Chapter Sixteen #2
“Nay,” Lachlann cut back, scowling at his son before his attention returned to me. “Now we will wait to hear more talk of what happened at the shore. Right now, ’tis being hailed as the Battle of Largs, as our countrymen heroically drove yours from our land once and for all.”
“So our men fled?” I asked. Prayed.
“Aye, like the bloody cowards they are,” Declan ground out, earning another sharp look from his father.
“Aye, many of your people fled, Soren.” Lachlann eyed me curiously. “Lives were lost on both sides, but ’tis said not as many on our side as there might have been given the actions of one berserker Viking warrior as they’re calling you.”
“Then ’twould be my Viking ancestors working through me, because as you well know, they’re of the past now,” I said, unsure what he referred to, assuming this was some odd interrogation on behalf of King Alexander.
“So explain yourself in terms I might understand, for ’twill soon be known I slayed many of yours to save my own. ”
“Actually,” Lachlann divulged, “I just received more word of the battle, and ’tis claimed you took down dozens single-handedly but didn’t kill one.
” He shook his head slowly, clearly trying to make sense of it.
“Your comrades did, but you left a trail of wounded rather than slain. They might not be able to fight for some time, but they now live.” A frown settled on his face.
“’Tis said King Alexander is offering a reward for this merciful berserker, as ’twas reported by many he was cut down in the battle, yet there is no sign of his body. ”
“Bloody hell,” Declan cursed, shaking his head. “I knew nothing good would come of this.” He narrowed his eyes at me again. “If not for you saving my father, I never would have allowed it.”
“Despite it not ultimately being your choice, son,” Lachlann reminded, considering me. “Why didn’t you kill those men? ’Tis strange, given the situation.”
While I debated whether to tell them the truth, as it might work against my reputation as a fierce warrior, it might be prudent now.
Perhaps it would even improve my chances of getting out of this forsaken country alive in the end.
Or they could see it as a weakness and find me less of a threat than I already was.
Hoping they might show me the same mercy I showed their countrymen, I went with the former.
“Because I never wanted to be here to begin with,” I finally confessed. “And I saw no reason to slay men who had done me no harm. ’Tis easy enough to cripple a man in battle rather than take his life. Cripple them enough that your countrymen might stand a chance.”
Although I sensed that surprised them, their expressions remained unchanged.
“And your king?” Lachlann prompted softly. “’Tis rumored King Hákon was on our verra shores.” His level gaze never left my face. “Is that true?”
What harm could it do to tell them now? “’Tis.”
“And now where is he?”
“I couldn’t say,” I managed, still trying to keep the pain from my face, but it was becoming difficult. Overwhelming.
“Do you suspect he will attack again soon?”
“I don’t know.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Declan said dryly, trusting me no more than I would him if our situations were reversed.
“Given your reputation and that you were among the first boats to come ashore, I would say your king thinks highly of you, so you’re closer to him than most. That means you would have a verra good idea what he might do next. ”
“I agree.” Lachlann considered me. “Yet something tells me you willnae be divulging that information.”
He was right. I would not.
“Mayhap he willnae divulge it to us,” Declan said, his tone mildly threatening, “but I suspect our king could get it out of him.” He shrugged. “And we could use that reward, Da.”
“Despite him saving your father’s life and choosing to wound rather than kill your countrymen,” Astrid reminded, frowning at him. “Despite your assurance that you would help see my sister’s husband safely back to her.”
I could not help but wonder at the look that passed between them. Why would Declan assure Astrid of such a thing? Better still, why would she believe him, given his view of our people? Was there love between them? Or mayhap he returned a favor?
I tried to focus on their conversation, but my pain had grown too intense. Sweat had broken out on my brow despite chills sweeping through me, and my vision had begun to blur.
“I think ’tis best Soren rest,” Astrid said before Lachlann and Declan could continue questioning me because I suspected they were by no means finished yet.
“Let us know when he’s well enough to speak with us again,” Lachlann replied, saying more, but his words sounded garbled now that my pain had grown so unbearable. My pain grew even more intense.
“You must drink this, Soren.” Astrid tilted a cup to my lips. “’Twill help you rest and heal.”
Doing as asked, I did my best to get the bitter liquid down, yet something told me as Astrid faded and my eyes drifted shut, that my injury would be too grave in the end.
It seemed a cruel fate that I might be saved, and possibly see Freya once more, and someday meet my child, yet as I struggled through endless pain, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I wouldn’t.
After that, I sometimes stirred awake, drenched in sweat and groaning in agony, and at other times, I was at peace, speaking to Freya in my dreams. Holding her in my arms and kissing her lips.
She stirred my soul as only she could, promising she would come for me. That we would see each other again.
“I’m almost there, husband,” she whispered in my ear. “You just need to wait for me. Stay with me.”
“I will always wait for you,” I promised, and I would.
Or so I hoped.
Breathing had become more difficult, and Freya’s voice more challenging to hear despite how hard I tried.
Was she still talking to me?
Was she still there?
I tried to call out, but I could not. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her, yet it was impossible. A familiar darkness swallowed me, and I knew when I sank into its depths, it was far too late.