The Tides of Time(Book2 in the Time Travel Series)

Chapter Eight: Faith

I dedicate this chapter, and this book in its entirety, in the loving memory of my nephew, Kaleb Alan. I'm sure you stealing god's iPhone and deleting all his important apps. Yo-Ho, lets go dubbers!

From the corner of Brenhin's eye, he caught the slightest hint of movement as the flap to the hut parted open. His sharp eyes caught creamy skin, the slightest peak of shapely legs, and dark eyes watching-watching him. It sent an unnerving wave of sheer male pride through him. That she was watching him, and admired what she saw.

Pain shot up through his shoulder as Tarrek nicked him smartly with his blunted blade. He glared at his friend, who unabashedly glared right back at him. A silent reprimand was exchanged, the shorter, dark haired warrior clearly miffed that his opponent was so easily distracted. Brenhin set his feet apart, his shoulders set to match, set his jaw and attacked. Brenhin moved with a with efficiency, every sweep and strike of his blade with a purpose.

Tarrek, even on his best day, could not manage to wind Brenhin when the chieftain set his mind solely on the battle at hand. Tarrek struggled to block blow after blow, his movements not a quarter fast enough to stop Brenhin from disarming him with a quick swipe of his leg around Tarreks', sending him flat on his back. Brenhin seized the man's fallen blade and held both swords to his opponents' throat.

"Do you yield?" Brenhin asked, his chest rising and falling in a manner that suggested he was no where near being tired.

Tarrek gazed up at his comrade with a mixture of displeasure at having been beaten and respect.

"Aye."

Brenhin climbed to his feet offering the fallen warrior his hand. Tarrek clasped it, tightening his grip around Brenhin's hand as he pulled himself to a standing position. Brenhin passed the man his blade as he turned to face his other clansmen. He peaked slyly at the hut across the way, but was irked to see that the girl was gone. He pushed all thoughts of her from her mind.

For now.

"War is upon us. We lose our brothers, our sisters, our mothers and fathers and wives every day due to the Roman's relentless bloodlust. They wish to dominate us, they want to seize our lands and claim them as their own. They may have many men, and glamorous armor.

"But we have more-we have our ancestors. Our blood forged these hills, created our homes and created the twelve clans. We have honor and so much more on our side." Brenhin declared, eliciting a victorious whoop! from his me. "Just yesterday we defeated them-sent the cowards running for the hills. My brothers, we will have justice! We will protect these lands, and our people!"

A cheer went out the group of men, lifting their heavy blades and spears. Brenhin dismissed them with a blessing before turning towards his hut. His stomach tightened at the thought of seeing her again. While she bared a striking likeness to Coira, the two were vastly different. Coira had been kind and gentle. She had never spoken to him in anger. In truth they had never argued at all.

But this girl . . . she was like a summer storm, with her crackling temper, and wayward manner. She yelled, she argued, she hit him! Him! The leader of the isle's most fearsome tribe! This sprite of a girl talked down to him as though she were his superior.

Brenhin chuckled as he recalled her surprise when he had entered the hut. Her pale skin had flushed like the sky at sunset, her dark eyes dancing with a thousand thoughts. The way she had thrown that bowl at his head had taken him aback but that hadn't stopped him from goading her. Brenhin's smile slipped. Why did he enjoy teasing her? He'd teased Coira, but his wife had blushed and laughed at his attentions. Never once did she attempt to maim him for his teasing.