by Koko Brown
“Did I stutter?”
“No, you didn’t stutter, but he’s a Viking! As I recall, from all the Mighty Thor comic books I’ve read, they don’t give, they take.”
Sidetracked by his almighty ego Loki asked, “This comic book, am I in it? You know I helped Thor regain Mjollnir.”
“I heard you the first time,” she sniffed, causing the red hairs on the back of his neck to stand at attention. With very little effort her thoughts were obvious to Loki: mortal or immortal, men were all the same —vain and self-righteous.
“Yes, we men are all the same,” he gritted out not liking her impudent thoughts, “therefore, you shouldn’t have any trouble regaining the stone. You’re a woman. Use your feminine wiles to take it.”
Reese balled her fists while her mouth worked like a fish out of water, but she said nothing. Instead, she rerolled the map and shoved it inside the travel pack. She then walked over to the gelding, took the reins, and led him outside. Once mounted, she pointed him east toward the Sognefjord.
Chapter Three
It took Reese a day and a half of skirting the coast to reach the mouth of the fjord. The noon day sun beat down on her as she descended the last rise, and stumbled onto Bjarni and his men. Expecting a small group of Conan wannabes, Reese was unprepared for the large Viking contingent hunkered down at the water’s edge. Before she called attention to herself and brought a pack of blood-thirsty berserkers down on her head, she hid behind a copse of boulders.
Over a hundred men strong, Bjarni and his mercenaries looked as if they’d just fought their way out of hell rather than simply returning from sea. And despite their obvious proximity to water, many of them looked as if they hadn’t touched it in weeks.
The slaves were in even worse shape. The small group of Moors were not only filthy, but starved as well. They looked like waifs in their oversized torn tunics. And while Reese remained hidden, awaiting nightfall, she noticed they were forced to bear most of the grunt work from gathering wood for a bonfire and fetching water to tending to the livestock.
Tamping down her anger, Reese busied herself dirtying her cloak and tearing the bottom of her
tunic to wrap around her head in a turban like the slaves toiling below. She would be able to blend in since their skin was darker than hers, but with her long braids it would be much harder to hide the fact she was a woman.
Once the sun slipped into the horizon, Reese hid her travel pack under her cloak and began to pick her way down the embankment, the black gelding in tow. Instead of leaving him behind, Reese decided to use him as an excuse if caught.
Aside from the rocky terrain, the moonless night provided excellent coverage, and made her descent surprisingly easy. With an eye on the enemy, Reese skirted the river bank undetected, and safely infiltrated their base camp. She abandoned the gelding to a makeshift corral, then hustled over to the slaves.
“What are you doing, thrall?”
Reese froze, her eyes lingering with longing on the group of captives huddled less than five
yards away. To her dismay, she realized she’d missed one major detail. All the slaves had been roped together.
Her mind worked on an excuse. She had one on the tip of her tongue when she was suddenly
spun around so roughly she almost fell to her knees. Bent over at the waist, she struggled to regain her footing when the Viking gripped the back of her neck and shoved his nose into her face.
“How. Did. You. Get. Free?”
“Fetching water for the men,” she choked out. His breath smelled like he’d eaten dog shit for
dinner.
Dissatisfied with her answer, he yanked her up and off her feet. Eye to eye, Reese got her first
close-up look of a real life Viking. It wasn’t pretty. Sunburned, his fur vest was stained with food and what looked like blood. His blonde hair sprouted from his head in long, knotted twists and flowed over his shoulders to blend with his equally long beard.
“How do you know our language?”
Reese blinked. Fluent in English, Spanglish and Elvish, courtesy of her rabid adoration of J.R.R. Tolkien, Reese had no idea why she understood his language and spoke it fluently.
Loki.
There couldn’t be any other explanation. He’d supplied her with the proper attire to help her blend in with the other slaves, provided her with adequate transportation and even delivered a moonless night for excellent cover. It made perfect sense he would also break down the barriers of communication.
“M-My parents were slaves to a Northman, a merchant from Hedeby.” Reese remembered Otis
mentioning the famous trade port as a stopover for supplies before embarking on their last adventure. “Unlike them, I was born free.” Reese knew she shouldn’t have embellished her lie by proclaiming her freedom. But in some small way she’d hoped by mentioning it she would be treated differently.
His celadon-colored eyes narrowed, his bushy eyebrows practically covered them. If she
weren’t so nervous, and in such a precarious position where he could easily snap her neck, she would’ve laughed.
“How did you end up on the block?”
Relieved he bought her lie, another bubbled from her lips, “After our employer died his estate passed to his nephew. He destroyed our papers then put us up for sale.”
While he pondered her excuse, her gut twisted into knots.
“I put you with the others.” With seemingly little effort, he walked over to the captives and dropped her in the middle of them. “If I catch you again,” he warned while twining a double-looped rope around her wrists, “I will throw you in the fjord with a stone attached to your feet. Understand?”
“Understood,” she croaked through suddenly parched lips.
Relieved to see him go, Reese settled down for the night. As she stared up at the starless sky, she did what she’d always done ever since she’d been dropped into this living nightmare – Reese prayed she would wake up.
* * * * *
Under different circumstances, Reese might have enjoyed her journey. The past three days had
been punctuated with mile after mile of breathtaking mountain views, an occasional whale sighting, and the freshest air she’d come across in years. But it was hard to enjoy such scenic pleasures, when her arms felt like they were going to be ripped from the sockets and her butt had lost all sensation.
“I need a Bahamavention,” she groaned while she pushed the heavy wooden oar forward for
what seemed like the thousandth time. Never in her natural born life had she worked so hard. Not even when she worked as a housemaid at Stargazer Hotel.
Despite her discomfort, she pulled her weight, over compensating in the hopes that
they’d find her useful in the warlord’s keep. With this in mind, Reese was the first to jump overboard to help pull the ship ashore. She gathered enough kindling for not one, but two camp fires, and even butchered a goat for last night’s meal. A self-described bookworm, and introvert, she was rightly proud of how well she was holding up so far all while keeping her identity a secret. Seemed her idea to roll in the dust attracted only the Viking’s disgust, not their curiosity.
Yet, in spite of her moxie, Reese wanted to weep when they entered an inlet. Several wooden
docks, with fishing boats tied to them, jutted into the strait. Half a dozen long ships with bare masts bobbed offshore. Just beyond the port was a large settlement. In the distance, on a steep hill, a large flock of sheep grazed.
The scene idyllic, and everyone’s excitement palpable, Reese helped run the boats. However, when one of Bjarni’s warriors grouped the slaves together and wound ropes around her wrists, her spirit plummeted.
“You can do this,” she reassured herself as they were led through the village.
Half-expecting filth and squalor, Reese was surprised to find a well-planned community with
roughly cut streets and wooden houses with sod roofs resembling upside down long ships. As they pass
ed, many of the village’s inhabitants came out to greet them. And many of Bjarni’s men broke off from the group and went with their families. By the time they made it to the center of the settlement, many of their numbers had dwindled to almost half.
When they stopped in front of a large hall, Reese’s heart beat a wild tattoo. The keep, like the
other dwellings they’d passed, was also made of upright timbers and a sod roof. But unlike the rest, the solid oak structure could probably fit four of Bjarni’s ships from bow to stern.
The home belonged to the warlord, Reese deduced, as she took in the sheer enormity of the
imposing structure sporting two ten-foot tall doors with twin bear heads carved in the surface.
Bjarni, a dark-haired giant, stepped forward. Reese tensed. “Eirik Sigurdsson!” he bellowed. “Get your lazy arse out here!”
For several moments there wasn’t any response, but then the hall’s doors burst open and out stepped a group of warriors just as fearsome as Bjarni’s motley crew. All standing over six feet, they wore their hair long and streaming over their shoulders or held in check with thick braids. A blond-haired behemoth, wearing a cloak made of silver fox, separated himself from the rest. He descended the stairs and stood in front of Bjarni.
So this is Eirik the Fair! Reese whistled softly under her breath. A more suitable name would be Eirik the Hottie.
In his mid to late twenties, Eirik he wore his hair loose, except for two thick braids which
framed his face. A man’s man, his features bordered on hawkish. But when his expression suddenly softened into a smile of greeting, a girlish giddiness bubbled inside her.
Hands down, he was hottest guy she’d seen since Comic Con. And obviously blessed with a great sense of humor because the grisly Bjarni just doubled over in laughter at something he’d said.
Maybe this mission wouldn’t be so bad after all. She’d rather share the furs with him than Shit Breath. Thinking of the Viking who’d picked her off sneaking into camp, Reese looked around. No less than three feet away, he stood glowering at her. Unlike the dozen or so other times she caught him staring at her, she met his gaze bravely. If he’d caught onto her ruse it was too late. Her golden ticket home was only a few feet away.
Dismissing him, Reese turned back to Eirik.
Holy wet panties, Bat Man! Her body immediately responded to him. Pulse racing, and struck with a strange urge to get closer to him, she felt an odd twinge of envy when he pulled Bjarni into his arms and crushed him in a bear hug.
How it would feel to have those muscular arms enfolding her? Those large hands running over her body? Probably like pure heaven, or at least better than chocolate, she mused. A groan of agony whispered past Reese’s lips. She hadn’t felt this rabid since she ran into Stan Lee in the San Diego airport.
By sheer impulse, she stepped forward when he signaled for Bjarni and his men to follow him into the hall; but was brought up short by the ropes wrapped around her wrist. Reese considered the six slaves attached to her. Considering their condition, she could probably haul them up the steps. She didn’t have it that bad for the Viking did she?
Her gaze swung back to Eirik, her eyes settling on his broad back. He disappeared through the open doors, and for the first time in this madcap journey, Reese felt bereft and surprisingly empty.
* * * * *
Most of the day and early evening she and the rest of the slaves remained standing outside the
hall or rather sitting, because after a couple hours, the majority of the group had collapsed on their feet. Thinking they’d been forgotten, Reese was surprised when a redheaded teen was sent outside to see to their needs. A pout souring his freckled face, he could barely walk because of the huge broadsword clinking around his ankles.
Vikings were definitely sure of themselves! Reese snorted. Sending a pubescent teenager to handle
A half-a dozen slaves seemed utterly preposterous at best, but of course considering the current condition of their group purely understandable. Though not in as bad a condition as the others, she’d probably vomit if made to row another league.
Without saying a word, their young escort took the guiding rope and ushered them to a stable attached to the main hall. More than twenty feet long and equally as wide, the addition echoed with the sounds of farm animals. Instead of taking them inside, he motioned for them to sit. Moments later, a heavy set woman carrying a basket filled with flatbread came hustling out of the adjacent hall. On her heels, a young girl followed carrying a bucket filled with salted fish. They set them down in the center of their ragtag group, then scurried back inside.
Ten points for Eirik the Hottie! They might be slaves, but at least he treated them better than Bjarni. For the past three days, she and the other slaves had subsisted on only scraps.
Famished and not sure when she’d get her next meal, Reese dove in and grabbed her portion.
The bread was ten times harder than the grocery store variety she enjoyed, and the fish was overly salty, but she was grateful and even reached for seconds before they were suddenly hauled inside the stable.
Nostrils assailed by the smell of animals and fresh excrement, Reese stumbled along as they were escorted to a stall containing a sow and her piglets. It was a far cry from her one-bedroom apartment, but much better than a rocking ship. Bone weary, Reese scooped together a pallet of warm hay and settled in for the night.
* * * * *
“Get up!”
Reese sat up with a start. After wiping the sleep from her eyes, she groaned. Allen and the rest of the gang down at The Comic League refused to give up their practical joke.
Who am I kidding? This wasn’t a prank or even a nightmare. Her senses were sharp as ever. Birds chirped nearby. She could smell every single animal in a fifty yard radius. And her morning breath made her tongue taste like an old shoe. Reese sighed. She had no idea what this reality was, but for the time being she was stuck.
“Get up!” their escort from the day before repeated. This time he wasn’t alone, a dark-haired boy stood beside him, chewing on an apple.
Resigned, Reese rose to her feet. And just in time, because he yanked on the guiding rope attached to her wrists, almost sending her to her knees.
Thoughts of sweet revenge swirling in her head, she followed their two-boy guard through the village until they stood on the shores of an inlet. In quick order, the boys removed their bindings. The redhead then stepped forward and nudged one of the captives over to the water’s edge. Confused, the man wrapped his arms around his middle as waves lapped at the hem of his robes.
Fear bubbled in the pit of Reese’s stomach.
“You’re going to have to show him,” the redhead’s companion muttered around the apple shoved in his mouth.
With a sigh of exasperation, the other boy squatted, scooped up a handful of water, and splashed it in the old man’s face. “Wash...wash!” He instructed, pretending to scrub his face and body.
Catching on, the old man unwound the turban from around his hand, then shucked his black robe. His scrawny behind jiggled as he waded into the inlet.
Heart racing at this new development, Reese hung back while the others undressed.
Chapter Four
Of course, Reese wanted to get in and wash off three days’ worth of sweat and grime. And yes, she knew she would have to reveal her true identity to Eirik in order to get near him. She just didn’t want it to happen this way—in her birthday suit and in front of so many people.
So when the boy’s sword point swung toward her, Reese stood her ground. Even when he jabbed it at her belly several times, she didn’t flinch. Her show of defiance caused the redhead’s companion to laugh. And in turn, the boy turned as red as a beet.
“You can’t handle a little thrall?” The dark-haired boy threw down his apple, then wiped his hands down the front of his linen tunic. “Let me show you how it’s done.” He moved to stand behind her, but before either of them could box her in, Reese pivoted a
t the same time she reached out and grabbed the hilt of his sword, pulling it from the scabbard.
Made for a boy, Reese had no problem hefting the broad sword in defense. Planting her feet, she smiled in bravado while they argued back and forth, forgetting her temporarily. Still, she refused to let her guard down. She wanted to make it back home in one piece, not skewered like a kabob on a stick.
With his balls thoroughly busted by his companion, the redhead turned his attention back to her and advanced. Reese braced herself. He might be a couple of inches shorter than her own five foot seven, but he was solid. Fortunately, his brain hadn’t quite caught up with his height. He clumsily lifted his sword and then brought it down toward her. Before his weapon made contact with her left shoulder, she sidestepped him. The full force of his swing knocked him off balance, sending him stumbling forward. Possessed of two left feet, he went sprawling in the mud, losing his sword.
Not taking any chances, Reese placed herself between him and his weapon, and then turned her attention to his companion. Instead of fighting, the other boy spun on his heel and ran back to the village.
* * * * *
Nils prayed to Odin. If anything happened to Thoren before he could gather reinforcements, his life would be forfeit. If it wasn’t already! Frantic, he pushed on the heavy doors of the keep, and stepped into the main hall, which also served as a banquet area. Most of Eirik’s men were still breaking their fast, but not their leader.
He stepped in the path of Leika, a serving wench. “Where is Eirik?”
“It’s lördag. He’s in the bathhouse with Bjarni and...” Nils scuttled away before she could finish.
How could he be so stupid! Of course, Erik wasn’t in the great hall; it was the one day of the week all Vikings bathed together. That was the reason why Thoren got it in his head to play a little joke on the thralls by taking them down to the river and introducing them to their weekly custom.