Medieval 02 - Forbidden

had drawn his own sword until he felt its cold, familiar weight in his hand.
    “The hammer,” Erik said in a neutral voice. “Why did you choose that from all the weapons in the armory?”
    Surprised, Duncan looked at the weapon that felt so right in his hands.
    “I have no sword,” Duncan said simply.
    “So?”
    “There is no better battle weapon than the hammer for a man with no sword.”
    Slowly both Simon and Erik nodded.
    “May I borrow it?” Duncan asked. “Or is it the special favorite of one of your knights?”
    “No,” Erik said in a soft voice. “You may keep it.”
    “Thank you, lord. Daggers are fine for close fighting or slicing roasts, but a man needs a weapon with reach for serious fighting.”
    “Are you planning to fight soon?” Erik probed.
    Grinning, Duncan let the chain slip and rattle through his fingers, testing the hammer’s weight and length.
    “If I came upon some outlaws bent upon an early grave,” Duncan said, “I would hate to disappoint them for lack of a weapon.”
    Simon laughed outright.
    Erik smiled like the wolf he was reputed to be.
    All three men looked at one another in silent recognition—and appreciation—of the hot fighting blood that ran through each of them.
    Abruptly Erik clapped both Duncan and Simon on the shoulder as though they were brothers by blood as well as by inclination.
    “With men like you at my side, I wouldn’t fear taking on the Glendruid Wolf himself,” Erik said.
    Simon’s smile faded. “The Scots Hammer tried. And failed.”
    For a moment Duncan became so still that it seemed as though his very heart had stopped beating.
    Amber’s had. Then it lurched and beat frantically.
    “Duncan?” she asked, nakedly pleading. “Won’t you come now with me to the fen?”
    He didn’t answer for the space of one breath, two breaths, three…
    Then he made a low sound. His fingers clenched on the hammer until it seemed that steel must give way before flesh.
    “Aye, lass,” Duncan said in a low voice. “I will go with you.”
    “It may storm before sunset,” Erik warned.
    Smiling gently, Duncan touched a lock of Amber’s hair.
    “With Amber nearby,” he said, “I never lack for sunlight.”
    She smiled in return, though her lips trembled with a fear for him that was so great she was afraid she would scream.
    “Won’t you leave that behind?” Amber asked, pointing to the hammer.
    “Nay. Now I can defend you.”
    “It isn’t necessary. There are no outlaws this close to Sea Home.”
    Ignoring the others in the room, Duncan leaned down until his lips all but brushed Amber’s hair. He inhaled her scent deeply and looked into her anxious golden eyes.
    “I won’t take a chance with you, precious Amber,” he murmured. “If someone cut you, I fear I would bleed.”
    Though the words were very soft, Simon heard them. He looked at Amber with an anger that was difficult to conceal.
    Cursed hell-witch. To steal a man’s mind and smile !
    “Duncan,” Amber whispered.
    The sound was as much a sigh as a name. She took his hard hand between hers, ignoring the cold weight of chain.
    “Let us hurry, my dark warrior. I have already packed a supper and sent word for two horses to be made ready.”
    “Three,” corrected Erik.
    “Are you going?” Amber asked, surprised.
    “No. Egbert is.”
    “Ah. Egbert. Of course. Well, we shall just ignore him.”
     
    D UNCAN shifted carefully and then looked over his shoulder, not wanting to cause the nervous horse any alarm. They had crept away from the picnic, leaving Egbert asleep with his own horse and Duncan’s grazing nearby. Amber had insisted that they take only her horse when they stole away to the fen.
    The trail out of Sea Home’s gentle fields had quickly become rugged, especially for a horse carrying double. There were places they had ridden over that had made Duncan blink. At first glance the way looked impassable. But a few steps aside from the obvious path, another look, and there was always a surprisingly easy course to follow.
    It was enough to make a man nervous. Apparently the horse wasn’t happy about it, either. Or perhaps the animal was simply uneasy about carrying two riders.
    “No sign of him,” Duncan said, looking forward once again.
    “Poor Egbert,” Amber said, but she sounded more amused than alarmed. “Erik will be quite put out.”
    “‘Poor Egbert’ is asleep on the other side of that ridge,” Duncan muttered. “He lies at ease in a field warmed by a