"The McKane killed my mother?" Grimm whispered. "Why would they care if she was pregnant?"
Ronin shook his head and looked at Balder. "How did I raise a son who was so thickheaded?"
Balder shrugged and rolled his eyes.
"You still doona get it, do you, Gavrael? What I was tryin' to tell you all those years ago: We—the McIllioch men—we're born Berserk. Any son born of the Laird's direct line is a Berserker. The McKane have hunted us for a thousand years. They know our legends nearly as well as we do. The prophecy was that we would be virtually destroyed, whittled down to three." He waved his arms in a gesture that encompassed the three of them. "But one lad would return home, brought by his true mate, and destroy the McKane. The McIllioch would become mightier than ever before. You are that lad."
"B-b-born Berserk?" Grimm stuttered.
"Yes," both men responded in a single breath.
"But I turned into one," Grimm floundered. "Up on Wotan's Cleft. I called on Odin."
Ronin shook his head. "It just seemed that way. It was first blood in battle that brought the Berserker out. Normally our sons doona turn until sixteen. First battle accelerated your change."
Grimm sank to a seat on the wall and buried his face in his hands. "Why did you never tell me what I was before I changed?"
"Son, it's not like we hid it from you. We started tellin' you the legends at a young age. You were entranced, remember?" Ronin broke off and laughed. "I recall you runnin' around, tryin' to 'become a Berserker' for years. We were pleased you welcomed your heritage with such open arms. Go, go look in the blasted Hall of Lords, Gavrael—"
"Grimm," Grimm corrected stubbornly, holding on to some part of his identity—any part.
Ronin continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "There are ceremonies we hold, when we pass on the secrets and teach our sons to deal with the Berserker rage. Your time was approachin', but suddenly the McKane attacked. I lost Jolyn and you left, never once lookin' west to Maldebann, to me. And now I know you were hatin' me, accusin' me of the most vile thing a man could do."
"We train our sons, Gavrael," Balder said. "Intense discipline: mental, emotional, and physical trainin'. We instruct them to command the Berserker, not be commanded by it. You missed that trainin', yet I must say that even on your own you did well. Without any training, without any understandin' of your nature, you remained honorable and have grown into a fine Berserker. Donna be thrashin' yourself for seein' things at fourteen with the half-opened eyes of a fourteen-year-old."
"So I'm supposed to repopulate Maldebann with Berserkers?" Grimm suddenly fixated on Ronin's words about the prophecy.
"It's been foretold in the Hall of Lords."
"But Jillian doesn't know what I am," Grimm said despairingly. "And any son she has will be just like me. We can never—" He was unable to finish the thought aloud.
"She's stronger than you think she is, lad," Ronin replied. "Trust in her. Together you can learn about our heritage. It is an honor to be a Berserker, not a curse. Most of Alba's greatest heroes have been our kind."
Grimm was silent a long time, trying to recolor fifteen years of thinking. "The McKane are coming," he said finally, latching on to one solid fact in an internal landscape deluged by intangibles.
Both men's eyes flew to the surrounding mountains. "Did you see something move on the mountains?"
"No. They've been following me. They've tried three times now to take me. They've been on our heels since we left Caithness."
"Wonderful!" Balder rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation.
Ronin looked delighted. "How far behind you were they?"
"I suspect scarcely a day."
"So they'll be here anytime. Lad, you must go find Jillian. Take her to the heart of the castle and explain. Trust her. Give her the chance to work through things. If you had known the truth years ago, would fifteen years have been wasted?"
"She'll hate me when she discovers what I am," Grimm said bitterly.
"Are you as certain of that as you were that I killed Jolyn?" Ronin asked pointedly.
Grimm's eyes flew to his. "I'm no longer certain of anything," he said bleakly.
"You're certain you love her, lad," Ronin said. "And I'm certain she's your mate. Never has one of our true mates rejected our heritage. Never."
Grimm nodded and turned for the castle.
"Be certain she stays in the castle, Gavrael," Ronin called to his back. "We canna risk her in battle."
After Grimm had disappeared into Maldebann, Balder smiled. "He dinna try to correct you when you called him Gavrael."