Raging Sea by Terri Brisbin Page B

chamber empty. Continuing on and up, she nearly ran into him on the steps as she reached the top. Grabbing onto him, clutching his tunic so she did not fall, Ran looked up and met his eyes.
    His very shocked expression.
    His knowing gaze.

Chapter 9
    S oren took hold of her shoulders so she did not fall backward. He could tell that Ran had not expected him to be coming down as she barreled her way up the stairs. If she had taken note, she would have noticed the way he shook as he held her there. The turquoise color that outlined her rippled, uneven and unusually bright.
    Ran Sveinsdottir had just come out of the sea as an extension of the water and then turned into a woman.
    He was not alone in experiencing the strange change that he had—she had as well. He was part of the storms and she was part of the sea. How this could be, he knew not.
    â€œWe must speak, Soren,” she finally said, breaking the tension of the moment. “Please. I beg you.”
    She never begged. Headstrong and forthright, Ran spoke her mind. The only begging had been during moments of passion when she wanted more from him or when he delayed her pleasure.
    Ran begged him now. He nodded and pointed down to the floor below them. She turned and led the way. Once they stood facing each other, silence filled the space between them. He watched as she struggled with what to say and how to say it. Soren understood that she did not trust him and worried over sharing too much with him.
    Mayhap if he began first, told her the truth now, she would begin to . . . Nay, she would never forgive him. He went on even realizing that.
    â€œI saw you come from the sea,” he admitted quietly to her. “I saw you change from water to the flesh and blood that you are now.” She startled with each admission. He tugged his sleeve up, exposing the mark there. “I, too, am marked.”
    Her gaze moved over his arm and then she lifted hers and pulled her sleeve up until it was uncovered. Two waves burned into her skin; they moved like waves did in the sea. Peaking, falling and rising again. Over and over, they moved as he watched. Ran reached out to touch his mark and hissed when she did.
    â€œLightning?” she asked. “What does it mean?”
    â€œI can call the storm. I can make the winds blow,” he said, lifting his arm and watching as the bolt there flashed and another outside the tower answered. “I can command the lightning.”
    Her green eyes widened at his words. “And I can call the sea.” She shook her head. “But why, Soren? Why us? Why can we do these things?”
    â€œI think my grandfather knew about all of this,” he said. He reached inside his tunic and took out the three parchment sheets. “He left these for me.”
    â€œWhat are they?” she asked, opening one.
    â€œAnder translated it for me. Einar wrote it in Latin, backward, to make it difficult.”
    â€œMore likely he did not wish it to fall into the wrong hands,” Ran said, examining it closely. “So you told Ander about all this?”
    â€œNay,” he explained, walking to her side after retrieving the wooden box from where he’d placed it. “I only gave him the one. No one has seen the others.” Soren knelt then and held out his hand to her.
    Ran knelt and placed the paper carefully on the floor, smoothing it out flat. A frown filled her brow as she studied the words.
    â€œIt tells a story about ancient gods who defeated an evil one and left behind their descendants to protect mankind.” Soren waited as she read the Latin version. “If you lift it to the light, you can read it through from the other side.” She did as he said and shook her head.
    â€œThis is written in Einar’s style. How did he write it backward?” Ran asked.
    â€œMy grandfather had talents I knew not of,” Soren answered. “And knowledge of many things forbidden and