by T S Florence
“On the horse, now!” Skald ordered, as he ran to the horse. He cut the rope that tied the horse to the tree, rather than bothering to untie it.
He pulled Freya onto the horse, more carelessly than he would have liked. He dug his heels into the horse’s belly, whipping the reins down, causing it to catapult forwards, toward freedom. As the horse leaped into action, he felt an arrow brush past his side, leaving the shelter that the trees surrounding the cottage had provided.
Skald pushed Freya down against the horse’s head, as a man charged at them from their side. He pulled out his bow, trusting his precision at high speeds, and let the arrow loose, which found its target through the highlander’s eye.
Several more men pulled out of the trees, but they were now behind Freya and Skald. They did not pursue them, but instead checked on their man who had fallen from his horse, for they did not see that he was already dead.
Freya
“Are you hurt?” Freya asked, as the held onto Skald’s arm, which was tight around her stomach.
“I’m fine, I’m not sure about the other two men,” Skald said mildly.
“I’ve never seen a man to act so calm during a fight,” Freya said, as she run her hand up and down his muscled arm.
“It’s a blessing, really,” Skald said.
“How?” Freya asked, curious.
“Men make mistakes when they are excited. And mistakes can cost lives in situations like that,” Skald said.
“Do you think I made mistakes the day your men attacked mine?” Freya asked, almost not asking the question, for she feared the answer.
“No. You were faced with an impossible task,” Skald said.
“What was that?” Freya asked.
“You were in possession of Ivar’s princess. You had the greatest war lord of all the lands coming to get her back, with an army of men that had never seen defeat in battle, myself included,” Skald said.
Freya felt somehow reassured by his words, almost as if there was never anything she could have done to stop the force of men that Skald had arrived with on that fateful day.
“I might never have seen you if it weren’t for that day,” Freya mumbled.
“Maybe. Or maybe it would have just taken me longer to find you,” Skald said. She felt him rubbing his hand up and down her body as they rode, causing her stomach to feel a comforting warmth.
“I feel like I’ve found home with you,” Freya said, leaning her head back against his chest.
She turned her head to look out across the vast, rocky landscape. She was sure that there were men still following them, though she could not see them, for they were not riding as hard as they needed to. She guessed they were simply hoping that eventually the pair of them will have nowhere left to go, resulting in them giving up.
“Are we going to be able to sleep tonight?” Freya asked Skald.
“Only if the Sutherlands don’t kill us,” Skald replied.
“The Mackenzies said they were bad men,” Freya said quietly.
“And the Mackenzies are bad men themselves, so I don’t put too much weight on their opinions of other clans,” Skald replied.
“Do you think Jack and Ragnar are ok?” Freya asked Skald.
“They wanted me and you more than them, so I think they probably got away without being chased.” Skald said.
“You have an answer for everything,” Freya said, enjoying that anything she asked him, she received a thoughtful answer. She noticed that with other men, when women asked them too many questions, they would become irritated and tell hem to stop talking.
“I think too much, so I have probably already asked myself,” Skald said, holding her.
“What do you think about,” Freya asked.
“My next move, mostly,” Skald said.
“I used to do that. I’m glad I no longer have to think so much,” Freya said.
They stopped for a short break by a river with a strong current. Freya walked out until she the water was halfway to her knees, crouching a little to steady herself, due to the current pulling her sideways over the slippery rocks. Her world turned upside down as the current tipped her backwards. Icy water sent a shock through her body as she fell beneath the surface. Suddenly she was fighting to get her head back above water. She felt her body spinning around, her head bashing against the rocks on the bottom of the river.
She felt cold water going up her nose, the stinging sensation sending alarm to her brain. She put her feet down, in an attempt to stand up, causing her foot to get caught in the crevasse of two rocks. Pain erupted in her ankle, as she felt her body twist, while her foot stayed stuck. Her lungs were starting to burn as she fought against all instinct to try and gulp for air, knowing it would result in only breathing in water, which she had seen kill men before.
A strong hand gripped around her leg, and she felt the pressure release from her foot. Two hands then gripped around her body pulling her head back above the surface. Skald’s face, framed by his wet, scraggly hair, showed a display of determination as he swam to the edge of the river, with Freya in his arms.
“I thought I was going to die,” Freya gasped, as she began to sob against his chest.
“What were you doing, stepping so deep into the stream?” Skald asked, his voice growling with anger.
“Don’t get mad at me because I slipped,” Freya shot back, feeling attacked.
“You could have died,” Skald growled.
“I’m aware of that. I am the one who nearly died,” Freya clipped.
She pushed off his chest in an attempt to stand, but a sharp pain erupted in her ankle, causing her to cry out in pain.
“Is it your foot?” Skald asked, his face showing a concern that Freya had never seen before.
“It’s my ankle,” she mumbled, looking at him hopelessly.
She saw a movement in the bushes behind him, causing her to gasp in surprise. Before she could warn Skald, he pushed her backwards onto the bank of the river, away from harm, and rolled towards her. A blade hit the ground directly where they had just been lying. Their horse and all of their equipment was too far away, and skald was weaponless, wearing only his pants.
He jumped to his feet, standing in front of Freya. Her vision of the attacker was blocked by Skald’s broad back, a slab of muscle, contorting and retracting as he breathed, and sized up his adversary.
The man swung again, but this time Skald leaned back, leaving the blade to swing harmlessly past his front.
“You shouldn’t have come alone,” Skald said, his gaze fixed on the highlander.
The man did not answer, but swung again, this time swinging the blade horizontally, in an attempt to cut through Skald’s stomach. Skald jumped backwards, the blade just missing his stomach, but before the man could reground himself, skald had jumped in, wrapping his hand around the man’s sword arm, and began head butting the Scot.
He head butted the man several more times, causing him to fall to his knees. He then grabbed the man by his hair, stomping on the sword, rendering him harmless, and began to uppercut into his face, until he was a bloody mess, lying on his back, unmoving.
Skald turned around, his hands and face covered in Highlander blood.
“Those last few punches were a little unnecessary,” Freya said, looking at him.
“Jumping into that river is unnecessary,” Skald snapped back at her, picking her up, and walking over, putting her down by the horse, to dress her.
Skald
Skald was annoyed at himself snapping at Freya simply because she slipped in the river. He knew it was not her fault, for it is sometimes hard to judge a river’s current just by the look of it, and the current mixed with the slippery rocks has been responsible for plenty of deaths. The thought of losing Freya filled him with a fear he had not felt since he was seven years old, when he watched his parents get slaughtered like animals by terrible savages.
As they took off down the path, Freya was not resting into him like she normal did, instead,
she was sitting rigidly in her spot holding the horses neck, rather than his arm. He put his hand on her arm, which was met with a firm push by Freya.
“What’s the matter?” Skald asked.
“You spoke to me like a child. I don’t even see you speak to your enemies with a tone like you used with me, after you rescued me from the river. You snapped at me after you left that highlander to die by the riverbank,” Freya retorted.
“Because my enemies do not make me feel anything,” Skald replied.
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Freya said, attempting to turn around to face him, and almost slipping off the horse.
“Gods crying, Freya” Skald growled as he caught her, pulling her back onto the horse, before continuing “Are you trying to die today?” He asked.
“If I’m such a nuisance why don’t you just throw me from the horse and leave me for the highlanders,” Freya snapped.
“I don’t think they’d want you, after all, they have already sold you off once,” Skald said, immediately regretting his response. Even despite his feelings for Freya, he was still used to his callous way of talking to others, with a disregard for their feelings.
“Fuck you,” Freya said to Skald.
“That’s no way to speak-” Skald began to say, before Freya cut him off.
“Stop talking, Skald,” Freya said.
“I’ll stop talking if you let me put my arm around you. I don’t want to almost lose you for a third time today,” Skald said, choosing to surrender, rather than make her any angrier.
She leaned back a little, allowing him to wrap an arm around him. After an hour or so of riding, she had eventually leaned completely back, falling asleep against his chest.
By the time the sun was half swallowed by the horizon, the Sutherland castle appeared in the distance. Skald had been silently nervous about coming back so close to Mackenzie land, and was glad to see that the fields were empty, with a clear ride straight through to the Sutherland gates.
“You’ve got bigger balls than I already thought, comin’ back here,” Lucas Sutherland said with a laugh, as he stood with a group of the heavily armed guards, talking.
“Your hospitality was so good last time, I had to return,” Skald said, causing all of the men to laugh.
“I take it you’re being pursued,” Said another man, who Skald assumed was the older brother, Campbell Sutherland. He looked to be in his forties, at least.
“What makes you think that?” Skald said, as Freya began to wake, lifting her head off his chest.
“Well I ken that you killed Dougal MacKenzie, their chieftain’s cousin, for a start. That and the fact that they’ve had six or seven dozen men out raking the lands looking for ye. As ye can see, we’ve had to increase the number of sentries and men at arms in the castle, in case they decided to use the opportunity to strike our great clan,” he responded.
“We need a place to stay until Ivar arrives,” Skald said, looking between Lucas and Campbell.
“Ivar the Cruel is coming here?” Lucas asked.
“He’s coming to ensure our safe passage,” Skald said.
“By safe passage do you mean he’s coming to wipe out the Mackenzies?” Lucas asked.
“If they do not stand down then it will be unavoidable,” Skald clipped.
“Well then, I suppose you’ll be needing an actual room now that you have a young lady with ye,” Lucas walked back into the castle grounds, waving his hand for Skald and Freya to follow. They took the horse to the stables, where Skald lifted Freya down, and carried her into the castle, following Lucas.
“I can walk perfectly fine,” Freya huffed, as her face went red at all the eyes that turned to watch them as they entered the castle.
“You are walking like a wounded calf. I’ll be carrying you until you get your ankle looked at,” Skald said.
“Like a wounded calf, are you saying that you think I’m fat?” Freya gasped.
“Stop with the theatrics, bow kona,” Skald sighed.
“I’m not a bow kona without my bow,” Freya said.
“We’ll fix that,” Skald replied, in an attempt to cheer her.
“That’s one thing you won’t be able to fix, I’m afraid,” Freya replied.
Skald welcomed the chance to rest behind the walls of the Sutherland castle, but he still had to deal with Logan Sutherland and remedy any potential ill feelings that the man might feel after his hasty departure. The opportunity came during dinner, which was being served as they entered the dining hall of the castle. Logan was already seated, watching over his people, as Skald and Freya entered the room, accompanied by Lucas and Campbell.
Lucas walked them up to the high table, in a show of respect, largely because he knew Ivar was coming, he suspected. Skald watched Lucas and Logan talk in hushed tones for a few moments, before Logan turned to Skald.
“I didn’t think I’d see you back here, and alive no less,” Logan said.
“Lucky, I guess,” Skald said.
“There a little more than luck involved, I ken that,” Logan said, eyeing Skald, “and is this Freya, the Goddess of Death?” Logan asked.
“Just Freya,” she said shaking Logan’s hand.
“Aye, I suppose you’re not the goddess of much at all without your men to do yer fighting, are ye?” Campbell interjected, as he took a swig of wine.
“Campbell, why don’t ye go and entertain our good friends the McGregors?” Logan said to his brother.
Campbell sauntered off, taking as many swigs of his wine as he did steps, before sitting down with some people who looked none too pleased to have Campbell, of all the three brothers, to be seated with them.
“Forgive my brother, he becomes a little callous at times,” Logan said.
“Oh, I’m used to callous men,” Freya said, glancing at Skald as she said callous.
Skald frowned internally at her comment, but kept an impassive face, for the less that people know about anything at all, the better position he would be in.
“Please excuse my hasty departure, I was in a rush to catch my good friends Gregor and Gorm, who left without saying good bye,” Skald drawled.
“I ken the brothers killed two of your men, I hope you got the bastards back,” Logan said, looking seriously at Skald.
“They won’t be killing any more men,” Skald said back.
“Remind me not to cross ye, viking. Please, you must be hungry. Eat with us.” Logan said, putting his hand out to shake Skald’s.
25
Freya
Freya huffed and groaned all the way up the stairs to the sleeping chambers, while Skald carried her.
“Calm down, valkyrie, I can hardly walk on my feet either, after all the stomping you did during dinner,” Skald said spanking her behind with one hand, referring to the fact that she stomped on his foot with hers, whenever he tried to get too close, as punishment for his behaviour and comments during the day.
“If you want me to comply with any demands, you’d do well not to spank me once you’ve finished ordering me about,” Freya said, glaring back at him, her face level with his, as he held her up in his arms.
She had hoped that her behaviour would show him that she was not happy with how he had acted that day, and was pleased to see that Skald had noticed. Once they were in the chambers, Skald put her down on the bed, and walked back to bolt the door.
He put another log on the smouldering fireplace, causing embers to fly to the ceiling, the crackle of burning wood tickled her ears.
“You’re in a mood,” Skald said, as he turned around to face her.
“Well, when you behave like you did today, you can expect that,” Freya said, her arms folded across her chest.
“I behaved like I did because I was scared for your safety. I haven’t felt fear in a long time, and I didn’t know how to deal with it,” Skald said, moving to sit besides her on the bed.
This surprised Freya. She had assumed that Skald spoke like that out of impatience or annoyance, a
nd not for fear of her safety.
“When did you last feel fear?” Freya asked, her anger dissipating at his admission.
“When I was seven years old,” Skald said.
“Why?” Freya asked.
“I watched my family killed by raiders. I was taken with them and put on a ship, before they sold me to a band of vikings who wanted to raise young warriors. I was trained to become a war lord starting a week after I witnessed my family’s death. I did not have time to fear and I did not have the luxury to show weakness,” Skald said, looking down.