by S. T. Bende
“Wh-wh-what do you m-mean?”
I tightened my grip on my crossbow and snuck a look at Axel. His eyes bore a mixture of tension and heartache.
“I should have done what I promised my parents I’d do.” Raynor’s eyes didn’t leave Brigga’s. “I should have looked out for you and your sister.”
“You sh-should have!”
“I knew you were vulnerable. I knew you needed protecting.” Raynor shook his head. “But I’d just lost my sister, and I couldn’t get beyond my own pain. I couldn’t be there for you—even though I knew how much you needed someone. Anyone. I was selfish, and I’m sorry.”
I reached out to grasp Axel’s arm. What the hell was happening?
“If I could go back, I’d do it differently. I never meant for this to happen.” Raynor released his hold on Brigga’s chin. “I know what it is to lose a sister. I’d never wish this upon anyone. I am so sorry, Brigga.”
Tears streamed from Brigga’s eyes. As she wept over her sister’s body, she leaned into Raynor’s chest and whispered the words I’d never have expected to come from my onetime nemesis. “I forgive you.”
Raynor’s shoulders folded inward, as if he’d been punched in the gut. He folded himself around Brigga and held tight while the girl gave in to her grief. She cried herself out while Raynor pressed his palms to her back, his own tears streaming silently down his cheeks.
I tugged on Axel’s sleeve, and he leaned close enough that I could whisper in his ear. “We need to help the front lines.”
“Right.” Axel pushed himself slowly to his feet. “Brigga, my sympathy for your loss. When we’re back in Valkyris, if there’s anything you need don’t hesitate to ask.”
Brigga nodded, but didn’t raise her head from Raynor’s chest.
“Same goes for me, Brigga.” I reached down to place my hand on her shoulder. “Raynor, we’re heading to the front lines. I don’t know where Erik is, but I’m sure he could use the help.”
“We’ll come shortly.” Raynor looked between Axel and me. “Tell my brother I’ll fight at his side.”
It was more than I could have hoped.
“Onward, then.” Axel jogged toward Deathknell, and I followed. It only took a minute to regroup, weapon up, and fly to the front lines.
“My God,” I whispered.
I reached back to grasp Axel’s hand as we soared toward the colony. Valkyris East was in flames, the entire settlement a wall of crimson and orange. Fallen troops lay in piles on the ground, their remains charred so it was it impossible to tell whether they were our warriors or Bjorn’s. Dragons darted in and out of the carnage, dropping supplies to Valkyris survivors and flaming Bjorn’s troops on departure. Things were bad—really, truly bad.
And I had no idea if we’d be able to turn them around.
Chapter 20
THE BATTLE RAGED ON. Axel commandeered a dragon from a fallen rider, and the two of us worked with the rest of our team to drive Bjorn’s troops back. We’d managed to create a buffer around what was left of Valkyris East, and were preparing to make another pass on Bjorn’s front line when a lone figure stepped out from the row of linked shields. Clan Bjorn’s heir had arrived. And he was ready to begin negotiations.
“Where is your chief?” Lars’ words pierced the crackling flames. A sword hung at his waist, and he thumped his axe against his shield as shouted, “Where. Is. Your. Chief?”
I steered Deathknell closer to the ground. We’d be poised to attack if things went south.
“I stand for my chief.” Erik stepped over the smoldering remains of what had once been Valkyris East’s healing unit. Halvar marched after him, several warriors at his side. But Erik held up one hand, waving them back. Halvar gripped the hilt of his sword, no doubt prepared to rush to Erik’s aid the moment he was summoned. While he watched, Erik’s long legs made clipped strides across the smoking earth. He stopped fifty feet from Lars with his sword drawn and his head high.
“You are prepared to cede to Valkyris’ victory?”
Lars laughed, a cold bark that bore no hint of merriment. He dropped his axe to his side, and scanned the remains of our mainland colony with such intense hatred, the hairs at the back of my neck lifted. I loaded my crossbow and set Lars in my sights. If he so much as blinked at Erik, I would strike him down before he ever saw me coming. Nobody messed with my Viking.
“I cede to nobody,” Lars called. “As chief of Clan Bjorn, I call for your immediate surrender. Turn yourselves over, or we will slaughter what’s left of your army.”
A light breeze blew Erik’s hair over his shoulders. “What happened to Chief Olav?”
“One of your men killed my father,” Lars spat. “Disguised himself as one of ours, and struck him down from within our own ranks.”
What? When?
I looked across the sky to where Axel hovered on his borrowed dragon. He looked every bit as surprised as I was. We hadn’t planned to take Olav out—it must have been a rogue act, committed by one of our reinforcements. Whoever had done it deserved the highest honors.
Even if it meant Lars was the new crazy-in-chief.
“My sympathies,” Erik offered. “Your father was a worthy adversary.”
“You’ll pay for his death,” Lars yelled. “Surrender now, and I’ll let your women live.”
“As thralls? I don’t think so.” Erik pulled his elbow back. Behind him, Halvar and the warriors stood with their swords drawn.
I readied my crossbow to shoot.
One wrong move . . .
“Your refusal secures the deaths of your clansmen.” Lars raised his axe. “Attack!”
Clan Bjorn’s warriors charged forward, their linked shields protecting them from the siege of skyborne arrows. Valkyris’ riders swooped down, simultaneously firing arrows and flaming Bjorn’s front lines. Axel fell back to protect our chief, but I stayed with Erik. He kept his sword at the ready as Lars closed the distance between them, axe raised and eyes blazing. I fired off a shot, my first arrow landing in the back of Lars’ calf. Blood seeped through his pants leg and he stumbled, picking himself up while I reloaded my bow. By the time I’d lined up my next shot, he’d nearly reached Erik. The two men met, their weapons connecting in a deafening clash. Chaos erupted all around them. Valkyris’ and Bjorn’s warriors collided in a rage-filled vortex, but I kept my focus locked on the battle in the center of the field. Erik deflected Lars’ blows, his broad shoulders easily overpowering each swing of Lars’ axe. But Lars was fiercely determined, and his strokes grew stronger, and more frantic. One wrong block and Erik would be down a limb . . . or worse. But the men were too close, their bodies locked in a life-or-death battle that made it impossible for me to get a clear shot. If I fired and struck Erik by mistake . . .
I couldn’t let myself think about it. I could only line up my shot . . . and wait.
As if he’d read my mind, Erik lashed out at Lars. He pushed the new chief’s axe to the side, and knocked him to the ground with a well-aimed front kick. Lars landed in the dirt, and Erik gripped his sword in both hands before raising his arms above his head.
My world view shifted into slow motion. While Erik prepared to deliver the killing blow, Lars wrenched his body to the side. As he moved, he raised his axe with one hand. From the looks of things, it wouldn’t be a strong strike—just enough to knock Erik off balance, possibly draw some blood. But Lars’ axe was tracking to strike Erik in the kneecap—it would hurt him enough to knock him down . . . and possibly give Lars the time he needed to gain the upper hand.
And kill the Viking I loved.
I didn’t think—didn’t weigh the angle of my arrow, or factor in the wind from the inferno on the ground. I acted purely on instinct as I cleared my mind and took my shot.
A half-second later, Lars lay flat on the ground, his axe in the dirt and an arrow between his eyes. A second after that, Erik completed his swing. With a grunt, he pierced Lars through the heart with the end of his broadsword.
It to
ok me another moment to register Lars’ motionless form, and another after that to peel myself back so I sat upright again. The second I was functional, I steered my dragon to the ground and landed beside Erik.
“That’s two you owe me, buddy!” I shouted over the clang of clashing weapons.
“I’m pretty sure I killed him first,” he called back.
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Erik’s eyes shone. “I love you, Saga Skånstad. If we get out of this alive, I will make you my wife.”
My heart tugged. The sight of him standing in the middle of the battlefield, his blond hair wild and his clothes stained with blood, made me realize that I’d been worrying about all the wrong things. It didn’t matter whether we were from the same era; whether we’d been raised with the same values, or world views, or even concept of time. What mattered was that we shared a singular vision of a world filled with love, and honor, and hope. Where everyone had the opportunity to live to their fullest potential, regardless of who they were or where—or when—they’d been born. What mattered was that we loved each other more than anything else in the entire world. And we wanted—no, we needed—to be together. We were both stronger when we were a team.
Time was too precious to not marry the Viking.
With my mind finally clear, I met Erik’s gaze. “When we get out of this alive, you’d better marry me, Halvarsson.”
His eyes lit up, joy filling his blood-caked face. He looked like he wanted to sweep me into his arms and whisk me off to the chapel right then, and I very much wanted the exact same thing.
Clash!
I spun toward the noise. With a breath, I tightened my grip on Deathknell’s saddle, and switched back into battle mode.
“Where do you need me?” I asked.
“The left flank was the weakest,” he said. “Cover them while I stay with the front.”
“Be careful,” I warned. “They’re slowing, but they aren’t giving up.”
“Neither am I.” Erik turned and raced back to his men. I followed his order, flying straight for Valkyris East before shifting to cover the left. Another rider was already there, and together we flamed the approaching army while our ground troops pushed them back.
The fight went on for another half hour, but without their leaders, Clan Bjorn was disjointed and disheveled. After what felt like an eternity, we finally overtook their army. Many of their allies surrendered, but the core members of Clan Bjorn were steadfast—they refused Erik’s offer of assimilation, and were ultimately done away with.
My Vikings didn’t leave any survivors.
It was dark by the time Erik declared Valkyris’ victory. With the threat neutralized, Halvar deemed it safe enough to bring in the älva handlers. Several riders were dispatched to Valkyris, returning shortly with our makeshift firemen. The handlers activated their magical water walls, extinguishing the flames so the healers could comb through the wreckage. Survivors were given medical attention, while those who weren’t so fortunate were moved to the shore. Custom dictated that we hold a proper funeral for the fallen before returning home, and I marveled at the sheer number of bodies being hauled toward the sea. Would there be enough ships to burn them all?
Freia had flown in along with the älva handlers, and after making one final sweep of the forest, I flew down to the healing station where the Halvarssons were tending to the injured. Erik, Freia, and Halvar strode between rows of wounded warriors, some of whom received stitches, while others had bones set, and still more undertook magical remedies. My chiefs and their heir clasped hands, patted shoulders, and offered what support they could while their warriors gritted their teeth and endured their treatments. When Freia stepped away, I slipped off Deathknell’s back and jogged to her side. Her eyes lit up when she saw me, and she held out her arms in greeting.
“Saga. Thank the gods you are uninjured.”
“Not completely.” I pulled up what was left of my sleeve, revealing the blisters along my arm. In the heat of the battle, it had been easy enough to push the pain from my mind. But now that I had a chance to breathe, and actually take in the mess that was my skin . . .
“Oh, my dear. Come. We’ll get you fixed up.” Freia gently wrapped one arm around my shoulder and guided me to an available healer. “Saga needs a balm for her arm.”
The healer tutted as she placed cool hands around my elbow and wrist. “I’ll bet this hurts,” she said sympathetically.
“It didn’t. But now it does. A lot.” I winced as she set my arm atop a makeshift table.
“The good news is, it looks more damaged than it actually is.” The healer uncorked a bottle and poured a shimmering serum onto her hands. “The bad news is, this is going to make it worse.”
Skit.
“And then it will make it better,” Freia added. She placed her hand atop my shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “You were brave, Saga. Erik told me what you did for him. For us.”
“Erik probably exaggerated.” I cringed as the healer placed her hands atop my arm and rubbed lightly. “The ground troops endured more than I did.”
“You endured plenty. And you saved my son’s life. For that, I can never repay you.” Freia kept her hand on my shoulder as I squirmed.
“Ow!” I bit down on my bottom lip, remembering everyone who’d had it worse.
“It’s almost over,” the healer offered.
“Saga, look at me.” Freia leaned closer so our eyes locked. I knew she was trying to distract me from the pain. And I appreciated it very much.
“Yes?” I groaned as the healer administered a second dose of the balm.
“What you did today—nobody could have asked more of you. You came to us unseasoned, uninitiated in what had to be a very peculiar world for you.” Her eyes darted to the healer, and I had no doubt she was choosing her words carefully. “But you have more than proven yourself to be a valued member of our clan. You’ve embraced the Valkyris virtues, fought valiantly for our people, and more than that, proven yourself to be a worthy partner for my son. You challenge him in all the right ways, and make him the very best version of himself. When I prayed for a leader to come to our tribe . . .” Freia shook her head. “. . . you are so very much more than I ever could have hoped for. I thank the gods for you, Saga Skånstad.”
Moisture pricked at the back of my eyes, and I blinked rapidly. “Thank you,” I whispered. “For trusting me. And for making me a part of your family.”
Freia reached up to swipe a finger beneath her eyelid. She leaned in as if to hug me, but the healer raised her hand. “I wouldn’t do that. The last part is the worst.”
“What do you me—arugh!” I cried out as fireballs erupted along my arm. Flame-like ripples popped along my skin, sending waves of agony coursing straight through me. “What the hell is happening?”
“Give it another ten seconds,” the healer soothed.
“Are you out of your bloody mind?” I hissed. “Make it stop!”
“Five more seconds,” she said calmly. “Two. One.”
The pain lifted as she spoke the final word. I glanced at my arm just in time to see what looked like tiny orange balls rising from my skin and dissipating into the air. A cool, blue mist settled in their place, cloaking my arm in a soothing, pain-free sleeve.
“You’re set.” The healer smiled. “If you have any complications, return to us immediately—either here, or back on Valkyris. This is a new remedy for us, but so far it’s performing as expected.”
“Thank you,” I gritted.
The healer nodded, then turned to tend to her next patient. I clutched my arm to my chest and followed Freia through the throng of injured Vikings.
“You were at the castle during the battle, right?” I asked. I hadn’t seen her on the field, but then I hadn’t seen Halvar either, and I knew he’d been in the thick of things with Erik. So much had happened, it was impossible to keep track of everyone.
“I was. Halvar and I feared our shield might be penetrated, and i
t was important for one of us to remain to command defense of the island.”
I grimaced. “But our troops were all here. What would you have done?”
“Some members of the Shieldmaiden Squadron remained behind.” Freia shrugged. “We’d have made do with what we had.”
Freia really was the fiercest woman I’d ever met. Or rather, she was tied with Ingrid for the title.
“Saga!” Erik’s relieved voice pulled my gaze upward. My cheeks stretched in a grin as he raced across the dirt. His eyes fell to the arm I still cradled against my chest, and he grimaced. “You’re injured.”
“I’ve been worse,” I said. “But the burn balm the healers are testing—not so great while it’s working on you.”
“You were burned?” Erik stopped in front of me, and carefully took my hands in his. “It’s this one, then? The one with the . . . what’s the blue thing?”
“I have no idea.” I shrugged. “But it’s not hurting anymore. Thank God.”
“Saga was very brave,” Freia said proudly.
“She always is.” Erik released my hands. My pulse spiked as he slid his palms down my back and pulled me against him. “I’m sorry you were hurt.”
“I’m just glad it’s over. How many did we lose?”
“Too many,” Erik said grimly. “But Valhalla will welcome them. Our warriors died noble deaths.”
“Speaking of, I’m going to arrange for more ships to be brought in.” Freia stepped backward. “I fear we won’t have enough to send them off.”
“Good idea,” Erik said. “Axel’s with Ingrid near what’s left of the church. He was going to head back soon—I’m sure he’ll give you a ride.”
“Wonderful. I’ll see you in a few hours.” Freia raised one hand before hastening across the moonlit field.
“Is Ingrid all right?” I angled my chin up so I could look at Erik.
“She’s been better. Seeing her father was quite a shock. And when she finds out he’s the one who killed Chief Olav . . .”