Page 32 of The Unencumbered Warrior
Raff nor Ingrid spoke until they were back at her cottage.
Raff shut the door behind them and leaned against it, arms folded, as if to prevent the world from entering.
Ingrid stood in the center of the room, her cloak still on, her left hand hidden beneath its folds. “They’ll demand someone when they return, and fear will force someone to speak.”
Raff crossed to her. “They’ll have to go through me first.”
She looked up, her eyes brave but shadowed. “I will not see you harmed because of me.”
He reached for her concealed hand and gently drew it forward, his thumb brushing the curve of the fused fingers.
“I will let no one take you from me.”
“You cannot win against six warriors,” she said sadly, her eyes shimmering as she stepped into his arms, resting her head against his chest.
He held her close, letting the stillness speak what words could not. But over her shoulder, Raff’s gaze found the window and the forest beyond it. If the witch who cursed him still lingered in the shadows, he would find her. And if the curse had chosen Ingrid as its price… then he would do what he must to break it.
Even if it meant calling the darkness to him once more.
CHAPTER 14
The merchant’s cart rattled over the uneven road, its wheels groaning as it came to a halt just inside the village. The children who’d been playing with sticks and stones scattered, their laughter drying up in the sudden hush. Word of a merchant’s arrival always spread quickly, and before long a small gathering had formed, faces cautious and eyes curious.
Raff stood among them, his arm around Ingrid.
The merchant climbed down from his seat, a wiry man with sharp shoulders and a keener gaze. His cloak was dusty, and his boots crusted in mud.
“I bring goods for trade,” he called out, “but it’s not just cloth or metal you need to hear about today.”
Anxious murmurs rippled through the crowd.
He tossed a glance over his shoulder as though worried he’d been followed. “It’s the witch frenzy,” he said low but clearly. “It’s spread. Clan MacMunn set the first torch, and now the flames are catching everywhere. Even clans that once scoffed at such talk are sending word to those who hunt for coin.”
“Mercenaries?” someone asked.
The merchant nodded grimly. “Aye. They’re calling themselves cleansers now, as if the name gives them honor. They come bearing contracts, offering to hunt witches for a price and not just in the woods. They’re stirring up fear in every village they pass through.”
Latham spoke. “They haven’t been here.”
“Not yet,” the merchant said with a quick shake of his finger. “But they will come. They go where rumors linger. If your village is thought to harbor a healer too skilled, an old woman too solitary, a strange mark or disfigurement—they’ll come. You’d do well to rid your village of anyone suspect before they do.”
Gasps filled the air. A few turned to glance at old widow Enid, who stood leaning on her walking stick, her head wrapped in wool despite the warmth of the day.
“No one here is a witch,” Raff said loud enough to cut through the growing whispers.
The merchant shrugged. “It may not matter. Truth’s not what they hunt. Fear’s enough to fatten their purses. But enough of that, I have a variety of things to trade. Who is interested?”
He traded briefly, bartered for bread and dried berries, and left without ceremony.
“This isn’t good,” Latham said. “This frenzy will see innocent people put to death.”
“Which is why we stand strong,” Raff said. “We protect all in our clan. We don’t allow them to frighten us and make false accusations. We must stand together, protect each other if we are to survive this foolish frenzy.”
“Raff is right,” Edith said. “Trust will be lost if we falsely accuse anyone among us of being a witch. We will lose all trust in each other if friends turn into foes.”
“What if they don’t believe us and take an innocent among us?” Tolan asked.
Raff spoke up. “We defend the accused until we put enough doubt in their minds that they release her.”
