She sprang up in bed. “He knew him. Orvin knew his killer. Did the warrior know his killer? And what of my father?” A chill raced through her, shivering her. Who would the three know and trust without a doubt?
“The Abbott,” she whispered and shook her head. It couldn’t be him. He had been a warrior at one time, but what reason would he have for killing the three, and he had spoken to her about Raven. He was helping her and the three men who were killed posed no threat to Raven. Then what had happened to him?
She dropped back on the pillow again. What was she missing? It was there in front of her. Why couldn’t she see it?
“You’ve come to surrender?” Brynjar asked with a laugh when Arran and Royden entered his campsite and Wolf’s warriors circled the area.
“Where is he?” Arran demanded as soon as he dismounted.
Brynjar laughed again. “You’ve lost someone.”
“I warn you, Brynjar. Don’t play your senseless games with me. The Abbott. Where is he?” Arran demanded more strongly as he walked to stand close to the man.
Royden kept a distance behind his brother, holding the broken spear wrapped in the bloody robe in his hand.
Brynjar’s brow wrinkled. “What would I want with the Abbott?”
“To change his mind about when Purity and I first exchanged vows?” Arran accused.
Brynjar’s brow shot up. “That is a good idea. I wish I had thought of it, but I didn’t.”
“Then what is this?” Royden demanded, tossing the robe and spear to the ground beside Brynjar.
Brynjar appeared perplexed when his glance fell on the bloody robe, then on the spear.
“You know exactly who that spear belongs to since each of your men carve the symbols they want into their spear handles.”
“You learned too much about my warriors for the short time you were with me,” Brynjar said. “It could be Rouard’s.”
“He was left to keep watch and gather information,” Arran said, knowing far more about Brynjar and his tactics than he would want him to.
“How did you learn so much about my warriors when your time with me was mostly spent held captive in a cage?” Brynjar asked, annoyed.
“Held captive in a cage with other prisoners,” Arran corrected, “who gladly answered my questions for extra crumbs you fed us.”
“I’ll have to remember that and see that prisoners get no food,” Brynjar said far too seriously. “Rouard wouldn’t kill the Abbott. He was left to watch and bring me news, nothing more and if anything, Rouard always obeys my orders.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you?” Arran asked.
Brynjar stepped closer to Arran, an angry sneer on his face. “I see it in your eyes. You can’t hide it. You want to kill me. It’s in you like it’s in me. I can see it, smell it—you want blood. And that need, that hunger blinds you if you let it—like now. You want so badly for it to be me who killed those men that you ignore all other possibilities.” Laughter replaced his sneer as he stepped away from Arran. “What reason would I have to order those men’s deaths? It would serve no purpose, especially Galvin. He owed me and dead he couldn’t give me what he owed me. Besides,” —he raised his hand with a sharp snap and a bulky warrior stepped forward— “this is Rouard. He arrived here not long before you to alert me to your imminent arrival.”
Arran glared at the man. “I suppose you’re going to tell me your spear went missing.”
“It did, and I wouldn’t kill a man of God,” the bulky warrior said.
Arran was surprised by his serious and sincere tone.
“Rouard’s right,” Brynjar said, his frustration showing. “Rouard suffered a serious wound in a battle. No one expected him to live. A priest we had captured, who had some healing training, tended him and prayed by his side day and night. Rouard believes his God saved his life and in turn he requested the priest’s life to be spared and he be set free. I obliged him, mostly because I couldn’t have any of my other warriors believing it as well.”
Arran actually believed both men.
“You’re looking at the wrong person, Arran,” Brynjar said.
Arran asked what he should have when Brynjar first arrived. “What are you really doing here, Brynjar?”
“Finally, you realize there is more to my presence here.” He laughed. “You don’t know me as well as you think you do after all.”
“I know there is always reason behind what you do. So what reason brought you here to this land?” Arran asked, angry with himself for having missed the obvious.
“Revenge. A deep-rooted revenge,” Brynjar all but snarled.
It dawned on Arran then. “Wolf! Your seeking revenge against Wolf.”
Purity struggled with the endless questions in her head. Why the three men? How would each of them stand in someone’s way? What purpose did their deaths actually serve?