Chapter 5 Queen Emeline #2
“I would be honored to have you ride with me, but please know, you do not owe Skarth or me anything. I ask you to ride with me as I need a trusted ally. I need someone who wishes ill on every bastard Christian who takes without asking.
“England is once again bleeding at the hands of cowardly men. I cannot stand back and allow her to perish. Those who are against us will pay with their heads, and the heads of those they love.”
Alruna’s eyes are animated with talk of revenge because nothing is sweeter than the smell of vengeance on those who’ve wronged you. “I will take you to Skarth and help you take the heads of those who stand in our way.”
I smile because retribution has never felt this good.
* * *
Alruna’s spirit reminds me so much of Catherine. She rode back to Northumbria with Lord Louis, Aric in tow. It’s apparent they’ve formed a connection, which puts my mind somewhat at ease, as I trust he will protect her if need be.
I hope it does not come to that, but war is coming, and only the strongest will survive.
Alruna is watching her kinsfolk, waiting for the moment to flee. She knows their routines better than I, so I will await her command when it is safe to flee.
“Two men are guarding Bodil’s camp,” she whispers, eyes never wavering from outside. “They will not sleep. I am unsure we will be able to alert Ulf of our plans.”
“That is a sacrifice I will have to make. He will find me.” And I know he will.
Ulf is smart, and once he realizes I’m gone, he’ll do anything to find me. If Bodil wishes to hold him here against his will, then Godspeed to her.
Alruna nods. “All right, let’s go.”
We both stick to the shadows, becoming one with the night, and thanks to Alruna’s knowledge of her people and the terrain, we are able to sneak away. We are almost at the clearing when an arrow zips past my head and lodges in the trunk of a tree.
I don’t think twice and dive to the ground, ready for attack, because it’s apparent from Alruna’s terror that she isn’t privy to this ambush. She tosses me her blade as she withdraws her sword.
A man jumps down from a tree, bow and arrow in hand, but Alruna drives her sword through his throat before he has a chance to shoot again. We both silently wait for more men to attack, but nothing.
Perhaps he was instructed to keep an eye out and mistook us for the enemy?
Alruna would know his hiding spot, however, so I doubt this is protocol. When Bodil emerges from the shadows, I know she put this in place.
“I am very disappointed in you, Alruna.” Bodil shakes her head. “You help a Christian? What would the gods think?”
“The gods stopped caring a long time ago,” she replies, never wavering.
“You shame your people.”
“And you do not by leaving men, women, and children in Wessex? Do not scold me when you are nothing but a traitor yourself.”
Alruna has just incited a battle because Bodil will not allow this insult to go unpunished. But Alruna is ready as she points her sword toward Bodil. “You will grant us safe passage, or we will take it…as well as your head.”
The moonlight amplifies Bodil’s grin, and I realize she was never going to let us leave. Viking men and women suddenly appear from the shadows, weapons in hand.
“You destroy everything you touch,” she says to me, her hatred clear. “No wonder Skarth does not want to be found.”
His name passing her lips is all it takes for me to strike because I have fought far meaner villains than she. I elbow a man in the nose, and when he drops his sword, I pick it up and am determined to cut down anyone in my way.
Alruna and I are swarmed, but we fight back-to-back, attacking from every angle while protecting the other. It’s how Skarth taught me to fight, and it’s never failed me before.
When one man is down, another two take his place, but Alruna and I do not allow the odds to intimidate us. She is a strong fighter, and there’s a reason for it.
“Skarth taught you to fight, did he not?” I ask breathlessly. She doesn’t need to answer, for I recognize her skills as they are akin to mine.
“Yes.”
“Then he also taught you not to lose,” I reply, spilling a man’s guts onto the ground. “Victory or Valhalla!”
“Victory or Valhalla!” she repeats as we fight with all our might.
Bodil waits back, watching as her men fall to the ground, wounded or dead. Her panic is clear. Her arrogance has condemned her village.
When her people begin to retreat, a war cry leaves her. She comes charging for me, sword raised high in the air. I prepare for her attack with a grin, as I will take great pleasure in ending her life.
She pushes those who stand in her way, and we immediately engage in warfare. I block her strikes and dodge her attacks, but she is a strong warrior and doesn’t surrender. She soon catches me off guard and draws blood as she slashes my arm with her sword.
“Yield, or I will kill you.”
“You can try,” I reply, coating two fingers in the blood that seeps from my wound and wiping them across my eyes, leaving a bloodied war mask behind.
Bloodshed only rouses my bloodlust, and I attack her with force. Alruna fights off her kin, protecting me, and I shall never forget this sacrifice she has made. She is my eyes when my back is turned.
Bodil fends off my attacks, but it’s apparent she wasn’t expecting me to be equipped with such techniques, and when I bend low, only to elbow her in the ribs, she soon realizes she will not win this battle.
“I will give you one chance and one chance only to leave here. I will not offer this again.”
When I hear a snicker in the distance, I know that Ulf is watching. He knows better than to fight my battles for me, but he will intervene if my life is in danger.
“I was trying to leave,” I counter, circling her. “You are the one who stopped me.”
A hearty laugh erupts from Ulf, which distracts Bodil. She turns to look at him. “How did you get free?”
Ulf’s laughter only grows. “It is going to take a lot more than some rope to bind me, sweetness.”
I use her distraction to my advantage and draw my foot down onto her leg, snapping her shin. She collapses onto the ground, and just as she attempts to recover, I place the tip of my sword into the hollow of her throat.
“Your arrogance betrayed you. Never underestimate me again!” It is a warning to them all.
“Finish it,” Bodil says, eyes locked with mine.
But I shake my head. “The defeat you must carry is my victory.”
I withdraw my sword from her throat and challenge anyone else to take her place.
No one does.
Alruna stands by my side, breathless and covered in blood, but she’s ready if someone dares to take us on. Ulf saunters over, casually sipping ale from a horned cup. He looks at the scene of mayhem we created and smiles.
“I am offended you were planning to leave without a goodbye.”
Alruna stifles a chuckle behind her hand.
“I thought you may be indisposed,” I reply, unable to keep the sarcasm from my tone.
Ulf rips the shirt of a fallen Viking and wraps the fabric around the wound on my arm just as he tended to my injured hand. There is tenderness to his touch.
“You just can’t seem to stay out of trouble,” he says with a smile. “Do we know where Skarth is?”
“Yes, he is in Wessex,” Alruna replies, her eyes narrowed as she can clearly see the affection between Ulf and me.
Her loyalty to Skarth has me liking her even more.
Ulf grins when he notices her. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced. I’m—”
“I know who you are.” Alruna interrupts Ulf, rolling her eyes.
Fair to say his charms are lost on her.
“Have you ever considered that perhaps Skarth chooses to remain hidden? That in fact he may not want to be found…by you.”
I inhale slowly, knowing what Bodil is doing. There is no victory in defeat. She would rather I kill her than live with the shame of being defeated by a Saxon.
And that is the reason I merely smile.
“No, I have not.”
She waits for more, but there is no more. I don’t care what she thinks because she and her opinion mean nothing to me.
“I bid thee farewell. I do hope I never see you again.”
There’s no need to remain here any longer, so with sword in hand, I walk toward the clearing in the forest because Wessex awaits. Ulf and Alruna follow, and it’s all I need because with both on my side, we cannot lose.
Once we’re clear of the village, I stop and raise my chin to peer into the heavens. I’m not having a moment with the Lord, but rather, I am trying to gather my bearings.
“It amazes me,” Ulf says, standing beside me. “That you are more Viking than you are Saxon.”
I study the stars above and use them as a road map. Soon, I familiarize myself with my location and know that Wessex is to the north.
I finally have direction.
“The road will be long and dangerous, so now is the time to retreat if you will. This is my war. I do not expect you to fight alongside me.”
Ulf yawns while Alruna listens intently.
“I will not pass judgment—”
I, however, do not have time to finish because Ulf wraps his arm around my waist and draws me into his chest. The heat of his body and the cadence of his heart have me biting my lip to stifle my moan.
“Princess, you talk too much. Save your manners because they are wasted on heathens like us. I don’t need an excuse to spill Christian blood.”
“It is not only Christian blood we spill,” I remind Ulf as I attempt to quash my desires. Being pressed this closely to him is driving me to the point of insanity.
“I do not discriminate,” he replies with an arrogant grin. “I hate everyone.”
He soon turns serious, and with a hesitant touch, he runs his thumb along the apple of my cheek. “Besides, I will always fight alongside you.”
“Even if it is to find Skarth?” I ask because their friendship has always bordered on love/hate.
“I will do anything for you, ástin mín,” he professes, eyes locked on mine. How that moniker affects me so. “But I must ask, what if Bodil was right—what if Skarth does not want to be found?”
He asks this not to be cruel. On the contrary, he asks this because he is trying to protect me from a very probable fate. But Skarth has been on a sabbatical long enough. Now, I need the warrior that he is. But more importantly, I need him to be a father.
Is Ulf hiding something from me? What does he know of Skarth that he does not want me to know?
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “He does not have a choice in the matter.”