Tyra & Bjorn (Viking Glory Book 3)

by Celeste Barclay

  They stayed that way for hours until a Norseman braved their snapping teeth and removed their gags. He tossed dried beef at them, but neither of them were able to reach it from their laps. The man cackled like an old woman, amused with his own antics.

  “I need to relieve myself,” Tyra muttered. She had drunk nothing in hours, but she wanted to give their escape another attempt.

  “Good thing you’re a woman. You can pish where you sit.” The man walked away, and the camp began to settle for the night. Tyra waited until no one had moved for half an hour before she dared whisper to Bjorn.

  “I still have another knife in my boot. They never checked even after I pulled the first one out. If I can get to it, then I can try to cut us loose.”

  “If you can get to it, give it to me. I’ll be able to cut through the rope faster.”

  “All right.”

  Bjorn pretended to stretch his back and find a better position as Tyra pulled her knees in as far as she could and slid her foot back. She fumbled with the end of the hilt. She almost reached but not quite. She tried again and almost had it when a guard moved toward them. She pretended to scratch her leg as Bjorn straightened up. Tyra laid her head back against Bjorn and let her eyes close, except she kept them open just a crack. She would not make herself any more vulnerable than she already was. When she was sure the man left, she turned her head toward Bjorn’s ear.

  “I almost had it. I touched the end of the handle, but I didn’t manage to grasp it. I can try again.”

  This time Bjorn acted as if he was if he was leaning to one side then the other to stretch. It was enough for Tyra to wrap her fingers around the hilt. She jerked it free and slid it beneath her legs which she stretched out.

  “Got it,” she murmured.

  “Wait a few minutes before you pass it to me. They were watching us as I moved around. Let them relax again.”

  “I think I can get my feet free once it’s safe to move again.”

  “Be careful. You’ll do it from beneath. Don’t cut yourself.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  “Does anyone?”

  Tyra huffed.

  “I love you,” Bjorn whispered.

  “I love you more.”

  “Not possible.”

  They both smiled before remembering where they were.

  “I’m going to find the nearest bed and keep you in it for a sennight while I make love to you every way we can both come up with,” Tyra teased.

  “Promise?”

  “I shall tie you up if I must.”

  “I wouldn’t mind it if you were worshipping my body,” Bjorn teased back.

  “Worship? Mighty big opinion of yourself.”

  “I will show you what is mighty and big.”

  “You already have. And I intend to keep you in that bed so you can remind me over and over.”

  “And if I should like to tie you up and worship your body, Ty?”

  “Who am I to argue with what my man wants?”

  “You shall get us caught if you make me laugh.”

  They fell silent as they watched the camp, certain few people were still paying attention to them. Tyra pulled her legs in again and leaned as far forward as the ropes allowed. She rested her cheek against her knees as if she falling asleep. She grasped the rope from behind her legs and opened her knees just enough to spy down and ensure she did not sever her hand instead of the rope. When it gave way, she tapped Bjorn’s arm. She covered the hilt with her palm and slid it along the ground until Bjorn’s hand once again covered hers. He squeezed it before doing the same as she did, cutting his legs free. Then he set to work on the coils that kept them pressed together. He remained leaned over with his knees apart as he sawed the rope from beneath. He made hard and fast strokes, careful not to impale his chin or throat. It was awkward, but it was the least obvious maneuver. It took several minutes before the rope frayed and broke apart. Bjorn remained bent over to keep the rope in place.

  “It’s done,” he whispered.

  “Which way do we go? Did you see which way we came from?”

  “I did, but we can’t go back that way. They will track us too easily.”

  “Which direction will they least expect?”

  “Grímr will send men in all directions, but if we can slip into the trees where he stepped out, that’s is the direction he will least expect. Why would we go toward where he hid? It does not have the densest tree cover, but it’s enough to hide us or give us places to climb into.”

  “Agreed. We should wait a little longer. I can’t tell if our movement caught anyone’s eye. They might be waiting us out. Did you spot where the guards posted?”

  “Yes. There is one straight in front of you, which is the way we need to go. I’m sure he’s looking out rather than in, so he won’t see us coming.”

  Another hour passed as Tyra and Bjorn waited for the darkest hours of night to blanket them. The guard changed once, but no one else stirred. They sat far enough from the dying fire that they struggled to find their own hand in front of their faces.

  “It’s time. Don’t let go of my shirt.” Bjorn rose to a crouching position and helped Tyra to her feet. He pulled his shirt loose and pushed it into Tyra’s fingers. “Tell me if you can’t go on. Don’t wait until you can’t keep up or fall.”

  Tyra tugged once in agreement.

  “Now,” Bjorn breathed.

  They darted toward the tree line. When they were a few feet away, they spotted the guard. Bjorn pressed Tyra behind him as they slowed to a walk. He covered the man’s mouth and slid the knife across the man’s throat. He dropped to the ground without a sound, and Bjorn pulled Tyra back to his side. They dashed into the trees and continued to run, each with a hand held out in front of them. Tyra could not tell how long they ran. She forced herself to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth. She matched Bjorn’s stride, knowing he was going slower to accommodate her shorter legs. Once she had her breathing under control, she nudged Bjorn and picked up their pace. They were both trained to run long distances, and even though Tyra did not enjoy it as much as Bjorn, she would last as long as he did.

  Bjorn was sure they had run for an hour before they broke free of the trees and entered an unprotected glen. He wanted to curse as he scanned the little that was visible ahead of them. He knew Tyra was trying to listen for anyone who followed them. He thought he had heard pursuers a few times, but no one ever caught up. Bjorn also knew they did not dare stand there much longer in case someone was on their heels. He pulled Tyra toward tall grass, but she hung back.

  “Bog,” she whispered. “Tall grass means bog.”

  She was right. He remembered coming close to being sucked under by one the first time he raided along the Scottish coast.

  He led them through the shorter grass until the outline of more trees came into view. Bjorn thanked the gods that Scotland had as many forests as the Trondelag, if not more. They entered the woods just as the sky began to lighten, making it possible to a few feet in front of them, but it was still impossible to tell where they were going. Bjorn looked to his left and spotted what he was sure was a large oak. He took Tyra by the wrist and led her to it. They stood below it as they looked at the low hanging branches. Tyra understood what Bjorn intended, so she jumped up and wrapped an elbow over the branch. She was prepared to pull herself up until Bjorn’s boost just about sent her flying over it. She pulled her legs until she coiled herself around it. She sat up and reached for the next branch. It was spindly and snapped. She inched closer to the trunk and brought her feet under her, reaching up again to find an even sturdier branch than she stood on. Tyra hoisted herself, discovering another thick branch beside it that formed a vee where they met at the trunk. She moved onto the second branch and waited for Bjorn to join her. He was only seconds behind her. While she panted from climbing, he was still breathing as smoothly as when they finished running.

  Bjorn reached out for Tyra, glad he held her against his sid
e despite their precarious balancing act.

  “We can wait here until there’s more light. Then we’ll have to climb higher,” Tyra’s voice was so quiet, Bjorn strained to make out the words.

  “Are you all right?” he pushed her hair aside, putting his lips near her ear. His breath sent a shiver along her spine and desire spiked deep within her belly.

  “I’d be better if being so close to you didn’t do such funny things to my insides.”

  Bjorn’s chuckle was soundless, but his side moved beneath her. He took her hand and placed it against the ridge in his pants.

  “It’s not one sided.”

  They sat in silence as Tyra leaned against Bjorn, his body heat keeping her from shivering when her perspiration dried and chilled her. They held their breath as they listened to something rustle the leaves behind the tree where they hid. Bjorn turned his head and let the air whoosh from his lungs when he realized it was a stag and doe not far away. The stag was rubbing his antlers against the bark of a nearby tree.

  “Deer,” Bjorn whispered.

  Tyra nodded and pointed higher into the branches. Bjorn waited while Tyra rose, bracing herself against the trunk. There was enough light during the predawn hour for her to see more of the tree. She spotted the limb she wanted to climb to. It would be high enough in the foliage that no one would spot them from the ground. She was grateful for the days of training and hours of swinging her sword that strengthened the muscles the axe tore when it sank into her chest. She would not have had the strength to climb otherwise. Tyra continued until she sat on the branch she wanted. Bjorn followed her up, climbing more like a squirrel than a man. She marveled at how nimble he was for being so large. He moved through the leaves, hardly stirring them, even though he looked like a bear approaching. She reached out her hand and tugged, helping him to the final limb. He slid onto it behind her and pressed her back against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her temple.

  Bjorn relished the freedom to shower Tyra with affection. Finally. He had waited half a score of years to sit as they were now. He never imagined it would be in a tree evading captors, but it would not diminish his glee. He was smiling despite their circumstances as he replayed in his head each time she said she loved him, and he wanted to bellow it from the treetop they sat in. Instead, he pulled her closer and sighed as she sank into his embrace. One of her hands rested on top of his folded ones over her belly while her other hand rested on his thigh. She found a snag in the leather and fiddled with it. She inhaled the pine and musk that clung to Bjorn and the fresh air that wafted through the leaves. Tyra’s body relaxed little by little as her breathing deepened. Her body twitched twice, making Bjorn grin as he leaned his cheek against the crown of her head.

  “Sleep, my love. I will watch over you,” he murmured. He wanted to shut his eyes too and drift off, but he would not risk them falling or being found. He was just as exhausted, but he remained alert. Dawn broke with bright pink and purple hues splashing the sky as the fiery ball rose behind a thin cloud cover. It temped Bjorn wake Tyra to share the beauty with her, but she had curled into him even more and light snores escaped between her lips, sounding more like a purring kitten.

  Bjorn fought to keep his eyes open, but the warmth from Tyra’s body was such a comfort, that his need for sleep almost overcame him. He jerked, and for a moment, fearing his body had twitched like Tyra’s as he slipped toward sleep, but then he heard it. His mind was telling his body to stay awake. The sound was distant, but in the open meadow it carried. He was certain voices were moving toward them.

  “Ty, wake up,” he nudged her. “You have to wake up now.”

  Tyra tried to twist away and batted at his hand as she burrowed further into his chest.

  “Tyra,” he said with more force to his tone. He hated what he had to do, but he covered her mouth and pinched her nose.

  Tyra came awake in a panic. Her arms were pinned to her side, and someone covered her mouth to keep her from screaming. Within an instant, the hand squeezing her nose disappeared.

  “Ty, it’s me. I’m sorry my love, but you must wake up. Silently.”

  Tyra looked at Bjorn, her eyes wide in fear and disoriented. Her gaze shifted as she took in their situation. It came rushing back to her, and she nodded her head. Bjorn dropped his hand from her mouth and eased his hold on her. She reached out and found his nipple, twisting as hard as she could. Bjorn stifled his yelp and glared at her when she smirked. Tyra recognized his look meant he would get his retribution, but it was only fair turnaround.

  Bjorn gestured with his fingers that someone was walking toward them from behind. Tyra froze and strained to hear what Bjorn had. She tapped his hand once to assure him she caught the sounds, too. They sat motionless as the voices drew closer with each breath.

  “Where the bluidy bleeding hell are they? How far can that eejit and his whore have gotten?”

  “I dinna ken, but I’m bluidy tired of traipsing around after them. The bitch was right when she said Grímr should pay us before we continue on. I dinna want to wander aboot in the dark, risk falling into a bluidy bog, to nae get paid.”

  “Haud yer wheest. Ye whine more than a bairn with wet raggies. Ye’ll tell them we’re coming if ye dinna pipe down.”

  The third voice was authoritative and put an end to the other two men’s conversation. Bjorn wanted to grumble since the men talking helped him gauge how close they were drawing. They were beneath the branches on the other side from where Tyra and Bjorn sat when they spoke again.

  “I’m certain we heard them,” a fourth voice spoke. This one was a Norseman. “They were in front of us through the woods, but it’s as though they disappeared once they got to the clearing. We have searched all of the meadow and not come across them. Where do these woods lead to?”

  Bjorn looked at Tyra, and they both prayed the Norseman would get an answer that helped them.

  “Back to the Ross keep. It isnae that far past the end of the forest. They will be in a right pickle if that’s where they’ve gone.” The man with the strident voice snickered, but the lack of mirth grated on Tyra’s nerves.

  “Then do we continue that way? Or assume that if they walked that way, the scouts caught them?”

  “We carry on. Grímr was clear he wanted them back. He doesnae care who finds them as long as he gets them back. And it’s the Ross laird who will pay us tonight if we bring them to him.”

  “Perhaps a wee beastie got them during the night, and we shall find what’s left of them. Nay prisoners to wrestle and bring back. I dinna trust that mon. I witnessed what he did to Donal’s face before he crushed ma brother’s windpipe.”

  “Aye, and nay one should underestimate the woman. She cut off a man’s cock and grinned while doing it. She isnae right in the head, that one. Barmy as the day is long. I like ma meat and potatoes where they are.”

  Tyra turned her face into Bjorn’s chest to smother her laugh. Her movement shook some of the leaves, and they both froze.

  “Did ye catch that?”

  “Aye, in the branches. A squirrel or a bird. Let’s move on. I dinna want shite landing on ma head. I dinna care what ma mother said. It isnae good luck to have anything shite on ye.”

  The men passed below the branch Tyra and Bjorn sat on and continued through the trees. Their voices faded as they discussed the meal they hoped awaited them at the Ross keep.

  Tyra and Bjorn looked at each other as the same thought ran through both of their minds. The three Highlanders carried on a conversation, but the Norseman said nothing since he asked whether they should continue on. They did not have long to wait before an arrow sailed into the leaves and landed with a thunk into a branch several feet below them. Another whizzed past them, but when it failed to meet a mark, it dropped back to the ground.

  “Come out now or risk my arrow finding you,” called the gruff Norse voice.

  Tyra and Bjorn did not move.

  “Very well. Your funeral.”

  Se
veral other arrows soared into the leaves, a few coming too close for comfort.

  “I shall just wait down here. You can’t stay up there forever. You must come down, and I’ll be here to greet you.”

  Bjorn gestured to himself and then pointed down. Tyra glared at him and fisted his shirt. She mouthed the word “no.”

  “Stay,” Bjorn mouthed.

  Tyra tugged on his shirt, but he kissed her.

  “I love you. You will always come first. I will die before I stop protecting you.” He whispered in her ear.

  Tyra’s face crumpled as she tried to keep Bjorn from shifting to stand on the branch below them. She watched Bjorn grip the hilt of her knife between his teeth as he moved toward to the ground. He stayed close to the trunk where the branches were sturdier and kept him hidden, his tan clothes blending with the bark.

  “Good choice,” called the man from the ground.

  Bjorn spotted the veritable giant looking at him, bow and arrow pointing toward him. The man had the arrow notched and the string drawn back. Bjorn glanced up at Tyra once more before swinging from one branch to another, making it difficult for their pursuer to maintain his aim. Bjorn moved along a branch, his hands holding the one above him as his feet slid over the notches and bark. He was as close as he dared get without the man having a clear shot. He took a deep breath before jumping toward the giant Norseman. Bjorn was already drawing his fist back as he tackled the other man. He slammed it into the man’s face, using his own substantial weight to keep the man from drawing enough air back into his lungs after the fall knocked it from him. Bjorn’s mind would not shake the image of Tyra’s face before he left her above. He pummeled the man until he would never stand again, would never threaten Tyra again. He reached for the knife he let fall from his mouth as he left the tree. He slid it across the man’s throat just to be sure. Bjorn would not leave any man alive who might harm Tyra.