The Fortress of Time

by Stone, Mariah

  Asa’s hand covered her mouth. Floki sat up, his eyes wide, and Donna cursed herself for not asking Asa to go outside.

  “Loki’s turd,” he whispered.

  Donna nodded. “There’s no time to waste, but Sigurd won’t let the women help. We must build the fortress anyway.”

  Floki’s face straightened. “Disobey the jarl, again? He will banish us from the village.”

  Donna swallowed. Was she right to ask this of them?

  “Yes. But if we do as he says, there will be no village to be banished from.”

  Asa’s mouth curved. Floki held Donna’s gaze for a while, and she thought he’d contradict her again, but he said, “I will help you. You women need a foreman with experience. The jarl means well, but everyone can see that without more manpower we will all be dead.”

  Donna squeezed his hand in gratitude. Apparently, not every Viking was as stubborn as Sigurd.

  Floki continued, “We’ll build where the arch is. The jarl does not plan to construct there yet. It is a small enough space for us to manage on our own.”

  The tension in Donna’s muscles, which she had not noticed before, released. She said, “We’ll just do it. Not in secret. But also not announcing it openly.”

  Asa and Floki both gave curt nods.

  Asa woke a few women from her household and explained the plan to them. Outside, the sun was rising, and its first rays warmed Donna’s cheeks. But the atmosphere in the village was somber, as if a cloud of fear cast dark shadows over everything. Together with Donna, they visited the women Asa trusted. Sigurd had already woken up many people—men had their quick breakfasts and walked to the construction sites, their faces stern, worry deep in their eyes.

  They gathered a dozen women. Five more went to cut down trees in the forest. They started slowly, but after they got into the rhythm of cutting the logs, removing the branches, sharpening the edges and planting the stakes in the trench, the work went faster. The women started singing, altogether, a song that told the story of Brunhild, the legendary shield-maiden. The melody sounded primal and ancient, and after a while, Donna joined in, humming because she did not know the words. Floki’s voice droned in the background. Their song created a space, an invisible dome under which they were united, working as one. Donna had never felt this kind of connection in her own time and only wished Sigurd was here with them, singing.

  To Donna’s astonishment, they’d already finished the palisade when night started to descend. It stood from both sides, attached to the rocks of the arch, and they were hanging the gate on hinges. Donna stood back to admire the work they had done together. Her muscles buzzed from exhaustion, her eyelids heavy. There was only one thing to do—fix the fallen rock of the stone arch itself.

  Once the arch was whole again, would she really be able to go back anytime she wanted? The prospect of leaving Sigurd made Donna’s feet drag.

  Floki and one of the taller women lifted Donna up on their shoulders so that she could fix the rock. Her hands shook—surely from exhaustion, she told herself. The stone fit as though it never had separated from the arch, and stayed as if glued. There weren’t even any cracks.

  As the arch became whole, a feeling overcame Donna. She knew, just as she knew that the sun would rise tomorrow, that the arch was alive…and magical…and it would swallow her. She could feel it just like she could feel her own heartbeat.

  Donna’s fingers dug into the shoulders on which she sat. Her skin prickled as if a net of razor blades covered her. Something sucked all breath from her lungs. “Put me down,” she whispered.

  When her feet hit on the ground, she fell as if cut, and crawled as far away from the arch as possible. Arms embraced her from behind, and a feeling of safety wrapped around her like a warm shawl. “Shhh, you are safe,” Sigurd whispered in her ear, and she relaxed. “I won’t let you go yet.”

  Donna breathed easier, the warmth of his arms around her calming her down. She slowly turned her head to look at him. His handsome face hung over her, their eyes locked, and everything else ceased to exist. He looked at her with concern.

  “Are you mad?” Donna said.

  Sigurd’s expression turned to one of lustful longing. He brushed her upper arm with his fingers, and Donna’s stomach fluttered. But then he broke eye contact and glared at the palisade, looking torn between relief and anger. He rose, and Donna stood up as well, her feet steadier now. Sigurd walked towards the newly constructed wall.

  “All of you,” he growled. “You disobeyed the orders of your jarl. You knew there would be consequences.”

  Donna’s skin chilled. Was he about to punish them?

  Sigurd stood right by the palisade and inspected it closely, his hand brushing along the wall. He opened and closed the gate and glanced up at the stone arch. His head turned to Floki.

  “And you, Floki, you helped—”

  “Jarl,” Floki interrupted, “I disagree. The women should help. I supervised them, and I tell you, there is no fault in this palisade. It will stand and protect. The work here is done—only thing left is to bar the gate.”

  Sigurd’s mouth curved down in anger. “If we were not under the greatest threat to our existence, I would have you all banished from the village.” He scowled at Donna. “Let me guess, you initiated this?”

  Donna’s chin rose. “Yes. If you need to punish someone, punish me.” An unwanted thrill went through Donna at the thought of how he might do that, but she chased it away. “We will continue building, though, whether you want it or not. Just look.” She gestured towards the palisade. “Is this not helpful? Did it not make you feel a little easier to see this part of the fortress finished?”

  Sigurd crossed his arms on his chest and opened his mouth to speak when a shout made their heads turn.

  “Jarl!” A boy not older than twelve ran on the path. “Hurry! There’s been an accident.”

  Sigurd’s face lost its color, and he ran after the boy. Donna and the rest followed him. It was now almost dark. The indigo sky glowed with gold behind the mountains to the west. When they arrived at the construction site by the beach, some men still worked, but a dozen or so stood in a circle leaning over someone.

  Sigurd was already kneeling beside the figure, and as Donna came closer, she saw a man lying on the ground and clawing at his leg. His ankle was twisted in an unnatural way, and Donna felt sick.

  One of the men explained, “We set the stake in the wrong place because of the darkness, and it fell. Normally, we would have held it, but honestly, lord, we don’t have much strength left.”

  Asa leaned over the man. “I can set the bone, but—”

  “But what?” Sigurd growled.

  She shot him a quick glance. “Injuries like this… I don’t know if the bone will heal properly.”

  Sigurd froze, his face an expressionless mask. “Will he be a cripple?”

  Donna shut her eyes, fear slipping down her spine like an icicle.

  Asa looked at the broken ankle from different angles. “I don’t know yet.”

  “But he might be?”

  “He might.”

  Donna’s hand automatically landed on Sigurd’s shoulder. The guilt was probably killing him.

  She glanced back at the palisade. Fires illuminated small parts of it, but it was mostly dark, and Donna wondered how the men could do any work at all. The fortress had advanced since Donna had seen it last night, but looking at what remained to be built, the progress seemed heartbreakingly slow. Knocks of hammers and sharp shouts of commands and insults filled the air. But the insults did not sound like friendly men’s banter. They were full of spite. This was so different from the arch construction site, when the women and Floki had sung in unison.

  Asa asked the men to carry the injured man in her house and went with them. Sigurd followed them with a haunted look on his face, then turned back to the men. “Stop the construction!” he roared. “Go home, rest. Come back tomorrow as agreed with the first light.”

  The men laid
whatever they were holding on the ground, got down from the towers and walked back home with tired looks on their faces.

  Sigurd stood silent and immobile, his hands propped on his hips, studying the ground.

  “Sigurd—” Donna said as softly as she could, but he interrupted her.

  “I know. Allow the women to build.”

  He met her gaze, and his face was distorted with an inner struggle. Oh, her brave, lovely, strong warrior. The injury to that man must be torturing him. He could have stopped the work sooner. He could have already employed the women’s help. And while it was all true, Donna didn’t blame him. And she hoped he wouldn’t blame himself, although she was certain he would.

  “I will,” he said, his voice cracking. Relief flooded Donna’s body. She rushed to him and hugged him. His arms engulfed her and pressed her tight to him. Warmth spread through her chest as if he’d just lit a candle in the middle of her heart.

  And for the first time since she’d arrived, hope bloomed in Donna.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Odin pierce him with his spear, Donna was right.

  The combined forces of everyone in the village allowed them to make progress like never before. After just a week, the palisade at the beachfront rose, and the scent of hewn wood enveloped the village. They left a gap for a gate in the middle. The first defensive tower had been finished completely. The second one was well underway, and the third one just started. Southern wind brought the scent of the sea, and with it, the reminder of Fuldarr’s threat.

  Working together as a team with a woman made Sigurd feel strangely balanced. He was starting to get used to her. Seeing her so close during the day, as she mixed clay or carried logs with other women, spread the sensation of peace in his core. He caught himself many times admiring the way her breasts bounced ever so slightly under the fabric of her dress as she walked. The way her hips swayed. He was looking forward to the short nights, when she gave herself so eagerly to him, and her body sang in his arms.

  The Norn was a good matchmaker. Had Donna been born in his age, he’d turn the world upside down to marry her and make her his forever. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Smart, willful, and outspoken, she was a worthy wife to a jarl.

  This must have been how Freyr, the god of sun and fertility, felt when he first laid eyes on the beautiful Gerðr and was ready to give up his invincible sword to marry her.

  Sigurd was ready to sacrifice such a sword, too, had he possessed one.

  Yet the decision to give up something was not his.

  It was hers.

  And the odds were not in Sigurd’s favor.

  He chased the thoughts away like a horde of rodents. He avoided even looking in the direction of the finished arch and immersed himself in work. As the days had gone by, he’d begun to notice that a group of men openly disapproved of the women working by their sides. Sigurd himself was not quite at peace with the solution, but the work was done, and it was done well.

  Mostly.

  By the end of the first week, the group at the beachfront site steamed with anger. Geirr, the biggest opponent, bossed the women around and scolded them if they did something amiss, or if a woman had to pause to take a breath.

  That morning, the towers boiled with activity as workers continued construction. Then Sigurd heard arguing, and his gut clenched as he saw Donna’s figure right in the middle of a small gathering of people who gesticulated and talked in heated tones.

  “What is this?” Sigurd barked as he approached them.

  Donna’s head shot to him. Relief relaxed her features, and he breathed easier. “Sigurd, thank God you’re here. You must stop this nonsense.”

  “Women should not be allowed to do skilled work, jarl!” Geirr interrupted. “Brama came up the tower, took my hammer and started nailing the planks together while I was away for a minute—”

  “And what did you do, Geirr?” Brama, a younger woman, held her left shoulder with her right hand. “He pushed me away, jarl, and I fell down the ramp.”

  “I did not mean for her to fall! Who told her to do anything on the tower?”

  Sigurd’s nostrils flared. A female should not do work that required construction skill, but harming a woman was shameful for a man.

  Before he could say anything, his beautiful maiden of justice spoke again: “You know what, that’s it. This is not the first time the women have been shoved, pushed, and threatened on this construction. I think it’s time for you ladies to learn to defend yourselves against that and any threats to come.” She eyed Geirr up and down. “Especially if someone assumes they have the right to touch you.”

  Geirr bared his teeth, and Sigurd’s fists clenched. He made a step towards the man, but Donna continued, and everyone’s attention was drawn back to her. “The enemy is coming. Wouldn’t it be sensible for the women to know how to protect themselves?”

  The women nodded. Sigurd watched her full lips moving and could not believe his ears. Women fighting? Simple women, not shield-maidens? Loki must have clouded Donna’s mind.

  “There will be none of that.”

  Donna glared at him, her cheeks starting to redden. “It makes sense, Sigurd. The fortress is progressing well. Instead of watching such idiots as Geirr picking fights with the women, allow at least some of them to learn self-defense. If we helped with the construction, we might help with the fighting.”

  Geirr laughed. “Jarl, am I hearing her right? I might have seaweed in my ears—”

  Sigurd’s hand rose to shut him up. “Not a word more, Geirr.” He turned to Donna and to the women who watched him with frowns. “Combat is brutal. Axes, swords, and shields. Gore, broken bones, and spilled guts. Rare women learn to fight well and become shield-maidens. But combat needs lengthy training. Time we don’t have.”

  “They could at least learn the basics to protect against rape.” Donna glanced sideways at Geirr, and he glared at her.

  “Elbows and knees will do nothing against a warrior armed with steel and burning for a woman.”

  Donna pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest, making the fabric stretch and hug her breasts. The urge to touch her sent a bolt of heat through Sigurd’s groin. Loki’s mischief. How could he still react to her like that, in the middle of a construction site?

  Sigurd gritted his teeth and looked at the people around him.

  “Self-defense will do nothing for you,” he said. “When the enemy comes, and the women are fighting on the battlefield, the warriors will have to split their attention to protect them and fight their own battle at the same time. We’ll lose.”

  He did not believe what he was about to say. His men would protest. The women might think a spirit had taken over his body. “But there’s still something the women can do to protect the village from a distance. Archery.”

  Donna’s eyes brightened. “Yes! Brilliant, Sigurd.” She gripped his hand with both of hers, sending a pleasant buzzing through his skin. Seeing her approval, her happiness, made warmth radiate throughout his body and his heart drum in his chest. He wanted to make her feel like that every day of her life.

  If they survived.

  He continued, “It does not mean that you will be out of danger. Enemy archers will aim at you, too. But you will be in the watchtowers.”

  The women did not seem to be frightened. They watched him with something that resembled pride, and his own chest thrust out slightly with pride for his women. Asa spoke, and he knew she expressed the voices of many.

  “Jarl, you should have asked us long ago.”

  Sigurd nodded. “Halfdan is the best archer. He’ll teach you. Gather by the stone arch.” Stone arch… His eyes shot to Donna’s and he immediately glanced somewhere else. Anywhere else. “It’s far enough away so that you don’t hurt anyone while you train.”

  Geirr made a step towards Sigurd. “Jarl, is this wise?”

  “It is, Geirr. It is wise to do anything to protect you and your family and everyone in this village.�
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  Donna raised her chin. “I will learn, too.”

  The muscles of Sigurd’s stomach quivered. His pulse sped. “Not you.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do—”

  Sigurd felt the eyes of his people on him. He gripped Donna’s elbow and led her away.

  “Do not dare undermine my authority in front of my people,” he growled.

  “But—”

  “There will be no archery training for you.”

  They stood now behind a building, shielded from prying eyes, and he wrapped his arms around her—something he itched to do the whole day long. The feeling of being home enveloped him. “I can’t risk your life.”

  “And I can’t just stand by and watch everyone else die.”

  He planted a kiss on her lips, and their softness kindled a fire in his groin. “Have you ever been in a battle?”

  She blushed. “No.”

  “Have you ever seen death?”

  “No.”

  “Then you have no idea what awaits you.”

  Donna paled a little, her skin almost translucent. Then stubbornness hardened her eyes, and they became as blue as the deep sea in summer. “You’re right. I have no clue. But, Sigurd, I am going to learn to shoot a bow with the women of your village. And if you think you can stop me, you don’t have the slightest idea who I am. And if that’s the case, maybe it’s better we stop this…whatever it is between us.”

  Sigurd swallowed, and panic shot through him like a lightning bolt. He did not want to end this, especially not now as she melted in his arms, soft and delicious.

  But Donna was right. He knew she was a warrior at heart. Seeing her risk her life made him want to cut his own heart out, just to shield her from harm. But even worse would be to have her completely unprepared and see her killed because of his mistrust.

  He had to trust her to learn to fight and protect herself as he trusted his warriors.

  “I do know you, Donna. I knew you from the moment I saw you. Through time, through the hundreds of years. You are a shield-maiden, your weapons are words and arguments, but it is time you learn to fight with steel and wood.”