The Viking's Captive

by Quinn Loftis

  “My man has orders, Torben,” Magnus said. “I’ve got to retrieve something from the village—just a little nest egg I’ve been squirrelling away. If I don’t come back, or if he sees me get cut down, he instantly turns the boat around and takes her back to Calder’s clan. And I’ve told him he can do what he wants with her on the return voyage.

  “You think you’re a mighty warrior, Torben? Well, maybe you are, but good luck invading Calder’s clan to rescue the princess with this rabble. Not only does he have you in numbers, he has a witch in his clan. She’ll roast your soldiers alive before you get within a hundred yards of their village.”

  “He’s bluffing,” Brant said. “One man can’t handle a longship by himself.”

  Magnus shrugged. “It’s not that far to Clan Thornag. I’d say his chances are fifty-fifty.”

  My vision went red when Magnus mentioned letting his warrior have his way with Allete, but I thought I heard him say through the haze that Calder had a witch in his clan. If that were true, Magnus probably wasn’t bluffing. It would be no easy task rescuing Allete from Calder’s clutches if he had the aid of a witch. I silently prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

  “A witch?” I croaked. “Why would he deal with someone like that?

  Magnus shrugged. “My brother has his reasons, I’m sure.”

  “He’s power hungry just like you are.”

  “Perhaps, but that hunger is about to be satisfied. Don’t you see what is going on here, Torben? Clan Thornag is about to have riches, a witch, a healer and seer, the jarl of Clan Hakon, and all my men, completely at its disposal. With all of that, we can’t be stopped. Hell, I bet he’d even welcome you into the fold if I vouched for you. A warrior like you could be a real asset to my new clan. You said you wanted to unify the clans, didn’t you? Well, they will be unified under the banner of Clan Thornag. What do you say, Torben? Why don’t we end this peacefully and you come join us?”

  Bile rose in my throat at the thought of joining Magnus and Calder. I turned and looked at the soldiers behind me, the remnants of Clan Hakon. I knew without a word that they would follow Magnus no more. Like me, they would rather die than serve him any longer. They were ready to attack on my signal. I wasn’t sure if we would be victorious, but I liked our chances. We had something to fight for. The women and the children back in the village were depending upon us. And I had Brant and his war hammer. The brute was worth five ordinary men all by himself.

  Only the thought of those men in Magnus’ company stayed my hand. They were once my own clansmen. They’d been my friends and neighbors. I still held out hope that they would see reason, that they would see my way was better than Magnus and his brother’s.

  “I said unification, not subjugation. I know what you and your brother would do,” I said. “Every village you raided would be destroyed. The men would be slaughtered, and the women would be enslaved.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” replied Magnus, grinning. Again, some of his men muttered their assent, but others remained quiet.

  I wasn’t sure what I was going to say next, if anything. My resolve was failing fast. I was tired of talking, and my need to kill the man in front of me was threatening to overcome my senses. I just needed to be patient a little longer.

  Thankfully, I heard the sound I’d been waiting for. A loud boom rang out from about a hundred yards up the beach. Everyone turned to face the noise, and when Magnus turned back, my blade was at his throat.

  “Why is it when you wish for death it is out of your reach, but when death is the last thing you want, it’s happily knocking on your door like an eager suitor?”

  ~ Diary of Allete Auvray

  I had no idea how much time passed before I heard the anchor being tossed overboard. The ship was no longer moving. I pushed myself up from the floor and bit my lip in anger at the realization that I had, indeed, woken up. Leave it to the gods to ignore me in my time of need. They were probably laughing at me.

  I had been kept belowdecks the entire voyage and was beginning to think they’d forgotten about me. Perhaps they’d just leave me here to waste away. It wasn’t like I could escape—my hands were tied, my feet had been retied at some point while I was sleeping, and I was also gagged, which meant I couldn’t scream out for help or even curse all of creation for the fate of my sister and Hilda. Throughout the entire journey, I’d managed to sleep, though there had been times of some lucidity. I remembered hearing Magnus bellowing orders and the muffled sound of oars splashing in the water. Now, all was quiet. I tried to reach out to Torben through our bond, which seemed to have become habit, but still it was gone.

  The air, even in the bottom of the ship, was cold—fall had arrived, and the bite of winter was on the horizon. I shivered, but at the sound of heavy footsteps, I unwrapped my arms from around me and straightened my back. Magnus and another man came into view.

  “Wait until you see my signal, Ragnar,” commanded Magnus to his clanmate. “When you see it, bring her up and place her at the prow for a few seconds. Make sure Torben can see the knife at her throat, then toss her back out of sight. After Torben sees her, he’ll let me pass and I’ll march to the village, which should take about ten minutes. Figure about ten minutes to return. If you don’t see me back on that beach in half an hour, turn and hightail it back to Clan Thornag. I don’t think there’ll be fighting, but the same goes if they decide to attack. We should be able to handle them, but if they somehow get the best of us, take the girl back to Calder. He can do what he wants with her. Just make sure he knows that I had nothing to do with what Gisele did. He won’t lift a finger to avenge me if he believes I had anything to do with the other women’s deaths.”

  “Aye,” replied Ragnar, eyeing me cruelly.

  “And if she tries to escape, cut her,” Magnus said.

  “What about what happened back at the Thornag village with the other one?” asked Ragnar. “I’m kinda partial to me hands.”

  “Don’t worry about that. The bitch who did that is dead, and this one,” he pointed at me, “doesn’t have that kind of fire—at least, not anymore. The number-one priority is that she doesn’t escape. You do whatever is necessary to subdue her. She’s powerful, remember. Best not to take any chances. You think Calder would prefer she got away?”

  “Good point,” Ragnar said.

  Right, I thought. I’m so powerful I can overcome a hardened Viking warrior with my hands tied together.

  “And besides,” continued Magnus, “if I have my way, Calder won’t be in charge for much longer, anyway. If he thinks I would give up my own clan—the clan that I made strong—then he’s a fool.”

  “I understand, Jarl,” the warrior said as he grinned at Magnus. “Don’t worry about the lass. I’ll take good care of her while you’re gone.”

  “Not too good,” Magnus snarled, as he stared the man down. “Just make sure you watch for my signal.” With that, Magnus stomped back up on deck.

  I heard the small dinghies splashing into the water. There was more scuffling and splashing as the men loaded themselves in and began rowing to shore. I had tried to count their number back at Clan Thornag before I was thrown into the belly of the ship, but I didn’t get an accurate count—my mind had been too clouded in grief. But I counted at least ten men, and the man guarding me, Ragnar, was one of Magnus’ closest lieutenants. I’d noticed over the course of my captivity that he rarely left Magnus’ side. He was tall, with a shaved head and a gruesome scar running down his jawline. The warrior pulled his dagger and held it in front of my face.

  “Here’s what’s going to happen, girlie,” he said. “We are going to wait and watch. You’re not going to give me any trouble by trying to escape. If you do, I start cutting off pieces. Are we clear?” He ran the dagger slowly across my chest, tracing the swell of my bosom.

  The part of me that had died with my sister wanted to beg him to end it, but there was also a small flame of hope: Magnus had seemed sure that Torben was alive. So, I nod
ded, letting him see in my eyes that I wouldn’t give him any trouble. Apparently, he got the message.

  “Good,” he said. “You’re a beautiful girl, and I’m sure Calder is going to have lots of fun with you. It’d be a shame if I had to return you damaged.”

  The more I became convinced that Torben was still alive, the more my will to live grew. My previous death wish morphed into a very real fear of death. I wasn’t scared of death itself, but rather, I was afraid of never seeing Torben again. I was becoming frantic, so I tried—poorly, I was sure—not to let the man see my fear. Realizing my future husband could be alive, I was more afraid for Torben than for myself. If Magnus were right, Torben was on the beach, just a couple hundred feet from our boat. I wanted to see him desperately, to know that he was okay, but my biggest fear was that he might do something stupid when he saw me. Would he acquiesce to Magnus’ demands, or would he attack Magnus on the spot? I wasn’t sure which I’d prefer—the thought of both petrified me.

  Ragnar sheathed his knife and opened the hatch leading to the deck above. He stood on the top step, peering out.

  “Curses,” he muttered to himself, “I can’t see the beach. Come here, lass.” He reached down, grabbed me by the arm, and pulled me up the steps, pausing at the top. His grip was like iron; he had the strength to toss me around like a piece of driftwood if he wanted to. “Lay down on the deck, right there.” He forced me down on the spot he had indicated. “Keep your head down,” he said, his voice as sharp as a whip. Then, I felt the cold steel of the knife again, this time on the back my neck. “If you move or make a sound, then I get a little stabby-slicey, got me?”

  The memory of the first time my neck had been slit nearly choked me. Fearing to move an inch with the knife pressed against me, I gave the tiniest of nods, holding my breath.

  “Good on you, girlie. You might survive this yet,” Ragnar said as he removed the knife.

  I exhaled as slowly and smoothly as possible, but I could feel myself trembling. The man looked as insane as Magnus, and I began to wonder if his crazy was catching, like a disease.

  The frigid air was biting against my skin, and my fear only increased the coldness inside me. I shuddered just as Ragnar’s heavy boot came down squarely in the middle of my back, pinning me to the deck of the ship and exploding the breath from my lungs. I gasped and gurgled, but I tried my best not to move. I felt as if the man were just waiting for an excuse to do something terrible to me, and I didn’t want to give him a reason. I could see nothing from where I lay, my face pressed against the pitch-stained wood, which was warm and tacky from the beating sun. It was hot and stinky; I felt I wouldn’t be able to bear it for very long, but I knew I must if I were going to make it out of this alive. Anger was beginning to build inside me at the cruelty of this man, and I found myself fantasizing of ways I could make him feel this same fear and helplessness. A stabbing pain in my heart made my breath catch as I thought about Dayna and how she would have handled this whole situation. I smiled as I heard her voice in my head, cussing like a warrior and doing everything she could to make our captor’s life hell. She had been so brave, and I’d never realized how much her bravery had bolstered my own.

  Minutes passed with nothing happening. I simply lay there, my back throbbing under Ragnar’s boot and my nostrils filled with the horrible smell of the tar used to seal the cracks in the Viking boat. The warrior muttered to himself all the while. I tried in vain to slowly and quietly turn my head so I might see something, anything, of what was happening on the beach. It was futile. The only thing I could see was Ragnar’s other boot planted firmly on the deck next to my face.

  After several more minutes of this agony, the Viking spoke suddenly. “There’s our signal,” he said sharply.

  Ragnar reached down, jerked me to my feet, and shoved me roughly to the front of the boat. The dagger had reappeared in his hand, and he pressed the flat of the blade forcefully against my neck, so hard I thought he might break my windpipe.

  Then, I saw him. I blinked several times to make sure he was real and not something my tormented mind had made up. He was still there, in all his glory—broad shoulders, powerful arms and legs, eyes that always seemed to see into my soul. Torben was alive. For the first time since Dayna and Hilda had been killed, I could breathe. My heart was pounding as though it was trying to beat straight out of my chest to get closer to the man who held it in the palm of his hands. Torben stood face-to-face with Magnus on the beach, sword in hand.

  I wanted to run, to fight, to throw myself overboard and swim to shore. I wanted to do something, anything, to break free and get to him, but I knew I was trapped. Much to my surprise, I growled like a wild animal caught in a snare.

  “Time’s up,” Ragnar barked after a few seconds.

  He threw me roughly back toward the open hatch leading down to the hold. I gasped as I lost my balance and went tumbling straight into the opening. I wished my catlike reflexes had taken over and I’d gracefully caught myself, pirouetting down the steps to land lightly on my feet. Unfortunately, my reflexes, catlike or otherwise, decided at that moment they had better places to be. It didn’t help that my hands were tied so I couldn’t use them to break my fall or catch my balance. I went head-over-heels down the steps, banging knees, elbows, arms, and shoulders as I ricocheted my way to the bottom, finally smacking my head on the bottom step, where I finally came to a stop.

  “Whoopsie,” I heard Ragnar say from above deck, followed by sinister laughter.

  The pain was blinding. I couldn’t move for several seconds, and I feared every bone in my body was broken. “Don’t pass out, don’t pass out,” I muttered under my breath as I tried to regain my bearings. After a few moments, I tried moving my extremities. Muscles screamed in protest, but they still seemed to respond appropriately. I winced as I brought my tied hands up to my head and felt the spot that had connected with the unyielding step. Already, a knot was forming there. Lacking the strength to crawl, I slithered like a snake off the steps and then slowly and painfully wiggled until I had flipped myself over onto my back. As I lay there on my back at the bottom of the steps, I could see through the hatch to the open air above me. White fluffy clouds rolled past in a bright blue sky. I could see no sign of Ragnar, but I could hear him above, walking around and muttering to himself.

  I should just lie here. Just lie here and watch the clouds roll by. It’s so peaceful. It hurts too much to move, anyway. I could just close my eyes. A little rest, that’s what I need.

  But Torben is alive, you dunce! I screamed at myself. You can’t just lie down and die.

  I was right. And apparently, the bump on my head had done more damage than I’d realized because I was talking to myself as if I were another person.

  The world started becoming dark and fuzzy around the edges. Vaguely, I knew I was losing consciousness, despite telling myself not to. Then, something broke inside me. In my mind, I pictured Dayna being stabbed and then violated by Magnus’ men. And then I saw her lifeless body lying at Gisele’s feet. Hilda—cutting our hands and mixing our blood for a reason I didn’t yet understand. Thomas—risking everything to try to save me. Magnus, with his cruel eyes staring at me, licking his lips with desire and lust. Calder—his disgusting, dirty hands touching and twisting my hair. Taking something that should have been an intimacy between only Torben and me, making it feel dirty and vile. I pictured my father and mother’s faces as Magnus picked me up and fled my father’s throne room. Then—Torben. I saw the future he’d spoken about. The Nordic clans, strong and united under his rule. I saw a nation of peace and prosperity with me by his side. I wanted that future. I hated I couldn’t share it with Hilda and Dayna, but my sister would not want me to curl up in a ball and die. And Hilda’s death would have been in vain if I did not fight against our enemies. I couldn’t give up now. Whatever was happening on the beach, I couldn’t let Torben give in to Magnus’ demands. He needed to know I was ready to fight for him—to fight for us.

  The
thoughts kindled a fire in my belly. I was Allete Auvray. I was an English princess and the foreign bride prophesized for Clan Hakon. I would not stand down. Would not bow to another. I would not be a man’s property, nor would I be defeated. The prophecy would be fulfilled.

  Thought my hands were tied, they hadn’t put them behind my back, so I was able to grab the gag around my mouth and yank it. It took a few tries, but I finally loosened it enough to pull the cloth down around my neck. I managed to get my legs untied, though not without damaging my fingernails in the process, then ground my teeth and forced myself up to my knees. Every bone, joint, and muscle screamed in protest as I rose to my feet. Swaying, I reached out and leaned against the wall for support. Surveying my surroundings, I searched for anything that could be used as a weapon. The hold was mostly empty, just a bench and a few crates lining the walls. I cursed but started peering behind the crates, hoping to discover anything at all that might help me. Then I saw it, a short, old, rusty, iron pry bar resting against the wall in the corner. I imagined it was something they used to open crates after they’d been nailed shut. A grin, maniacal no doubt, spread across my lips. I’d never considered myself a bloodthirsty person, but I’d come to realize that every person has their limit. Every person has a point at which they say, ‘No more.’ My limit had been reached, and I had no doubt in my mind that I would swing the bar with the intent to kill and not bat an eye. I picked up my weapon, gripping it with both hands. It was heavy, but manageable—exactly what I needed.

  I took a deep, painful, shuddering breath and began making my way back to the stairs. Slowly, silently, I crept up them, holding my breath against the squeak of any loose boards. My luck held; no sound betrayed me. Just before I reached the level where my head would appear out of the hatch, I paused, steeling myself and saying a silent prayer. It was now or never. I held my breath and fought the urge to rush out of the hold and spring upon my captor while issuing a primal war cry. Though I wanted to take out all the frustrations of the past several weeks in one violent, glorious attack, I knew that would be folly. Ragnar would hear me and overpower me. I had to surprise him if I was to have any chance.