When she finished, her body and determination spent, he cradled her against him but spoke not a word. She felt confused. Why was the Wolf being so considerate?
They were soon at the ship, and she was tossed over his shoulder, carried up a rope ladder, and deposited on the top of a barrel. He walked off, stopped, grabbed a fur cloak from a chest and tossed it to her. She caught it, gratefully wrapping herself in its warmth. Whether she shivered because of concern for her plight or the morning chill she was not certain; she only knew that the cold had seeped into her bones and she could not stop trembling.
The Wolf took quick charge of his men and soon the numerous oars cut the water like sharp knives and the striped sail caught a good wind. Before long, the shore became a small dot in the distance until with a blink of an eye it vanished.
“We will be home by nightfall, Rogan,” the man who led the oarsmen called out, and the Wolf leader nodded.
Rogan.
Aliss now knew his given name and that they were returning to their home. If she remembered correctly, the Wolf clan inhabited an isolated island off the north coast of Scotland. A place that neither the Scotsmen nor the Norsemen claimed as home. As far as she knew, the Wolf clan was made up of nomads with allegiance to no one but themselves. They were in fact barbarians and the thought made her tremble. She burrowed deeper into the fur cloak, hoping to ease her worrisome chills.
“With their pitiful boats the Hellewyk clan will not be following us any time soon,” laughed one of the men.
“You call those splints of wood boats?” chided another.
The men continued to poke fun at her clan as they sped through the water at an astonishing speed. Sadly, they were right about the boats. They were much too small to brave the ocean waters, or to carry a sufficient fighting force.
“Winter freeze will be the first we hear of them,” joked another.
Aliss listened and digested the news like a bad piece of meat. It would be winter before Fiona and Tarr could reach her. She was on her own.
She needed a plan but her thoughts were scattered, her fear so great that her mind was too jumbled to think cohesively. Fiona would know what to do but she was not Fiona. Aliss was a learned healer; she defended lives against illnesses. She abhorred the fighting that senselessly took lives and left endless suffering in its wake.
She glanced at the leader of the Wolf clan talking with one of the men at the bow of the ship. He stood with confidence, his sturdy legs holding firm as the ship fought the choppy waters. His arms lay crossed over his wide chest and his head was held high, demanding respect. He would surely frighten his enemy to death before they could draw a sword, but perhaps she gave too much credence to his arresting appearance.
No matter how strong a man, he could be struck down with a single blow or by a sickness. No man was impervious, though Rogan certainly gave the appearance of infallibility. He stood at the ship’s bow with a confident arrogance. He was the master, the ship his mistress who obeyed his every command.
How did she deal with such a man?
He turned his head and his glance caught her stare. She quickly turned away and chided herself for letting him intimidate her. She would need to deal with this man sooner or later, but how?
How did she not let him frighten her?
Her adversaries were usually illnesses. After determining the cause, she could then supply the means with which to conquer it. If she knew why he had abducted her, perhaps then she could conquer her fright and he would appear less intimidating.
She jumped when another fur was dropped across her lap and Rogan squatted down on his haunches beside her.
She was caught by the dark green of his eyes. A faint scar fanned the corner of his right eye and she thought he must have been very young when he had received it. Faint lines around his mouth and weathered bronze skin had her wondering about his age.
“Many questions must run through your mind.”
“As you would expect of someone who has just been abducted,” she said, “and does not know why.”
“I have need of you.”
“Define this need,” she said sharply, before losing confidence.
“Your skills. They are necessary to my clan.”
“Tell me more,” she said hesitantly, daring to hope that was all he wanted of her.
“Illness has ravaged my clan. Old and young alike are dying and some are not affected at all. It is as if the heavens pick and choose who will be spared. Your skill as a healer is known and I need it to help save my people.”
“Then I wish to make a trade,” Aliss said, knowing full well she would never deny the ill the benefit of her knowledge.
He smirked. “You think to bargain with me when you sit here on my ship, as my prisoner?”