Fljótdís- Daughter of the North

by Sanita Trumpika

  It was like running into Fenrir’s throat. Of course, the Earl knew that Harald’s men were in the forest, but the hope was that Einarr was not concerned. They had been very careful, but there was no guarantee that this was going to succeed and they were so few.

  They easily sneaked into the village. A few guards walked around, but the distance between them was quite big, so they could be quickly and quietly eliminated. Fljótdís gestured commands to the others and each man headed in his own direction.

  She crouched down behind the corner of one of the houses, watching as her target moved slowly in her direction. The guard was an average man, not even a challenge. But it would be better to kill him from behind. She withdrew the two knives from her boots and as soon as the man turned his back to her again, she darted out of her cover and slit his throat with one move. The body was dragged out of sight.

  She moved forward with animal stealth. This time, the guard saw her, but she made short work of him before he could utter a sound. She noticed her men working in the same way with lethal, mechanical precision. If it had been to their advantage, they could have easily overtaken the whole village in this manner. She saw their goal, the Earl’s Great Hall.

  Everything was dark and silent. There was no sign that anyone was awake. They joined forces, listening and observing. Fljótdís nodded and Erik opened the door to the Hall. They made their way through the darkness of the Hall cautiously with their weapons in their hands. The Earl’s family rooms had to be close by.

  The men started forward, but Fljótdís stopped. A cold shiver raced down her spine. Something wasn’t right. She started to give a warning, but someone grabbed her from behind and cold steel gnawed into her neck. She was held with brutal strength. Everyone froze.

  “Put down your weapons or she will die!” The man’s voice was loud and low, and his dagger was already tasting her blood.

  If they surrendered, all would be lost.

  “Kill him!” Fljótdís ordered.

  The pressure of the knife became dangerous as he growled out another threat.

  “Saying it one last time, put your weapons down or I will cut your Commander’s throat.”

  Was there anyone else in the Hall or only this one man? If he was alone, she could stab her dagger in his stomach and be done with it. But if there were others, she couldn’t risk Erik’s life and the others. And clearly, they felt the same way about her because she heard them drop their weapons. She should have done this mission alone. The man cut her sword belt and it fell on the ground at her feet. She felt a hard shove to her back.

  “Now we will all go outside. Move.”

  She saw dark shadows move outside slowly. Someone gently touched her hand, while passing by. She knew it was Erik.

  “Now, move!” the stranger ordered. He forced her to make a step, still holding the dagger at her throat and pressing it deeper into her neck with each step. When they were outside, it was nearly as bright as day. At least a dozen guards stood with torches, their swords and axes ready. Erik, Olaf, Ulrik and both brothers were all unarmed and held as hostages.

  “See, girl?” the man hissed in her ear, “your little army is defeated. You thought you could trick me? You are as stupid as your king.”

  She said nothing but locked her gaze with each of her men. Gripping the dagger she still held, she put all strength into thrusting it into the man’s stomach. But he anticipated her move and grabbed her hand, twisting it so painfully that the knife fell to the ground. He forced her to her knees, holding her captive by her long braid.

  “I know your tactics, woman.” The stranger smiled and kicked her so hard she collapsed to the ground.

  She didn’t make a sound, but her hand hurt like fire. She hoped it wasn’t broken, but that was the least of her problems now. Another kick made white sparks fly before her eyes and another assault almost threw her into complete darkness. She must fight. If she was going to die tonight, she was not going to let it happen without a fight. From what sounded like a very long way off, she heard a voice.

  “Stop! Einarr, leave her alone. I’m the one you want. Let her go.”

  Someone raised her to her knees again, but all she saw was a white fog floating before her eyes.

  “I already have you, boy. But you are nothing compared to this whore. The great Commander of King Harald, the terror of all Northern lands. No, this bitch is too important.”

  Fljótdís felt his breath on her cheek. “They say you’re of the Valkyries. Let’s see how immortal you are.”

  “No!” Erik was close to madness.

  Another kick brought her down again. She felt the Earl circle around her like a rabid predator, delivering blow after blow, breaking her, throwing her into an endless sea of pain.

  But even in all this, her good hand sought the knife behind her boot. She felt huge relief when her hand wrapped around the handle of her dagger. But then another blow made contact, sending the dagger flying from her hand and almost breaking fingers. For a while, she couldn’t feel them at all.

  She ached as if she had been trampled by a horse. One hand swelled in pain and her other hand was numb. Her eyesight began to return, but everything was floating before her eyes. She saw Einarr’s face close to her and hit him hard with the only thing that was still any good, her leg. It was not important where she hit him or how. All she knew, was that this man had to be stopped. His attention must be distracted.

  She heard him moan. Good. The numbness in her hand eased a bit and she searched for the knife into the dirt. When her fingers touched cold steel, it was like a gift from the gods.

  Mother, help me, she said in her head, without even understanding why she was asking for help from her mother and not Father. She couldn’t explain why she was asking for help at all.

  But it worked. She felt strength again, enough to get to her knees and thrust the dagger straight into Einarr’s heart. She watched his eyes widen with surprise. And then he crumpled to the ground. She forced herself to stand up, although she knew this borrowed strength wouldn’t last long. But it would be long enough to give orders. She looked at Einarr’s guards. They floated in front of her eyes and it was a huge struggle to keep her balance, but she saw well enough to see the surprise and shock on their faces. She held her head high.

  “Release my men! Your Earl is dead.”

  The guards hesitated and looked at each other in confusion.

  There was no time for this. “I said, let them go!”

  Her voice echoed through the village as people began to come out of their houses and gather.

  The guards obeyed her order and her men were set free. She almost collapsed to the ground with relief, and she knew she would soon fall if she stayed where she was. So, she limped inside the Hall. She felt as if she had been hit by Thor’s Chariot. She sat heavily on one of the Great Hall’s tables, holding her bad hand, fighting the mist of pain that was ready to take her away.

  Erik’s voice startled her.

  “Fljótdís!” He glanced around the room. “Where are the servants? Light the candles, dammit!”

  He came to her, his face a portrait of concern.

  She gave him a pale smile that quickly faded. “All is well, Erik. I’m just...a bit tired.”

  He took her face between his hands and placed a kiss on her forehead. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

  “I’m alright, Erik,” she repeated emphatically, watching distractedly as, one by one, candles were lit to illuminate the Hall.

  She looked at her damaged hand and then looked up into his eyes. “Erik, this one isn’t right. I need your help.”

  He truly saw her hand that she was holding in a strange angle for the first time. It was badly out of place. He understood. Olaf entered the hall, searching for them.

  “Olaf, come hold her.” Erik’s voice was void of emotion, even though they all knew what was coming. None of them was a stranger to the wounds of combat.

  Olaf came forward and Fljótdís took a deep bre
ath, readying herself for the pain to come. When this was over, she was going to want to sleep for a week.

  Chapter 19

  “Go!” Erik stood squarely, his sword at the ready.

  Fljótdís clutched her sword tighter and brought a blow. Her steel met Erik’s and sparks flew in the air. She didn’t stop, as always striking and striking without giving her opponent a moment of breath. But when Erik went on the attack, his blow was strong and her sword flew out of her hand for the ninth time of the session. If she couldn’t fight or even defend herself, she was useless. She was not going to allow that to happen.

  And it wasn’t only outside enemies she had to be ready for. Although the King had not retaliated against her after his attack on her the day of the raid on Einarr’s village, he was a vengeful man who had a very long memory about things that did not go his way.

  After her victory over Einarr, Harald had let things go for the time being. He had kept his distance except when expediency demanded he interact with her in an official capacity. But it was only a matter of time before things boiled over again. She had to be ready at all times.

  She hit her bad hand with her fist. “Bloody Hel! It still is not listening to me. It’s still not as strong as it was before.”

  Erik came to her and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “Give it some time, Fljótdís.”

  She looked up into his eyes. “There is no time. I have my responsibilities and the summer raids will start soon.”

  He laughed. “And you accuse me of being impatient. You’re a lot worse.”

  She gave him a dark look and went to pick up her sword. The hand wouldn’t give her peace. It didn’t ache anymore, but it was weak. Her greatest fear was that she would never get its strength back. All of her knowledge, taught by Father, Ari and Ulrik, all of it was in this hand. What if she was no longer capable of performing her duties? What use would her life be then? And what reason would the King have to not be rid of her, one way or another?

  She leaned her back against a tree and watched the dancing waters of the river. The sun was so warming and the waters so joyous. Everything was waking up, blooming and singing. Even people’s moods were brighter and not without a reason. The winter had been very harsh. Thank the gods she had had Erik to warm her through it. She smiled at such intimate memories and cast a sideward glance at him, realizing that he was watching her with a mischievous grin.

  He came closer with his sword still in his hand.

  She gave him an enticing smile and undid her braid so that her hair fell like a waterfall over her breasts. They had played this game many times.

  “And what are you thinking about, warrior?”

  With a few broad strides, he came to her and put the sword at her neck, gently, teasingly. “I’m thinking that you are toying with me, Commander.”

  She gave him a considering look and ran her finger down the centre of the blade suggestively. “So, you’re saying I’m not playing fair? Do I need a lesson, then?”

  “A very serious lesson.”

  He gave her a smile that held a storm of desire. There was hunger in his eyes. He threw the sword aside and cupped her face with his hands, kissing her hungrily. His strong body forced her against the tree and she enjoyed each rough move, each manifestation of his passion. Sex and the battlefield, the two things that united them, this primitive need, this lust for blood and pleasure. And love, of course, love that didn’t need any words or proof.

  “You drive me to madness, woman,” he whispered as his hand ventured under her tunic. “Each time you look at me, I’m a lost man.”

  She slid her hand down beneath his belt and grinned, feeling him spring up hard in her grip. “You are mine to command now and I can make you as crazy as I want.”

  “Commander!”

  The loud shout and the sound of pounding hooves came out of nowhere.

  They swore in unison and smoothed each other's tunics before leaving their seclusion. The rider was from the King’s men. He stopped his horse abruptly when he realized that he had interrupted them.

  Fljótdís immediately returned to a demeanour of leadership. “What’s wrong, Ele?”

  He was breathing so heavily he could barely get the words out. “We are under attack, Commander. Thirty large ships are approaching our shores. We recognized King Torvaldson’s colours.”

  She exchanged a look of surprise with Erik. “How could that be? Torvaldson is dead. And Harald killed every one of his family.”

  Erik rubbed his brow in thought. “Unless some of his family were not in these lands in the time of war.”

  “And now they seek revenge. Ele, tell the King to meet me at the harbour.”

  Ele nodded and headed back to the village with all haste.

  Fljótdís sighed and gave Erik a small smile, but she rubbed her hand absently. “Time for a little action, then?” Erik’s smile was not as wholehearted as it once might have been.

  They raced back to the house and prepared their weapons and helped each other with their armour. Erik crossed in front of her before she went outside, his expression deadly earnest.

  “Be careful, Fljótdís.”

  She smiled lightly and pressed a small kiss to his lips. She had been given this warning before by Ari and she answered Erik as she had answered him. “Careful does not win the battle, my dear warrior.”

  He grabbed her arm. “But being careful will bring you back to me after this fight. That is the only victory I truly care about.”

  She took his hand and pressed it to her cheek. “Then just this once, I will be careful.”

  They left the river house behind at a full gallop. When they reached the town and the harbour, panic already ruled. Women and children were being led away, especially those who were close to the King, while others built up protective walls and distributed weapons.

  The King emerged from the Hall.

  “Fljótdís, come here now! You have kept me waiting.”

  She tossed the reins of her mare to Ingrid and approached him. “What is the situation, my lord?”

  Harald nodded at Erik and returned his attention to Fljótdís. “Everyone is in the Great Hall waiting for you.”

  She exchanged a glance with Erik and they both followed Harald inside the Hall, which was now turned into a weapons storehouse. Healers already gathered and brought their herbs and medicines in anticipation of a very large conflict. At one table, the best of Harald’s men were gathered, waiting for their orders from the King and his Commander.

  Fljótdís turned to Ulrik. “What do we know?”

  Ulrik rubbed his chin in consideration. “Our enemy has thirty ships with fully armed men. All of them are sailing under the colours of King Torvaldson.”

  Fljótdís didn’t like the sound of this news. “Do we know who commands these boats?”

  Helgi stepped forward. “Gauthild. Or as she calls herself, Queen Gauthild Torvaldsondottir.”

  “Torvaldson’s daughter?” She turned to the King. “Didn’t you say everyone of Torvaldson’s blood had been eliminated, my lord?”

  Harald shrugged. “I thought so. Killed a mountain of them. I had no idea there was another bitch off somewhere.”

  Fljótdís thrust her dagger into the table with a full force of anger. She glared into the King’s startled eyes. She was smaller than Harald, but right now, it seemed that the King was shrinking before her.

  “If I find out that any of your men let that woman escape that day, my King, I will cut off that man’s head.”

  Harald nodded, seeming to care little about any of this. “Fine, fine, you have my permission.”

  Her expression said very clearly that she did not need his permission.

  She turned back to the men and gave each of them a long look. “How is it that this enormous fleet did not get noticed earlier? Where was the coast watch?”

  The men exchanged looks with each other, not sure what to answer. Fljótdís shook her head in displeasure.

  “
I see. So no one knows anything. Things have gone out of control here while I was gone.”

  Erik brought her back to the bigger problem at hand. “We need a plan, Commander. If my calculations are correct, they will reach the entrance of the river just before the sun sets.”

  Hakon banged his fist on the table. “We need to eliminate them before they get that far. We cannot let them enter the river.”

  Fljótdís paced the Hall, searching her mind for a workable plan. She stopped at one of the side doors and observed the hurried preparations outside. Fear was in people’s eyes, especially in the eyes of the children. There were caves under the town, passages that led further into the mountains. People would be safe. But for how long? Soon everything they held dear might be on fire. Fire...

  She turned and looked at the men. “We will let their ships enter the river.”

  “But...” The King started to object, but one look at Fljótdís and he grew silent.

  She came to stand before him. “My King, we have only eighteen good ships. If we send them out to do battle in the open water, we may well lose them all. They will have no quarter to fall back if things go badly.”

  Harald was not following her line of reasoning. “What do you suggest?”

  Her smile held the promise of death. “We will let the bastards enter as if we are offering no resistance. We will meet them in the middle of the river and show them true Muspelfire.”

  Erik’s look of amazement turned to one of admiration. “You want to set them on fire?”

  She nodded and withdrew her knife from the table. “Yes. And not only their ships but the whole river so there will be no escape. How many barrels of tar do we have?”

  Helgi folded his arms across his chest and smiled. “More than enough.”

  Fljótdís resumed her pacing, her mind working at a fevered pace. “I shall take two ships.”

  Harald tried to sound smart.”You want to send them in as bait?”

  She looked the King in the eye, her expression one that assured him she was the one in charge. “I want to sail one of them, loaded full of tar. And when I reach that whore’s ship, I want to set her and all her little army on fire.”