by M. E. Sháen
What would it be like to return to my homeland? I trusted Halfdan to achieve the goal set before him. I would see him as jarl. And, one day, as a king.
I would watch and wait. We must deal with Jarl Thorsson before anything else. He distrusted Halfdan before. I was certain that grew into outright hatred.
While the brothers drank, I watched the jarl. He did not smile, nor did he partake in the rowdy celebration of Halfdan’s victory. I saw him turn to speak with his closest ally among all men more than once.
What did he have to say that was so important he could not wait for the privacy of his own home? I very much wanted the answer to that question.
“Vixen.” Halfdan’s mead-laden breath tickled my neck when he rested his chin on my shoulder. “What do you see?”
As if he made words of endearment, I leaned in and smiled.
“Thorsson seems keen to share his mind with Svein. Why is that, do you think?”
He smiled against me. “Perhaps things did not go to plan.”
“I suspect not. Did he think that coward could best you?”
“He likely knew better and hoped to turn the tides with false accusations against me.”
“And it did not work. What does he plan now?”
“By the looks of it, nothing good. Would you say?”
I nodded. “Where are Bjorn and Frida?”
“With Orlaith tonight. I can send Erick or Eowils if it worries you?”
I nodded as my gaze followed Svein out of the mead hall. “I would feel better for it.”
“I trust your instincts, vixen. Very well.”
He turned to speak with them. Erick rose and left the hall at the sort of ambling pace I associated with men in their cups.
Not long after, Thorsson made his way to where we sat.
Halfdan offered him a toothy, somewhat uneven smile. “Welcome jarl Thorsson. Elen, get the jarl a drink.”
I snagged a cup and the mead and poured for the man.
“Your farm is ready for winter?”
Halfdan nodded. “We are, jarl. There is enough to survive.”
Though he looked anything but pleased at the prospect, Thorsson gave my husband a curt nod.
“And you, Eowils?”
“I will survive.”
Thorsson took a drink. “I have seen you with Signy of late, Eowils. Will you follow your brother to wed?”
This came as a surprise to me. Signy was widowed in a fishing accident the year before. Like Orlaith, she seemed content not to wed right away.
Eowils, I knew, lost his wife to sickness. He seemed just as content not to wed again. Here was yet another side to him I did not know.
Eowils grunted something I assumed meant he did not mean to wed, and Thorsson laughed.
He settled on the bench across from us. “Signy would make a good wife to you. She is young yet and without children.”
“One day,” was all Eowils would say to that.
“Halfdan, when the summer comes next, I expect you to raid for me. Is it agreeable or do you seek higher?”
Halfdan seemed to spread out to take more space. He let one arm drop across my shoulders. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought him drunk when he gave another wide smile.
“My child will arrive. Should you want me after that, I will go.”
“Good. Good.” He spared me a glance. “A son or daughter?”
I shook my head. “I cannot see the future, jarl Thorsson.”
“Some women claim to know which before their time.”
I laughed. With a lilt in my voice, I replied, “I am not one of those women, jarl Thorsson. It will be as the gods want it.”
“Good. Bring Halfdan another healthy child into the world so that he may lead my men in the summer raids.”
“What of Beirk’s wife?”
Thorsson turned his attention back to Halfdan. “She will return to her family.”
“They struggled last winter. Will they be all right?”
Thorsson lifted one shoulder. “If the gods will it.”
We would send them supplies. I would instruct our thralls to do so when we returned home. The man’s answer left me with no question he would not help them come deep winter when the snows fell.
“What thoughts have you on the last raid?”
Halfdan sat forward, all pretense of drunkenness gone. “Last raid this season?” He gestured toward the door. “Already snow flies. The seas are far too stormy to travel.”
“Down the coast?”
“If it were not too far, perhaps.” His eyes glimmered brightly. “Where do you propose?”
“Hamburg.”
Halfdan considered this a long moment. It hardly seemed wise to me to take the boats and go when winter left the seas choppy and dangerous. Was this yet another way Thorsson sought to destroy Halfdan?
So long as we remained in the man’s presence, I could say nothing. I meant to have my say later though.
Then Halfdan was agreeing with Thorsson. They had drinks, made plans, and it left me to stew in silence.
It was not until we were buried beneath the furs of our bed that I had the chance to speak my mind.
Halfdan, now well and truly drunk, was all but unconscious next to me.
“Husband, tell me something.”
“Not now, vixen. I am weary.”
I shoved against his shoulder. “You are drunk. Tell me why you agreed to a raid when the snows come?”
He let out a long breath. “Elen, do you believe me to be a fool?”
“Yes.”
He laughed at that. “Thorsson will gain nothing by the death of the men who raid Hamburg.”
“Except your death, perhaps?”
He rolled to face me. “You worry?”
“Yes. You will leave me here alone and take to the seas in winter. It seems foolish to me.”
“Come wife, tomorrow I will draw you a map and you will see. It is not so far to Hamburg and we will remain near the shore for most of the voyage.”
Though his words did little to mollify me, I had to leave it at that. His eyes shut as he drew me against himself. He was asleep almost before I settled in his embrace.
I must have dozed, for the next thing I knew, I woke to the sound of many men banging their swords on shields in our yard.
Halfdan was already up and tying his belt around his tunic.
“Take the children and go to Eowils. He must come and help.”
I nodded.
“Halfdan Hringrson!”
He nodded at me. “Go. Now.”
I gathered the children as he went outside.
I heard him talking, but his words meant nothing to me in my panic. I forced Bjorn and Frida before me as we crept out of the house and into the dark.
I had no time to take the horse, so we fled through the fields as silently as we could.
Eowils was easy to awaken with a few hammering blows to his door. He let us in without hesitation, though he looked as though the drink yet flowed through him.
“Our farm is under attack.”
It was enough for him. He gathered up weapons, instructed the children to remain there, and left.
Eowils had no thralls, so it fell to me to calm the children and get them into his musty-smelling bed.
That done, I left them where they were and retraced my steps back to our farm.
I could see that both men held their own against numbers I would have made to be too many. It was apparent how they worked together without needing to waste breath on speech.
I slipped past them and into the house. I grabbed the only suitable weapon I saw, one of Halfdan’s axes.
Back outside, I could see the tide changed. Halfdan and Eowils were back-to-back now, engaged with four men. Another sidled toward them from the side.
I hefted the axe and murmured a prayer to Odin, then let fly. The axe made a single end-over-end turn and embedded itself in the man’s back.
He howled and fell forward and didn�
�t move again.
It gave the brothers enough time to dispatch the men who attacked them.
After what felt like hours, but was more like minutes, there were only two standing.
Halfdan toppled to the ground with a groan, and I ran to him.
“You are hurt?”
He shook his head at me. “Where is Bjorn? Frida?”
“Eowils’ home. I left them in bed.”
As if summoned, he too toppled with a thud. “By the gods, brother.”
“Get them, Elen. I would not have them alone.”
“Yes.” I took stock of them, found they had only minor injuries. I left only after I was certain they would not die.
The trek back to Eowils’ gave me time to think about the attack. The men knew Halfdan, knew his name and called him out. Surely this was no uncoordinated attack on the farm. But was it Beirk’s wife’s kin or Thorsson who did it?
I’d counted seven bodies strewn in our yard. Not so many that the brothers couldn’t handle, but more than enough to murder a small family with one man skilled at arms.
It would bear looking into later. Right now, Halfdan and Eowils needed to rest.
THE END
Book One of the Viking Kind Series
Afterward
Dear Reader,
Are you in need of more Vikings and their warrior women? Curious about what happens with Elen and Halfdan, Eowils, and more? Don’t worry, there’s more!
Book Two in the Viking Kind series - Raven’s Revenge picks up where In Thrall to the Viking leaves off. The focus is on Eowils and the woman who just might be more powerful than him.
If you want to stay in touch and know when my next book in the series is to be released, sign up for updates at https://www.meshaen.com
Skål!
Meara Sháen
Raven's Revenge Excerpt
Halfdan pushed Eowils forward. “Go. You must.”
Eowils dug in his heels and pushed back against his brother. “Why should I do it?” He shook his head.
“Because,” Halfdan grunted as he pushed once more. “You are older.”
Eowils spun away from the shove and he stumbled past. “As eldest, I say you go, Halfdan. Go.”
“I will not.”
The brothers stood face to face, each breathing heavier for the shoving match.
“Then we are at an impasse.”
“What if it’s alive?”
Eowils shrugged. “Death will come soon enough.”
With that, he tried to stalk away. Halfdan caught him by the arm and turned him back.
“You mean to leave?”
“Yes.”
Halfdan’s eyes grew wider. “Is it a good idea? What if,” he hesitated. “It might be a beast instead of a man.”
Eowils laughed. “It will attack us. Or, you can find out.”
Halfdan considered the options.
Eowils still dripped blood from a cut on his cheek. He appeared indifferent about the vision, the person, whatever they’d seen scuttle away from the conflict and into the shallow cave over the hillside.
His gaze drifted toward the slope, and Halfdan knew he was not as nonchalant as he made out.
“Come with me.”
“You are frightened?” Eowils offered a sneer.
“Not scared,” he countered. “Not more than you, at any rate.”
Now Eowils’s frown changed into a scowl. “I am not afraid of something that escaped the fighting.”
“We will see to it together.”
And with that, Halfdan yanked Eowils a final time. With a groan, he followed, palm on his axe handle.
“It resembled a man,”
“It looked like a youth,” Eowils corrected. “A new-minted warrior that has not the heart for battle.”
Halfdan glanced at Eowils. “It matters?”
Eowils shrugged, feigning indifference. “What if it were Bjorn?”
Halfdan shook his head. “Too big for a child his age.”
“I am just asking, what if?”
“Foster?”
Eowils smirked.
Halfdan observed his older brother for a clue what he thought. The man long ago learned how to hide thoughts.
“You would?”
Eowils grunted in reply.
“Elen would not have it,”
Eowils hesitated at the hilltop, swung his gaze to Halfdan. “Then I will.”
Agreed, they headed to the entrance to the cave.
“It is dark,”
Eowils shrugged. “I see the edge of a cloak.”
He disappeared into the darkness. There was a scuffle. A grunt and a hiss of pain from Eowils. Halfdan could hear cursing from someone else as he returned, a flailing body across his shoulder.
He dropped the body at Halfdan’s feet and crossed his arms and frowned at his brother.
“Bitch.”
Halfdan blinked in surprise at the fresh cut on Eowils’s cheek. “Bitch?”
Halfdan toed the mess of fabric, and it sat up to scowl at them.
Dirty. That was Halfdan’s first impression. Dirty, wild, and not a man at all. Her dress had torn at the neck and exposed her breasts.
“What are you supposed to be?” He asked. Surprise robbed him of any other words.
Eowils wiped his face, shook his head at the blood on his fingers. “Give me the knife.”
She turned her gaze from Halfdan to Eowils and lifted her lip.
“Fuck you.” She snarled as he tossed her over his shoulder once more.
“Have Elen find this bitch better clothes.”
Halfdan blinked as Eowils turned away. She cursed Eowils nonstop as he carried her up the hill.
He trailed behind Eowils, curious what his brother intended for the filthy woman who continued to fight him.
Eowils marched to the lake and dropped her into the frigid water. He hopped from the deck to grasp her arm before she could escape.
She sputtered at him, tugged to get free, but Eowils was far stronger and held her by the arm as she wore herself out in the struggle.
“What is your name?”
“Fuck you.”
He sighed. “I will call you Piglet.”
She shot him a look of pure venom, and he smiled.
Halfdan turned toward the house where Elen and Frida stood on the porch.
“Who is she?” Elen asked at his approach.
“She has not said. She needs clothes.”
She eyed him for a moment, then nodded. “Frida, bring a dress, one of yours perhaps.”
The girl went into the house.
“Does he know what he’s doing?”
Halfdan shook his head. “No.”
She smiled at him. “Do you?”
“Asking for trouble.”
“It seems,” she agreed.
They watched Eowils dunk the woman beneath the water, heard her sputter yet more curses at him when she surfaced.
Elen sighed. “Can none of Hringr’s sons abide a woman lest she fight them, or is it just you two?”
Halfdan slipped his arm around her. “You take her the dress. Perhaps she might talk to you.”
“Mmhm,”
But Elen did. Halfdan watched from the porch as she walked to the pier.
“Girl, stop struggling. He will hurt you.”
The girl shot her a look of barely contained fury. “He may try.”
She inclined her head. “He will succeed. See how much larger he is than you?”
The girl hesitated a fraction as if the very idea hadn’t occurred to her. “It means I must dig a larger hole when he is dead.”
Elen laughed at his consternation. “Have a care, Eowils. This one means to send you to the gods.”
He shook his head. “Not this day.”
A mistake. She caught the movement Eowils missed when his attention diverted. The woman drew into him instead of away and sank her teeth into his bicep.
He cursed and shoved her in the forehead, but she refused to
let go. With another curse, he punched her in the temple and she dropped like a stone.
He put his hand on the bloody bite mark on his arm. “Odin’s beard, that bitch can fight.”
“She will drown,”
With a sigh, Eowils bent down and lifted the unconscious woman, lest she drown in the lake. “Might be better,” he mumbled.
“She can change into this when she wakes.”
Eowils dropped her onto the shore. Water dribbled out of her mouth and nose. He sat next to her.
Also by M.E. Sháen
Viking Kind Series
In Thrall to the Viking
Raven’s Revenge
To Marry a Viking – coming soon
Standalones
Purity
Loki and Liv (writing as Signy Sigurdson)
A Wolf of White (writing as Signy Sigurdson)
Works of Non-Fiction
Materia Medica - Herbal journal
Ready, Set, Reset! - Self Help
Altar to Zap! A Pagan Primer - PreK - Kindergarten Activity Workbook
Magical Me A Pagan Child's Book of Shadows
Acknowledgments
Thank you to:
M. Vignali, my cover designer.
S. Sims, my developmental editor and beta reader.
Beta readers extraordinaire, Lori, Stephanie, and Alexandria.
The beautiful Viking Kind members who cheer each and every battle of love and war!
My writing crew, the most amazing women I could ever be lucky enough to have supporting me and writing alongside me.
And finally, to my family who is so supportive and excited for everything I’ve done and will do in the future.
About M.E. Sháen
Meara hails from Ohio and started writing stories at a very early age. A fascination with mythology and the printed word grew into the characters that populate her worlds and provide her with their stories to tell.