Fljótdís- Daughter of the North

by Sanita Trumpika

  The King gave her a sly smile. “Can you guarantee me a victory?”

  “That bitch will never set foot on our shores, my lord.”

  “Then you may have your ships, Fljótdís.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” It struck her that he was being too cooperative, but there was no time for doubts and questions. There was too much at stake.

  She returned her attention to the others and looked to Ulrik. “Prepare the warriors. Take nine ships. We still have some time. Send two of them to the entrance of the river. There’s a perfect place there to hide them in the cove with all the reeds.

  “Helgi, you’ll command the ground forces. Station men along the river on both sides from the town to the end of the river. You’ll attack as soon as their ships cast anchor. My lord, I will ask that you command the forces here in the town.”

  She looked at Erik. “We will sail with our bait.”

  He nodded, ready for it. She saw the devotion in his eyes and knew that ordering him to stay in the town wouldn’t have been possible. He wouldn’t stay, especially knowing that this mission she had created for herself might well be a suicide mission if things didn’t go exactly as planned.

  Fljótdís gave the men their final orders and everyone hurried to their responsibilities.

  The King gave her a smile that lacked lustre. “You always surprise me, Fljótdís. Let us hope you surprise our enemies more. Much depends on this victory.”

  He went back into the Hall to prepare for battle, leaving Fljótdís and Erik outside alone.

  She watched the men quickly fill the ships with weapons and large barrels of tar, getting ready for what was to come. It was the wrong time for this battle. Half of their ships were in need of repair after the last sail. Ten were out on exploring expeditions, and another ten on loan to an Earl to the west who attacked Frankish lands. More ships were scheduled to be built. That didn’t help them now.

  But she had learned over the years that battles happened when they happened. You couldn’t always choose the right time. You simply had to make the best of what you were given. This battle would happen at sunset, and the sunset wouldn’t be the only thing to set the sky ablaze tonight.

  Erik’s voice beside her drew her from her thoughts.

  “Do you think it will work, Fljótdís?”

  She shrugged, suddenly feeling deadly tired.

  “It has to work.”

  It was going to be a dangerous game with Death itself. The whole river would be on fire, and if the strength in her hand failed her, one wrong move and she might destroy everything she cared about. In many ways, this was her biggest battle. Somehow, it felt like this might be her last battle. It would be her last battle before becoming a wife. Or maybe this feeling was warning her that she would die tonight. She had seen Valkyries in her dreams so many times, she didn’t know what to believe anymore. Whatever it meant, she was ready to accept the Fate the Norns had set for her tonight. And she was ready to accept it with the man she loved by her side.

  The sun went down, filling the sky with bright ribbons of red, purple and orange. Fljótdís stood at the pier, watching the enemy ships enter the river. They were still only small spots in the distance. She smiled. The only thing they would find here was their own death. It was time to show these bastards what Helheim looks alike.

  The King stood beside her. “Ready?”

  She cast him a sideward glance. “I am always ready.”

  Harald nodded, his words somehow lacking in substance. “Then may the gods help us.”

  Fljótdís bowed her head slightly and jumped onto one of the ships.

  “Oars!” she shouted and thirty oars slid into the water, held by the strong hands of brave and loyal Northmen.

  The longboat left the port and adjusted to the river’s flow. The winds were in their favour today. The sacrifices to Njord had been successful.

  Fljótdís stood at the bow, observing as the enemy ships approached. Her hand was firm on the handle of her sword. She felt the familiar feeling rise inside her. Power. Bloodthirst. It was like a drug. Some men used herbs or mushrooms to make themselves go berserker, but she didn’t need such things. She already had this power. It coursed through her heart, making her feel invincible, making her much more than a woman and Commander. Maybe she was favoured by the gods. And maybe she did have a Valkyrie’s blood running in her veins.

  Five of the King’s ships passed by, ready to meet up with the enemy’s first boats. All went as planned. These five should deal with the first ones who guarded that woman’s worthless life. Archers with arrows were already placed on the shores.

  She turned to her men. “Head straight for the main ship. Set the fire and immediately abandon ship. Keep the water over your head as much as possible to avoid the flames. Be careful. And be fierce, my brothers!”

  The men nodded their understanding. She gave a quick glance at the ship that sailed up next to her. Erik gave her a bright smile and she smiled back, then again set her focus on the coming ships.

  “To the right!” Fljótdís commanded.

  Erik’s voice sounded from the other ship. “To the left!”

  Both ships now set the distance between each other, sailing very near the shore, as much as the boats allowed it. Another three ships rushed by. The oarsmen worked with incredible strength and speed. And then it happened.

  The first ships met up with the enemy with a loud crack. A battle horn sounded and forty archers on horses from each shore sent a hail of arrows above the enemies’ heads.

  But the lead ship kept breaking through the lines of boats, straight toward the longboat of this self-proclaimed queen. With her sword at the ready, Fljótdís saw her goal.

  Queen Gauthild stood at the bow, her white hair plaited in a thick braid, laid over her shoulder. She was beautiful, that Fljótdís had to admit. But it was a rough and hard beauty. She could see that this woman was a warrior as well as a lady. The sword at her side was a sure sign of it. The enemy queen smiled slightly as she met Fljótdís’ stormy glare.

  Fljótdís glanced around. The battle was on. Her men had reached the enemy’s boats and now the sound of crashing shields and weapons filled the air along with screams of pain and victory. The enemy’s count was higher than the count of her men. She raised her sword and shouted the command.

  “Fire!”

  The sides of their boat were soaked in tar. The touch of a single torch would set everything ablaze. As Fljótdís’ boat collided with the enemy’s, the wooden flanks exploded in flames. The men on Gauthild’s boat let out a cry of surprise.

  Fljótdís looked back at her men. “Tonight we will feed the Dogs of Hel! Tonight we will fight for our home and for victory!”

  “For victory!” they all shouted in reply as they leapt aboard the rammed ship.

  The vessel was much larger and stronger than King Harald’s ships. Fljótdís landed into a swarm of heavily armoured men. But even their armour couldn’t protect them from her deadly skills. She felt the sting of a blade make contact with her arm, but it was nothing that could distract her. Her hand remained strong. She pivoted sharply and cut off another head.

  It wasn’t hard for her to break through the lines of warriors and in time she stood eye to eye with Gauthild. She found her to be an impressive woman now that she was so close, tall and strong. She had spent her entire life defeating men who were taller and stronger than she was. But how competent was this female adversary in battle? It was time to find it out.

  Gauthild gave her a wicked smile. “So, you are the sow who sucks Harald’s cock. For some reason, I thought he could do better. But now that I think on it, his nose is never out of the pig shit.”

  Fljótdís returned her smile with equal ice. “And you are the traitorous coward who ran and left your kin to die protecting your lands.”

  She couldn’t shake off the feeling that there was more to this than met the eye. All the battles, all the struggles and humiliation, somehow it had all led her to this
moment and it had some kind of extraordinary importance. She wasn’t sure what it was yet. It felt like she was going to be given the answers to questions she didn’t even know how to ask.

  Gauthild began to move around the deck slowly. “I must say I am honoured to finally meet the legendary Valkyrie everyone talks about. And it will be an even greater honour for me to take your head.”

  Fljótdís’ cold smile remained. “Perhaps. But more likely, when I take your head, it will be nothing but an ordinary chore.”

  “Mockery does not suit you, lady. How do they call you, Lady of The River, or some such nonsense?” Gauthild swung her sword in the air to show her dexterity. “Lady of the Pigsty, more properly. It makes no difference. Soon, you’ll be Lady of Nothing.”

  Fljótdís rolled her eyes. “This is why I don’t waste my time with women. Is your plan to talk me to death?”

  Gauthild narrowed her eyes in warning. “No more talk.”

  With her sword held high above her head, the self-proclaimed Queen jumped to the attack. The mighty steel of her sword met with Fljótdís’ blade, throwing a handful of bright sparks. The sound was almost deafening and Fljótdís felt the strength of this woman in her whole body. But she pushed the Queen back closer to the flames which now licked the boat from all sides. Gauthild avoided the flames and dodged to one side.

  With one swift move, Fljótdís swung her sword so low that the very end of the blade’s edge touched Gauthild’s hip. The woman didn’t flinch but answered with another strong blow of her sword. Fljótdís ducked down just in time and easily avoided it, now standing behind the woman’s back. It was a game, a dance she usually enjoyed.

  Gauthild whirled just in time to block her rival’s attack. Now the flames were behind Fljótdís’ back. The Queen smiled, pushing her adversary closer to the flames. But this time she met with strong resistance and her smile faded.

  “You thought it would be so easy?” Fljótdís asked as she pushed the woman back with that so familiar gleam of hidden power in her eyes, the gleam of bloodthirst.

  Torvaldson’s daughter stepped back, glaring at Fljótdís furiously. “You are nothing but a dirty little whore and I will send you to Hel tonight!”

  With these words, Gauthild swung her sword again and blade clanged against the blade. Fljótdís bided her time. Till now she had let the woman attack, let her have confidence in her own strength. But it was time to show this bitch the truth of what she was fighting against.

  Fljótdís withdrew the sword from under Gauthild’s blade. She raised it and throwing it in the other hand attacked her adversary with all her might, swing after swing, clash after clash. With Harald’s Commander’s ability to also fight left-handed, Gauthild was taken completely by surprise, and Fljótdís’ speed didn’t allow her to make a single attack. She had to block the barrage of blows of this woman who was shorter and lighter of build than she was. It took no time at all for Gauthild’s sword to fly uselessly from her hand.

  Fljótdís tossed her sword back into her right hand and pressed the edge of the blade against Gauthild’s neck. But then she stepped back. “Pick up your sword, coward.”

  Gauthild looked at her in confusion, then leaned down carefully to pick up her weapon, never lowering her eyes from Fljótdís.

  Fljótdís tightened her grip. Under other circumstances, she would have liked to have this woman in her army, another strong female warrior who wasn’t afraid to stand against everyone. But this was war and circumstances were as they were. Her enemy had to die and Fljótdís was losing patience with this game.

  With a quick swing, she went on the attack again, mercilessly pushing the Queen to her knees. But Gauthild didn’t give up. She swung her sword from below almost cleaving Fljótdís from her stomach to her throat. It was a close call. But Gauthild couldn’t do another attack so quickly and at the same moment, Fljótdís was already behind her back, thrusting her sword through the tall woman’s body. Torvaldson’s daughter let out a gasp of surprise.

  Fljótdís withdrew her sword. Breathing heavily, she went around and stood in front of the defeated woman. Blood dripped from her sword and she stood calmly, not noticing the flames that were only a few steps away, not noticing the wind that was playing with her dark, sweat-soaked hair. She looked into Gauthild’s eyes. In that instant, she saw a different woman in front of her, a woman she had killed many years ago, a woman who was bearing a child under her heart, a woman who by her death had opened the way to her success.

  Fljótdís blinked and there was Gauthild in front of her again. The light in the fair-haired woman’s eyes was dimming, but still, she smiled and forced words out with difficulty.

  “How is it...to be the whore of... the man who murdered your father?”

  Fljótdís was ready to take her head, but Gauthild’s words stopped her cold. “What are you talking about?”

  “Harald.”

  It was just one word, but it struck Fljótdís as heavily as if she had been hit by Thor’s Hammer.

  “Lies!” she shouted and raised her sword higher.

  “My uncle...saw it...with his own...eyes.”

  Fljótdís couldn’t move. She stared down at Gauthild in complete shock. Could this be true? No, this had to be a foul trick. The cowardly bitch had lost. She was dying. And her only chance for vengeance was to tell these terrible lies.

  “My father died in battle fighting for his King as I am fighting for him now. I will hear no more from you!”

  And with those words, Fljótdís took her head. It rolled off the strong shoulders and stopped at Fljótdís’ feet. Now the fair braid was soaked in blood and the eyes empty. But her frozen expression was filled with peace. There was something very unnerving about that.

  Fljótdís looked back and saw nothing but fire all around, the cracking of the burning ships and the screams of terror and death. There came the loud blowing of the horn. Victory. They had won. She felt the familiar power run in her veins, the power that was given to her by something outside this world. She felt like she could walk through the fire and remain unharmed.

  But now there was something else, something that shadowed this wonderful feeling. She began to shiver so hard that she couldn’t keep her teeth together. She felt like ice in spite of the heat all around and she would have probably died in the flames if someone hadn’t pushed her into the cold water.

  For a moment she felt nothing, just deep blackness. There was nothing inside her, no warmth, no pain or joy. Was this death? If so, she was ready to give up to it. She was tired of this long dance with mortality. It was her time. She closed her eyes and let the strong, warm arms of a Valkyrie wrap around her.

  Chapter 20

  “Fljótdís!”

  Someone was calling her name. Why didn’t they just leave her alone?

  “Fljótdís, open your eyes! Open your eyes, damn it. Don’t do this to me!”

  She didn’t want to open her eyes. It was so good to feel nothing. A jagged bolt of pain ran through her leg and she opened her eyes. She couldn’t breathe. It was a terrifying feeling. Her lungs were filled with water. She had to cough it out or she would suffocate. She let the strong hands bend her over and the water poured forth from her lungs. They still burned and breathing was torture.

  The source of the voice pulled her into his strong arms.

  “Thank Freyja and all the gods. I thought you were lost to me.”

  She blinked when she saw the river. It was still engulfed in fire. Bright flames mirrored in the pitch black waters. Now, there were no more screams or battle sounds. There was only the roar of the fire. But even the flames tired and started to lose their power. At last, she remembered.

  “Erik,” she whispered. It was the best she could do.

  He released her from his embrace and took her face between his battle-bloodied hands. “What were you doing there? I called to you over and over, but you didn’t abandon the ship. Didn’t you hear me?”

  She looked into his worried eyes. “I am here
. All is well. I am alive.”

  He pulled her back into his embrace and wrapped a cloak around her shoulders. Only now did she realize how much she was shivering. She wasn’t cold and yet her body trembled. She winced from the pain in her leg and gave it a careful look. One side of her shin was burned. It didn’t seem too deep, but it ached badly.

  Erik turned her attention away from the injury. “My life is nothing without you, Fljótdís. Listen to me. Do you understand that?” It was like he was saying it to himself as much as to her. It was one of those rare moments when he confessed his warrior’s heart.

  She nodded her understanding. His eyes were filled with a silent promise to protect her with his life. It warmed her, but it also gave her cause for worry. As much as he didn’t want to lose her, she didn’t want to lose him, especially if it was in her defence.

  They took this brief moment to simply be together before the world intruded again. The stars showed themselves and the river quieted. It was almost as if the battle had been nothing but a strange dream.

  Fljótdís pulled herself up into a sitting position and glanced around at the trees nearby. “Where are we?”

  Erik frowned into the darkness. “I don’t know, but at least we are on the right side of the river. The town shouldn’t be too far. We need to get you to a Healer.”

  She wasn’t ready for the real world yet, and she leaned her head against his broad chest. “I want to stay here and never go back.”

  He smiled and kissed the top of her head. “I know. I wish the same. But we must go. The men will be looking for you.”

  She knew what he was truly saying was that the King would be looking for her. Even now, Erik was still jealous and she loved him for that dearly.

  Erik stood up and took her into his arms.

  “Put me down,” she protested. “I can go on my own.”

  He didn’t listen to her but just started the way along the river. His face was full of determination and stubbornness.