Page 85 of Fang & Fury

Gil sat at a table. Head bowed, he was bent over a sheet of parchment. He wrote slowly, carefully, for each sheet must have been precious.

A red-robed figure looked over his shoulder. Mairead.

Upon seeing them, the chief-sacrificer nodded. “On time, I see. That’s a good start.”

“Good morning.” Gil put down his quill, unfolded his lanky body, and rose to his feet. He pushed aside shaggy brown hair from his eyes, his gaze sweeping over both Kayla and Ailsa with naked interest. “Let’s see this sigil then.” He picked up a clean piece of parchment and pushed it across the table toward Kayla before handing over an ink pot and his quill as well. “I must admit, I’m intrigued.”

Ailsa observed him with interest.

He was a strange man. He’d been curious to meet them the day before, but this morning, he barely spared her a glance. His attention had already settled upon the parchment in front of Kayla, gaze sharpening. His hunger for knowledge seemed to outweigh everything else.

Kayla stepped forward, took the quill Gil handed her, and dipped it into the pot.

Then, bending over the sheet of parchment, she drew quickly.

It began with a knot at the center—a dense twist of interwoven lines, like briar.

From this tangled heart, eight slender lines radiated outward. At the end of each line sat a small, hooked barb.

The hooks all curved inward.

Ailsa watched Kayla draw. There was a hypnotic quality to the tattoo. Every strand stretched outward as if poised to drag something back toward the center.

Kayla finished the final barb and set down the quill.

Silence settled over the alcove, allowing Gil and Mairead to view it.

Ailsa watched their faces.

“I’ve never seen this sigil before,” Mairead murmured. “What about you, Gil?”

The archivist’s gaze never wavered from the drawing as he shook his head. “My studies weren’t the same as yours, Mairead,” he replied after a pause. “Over the past years, I’ve dug through a lot of druidic lore… this one’s new to me.”

“I find it disquieting,” Kayla admitted quietly.

“Mmm.” Mairead pulled a face. “I can see why … those barbs look like claws.”

“Gregor tattooed this on the inner arm of every Circines warrior,” Ailsa told her. “It binds them to Niall, who wears the same tattoo … but larger … in the same spot.”

Mairead looked up. “Really?”

Ailsa nodded before glancing back down at Kayla’s unsettling drawing. “Surely, killing him will break the hold he has on them?”

“It’s likely to,” the druid replied. “Although I’d like to know what we’re dealing with here.”

“Makes sense,” Gil agreed. “You don’t want any nasty surprises on the field of battle.”

“Maybe Gregor invented it,” Kayla suggested.

Mairead shot her an arch look. “He wouldn’t have the skill … no one makes up designs this complex.”

“Symbols were always Gregor’s strength when we trained together,” Kayla shot back. “Don’t you remember?”

Mairead considered this for a few moments before shaking her head. “I just remember him being an arrogant arse.”

Kayla snorted. “Aye, that hasn’t changed.”

The two women shared a look before Mairead gestured then to where a thick leather-bound volume sat on the edge of the table. “I’ve brought my book of tattoo lore up here … I’d wager that sigil’s in it somewhere.”