Éire’s Captive Moon Read Online Free PDF Page A

Devin obeyed, pouring out the measure with half an eye on it. The other half was on his brother, who gripped his sword hilt with both hardened hands. Charis—lips thinned in concentration—wrapped the seasoned sinew around the bad lower molar that was plaguing Devlin.
    “Now I need the lambskin,” she muttered, testing the tautness of the sinew. Then, giving no warning, she pulled the sinew and kicked her husband off the small boulder where he had rested.
    “Woman!” he roared, ignoring the blood pouring from his mouth.
    Charis did not ignore it, but pried open his jaw and tucked the clean ashes and absorbent skin in the gaping hole to staunch the wound. “I’m sorry, love,” she murmured, her voice low and soothing. “That wasn’t fair of me, I know, but you’re too strong for me to fight you when you know I’m coming.” Looking into his narrowed eyes, she kissed his nose. “Now, bite down on that. Harder.”
    “Wuhmuh!”
    “I know it hurts, but it will feel better soon. When the bleeding stops, I can give you something stronger.”
    Devlin grunted and allowed his brother to help him to his feet. “Go on,” Devin advised. “Rest yourself. I can see to the training this morning.”
    Devlin shot back a rude gesture that made Devin laugh again.
    In the brief moment of silence, Devin wrapped his arm around Charis’s shoulders. She leaned into him. Then the clatter of wooden weapons reached them through the thick air. “Sounds like your men are waiting,” the healer remarked.
    “Let ’em wait,” Devin returned, pulling her around to nibble at her lips. “Cumhall could take them.”
    She laughed softly and pressed against him. It never ceased to make her wonder, how she could love both men the way she did. They were different, for twins, but their love for her was equal.
    Charis was ready to be led to their round, multiroomed dwelling when shouts came through the mists.
    “Devin! Devlin! Come quick! Sail! Sail!” Charis felt a sheet of ice slice through her middle. She ran to the rise of land—too small to be called a cliff but too steep to be a proper beach. There to the east were the fabled red and white sails of the Northmen.  

Chapter 3

    Agnarr heard shouts come to him through the fog and his eyes glowed with the thrill of incipient battle. “So close, Tuirgeis! We could take them easily!”
    “No,” the leader said, the command in the syllable unassailable. “We go to the place of their god-man. The church,” he clarified for those who had never come here to the Green Isle. “That’s the place with the wealth, men! Gold, jewels and precious metals.”
    “Slaves, too,” Agnarr reminded them. “Good for sale. The men make good servants.”
    “And the women?”
    Agnarr winked. “They have their uses.” Tuirgeis led the way up from the shallows. Rocks seemed to reach for them as they worked to attain the solid ground of the beach. Sharp edges scraped through the toughened leather of their boots. Seabirds shouted their warnings overhead, making some of the men nervous, for who knew when the gulls were speaking for the gods?
    The men gathered from all the skipniu , each captain and battle leader converging on Tuirgeis, who reviewed the plans with the Ostmen . They presented a colorful view, seen from outside their circle. Their long hair, in all shades of yellow, brown, red and gray, fell heavily on thickly muscled shoulders. Many weapons were strapped to their backs for ease of movement and easy access. The majority of the warriors had axes because they required little skill to construct and could be absolutely paralyzing to the enemy when used in attack. Spears were carried by most as well. Only Agnarr and Tuirgeis had swords—ancestral blades made at great cost and handed down from father to son. They weren’t as effective as the axe in some offensive respects, but defensively, Agnarr found a sword to be better. With a sword, a man could also carry a shield; something the axe did