Blind Allegiance

187 Pages·2013·0.86 MB·English

by  Rand Violetta

Table of Contents
BLIND ALLEGIANCE
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
BLIND ALLEGIANCE
The Blind Series - Book 1
VIOLETTA RAND
SOUL MATE PUBLISHING
New York
BLIND ALLEGIANCE
Copyright©2013
VIOLETTA RAND
Cover Design by Ramona Lockwood
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are
the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living
or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a
retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the priority written
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other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by
law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate
in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
Published in the United States of America by Soul Mate Publishing P.O. Box 24
Macedon, New York, 14502
ISBN-13: 978-1-61935—248-3
www.SoulMatePublishing.com The publisher does not have any control over
and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or
their content.
To my mother, Betty,
for gifting me with the love of words and reading
and Kelly Graham,
for believing in me . . .
Acknowledgements
A special thanks and loved-filled appreciation for a husband who faced too many
lonely nights and half-heard conversations while I typed away . . . Jeff, I love
you!
I am grateful to Soul Mate Publishing and my editor, Cynthia Brannam, for
giving me a chance to fulfill a dream.
Many thanks to Doug and Milisa Zornes (who not only listened, but cooked for
me, too), Meredith Mix (who never gave up on me), Jackie Ivie, Carolyn Ellis
(who always told the truth), all the wonderful and talented ladies in the RWA
Alaska chapter who provided knowledge and support, Rudy Nino, Phyllys
Callina, Mary Aho, Mindy Willis, Daniel Skrzynski, and Ross Reed.
Prologue
Orkney Islands
October 6, 1011 AD
Randvior Sigurdsson planted his feet in the sand and gazed eastward across
the North Sea. He raised his war axe high above his head and saluted his
forefathers. A yellow-tinged quarter-moon, haloed by rings of light and mist,
loomed overhead like an apparition. It inspired the Viking to speak ancient
verses to attract Odin’s favor. Only six days separated him from Norway and he
desperately wanted to go home.
Motionless, he closed his eyes and swore he heard his ancestors chanting the
same praises to honor the old gods. Every night for the last three months, he’d
walked this shoreline and surveyed the flat landscape. At times, he regretted
establishing new steadings in the Orkneys—tonight seemed to be one of them.
Barren hollows of sand and withering bushes stretched as far as the eye could
see. The only redemptive qualities in these islands were the familiar scent of salt
water and the brooding sounds of gulls.
Sighing deeply, he turned and walked toward the flimsy lean-to he slept
inside when he chose to stay onshore. As he neared the camp he shared with his
men, he spied a few soldiers sitting near a roaring fire, passing wine around.
They greeted him and offered the bottle. Randvior shook his head. No spirits
tonight, unless they were the kind the gods sent as messengers in dreams.
He kicked open the plank door and stepped inside the shelter. It was barely
large enough to accommodate his bulk. He stripped off his cloak and lay down,
stared overhead, and studied the brightening nighttime sky between gaps in the
boarded ceiling. Thousands of stars twinkled above. He counted them one by
one, as he’d often done as a child. And very slowly, his eyes grew heavy with
sleep.
In the middle of the night, Randvior’s dreams caught fire. He growled and
cursed, challenged and defended, until he rolled off his cot and knocked himself
awake. He tried to remember where he was exactly. The shelter was dark, but
the vision of a woman’s face glared at him through the pitch. Almond-shaped
eyes pinned him to the floor.
He thought he remembered that beautiful face, crowned by a mane of honey-
colored hair. She resembled one of Odin’s Valkyries, perhaps a match to the
ones depicted in the tapestries in his hall.
He sat up and she uttered a single word. Durham.
But . . . why?
Chapter 1
Invasion
Durham, England
October 10, 1011 AD
Dark clouds always gathered in Noelle Sinclair’s dreams. Hundreds of
nightmares had played out in her mind since childhood. Why should tonight be
any different?
The smell of burning wood invaded her sleep. Smoke snatched her breath
and she tried to purge her lungs by taking deep breaths. She ran for the great hall
and all she could see were scorched rafters and floorboards. Guards scrambled to
the battlements, while women and children fled the castle. She searched for her
sisters among the people migrating outside.
“Fire!”
Noelle’s eyes snapped open at the sound of dire warning. By God, this was
no dream! She flung blankets aside and rolled over, shook her older sister
awake, and jumped out of bed.
“What’s wrong?” Margaret asked sleepily.
“The castle’s on fire. Get up, now!”
Margaret scurried from bed and ran with Noelle to the windows overlooking
the eastern edge of the castle. Through the swirling fog, Noelle could make out a
tangle of men with torches and weapons in the courtyard below. She further
scanned the shoreline where the North Sea pounded against the rocks and dunes.
The castle was under siege and poorly defended. Most of the soldiers and her
father were in Ireland, leaving only her brother and a skeleton army behind.
Her gaze still locked on the beach, Noelle caught sight of three, silvery-
white longships anchored beyond the walls. Their blood-red sails snapped in the
wind. She stared in horror as the pattern on the sails came into focus—the shape
of a dragon.
“We need to get outside,” she said, and gave Margaret a gentle push toward
the door.
Noelle grabbed a cloak from a hook, wrapped it around her shoulders, and
thrust her feet into the first pair of available shoes. Exiting the bedchamber,
Noelle led the way down the passageway, then descended the stairway that
ended in the great hall. She halted midway, and Margaret drew back, frightened
by the spectacle of violence below. Swords and pikes, fiery torches and axes—a
blur of bodies and faces awaited them. The smell of blood and sweat permeated
the room instead of the familiar scent of bread baking in the kitchen.
“What can we do?” Margaret whimpered.
“Keep moving,” she answered, and gripped her hand.
They reached the bottom floor. Men were fighting everywhere and the sound
of metal scraping metal deafened her ears. She searched for a familiar face,
someone to help them escape. Luckily, John, her father’s favorite captain, met
them near the stairs.
“Run!” He lowered his weapon and pointed.
Noelle stumbled, but managed to sneak between two combatants. She
looked over her shoulder at John.
“Go!” he screamed.
Before she could take another step, John collapsed. Noelle couldn’t move a
muscle to help him. Her entire body quaked under the weight of his assailant’s
steely stare—the man resembled a flesh and bone devil. Trembling still, she
sprinted for the main doors with Margaret in tow. They made it to within a few
feet of the entryway.
Heavily armored men blocked their route and a flash of movement attracted
Noelle’s attention. Another enemy charged from their right flank. His mouth
hung open as he spoke words she didn’t understand. Heathen curses that made
her skin crawl. She squared her shoulders and pulled Margaret closer, her sister’s
heavy panting warmed the nape of her neck. The warrior’s mouth twisted into a
cruel smile.
“Easy,” Noelle whispered. She didn’t know where she found the strength to
comfort Margaret as her own knees wobbled. Her grasp of reality threatened to
disintegrate at any moment.
Just as Noelle contemplated making another move, a battle axe swung and
split the offender’s skull. Blood spattered across the front of her cloak and
Margaret shrieked. Noelle dropped her sister’s hand and motioned forward. She
lunged and cleared the doorway, catapulting down the stairwell outside. As
Noelle’s feet hit the ground, she looked over her shoulder and saw Margaret had
followed. They ran away as fast as they could.
The forest was the only adequate hiding place nearby and these men,
whoever they were, would be more interested in looting the keep than chasing