His task of meeting with his men forgotten in the face of danger to Brienne, William needed to get back inside before Hugh suspected he knew. He mounted and turned his horse toward Yester. Gavin grabbed his leg.
“Ye must protect her,” he said. “I think ye are the only one who can. In spite of . . . ”
“In spite of what?” he asked, watching the man struggle to choose his words.
“She is Lord Hugh’s blood, ye know?”
“He told me so.” Gavin still did not release him. “She does not understand the power she holds, Sir William. She did not learn to control it.”
“What power, Gavin?”
“She commands the fire, just like her father does.” When William did not say anything, the blacksmith’s astute gaze studied him. He could tell the moment Gavin knew. “Ye have seen it, then?” The man let out a breath. “I pray ye can help her.”
“Why do you think I can? I am but one knight against your lord, these weapons, and his men. And against the power that he and they have.”
“I think ye give yerself too little credit, sir,” Gavin said. “There is something in ye that is like them. But ye are honorable. I will hold on to my hope that ye care for her and that ye will be her savior.”
Stunned at this man’s confidence, especially since he, more than most, knew the true resources his lord held, William could only nod. That the man who stood as father to her requested his help, knowing of his attraction to her, meant a great deal. He nodded then, accepting the task that his blood already had.
He could not do this alone, so he saw to his men, but all the while could not get the blacksmith’s words out of his thoughts. Though he had little experience or knowledge in a world where unearthly powers battled with humans, he would never go into any battle unprepared. Knowing what he must do before returning to the castle, William made his way across the valley to the camp where the other watchers were. The man called Marcus walked out to meet him.
“Sir William, welcome,” he said. “You look troubled. How can I serve you?” Marcus motioned to a log where he could sit. With a nod of his head, the man warned off several others standing close by, giving them privacy for this.
“What you said before,” he began. “What happened . . . ? I need to know what happened.”
“We are descended from an ancient people who were faithful to the old gods. Seven bloodlines from the seven gods, and priests to serve and guide them, William.”
“What bloodlines?” William asked.
“You are of the warbloods; Brienne is of the firebloods,” Marcus explained. “There will be five others— waterblood, stormblood, earthblood, sunblood, and beastblood. We know not who they are.”
“You said you knew.”
“We know the legends and the prayers, William. The gods will guide us to those who carry the blood as they brought us here to you and Brienne.”
“And Lord Hugh,” William finished. “Is he a traitor, as the king suspects?” Marcus shuddered at his question.
“Lord Hugh is the truest believer of the goddess who was conquered and exiled. His family has worked and prepared for this moment for more generations than you could count. He knows more than any of us, and he has terrible gifts from the goddess.”
“Tell me of this goddess.” Marcus glanced around at the request, clearly nervous about speaking of this goddess.
“There were seven ancients worshipped as gods and goddesses. Six of them—Belenus, Cernunnos, Taranis, Sucellus, Nantosuelta, and Epona—banded together against the seventh when she decided she would rule over all,” Marcus explained.
“And her name?” William asked.
“Chaela.” Marcus grew more nervous as he spoke the name. “The goddess of fire and destruction and chaos.”
Things were becoming clearer, but William needed more than a lesson in history. He needed to know about what had happened to him.
“What are the powers of a warblood, Marcus? How do I use them, if this is all true?”
“Your success at war is no accident, Sir William,” Marcus said.
“Certainly, it is not. It is through training and experience that I have been successful on the battlefield. Years of training and years more fighting in elite battle groups across Brittany and here in Scotland.”
“I meant no insult, sir,” Marcus said, holding up his hands. “I meant that your blood runs strong and heavy with the skills you need on the battlefield. And more recently, your body changes when you face danger. When she faces danger.”
William stood and walked away, considering this. He’d noticed it from the first sign of the changes. When he’d thought her threatened, his vision and sense of smell had sharpened, his blood had raced, and his body had grown in size and strength. Each time, the reaction was more pronounced.
