Fljótdís- Daughter of the North

by Sanita Trumpika

  Fljótdís pivoted just in time to meet a hissing sword. Another attack came from the side and it would have run through her, if not for Hakon. She heard the steel thrust into his flesh. Another blade joined in. One of her dearest friends and loyal warriors fell to the floor dead. He had died protecting her like everyone else.

  Rage consumed her and she attacked the men with new strength, one by one sending them to their deaths. She ducked down, stood up, turned to the left, around and to the right. She stepped back, then went on the attack again until only two of the dozen stood their ground. She was breathing hard as she watched them circle around her. She was covered in blood and her eyes were wild with this war. Her attackers hesitated.

  When one of them made his move, she put her sword through his chest and whirled to cut off the other man’s head. It was easy to take out the last one, he was short and fat and slow. Fljótdís looked at the pile of dead bodies around her and then turned to the King. A fire of madness burned in her eyes.

  She smiled darkly and made a step closer. “Now, where were we?”

  But she wasn’t prepared for what happened next. A heavy hit took away her eyesight and she fell on the floor.

  “Fljótdís!” Astrid shouted in horror as Fljótdís tried to get up, only to receive another even more powerful blow.

  She felt the darkness close in, but it wasn’t the right time to give herself to it. She tried to rise but got another blow and collapsed on the floor again. As she rolled to her back, she saw her attacker’s face smiling down at her.

  “You should have chosen me, Fljótdís,” Irena said, holding a large shield in her hand. “Your father has brought you nothing but destruction. Now you’ll have to pay for your foolish decisions.”

  Irena raised the shield again and for Fljótdís, the world went dark.

  Chapter 22

  She opened her eyes and saw nothing but darkness. No matter how hard she blinked or how often she fell into a restless sleep, each time she opened her eyes, all she saw was a pitch blackness. It stank of wet ground and the blood and waste of the last prisoner of this place who was definitely walking the halls of Helheim. Soon, she would be doing the same.

  She stretched her legs and the chains around her wrists clanked harshly. She rubbed her aching joints where the chains had left the bruises of her countless and luckless tries to break free.

  At first, she had been overtaken by desperation, by the need to break free. She couldn’t be in prison. Not here. Not now. But when no one answered her shouted threats, she realized that exhausting herself gained her nothing. She needed to keep herself calm and think of a way to get out of here. It required a huge amount of self-control, but for now, she was surviving.

  The sound of footsteps... Since her sight was stolen by this dark cell, her other senses became stronger. She heard distant noises, although it was very hard to hear through these stone walls. But sometimes she caught a bit of laughter when the guards told each other some nasty joke or when there was a changing of the watch.

  One thing she heard clearly, the screams of prisoners who were tortured and sent to their deaths. Those screams echoed in every corner of the cell.

  She straightened her back when the footsteps unexpectedly stopped in front of her cell. The lock in the heavy wooden door was stiff and uncooperative, but with a loud curse from the man with the key, the door creaked open.

  The blinding light of a torch made her cover her eyes. It was more terrible than the darkness. Usually, a guard just came in and tossed some piece of moulded bread and dirty water at her feet and then quickly left. But this time, he didn’t leave, and her ears caught the sound of more footsteps approaching.

  Three men stood in her cell. She felt the familiar flood of hatred rise in her heart as she looked into the eyes of the man she loathed beyond all reason. She started to stand up but was reminded by the harsh pull of the chains that that was not an option.

  “What do you want?” No more would she add any words of respect for his title.

  Harald nodded for both guards to leave them alone. He put the torch in a holder on the wall and watched as the others closed the door behind themselves. His smile was laced with menace and deviousness. “I want to offer you a deal.”

  Fljótdís snorted derisively. “A deal? I would rather make a deal with Hel herself than with you, you son of a swine.”

  “You’ve made your choice.” He shrugged and leaned down, looking deep into her eyes. “Then only death awaits you.”

  She laughed, surprising him. “You think I am afraid of death?”

  Harald smiled, but there was something ominous and cruel in his eyes. “No, I think you are not. But before I give you that gift, I will make you beg for it. I will take away everything you hold dear, starting with that bastard you love so much.”

  She was beyond anger and hatred now. This was new territory. “If you touch him, I swear by the gods I’ll kill you.”

  He took a handful of her hair and leaned even closer. She felt his breath on her face. His voice was like granite in winter.

  “You still dare to threaten me? I have all the power here.”

  She grabbed his hand and sent a heavy kick straight to that beloved treasure he used to fuck slave girls against their will in the Hall. He let out a howl of pain and stumbled back. Breathing heavily, he looked at her with a hatred that might have melted the walls.

  “You will never stop me,” she ground out. “I won’t give up until you are dead, even if I have to crawl out of Helheim to kill you.”

  Harald straightened with difficulty. “Bold words, bitch.” He gestured to the walls. “Who hears them? No one. No brave warriors at your beck and call, no stupid, grunting hero at your side, no traitorous bastard father to bounce you on his knee and feed you full of lies and false courage. No, you are alone now, alone with all that is to come, alone with the punishment I shall bestow upon you and upon everything you care about.”

  He knocked at the door and the same two guards entered the cell. They looked at the King with questions in their eyes.

  “Hold her,” he commanded. “Tightly!”

  Fljótdís gave each guard a warning look and clenched her fists, but they grabbed her arms and threw her to her knees. She glared up at Harald in challenge.

  He came closer and with all his strength hit her across the face. “It is time to teach you some manners, daughter of Gunnar.”

  A messenger ran into the Great Hall of the little southern village in Torvaldson’s former lands. He looked as if he had come straight from Helheim and he was completely out of breath from his rush.

  “Calm down, friend,” Erik said to him, forcing the man to sit down. He poured him some mead. “Drink it empty and then tell me what has happened. What is your name?”

  The man emptied his mead in one gulp. “My name is Lukka. I bring a message, a terrible message.”

  Erik frowned. “What message?”

  “Fljótdís, Harald has arrested her.” He looked as though he expected to be thrashed for bringing such news.

  “He did what?!” Helgi’s voice was so loud that everyone laid a hand on their weapons.

  “He accuses her of treachery. Says she tried to murder him and take the throne.”

  Erik looked at Helgi and then back at the messenger. “What you are telling me is absolute nonsense. She would never do that. She is loyal to the King beyond all reason.”

  Lukka shook his head. “Not anymore. No one believes in the King’s tale about treachery. Everyone knows that the true reason for it was that King Harald killed her father and she sought revenge.”

  Erik turned around and flipped the table with a monstrous roar of anger, causing everyone to take a step back.

  Helgi’s hand was tight around the handle of his battle axe. “How long since she was arrested?”

  “Five days.”

  Erik’s rage filled the room. “Five days in those gods-cursed dungeons?”

  Helgi poured himself another cup of mead.
“Calm yourself. We need to think this through.”

  Erik gave him a look that said he must have lost his mind. “You are asking me to calm down, to calm down when my wife is in prison? Have you lost your senses, Helgi?” He started to pace the length of the Hall. “We must get her out of there.”

  The messenger took a prudent step back. “There’s something else.”

  Erik gave him a look that would cause most men to run. “There is more?”

  Lukka gave Helgi a quick glance in hopes of protection but found no help there. “The King has given an order to arrest you as soon as you enter the town.”

  Helgi shook his head. “You can’t go there, Erik. He’ll throw you in the dungeons as well.”

  Eric stopped in front of Helgi, his eyes full of determination. “Nevertheless, I will go.”

  Olaf hoped that Erik would listen to him at least. “Harald will kill you, Erik. You know it to be true. Do you want that? What purpose would it serve?”

  Erik looked at his friend. “It kills me already to know that Fljótdís is alone there, do you understand? It kills me to know that she needs my help, but I am not there. I should never have left her there unprotected. May the gods damn Harald till the End of Times!” He sat down heavily, trying to cool his anger. “We need a plan.”

  Olaf downed his mead. “We could gather men...”

  Helgi stroked his red beard. “We could never gather enough to stand against Harald’s men. And even if we could, it would take months.”

  Erik banged his fist against the wall. “We cannot wait months! He may be killing her as we speak. Forget it, I’ll go alone.”

  Helgi dismissed this plan with a wave of his hand. “There’s another entrance into the prison, Erik, one from outside the town. There is a labyrinth of old caves and tunnels. It will be hard to track the way, but if we can find a guard who isn’t loyal to Harald, someone who might be persuaded to help us if the purse is big enough...”

  Olaf’s expression was sceptical. “What about these tunnels? Who knows about them?”

  Helgi frowned in thought. “People say they were there long before the town was built. Stories tell that there was another town then, but Loki’s screams shattered the ground and half of the fjord drowned everyone.”

  Erik stood up abruptly. “I know who can help us find a man worthy of trust.”

  Olaf and Helgi turned to their leader.

  “Queen Astrid.”

  “Harald’s wife?” Olaf’s scepticism doubled.

  “She and Fljótdís are good friends. She will help us.”

  Olaf’s scepticism grew into genuine doubt. “And what if she betrays us?”

  Helgi laid his hand on the handle of his axe. “She won’t. She hates the King as much as we do. I will ride to the town and speak to her. Lukka, you’ll join me. We will leave immediately.”

  The messenger nodded.

  Helgi watched as Erik started toward the door. He raised his hand toward Olaf who thought to follow him out. “Give him a little space for a while.”

  Erik strode out of the Great Hall. The day was bright, but the sun didn’t warm him. He felt only cold anger and hate. His only wish was to see Harald’s life ebbing away at his feet. If something had happened to Fljótdís...

  He loved her with all of his life. He never thought he could love someone so much. Yes, she was the Commander and she was a far greater warrior than he was, no matter how hard that was to admit. She always knew how to solve any problem and situation. Except now. There was no chance to solve anything while she was in the King’s dungeons. She needed help and protection. He was her husband, almost. Lately so much had happened that they hadn’t had a chance to drink at their wedding. Something always intruded, postponing their happiest day.

  This was the product of his personal failure, his mistake, and it burned so deeply the pain it created was unbearable. The greatest treasure of his life was now slipping out of his hands, locked away, perhaps lost to him forever. There had been too many failures in his life, starting with the one many years ago when he had been captured. He should have fought and died for his family. But he had given up and let those people take him away and torture him.

  This time he would not give up. That kiss so many years ago at the Great Hall still burned in his memory. It was always there, although, on that fateful night, he had never hoped to see her again. But not for a single moment did he forget her. He saw her in his daydreams and even in nightmares, slipping away, teasing and then leaving, luring him into the darkness.

  He had tried to erase her image with other women and he had lived his life in ways that allowed for no time to think of a woman he could never have, always on the edge of danger and death. And yet nothing helped. The memories of her were too strong. She had left a mark not only on his face but in his heart as well. And that mark cut deeper than the sharpest blade. His fate had been sealed that night. He would not lose her again, even if it cost him his life just to free her.

  He sensed Helgi standing at his side. Helgi watched the calm village go on with its rhythms. There was a mixture of worry and anger on his face. He wanted Harald’s death as much as everyone who was loyal to Fljótdís and the news was bad.

  “Hakon is dead, Erik. He died protecting Fljótdís. Seems that all of our brothers die. Gunnar, Ari, Ulrik...now Hakon as well.”

  Erik said nothing.

  Helgi rubbed his brow in thought. “I know Fljótdís feels responsible for these losses. She feels guilty for their deaths. You saw how much Ulrik’s death shattered her. She is strong, but even she needs support from time to time.”

  Both men stood in thought. Helgi broke the silence. “I watched her grow from a young girl who was eager to fight into the King’s Commander. I have seen it in her eyes, how sometimes it gets too hard for her to go on. I fear what this betrayal has done to her.”

  Erik tried to shut out the terrible images in his own mind, images of what the King might be doing to her at this moment. “She is strong, Helgi. You will see.”

  Helgi clapped his hand on Erik’s shoulder. “You must take care of her, Erik. Remind her who she is and what is and is not her fault once all of this madness is over.”

  Erik’s expression was distant. “You will come with us then, right, when it’s over? We will all go to the Celtic lands, away from this cursed place.”

  Helgi looked up at the sky. “I would like to, my friend. But when this is over, I shall join my brothers in Valhalla.”

  “What are you saying, Helgi? You won’t come with us?”

  Helgi shook his head. “I will go with you and do all I can to get Fljótdís and you away from that twice damned place. When you’re gone, someone must make Harald pay for Gunnar’s sake. I have seen my closest friends leave this Earth. I am the last one standing. I must do it. And then I will drink with my brothers and Odin.”

  Erik said nothing. He had never given any thought to Helgi’s age. His friend had always been ageless. But he understood every meaning of Helgi’s words and a small voice in the back of his mind told him that he might end up accompanying Helgi in his journey to Valhalla if things went wrong. But for now, he wished to the gods this man could come with him and Fljótdís to a better life on this Earth.

  Helgi squeezed his shoulder. “You are like a son to me, Erik. I trust her to you. In your hands, she will be safe. Now, enough of such talk. Let’s go and get Fljótdís out of that Helheim.”

  Fljótdís opened her eyes again. To her surprise, the cell was filled with torchlight light again. Maybe it had been just a bad dream after all. Maybe she was in bed in her own house with Erik next to her and a warm fire in the hearth. She could even smell soup and that made her stomach shrink into a knot.

  “Fljótdís, do you hear me?” a voice disturbed the peace. “Fljótdís, dear, look at me.”

  A male voice objected. “My lady, you shouldn’t...”

  “I will decide what I should or should not do,” the woman snapped. “Go get a warm blanket.”
r />   “I will have to report to the King.”

  “Go get that bloody blanket and then you can report to him all day long. Move!”

  The man left.

  Fljótdís blinked away the mist before her eyes and met two worried ice blue eyes.

  “My Queen.” She wanted her voice to sound strong, but it was only a whisper.

  She started to sit up, but couldn’t hold back a moan of pain. It felt as if Thor had used her as a target for practising his hammer throwing skill.

  “Slowly,” Astrid cautioned as she helped her to sit up, supporting her back against the wall.

  “Now I know how the Ice Giants feel.” She tried to hold back another groan.

  Astrid shook her head and handed her a cup of water. “And you still can joke about it.”

  Fljótdís let the cold water run down her throat. Each gulp renewed her strength, although right now, her body seemed to exist separately from her. The only things she felt were pain and incredible cold.

  The Queen glanced toward the door. “Where is that damn idiot with the blanket?”

  As if in answer, a man appeared at the door with a blanket. But it was a different man this time because the Queen gave him a warm smile. The guard closed the door and knelt down next to Fljótdís.

  She flinched when he reached out to put the blanket around her shoulders.

  Astrid smoothed Fljótdís’ hair back from her face. “It’s alright. You can trust him.”

  Fljótdís gave the man a doubtful look but allowed him to wrap the blanket around her shoulders.

  He leaned near the Queen. “Eistein went to the King, my lady.”

  Astrid nodded. “I knew he would, the coward. But Harald won’t get me out of here even if he tries.”

  The guard gave Astrid an all-knowing smile. “The King is busy elsewhere. And he will be busy for several more days.”