Page 36 of Bride of Ice
Without even trying, he’d already found his way into Isabel’s heart and the hearts of several young swooning lasses. He’d befriended Ian with a game of chess. He’d convinced old Burunild, who’d treated his hurts, that he was in need of motherly affection. Brand and Gellir spoke with awe about the man’s claymore.
The prisoner wasn’t going to insinuate himself into the Rivenloch clan. Not on her watch. Not while her parents were away. And her cousins were in danger.
Hallie set about collecting the shards of the wine bottle. She might trust Colban now. But fate, like the wolves in the wood, had a way of turning on a person, biting at the most unexpected times.
Colban called down to Ian, “That’s very…impressive. Did ye build it yourself?”
Ian was probably showing off his latest project. A waterwheel propelled by buckets that filled and emptied with water.
“Are ye certain ’tis safe?” Colban asked.
Safe? Of course it was safe, Hallie thought. What could be unsafe about a wee toy waterwheel?
She picked up a shard shaped like a tiny dagger and placed it on the platter.
“Aye,” Ian replied. “I’ve taken precautions this time.”
Hallie froze. Precautions?Thistime? What was Ian showing him?
“I’m using a leather ball,” Ian called out.
“I see.”
“Last time I used a rock,” Ian said proudly, “and it made a dent in Rauve’s helm.”
Hallie gasped.
Not the trebuchet.
She dropped the platter and rushed to the window, pushing Colban aside.
“Ian Cameliard of Rivenloch!” she bellowed. “Don’t you dare—”
She was an instant too late. The lad had already loaded the sling of the wooden siege engine with a missile and raised the counterweight. As Hallie reached the window, the cord twanged, dropping the weight and releasing the arm.
Colban had heard of trebuchets. But he’d never seen one in action. Though the device was only about the size of a wheelbarrow instead of the building-high behemoths used in warfare, its force was undeniable.
Flung from the jointed arm, the apple-sized leather ball shot forward at great speed. It scattered a flock of hens in its wake, ruffled the skirts of a passing maidservant, and hit Ian’s older brother, who just happened to be crossing the courtyard, catching him hard in the belly and bowling him over.
Hallie gasped as Brand fell to the ground, laid low by the leather ball.
“Sorry, Brand!” Ian cried out.
Brand groaned, clutching his belly. Gellir, the oldest, ran to his brother, dropping to one knee to make sure he was unharmed.
“Ian,” Hallie ground out, “what did our da say?”
Ian lowered his head and dug his toe into the soil. “Not to fire the trebuchet in the courtyard.”
“And what did he say would happen if you did?”
“Nay, Hallie,” the lad protested, “Please don’t destroy it. I was only showing it to Colban.”
“Thehostage,”she corrected, “has no interest in such playthings.”
Colban would beg to differ. A siege engine that could fire missiles with such speed and force was of great interest.
“Besides,” Gellir called out, casting a dark glance at Colban, “you’re revealing a secret weapon to the enemy.”
