The Viking Maiden Box Set

by Kelly N. Jane

  Once again, the world took on the glow that allowed her to see every detail as if time itself had slowed. Ingrid let the daggers slip to the ground as she held up her hands and concentrated.

  Two men closest to her fell backward as if knocked into a wall. More came, and she faltered for a valuable few pulses as a trickle of fear rolled down her spine. A deep breath and another push, and three more men fell to the ground.

  Ingrid heaved for air, her arms and legs trembling. Nausea rolled in her stomach. Her knees hit the ground with a thud. After all the training earlier in the day as well as her current efforts, she was drained. Jorg wasn’t far away, fighting against the last two men.

  Get up. Help him!

  The clash of wood and metal pervaded the air. Shouts rang out. The metallic tang of blood and magic burned Ingrid’s nose and coated her tongue.

  A roar of pain caught her attention. Jorg struggled against the last man, a tall brute who held the advantage. Even with a gash along his side and a blood-soaked tunic, Jorg fought on. When he slipped to his knees, Ingrid screamed.

  Angry and determined, she urged herself forward. She crawled through the leaves and twigs like an animal, her muscles too weak to stand. Mud squished between her fingers. Thistles caught in her hair and slashed her face. With a surge of strength, she lunged forward to trip the larger opponent.

  An instant later, a crushing blow to the ribs knocked Ingrid to her back. A heavy boot smashed her chest and pinned her to the ground.

  “I’ll get to you next,” a rough voice mocked.

  Ingrid closed her eyes and seized the man’s leg. As it had before, her breathing slowed and a pathway inside his body opened to her view. There were injuries, cuts and bruises. But she ignored those, a different destination in mind.

  The muscles under her hand relaxed. The blood rushing through the veins slowed and thickened. She saw the rapid heartbeat turn sluggish, then stop. When the man fell with a thump near her, she held on. She didn’t let go until his heart shriveled to nothing. She laid there, blinking into the bright sky.

  A figure blocked the sunlight as it hovered over her with a halo of nut brown hair. “Ingrid! Say something.” Jorg’s voice was raspy as he slid a trembling hand along her shoulder, his touch light and seemingly afraid.

  With a sigh of relief, she realized his wound was superficial as the rush of energy cooled inside her core, totally spent.

  20

  “We need to get to the bridge. Can you stand?” Jorg held his hands on either side of her face as he spoke.

  The warmth of his palms seeped into her rapidly cooling skin. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as she croaked out a hoarse affirmation and made to sit up. Bodies lay scattered around them, and one man moaned. The initial blast of her power must have only knocked them out.

  Was it wise to leave them alive to fight again?

  “What should we do with those who live? Should we question them?” she asked.

  “We know who they are and why they’re here. Let’s hurry to the shelter of the palisade.” Jorg quickly tucked her to his side and hurried away as quickly as they could move. The wound on his side was warm and sticky on her fingers where she gripped his waist.

  I’m sorry I can’t help with this right now.

  “It’s only a scratch. Don’t even try, or you’ll take longer to recover yourself.”

  The tree line was ahead, and they could see the regular movement of people. Ingrid sagged in relief. There hadn’t been an attack on the others. The motion caused Jorg to shift her tight against his side, so her feet barely skimmed the ground.

  “You can let go. If I’d not spent so much energy with Eir, I could have lasted longer. I’m nearly better already, though.” She didn’t make any motions to pull away.

  As soon as they entered the courtyard, two guards hurried over to them. One of them was Gavin. Jorg leaned close to him and spoke in a low voice that Ingrid couldn’t hear.

  Gavin called out to two other guards, and the four hurried out the gate toward the forest. The hiss of metal rang out as they drew their weapons while they jogged away. Ingrid stood rooted to the ground when Jorg started to move them forward again.

  “Where are they going?”

  Jorg scrubbed his hand over his face. The blood and dirt blending together as a reminder of what they’d just experienced. “Do you think we should have to face them again? What if next time they kill someone?” He nodded to the few people finishing up their chores before they went inside for the evening meal. “We’ve brought a lot of danger into their home. These people have helped us, and they deserve to stay safe.”

  It was true. If anyone was hurt or worse because of those men, she’d never forgive herself. Just then, two young boys ran from the stables, jostling each other and laughing as they headed toward a door leading directly into the dining hall. She tamped down her rising guilt and nodded.

  “We should speak to Bremen and let him know what happened,” she said. They moved forward again, away from the events taking place behind her among the trees. She’d exclaimed to Eir that she’d never use her powers to take another’s life. Mere hours later, she’d done just that.

  What am I becoming?

  Rather than walking through the main doors, Ingrid and Jorg followed where the two boys had slipped through a side door. They were able to sneak unnoticed into the dining hall and stood along the back wall, searching a less direct path to the front table where Bremen dined with Galwain at his side. Selby should have been there, too, but before Ingrid could question her whereabouts, her best friend’s voice rang out as she hurried toward Ingrid.

  “There you are!” Selby’s boisterous vocals took years to get used to. Ingrid hunched her shoulders and gave an apologetic smile to the men sitting near where they stood. “Where were you? I looked all over after you left—you worried me. And what happened?” Blood splattered over both she and Jorg, obvious that there had been trouble.

  “I’m sorry,” Ingrid said, ignoring an explanation for the moment. There wouldn’t be any point to trying to stay on the fringes of the room anymore. They needed to warn the others and might as well let Selby lead the way.

  Selby looped her arm through Ingrid’s and dragged her toward the front as Jorg followed.

  On their way to the front, the cook interrupted them as she called out to Selby. The woman hurried over with a scowl on her face. She appeared as though she’d wrestled a dozen errant boys. The bun atop her head fell limply to the side, and chunks of loose pieces of graying hair strayed down her neck.

  “I do not want that flying beast in me kitchen again, do you hear? If she wants a pie, you make it for yerself and don’t let me see one speck of a mess after you do.”

  Selby’s eyes went wide, and she only nodded in response to the angry woman.

  “She will be most careful, I assure you,” Ingrid said and pulled Selby away. “What did you do?” she whispered after they were far enough away.

  “Lazuli was pestering me to play with her earlier. I saw one of the serving girls and told Lazuli I had to help in the kitchens, thinking she’d go off to find Plintze or something. The next thing I knew, I was offering to make her a pie. I guess she didn’t forget about that.”

  “She’ll never forget. Don’t make a promise to a sprite that you can’t fulfill. Trust me, you don’t want to be on the wrong side of her temper,” Plintze said as he joined the others ambling to the front tables.

  “I wish someone would have told me that,” Selby moaned and plopped into a chair.

  Under normal circumstances, Ingrid, and especially Jorg, would have enjoyed Selby’s self-inflicted struggles, but neither could muster more than a hint of amusement.

  Bremen’s attention was drawn to Jorg as he glanced toward Selby, and his expression turned sour. Their disheveled appearance took immediate priority.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt your meal, but we need to speak with you Bremen,” Jorg said.

  It took all of Ingrid’s com
posure to keep the cringe off her face at Jorg’s authoritative tone. Bremen’s stone-faced expression said he shared her sentiment. The information Galwain had shared that morning—only just that morning—would be a hard adjustment for both of them. Instead of rising to go somewhere quieter, he leaned back in his chair and met Jorg’s stare. Neither of them backed down from the challenge to avert their eyes.

  Only the scratch of nervous feet or a muffled cough remained in the once bustling dining hall. The confrontation drew unnecessary attention, and several men stood with their hands rested on the hilts of their swords. With silent grace, the queen stood. “Perhaps we should all head back to the council room?”

  A hint of competition sparkled in Jorg’s eyes, waiting for Bremen to accept the invitation first.

  “Now!” The queen’s tone, though quietly spoken, made both men snap their gaze to her. The raised brow she directed to each of them had them giving her a nod as they turned to leave.

  Gavin and those who’d gone into the woods with him strode toward the group as they left the dining hall.

  “What is it?” Bremen asked, stepping forward. A nod toward Jorg had the prince looking between the two men with a mixture of suspicion and irritation.

  “We are headed to the council chambers. You should join us,” Jorg said.

  A flush spread across Bremen’s face, and Ingrid wondered how they were going to keep the two in the same confined space once they made it to the meeting.

  Galwain strode past the simmering tempers and led the way down the hall, giving Ingrid the impression that the queen was of the same mindset.

  The guards stayed outside the door while Gavin joined the rest of the party, and they settled into chairs around the large table. Without waiting to be asked, Jorg gave the details of the attack.

  The images replayed in Ingrid’s mind, and her chest tightened so much it was hard to breathe. When Gavin confirmed that all the men were indeed dead, she bit down on the inside of her lip in order to keep her expression strong.

  “Do you think it was an isolated group?” Bremen asked. The anger aimed at Jorg earlier was now replaced with the calm demeanor of a leader.

  “I doubt it. More likely a scouting party,” Jorg said. “Greer led those men against us on the road, and he’d want to find out if we accompanied you here. I’d say we can look forward to more of them in the next day or two when those men don’t check in.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s true. I recognized two of them,” Gavin added.

  Plintze hopped off his chair and strode for the door. “I’m going to go find Lazuli and make sure she stays away from all of this,” he said as he hurried out.

  Bremen scrubbed his hand over his face. The simple gesture done in contemplation was familiar to Ingrid, and she glanced sidelong to Jorg. He sat relaxed and didn’t seem to notice.

  “Bremen told me of the trouble you had on the road, and I am so sorry for it.” Galwain let her gaze drift to her lap when Jorg didn’t respond, then turned her focus to Bremen. “So far, you have met with smaller groups, but now that word has had time to spread of Ingrid’s identity and where she is, I have no doubt my father will be moving all of his forces this way.”

  “Will he attack if he learns you’re here?” Selby asked.

  It was a good question and worthy of considering. From what it sounded like, Wilbert’s focus was on finding Ingrid and didn’t know Galwain had ever given birth to a son. Two of them, though that might not be useful information to share under the circumstances.

  Would it make a difference to a man so set on hate?

  Galwain gave a brief pause before speaking again. “I couldn’t say if I would have any influence on him after all these years, but I’m certainly willing to try and speak with him.”

  “He may be my grandfather, but he does not seem to be a man in his right mind. I’ll not take a chance with your safety,” Bremen said. “We can offer him a parlay, but he must come here where we can protect you.”

  Galwain narrowed her eyes but smiled at her son. “The safety of everyone is of the utmost concern. I’ll not sit in safety if I can stop bloodshed. If I’d wanted to do that, I would not have boarded that awful boat again.”

  “The men we’ve come across have no interest in parlays.” Disdain oozed from Jorg’s words. “That effort would only grant time for their men to breech the palisade while we are focused elsewhere. We need to be prepared to fight.”

  “My father is a cunning man and may not march straight to the gate like regular Saxons. He has already proven his stubbornness by hiring such a ruthless army. He will be determined to breech the walls,” Galwain said.

  “If we keep the archers spread out along the wall, we’ll control the high ground and can concentrate the rest of the men by the gate. Even if we have lower numbers of men compared to what they are sure to have, if they breech there it will be a bottleneck. We will have the advantage.” Bremen spoke as a commander, no longer seeking peace but a plan of action.

  “Yes, but how will we keep them from climbing the walls? If they have more numbers than we do, eventually, they will get their ladders on the sides and come over the top,” Gavin said.

  “How outnumbered will we be, do you think?” Ingrid asked.

  “It’s hard to say. We won’t know until they arrive, but they’ll be scattered about in the woods.” Bremen stood and paced slowly. “The wagons will be here in two days, three at the most. Then we’ll be up to our full compliment. We came for meetings with Mercia, not to fight. It is safe, and better planning, to assume they will have a larger force.”

  “Smaller numbers have won large battles. We’ll need to keep them off the walls,” Jorg said. Some of the antagonizing tone toward Bremen had dissipated. It seemed as though concentrating on the upcoming fight helped transfer his anger.

  “It will be too hard for the archers to keep up. Perhaps we should think of an escape plan,” Gavin said.

  “No, we can’t run. Besides, where would we go? We have too many to sneak past them through the woods. I won’t leave anyone behind, and too many wouldn’t be able to keep up.” Bremen stretched his back and shook his head. There had to be a solution.

  “What if we set fires all along the outside of the wall? It would make it more difficult to reach us, and we could see them approach if they attack in the dark.” Ingrid suggested.

  “They would send a small force ahead to put those out before the rest of them rushed,” Gavin said. Both Bremen and Jorg nodded in agreement.

  The room was silent for a few minutes, the sputtering of a few lit candles the only sound as everyone sat in deep thought. Ingrid stared blankly at the flames while she tried to come up with a better plan until she considered one of the candles sitting inside a shallow metal cup.

  “What about a kettle? Large ones filled with tar. If they were lit, it would be too difficult to put out the light. Even if they tried to knock them over, it would make it too hard for them to cross, even if the fires went out—”

  “We could wrap a chain around them and pull them over. As the men rushed forward the hot tar would coat and burn them. That would give the archers more time and create a barrier that could keep them from getting their ladders across to the wall at all. Yes, that might work,” Bremen said, his eyes bright as he spoke, not looking at any one person in particular.

  Ingrid swallowed and glanced at Selby, who watched Bremen with a smile and a look of utter pride. That wasn’t exactly what I thought—it’s even better.

  Jorg sucked in a deep breath and rolled his eyes at her, but she could see the recognition in his eyes that he agreed with the plan as well.

  “The fire would set the grasses ablaze, and it would work its way through the ditch to the palisade. We would trap ourselves and do their job for them.” Gavin looked as though it pained him to stomp out their hope.

  “Every year back at home, there are fields left to sallow,” Selby said. “Depending on the need, some of them are fired to better prepare the
soil for the next year’s crops. If we hurry, couldn’t we do that to the ditch? That way, when the fires reach it, there will be nothing left to burn.”

  Bremen stared at her. His eyes glittered with a hardened satisfaction, a warrior ready and eager for action.

  21

  Preparations for the upcoming battle were in full swing the next day. Forges blazed as smiths pounded more chains into shape. Every kettle that could be found was heated over small flames, wafting the pungent aroma of tar through the air.

  Every man met in the courtyard to sharpen steel or fashion arrows between exercise sessions and drills. Selby trained alongside Bremen and the other men, while Ingrid sparred with Jorg so he could teach her how to use different weapons.

  After the meeting in Bremen’s council room, Gavin had given Ingrid back her daggers which he’d found in the woods. She’d thanked him, especially relieved to have the bone-handled blade Jorg had given her returned.

  “I still don’t understand why this is necessary? I can use a hammer and my daggers. Besides, I proved I can fight without weapons in the forest,” Ingrid said. She gave a quick shudder as she recalled the hammer made especially for her in Jorvik, and the shipwreck that caused her to lose it.

  “A hammer is a strength weapon. The one you had was lighter, unique. You used it well, but it is not the right choice for you,” Jorg said as he held out an axe. “And using your abilities in the forest left you drained. A smart warrior will give themselves options.”

  Ingrid rolled her eyes and bit her cheek as she stared at him, finally taking the axe. “I’m not that weak, you know.”

  Jorg gave her a challenging, blazing stare that made her heart leap and distracted her focus on fight training. Too fast for her to react, Jorg was behind her with an arm around her throat and her wrists trapped by his other hand.

  “So, use your strength against me then.” His voice held the timber of a man ready for battle, and while it was a bit exciting, especially said into her ear, it was also frightening. Ingrid swallowed hard and tried to wrench herself free, without a sliver of progress.