See you all again soon, Amber