Zephyr's Cursed Pardon

Zephyr Chapter 1

Flames—there were flames everywhere, surrounding us.

The heat was suffocating, making it feel as if my skin were burning even though the fires didn’t touch me.

Screams filled the night air along with the flames and smoke, tinged with the scent of burning wood and flesh.

People were running, others shouting. It was chaos.

How had it come to this? Why were we dragged into this by Aksel?

As Jarl, he was in command. I answered my own question.

However, he wasn’t someone I’d willingly follow if given a choice.

But I didn’t have a choice. My family were farmers and craftsmen who worked the Jarl’s land and lived under his rule.

My father had been the one to insist I go on this crazy trip across the great sea to this new land that other returning Vikings had talked about.

Aksel’s eyes had gleamed with greed when he heard of the rich land, gold, and more that could be had.

He wanted it all. And tonight, he had finally shown his true colors.

He was ransacking the village of natives, the Agawan.

He ordered everyone to do more than plunder it.

He wanted everyone killed or enslaved. The women were to be raped and enslaved if possible.

The children were to be separated from their parents to be slaves as well.

The men, with few exceptions, were to be killed.

Some in our group didn’t want to do those things.

The Agawan had welcomed us and taught us many things about this new world in the weeks we’d been here.

Stealing, sure, maybe some, that was the life of our people, but the rape and murder was a no for me.

Never for the fun of it did I kill. In battle, I was more than ready to let my inner warrior come out.

The problem was that if our minority group spoke up, we’d face being killed as well. So, as I stood here in the madness, I resolved to help as many of the natives as possible to escape, while maintaining the cover that I was going along with Aksel’s order.

Ten feet away, I saw one of Aksel’s biggest followers take a woman to the ground. She screamed and pleaded for help. Her eyes met mine. I wanted to help her. Scanning the immediate area, I noted that no one from my group was nearby. They were too busy elsewhere in the village.

Racing up to him with my seax, which was merely a long knife, I wished I had something more. But only the wealthy had battle-axes and swords. Men like me had a seax or a spear.

He glanced up from the struggling woman.

He must’ve thought I was running past because he did nothing to defend himself.

Instead, he looked back at her, leering as he tore her top.

He never saw me raise my seax. I embedded it in the back of his neck.

Immediately, his body dropped onto her like a rock.

His body spasmed. I shoved him off her and sliced his throat for good measure.

His eyes no longer reflected lust and greed.

They were filled with disbelief as the light faded from them.

I recognized the face but couldn’t recall his name.

The woman cowered away from me. She scrambled on her hands and feet across the ground. She no doubt thought I’d killed him to take his place. I held up my hands. We couldn’t fully understand each other, so I gestured for her to go while I repeated over and over, “Run. Hide.”

Eventually, she got the idea of what I was attempting to say. She scrambled to her feet, gave me one more frightened, then disbelieving look, said something I didn’t understand, and then ran into the nearby woods. I sent up a prayer to the gods that she’d escape.

With her gone, I faced the destruction that was still happening. I went forward. I had to see who else I could save from this horrible fate. If I died in the attempt, so be it. I raced into the smoke-laden air to face my future.

It was the memory of smoke choking me that finally registered and yanked me to consciousness. I gasped, sat up, and surveyed my surroundings. In the dim light, the outlines of furniture, walls, and shuttered windows made me realize where I was and what had happened.

I was in my bed, in my room, in my house. There was no fire or any of the other terrible things. It had been a dream, a memory from long ago. One I kept hoping one day would go away, but it hadn’t in centuries.

I tossed the sheet from my sweat-soaked body.

It was September, but in Florida, that meant it was still sunny, humid, almost tropical, and blazing hot.

Last night's forecast called for a high of ninety-two degrees. Since it was one of the wettest months for us, the chance of a heavy afternoon thunderstorm or even tropical storms and hurricanes, although the weatherman hadn’t said anything about those, was higher.

But despite the chance, my club brothers and I were going on a ride.

Because of the weather risks, the tourist crowds were smaller, making for more enjoyable riding.

I picked up my cell phone from the nightstand and checked the time. There was barely any light showing around the shutters on my windows—6:15 a.m. Damn, I hoped to sleep in since the ride wasn’t until later in the morning, and it was the weekend. I was off today.

Rising from my bed, I stretched, groaning as muscles gave way and joints cracked.

I made my way to my bathroom. After turning on the light and taking a piss, I stepped up to the sink to do my preparation for the day.

I showered last night, so I didn't need another shower until after the ride. As I brushed my teeth, I cataloged myself. My long, dirty-blond hair was messy. I’d brush and braid it in a minute.

My beard only needed a quick comb, and then I'd be good to go.

The rest of me was in order, I just needed to get dressed.

After my teeth were clean, I brushed out my hair.

I braided a section of hair at each temple with a piece of leather, then pulled it all back into a low ponytail.

It would keep it out of my face while I rode.

The brushing of my beard was followed by splashing cold water on my face.

Then, I was ready to dress. I threw on my typical uniform—jeans, steel-toed boots, a shirt, and my cut.

The leather cut proclaimed that I was a member of the Grave Prowlers MC. I was proud and honored to wear it.

In my kitchen, I started the coffee, then perused my refrigerator to see what I had to eat. Luckily, the prospects had brought in the groceries two days ago. I began making eggs, sausage, and toast. I wasn’t in the mood to fool with making potatoes, although I loved them.

I’d had one cup of coffee and was working on the second one when there was a heavy knock on my front door.

“Yo, come in,” I shouted.

I was busy trying not to burn the sausage. Seconds later, in strolled Fenrir. He was the club’s computer god and my best friend.

“Damn, did you make enough?” he asked.

Fenrir went straight to the coffeemaker after snagging a cup from the cabinet. He knew my house as well as his own, and vice versa. I didn’t mind him making himself at home. It was the same for any of my brothers. We’d been together far too long to have boundaries.

“Maybe. What has you up this early? Don’t tell me you stayed up all night on your goddamn computers again.”

“I wasn’t up all night, but I was working on something for Raider. You know he doesn’t like to wait.”

Fenrir was right. Our president wasn’t the most patient person on the planet.

“Was he happy with what you did or found for him?” I asked, plating up two plates of food. Fenrir buttered the four slices of toast that popped up from the toaster.

After placing the meal on the kitchen island, I took out two glasses and filled them with orange juice. We sat down to eat. Fenrir studied the breakfast before him. Then he turned his head to me, grinned, and said, “You’ll make someone a helluva wife one day.” He laughed.

I shoved him, almost knocking him off his stool.

“Shut the fuck up, or I’ll take it back. Answer the question.”

“Yeah, he was satisfied. I got a few hours of sleep and then woke up. I thought I’d come see if your dumbass was up yet.”

“Takes a dumbass to know one. And as you can see, yes, I’m awake. I can’t wait to go on the ride later. Wish it were sooner.”

While one of us spoke, the other ate. I had to wait for Fenrir to swallow before he replied to what I said.

“Me too. Why are you up so early? You look haunted,” he observed.

When I said nothing, he continued.

“Did you have another nightmare about that night?” he asked softly.

I gave him a tiny nod. “Yeah, I did. I don’t know why. It started the same as always,” I confessed.

“How far did you get?”

“To the part where I rescued the first woman.”

Fenrir sighed deeply. “Man, I wish those fucking dreams, nightmares, whatever you want to call them, would go away. We know what happened. We know what we did. And we’ve been fucking paying for it forever.

There’s no need to grind it into our souls all the time,” he muttered darkly.

He had nightmares, too. I believe all of us did.

“I hear ya, and I wish the same. I guess this is all part of the curse. And since none of us has found a way to break it, I suppose it’ll continue for eternity. Fuck, let’s stop thinking and talking about it. I want to enjoy the day, not be in a funk the whole goddamn time,” I muttered.

“You’re right. Sorry. Oh, by the way, the meal is good. I still say you’ll make a good wife.”

Fenrir smirked as I tried to shove him off the stool again. The rest of breakfast passed in a blur of chatter, arguing, and laughter.

Once we were finished, and that included putting things into the dishwasher and wiping down the kitchen, Fenrir and I decided to head over to the clubhouse to see who was there and what they were up to.