Once a Warrior by Karyn Monk

if not for the bright flash of yellow that suddenly caught her eye. Curious, she slowed her horse and moved toward it, wondering if someone had lost a cloak while hunting. As she got closer, she realized the yellow cloth was a shirt, and that it covered the back of a man who lay facedown upon the ground. He had been brutally stabbed, and the condition of his body indicated he had been dead for some time. Horrified, she tore her gaze from him, only to see another man lying a few meters away.
    Guy and Marcus.
    She wheeled her horse about, then slid to the ground and pressed her forehead against Shena’s neck, fighting to stifle the sobs rising from the back of her throat.
    “What is it?” demanded Malcolm, thundering forward. He reached her and dismounted as fast as his body would allow. “Are you ill?”
    She swallowed and shook her head. Without looking she pointed in the direction of the bodies.
    Malcolm was joined by the others as he went to investigate.
    “It’s Guy and Marcus,” said Duncan, shaken. “The messengers Laird MacKendrick sent to speak with you.”
    “They have been dead for some two months,” Malcolm observed grimly. “Perhaps as they returned, they came upon the band of warriors about to attack your clan. They were killed so they could not warn you.”
    Fresh hatred surged through Ariella. Two more deaths at the hands of Roderic.
    “We must bring them with us,” said Andrew. “They will need a proper burial.”
    “No.”
    All four looked at her in surprise.
    Torn by her decision, she tried to make them understand. “We are returning to our clan with the mighty Black Wolf, who has agreed to help us. It is a cause for celebration, and our people have long awaited this moment. We cannot arrive bearing the evidence of more savagery and death.”
    “But we can’t just leave them here like this,” protested Duncan. “Shall we bury them?”
    She shook her head. “Marcus and Guy deserve the decency of a burial in the presence of their clan and their priest. We will cover them with a cloth and leave them to sleep under the stars a final night. Tomorrow you and Andrew will return here to fetch their bodies. That will be soon enough to let the clan know of this atrocity.”
    Duncan and Andrew nodded and went to fetch a blanket.
    She turned to Malcolm. “It is best we do not tell my clan you are no longer laird of the Clan MacFane. It will invite too many questions and may undermine the respect you will need to train them.” She disliked the idea of lying to them but knew she had little choice.
    Malcolm shrugged. “You are paying for my services. Tell your clan whatever you like.”
    “I will ride on ahead, to announce our arrival.” She mounted her horse and galloped across the meadow toward her home, hatred and loss weighing heavily upon her.
    If MacFane had maintained his position as laird, this would never have happened, she reflected bitterly. He would have accepted her father’s proposal, gathered a force of warriors, and ridden back with Guy and Marcus, keeping them safe. He would have slain Roderic, driven away his men, and continued on to her castle as the mighty Black Wolf, just as Alpin had foreseen it.
    Blaming him could not ease the despondency that gripped her as she realized what she had done. She had set out to find the magnificent Black Wolf and bring him back to her people as their new laird. Instead she was returning with this drunken, pathetic, broken warrior, who was to train them in return for gold.
    The moment her people laid eyes upon him, they would question her right to bestow the powers of the sword.

C HAPTER 3

    “They have returned!”
    The announcement echoed through the air as Ariella burst through the cover of the woods. Her people waved at her as she flew past their cottages, then quickly gathered their children and hurried up the green slope of land toward the castle, eager to welcome the mighty Black Wolf.
    Ariella did not stop, so anxious was she to warn