Viking Conspiracy

by S. T. Bende

  “Whoa,” I whispered.

  Erik slipped his hand around my lower back. All thoughts of fairy lights disappeared as his palm slipped lower to cup my butt. My breath hitched when he hiked me against him, pulling my hips into his and driving all cohesive thought from my mind. All but three things were wiped from my awareness: Erik’s hand on my butt, the intensity in his eyes, and the growing heat building just below my navel. There was a very strong possibility I might actually combust.

  “Saga.” Erik rested his forehead against mine. “I know what you’ve given up to be here—the life you left behind, the family you’ve unfairly lost. In a perfect world, I’d have fixed the dagger so you had a choice in whether or not you stayed. And I swear to you, one day I will. But until then, I’m grateful for every moment we have together. How or why the gods decided to share you with me, I’ll never fully understand. But I am thankful beyond measure.”

  “Erik.” I reached up to stroke his cheek, tangling my fingertips through the coarse fibers of his beard.

  “You were brought here to help lead this tribe, but you’ve already done so much more than that. You’ve guided me back to a path I was walking away from. I never wanted to lead Valkyris—I’ve always been pulled beyond its borders—drawn away by the lure of lands unexplored, adventures unseen. But you, Saga.” Erik closed his eyes. “You are my greatest adventure. Being with you, teaching you of our life, seeing all of this through your eyes . . . it’s given me a fresh perspective on not only our world, but my purpose within it. Finally, after all these years, I’m where I’m meant to be . . . with the person I’m meant to be with.”

  My heart thundered against my ribcage as Erik brought his lips to mine. He claimed my mouth in a slow, deliberate kiss that left my pulse racing and all remaining blood dive-bombing due south. He slipped my bottom lip between his teeth, raking the sensitive skin as he pulled back. My head dipped forward as he broke contact, a whimper escaping my throat.

  Why? God, why are we not kissing right now?

  “Saga,” he said.

  “Mmm?” I dragged my eyelids open.

  Erik brought his hand to my face, cupping my cheek in his massive palm as he stared straight into my soul. A flicker of vulnerability crossed his stoic, angular features as he murmured three absolutely perfect words. “I love you.”

  And just like that, my world settled into place. Erik Halvarsson, heir to the most-feared tribe in all of Vikingdom, loved me. Me—a girl from another country; another time; another everything. It defied all logic, all sense of reason, except that it didn’t. When I was with Erik, things just made sense—not the external things, like how the hell I’d managed to travel a thousand years into my past, or how I was going to survive an attack by a vitriolic Viking clan . . . or several vitriolic Viking clans . . . but things that mattered somehow fell into place when we were together. My heart was full, my worries ebbed, and my entire being felt centered. When I was with Erik, I was just . . . home.

  It was impossible. It was illogical. But it was.

  I stared into the eyes that in the unlikeliest of circumstances had somehow become my world. And I stood on tiptoe so my lips brushed against Erik’s as I whispered, “I love you too.”

  Heat flared in those sky-blue depths, and Erik’s hand pressed tighter on the small of my back. He slid the other hand around the back of my head, crushing my mouth against his as he claimed me in a kiss so fierce, my feet lifted right off the ground. Erik slid his hand along the backs of my legs so I was cradled in his arms. I wound my fingers through his silky blond mane, pulling his head even closer. A thousand unspoken truths passed between us as our kisses intensified, the connection between us growing stronger with each passing moment. Erik had come to mean more to me than he had any right to, given his position in my life was more than likely temporary. And yet the very real likelihood of losing him made my feelings more urgent—my need to fully inhabit this moment even more compelling.

  I never wanted this kiss to end.

  When we finally pulled apart, my heart raced, my breath came in short gasps, and I was pretty sure my carefully crafted curls were the hottest of messes. Erik looked at me with hooded eyes, his own hair tousled and his perfect lips swollen from our kisses. It took everything I had not to club him over the head and drag him back to my room right then and there. But duty called.

  As it always did.

  “We need to close the dancing,” Erik said. “I don’t want to, but . . .”

  “I understand.” I drew a shaky breath. “You go ahead. Have fun.”

  Erik frowned. “I said we.”

  “And I said ‘go ahead.’”

  One corner of Erik’s mouth tugged up. “Saga.”

  “Erik . . .”

  “You’re my partner in all things. Including dancing.”

  I reached up to smooth his hair. “Any chance I can delegate that one?”

  “No.” Erik lowered my feet to the ground. I held tight to his arms as I regained my balance. “But I promise to cue you. And if you truly loathe it, I won’t make you dance again until our midsummer celebration.”

  “Promise?” I held up my pinky.

  Erik stared at it. “Why are you pointing your finger in the air?”

  “It’s how we make oaths where I come from.” Among grade-school girls, anyway.

  “Oh.” Erik raised his own pinky. “I promise.”

  “No, we hook them together and shake them. Like this.” I extracted a pinky promise, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at the sight of my Viking beau pledging his fealty with his pinky.

  “Now you’ll dance with me?” Erik asked.

  “I suppose.” I wound my arm through his and allowed him to lead me through the twinkling arches and into the castle.

  Back in the ballroom, things were pretty much as we’d left them—the floor was filled with dancers, including a blissed-out looking Helene spinning circles around Zaan—whose expression clearly indicated he did not realize the magnitude of what he’d just gotten himself into. Katrin and Vidia chatted happily in front of one of the windows. And at a nearby table, Axel stood before an irritated-looking Ingrid. From the animated way he moved his hands, he seemed to be trying to convince her of something. With a hearty eye roll, she begrudgingly stood, placed her hand in his, and allowed him to lead her to the floor. I nudged Erik with my elbow and whispered, “Look.”

  His eyes followed my sight line, and he chuckled at the sight of Ingrid and Axel, who’d taken their dominance struggle to the dance floor. “They’re both trying to lead.”

  “Yup.” I grinned. “My money’s on Ingrid.”

  “No way. Axel’s too stubborn to submit to a woman.”

  “And Ingrid’s too independent to bow to a man.” I rested my head on Erik’s shoulder. “This should be good.”

  “Mmm.” Erik’s lips brushed the top of my head. “Come, min kjære. Let’s give them their privacy.”

  “They’re at a ball,” I pointed out.

  “Yes, but nobody likes to be stared at. And besides, you owe me one last dance.”

  I groaned. “Then that’s it. Until summer.”

  “If you wish it, yes.” Erik winked.

  “Fine.” I let Erik lead me onto the dance floor. He twirled me in a slow circle before falling into step with the rest of the revelers. I let my eyes scan the room, taking in the laughter, dancing, and overall joy. Darkness crept toward Valkyris, but in this moment I was safe and happy, dancing the night away in an enchanted ballroom.

  It was a memory I’d never forget.

  Chapter 10

  AFTER THE BALL, THINGS on Valkyris quickly returned to normal—normal for an island in the throes of preparing for attack, that was. My insanely exhausting class schedule resumed first thing Monday morning, and it took a full two weeks before I was able to get through my two—sometimes three—a-day workouts without limping. By the middle of February, I was settled enough in my new routine. There had been no new updates from
Clan Bjorn, but I knew Freia and Halvar had appropriated troops around our borders and increased airborne watches not only for the island, but throughout the northern territories. If something was coming for us, we’d most definitely have a heads-up. Meanwhile, Erik and Axel worked with me whenever I wasn’t in class. When Bjorn struck, I would be able to protect myself . . . and my tribe.

  One February morning I lay in bed, mentally girding myself for the frosty fun of sports day. A pert knock on my door forced my head from the pillow. Seriously?

  “Saga? You busy?” Helene called.

  “You know the sun just rose, like, a minute ago. Right?” I yelled.

  “The sun doesn’t rise early in the winter!” she yelled back. “Open the door, lazy!”

  “Fine.” I threw my comforter to the side, slid my feet into the slippers I kept by my bed, and shuffled groggily to my door. I flung it open with an unceremonious, “What?”

  “Ooh. Somebody woke up grumpy.” Helene skipped past me and drew open my curtains. “There. That’s better.”

  “Do you ever sleep in?” I closed the door and shuffled to the sofa, flopping onto its thick cushions and closing my eyes.

  “I’ll sleep when I’m dead. Besides, I have big news for you,” Helene trilled. “The prophets have asked for a meeting.”

  “A meeting of what?”

  “A meeting with you, silly. They’ve just received a vision that involves you, and they’ve summoned you to the temple.”

  I opened my eyes to see Helene bouncing on her toes. “A vision? Isn’t it bad luck to look into your future?”

  “Why would it be bad luck?” Helene’s brow furrowed. “When we know what’s coming, we can better prepare for it. Why else would the gods reveal things to us?”

  “Well . . .” I bit the inside of my cheek. “I think it’s more important to live in the present. Fully embrace each moment. Carpe diem, you know?”

  “What?”

  Right. Context. “Never mind.” I sat up. “So, what happens when the prophets have a vision about you?”

  “They summon you to the temple and reveal what they’ve seen. Just so you know, they’re not so big on explanations, so take what you get and don’t get upset. After that, what you do with the information is between you and the gods . . . and sometimes the chieftess.”

  “Freia? Does she go to these meetings too?”

  “If the prophesy affects the tribe, she does. I don’t know if she’s going to be at yours—I just bumped into Audhild in the dining hall this morning, and she asked me to tell you.”

  “Audhild.” I mentally scrolled through the scores of new faces I’d met over the past few months. “Isn’t she that girl in your healing arts program?”

  “Ja, but she’s taking Visions this term, and I guess the seers held an early meditation this morning.”

  “On a Saturday?”

  Helene placed her hands on her hips. “Fortune favors the prepared, Saga.”

  “Right.” I covered my yawn with my hand. “So, when am I supposed to be in the temple? Wait, is that the same as the church?”

  “No. The temple’s in the forest. Do you still have your map?”

  I yawned again. “Top drawer of my desk, I think.”

  Helene bounced across the room, retrieved the parchment from my desk, and plopped onto the sofa beside me. “It’s here.” She pointed to a figure marked simply “building.”

  So that’s what that is.

  “I can walk you there,” she offered.

  “When do they want me?”

  “Now.”

  “What? Why? In God’s name, why? I haven’t even had breakfast yet!”

  “It’s not our fault you sleep so late.”

  “It is maybe seven thirty in the morning!” I groaned. “Fine. Give me ten minutes and I’ll meet you outside your room.”

  “I’ll grab you some food for the walk over.” Helene bounded cheerfully to my door and let herself out.

  One day. Was it too much to ask to sleep past eight for one freaking day?

  Yes. Yes, it was.

  Welcome to Vikingdom.

  Twenty minutes later, Helene and I stood in the forest in front of a single-story wooden building. At least, the front door was wooden—the rest was almost entirely encased in snow-covered turf. Grass grew up the sides of the structure, climbing its walls and covering its roof in a blanket of green and white. The thick planks of the door were covered in elaborate ironwork, and a circle was carved just below the structure’s peak—a small window that I presumed existed to let air circulate. The whole thing seemed to be lifted straight from a fairy-tale. I’d never seen anything like it.

  I turned to Helene. “Do we knock or do they already know we’re here because they’re psychic, or . . . oh. Hi.”

  I snapped my mouth shut as a sober-looking woman stepped from the temple. Her long white robe swished around her bare feet as she held the door open and beckoned me inside. “You stay outside,” she admonished Helene. “The prophesy is for Saga alone.”

  “I know.” Helene curtsied. “I just wanted to make sure she found the temple. See you, Saga!”

  I froze at Helene’s jaunty wave. “You’re leaving?”

  “You can find your way back,” she assured me. “Just follow the sound of leikar. We’ll try to hold the ski relays until you’re done.”

  Perfect.

  “Thanks for walking me,” I called.

  “Any time.”

  Helene’s footsteps crunched on the snow. Once she’d disappeared into the trees, I turned and followed the prophet into the temple.

  Two more white-clad women sat on pillows on the floor. They stoked a small fire that emitted a slightly sweet scent—was it sage? Olivia had gone through a phase where she was into incense and crystals. I’d never been sure what she was burning, but this definitely smelled familiar.

  “Um . . . hi.” I stamped the snow off my boots before stepping onto the wooden floorboards. “I’m Saga.”

  “Velkommen, my sister.” The standing woman held out her arm. “Please sit by the fire.”

  “Do you want me to take off my shoes, or . . .?”

  “Do what makes you comfortable.” The woman didn’t crack a smile. She must have been friends with my inter-tribal relations teacher.

  “Oh. Okay.” I quickly read the room. Since everyone else was barefoot, I removed my boots and cloak before sitting next to Unsmiley Two and Unsmiley Three.

  The first prophet sat beside me so we formed a little circle. The three women closed their eyes and began to chant in a guttural language my internal translator must not have understood. When the dagger had dragged me into the past, it had flipped some switch in my head that allowed me to both speak and understand Vikingese. But the version of Norwegian these ladies spoke remained incomprehensible. As their voices grew more heated, and they began to wave their hands, my stomach wound itself into knots. What was going on?

  After what felt like an eternity, the ladies pressed their palms together and opened their eyes. The first prophet held her hands over the smoke and waved its wisps toward her face, seemingly dousing herself in its scent. Then she rested her palms face-up on her lap, parted her lips, and spoke in a hushed tone. “Saga Skånstad, daughter of Valkyris. The gods have blessed you with the gifts of strength, compassion, and sight.”

  I exhaled heavily. So far, so good.

  “They have brought you to our people so that you may immortalize our world,” the prophet continued. “But have caution, for in doing so you may also bring about its end.”

  Wait. What?

  “What does that mean?” I whispered.

  She repeated her words. “The gods have brought you to us so that you may immortalize our world. But have caution, for in doing so you may also bring about its end.”

  Was she in a trance? Was I going to get any answers?

  I leaned forward. “Listen, I’m new to this. And I’m not trying to disrespect your traditions or your process or anything.
But you can’t just tell me I might end the world without giving me some kind of context or explanation or . . .”

  The woman stared blankly at me.

  “Nothing?” I pressed.

  “Go in peace, sister Saga.” The second prophet bowed her head. “May the gods bring you favor through all of your days.”

  That was it? I was dismissed?

  “Can’t you tell me anything more?” I pleaded. “I love your world. I want to build it up, not destroy it!”

  My outcry was met with three serene stares.

  “Go in peace,” the third prophet reiterated. “Bring glory and honor to the gods.”

  Seriously? Nothing?

  My heart sank as the women’s eyes shuttered closed. That was all I was getting. Immortalize, and try not to destroy. That was my prophesy. It was the reason the dagger had brought me to Valkyris.

  And I had no idea what it meant.

  A weight settled on my chest as I stared at the three women, willing them to open their eyes and tell me what the hell that prophesy meant. How was I to immortalize their world? What did I need to be careful of? How might I bring about its end?

  Help!

  Either I seriously sucked at the whole clairvoyant thing or my silent message had been received and denied. The women sat calmly, their hands on their knees as I tumbled down the abyss of mental turmoil. After all the months of study, and training, and learning to ride dragons and wield swords and shoot arrows . . . after everything Erik and I had worked for, and everything we planned to fight against . . . there was a chance I might destroy this amazing civilization his parents had literally built from the ground up.

  And nobody was going to tell me how?

  I bit down on the inside of my cheek, the pain distracting me from emotions I didn’t want to feel. Then I gathered up my boots and cloak and braced myself for the cold. When I was dressed, I paused with my hand on the doorknob.

  “Please,” I begged. “Isn’t there anything else you can tell me?”

  The first prophet opened her eyes and pinned me with her stare. “Ours is simply to relay the gods’ message. What you choose to do with your fate is up to you.”