by Jaid Black
Otar snorted. There was no finer healer in all of New Sweden than Old Myria. There was no finer gossip, either. At ninety and three, she was as feisty as she was wizened.
“I did not find any warriors of Army searching for our stronghold, milord.”
“Excellent.”
“I did, however, retrieve two Outsider wenches.”
“I’ve heard so. How do you know they are not from Army?”
“I know because I know.” An arrogant but true statement. “Ferreting out information and people is what I do, Niko.”
And because he was so good at it, Nikolas accepted that answer at face value. If Otar believed they were not from Army, then they were not.
“Then why did you take them?” Nikolas ground out. ’Twas the first time Otar had ever seen his cousin angered with him. “They will both end up on Toki’s bedamned auction block! I know you will not claim Hunter’s Right and wed either of them.”
Hunter’s Right. ’Twas an old, sacred law that gave unwed warriors the legal claim to a wench they captured, should they desire to marry her. If the warrior was already wed, or didn’t covet a union with the captive in question, she was passed on to the auctioneer and placed up for bid to the highest buyer.
Before Toki had come to power, the bride auction block had been a revered Viking tradition. Under their mutual cousin’s regime, ’twas a place of humiliation and shame. Forced to stand naked before dozens, sometimes hundreds, of jeering men, the wenches were touched, licked, and fondled as future potential husbands bodily inspected them.
Nikolas refused to take a bride whilst Toki was still in power. Likewise, he forbade his rebel followers from stealing any wenches they did not wish to take to wife, lest they be subjugated to the demeaning bride auction.
“I took the women because their picture-taker possesses images of us on it,” Otar replied.
Nikolas stilled. “Did you retrieve it?”
“Nay. We tore apart their dwelling and did not find it. ’Tis on one of their persons and will be retrieved anon.”
Lord Ericsson was appeased. “Excellent. I guess you had no choice, then. ’Tis unfortunate they must go to the block, but you did what was right for our people and our way of life.”
“Neither wench shall go to the block,” Otar told him. “I made a vow to you that I would never subject a female to that. Outsider or not, and I will honor that vow.”
“What do you mean? Iiro and Luukas will take them as wives?” Nikolas frowned. “Luukas is already wed.”
“Iiro will take one of them to wife.”
“And the other?”
“I will take her.”
Nikolas looked too stunned to speak, and with reason. Once Otar made up his mind on a subject, he never changed it. But then he’d made the decision not to marry until the Revolution was won before he’d found Madalyn.
His cousin blew out a breath. “I can hardly wait to meet the wench. She must be extraordinary.”
“Aye, she is.”
Otar kept her identity to himself. If he told Nikolas just who Madalyn was, he would think he’d gone daft. Later, when his new bride was with him, he would introduce them. Once Lord Ericsson got a look at her face, no explanation would be necessary.
Nikolas patted him on the back. “Good work, Otar.” He sighed. “I must go. I’ve my own captive to fret over.”
“So I’ve heard.” Otar’s eyes held a sly gleam. “The entire colony has heard.”
Nikolas grunted.
“I was told your captive will go on the auction block this eve, in about an hour.”
“I had no choice but to capture her,” Nikolas growled, his voice defensive. “She found the Underground.”
Otar searched his expression. “You will not claim Hunter’s Right?”
“Nay.” His face looked a little disappointed, surprising Otar. ’Twas obvious he’d grown to care for the wench. “I have my reasons.”
“I’m certain you do,” Otar murmured.
Nikolas frowned. “Concern yourself with your own wench troubles. Be gone.”
Otar grinned. “Aye, milord.”
FROM INSIDE THE SMALL BEDROOM, Madalyn heard the sound of heavy boots pounding against the dirt-packed floor. Someone was coming. Her heart raced, wondering what would be done with her and Drake.
“Wake up!” she fervently whispered to her sister. “I hear footsteps!”
Drake jarred awake, then jolted upright on the bed. Madalyn quickly took a seat next to her, wanting to appear as nonchalant as possible when the door was opened.
She recalled chapter 10, verse 1 of the CACW manual: Never show your fear to the enemy. Easier said than done, but she decided that a two-time Oscar-winning actress should be cut out for the job.
When the door came crashing open and Madalyn saw her huge Viking captor enter the room, she changed her mind. Nobody was cut out for an acting job like this one; his larger-than-life presence was too unnerving. Her pulse picked up.
The first thing she noticed was that Otar had bathed and changed clothes. His face was freshly shaved, the hair at his temples newly braided. He was no longer wearing the polar bear furs, and she got her first good look at his musculature. She nibbled on her bottom lip as she inspected him from head to toe.
He wore a sleeveless shirt fashioned from heavy silver chain-mail, and his tan arms bulged with muscles. Silver bangles encrusted with gems snaked his biceps, delineating the power of his arms. The pants he wore resembled raw, black leather that hadn’t been cured to give that glossy appearance. His boots, also black, stopped just above the calves.
Madalyn’s gaze flicked up to his face. His expression, always stoic, hadn’t changed. There was no way to gauge what he was thinking or feeling, which was probably the most intimidating thing about him. Considering his height, musculature, and the fact that he currently wielded all power over her, that was saying a lot.
She hated to admit it, but he really was handsome. Not cute, passable, or just good-looking, but virilely handsome. Had she met him under different circumstances, she would have wanted him.
Madalyn blinked, angry that she’d even noticed what he looked like.
He was an anomaly, she consoled herself. Bad men should look the part. They weren’t supposed to be remotely charismatic and attractive, let alone resemble an avenging god.
“Have you eaten?” Otar asked.
“Yes. It was good,” she said uncomfortably. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “Then let me come straight to the point.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“I suppose you would like an explanation of where you are, why you’ve been brought here, and what will become of you.”
“Don’t forget about me. I’d like some answers, too,” Drake said.
Otar frowned at the interruption. “’Tis no longer my place to instruct you, wench,” he said cryptically. “Iiro will be here anon to collect you.”
Drake stilled. “Collect me?”
“What are you saying?” Madalyn breathed out.
Oh no! They were going to be separated? Was this it, then? Sick with the knowledge that she might never see her sister again, Madalyn’s eyes began to well up with tears. She quickly blinked the tears at bay, refusing to show him how scared she was.
Her back went ramrod-straight. “What’s going to happen to Drake?”
“She will be fine, Madalyn,” Otar said softly. “You’ve my word.”
She sensed that his word meant a great deal to him. Still, it wasn’t very much comfort.
“We don’t have the damn camera!” Madalyn blurted out. “I’m not lying!”
“Maddie,” Drake bit out warningly.
“Well, we don’t! There’s no point in separating us if you think you’ll retrieve it with the old divide-and-conquer method.” She threw her hands up. “We really do not have it.”
Otar studied her through hooded eyes. “Come,” he finally said to Madalyn, extending his hand. “’Tis time for you to l
eave with me.”
Fear and nerves sent adrenaline rushing through her. Her stomach churned, nausea overwhelming her. Her gaze flashed to Drake, who looked as though she might cry.
“Don’t separate us,” Madalyn pleaded, ignoring the invitation to take his hand. “Anything but that!”
His expression never wavered, though something in his eyes seemed to soften. “’Tis how it must be, Madalyn.” Otar extended his hand once more. “Come with me of your own volition or I will carry you from this bedchamber.”
Drake’s hand flew up to cover her mouth. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing.
“Will I see her again?” Madalyn asked Otar.
“Aye. ’Twill be a while, but you will be permitted to see her again.”
Drake’s eyes flew open. Madalyn’s gaze flicked back and forth between her sister and her captor. When she opened her mouth to speak, Drake held up a palm.
“I’ll be fine,” Drake said. “Go on. I’ll see you soon.”
Madalyn hesitated, uncertain what to do. She wanted to stay with her sister but realized Otar would remain true to his word. If she didn’t leave the room with him willingly, then she’d leave it unwillingly. Either way, she would be forced to go.
She embraced her sister. “Are you sure, sweetheart?” Madalyn whispered.
“Go. Keep him busy,” Drake said low so Otar couldn’t hear. “I’ve got plans.”
Madalyn’s heart skipped a beat. She hugged her little sister one last time, praying that none of her plans got her killed. “I love you, Drake.”
“I love you, too. Stay strong.”
Madalyn straightened her posture and, taking a deep breath, walked toward the door. Refusing to look at Otar, she glanced back at Drake a final time, her heart in her eyes, and exited the room.
Chapter
Eleven
Madalyn quietly followed Otar’s lead as he steered her down a long, earthen corridor. She had no idea where he was taking her, but decided against asking. She’d find out soon enough.
She glanced up, taking note of small windows that had been carved into the tall ceilings. The circles were far too tiny to squeeze a body through, but they probably permitted the sun to breach this belowground world during daylight hours.
Otar led Madalyn to an iron elevator. Black and sturdy, it resembled the ones often used at skyscraper construction sites.
“Come,” Otar said as they neared it. “I’ve something to show you.”
Madalyn stepped into the elevator. After closing its door, he pushed down a lever and held it in place as the cage soared up several stories. Walking to the back of it, she stared at similar contraptions zinging up and down all over the colony. The underground civilization possessed a huge, open atrium in its middle, each story showcasing something new.
“Most of the levels are filled with dwellings and shopping stalls. Some of the levels contain naught but workers. The uppermost level, for example, is the grindstone. ’Tis where I labor, pounding raw metals into usable materials.”
Madalyn wasn’t certain if she was supposed to respond. “I see.”
Otar pulled the lever up and the elevator came to a jarring stop. “Come,” he instructed. “This level has a good view.”
She warily followed, wondering what she was about to see. He led her toward a sturdy wall that had been fashioned from dark brown bricks. Once there, he motioned toward it.
“You can see much of the colony from here,” he announced. “Come and see it.”
Curious, she did just that. Peering over the ledge, her gaze flicked down. “My God,” she said quietly.
His world was much bigger than she’d originally thought. Glancing down the atrium, she couldn’t even see the lower floors. The levels went on and on, hundreds of them, maybe more. They were up so high that the lower you looked, the more the atrium seemed to narrow, resembling a bottomless pit.
Dizzy, she backed up, feeling disoriented. This was unreal. How could such a vast place exist with nobody above the ground any the wiser?
Because they kill anyone who finds it.
She swallowed hard. Suddenly his obsession with the camera made sense. Otar wouldn’t relent until Drake’s digital was destroyed. He couldn’t. Too much was at stake, not just for him, but for everyone who lived down here.
“This colony is called Lokitown, the capital seat of New Sweden. There are many more such colonies, some of them built like this one, some of them not.”
There were more? All of them underneath the ground? Unbelievable.
“The Viking world consists of New Sweden, New Norway, and New Daneland. Our ancestors abandoned the Old World above the ground and carved out this new one mayhap as far back as two thousand years ago. Leastways, our written records only go back for one thousand years, so many believe ’tis but that old.”
Madalyn blinked. She looked over at Otar. “Why?” She shook her head. “I don’t understand why you don’t live up there with everyone else.”
“We do not care for your ways. Nor will we follow unholy laws. The Vikings listen to none but the gods in Valhalla,” he said proudly. “We thrive because we have remained true to the decrees of the gods.”
Whether polytheistic or monotheistic, a religious zealot was a religious zealot. She knew there would be no talking him out of his beliefs, so there was no point in arguing them. “I see,” she said simply.
His dark eyes searched hers. “One day you will believe,” he murmured.
She doubted that but said nothing.
He continued his history lesson. Our ancestors took to living belowground after the prophets warned them of what would happen aboveground.”
“And that is?”
“Men tampering with what only the gods have the right to decide. If the prophecies are to be believed, we will see this transpire in our lifetime.”
Her forehead wrinkled. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
“A day will come,” he said softly, “when the wenches who live aboveground will die out in numbers. Entire lineages will become extinct. Only below the ground are we safe, for down here we remain true to the gods.”
Madalyn frowned. “Our men will not kill us off. That is totally preposterous!”
“Maybe not directly. The gods did not warn the prophets of how the phenomenon would occur, only that it would.”
She couldn’t believe that an entire race of people existed belowground because of what long-dead prophets had said. Then again, there were millions of people above the ground who lived out their lives in accordance with their religious beliefs.
A chill slowly worked down her spine. In that moment, all hope of escape dashed. Nobody from her world had ever found this place, because nobody from this world ever let escape happen.
“I want to go home,” she said calmly. She glanced away and her breath caught in the back of her throat. “I don’t like it here and I never will. It’s too different from my world.”
“Madalyn…”
She stared down the atrium but saw nothing. Her mind was in turmoil, her heart aching. “You will never let me leave here,” she whispered. “Will you?”
Silence.
“Tell me the truth.”
Otar sighed. “Nay. You cannot leave, Madalyn, and I think you already know that.”
Her teeth sank into her bottom lip.
“Lokitown is different from what you are accustomed to, yet I am certain you will thrive here. ’Twill take time to settle into the way of things, but you will.”
Madalyn closed her eyes against the damning words. “What will become of me here?” Her eyes flicked open and sought his out. “I’m afraid to ask,” she said shakily, “but I need to know.”
His face was compassionate but unyielding. “You will become my bride this eve.”
Her heartbeat went into overdrive. Adrenaline coursed through her blood so quickly that nausea engulfed her.
“I won’t marry you,” she said nervously. “I don’t eve
n know you.”
“We’ve the rest of our lives for that.”
Madalyn’s hand flew up to her mouth. She balled it into a fist and sank her teeth into it. Angry and scared, she was also completely powerless. Unbidden, a single tear spilled down her cheek.
“I’m not so bad as that, little one,” he murmured as he brushed away the rogue tear. “In time, you will grow to love me.”
She pushed his hand away. “I will never love you. Never! And I refuse to marry you! Are you insane? Do you honestly believe I would agree to marry a man who kidnapped me?”
“In my world, your agreement is not necessary.”
Her green eyes widened.
There was a hardness in his eyes. “You gave me no choice but to capture you, wench. Did you not take those pictures of me and my men, I would have let you go.”
“We weren’t taking pictures of you! We were taking them of the whales.”
“And we are in them.”
That was true and she couldn’t deny it. “And if I got you the camera?” Madalyn asked, hope soaring. Maybe she still had a shot at freedom if she handed the wretched thing over to him.
“You still would not be able to leave. ’Tis the law here whether you have a care for it or not.”
Her heart sank yet again.
“’Tis sorry I am,” Otar murmured. “Leaving is out of the question. Did I attempt to let you go aboveground, I would be branded a heretic and my entire family killed.”
“Good grief.” She blinked, curious about the rest of what he’d said. “You already have a family?” She frowned. “Do you have other wives?”
He had the nerve to look amused. “Nay. The only family I possess is a mother and twin sister. My sire has been dead to us for ten years and five now.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
Madalyn ran a hand through her long curly hair and sighed. She didn’t know what to do. The only thing she did know was that she didn’t want to be married to someone by force. All of her life, she had waited for Mr. Right. Unlike most actresses of her acquaintance, she had never taken the matrimonial plunge. Not one for divorce, she had preferred to stay single until she knew she’d found the right one. There had been occasional whispers in the tabloids that she was a lesbian, because of her longtime single status, but she hadn’t cared what people thought.