Free Glimmer in the Maelstrom: Shadow Through Time 3 by Louise Cusack

coming up behind him, a timely reminder that he must not allow his love for Lae to hamper his duty. The protection of the Volcastle rested in his hands. ‘Captain?’ he said, turning to face the battle-scarred old warrior who had been a friend of his father.
    ‘Our sentries have spied a thin trail of smoke rising from the woods to the south-west. Last night and this morning.’
    A campfire for sure. ‘Northmen?’ Pagan asked.
    ‘I know not, My Lord,’ the captain replied. ‘But it was closer this morning.’
    ‘Verdan?’ Pagan suggested hopefully.
    ‘After all this time, My Lord?’
    The Guard Captain was right, of course. The royal Volcastle had been under siege for three years. If the House of Verdan had survived the Northman invasion, they would surely have come to their king’s aid sooner. And the clan of Northmen who had taken up residence in the forest outside the castle gates would hardly be expecting reinforcements after all this time, though their number had been halved by starvation and lack of adequate shelter.
    Those inside the Volcastle’s impregnable walls had suffered only the boredom of eating stockpiled grain and the limited variety of vegetables grown in the castle precincts. The Northmen outside had been forced to subsist on forest berries, bark and leaves. Kert, who had controlled the royal forces before his death, had watched the Northmen weaken, stubbornly refusing to abandon their siege. Comfortably supplied within the Volcastle, Kert had merely waited on an opportunity to conquer their enemies without loss to his own forces.
    Pagan had only been the Volcastle commander these past two days, but he felt confident that objective could now be achieved. Dark clouds, seen through the great hall’s open ceiling, jostled above. ‘This storm could rid us of the Northmen at last,’ he said, keen for a military distraction. ‘If we attack in its wake, we may finally break the siege and win freedom for our castle.’
    ‘And those who approach us, My Lord?’
    Pagan’s enthusiasm faltered. He knew he must use prudence. ‘How much smoke is there?’ he asked.
    ‘A thin trail soon extinguished. My Lord,’ the Guard Captain said. ‘A small party, I would surmise.’
    ‘Or a larger force intent on misleading us,’ Pagan replied. His concern was that his men risked being caught outside. ‘Alert me if the ground party reaches the clearing before the storm breaks.’ They could not hide their number there. And if it was Northman reinforcements, Pagan would consider his options then.
    ‘My Lord, I shall ready the men.’ The Guard Captain strode from the dais and Pagan followed, preparing his mind for battle as he made for his rooms, damping the surge of hot blood that rose with the thought of steel striking steel. To spend his eagerness before the battle was a waste every apprentice warrior was warned to avoid. ‘Prepare the mind and the body will follow,’ his father had taught him, and so, as Pagan strode the pale stone corridors, shadowed now by the storm building outside, he prepared his mind for the conflict to come, seeing himself pierce the flesh of his enemies again and again.
    ‘It will be done,’ he said, but then into his mind came the vision of Lae running to give him a triumphant kiss. She was laughing at his victory, teasing him as she had been wont to do in the days before love had gentled their sparring ways. Then she kissed him and he felt her slender frame melt against him, stirring …
    Pagan stood in his own rooms, listening to the thundering of his heart.
    This was fatal.
    He raised a hand to dismiss his attendant then went to a couch and lay upon it, settling himself into a cleansing ritual to purge his mind of distractions. He loved Lae. No amount of denial could erase that fact. But if she entered his mind in the heat of battle, he might not return to fight for her love.
    As his blood slowed to a steady deep pulse and quiet settled over his mind. Pagan wondered which