And what power would it take to raise it from the lakebed? Or to move the water away and hold it until they performed the ritual? Would they have enough power to do both? All while fending off both the other warriors and de Gifford’s men?
Soaring high again, he knew he would need to wait at least a day before seeking out de Gifford. His reason to go to him would be to confirm Ander’s imprisonment and to seek information about his friend’s condition. He had no doubt that de Gifford would try to lure him in. Soren knew he must not be too arrogant in his ability to fool this man. Pride must have no place in this or he would fail, as would they all.
Unable to seek out Ran, Soren returned to his own farm, changing where no one could see him and walking his lands. He spoke to those who worked the lands for him and his cousin who oversaw it now. For a few hours, it was like returning to the life he thought would be his.
He worked alongside them through the day and shared their meal. With nowhere to go, he slept in his own bed, for what he knew would be the last time and morning found him well rested. Soren wrote out a document turning all of his property over to his cousin and left it there. He took some time to write a letter to his aunt, hoping to explain more about what he’d learned since seeing her last. He prayed that she had traveled north.
Finally, the time came for him to seek out the one man who could be the death of everyone he knew . . . if de Gifford succeeded. When he arrived in Orphir, Soren was determined that he would stop the man and the evil he worshipped from ever entering his world.
Soren found nothing to be as he expected it.
After the scene on the ships at Westray, he expected chaos and disarray. He expected a desperate force of men enslaved against their will.
Instead he found a well-ordered encampment surrounding Svein’s house. The ships were farther out in the bay, but repairs were being made to them. Men training at arms. Men organizing supplies. Men preparing food.
He walked along the path from the road and was greeted by one of the guards. If the man thought that someone appearing out of the air was an oddity, he said nothing and did nothing other than point him in the direction where his lord could be found. The surroundings were clean and the atmosphere calm, though as he walked closer to the house, he felt some tension growing. The last time he’d visited this place was over two years ago. Svein summoned him and Aslaug as though he was king and they his subjects. Soren had mistakenly thought the subject to be discussed would be upcoming marriages. He expected Ran and her brother to arrive at any time. He expected his request to marry Svein’s daughter would be taken seriously.
He’d left, they’d left, bound in a terrible plot that, meant to save the ones they loved, cost too much. If Soren had only known the truth then. If he’d known about Einar’s faith. If he’d known what the results would be, he might have had the strength to stand against her father.
Soren took in and then let out a deep breath as he approached the doorway. This house was modest for a man of Svein’s tastes. Instead of a fortress to defend him and his family, he’d chosen a stone house near the water. Svein’s reputation for ruthlessness kept any petty thieves away. His connections to the bishop through generous contributions of prayer and gold and his connection by kin to the now-absent earl stood him in good stead.
But Lord Hugh de Gifford cared nothing for Svein’s position or connections, he simply wanted to use the man for whatever he could. And he had.
“You look like a man considering choices.”
Soren looked up into the very face of evil.
He’d seen and heard de Gifford only once before and the man from that encounter and this man were completely at odds. Instead of the person he’d seen before, he found a man he thought now too young to be Brienne’s father. Vitality shone from the man’s face and stature. He wore the costly garments and jewels of a wealthy nobleman. His name spoke of a French or Norman background though his accent gave neither away.
“I am,” Soren replied.
De Gifford motioned for him to follow and led him to the chamber Svein had used during their discussion. Had he chosen this room intentionally? When de Gifford smiled, Soren knew the answer.
“So the dealings with Svein you have had in the past—they happened here?”
He had already decided that the truth about this would be his best weapon, so he glanced around the room and nodded.
“He forced you to disavow your beloved, marry his son’s betrothed and live a lie or he would destroy your family.” He knew it all, probably from Svein’s own lips.
“Aye,” Soren said.
“And Aslaug’s family as well.” “And the bairn she carried.” De Gifford knew it all from the expression in his eyes. Soren nodded again, watching and waiting for de Gifford’s first move. Well, second, since bringing him to the place of his failure and humiliation was the first.
“And you want to save him?” de Gifford asked, sitting in the large chair used only by Svein.
“I do not wish to save him,” Soren admitted. “She wishes to save him.”
“Ahhh. The daughter who has let you back into her . . . well, certainly not bed for that is the one place where you haven’t fucked her yet.”
Soren struggled to keep an even temperament. Control was essential now.
“Women can be forgiving,” Soren said, smiling at the man. “Very, very forgiving.”
“So I can kill him now?” Hugh asked calmly.
Soren held back from the word he wanted to say. He could not appear too eager.
“I do not want to save him, but I do not want you to kill him. I want him to know his failure. I want him to confess his crimes against me to his daughter and then I will kill him. In front of her.” Soren turned away and stared out the window at the sea. “If you kill him, he becomes a martyr. Svein can be no martyr.”
