The young giant who delivered the blow nodded. “The coalman was right. He’s still here.”
Strong hands picked him up. Through a haze—after a blow like that he expected to be spitting out teeth for three days—he felt a rope tighten around his wrists. Then they dragged him off.
Will they kill me? Probably. Farewell, Anna…
***
The Pig and Dog was fairly clean, and the floors were covered with straw that, while not fresh, was not rotten. The tables were clean enough to sit at, and she could touch the cup and plate without feeling disgusted.
Lily liked the looks of the innkeeper. Tall and hearty, with blond hair and blue eyes, he reminded Lily of a Viking.
“Is the keeper a Virman, too?”
“You bet. He bought this inn about twenty years ago, and he’s done real well for himself,” Art answered.
The food was good. They were served large pieces of roasted goat, a hot soup made of something like beans, goat cheese, soft rye bread, and a savory drink served in clay cups that reminded her of mead. Judging by the taste, it was no more than five-percent alcohol. Barely more than water.
Lily noted that she would need to distill something like moonshine for medical uses. As far as she could tell, the strongest drink they had was something called “iced” wine. This was wine made from grapes that had been frozen to remove a portion of the water, making it a little stronger than regular wine. It tastes like juice, but I’ll be glad for a glass of it after this trip!
Lily frowned as she bit down on a chunk of goat meat. The trip was doing her good. Her dresses already felt looser, but she had a long way to go. And she needed to do strength training to avoid baggy skin.
Is this hard? Does it hurt? Too bad. I just have to grit my teeth and keep going. My parents are gone, but I’m alive. Somebody must really want me to be in this world. And I owe Lilian Earton something, too. She’s dead, and I’m living on in her body. I want to live a life that I can be proud of.
She had other, more far-reaching goals, as well…
I don’t want to just plant crops and build houses. I want to do my best to prevent this world from repeating the mistakes I saw in my world so that technological progress doesn’t outstrip moral and ethical progress. First, I have to invent paper and promote literacy. Then I’ll write a bunch of books. And I’ll need a travel-size set of lead weights to keep my hopes from getting too high…
***
“Innkeeper, bring more wine!” Leif hollered and banged his fist on the table, even though the innkeeper was already hurrying toward the Virmans’ table. They were his countrymen, at any rate.
Leif was feeling rotten inside. His people called it “cat scratches” when a man’s soul was ripped up, but Leif was sure the cats had already dug a deep moat around his heart. He only knew of one way out—to drown the cats in cheap wine. He couldn’t afford expensive wine, or even something decent.
It all started back in Virma… a small, rocky and inhospitable island at first sight, but it was his home. When Leif closed his eyes, he could see the steel-gray waves hitting the shore and the seagulls spreading their wings against the low sky. The home he had been forced to leave was in Erkvig. It had a low, sloping roof, and the fireplace in the room where he was born—and where all his ancestors had been born and died—was charred black with soot.
In his mind’s eye, he saw the thick column of smoke rising into the sky and blotting all of it out. The Virman moaned softly. He didn’t hear himself, and he didn’t notice how Ingrid glanced worriedly at her friend, or how the innkeeper turned pale, knowing if the table of Virmans took to drinking to drown their sorrows, it would be the end of him. They could pull the whole place down and leave a pile of burning woodchips.
Leif knew the fire he had left behind, and he knew he would never go back.
Ingrid put her small hands on his shoulders. “Leif…” The Virman smiled and turned to his beloved. He had no idea how that smile changed his face. Instead of a seasoned cutthroat, he looked like a young man in love with a queen, or a goddess. The innkeeper had reason to hope that the day might end without a fight.
***
Virma is a small island inhabited by large clans. Most of the time they get along fine and intermarry, but sometimes they get involved in feuds. The Erkvig and Torsveg families were sworn enemies. Leif had killed two Torsvegs, and he knew who was responsible for his brother’s death. He had wanted to get another one of them in revenge, but he had missed his chance.
The Virmans put away their swords one day a year, on the day set aside for Fleina, the goddess of love and fertility. On that day, no one risked spilling even a drop of human blood. They propitiated their goddess by dancing, jumping over fires, and partying all night. Anyone who failed to celebrate the day properly would be struck by infertility. If the goddess turned away from a Virman, his love would bear no fruit. Such was her power.
On that very day, the oldest of the Erkvigs and the youngest of the Torsvegs met their deaths.
Everyone was making merry. Young people were burning bonfires on the beach and having a great time. Leif had just returned from a campaign and was staying with a friend. He was not one for games and merrymaking on the beach. He just wasn’t interested. His mother often reminded him that it was time for him to wed, but he felt like an old sea-wolf who didn’t want to be chained down. His friend talked him into going, however, and it just so happened that Ingrid ran away from her nannies and her brothers to see what was happening there.
Leif saw her leap over one of the bonfires in a storm of golden sparks. Just at that moment, Fleina smiled at him. The young woman in the simple dress seemed so beautiful to him that his heart beat faster than it ever had before.
“Who is she?” he asked his friend in a gruff voice. He didn’t know, so Leif decided to approach her.
No Virman was willing to risk the wrath of Fleina. Everyone needed someone to love, and it was in Fleina’s power to bestow that love. As his legs carried him past the bonfire, Leif was worried that Fleina would punish him for avoiding the festivities in previous years, but the girl did not look away. She stood there and looked him in the face, and he saw something strange in her eyes. He had wondered, Embarrassment? Confusion? Or was it…
Leif would not have been surprised if she had cried out and run away. He had never been handsome in his youth, and he was nothing to look at now. He knew that the sea and the wind had turned his skin brown, and that his nose was broken in two places, and that he had old scars crisscrossing his cheek and chin. Even so, the girl looked him straight in the face. She didn’t move away when he got closer. Instead, she smiled and held out a hand.
“I’m Ingrid. Who are you?”
“Leif.”
“Leif.” The way she repeated his name made it sound like music. “I’ve never seen you before, Leif.”
That night they became husband and wife—on the one night of the year that young people were allowed to exchange vows in front of the priest, standing by the bonfire that burned to honor Fleina. Such vows were valid in Virma, as honorable as wedding bracelets in Ativerna. Neither dowry nor parental permission was required.
Young people didn’t even have to give their family names. All the priest asked was their first names as he joined their hands over the sacrificial fire and poured a few drops of blood into the flames. Perhaps the priest was under the control of the fertility goddess, who wanted to reconcile the two feuding families. Humans are still humans, however, and they often prefer to make war instead of love.
They were discovered at dawn. No one was really looking for them. Gunnor Torsveg had just thought it would be a good idea to burn his enemy’s ship, but when he got to the beach, he was surprised to discover his own sister sleeping on its deck in the arms of his sworn enemy.
Unfortunately, Leif didn’t have time to think through what was happening. He always slept lightly, and that night, he lay awake holding his beloved, who had fallen asleep in his arms. She was his woman
.
When a rowboat bumped into the side of his ship, Leif carefully set Ingrid down and reached over to where he kept his knives. There were eight of them; he figured that would be enough. He waited to see what would happen. Gunnor climbed aboard with a bucket of tar and froze when he saw his sister. That gave Leif time to throw his knives. One hit Gunnor, and one hit his friend as he climbed onto the boat. Leif tossed their bodies overboard and covered his beloved with a fur blanket. She was still asleep, and he didn’t want to disturb these moments of peace. A few hours later, his men began to return to the ship and told their leader that Henrik Torsveg was looking for his daughter, Ingrid, who hadn’t returned from the merrymaking on the beach the night before. Suddenly, the Virman began to suspect that he had given his vow to the daughter of his worst enemy.
When asked, the woman simply nodded. “I was a Torsveg, but now I’m yours. You can keep me or kill me as you like. I won’t argue. I’d rather die now than have to live without you.”
“Did you know who I was?”
“No. My father never told me much. I always thought that Erkvigs were wild animals. I was stupid.”
Leif could tell she wasn’t lying, not for a second. She kept her loving eyes on him the entire time they spoke. It was love! Then she trustingly handed him his knives, knowing that he might stick one of them through her throat.
Leif put his knives away, but one thing became clear to him: he couldn’t live in the same country as the Torsvegs. If he stayed, there would be war. His father, mother, and brothers would never forgive him for marrying the daughter of their oldest enemy. And the Torsvegs would never forgive him for the death of Gunnor and for taking Ingrid. They would look for revenge. Leif was not afraid of fighting, but…
He decided his best move would be to tell his parents everything and then leave the island for a while. His father was understanding. He approved of killing Gunnor. Then he studied Ingrid, who was pale but stood straight as an arrow.
He smiled. “Fine. We’ll continue our talk away from the women’s ears. Let your mother meet her new daughter-in-law.”
Leif’s father had no objections to his plan. Leif left his family everything he brought home from his last campaign, taking only the bare necessities back to the boat. He and his men could always procure what they needed. The sea takes care of Virmans.
Thirty men joined him on his boat. They were his band. Ingrid was accompanied by nine other women who didn’t want to spend several years apart from their husbands. There were twelve children on board, as well. There was room in the hold for them all.
All would have gone well, but once they were at sea, they encountered Henrik’s ship. It had a red shield mounted on the bow, facing outward.[9]
They engaged in battle. Ingrid begged Leif not to fight her father, and she tried to call to her father that she was Leif’s wife now, but her attempts were in vain. Henrik shot the first arrow at his daughter, hoping to kill her. If Leif hadn’t thrown his shield in front of her in time, she would have fallen dead. He dragged her to the deck and handed her to one of his men, who put her in the hold with the other women. The battle raged on.
It was not like a normal battle, where one group of men fought another. This battle was all about Leif. He lost control when he saw the arrow aimed at Ingrid. That was unforgivable. The demon in him awoke, and Leif gave an order that he never regretted: “Shoot with fire!”
Leif won the battle because of a new weapon he had paid dearly for at the market. No one knew what the steppe warriors put in their fire missiles, but the liquid in them would burn even in water. Just five missiles did the job. Henrik’s boat caught fire like a struck match. The men on his boat were on fire, too. All Leif’s men had to do was finish them off with arrows and spears.
Some men would have said that there was no honor in such a fight. Leif did not care. His job was to keep his men alive and to protect his wife. When he thought of the danger to his wife, it seemed to him that Henrik had not suffered enough.
His men were alive, but Ingrid mourned for her father for three days. For the first time in his life, Leif felt helpless. But with time, all sorrows pass, and Ingrid came around. One night, while he was standing watch at the tiller, she came to him and rested her cheek on his shoulder.
“Forgive me.”
“For what? It is your job to forgive me. I know he was your father, but I had no choice. We would all be dead if I hadn’t fought as I did.”
“I know. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Don’t leave me. Please.”
“Never.”
“Never…”
And then they found themselves in Ativerna, which was where their real problems started. No one at the port of Altver was glad to see them; Virmans generally meant trouble. But Leif had to find a place to spend the winter with his crew and a way to feed them.
He had some money, but it wouldn’t last long. It would be dangerous to try to waylay ships and rob them while living in Ativerna, where piracy was not a way of life as it was in Virma. He would be away from home for several years and had no desire for trouble.
Leif and Ingrid stopped at The Pig and Dog on a whim. Ingrid had wanted to refresh her stores of herbal remedies, so Leif took her to the fair. After making their purchases, they stopped to eat at the inn. That was a mistake.
When an insolent young man at another table started trying to attract Ingrid’s attention, Leif groaned inwardly. Ingrid was everything to him. Fleina had made her as flawless as the sun, and he knew that suitors would have taken her house by storm if her parents hadn’t hidden her. Now that she had been noticed, he would have to raise anchor and leave the port. Even such a drastic measure might not help. If his new enemy tried to sail after him, he had only two of the fire missiles left. They wouldn’t be enough…
And then, out of nowhere, Leif was rescued by a large woman in a pink dress.
Chapter 6
Truth and Trust
“What’s all that noise about?”
Lily was distracted from her problems by the sounds of a fight about to break out. She looked around the inn. Art and her guards were seated at a table. Sherl was at the bar talking to the innkeeper about getting rooms for the night. Where was the noise coming from?
When she saw the two men, Lily gasped and put her hands to her face. One was a typical Virman: tall, blonde, and powerfully built. Lily raised her eyebrows when she caught sight of the fair-haired woman hiding behind him. She was strikingly beautiful and had a perfect figure. The tall Virman had a friend with him. They were faced by three angry ‘rich boys’.
No matter what year it is or what world you’re in, Lily thought. The children of rich parents are all the same. Like fungus and tapeworms. They look the same, walk the same, and their butts have never been whipped. That’s a shame. Who let those fools think they could do whatever they wanted?
“That’s the Baron’s son,” Lily heard someone say. Apparently, the young man was well known for causing trouble and providing free entertainment wherever he went. I see. He’s the Baron’s son. And a rude little prick, to boot.
“Who’s that with him?”
“His buddies. They’re nobility, too, you see.”
Lily snorted. Of course, they were nobility. She focused on what the young men were saying.
“You’re just a puppy,” the Virman growled. Lily agreed with him.
The Baron’s son shot back, “You, serf, had better leave that whore with us and be on your way. She’ll catch up with you later if she wants to, but I doubt she will. She looks like she’ll enjoy being with real men. So get lost. This is no place for the likes of you.”
Lily watched as the Virman put his hand on his sword. Then she looked at the Baron’s son and the lovely young woman, who was pale as a sheet.
Then she looked around the inn and counted quickly. Who else is in here? Any city guards?
Two tables away, she saw a couple of men in red and blue capes.
“Are those city guar
ds?” she asked Art.
“I think so, My Lady.”
It was obvious that no fight had started yet, and the three rich boys were still alive because of the presence of the city guards. They were also the reason the locals were getting out of hand. Two men, even Virmans, had no chance against the three rich boys and the city guards. What would happen to the girl? What on Earth am I sitting here for? She can’t be a day over sixteen, and she’s scared to death. If I don’t put a stop to this, someone’s going to throw a punch, and then they’ll all drag this place down around our ears. They look like professional brawlers.
She stood up from her table.
“My Lady, where are you going?” Art asked.
Lily put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll explain later.”
She picked up a pitcher and a bowl of soup and headed toward where the fight was brewing.
“You belong in a pigsty,” the baron’s son finished his speech.
Lily aimed.
Fire!
The soup hit all three of the young men, and the bowl split in half against the head of one of them. He yelped and landed on the floor. The baron’s son and his remaining friend turned to look at Lily and received a pitcher of wine for their trouble.
“Cool off, idiots,” Lily told them icily. “How dare you behave like this in the presence of the Countess of Earton?”
She knew what she looked like to them. Her clothes were dirty from traveling, but they were expensive. Her face was aristocratic. She was wearing costly emerald earrings, a ring stamped with a crown, and a gold wedding bracelet set with emeralds. And she really was a Countess, which meant she had the advantage—although she would have dealt just fine with those fools in her own world, even without a title.
The young men’s faces turned red. Lily continued her tirade before any of them could speak. “If my son behaved like you, I would have him whipped. Get out of this inn and don’t come back until you can drink ale without turning into stupid beasts. Otherwise, I’ll have these Virmans throw you out. I’m sure they will obey the Countess of Earton, who simply wishes to rest after a long journey.”
First lessons Page 11