by S. T. Bende
“So, you just took off?” Erik ground out the words. “Left the rest of us to deal with our family’s loss, and try to hold the tribe together?”
“Seems like you managed just fine in my absence.”
Erik and his brother squared off in the snow. The hatred firing between them was so intense, I worried they were about to come to blows. And I was pretty sure whose side the dragon would take.
Fix this, Saga! Before Erik gets eaten . . . or charred.
I skied in front of Erik, shielding him from both Raynor and the dragon. And I blurted the only thing I could think of. “Raynor, you said there was a development. What is it?”
Raynor’s eyes narrowed. “You need a woman to fight your battles for you, Erik?”
“What we all need,” I said loudly, “is to make sure Valkyris is safe. If you have an update for us, please tell us so we can get to the solution already.”
Raynor’s nostrils flared. “Fine. Ragnar and Bjorn have united and are amassing an army.”
“We know that,” Erik said.
Not helping.
“Well, do you know that teams of warriors are currently canvassing Norway, trying to locate Valkyris?”
I sucked in air through my teeth. “Are you sure?”
“We knew they would be,” Erik said. “It’s why we’ve increased our protections. Is this all you have for us?”
Raynor’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose it is. Unless you’re interested in hearing the price they’re offering to anyone who gives them information leading to the location of this island.”
Erik skied forward so we stood side by side. “What?”
“The price Bjorn is offering,” Raynor drawled. “It’s very substantial.”
“How substantial?” Erik asked.
“In addition to a small fortune in gold, Bjorn is offering a leadership position to the person who leads them to the island.”
Skit.
“Has anyone taken them up on their offer?” I asked.
Raynor rolled his eyes. “Is this island currently being invaded by warriors who clearly value training more than taking a ski day?”
Erik glowered beside me.
“Is anyone considering their offer?” I rephrased.
“Not that I know of. But it is a very attractive combination. Money and power?” Raynor clucked his tongue. “That will be very hard to turn down.”
I glanced over at Erik. Was his brother threatening us?
Erik pulled his shoulders back. “Only a traitor would sell out their tribe.”
“A traitor,” Raynor said slowly. “Or a survivor.”
“What the hell does that mean?” I blurted.
“What do you think it means?” Raynor turned his hate-filled eyes on me. “You should know by now that nobody wants to be on the losing side of war.”
“Including you?” I challenged.
Raynor’s silence was all the answer I needed.
“I won’t pay for your loyalty,” Erik warned.
“I didn’t ask you to.” Distaste flared in Raynor’s eyes.
Huh?
“But Valkyris is being threatened from the inside,” Erik continued. “We know of the spy. If it turns out to be you, our mother’s heart will break for a second time. Would you really do that to her?”
Raynor’s hands balled into fists. “I’m the least of your worries, brother. War is coming, whether to these shores or on the mainland, I don’t yet know. But when it does . . . when you willingly lay down the lives of your men, your family, I hope you can tell yourself she was worth it.”
He spat the last words at me as if they were a curse. Then he stormed to his dragon, climbed on its back, and soared into the air. I didn’t take my eyes off them until they’d crested the mountain and shrunk to no more than a tiny red speck in the sky.
My God. This is all my fault.
When I finally lowered my head, Erik was staring at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Come here, min kjære.” He held out his arms.
I sidestepped in my skis until I was close enough to rest my cheek on his chest. He dropped his poles, wrapped his arms around me and held tight.
“Don’t listen to Raynor,” he said quietly.
“How can I not? Lars wants me. If I weren’t here, none of this would be happening.”
“That’s absolutely untrue.” Erik’s chin bobbed atop my head as he spoke. “This conflict with Bjorn has been years in the making. They’ve never wanted to be the second-most powerful tribe—it has always been their plan to take us down and usurp our title.”
“Maybe, but—”
“But nothing.” Erik pulled back so he could look into my eyes. “My conflict with Lars is practically as old as we are—his father taught him to hate our tribe, and by default, my family. I’ve kept him in check of late, but we were always going to come to blows. Whether you’d landed on his shores or not.”
I let my head drop to my chest. “Why couldn’t I have landed in another tribe? Maybe then all of this would—”
“No, Saga.” Erik lifted my chin with two fingers. “This was always going to play out. I’ve known since the prophets delivered my prophecy.”
Wait. What?
“What did they say?” I whispered.
“That I was fated to lead our tribe to dominance . . . but in the process, destroy much of our world.”
My throat caught. “You’re going to destroy the world too? God, what are we even doing together?”
Erik smiled sadly. “This is the way of our world. For one tribe to rise, another must fall. I believe in Valkyris—in what we do and in what we can offer. But in no way have I ever wanted to destroy any part of this world. I’ve always hoped I could live out my days in relative peace, opening Valkyris’ doors to those who share our values and shutting out the rest. But I see that isn’t possible—not so long as Bjorn is in power. They must be taken down, Saga. It’s the only way we’ll be free to live as we wish.”
“And your brother?” I hedged.
Erik closed his eyes. “I will take care of my brother. He is my burden, not yours.”
“Hey.” I reached up to touch his cheek. “We’re a team, remember?”
“I do.” He turned his face to kiss my hand. “But you don’t need to deal with him. I’ll speak to my parents. If Raynor is to be managed, they are the best parties to do so.”
Fair enough.
Erik tilted his head. “You’re shivering.”
“I’m cold,” I admitted. Either that or my nerves had finally caught up to me.
“Come. Let’s go back to the castle and warm up. Are you all right to ski, or would you prefer we walk?”
“I don’t think we could walk in this.” I jabbed my pole into the snow. “It’s still too fresh. Besides, I like skiing.”
“Very well then. You lead the way.” Erik released me and held out an arm, gesturing in the direction from which we’d come. Then he picked up his poles and gave a slight nod.
I led us home, around the fallen tree branches and through the darkening forest. As we covered ground, I vowed to make myself as useful as possible until . . . well, until things played out, one way or another. I would train, strategize, craft crossbows—whatever it took to make myself an asset to Erik and our tribe. And when the time came to fight, I would do so at Erik’s side, his equal in every conceivable way.
And I’d pray that everyone I loved would be okay.
Chapter 20
THE NEXT DAY, ERIK and I met in the woodshop. I’d brought the crossbow schematic, and he’d brought hands that had actually wielded a saw without drawing blood and getting kicked out of junior high woodshop—sorry again, Mr. Mac!—so between the two of us, we should have been set.
Except that neither of us had actually built a crossbow before. And, on closer inspection, the schematic was really complicated.
“It says the first thing we’re supposed to do is measure the stock—so pick a piece of wood and hold it up
on your shoulder, like you’re firing a . . .” Not that. Guns don’t exist here, remember? “Well, just hold it up to my shoulder. We’ll measure this first one to me.”
“Okay.” Erik chose a mid-sized piece of wood from the pile. He passed it to me, and I held it up, using my thumbnail to mark off a divot.
“Cut it here.” I handed it back.
Erik carried the wood to one of the shop tables, where he’d laid out an array of cutting tools. He sawed off the end, and glanced back at me. “What’s next?”
I spread the schematic out on the table, and studied it.
“We need to create a hole for the trigger.” I picked up the stock, then handed it back to Erik. “Right here. About a finger’s length, and a thumbnail’s width, I think?”
Erik used one of the smaller saws to cut a rectangle into the wood. He popped it out, then carved a groove across the rectangle for the string, and another across the stock length-wise for the bolt. After securing a piece of wood as a grip at the end of the stock, he set to work crafting the bow. He secured the bow to the stock, strung it, and stepped back to admire his handiwork. The crossbow had taken its T-shape, and now all it needed was a trigger.
“This is interesting.” Erik lifted the weapon and studied it. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Hopefully, Bjorn won’t have seen anything like it, either. Katrin and I didn’t share this schematic with the disseminators—and we didn’t include it in our report, either.”
“Why’s that?” Erik turned the bow over and squinted down the wood.
“Because we still don’t know who’s leaking Valkryis’ information,” I reminded him.
“And we need every advantage we can get,” Katrin piped up. Erik and I turned around to find her standing in the doorway, a plate of lefse in one hand and a stack of parchment in the other.
“Hey!” I grinned. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought you guys might need a snack.” She lifted the plate. “And I figured if you’re as abysmal at woodworking as you claim to be, Erik would be doing all the hard work and you and I could work on our report.”
Erik turned to me. “You’ve worked with wood before? We could be making two at a time. Why am I doing all the carving?”
I didn’t want to get into the day Mr. Mac had banned me from woodshop, so I just said, “Because I’m awful at it. Trust me.”
“Fair enough.” Erik pointed to the table on his right. “You and Katrin can set up there. So long as you keep reading me instructions, we can all work together on the report.”
“Really?” Katrin walked over to the empty table. “That’d be great. We’ve covered all of the data analysis, and now we’re on to the action plan.”
“Ah, the dreaded action plan.” Erik glanced down at the schematic. “What’s my next step on this, Saga?”
“The trigger.” I frowned at the paper while Katrin set up on the nearby table. “You need to cut out an L-shaped piece, then smooth it out. And then . . .”
I pointed to the edges of the trigger, showing Erik the holes and divots.
“This will take a while.” He frowned. “Go. Write. I’m here if you have questions.”
“Thanks.” I stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek before grabbing the schematic and crossing to Katrin’s table. I snagged a piece of lefse from the plate and turned my attention to the papers spread out on the work surface. “Okay. Where are we?”
“Same place we were yesterday,” she said. “Trying to figure out how to convince a country of raiders to embody a civilized lifestyle. Any ideas?”
“I still vote for conquer with brute force,” Erik piped up from the workbench.
“That’s always a last resort,” I agreed. “But since we’re attempting to establish an egalitarian society, we’re looking for a more . . . inclusive approach.”
Katrin tapped the soft end of her writing feather against her face. “What if we sent a negotiator? Someone intimidating enough to inspire fear so they’d be willing to hear him out, but compelling enough to convince them to actually listen to the benefits . . . and, hopefully, implement them.”
“That could work,” I agreed. “But do we have anyone who’s both intimidating and compelling?”
“I can think of half a dozen warriors who would intimidate the hell out of the clans,” Erik offered. “Ivar and Hilf come to mind.”
“Ivar and Hilf would slaughter the first person who refused to convert.” Katrin shook her head. “We need someone who has a way with words; who can relate to outsiders without offending them.”
“What about Axel?” I suggested. “He’s really good with people. And he can be as intimidating as hell when he needs to be.”
I still hadn’t forgotten my initial impression of him, his bow drawn as he assassinated intruders on my first day in Valkyris. Yikes.
“Axel could work.” Erik cut into the wood. “But he’d need a second. And I’m not sure anyone here is quite his equal.”
A slow smile tugged at my lips. “I can think of someone who’s exactly his equal. Possibly even his superior.”
Katrin covered her mouth. “You wouldn’t do that to her.”
“To her? Are you kidding? She’d be the first to volunteer if it meant she saw some action.”
Katrin giggled. “Can you imagine them trying to work together?”
“What are you laughing about?” Erik lifted the trigger to his lips and blew away the sawdust.
“Saga thinks we should send Ingrid to negotiate along with Axel.”
“Ingrid.” Erik made one more cut, then set the trigger down. “That could work.”
“She’s unseasoned in battle, but she’s got the drive. And she really wants to make a difference here,” I said.
“She’s already more accomplished on most weapons than half of our Shieldmaiden Squadron.” Erik leaned back against his table. “But how is she with negotiations? I assume she’s untested there.”
“So far as I know, yes. But she’s a fast learner. If someone trained her, I’m sure she’d pick the skill up fairly quickly.” I lifted my own writing feather and pressed it to the parchment.
Negotiation/conversion team: Axel and Ingrid.
I had to admit, it looked promising.
I looked up. “What happens after they make initial contact?”
“The negotiator attempts to amicably convert the targeted tribe using the data contained within this report.” Katrin tapped the parchment.
“And if negotiations fail, they call in reinforcements to take the tribe by force?” I asked.
“The conversion would involve explaining the situation,” Erik corrected. “They’d relay the tactical advantages of siding with Valkyris, including use of dragons and älva for defense, and the sheer volume of troops we’ve already amassed.”
“But we haven’t brought in many new troops.” I frowned. “Have we?”
“They don’t need to know that.” Erik winked.
“I suppose not.” All’s fair in love and war, right?
“If they still don’t convert after that, we let them go.” Erik shrugged. “Saga’s right; if we truly believe in egalitarianism, we cannot force our choices on others.”
Finally!
“There will be other clans who do wish to take us up on our offer, and we don’t want to waste our negotiators’ time. They’ll have a lot of ground to cover. Saga, what’s my next step with the weapon?”
I studied the schematic. “Attach the trigger, then craft the handle and the end piece.”
“Show me?” Erik asked.
I stood and carried the schematic to his table. “This one’s complicated; I should leave it here. But basically, it’s these.”
I pointed to the drawings, indicating where the trigger should attach, and the proper application of the other pieces. Erik set to work, and I returned to Katrin’s table. We hashed out a few more details before Erik finally called over his shoulder.
“I think I have it. You want to go
outside and test it out?”
“Um, yes!” I scribbled one more note and looked across the table. “Katrin, you want to come?”
“So long as nobody asks me to use that thing, I’m in.” She pushed her chair back and stood.
“It’s probably safer than Katrin with a sword,” Erik deadpanned.
“Hey!” Katrin objected.
“I’m kidding.” He held up one hand. “You’ve come a long way. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Oh, I’m proud of myself. I just know my own limitations.” Katrin followed Erik to the door. “Saga, you coming?”
“Yup.” I wrote one last instruction before throwing down my writing feather and chasing after my friends. I’d never fired a crossbow before—and certainly never fired one handmade by a Viking. This was shaping up to be a very interesting—and potentially game-changing—day. It hadn’t taken Erik long to produce the weapon. If we put our makers on crossbow duty, we’d have a sizeable arsenal—one that could conceivably tip the scales in our favor. If this worked . . .
My heart pounded as the best possible outcome played through my head. Bjorn defeated. All of Norway willingly converted, living in villages governed by Valkyris’ values of love, honor, and fairness. And Erik and I, finally free to explore a relationship outside the confines of imminent attack, impending death, or outright annihilation.
Until I had to go home.
My fantasy came to a screeching halt as I followed Erik outside. His hands were steady as he set up the targets, and I couldn’t help but remember the way they’d felt on my waist, my arms, my face, as he’d held me close through that one blissful night. We’d barely begun to figure out what we might mean to each other, but at some point, through some magic, all of that could be ripped away. The dagger wasn’t working now, but when it was . . . wouldn’t I have to go back?
More importantly, didn’t I want to?
I wasn’t sure I knew the answer to that anymore. And with everything else that was going on, I didn’t have the energy to figure it out.
Instead, I shook my head, jogged toward my friends, and took my place at the shooting line. The time would come for hard decisions. For now, I just wanted to enjoy this unbelievable, completely improbable journey.