Highland Warrior by McCollum, Heather (people reading books TXT) 📗

“I have come back from the grave with vengeance against those who show no honor. I have come for ye, John Dishington.”

The ominous words, resounding in the chilled wind, from someone breaking out of a grave in the middle of the night, were enough to make Dishington hesitate. Even if logically he knew the whole spectacle was a farce, the combined elements fed the fears owned by every mortal man. He took another step back, which gave Joshua enough time to pull his legs free of his earthen shackles.

Muscles aching from the pressure and cold, Joshua called on his fury to heat his blood. “Ye dare to strike against God’s messenger,” Joshua declared, his voice thundering as he leaped from the shallow grave, striding slowly toward his adversary.

Off to the side, he glanced at Calder and Osk tied up against the chapel, Osk bent over unconscious while Calder struggled in his ropes, a gag in his mouth. But no one else was about as Joshua stalked after the grisly man who seemed to have recovered from his unease.

“Lying bastard,” Dishington said and surged forward, his sword point out as if he were jousting. Joshua held himself ready to deflect it. At the last second, Dishington tripped, flying forward with the force of his run. Eyes and mouth opening wide, he hurtled directly into Joshua’s sword point. Shock and pain molded his face into a death mask, and he crumpled to the trampled grass.

“I hope it is a painful trip to Hell,” Joshua said, wiping an arm over his face to rid his eyes of grit. He spit out more grime.

“Joshua.”

Joshua spun around to see Kára struggling to free herself completely of the dirt. The glow that the lantern cast across the stone markers, along with her rising from the grave, was indeed a sight to make a grown man hesitate. Joshua hurried over, cupping his hands to shovel off the layers weighting her legs and reached under her arms to slide her out. “Kára. Are ye hurt?”

“I… Joshua… I…” Kára could not seem to catch her breath. “You need to know.”

Wiping at her face with his thumbs, she caught his hands, looking up into his face. “Under the ground I realized…” She reached up, catching his face in her hands. He could feel her trembling. “I…I need you to know… If one of us died without you knowing…”

“Aye, lass?” he prompted, catching her hands with his.

Behind him, someone spit. “God’s bones, you two, set us free,” Calder called, followed by a low moan from Osk.

Kára dropped her hand, her gaze sliding past him. “Oh God,” she whispered and hurried past him. “Where is Amma?” She crouched, yanking free her dagger, to saw at their ties. Joshua glanced at the unmoving body of Dishington and followed her, drawing his own sgian dubh to help.

“Back at the tavern waiting for us,” Calder said. “After Lord Robert, Patrick, and his men rode away, the Hillside men urged her to walk back down with them before taking her to your den to wait with Geir and Hilda. We stayed back here in the dark to help you dig out.”

“Then that bastard snuck up on us. Hit us hard,” Osk said, rubbing his head, his hair sticking out in all directions. He looked at blood smeared on his fingers and cursed.

Calder gathered the rope. “I woke in time to see him stepping on Kára’s grave and then kneeling near where your head was buried,” he said, nodding to Joshua.

Kára rubbed her chest. “I felt his weight.”

Calder walked over to where the unmoving body lay. “He tripped running at you.” He shook his head and crouched down near Dishington’s feet. He looked sideways at them over by the chapel, stopping on Kára. “He tripped over your family’s grave marker.”

Her brows lowered. “’Tis impossible. Their marker is on the other side of me,” she said, walking over. The dirt-stained wrappings of her shroud dragged behind her like the sash of a muddy gown.

“See,” Calder said from his position. “It has their names.”

Kára grabbed the lantern, dodged around Dishington’s body, and held the light up to illuminate the slightly sunken area of undisturbed grass on the other side of where minutes ago she’d been buried. “It is…” She stared up at Joshua, her eyes and mouth wide. “The marker has been moved,” she said looking back at the stone where Calder stood.

“Into the perfect place to trip Dishington, sending him flying into your sword,” Osk said as he rubbed the rope marks on his wrists. He smiled. “Da was helping you out, Highlander.”

He could have finished Dishington himself. “It was my sword,” Joshua murmured. “And my words that frightened him back.”

“Maybe he saw Da’s spirit behind you,” Osk said. He was in shadows, but Joshua heard the jest in his voice.

Calder scratched his head. “If you had been awake, Osk, you would not say that.” He glanced at Joshua. “I nearly pissed myself when I saw you punch your hand up through the dirt and then sit up, spouting biblical prophecy as if God spoke through you.” He shook his head and looked at Osk. “Even if your da had been floating above, watching the Horseman of War lift his sword from his grave was more startling.”

Kára took Joshua’s hand. She inhaled. “My menacing beast.” She pulled closer to him while Osk made a few retching sounds at her words.

Joshua wiped his hand over her dusty hair, pulling her close once again. “It is time to go.”

“Where there are trees?” she asked, searching his face.

“Aye, and horses,” he said slowly.

“You two could stop gazing at each other and help us get Dishington into your grave,” Osk said, and Joshua heard his sword thump on the ground behind him. “It seems fitting for him to lie for eternity with a stinking seal.”

Kára continued to gaze at Joshua as she spoke. “We need to get cleaned up so we can travel as soon as you finish.”

“But he is heavy, and