Raven needed Greta to confirm what she surmised, but before she could a horrific roar from outside had both women jumping up and running out of the cottage.
“He changed course away from the village?” Wolf asked as he tried to make sense of it.
Iver nodded. “He has stopped by the river and looks as if he waits. I assume he waits to hear from the warrior who went ahead of him. Or he waits for another and the one ahead of him makes sure no one lingers about.”
“He can’t mean to cross that river,” Arran said. “The melting snow swells it and causes it to rush wildly this time of year. Could he be meeting someone from your tribe?”
“Anything is possible, but I have yet to uncover anyone unfaithful in my tribe,” Wolf said, annoyed that it was even a possibility that someone may have betrayed him.
“What could he wait for?” Arran asked.
Iver shrugged. “Information?”
The three men shook their heads.
“None of his actions thus far make sense and yet he is up to something and I have no doubt it will bring harm to someone,” Wolf said.
Raven rushed toward Fyn when he stumbled toward them, blood running down his face from a wound to his head.
“He’s gone. Taken. Tait,” Fyn managed to say.
Greta screamed and Fyn reached out and wrapped her in his arms.
Raven let loose with a roar that would have her men rushing to her. Clive was there in no time along with Lars and Gorm. It wasn’t long before Brod was there, but she had a message rushed to George to remain where he was and that he was to let no one enter the keep until he heard from her.
Fyn urged Greta to tend his wound so that he could join the search for Tait.
Raven thought otherwise. “You need to stay here and protect Greta. She has much to tell you.”
Fyn looked to Greta but her eyes were on Raven. “I beg you, please bring my son back to me and please make sure there is no chance of him ever being taken from me again.”
“You have my word,” Raven said and joined Clive and Brod, who were huddled in talk with Lars and Gorm.
A plan was formed quickly, men were gathered just as hastily, and Raven stood by and watched as the men set off.
“It is good you obey your husband and remain behind,” Gorm said, standing beside her and watching the group of men disappear into the woods.
“You should go and keep extra watch on Brynjar’s men,” Raven advised. “I go to wait in the longhouse.”
Gorm looked to Clive. “You will stay with her.”
“I won’t leave her side,” Clive confirmed.
Raven watched along with Clive, Gorm hurry off, comfortable that Clive would look after Raven.
“You know what I intend to do,” Raven said.
“Aye,” Clive said with a nod, “and I’m right by your side.”
Wolf and Arran scrunched behind bushes along with Iver and watched Brynjar pace not far from the river’s edge.
“He’s impatient,” Arran whispered.
“He waits for his warrior to bring someone to him,” Wolf said, his stomach knotting. Had he truly been after Raven all this time? Had he made it seem obvious so that they would think otherwise? Had his plan been all along to take Raven? Had he been foolish to dismiss it? Had he placed his wife in danger?
“I see your fear for Raven,” Iver whispered. “If he sent a warrior to capture her, then wait and watch for she will deliver his body to Brynjar with a smile.”
“She has not the strength,” Arran argued.
Iver grinned. “She has what is needed—no fear and skill.”
“I can attest to her fearlessness,” Arran admitted. “I watched her get into the damnedest things when she was young and the consequences didn’t discourage her in the least.”
The knots in Wolf’s stomach grew worse and a low growl rumbled from his lips.
Iver shook his head. “The Beast may be powerful, his attacks vicious, but the Raven flies free and waits patiently before attacking her prey and leaving them helpless.”
A whimpering cry caught their attention and they watched as Brynjar’s warrior appeared, Tait tucked under his arm.
“Give him over,” Brynjar ordered and the man was quick to obey.
Tait’s skinny little arms and legs thrashed out, making the exchange difficult, but a quick slap to Tait’s face had him gasp and go still long enough for Brynjar to take hold of him by the back of his shirt, his small wool cloak having been lost in his struggle along the way.
“Anyone see you?” Brynjar demanded.
“No. it was easy. He was right where I had often seen him, with the tall fellow called Fyn. I left him bleeding in the snow. It will take time to find him and for them to gather and search.”
“Good. We will be gone by then and not easily found,” Brynjar said with gleeful satisfaction.