Raging Sea by Terri Brisbin Page B

he suspected that in the coming days, he would break most parts of the damned thing.
    â€œShe needed to be told, Soren.” Ingeborg walked up next to him as Ran rode off toward the south.
    â€œAye.” Soren turned to his aunt. “When I learned that my grandfather had been writing her, I thought that he would have revealed it to her.”
    â€œWell, now you will see what he told her and when,” she said. “Will you tell me, Soren? Tell me the truth about what bothered him so?”
    He wrapped his arms around his aunt and hugged her. “I thought you were at peace with his death?”
    â€œI am. I am just not at peace with his last months. He worried over something and would never share whatever that burden was with me.”
    â€œYou are a mere woman,” he joked, trying to lighten his aunt’s grief.
    â€œDo not jest over this, Soren. He searched for something or someone. He mumbled in his sleep. He left in the morning and would not return. And he sang those songs, the ones he taught you and your father from the time you could speak.”
    â€œWhen do you leave here?” Soren asked. He felt the urge to get her away from this area. He’d seen this cottage burned to ash in his dreams and feared it was an omen of things to come.
    â€œIn a day or two. My niece is expecting soon and I want to be there for the birth. Now that winter is easing its grasp on the seas, I will go.” She frowned now, searching his face. “Unless you wish me to stay.”
    â€œNay, do not delay in getting to her. She lives on one of the northern isles?”
    â€œAye. You sound concerned. What are you keeping from this mere woman now?” she asked, touching his cheek.
    â€œI know you are truly formidable, Aunt,” he reassured her. Or attempted to. “I think you will enjoy being with your niece.”
    Ingeborg went back inside the cottage, asking no more questions, which suited Soren. He had no answers for her and only fears about what was coming to Orkney. The winds whispered to him then, trying to ease his concerns but he was not soothed.
    Death was coming. Fire was coming. War was coming.
    Without more specific knowledge, Soren knew not from where or how. His dreams were filled with images of fire and war. And standing stones and brochs, like the ones that seemed to fascinate his grandfather.
    He hoped that Ander had been able to decipher the strange words or images. His friend had sent him a message to come to Kirkwall that day. A hint of excitement in the words gave Soren a sense of optimism that he would finally have something tangible to follow to discover his grandfather’s secrets and what they meant for him . . . and Ran.
    Soren promised to send one of the workers from his farm to help Ingeborg pack when she was ready and he rode to Kirkwall.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    â€œWhere did you get this, Soren? Truly, it is a marvel.” Ander looked up from his place at the large table and pointed to the parchment Soren had left with him. “You must tell me or I will not tell you what I have discovered about it.” Priest or not, Ander could be ruthless when it mattered and he’d clearly decided it mattered now.
    â€œThis remains between the two of us?” Soren asked. Then he repeated it as a demand, his tone sharp enough that Ander blinked several times as he spoke. “This remains between us.”
    â€œVery well,” Ander said in all seriousness.
    â€œMy grandfather.”
    Silence and a knowing expression met that admission.
    â€œI would not share this with many, even without your orders, due to its very nature and content.” Ander smiled and then put the sheet down on the table. Pointing to the top line, he nodded. “I did not recognize it at first, but comparing it to several other documents and manuscripts, it is actually Latin from a very specific place.”
    â€œLatin? It is no Latin I have