I pick my sword up from the ground and sling the dirt off it. “Do I make myself clear?!” I shout until my face is red. I’ve had enough of the bullshit. I stomp toward Trident and squat down, lowering my voice to a whisper. “This can be our clean slate. All else I’m willing to put behind me. Are you willing to do the same?”
I stand and make my way to my cabin, leaving the people who have fought by my side behind me. Warlord Einarr shouts something at the men, and suddenly I feel a hand on my shoulder. I flinch. Ever since I was a boy, I have always hated to be touched.
Unless it was Lilith.
“Sir Wulf?”
Ah, the young formal uncertainty in this voice calms me. It is Abram, Warlord Einarr’s son. Well, adopted son. Abram actually came from the Jackals, just like their daughter did. He is young. Only seventeen. He has a scar on his neck where Warlord Einarr burned off the Jackal symbol.
I wasn’t too sure about the young man at first, but he has proven himself. It took a long time to get him into fighting shape, but with time, he will be a great warrior.
Abram fidgets, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down, afraid to meet my eyes. One thing the man hasn’t gained is confidence.
“Look at me when you speak, Abram. Men do not look away. Stand with pride. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Sir Wulf. I… I just wanted to say; I’m sorry about your friend.” He straightens his spine, but the vibrato in his throat trembles with fear.
“Thank you, Abram. That means a lot. You’re a good man.” I clap him on the shoulder, and he stumbles from the strength of my hand. The boy needs to eat more meat and get more muscle on his bones. He has gained thirty pounds with us, but he is still lean and quick. To be a warrior, you must be thick and heavy. I have all the faith in the world he can be a great warrior, but I have a feeling Warlord Einarr won’t use him if he doesn’t gain some weight. Which puts him in an awkward position, considering it is his son. He would have to cut from the warrior line.
It’s always an honor to be in the warrior line. It changes your life. To be a guard for the kingdom is highly sought after. Not many can make the trials.
“Sir Wulf, may I ask something of you?”
“What is it?”
“I’m training with the Warlord, but he refuses to teach me to use a sword.”
Oh, now, this is just cruel. Whose idea was it to have the kid come to me? I can’t say no to a kid. I run my fingers through my hair and sigh, not really wanting to say yes, but knowing I will.
“You’re too small, Abram. You must build muscle first. You couldn’t carry a sword yet.”
“Then train me for that! Father needs me ready for the Jackals, and all he has me do is shoot arrows! I know how to do that!”
“You realize it won’t be easy? You’ll tire quickly. You will spend your days running and lifting. Doing things you won’t expect. I’ll challenge you, make you beg, and wish you were never a warrior. You’ll probably cry for your father and mother. You’ll want to quit.”
“I shall not.” He pushes his chest out and stands up straighter. He has something to prove, but it’s more with himself. I know he is capable. I’ve never seen more determination in anyone.
“Go get an axe and cut down twelve trees. Split the logs, too. I want enough firewood in the castle for the next week. When you are done, find me, and I will train you.”
His mouth drops open. “Truly?”
“Go!” I roar. “I did not tell you to wait!”
“Yes sir!” he snaps out of it, dashing back to find an axe.
I chuckle. That should keep him busy for hours. Turning back, I keep walking back to my cabin. I’m exhausted.
“Wulf!”
“Mother fucker.” I stop in my tracks again and tilt my head up to the sky, trying to calm the raging frustration from being interrupted twice now. What’s a man to do in order to take a cold bath? When I turn around, I expect to see one of the new men, Langlin or Jericho, but to my surprise, I see Trident.
I’m not in the mood. “Can the arguing wait? I’m tired and hungry.”
I spin on my heel and put as much distance as I can between him and me. What was said has been said. It was left on the muddy ground; the dirt has forever soaked up my words. I pinch the bridge of my nose when his boots get closer.
“I’m not in the mood to fight, Trident. Leave it alone for a day, would you?” I take a sharp right into the woods, venturing further into the natural darkness the canopy of the trees provides. My home sits right in the middle. It’s small, just the right size for me. There isn’t even a bedroom. It’s one room that holds a pile of furs and a fireplace. There is a room connected that holds my tub for when I want a warm bath, and next to it, a natural stream I bathe in when it’s warm outside.
“I don’t want to fight.”
“You’re like night and day, man,” I scoff, running my fingers through my dirty brown hair. “Leave me be.” I stomp up the steps of my cabin and slam the door shut, muffling Trident’s shouts of protest. I haven’t the energy to care right now. I just want everyone to leave me alone. I need space. I need to regroup.
I shuck off all my armor and clothes. Kicking off my boots, I groan, relishing the feel of my large feet finally free from the confining leather material. I flop in a tired heap on my animal skins and curse, realizing I forgot to start a fire. If I don’t, with how cold it will be late tonight, I will freeze.
I grunt as I reluctantly roll over to my stomach and push myself up to a standing position. My head swims with exhaustion. I’m so damn tired. Mentally, physically, emotionally. I need a fucking break. I grab a few pieces of wood, the bark scratching my palm as I pick it up and throw it in the hearth. I spark a fire, and in a few moments, large flames engulf the wood, sending warmth onto my skin.
I flop back on the skins and gather a few of them under my head and sigh. I’ll just take a quick nap, and then I’ll go see Lilith.
Just… a… quick…
Chapter Nine
Lilith
Beowulf hasn’t been by today. Every person that walks through the door, my heart speeds up a bit, hoping it is him. When I see that it’s not, pain trickles out of my heart like a slow bleeding wound. Is he tired of the burden of me? Maybe my memory of him—or lack thereof—is too much for him to handle? Has he… given up on me?
“He will be back, Lilith,” Leiva assures me, changing my bandages again. “How do you feel about trying to walk today? We have a long road of recovery ahead of us. Yes, we do. We must start now before those muscles lose any more mass.”
“Sure,” I shrug, but I have no motivation to even try today, not without the support of Beowulf. It’s hard to understand why I’m so attached to him. It’s this visceral need to be near him, and when I’m not, I feel so lost. I have been without him for twelve years, but perhaps that’s just my soul telling me this is how to make up time lost. A part of it scares me. I still only have memories of my torturer, torturess? Is that what they call a female torturer? I don’t know.
But I’m begging for some type of peace. I want to be able to tell him I remember him. There is nothing I want more than to remember the beautiful moments we shared. They must have been beautiful, especially with the pull between us.
I want to put our pieces together more than anything. I want to be able to make a full picture.
“After breakfast, we will try walking, yes?” Leiva asks, placing a bowl full of stew and warm bread with honey on top in front of me. My stomach grumbles and mouth waters as the scent of beef invades my nostrils. Next to it sits a tall cup of buttermilk, thick and creamy. Everything looks delicious.
“Thank you,” I say earnestly and reach for the bowl carrying the delicious chunks of beef and carrots. My palms warm from the heat permeating from the soup, and I inhale, letting the aroma wash over me. I have food. I have shelter. I’m safe. I’ll never go hungry again. I grab hold of the spoon and dip it into the broth, gathering big chunks of potatoes and beef. My lips hit
the wooden utensil and sip, letting the warmth coat my throat. The beef is juicy, and the carrots are tender and have the right amount of crunch. I moan in appreciation.
“This is delicious.” I reach for the buttermilk next and take a big gulp, too big, and it drips down my chin.
“Goodness. Slow down, or you shall make yourself sick,” Leiva scolds, taking the milk from my hand. “Take a breath.”
I wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. “Sorry. It’s so good.”
“It will be there. Take your time.” She waits until I agree to hand me the cup back. This time I take a small sip and place it on the nightstand. I do what she says since she is watching me and eat my soup a bit slower.
I dip my bread into the stew. It soaks up all the savoury goodness, and I nearly shove the entire piece into my mouth. I slide my eyes to Leiva with a bit of guilt, who is standing with her arms crossed. She gives up and rolls her eyes, flapping her hands at me in dismissal, and struts away.
In a few minutes, I’m scraping my bowl. I wish it would magically refill. I chug the buttermilk down and set the empty plates aside. I’m alone. I can’t help but wonder what Beowulf is doing. It isn’t like him to be gone so long.
“Right, are you ready to try walking, dear?” Leiva wipes her hands on her apron while standing next to me.
I’m not. I don’t want to walk out of the castle without wearing the gown Beowulf got me. “I’ll go on one condition.”
“The one condition cannot be to get you stronger?” she asks, yanking the blanket back from my body.
I shake my head with a small laugh and bite my bottom lip. I dart my eyes to the beautiful dress. My skin aches to have the soft material of the velvet against me. “I want to change into this dress,” I lift my arm to point at the sapphire blue dress taking up the seat Beowulf usually occupies.
“I see. How about I braid your hair first? We will make it a genuine outing and get some fresh air.”
“Oh, I’d love that. Please.” I sit up and swing my legs over the bed, ready to get out of this room. I hope Beowulf is out there when I get up, so he can see I’m not all bedridden and useless.
Leiva starts with my hair and grabs a comb. She disappears behind me, and my eyes shut as the wooden bristles softly scrape my scalp. There are tangles, but it doesn’t hurt. It feels good. Section by section, Leiva makes my hair beautiful again. I’m nearly asleep by the time she is done. She places the long braid over my shoulder, and I run my fingers down the ridges of the soft silky strands. It actually looks lovely.
“Thank you,” I choke out through emotion. Everyone here has been so kind. I’ve been nothing but a nightmare. “You have no idea how this makes me feel.”
“Oh, sweetie. If I would have known how much that would have lightened up those spirits of yours, I would have done it days ago. Up now, let’s get this dress on.”
I stand by myself for the first time in days and smile when I don’t fall over. I’m proud of myself. It may seem like a small step for others, but for me, it’s a big step into what my future holds.
“Well, this is just gorgeous. I never thought Wulf had such lovely taste,” Leiva teases, running her palms over the front of the dress.
“He is sweet. There is more to him than just brute strength,” I say a bit defensively. Even though Beowulf’s strength is very… appealing to me, there is more to him than battles and killing. He is kind and thoughtful. I’m starting to wonder if people choose not to see that about him, just so they can keep him in the box labeled ‘warrior.’
“I didn’t mean to make you upset. I only mean he is so big and gruff. He nearly grunts answers whenever he is asked a question.”
“He doesn’t grunt at me,” I mumble as she pulls the dress over my head.
“Well of course he doesn’t. It’s you. He seems to save all of his best qualities for you and you only.” Leiva has a knowing gleam in her eye, the same one I feel in my heart. I just wish my mind would catch up with it already. I want to remember.
No, I must. I must and I shall.
“Wow,” Leiva marvels with a bright smile. “He did wonderfully. You look stunning. Let me show you.” Leiva slides her arm through mine to help me walk to the nearby mirror.
What I see makes me gasp. My hand covers my mouth as I stare at the woman in front of me. I hardly recognize her. She actually looks… pretty. Not run down and defeated. No, she is healing, getting stronger, braver, and more confident. The transition is slow, but I know I can do it. I refuse to let fear sicken me like the poison it is.
“Oh, it’s beautiful.” Slowly, I run my hands down my torso and wince. I am still too thin. I’ve lost too much weight, but that will get fixed in time.
Leiva takes my arm and guides me to the doors. The doors that will lead me out of this room and into the sunlight. The portal to a new journey. But I don’t move. For some reason, my feet are glued to the floor, staring at the large wooden doors like they are out to hurt me.
What if I don’t like what I see out there? Worse, what if Beowulf doesn’t like what he sees when he sees me? There are so many questions. I place my hand against my forehead, a bit faint and overwhelmed, but I’m determined to cross the doorway. I must, for my sanity.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Let’s do this,” I give a tired smile to my caretaker and take a shaky step forward, releasing a breath I wasn’t even aware I’ve been holding. I turn my head and smile at Leiva, proud that I took my first step.
“Good. Yes. This is a good start,” She matches my slow pace and takes a step with me. Soon, she opens the heavy doors, and for the first time, I see something other than the medical corridor.
My eyes widen as I glance around the impressive large foyer. “My goddess,” I whisper, hypnotized by the beauty surrounding me. To the left, a long, wide, spiraling staircase climbs the height of the tower. Under the staircase is an open door, it seems to be the kitchen from what I see laid upon the table. Fruits, breads, and meats. My stomach rumbles from the sight. I don’t care that I just ate. I want more. I’m starving.
Leiva must see my hungry stare because she laughs and pats my arm. “After the walk, we shall get you more food. I’m glad to see your appetite is coming back.”
“Me too,” I whisper, keeping my eyes ahead and chin up. I meet a few stares of certain warriors I’ve never seen before. I want to ask about Beowulf, but I keep my lips shut. When they give me a nod in a greeting, I give them a smile in return.
“Erik,” Leiva greets. “Please open the door for us. It is Lilith’s first day out.” She puffs her chest out with pride, and I don’t miss how Erik’s eyes drift down to her bosom for a moment.
“Of course, Leiva.” Erik gives a flirtatious smile, but Leiva doesn’t seem to notice. The man schools his features and stands straight, looking ahead again, and opens the door. But I see the disappointment in his eye. I wonder how long he has held an interest in Leiva. “Enjoy the day, Leiva and Lilith.”
“Thank you,” Leiva takes a step forward, but then I see it. The little side eye she gives Erik as we make our way down the steps. And of course, he didn’t see it because he wasn’t looking.
I shouldn’t spend energy on match making. I have my own problems to think about. We take another step, and another, the stone rubbing against my bare feet, and then I land in soft green grass. Tears prickle my eyes as I wiggle my toes in the lush landscape. It’s so soft. Leiva grabs a hold of my hand, and I bend down and take my free hand to touch the magnificent blades.
The sun bears down on me, warming my skin, and with my hand to the ground and my face to the sky, tears of pure joy run down my face. Everything feels so good. The sun is bright, and though it is cool outside, the fresh air fills my lungs. The grass smells fresh and earthy. I just want to lay in it forever as the sun basks me in its heat.
“Lilith, how do you feel?” Leiva asks.
“I feel wonderful, Leiva. This is so beautiful. How could anyone ever stay inside?”
“Probably because you are in the dark all the time,” I tease her. “And it doesn’t let you see that Sir Erik has an eye for you.”
Her cheeks blush, and she clears her throat, looking around to make sure no one heard me.
“That’s just preposterous.” She shakes her head and tucks a piece of imaginary hair behind her ear. Her hair is up in a tight bun. It must be a habit. She peeks over her shoulder and spins to look back at me.
“He is looking at me. Oh, dear.” She tucks that piece of ‘hair’ again.
I fall over in fits of laughter when I see a hint of her youth shine through, but it’s mixed with this wise quality that makes her absolutely adorable.
“Goddess, I’ve missed seeing the sun on you.”
My laughter slowly diminishes when I recognize the voice that’s been keeping me waiting all morning.
Chapter Ten
Beowulf
I’m entranced.
The last time I saw something so beautiful was twelve years ago when she laid in the field of wildflowers. I’m taken to the past in an instant. She smiles wide from laughter, laying on the ground like she has always loved to do. She is slowly finding herself again. Even if she doesn’t know it, I do. Her blonde hair glows in the sunlight, coming back to life after seeing so much darkness.
When she notices my voice, she gets to her knees, and Leiva helps her up to her feet. Lilith is getting stronger every day. That’s my girl. I knew she would.
“Beowulf,” she says with surprise, brushing off the dirt from her dress. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
Guilt swims in me. I slept so much longer than I intended to. I needed time to regroup, and my body just let the exhaustion take me. Everyone thinks I’m indestructible, but they couldn’t be more wrong. I fall, just like everyone else.
Beowulf's Claim (Viking Warriors Book 3) Page 7