Once a Warrior Read Free

nothing in the world existed in isolation, that everything was dependent upon something else in order to survive. Ariella had immediately thought of her unconditional love for her father and had understood completely. Without him Ariella knew she could not survive.
    On the terrible day he was murdered, she had curled into a tiny ball beside him and willed herself to die as well. To her bitter disappointment, she did not. For weeks after, she awoke each morning to find herself very much alive, despite the fact that her heart was bursting with such grief, she felt certain she could not bear it another moment.
    Finally, realizing she had to go on, she learned to temper her grief with hate.
    At first she directed her hatred at Roderic. He had lied to her, pretending to be a friend, then betraying her trust by bringing an army to attack her clan, thinking to force her to give him the sword and make him laird. Hating Roderic was easy. But it was not enough. So she included all of his warriors beneath the mantle of her loathing, those evil savages who had derived such vile pleasure from attacking her people and her home, easily slaughtering defenseless men who barely knew how to lift a weapon. But these were faceless, nameless figures, and hating them could not begin to ease the agony coursing through her veins.
    And so she had sharpened the dagger of her hatred and thrust it ruthlessly into the heart of the Black Wolf.
    Alpin had told her father he would come. He had seen it in a vision, and Alpin’s visions, though sometimes hazy, were never wrong. Her father waited, jubilant with the knowledge that the next laird of his clan would be a man with the exceptional bravery and honor of the chief known as the Black Wolf. As his wariness of Roderic increased and the Black Wolf failed to arrive, Ariella’s father grew concerned. He sent two clansmen to find this warrior and deliver his message, offering him lairdship of the Clan MacKendrick and Ariella for his wife, if he would come immediately with his great army.
    The Black Wolf never came.
    For that, Ariella would never forgive him. Although she had not known his reasons, his failure to fulfill Alpin’s vision was too awful to be pardoned. She had raged at Alpin that it did not matter if he ever came, for she wanted nothing to do with him.
    Unfortunately, Alpin saw things differently.
    The Clan MacKendrick was isolated and without a laird, which put it in a dangerously vulnerable position. For one hundred years they had been at peace. Consequently, the ways of warfare had been lost. Instead of building fortifications and training for battle, the clan had cultivated its skills in the arts. This enabled them to amass a splendid collection of rich silverware and carvings, tapestries and jewelry, fine furniture and fabrics. The MacKendricks viewed these objects as a part of everyday life. But Roderic had taught them that others were not so casual in their attitude. To an outsider these objects were worth a fortune. Which meant when Roderic’s men spread tales of what they had found there, others would come, seeking to steal from them as well.
    And then, of course, there was the sword.
    She did not know how Roderic had learned of its existence. She could not bring herself to believe that one of her people would betray the clan. But Roderic had known of it, and he knew she was the only one with the ability to give it to him. No one actually understood the extent of the sword’s powers, for it had not been wielded in battle for over a century. But legend said he who was granted the power of the sword could walk without fear into the bloodiest of battles. The weapon could not fell an entire army, but it would protect its master. Unfortunately, after generations of peace, the sword had come to be revered as a sacred, ceremonial object, and her father did not keep it with him, did not even store it within the walls of the castle. That was why it had not been able to protect him that day.