Viking Vow

by S. T. Bende

  “A different girl was chosen to serve Clan Bjorn,” Ragfinn said quietly. “But she was weak, and wouldn’t have made it through a month as a thrall. Ingrid had the fiercest will of any of our girls, to say nothing of her physical strength. When Tirvald volunteered her in the other girl’s place . . . we knew at least she would survive.”

  I shook my head. “She survived. But what they did to her . . .”

  Borghild studied me with pleading eyes. “Is she all right?”

  “Yes.” I wanted to shout no thanks to you! But Erik’s steadying hand kept me in check. “I met her when I was a captive of Bjorn’s. What they put her through was unimaginable. But you were right—she’s the strongest girl I’ve ever met. We both belong to Valkyris now.”

  “Oh, thank the gods!” Borghild practically collapsed in relief.

  Erik frowned. “You should thank the gods that your chief has had the foresight to decide to implement policies that protect the rest of your girls from suffering similar fates.”

  Borghild’s eyes widened. “Is this true?”

  “I have agreed to align with Clan Valkyris,” Ragfinn conceded. “Though how effective their policies will be in a settlement this remote remains to be determined.”

  “Oh, we’ll protect your girls,” Erik swore. “Or, rather, we’ll give you the tools you need to do that yourself.”

  “My Ingrid.” Borghild’s eyes sought mine. “Is she happy?”

  “Happier than she was living with Bjorn,” I said honestly.

  Borghild’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Does she hate me?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “She’s not thrilled with her father, that’s for sure. I’m not positive where she stands on you.”

  Borghild’s eyes filled with tears. “When you see her, tell her . . . tell her I’m sorry. I should have fought harder for her—should have demanded Tirvald set his pride aside and save our daughter. I know she would have, if our roles had been reversed. She was always so much stronger than I am. And now . . .”

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I reached out to touch Borghild’s arm. “And now she’s fighting to make sure nobody else ever goes through what she did. She’s an amazing person. You should be proud.”

  “I am.” Borghild clasped her hand over mine. “Please. Just tell her . . . I love her.”

  My eyes burned. I swallowed the lump in my throat as I whispered, “I will.”

  Erik’s hand tightened around my shoulder. “We should get back to the dragon. If we’re staying the night, we need to get her settled somewhere.”

  Ragfinn stood, his chair scraping against the rough wood of the floor. “Come. I will show you to your quarters. Borghild, you may tell Tirvald we’ll be hosting our guests overnight.”

  “Yes, Chief.” Borghild bowed her head and scurried from the building. As Erik, Ragfinn, and I followed her, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if Ingrid ever saw her mother again. And God forbid, if I had to face Ingrid’s father during my stay . . .

  Breathe, Saga. Just breathe.

  I hoped I didn’t destroy our new alliance before it had even begun.

  Chapter 13

  LATER THAT NIGHT ERIK and I walked into the meeting hall, where Chief Ragfinn had organized a communal dinner in our honor. He’d announced us only as “visitors from the south,” and told his clansmen we had stayed to help increase the tribe’s protetctions. Everyone had to know we belonged to Clan Valkyris—they had helped us find a suitable pasture for our dragon. But they welcomed us without question, a testament to the trust they put in their chief. Only one man was bold enough to approach the table where we sat with Ragfinn—a man with anger in his eyes and bitterness in his voice. His crimson hair fell in ringlets around his shoulders, and he bore the air of someone who would have rather been absolutely anywhere but there.

  Ingrid’s father had a major complex. And I was about to get a master class in biting my tongue.

  “Chief Ragfinn.” Tirvald angled his head in the least possible version of a bow.

  “Tirvald.” Ragfinn nodded. “These are our guests, Erik and Saga.”

  “I see them.” Tirvald’s upper lip twitched. His distaste was beyond obvious.

  Same, buddy.

  “The other council members wanted me to ask you . . .” Tirvald leaned in to Ragfinn. “. . . these visitors—are you certain you can trust them?”

  Erik’s knuckles whitened around his cup.

  “We can hear you,” I said calmly. “And yes. We’re trustworthy.”

  “I wasn’t asking you, woman.” Tirvald spat the word.

  Oh, no he didn’t.

  “Well, I was answering you.” I kept a cool demeanor, hoping to offset the knuckles cracking around the poor cup to my left. “We have the best interest of your tribe at heart—all the members of your tribe. And we are here to ensure Clan Firense is able to take care of itself in the days ahead.”

  “Clan Firense has always taken care of itself.” Tirvald spoke to Ragfinn—I guess addressing a woman was beyond his capacity. “We do not require outsiders to advise us in matters of governance.”

  “I never said anything about governance,” Ragfinn said softly. “My statement to the tribe was that our guests would be assisting in increasing our protections. Which means you have been eavesdropping, Tirvald. Why have you lost faith in your chief?”

  Tirvald’s eyes darted to the table where Borghild sat with five other women. Her head was lowered, and she shoved food into her mouth as if she were afraid she’d be called away at any moment.

  “I’ve done no such thing,” Tirvald spluttered. “But trusting outsiders over the advice of your council amounts to treason. To betray us in such a manner is—”

  “Silence.” Ragfinn held up one hand. “These outsiders have come to me in good faith, and offered a solution to a problem we are unable to manage ourselves. Go back to your table. I’ll hear no more complaints from you.”

  Tirvald’s face reddened, and the veins in his neck bulged. “You cannot dismiss your chief councilor without first hearing my—”

  “He can. And he did. Leave us.” Erik’s eyes narrowed. “I won’t ask again.”

  Tirvald’s eyes shot daggers of fury first at Ragfinn, then at Erik. By the time he reached me his gaze had morphed to one of pure, unadulterated hatred.

  I’d be sleeping with one eye open.

  Tirvald stormed away, pausing at his wife’s table long enough to grab her arm and wrench her from her seat. The poor woman was taken from her dinner mid-bite as her husband dragged her out of the hall, and into the frosty night.

  Erik pushed his chair back and stood. “Will he hurt her?”

  Ragfinn cast his eyes downward. “Possibly. Tirvald answers to no one, and though I have discouraged his fits in the past, Borghild’s bruises suggest he does not heed my council.”

  Screw that.

  “Go,” I hissed at Erik. “She can stay with us if she needs to.”

  “I fear that will make it worse for her when you leave,” Ragfinn said.

  Well, skit.

  “We’ll deal with the future later. He won’t hurt her tonight,” Erik vowed. He bent down to touch my cheek with one finger before marching determinedly from the building.

  God, I loved that Viking.

  When Erik was gone, I turned my attention to Ragfinn. “Are most of your men like Tirvald?”

  “No.” Ragfinn knifed a piece of meat. “He’s alone in his . . . proclivities. But few of the men are as progressive as you’re asking us to be. We will have an uphill battle.”

  “I know.” I picked at a piece of bread. “But the payoff will be huge—you have to trust me.”

  “I do,” Ragfinn said.

  I had no doubt that he did.

  But I still had to wonder . . . with Tirvald around, would Clan Firense unite under the Valkyris banner? Or would our new world result in casualties before it even had a chance to begin?

  Erik’s confrontation with Tirvald went as w
ell as could be expected. After making sure Borghild was safe, Erik had gone back to have words with her husband. Tirvald challenged Erik to a fight, a demand at which Erik merely laughed. He told Tirvald to take some time to cool his temper, and when Tirvald charged him, Erik dropped the man with one well-aimed punch. He informed Tirvald that his behavior would no longer be tolerated, and if he couldn’t get onboard with the new rules, he could leave.

  By morning, Clan Firense was down a member.

  Erik and I spent the better part of the day going over our action plan with Ragfinn and the three remaining members of his council. Since there was an opening, I suggested they implement the new procedures immediately by selecting one of their most strong-minded women to fill the job. They shifted uncomfortably but rose to the occasion, selecting a mother-of-four named Raven to join them. Raven’s family beamed proudly as she placed her hand to her heart and swore to serve the greater good of Clan Firense while upholding the virtues of the new regime. Then she settled in alongside her fellow council members while Erik and I ran through the changes needed to align the tribe’s values with Valkyris’. When everyone was onboard, we moved on to the mechanics of defense—both practical and magical. And finally, we met with the tribe as a whole and brought them in on what was transpiring. We stuck to logic and figures, knowing emotions would be high. A few bristled at our presentation, but most were supportive—thank God.

  We were on our way.

  We stayed on at the fishing village for two more days, making sure everyone knew their roles and how to play them. We promised to send warriors to train their members in self-defense, and ships to transport them to Valkyris should we need to call them into battle. Before we left, we gave Ragfinn the same älva-dusted envelope and protection ball we’d given Clan Fiksir just days before. He knew how to cloak his people and reach out for help should the need arise.

  God willing, it never did.

  By the time we returned to Valkyris, we were exhausted but happy. Our tribe had expanded by about fifty members, and not only would they stand with us when Bjorn attacked again, we’d improved the quality of life for the eighteen females under Ragfinn’s leadership. It was a drop in the bucket, but it was a drop nonetheless.

  We’d done good.

  When we got home, we met with Katrin, Freia and Halvar to give them an update. Since Axel and Ingrid weren’t due back for another few days, Erik and I decided to visit a few more tribes on our list. We stocked up on the älva’s newly replenished bribes, reloaded Deathknell and headed north again. Clan Santi, a reindeer-herding tribe whose territory was east of Clan Fiksir’s, didn’t object to Valkyris’ values, but they refused to get involved in our conflict with Bjorn. Erik and I made a note to reassess our targets with Katrin—it seemed the more remote groups, and in particular the nomadic ones, valued peace above all else. We’d need to refine our pitch before approaching another.

  Clans Rådmus, Moblys, and Svartor, however, were eager to join our ranks. Each had been ravaged by Bjorn and its allies in the preceding months, and were more than ready to ensure they were never taken by surprise again. What had started as a week-long mission quickly turned into two, but it was worth it to recruit upwards of two hundred new members, and to know we’d made an even bigger dent at improving the quality of life in the north.

  We only hoped our friends were faring as well.

  Chapter 14

  “THAT DID NOT GO well.” Ingrid flopped onto Freia’s white sofa with a huff. Erik and I had just returned from our mission, and we were immediately summoned to his parents’ quarters for a briefing. Since Ingrid and Axel had only arrived the night before, the Halvarssons looked forward to an update on all fronts.

  Though, apparently, they weren’t going to get a cheerful one.

  “It went fine.” Axel rolled his eyes. “Gods, you’re dramatic. Two tribes turned us down—due to their remote location and the subsequent unlikelihood of being threatened, no less—and you think it’s Ragnarok.”

  “It feels like the end of the world.” Ingrid huffed. “The girls in that tribe are going to have to live like that for the rest of their lives. The rest of their lives, Axel. Do you have any idea how long that is?”

  “Is it longer than a two-week trip alone with you?”

  Ingrid’s eyes shot green fire. “You were lucky to have me on that trip, Andersson. If I hadn’t been there to intimidate the Helheim out of Clan Kjatro’s chief, there’s no way they would have signed on. So, you’re welcome.”

  “I didn’t say you didn’t do your job,” Axel retorted, “only that you were a highly irritating travel companion.”

  “What I’m hearing,” Freia said smoothly, “is that your combined efforts have successfully brought new members into our fold. Well done, Ingrid. Axel.”

  “Thank you,” Ingrid said shortly.

  Axel shrugged. “Takk.”

  “What are your total numbers?” Halvar reached over to the snack tray and plucked a piece of cheese.

  “Use a plate, dear,” Freia admonished.

  “Right.” Halvar transferred several slices of cheese and bread to a plate before returning his attention to Ingrid. “You visited two tribes initially, then went back out and saw . . .was it six more?”

  “You did?” I laughed. “Erik and I did the same thing. Well, we only hit four on our second leg. So technically, you beat us.”

  “A conversion’s a win, no matter the numbers,” Ingrid said.

  “Seriously?” Axel balked. “When we lost a tribe, I said the exact same thing. And you told me I could stick my head up my—”

  “Axel,” I blurted. Things with these two had really gone south over the past two weeks.

  “Which clan is going to be of the greatest use to us?” Freia asked calmly. “We should get a team out to train them straight away.”

  “Clan Kjatro,” Ingrid said. “They have the strongest will, and the strongest warriors. They’ll be a force against Bjorn’s attack, for sure.”

  “She asked me,” Axel retorted.

  Ingrid raised her brow. “And who would you suggest?”

  “Clan Kjatro,” Axel muttered. “Same reasons.”

  “Well then,” Freia pressed her palms together. She seemed to be suppressing a smile.

  Same, Chieftess.

  “Erik,” Freia said. “See to it that a regimen is sent to Kjatro within the week. I’ll let you and Axel work out the distribution of trainers beyond that. We don’t want too many of our warriors off-island—our sources have reported Bjorn may be moving on us sooner than later.”

  “That’s not good,” I whispered.

  Axel and Ingrid exchanged a look—one that was surprisingly void of surprise.

  Uh-oh.

  “We heard things too . . . from multiple sources,” Ingrid said cautiously.

  “Ja?” Halvar put down his plate.

  Ingrid glanced back at Axel. When she nodded, he leaned forward. “Two of the tribes we visited had heard that a dragon slaughtered a nearby village.”

  My head snapped up. “We heard the same thing. It made no sense.”

  “Well, it’s about to,” Axel said. “Word around the fjord is that Clan Bjorn has got themselves a dragon.”

  Erik shook his head. “We discussed that rumor weeks ago, and it seems highly improbable. The gods wouldn’t gift two clans with dragons.”

  “And certainly not that clan,” I muttered.

  “Agreed.” Ingrid raised her palms. “But then we started asking around. And there’s been some scary stuff happening in the villages Bjorn visits.”

  My pulse quickened. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean . . .” Ingrid bit down on her bottom lip and my imagination shifted into overdrive. If things were even worse than opposing dragons and chiefs devoid of moral compasses, then I needed to know. Now.

  “Tell us,” I blurted. “You mean what?”

  “I mean that after Bjorn leaves a village, if its members refuse to join them then this kind of . . . c
loud settles over the area.”

  “Like the smoke lingering over a freshly burned settlement?” Erik said drily.

  “That,” Ingrid admitted. “But then this other smoke comes in. It has a sickly sweet smell, and leaves everything in its wake feeling . . .”

  What? Feeling what?

  “Hopeless,” Axel chimed in. “The reports say that villagers are left with such a sense of desolation that they’re driven to complete despair. And when the smoke finally clears, the villagers are either gone or dead.”

  “Explain,” Erik ordered.

  Axel shifted uncomfortably. “The working theory is that the smoke drives people insane.”

  “Or into a state of extreme depression,” Ingrid added. “Eventually they either act like a berserker and go running for the hills, or they . . .”

  Ingrid glanced at Axel.

  “Or they kill themselves,” he said softly.

  Holy skit.

  “Do we know where the smoke comes from?” Halvar asked. “Or if there’s any way to stop it?”

  “That’s the thing.” Axel frowned. “The disseminators haven’t catalogued any natural substance that brings on those effects. Which means either we haven’t discovered it yet . . . or someone’s creating it.”

  “Like a magic wielder?” Erik’s eyes narrowed. “Does Bjorn actually have a dark mage?”

  Is that rumor true, too?

  The muscle along Axel’s jawline twitched. “It seems likely.”

  Double skit.

  “So, the people we’re trying to stop have a dark mage and a dragon? And they’re killing and/or incapacitating anyone who might actually side with us?” I dropped my head to my hands. “What do we do now?”

  “The same thing we’ve been doing,” Freia said gently. “We go out and explain ourselves to clans we believe we can reach. We try to bring as many members into our fold as possible. We offer them our protection, and do our utmost to honor that promise when the time comes. And we pray, with all that we are, that the light of Valkyris is enough to overpower the darkness of Bjorn.”