But so were the Estlanders.
At the same time that sound rang against the stone walls, the cover was lifted from the golden tray.
The heads of their scouts rested on a bed of greens and fruits. Seeing his son’s head dressed like a slaughtered boar, Leif roared.
At once, the lords pushed their ladies into the shadows behind them and threw their cloaks back, pulling shining swords into their hands.
Brenna knew little after that but the slash and bash and blood of the fight.
~oOo~
When only women clutching children were left of the prince’s people, as well as the prince himself, Brenna pulled back. But Leif, in his rage of grief, did not, and Calder did not stop him—or Knut and Oluf, who helped their friend slay every woman and every child. The stone walls resounded with screams.
Then, as they reached the far end of the hall, spraying blood, Calder, holding the prince, called out, “ENOUGH!”
All that remained was the crowned woman holding a now screaming infant. Calder said something to the prince in the Estlander tongue. The prince nodded, whimpering.
Then Calder turned to Leif. “His wife and his heir. Brenna God’s-Eye!” he shouted without turning her way, and Brenna came forward.
“Hold him at the end of your sword. Kill him if he so much as blinks.”
She did as she was told, and Calder stepped away. He went to the woman and wrested the child from her arms. As the mother screamed, Calder took the babe by its ankles and slammed it into the nearest wall. Its wails ended abruptly. Knut silenced the woman by opening her throat.
The prince made not even a peep.
It had happened quickly, and was so beyond Brenna’s expectation that she didn’t understand until Calder dropped the small body to the floor and returned to grab the prince by the throat. As he dragged the prince through the hall, past the tray bearing the heads of young Einar and Halvar, past the bodies of the prince’s family, guards, and inner circle, Brenna stood where she was and stared at that small broken body. Its mother had fallen so that her arm covered it, as if trying to protect her child even in death.
Brenna’s vision swam, and she blinked and turned away.
“Brenna God’s-Eye.” Leif spoke at her shoulder, his voice rough and quiet. “We have duty elsewhere.”
She nodded and turned, following him and the others through the hall. Calder had the prince outside, still holding that thin neck in his large hand. He was speaking rapidly and forcefully in the Estlander tongue. Brenna took her place behind him, not understanding anything but that—her place. Her role. Her fate.
He stopped speaking and drew his blade across the prince’s throat. The stunned crowd gasped—commoners and soldiers alike. Some screamed. Then Calder threw the dying body forward and spoke again.
This time, when he stopped, the people before them dropped to their knees.
~oOo~
Calder evacuated the people from the castle and barred the gates, then left six men to stand guard. The rest returned to camp. They had lost two more men in the fight, and they carried their bodies with them. When they arrived, Calder stalked to the hostage, who had always been a sacrifice, and buried his axe in the man’s chest without even a pause. Then he stalked off toward his tent, alone.
Brenna knew—she thought she knew—that all would be explained eventually, but she was numb and tired and didn’t care. The sight of the babe on the bloody floor in its mother’s arms would not leave her.
She had seen dead children. She had killed women. It was Jarl Åke’s, and his son Calder’s, practice to kill most villagers, neither of them wanting the bother of keeping a large cargo of slaves. Preferring death to slavery, Brenna had few qualms about killing.
It was not new. It was expected. But that death, the cold brutality of it, had struck Brenna somewhere new. It made her sick.
She went straight to the healer’s tent, setting her sword and shield outside it. The healer wasn’t there. Only the captive woman tended to the wounded, alone. Brenna wasn’t surprised to find her unbound and unattended; slaves often had free run of the camp. There was nowhere they could go for escape, and should they try, they would be killed before they could do much damage.
Vali had been washed; his face, beard, and hair were free of blood. His color seemed better, and when she knelt at his side and laid her hand on his cheek, he was cooler. For the first time since she’d stood in that stone hall and stared at the bodies on the floor, Brenna felt a slice of calm.
“He…strong, your man. Like bear. He live, I think.”
“He’s not—” The words ‘my man’ died in her mouth as it dawned on her that the captive had spoken. Brenna stood and turned to her. “You speak our language.”
“A little, yes. My…brother? He…” Words failed her, and she made a pantomime that Brenna understood as a boat on water.
“Sailed?”
She smiled. “Yes. Went far. He teach me. I…called Olga.”
“Brenna.” She patted her chest. Speaking to this foreign woman made Brenna feel a bit more grounded and a bit less strange.
“They all say you ‘God’s-Eye.’ That this?” She tapped her own cheek below her right eye.
Brenna’s guard went up, and she scowled. Even Estlanders were obsessed with her eye. She’d had a brief delusion that since the people of this place did not have a god who’d given up his right eye for wisdom, perhaps they wouldn’t find her so terrifying.
Olga realized her mistake and dropped her head. “Excuse. I not mean…”
Ignoring her, Brenna turned and sat at Vali’s side. The poultice had been removed, and his stitched skin was bared to the room. It looked better, not so swollen, and the seam was closing. She laid her hand on his shoulder, just to the side of the wound, and then lightly stroked the length of his long, strong back.
Caught up with watching her hand move over the contours of his muscles, she didn’t notice that he had woken.
“I missed a battle, it seems.” When she jumped and yanked her hand away, he grunted. “Please. Your touch…soothes.”
After a doubtful hesitation, she returned her hand to his skin, and he sighed.
“By the look of you, I missed a whole war. Are we well?”
“We defeated the prince.” She said no more; she didn’t know if they were well. She didn’t feel well. Behind her, the captive gasped, and Brenna remembered that she could understand them. All the more reason not to speak on what had happened at the castle.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Like someone tried to cleave me in twain.” He slid his hand out and brushed it against her leg. Even through her leathers, she felt that touch deeply. “In this moment, though, I feel well.”
“Vali—”
He cut her off with a sigh and a smile. “You said my name.”
“Yes.” She didn’t understand why that had pleased him so. What else would she have called him? “Vali, I don’t understand you.” It was what she had intended to say before he’d cut her off; now she meant it even more.
“You will, shieldmaiden. In time. For now, will you stay with me?”
Brenna nodded, still stroking his back. After a few moments, weariness settled over her shoulders and, without thinking about it, she shifted and lay down at his side, facing him.
“Rest, beautiful Brenna,” he murmured.
She closed her eyes, not noticing that she had wrapped her arms around his.
“Is she injured?” Sven cast a raised eyebrow on Brenna’s sleeping form.
Vali smiled. “No. Only sleeping.”
The healer redirected his eyebrow to Vali. “Well, you are a fortunate man to have the God’s-Eye turned so well on you. By all rights you should be in Valhalla tonight.”
In truth, Vali did feel better when Brenna was near, but he thought it at least as likely that the cause was worldly as otherworldly. He understood his mind—and his body. Currently, lying on his stomach was causing him discomfort for more reason
than the gash in his back.
Then Sven knelt at his other side and began laying the pungent, all-too-recently-boiling strips of a fresh poultice on his back, and the great share of his attention went toward containing that pain. He didn’t want to groan too loudly or tense his arm, lest he wake Brenna and end this sweet closeness.
She had his arm clasped in both of hers, and her forehead rested on his shoulder. If only he could have rolled to his side and pulled her close. At the moment, the one thing he wanted more was Sven’s immediate and bloody death.
“Must it be so hot?” he muttered through clenched teeth, as quietly as he could.
Sven chuckled. “Now that you’re complaining, I know you’ll survive. And yes. The heat draws, as well you know.” He finished and stood. “Shall I wake her and send her on?”
“No. I want her here.”
“It’s a dangerous path you seek, my friend.” Sven spoke quietly. “Not only is she the God’s-Eye, but Calder keeps her close. If this alliance breaks…”
He didn’t finish, and it wasn’t necessary. Vali understood. If the alliance broke, he and Brenna would be enemies. And it could well break. Snorri and Åke had been bitter foes not many years before, and Vali had seen traces of that contempt among the raiders old enough to remember. It was also true that Calder kept Brenna close, almost as if she were his charm—and perhaps she was. But it didn’t matter.
He smiled at the blonde head sleeping so close. “I know. Heal my body, Sven. Leave my heart to me.”
~oOo~
By the time the sky began to lighten toward morning, Vali felt well and strong enough that lying quietly on his stomach had become a torture of its own. He needed to move, and he could feel in his body that he would be able to. Not without pain, but pain was no deterrent to him.
The deterrent was Brenna, who’d slept motionless for hours, her brow smooth with peace and comfort. There was little in this world or any other that would cause him to disturb her rest.
Having already slept the better part of a full day, and feeling his body reject the infection and begin its mending, Vali slept little while Brenna did. Instead, he watched her, and he thought.
The captive girl helping Sven spoke their language, it was how Sven had known she would be of use, so no one said much inside the healer’s tent about what was going on outside it. Vali knew little of what he’d missed except that a ‘prince’ had been beaten. He itched to know more, and he hated that he’d been lying helpless while battle had raged.
Lying at his side, Brenna still bore the marks of that fight. Dried blood spattered her face, streaked her hair, grimed the creases of her hands. She hadn’t washed before she’d come to see him.
He liked that—the thought that she’d come straight here, to check on him, to stay with him. She felt the pull to be close, too. He liked that very much indeed.
In the years since Brenna had chased his father off and galvanized Vali to seek a life of his own, he had thought often of the debt he owed the girl. Then she had become the famed shieldmaiden, and he had asked the gods to give him the chance to repay the debt. It had been his request with every offering. He had not thought more of her than that—a great debt owed, a gratitude that would outlast repayment.
Then he had seen her. And then he had spoken with her. And now he was getting to know her.
What he wanted now with her was everything. Lying here with her, so intimate and yet so chaste, his blood boiled with the need to have her. All of her. Always.
But for Sven’s snores, the tent was quiet when Brenna woke. The day was beginning in gloom; the watery grey light Vali could see through the gaps in the tent told of heavy cloud cover. Summer was nearing its end. The sail home would be miserable if they didn’t get underway soon.
She stirred and stretched, taking a deep, luxurious breath. When she let it out, the air danced over Vali’s skin and made prickles rise up. She opened her eyes.
As soon as she focused on the arm she held, she went rigid. Her head came up, and her eyes met his—the peace in which she’d slept was gone, replaced with shock and dismay.
Knowing what would happen next, Vali was prepared, and when she jumped, pulling her arms from his and trying to sit up, he rolled to his side and grabbed her. His wound complained mightily, but he ignored it.
His movement changed her focus, though, and brought it back to him. “Be careful! You’re too hurt.”
Heartened that she thought of him even now, he smiled. “Do not run away, Brenna. That would hurt me more.”
“I…I…didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”
“I am not. You slept well?”
She looked down at her arm, where he held her, and she nodded. “How do you feel?”
Vali let go of her arm and moved his hand up to cradle her cheek. The threads in his back stretched uncomfortably. “Much better. Your touch restores me.”
It was the wrong thing to say, and he understood why as the words left his mouth, but it was too late. She flinched, jerking her head clear of his touch, and stood before he could stop her. She looked down on him, her marvelous eyes dim with disappointment.
“Brenna, hold. I didn’t mean—”
She turned and left the tent before he could finish.
~oOo~
Vali tried to rise and follow her, and he managed to sit before it occurred to him that he was in no condition to chase her down. Sven had woken in the meantime and leapt to his feet while Vali struggled to get his knees under him.
“Usch, fool. You’ll tear out my hard work! Lie down.” He didn’t have the strength to resist as Sven muscled him back to his pallet. “Look. You bleed again. Fool.”
“You said that already.”
“Well, it deserves saying twice.”
Now that Vali was down again, Sven crouched at his side. As he dabbed at Vali’s back, his head swiveled. Though they were alone, he checked the tent conspiratorially, as if there were some nook or cranny in the simple space in which an eavesdropper might lurk. “Calder has called everyone together. After yesterday—”
“What happened yesterday?” Vali snapped. He was tired already of convalescing. He was not a man who lay idly back while battles were fought and women walked away from him.
“The parley was an ambush. Yet we prevailed. Our people killed the prince and all his family, all his attendants and their families, his best soldiers. Then Calder closed the castle. He is expected to claim this land in his father’s name.”
“What?” They were raiders, not settlers. They had neither the resources nor the skill to take over a princedom, and the season was too ripe to bring more people and supplies over.
Moreover, this raid was an alliance. Calder had the lead, but he overstepped to think he could claim territory in Åke’s name when Jarl Snorri had sent warriors as well. Vali pushed himself up again. If anyone could be said to lead Snorri’s men above any other, it was he. “I need to be there. Help me stand.”
“Vali—”
“Help me stand,” he repeated, and Sven sighed, stood, and helped him to his feet. Vali gritted his teeth against the pain.
Sven shook his head. “You are a stubborn fool.”
~oOo~
A camp of such size was never truly quiet, not even in the dead of night, but as Sven helped Vali through the tent opening and into the grey morning, their surroundings were as close to quiet as could be. Everyone who could be was gathered near the center fire, sitting, crouching or kneeling where Calder stood.
Sven handed Vali a spear to use as a stick, and with that, Vali made himself move forward on his own power. Every step was an agony, but he stood tall and joined the others, with Sven at his side like the worried mother of a babe taking his first steps.
Brenna, sitting near Calder, saw him and stood, her face a perfect image of shocked worry. She took two quick steps toward him before she remembered herself and stopped, then smoothed the notice from her face. He hadn’t missed it, however, and it made him glad to see that her fi
rst thought was for him, even if it was against her judgment.
He refrained from smiling or otherwise acknowledging her. To get close to this woman the way he wanted, he would need be patient and perhaps a bit stealthy. She obviously feared the pull between them. And she obviously hated the fear.
He understood that. But he also understood that she felt the pull, and he wouldn’t turn away from that. So he would leave her to her wariness for now and focus on the more pressing matter at hand.
God's Eye (The Northwomen Sagas #1) Page 5