Viking

by Fabio

  "Saw what?"

  'On the day you died, I secretly watched your warriors launch you to Valhalla; then I later discovered you had returned from the dead."

  "I thought you knew I had returned from Valhalla!" he exclaimed with a grin. "So you spied on me even then?"

  She dodged his question with one of her own. "And you lived your other life before you returned to us?"

  He nodded.

  "But how could you have lived another life so quickly?"

  He considered for a moment. "There's much I can't explain, Reyna. I just know it happened."

  "Where did you go after Valhalla?" she pressed.

  Again Viktor hesitated, wondering how much she could accept and understand—and how much of his former life he could afford to trust her with. "I went to the world of the future/' he said at last.

  "The future!" she gasped. "I have never heard of this world! Is it a tenth world, then?"

  "What do you mean, tenth world?"

  "Vikings believe in nine worlds," Reyna explained. "There is Midgard, the earth, where we are now. There is Jotunheim, where the trolls and giants live, and Vana Heim, the realm of the Vanirgods, after which our island is named. There is also Hel, the world of the dead, and Valhalla, the hall receiving the souls of slain warriors, where you have journeyed—as well as several other worlds." She grinned at him winsomely. "Now it seems there is also a Futuregard."

  "Futuregard," he repeated. "Yes, I like the sound of that."

  "Tell me of this Futuregard. Is it there you Learned to talk so strangely?"

  "Yes. But I'm not sure ..." He flashed her a contrite smile. "Reyna, the world where I lived my other life could prove difficult for you to understand."

  A scowl wrinkled her brow. "Think you I am witless?"

  "No, of course not. It's just—"

  "Tell me of this Futuregard. I will understand."

  Observing her determined visage, Viktor believed she would. He drew a deep breath and began. "The world where I lived my other life is very advanced, with buildings made of concrete and steel—"

  "What means 'concrete'? What means 'steel'?" she interrupted eagerly.

  He wagged a finger at her. "Ah, but I thought you said you were going to understand,"

  She glowered.

  He held up a hand. "Very well. I'll attempt to explain."

  Proceeding slowly and patiently, Viktor tried his best to make Reyna understand how steel was forged and concrete mixed. She seemed to grasp the concepts best when he compared steel with the Viking custom of pattern-welding and concrete with the stone and mortar Vikings used for constructing some of their buildings.

  After listening raptly, she insisted, "Tell me more!"

  Viktor chuckled. "The future is a time of marvelous inventions, with machines that do everything from thinking to cleaning garments to flying through the air."

  Reyna appeared amazed. "You are saying a device can fly like a bird? "

  "Yes, and take people up into the air with it."

  Reyna fell silent, scowling fiercely while conjuring an image of a giant bird with several people clutched in its talons. "Verily, it sounds dangerous to fly through the air in this remarkable manner."

  "It can be." A sudden, painful memory brought a frown to his face.

  Reyna touched his arm. "You look sad, my husband."

  He nodded. "That is how my family died. They were flying in a plane—"

  "What means 'plane'?" she demanded. Before he could explain, she snapped her fingers and rushed on. "You are saying the bird dropped them?"

  Viktor would have smiled at her unschooled description had his memories not been so hurtful. "Yes, in a manner of speaking, the bird dropped them. The plane crashed into the mountains with my mother, father, and sister on board."

  "And they all died?" she asked, crestfallen.

  "Yes, they all died." He clutched her hand. "That is why I told you last night that I have known loss just as you have, darling."

  Suddenly Reyna appeared wary, avoiding Viktor's eye, as if his sharing had probed too close to her own pain. "That was long ago," she muttered, "when I was but three summers old. But still it smarts."

  "I know it does, darling."

  "When was your loss in Futuregard? "

  His smile was ironic. "Try a thousand years from now.

  "Verily?" she cried,

  "Verily."

  "Nay!" she gasped but still appeared wholly fascinated.

  "Yea," he said with a grin.

  She clapped her hands like a delighted child. Tell me more."

  At Reyna's insistence, Viktor complied- He outlined in broad terms the progress of mankind over the centuries, telling her of the development of machines, new technologies, new intellectual awareness, and the medical discoveries that had eliminated many diseases. She listened intently but interrupted often, demanding that he define every outlandish term he used. What most amazed Viktor was how readily his wife seemed to accept his bizarre stories. Then he reminded himself that they were living in the Viking age, when people were highly superstitious, believing in Jotuns and trolls and elves and fairies, in rainbow bridges and monsters rising from the sea. Surely the tales he spun seemed no more incredible to Reyna than the "Viking myths and legends she had heard all her life.

  On and on they talked. Viktor deliberately kept his discussion upbeat, not telling Reyna of mankind's weapons of mass destruction, of the wars of the future, and the possibility of nuclear obliteration. She continued alternately to listen, wide-eyed, her chin propped in her hands, and to interrupt with impatient questions.

  When at last he paused, she was gazing at him as if seeing him for the first time. Quietly, she asked, "And you loved me in this world, Viktor the Valiant?"

  "Yea."

  "That is what you told me at the bathhouse."

  "Believe me, darling, I haven't forgotten."

  Her expression grew petulant. "But if you loved me in Futuregard, why do I not remember?"

  "Perhaps because you haven't lived that life yet," he suggested gently.

  She scowled, considering his words. "What was I called?"

  "Monica."

  "What manner of woman was this Monica?"

  He grinned. "Very liberated."

  "What means 'liberated'?"

  Viktor had to chuckle, for all of her questions were so endearingly earnest. "You were devoted to your career as a movie actress."

  "What means 'movie'?"

  It took Viktor quite a while to make Reyna understand the concept of a picture, much less moving pictures. They went over, under, around, and through the concept, until at last she seemed to grasp a tenuous perception.

  "So I loved these moving pictures more than you?" she asked.

  "You wanted to be a star."

  She glanced at the heavens. "Which star?"

  He fought a smile. "No, darling, what I meant is you wanted to be recognized for your talents as an actress."

  "And you loved me?" she repeated.

  He stared her straight in the eye. "Very much."

  At the fervency of his words, his gaze, she actually blushed. "Then why did you leave me, Viktor the Valiant?"

  "Because you broke up with me."

  "What means 'break up'?^

  "You ended our relationship. You didn't want to get married and have a child with me."

  She frowned at that, pride tightening her features to a cool facade. "Mayhap I am not so different now."

  Hurt by her withdrawal, Viktor pulled her into his arms. "Reyna, don't shut me out. Not after we've drawn so close."

  He bent to kiss her, but she held him at bay, bracing her hands on his broad chest. "How did you arrive here, my husband?"

  Viktor groaned. He was tiring of her incessant questions, especially since he very badly wanted to make love to her again. "You mean, how did I physically arrive back in time a thousand years?"

  "Yea. I saw you launched, but I did not see you return."

  "My arrival her
e was bizarre," he concluded wryly. "You see, in the future, I was starring in a movie about a Viking named Ivar the Invincible."

  "Nay!" she cried.

  "Yea. And you—that is, Monica—played my faithful bride."

  She giggled, appearing astonished and enthralled.

  "The movie ended with a scene in which Ivar was launched to Valhalla in a burning boat, in the tradition of the Viking king, Viktor the Valiant. Anyway, I was in the flaming ship, I closed my eyes, and the next thing I knew, I was here on Vanaheim and I was Viktor the Valiant."

  Her mouth dropped open. "You returned here in a flaming boat to become your old self again?"

  "Yes." He scowled. "Although I don't remember being Viktor previously."

  "You lost your memory in Valhalla—or in Futuregard? "

  "Perhaps. On the other hand, maybe I never actually was Viktor, but was sent back here in his place/'

  "Why?"

  He stared at her poignantly. To bring our peoples together. To bring us together, Reyna."

  At his impassioned words, a series of emotions crossed her face—uncertainty, awe, vulnerability. Her softening expression provided all the encouragement Viktor needed. He pressed Reyna beneath him and kissed her tenderly. The sharing had made him feel closer to her—especially when she had so trustingly believed him—and he longed to draw them closer still. He kissed her cheek, her mouth, her neck, and when she shivered against him, he knew she was responding.

  Then he felt a wet nose nudging against his cheek—and it definitely wasn't Reyna's. Bemused, he glanced up to see that her little arctic fox had wandered over and was staring at them both curiously. Viktor grinned. The animal was utterly precious^ now in its short brown-and-gray summer coat The creature was barely two feet long, with tiny paws and large gold eyes.

  His wife thrust him away and sat up, her eyes filled with panic. She shooed the fox frantically, waving a hand at it and scolding, "Go away! Go away!'

  The little animal stared at Reyna in confusion, then let out a string of chirplike barks, protesting coyote-style.

  Viktor was amused by his wife's antics and the little fox's tenacity. "Reyna, what are you doing? Why shoo the vixen away? Surely you don't think I devour foxes for dessert?"

  Evidently she did, for the next thing Viktor knew, he was hurled down to the tundra, Reyna's knee was braced on his chest, and she was holding her dagger against his throat.

  "Kill the fox, Viking," she said in a lethal voice, "and I will slit your throat."

  Viktor emitted a low whistle, feeling utterly bewildered by his Valkyrie wife's sudden, violent outburst. "But why would I kill your pet?"

  At his words, Reyna gasped and backed off, her features pale, the dagger slipping through her fingers. She felt shocked at herself as well as ashamed. Already she regretted her savagery toward her husband, which had been sheer reflex. She almost apologized, then bit back the impulse as she remembered what Viktor had just said.

  "You knew!" she cried, aghast

  Viktor sat up, rubbing his neck and feeling intensely relieved mat his throat had been spared. "I watched you one day on the tundra with your fox." He reached out to pet the vixen. "And later with Pelagius."

  "You spied on me!"

  "And you didn't on me?"' he chided, raising an eyebrow. "At least I didn't try to kill you."

  She smiled guiltily. "But you watched."

  He caressed her hip through her dress. "You'll have to forgive me, darling. You fascinated me."

  She appeared to be relenting.

  He sighed. "Reyna, why did you think I would kill your vixen?"

  She struggled for a moment, lowering her gaze and blinking rapidly. "Wolfgard's warriors—if they had known I had a pet, they would have seen it as a sign of weakness. Verily, they would have slain the fox just to spite me."

  At her touching admission, Viktor's heart went out to this proud yet fragile girl. He lifted her chin and stared into her confused, turbulent eyes. "Oh, Reyna, I'm so sorry for all you've had to suffer. It must have been hell for you, being raised in Wolfgard's camp."

  Her gaze darkened with bitterness. " 'Twas worse for my mother. I watched all the heart in her die as Wolfgard broke her spirit."

  He took her hand. "I’ll never do that to you, darling."

  "Will you not?" she challenged. "You seek to make me the object of your will."

  "Not like that,' he replied feelingly. "I didn't marry you to enslave you, Reyna. Don't you understand? You can be free with me—free to be a woman, and free to have pets, or whatever else strikes your fancy. You can trust me."

  Could she? Staring at her husband, Reyna felt terribly torn. She knew Viktor was not like Wolfgard, yet he still sought to dominate her in other, more subtle ways; and, treasonously, she longed to give in ...

  She watched him pet the fox, while the vixen shamelessly rubbed her head against his hand. She suppressed a smile. Could any female withstand her husband's charm?

  Viktor glanced up, noting his wife's intent expression. "What is she called?"

  At last he coaxed a smile out of her. "Freya."

  He ran his hand along the animal's flank. "She is pregnant, you know."

  "She is?" Reyna leaned forward, stroked the vixen, then grinned. "You are right. Freya has a mate—I sometimes spy them together, up in the hills. But he never ventures down with her when she comes to see me."

  "From the size of her, I would say she will become a mother very soon." He glanced proudly at Reyna. "You are very protective of her. You will make a good mother, too."

  Reyna's eyes flashed with resentment. "Yea—to win your bargain with Wolfgard."

  He offered her a look of entreaty. "Reyna, why do we have to be so caught up in our pride, and in examining our motives?" He leaned toward her, kissing her stubborn chin. "I want you, darling. I want you to have our child."

  She was silent, her hands clenched in her lap.

  He stroked her cheek, "You spoke last night about how you were once a happy little princess. Let us bring that same happiness and peace to all of Vanaheim. Let us have a little prince—or a little princess—and make him—or her—very happy, too."

  At last Reyna regarded Viktor with yearning and anguish. Oh, how this man could move her with his pretty words and beautiful images! How long had it been since she had allowed herself to dream of joy and peace? She had been consumed by hatred and her thirst for revenge for a lifetime. But this gentle man did indeed make her remember die innocent soul of the lost child who had once daydreamed so blissfully in Loire. And that scared her, because it made her vulnerable, because it threatened the ironclad convictions that had driven her. Verily, she did not know how to readjust her thinking as her husband urged her to do. She did not know how to give up her warrior heart, which was all she had to protect herself from a brutal world—and mayhap from Viktor the Valiant himself. Yea, he tempted her mightily—tempted her to surrender to his bidding. But nothing they had shared really changed the fact that their lives and destinies were at cross-purposes.

  Best to take greater care with her emotions—and her heart, Reyna mused with regret. Viktor might promise happiness, but at a price she still found too dear.

  As these sobering realities hit home, her visage hardened, and she watched Viktor's expression of tenderness fade to one of regret.

  " Tis time we start back," she stated tensely. "I fret about Ragar and Harald, left alone with your warriors."

  "And you fret about yourself, lingering alone with me?" he challenged.

  Mayhap," she conceded. She stroked the fox, leaning over to nuzzle her cheek against the animal's soft fur. "Farewell, little vixen. I dislike leaving you alone so near to your birthing."

  'Then bring her along," suggested Viktor.

  She glanced at him, eyes wide. "You would allow that?"

  "Of course."

  "But what of your wolves? Will they not want to eat her?"

  Viktor chuckled and kissed the tip of Reyna's nose. "I'll keep them at bay."
/>
  While I worry about keeping my new husband—and my own emotions—at bay, Reyna added to herself.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Viktor and Reyna rode back to the village slowly, al-lowing the fox, Freya, to trail behind them. Although Reyna was often impelled to make clucking sounds and otherwise coax the vixen along, she felt grateful that the little creature followed them at her bidding—and even more grateful to her husband for offering to take the animal to their home. Freya would soon drop her Utter, a fact that would make her and the pups vulnerable to other predators. How much safer she would be back at the longhouse, having her pups by the warm fire.

  Again Reyna marveled at the kindness and tenderness of her new husband—traits she had never expected in a Viking, qualities that endeared Viktor to her and lowered her defenses. She reminded herself again that she could not afford to forget what her husband truly wanted from her. If she did not take greater care, she would soon be totally tamed, her belly thick with Viktor's seed, and he would thereby use her to gain the victory he craved. Much as she felt herself softening toward her bridegroom, her warrior-woman instincts protested against such a humiliation ...

  As he watched Reyna cajole the fox, Viktor's thoughts were both tender and troubled. He remained flabbergasted by his bride's reaction when she had pinned him to the tundra and pressed her dagger to his throat. What a cruel life she must have endured, and how deep her emotional wounds must go, if she felt she could not even trust him around an innocent fox, and feared he would seize upon any vulnerability she displayed as a sign of weakness. He realized that he still had a long way to go to win Reyna's trust and get her to lower her defenses. He hoped that his offering to take in the fox would be another step in bringing them closer

  When the two entered the foyer of the longhouse with the little fox at their heels, they were at once confronted by the three wolves, who bounded into the entry chamber and snapped and growled at Freya. The little fox yapped in fear and hid behind Reyna's skirts. The wolves, undaunted, let out savage howls and charged.

  Viktor sprang into action, struggling to grab all three of the snarling beasts at the same time. "Stop it, you monsters! Heel, I tell you! Is this any way to treat a guest?"