Tyra & Bjorn (Viking Glory Book 3)

by Celeste Barclay

  Tyra scrambled down the tree, and she launched herself as he reached up to help her down. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. Her sobs rattled her slim frame. She squeezed her legs tighter as though she feared he might try to put her down. He stroked her hair and rubbed her back until she leaned back and cupped his face.

  Tyra looked into Bjorn’s eyes, searching for something she could not name. The love and tenderness she found reassured her. There was a fearlessness and steadfastness that was always present in Bjorn, but it somehow meant so much more now. She pressed her mouth to his as she poured all the love she possessed into that kiss. She did not cry often, but she had been so afraid Bjorn would not live to hold her, kiss her, love her again. Tyra experienced rage unlike anything she had ever known before grow within her chest as she watched her fellow Norseman aim his bow at Bjorn, willing to betray them for money from a Scotsman, the one willing to supply Grímr with warriors. She had been ready to avenge Bjorn’s death. She had seen the man’s face before hurtling herself into Bjorn’s arms. The damage Bjorn had done paled in comparison to what she was prepared to do had the man killed Bjorn. Tyra had been angry before and recognized the sensation of bloodlust coursing through her, a sensation she discovered when she entered her first fight. But what happened moments ago made her understand the trance-like state a berserker entered. She was sure she was there until Bjorn drew the knife across the dead man’s throat. Tyra pulled back from Bjorn and brushed his hair back before laying her forehead against his. Neither had words, and there was no need. When Tyra’s confidence in her ability to stand without collapsing returned, she dropped to the ground. She stepped around Bjorn to look once more at the dead man. She spat on his face before drawing her booted foot back and kicking his head.

  “Níðingr.” Disgraced, honorless man.

  Bjorn stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

  “I am glad you knocked his bow from his hands. Let him rot for eternity. He deserved to die with no weapon in his hand.”

  They both stood staring at the man as blood pooled around his head. Bjorn understood Tyra’s anger. He experienced the same emotion when he pictured her being in danger, and he was just as disgusted at the man below him. Had the dead Norseman been fighting for only Grímr, even on foreign soil, they would have respected him as a warrior, but Bjorn overheard what Tyra had. The man fought for money from a Christian, supported a Christian. That was unforgivable.

  “Come. We have to leave before the other three wonder why he isn’t following them.” Bjorn whispered.

  Tyra nodded. She grabbed the bow and quiver before rounding up the arrows that had fallen back to the ground. Bjorn pulled the man’s sword loose and checked for more knives. He strapped the sword on and gave Tyra a knife he found along with the one she lent him. He tucked two more into his belt.

  Tyra faced the direction the men headed then turned to her right, pointing in front of her. It was the general direction they traveled from the day before, but it was far enough from the trail, that both Bjorn and Tyra were confident they would not run into Grímr’s men without warning.

  Eleven

  Tyra and Bjorn moved through the forest on silent feet, listening for any disturbances, even ones that were animals. They strained their ears for any warning the woodland critters would offer. They walked with enough space between them to fight off an attack from any direction or run without tripping over each other. The sun was moving overhead, but the tight leaf canopy kept the heat from pounding onto them. It was dim, but far more was visible than during the midnight dash. Their heads were on a swivel as they stayed alert, never letting their guard down. By midmorning, they came to the edge of the forest. The land dropped into a steep but narrow ridge, and the crag they stood on threatened to break off with their weight. Across from them was a mountain that had little foliage growing on it and seemed to be made from loose rocks and dirt. They stepped back and looked around. To their distant right was the trail their captors had used, and to their far left was the Ross keep. Neither found the trail nor the castle. Bjorn and Tyra had no way to estimate distance, so they were unsure whether either posed an immediate threat. They found where the crag ended, and a solid land bridge led to the foot of the mountain.

  “What now?” Tyra asked.

  “I haven’t a clue.”

  They looked over the ledge again as stones skidded down until they landed in the stream that ran through the base of the ridge. Tyra tried to remember if Lorna had described anything like this when she helped Tyra make the maps.

  “I think the woods led us to the Ben Wyvis Lorna told me about. She only mentioned and pointed to where they would be on the map. She didn’t tell me they were actual mountains.”

  “I doubt she imagined we would ever come near them. Do you remember where they are in relation to where we entered Ross land?”

  Tyra tried to remember, but Lorna had not given her many details.

  “I remember she said there was a forest at its base, so that must be what we passed through if we are now looking at the mountains. Regardless of which direction we take, it will be a long way to traverse.”

  “What’s on the other side?”

  “Lochs, I think, and then eventually the wrong coast.”

  “So what do we do? Climb up and survey what surrounds us, or do we try to orient ourselves based on what you remember?”

  “Climb. Lorna only mentioned it in passing. I’m not even sure this is Ben Wyvis.”

  Bjorn looked at Tyra, proud of her tenacity but concerned about her endurance. He cupped her jaw.

  “Don’t worry about me, Bjorn. I can make it.”

  “I always worry about you. Don’t you know that yet?”

  “Worse than an old woman.”

  “And you’re stuck with me.”

  “Hurry, and you can show me how you stick to me.”

  Tyra laughed as she turned toward the end of the ridge. They walked hand in hand, almost like a regular couple not trying to avoid recapture. When they came to the base of the mountain, they realized it was feasible to scramble up it, but it would leave them exposed to anyone looking in their direction.

  “We use caution while we climb. Anyone looking this direction will spot us before we do them. We’ll have to keep an eye out even before we get to the summit,” Bjorn continued to look around. Being out in the open made him uncomfortable, but they had few choices left to them. “We have several hours of climbing, and it may be dark by the time we reach the summit. Are you prepared to spend the night in the open?”

  “We haven’t much choice. It’ll be safer for us at the summit even if it’s going to be cold.”

  “You go up first. If you slip, I’ll catch you.”

  “And if you slip?” Tyra glared at him. “Why do you think I would accept you being in danger any more than you’re willing to accept it for me?”

  “Because I’m bigger than you, my wee beastie. I rather like that. Suits you,” he grinned before lifting her off her feet and hoisting her onto the mountainside where she began to climb. She kicked loose shale onto Bjorn.

  “Whoopsie.”

  Bjorn growled playfully.

  “You’d better reach the top before I catch up.”

  “Perhaps I want you to catch me.”

  Bjorn opened his mouth to say “about time,” but he snapped it shut before he ruined the moment. Instead, he looked around now that they were several feet from the ground.

  “I don’t see anything. Do you?”

  “No.”

  They continued to climb, stopping every couple hundred feet to look at their surroundings. They observed nothing until they were higher than the tree line of the forest where they had hid. Once they were above the trees, they had a clear view well into the distance. Bjorn and Tyra discovered small lochs scattered around the far side of the mountain. They did not notice any movement, smoke, or metal glinting in the sun, reassuring them that they
were alone, as best they could tell. They walked and scrambled for the rest of the morning and all of the afternoon. Tyra estimated it took them six hours to reach the summit even though it was not a very high mountain. The uneven terrain meant they had to use caution when they chose their footing and inch along parts of the mountain until they found more even paths. When they reached the summit, they had the clear view they needed, but they were both thirsty and hungry. Neither had eaten or drunk anything in over a day. Tyra became lightheaded from dehydration and the altitude. She was sure there was movement on the far side of the mountain, but she rubbed her eyes to find there was nothing there.

  “I thought I saw it, too,” Bjorn stood beside her.

  “We’ll have to wait to learn if there is anyone’s there, and if so, whether they are friend or foe. But I suspect it’s the altitude and hunger.”

  Bjorn pulled his shirt over his head and put it on Tyra despite her protests.

  “You’re cold,” he whittled.

  “And you will be, too.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “So am I.”

  “Tyra,” he warned.

  “Bjorn,” she snapped before closing her eyes. When she opened them, her sense of calm had returned. “You are always taking care of me. You’ve kept me alive. Please let me do the same for you. It bothers me that I’ll be comfortable when you’re at risk of freezing. I can’t accept that.”

  Bjorn saw the pleading in her eyes as much as he heard it in her voice. He nodded once and took his shirt back.

  “Then let’s find a spot furthest out of the wind until we figure out what to do next.”

  The mountaintop was flat, more like a plateau, so they did not have to worry about slipping to their deaths. There was little to keep them from being exposed to the elements, so they traveled down the far side of the mountain until they came to aspen, birch, and rowan trees scattered about. They cut low branches from the aspen trees, and while they did not provide as good protection as evergreens, they would build a lean-to of sorts. They picked berries from the rowan tree even though they would be tart. It was that or go hungry for at least another day. When they returned to the summit, they worked together to prop the branches they carried into an overlapping mat. They lifted it together and slid below it, using their backs to keep it up. The branches were just long enough to reach over their heads if they huddled. It had been a struggle to drag them to the top even though it had not been a far walk down. When the wind whipped across the plateau that night, they would be glad to have the meager shelter.

  Bjorn and Tyra watched a spectacular sunset from their vantage point upon the mountain. They wrapped their arms around one another as they shared their body heat. It surprised Bjorn how much heat Tyra exuded once he held her close to him. She was almost overheated, and he was comfortable. As Bjorn relaxed next to Tyra, his mind wandered, and he wished it had not. Questions rattled around as he contemplated why it took them so long to admit they loved one another.

  “What are you contemplating?” Tyra murmured. “I can tell you’re trying to work through something.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “I don’t know. I just sense it. You seem relaxed but unsettled at the same time, if that’s possible.”

  Bjorn tried to make the muscles in his back release the tension he held, but all he ended up doing was shifting about.

  “I can’t seem to get certain questions out of my head.”

  Tyra stilled. “I’m guessing those questions are not about how we’re going to find the others.”

  “No. They’re not.”

  Tyra tilted her head back to look at Bjorn, and found trepidation rather than curiosity. She offered him a peck before tucking her head against his chest. She tightened her hold around his waist and snuggled as close as possible, lest she climb into his lap. Bjorn assumed this was her assent to him discussing their past.

  “It seems natural to hold you now, and to kiss you whenever I want. I wasn’t confident we would get to this point. I understand why the misunderstanding happened; I just don’t know why you remained angry for so long.”

  It was a fair thing for Bjorn to question, but she did not have an answer that seemed reasonable anymore.

  “At first, I was so hurt and disappointed and angry. I was convinced I meant nothing to you. I could not stand looking at you or being near you. It hurt so much. Then I was forced to watch you with other women, and that seemed to confirm my impressions. I meant nothing to you. I decided you were selfish and self-centered. At least where it concerned me. I struggled to reconcile the man I love and know you to be, with the man I was so sure you were with me, or toward me. So I grew angrier. When you didn’t approach me again, I couldn’t get past that hurt, so my grudge continued on until it just became normal. I was jealous, as well. Consumed with jealousy every time you were with another woman or one talked about you. Then two years ago, when the rumors trailed off, I was relieved, but a crueler side rejoiced, imagining that women no longer wanted you. I look back now, and I realize how patient you were with me when I can’t imagine any other man being like that.”

  “I was patient because I could tell you were hurting and angry. I just never imagined it was only over me. You seemed to move on, perhaps not with many men, but you smiled and laughed when I wanted to crawl into a hole. That same consuming jealousy burned in me whenever a man flirted with you, and I was miserable those years you were with Knud. I wanted you to find happiness, but gods, how I wanted to kill him. I wanted to rip him apart for being the man who got to hold you, to talk to you, to just look at you every day. I was so miserable that I no longer wanted to pretend. I couldn’t. I didn’t want anyone if it wasn’t you. I gave up hoping I would ever win you over, but I also gave up wanting to find someone to replace you. Substitutes just didn’t work. It was only when I was drunk and lonely, or at feasts when I was sure I was the only one who didn’t have someone, that I give in and bed a woman. But you heard them. It was always you who I wanted, who consumed my mind and my heart. It was your name I called out. It was you in the dark.”

  “What about after our talk on the dock? You went to Gunnhild,” Tyra’s hushed tones carried hurt Bjorn wished he had never caused.

  “I didn’t go to her. We passed each other, and I followed her. It was one of those times where I was so alone. I failed you, as a friend and certainly as anything more. Then you swam out to me, and we seemed to make progress. When I said I didn’t want to make the same mistake twice, I meant I wasn’t going to make love to you outside where anyone might find us. I wanted to be somewhere you deserved. You didn’t give me the chance to say that, and that rejection was more than I could take that day.” Bjorn scrubbed his hands over his face. “I didn’t bed her. She touched me and holding you against me already had me aroused. It had been so long that it didn’t take much. I tried to stop her, but my body was already three steps ahead of my mind. She was well aware I had you on my mind. We fought about it. I knew after that that I would rather be celibate than live with the guilt.”

  Tyra ran her hand over Bjorn’s chest as she listened to him. It made sense. All of it. She had not considered bedding a man since she broke things off with Knud. Fritjof would have been the first man in well over a year.

  “But Tyra, I sense there is more. You were sure I was self-centered and that my ego was too big, but that doesn’t explain why you were convinced I was selfish. What did I take from others that I wasn’t willing to give back?”

  “Some of it was my selfishness. When I noticed a woman you favored, who I feared would be more than a passing interest, I was angry that you found that first. That you would fall in love and marry before I did. I also know what you preferred.”

  “One I pretended was you.”

  Tyra laughed and shook her head.

  “That was not what I thought. I know they’re the ones who spoke of settling down and getting married. That they accepted giving up being a shieldmaiden and being left behind. I thought y
ou were selfish to expect someone to do that. To leave them behind.”

  Bjorn tilted his head back as understanding took hold. He shifted his position and lifted Tyra into his lap. The branches fell, but he did not care. He needed to be closer to her, and short of stripping away her clothes and making love to her outside, once again, this was the best he would get.

  “You feared I would abandon you to go on great adventures. You feared I would leave you behind like your father did when he sailed away but did not return.”

  Tyra sniffled as she fought back tears. It would be the second time that day she cried, and it seemed illogical to cry if her reason for being angry was not wanting to give up being a shieldmaiden. She despised being weak. Bjorn tucked hair behind her ear and lifted her chin.

  “I understand your fear. It’s been the same way with everyone I have cared about my entire life. At least as long as I can remember. My father came here, and while he returned, I was never with him again. He and my mother died while I stayed with Ivar and Lena. I’ve battled the guilt that I didn’t die along with them.”

  “Bjorn, you were just a child. What could you have done? You have suffered more than any of us realized. I figured out that the risks you took were not to show off or prove yourself, but a hope that you might join your parents. I didn’t like that risk taking either. I understand now why you were doing it, but it came across as selfish to me that you would leave us, me, behind.”

  “Ty, I had no intention of asking you, or expecting you, to remain behind. Just the opposite. I’ve always wanted you by my side. To consider sailing without you makes me sick with fear. When I feared you might die, I wanted to give up. The only thing that kept me going was the possibility that you might live, and I would miss being near you. I can’t leave you behind. I can’t imagine how we will ever have a family because I don’t want to travel without you, but I would never let you travel while you’re carrying, and someone would have to stay home with our children. I also wouldn’t let you go without me because I’m terrified no one would protect you well enough.”