A-Viking (Betrayed by Faith Book 3)

by Paul C. Middleton

  He was responding automatically. The person who was on the piece of rock that broke off the cliff might be hurt. Then one of the young people, a man, still on the level spoke up.

  “Do you have an emergency beacon? Ours is in her pack.” Griffin shook his head, and the young man started swearing.

  Griffin ignored him. The young man was obviously focused on receiving outside help that wasn’t coming. The other member of that group was standing there with her mouth open in shock and would be no help. Griffin looked around the edges of the lookout. There! He spotted a section that, while having a few vertical portions, was mostly a seventy-degree slope, so should be climbable on the way back. He could get down and back up there.

  “Where are you going?” asked the young man

  “To see what I can do to help her,” Griffin responded as he started the descent.

  “You’ll never make…” faded into the distance as Griffin quickly descended to the flatter area and made his way around to the rockfall area. Within ten minutes of traveling through the light scrub and rough terrain, he had reached her. He immediately started removing the small rocks and loose earth from around her body.

  He squeezed her shoulder once it was completely cleared, and she groaned and shifted. Good, there was some level of consciousness.

  “Hey there, what’s your name sweetie? I’m Griffin. You had a bit of a fall, but we’re gonna get you out of here, okay?” he said in a soothing tone

  “Ohhhhh…” she groaned again. Griffin moved to keep excavating her. It could get cold quickly up here. The sooner she could walk or be carried the better. Even with the risk of exacerbating injuries, exposure was a greater danger. After he had dug her out, he removed her pack. Griffin gently placed her flat on her back and checked her for injuries. She had a bump on her head and numerous cuts and grazes but seemed to be okay otherwise.

  He then caught a whiff of burnt pine from the girl. With it was the odor there was no other way to describe except as power amongst the surrounding smells. He always smelt that when what he now knew as Godsborn were drawing on their power. So far, everyone he’d encountered had been different in the smell they gave off as they drew on the planes.

  He froze. He really was a weapon. On reflex, he almost reached down to snap her neck. When he caught the reflex, he stopped it cold. Taking a deep breath, he paused, needing to focus on the best way to get her out of here. He did not need to kick himself over that response. The centuries of violence, of hunting these beings, made it a conditioned response. Besides, he had controlled it. Now was not the time to focus on his past.

  Pushing aside his emotions Griffin took off his jacket and lay it over her while he went into her pack for the beacon. When he found it near the top, case cracked and obviously not working, he burst out “Fucking hand-jacked mule.” A large jagged piece of rock had punched through it. Good from one perspective. The piece of rock wasn’t through her. Bad from the viewpoint they were now on their own. The only people on the track today were all nearby.

  Then he heard her moving next to him.

  He turned around to see her rousing. He knelt beside her and softly said, “What’s your name, sweetie? You had a bit of a fall, but you’re going to be alright.”

  Groggily she replied, “Brianna… who are you?”

  “I’m Griffin. Now I need to check you're okay, then we’ll figure out how to get you back up to the path. Are you okay if I touch your arms, legs, and ankles to check them? I need to figure out if you require someone to carry you or not. And how to sling you if you do.”

  “I... guess” Brianna replied, looking uncomfortable, but trusting him to behave like a gentleman.

  He quickly and professionally put light pressure on her arms above and below the elbow, and at every joint. He repeated that for her legs, and when he reached her left ankle, she gasped in pain. Griffin sighed, regretfully. There went the easy way back. He quickly pulled out a bandage to wrap the ankle. Then went searching around for three straight sticks he could splint the ankle with so it wouldn’t bother her as much when she was carried up on his back. When he returned, he found her trying to stand up. Through the determination on her face, he finally saw how pretty she was.

  She was a lithe lass, with blond hair and a Finnish cast of face. Her blonde hair was tied back in a short ponytail that looked like it would be a clear blonde when not covered in dust. She ripped the elastic from her hair and staggered as her ankle refused to support her weight. He’d been so focused on making sure she had no serious injuries he hadn’t really looked at her. Rushing forward he took her weight. He inspected her, the person, as he did.

  She was about five foot six, with gently wavy blond hair to the middle of her back. While she wasn’t busty, she was obviously fit and had attractive curves. It brought back a pang as he saw the several similarities between her and Agatha. Her build at least. The regrets he felt for his damaged relationship with Agatha slammed into his head and heart without warning. He’d probably destroyed even the hope of friendship with her when he reacted so badly after finding out the truth. The rest seemed to understand the roiling mix of emotion that brought out his rage, but his apprentice had not. The memory of her reaction flashed through his mind again. He could still feel the sting of her contempt as strongly as if she were present now. He fought down a wave of self-loathing, shook himself, and focused on the now.

  “Sweetie, don’t try to stand. You will just make it worse. Let me splint it and figure out a harness to get you up to the top again.”

  “But what about the beacon? With that we should be able to…” she started, but Griffin cut her off by pointing to it and the hole in the top of the pack.

  “It is now a piece of plastic junk I’m afraid. You just stay where you are and let me figure this out. I’ll get you back up to the top in one piece. I promise.”

  As he worked on her ankle, he noticed she kept glancing at his armored shirt. He swore softly and took it off without thinking. Body armor was almost unheard of in Australia, and this close it was obvious what he was wearing. Besides, he would likely have to carry her out on an improvised rig so he wouldn’t want to be wearing the armour while trying to climb with her on his back. He’d have enough problems without adding to them.

  Her eyes grew wider when she saw his birthmark, but it seemed to calm her.

  “Is it okay if I put this in your pack for the trip back up?” He asked.

  “Sure” she replied, suddenly shy with a slight blush. Griffin shook his head internally. Not something he would be any part of no matter what his other brain said. He deserved to go without intimacy for a good long time after his crimes against people like her.

  “Can I use some of the clothes from your pack to pad the rope when I make the sling Brianna?” She nodded shyly.

  Griffin got to work arranging the knots that formed the sling so he could tighten them from the front. As he was padding what would become the shoulder straps, he found a toggle rope in her bag. That would make things easier, he could tie that to their packs and pull them along behind. While working on this, he grabbed out protein bars and water out for both of them. Brianna just nibbled on her bar like a mouse but drank all the water, gulping until Griffin cautioned her to sip.

  As he finished putting together the sling, his ear tingled, and he heard what seemed to be a distant shout of “Are you okay down there” from the man who had tried to stop him earlier.

  Then there was silence, and his ear stopped tingling.

  He quickly got Brianna in the sling and on his back. His jacket tucked between them and several of her t-shirts padding along the ropes on his shoulders and chest. There was the sharp odor of pine emanating from them. Passing an end of the toggle rope for dragging the packs to her Griffin said, “Tell me when it gets taut, and I’ll pull it up behind us. Ready?”

  “Yup,” she answered with some cheer in her voice. He shook his head with a smile.

  “Let's go!”

  They took nearly two
hours to approach the top, about a thousand feet from where they started. When they were about thirty feet, Brianna yelled, “David, ‘Nia, can you tie a rope to something and throw it down?”

  Griffin thumped his ear, ringing from the sudden shout. “Give a guy a bit of warning will you?” he said, mock glaring at her. She blushed again, then grinned at him.

  “On its way.” The male, David, shouted back, his head peeking over the edge of the cliff closest to them. Within a minute there was a rope a few yards ahead. Griffin pulled up to that point and tied the two rope ends together so they could haul the packs up after he had Brianna at the top of the cliff. He carefully dried his hands and started going up the rope hand over hand, bracing his legs against the cliff wall. In about five minutes he was at the top, and two pairs of hands grabbed him, helping him over the edge with Brianna.

  He lifted off the ground slightly to loosen the MacGyvered harness and let Brianna off his back. Once she was free, he took off the rope torture device and lay on his back, sucking in air for a time. She crawled up next to him and whispered, “Rest now, Odinson, you have achieved your goal. We will get you to a campsite.”

  Before the surprise at her knowing his heritage could hit him he was out like a light.

  Six Foot Track, Australia, Evening of March 3, 2014.

  As Griffin slowly returned to awareness, he stifled any noise and kept his eyes closed. Something felt wrong. He’d climbed the cliff with Brianna on his back, then laid down to catch his breath. Now it was night, he was on his camp bed, and he could hear hushed conversation off to his left. He focused on listening in and found it surprisingly easy

  “We can’t let him go, Brianna. Best case he’s one of the Lost. If he is, he has to go to one of the lesser Conclaves or Nowhere Town. If he’s one of the Norskringar, either he comes with us, or he dies. We can’t let them find out about Nowhere Town. They’ll strike for sure. The only lesser Conclave they’ll leave alone is the Einherjer, and only because they fear the berserkers.” He recognized David’s voice.

  “No! He’s a good man. He may not even know his heritage, so why interfere? Let him go on his way at the end of the track. It’s not as if he can be sure what we are. At worst, he’s got suspicions. Besides, he only has a trickle of power. He’s probably a fifth generation or lower, right ‘Nia?” Brianna responded heatedly

  “That’s not what I said, Lady. I said he had only used a level of power to be expected for a Fifther or even more removed from the original line. It's not like I see all he can draw, only what he is. I can say he is superb at using what he draws. He does it unconsciously, it seems. It hasn’t stopped in all the time he has been out.”

  “It’s beside the point. The current Odin has wanted dominion over the lesser Conclaves for centuries, and no-one has challenged him. He carried one of the Nine. He has…“ David continued in a flat voice.

  “Oh, bullshit. We know they are missing more than half of the Nine Axes of Irminsil. The Paladins have some, and at least two are lost.” Briana retorted. “Besides, how do you know?”

  “If the Axe were a mock-up, my knife would have been able to mark it. And now you bring it up, what if he was one of the Paladins hmm? What then? He might figure out what we are and hunt us down. I can’t think of many people who would wear ballistic armor." He said reasonably

  There was a snort from the older woman. “David, enough. Now, I know what your aim is. You’re trying to convince us to kill him just in case. Out of jealousy. Because he saved Brianna by acting rather than assessing the risks first. Your pride is hurt, Thorson. Well, grow up. Your father may have been of Thor’s line, but you obviously gained little of his nature. If he were a Paladin either he or all three of us would be dead.”

  There was a snarl from David. At that, Griffin opened his eyes. He wouldn’t leave two women, one injured, to deal with an enraged fool. He rolled to his feet eyes, darting around to look for anything to use as a weapon. There was nothing he could use in easy reach. The young man was raising the axe to strike at the older woman, his face flushed with anger. Sighing internally, he felt confident enough he could disarm the young fool if he could just get his attention.

  “Brave enough to threaten an unconscious man and an injured woman are ye, mewling infant? I’ve seen farts with more courage than you! They smelt better too.” He roared.

  The young man’s anger grew. His face went white with rage. “Fool. You have no weapon and obviously, do not understand what I am.” A sneer formed on his face. “I have no idea how much you’ve heard, so now I have to kill you. I should thank you for giving me the excuse.” With that, he charged Griffin. To Griffin, it was a clumsy and obvious attack. He saw David shift his grip to swing an underhand blow. He stepped low into the charge, grabbed the axe at the haft with one hand and used the other one to send the boy over his head. David was forced to let go of the axe because of his own momentum or suffer a dislocation on his good arm.

  David rolled to his feet and approached more cautiously this time. His eyes flitted back and forth searching around for something to use as a weapon. He ran for the firewood pile and picked up a piece that might make a decent cudgel.

  “You got lucky, imbecile,” David sneered.

  Griffin was amused by David’s poor attempt at an insult. His fighting wasn’t much better. David seemed to think he was facing someone his age, but Griffin was far older. He yawned, taunting the boy. Only someone who had seen no real violence let anger control him like this. Contempt for a foe, in training or otherwise, led to mistakes. When David attacked again, he sidestepped the blow and used the axe to trip him. Quickly pivoting, he used his off hand to grab the boy’s foot and lift him clear off the ground. When the enraged younger man swung the club at him, Griffin blocked with his axe haft across the knuckles. The pup dropped the club with a yelp.

  The sprout tried to punch at his chest while in the air, but such blows lack force.

  After a couple of minutes trying to dislodge Griffin’s grip by hitting his chest, David switched to kicking Griffin’s hand. Griffin dropped him on his head before the blow landed. Quickly he put the overconfident stripling in an arm lock with his knee pressed sharply into the younger man’s spine. He looked at the women, and over the knave’s sputtering said, “Either you get me some rope to tie him up, or it will be a long and uncomfortable night for us all.”

  Both of the women were looking at him in total shock. Suddenly Griffin was thrown back. The young man had a twisted look on his face that Griffin had seen before when fighting for the Order. He instinctively drew a protective barrier around himself just before a bolt of lightning sizzled towards him. It shattered against Griffin’s shield.

  The little shit-for-brains looked shocked that Griffin was still standing at all. Griffin then had time to notice that the brat’s right arm was dislocated. Good.

  “I wouldn’t play with that if I were you, youngster. So far I haven’t tried to hurt you, and you’ve come off second best. You keep escalating, and you may leave me no choice," Griffin said with confidence that he didn’t really feel. The air smelt of ozone, but also fired steel and herbs. The herbs were the strongest odor.

  “Now so you don’t try anything else stupid, whippersnapper.” Griffin calmly walked up to him and hit him on the side of the neck while he was still in shock, knocking the boy out. He looked around the campsite for his pack and saw it next to his camp bed. Thankfully, his rope was next to it. He grabbed up the rope, and as a second thought grabbed an old t-shirt from his pack.

  Walking over to the unconscious David, he tied him up, wrists to ankles behind his back, and covered his face with the T-shirt. He muttered, “That should keep you from trouble, for a while at least.”

  He then picked the axe up and put it next to his backpack.

  When he turned back around ‘Nia had a long knife drawn, and was watching him. Warily, standing between Griffin and Brianna.

  “Oh please. If I wished to harm you, I would have waited until David had
attacked you and then attacked all of you from behind. Instead, I drew his attention. What would be the point in me attacking you now? I even put my weapon away.” Griffin said in a calm and reasonable tone.

  “Who are you?” ‘Nia hissed

  “As I already told Brianna, my name is Griffin. I’m simply a-viking, trying to find myself. To rebuild after a time of turmoil.”

  Brianna winced when he used the word ‘a-viking.' ‘Nia tensed and carefully followed him as he moved around to find a log to sit on. He kept his hands visible to show he was no threat. He sat down and said, “Go on, ask. I’ll answer if I can. If you put that knife away and sit down. I hate conversing with an implied threat over me.”

  ‘Nia blinked and blurted out. “Who are you? I mean not just your name, but what is your history?”

  Griffin sat there waiting, eventually raising an eloquent eyebrow as ‘Nia still stood there, knife in hand. Sighing, she slowly sheathed the blade and sat down.

  “Please understand what I tell you is my past, not my present. Definitely not my future.”

  “I was raised and trained in the Order as a Paladin and was their Champion for the last century or so.” When he said that, they both tensed and looked as if preparing to run. Griffin continued calmly, “If I still served the Order and had been sent after you, you would all be dead already. I was sent after a group of Ayjptos. Things were going badly until someone showed up and pulled what was left of my team out of the fire. I was unconscious at the time, so I have no real idea of what happened. Since then I’ve learned some… hard truths, my heritage amongst them. I did not take it well.”

  He was silent for a time contemplating his past. Suddenly the smells of burnt pine and cinnamon hovered in the air, and it made his nose itch. He scratched it, then sneezed.