Chapter 8 Skarth the Godless #3
The man withdraws his sword, placing the blade between the bars and positioning it over Ulf’s heart. “Speak that Pagen blasphemy again, heathen, I dare thee.”
The air is still.
Violence brews.
It is time.
A pause, before Ulf smirks. “Meinfretr.”
That’s my cue.
The man pulls back his sword as Emeline screams. Ulf, however, peers overhead and locks eyes with me, for he knew all along I was here because, although enemies, we share one common interest—Emeline. And this is why we will always be on the same side.
I come out of hiding, sword swinging, taking anyone down.
It’s an ambush where I have the advantage.
They don’t stand a chance. Three are dead, four fatally wounded.
In the violence and bloodshed is where I thrive, and I don’t stop until I am within feet of the woman I love with every piece of my heart.
My back is to her, and I dare the remaining five men to come at me because they will not win. But their leader is the one I need to disarm because he is stabbing Ulf. As much as I wish he were hurt, dead is something I cannot allow because I need this bastard alive.
Spinning around, I come face-to-face with Emeline—my hugrekki.
It feels like centuries, not years, since I last saw her.
Everything is still for a fraction of time as I take her in. Those eyes I wish to drown in as she undresses me with desire. Those lips I wish to part with my tongue. That body I want yielding and writhing under mine. And that soul I wish to possess as she possesses mine.
She is still the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and my world is suddenly complete once more. She looks at me with love and…hatred. I expected as much. Our reunion is sure to burn this country to the ground.
I wish I could savor this moment in time, but it’ll have to wait.
“I’ve missed you, Hugrekki,” I say, cutting the rope that bounds her.
“And I have missed you, heathen,” she replies, retrieving a sword from a fallen soldier.
I know better than to ask if she’s okay.
Instead, I throw my hammer axe at the man stabbing Ulf. It lodges into the back of his shoulder, disarming him.
“Took you long enough,” Ulf quips, bleeding from his wounds.
He’ll sadly live.
“Too bad they didn’t cut out your tongue.”
“The gods would be saddened not to hear my melodious voice,” he bites back with a smirk.
As much as I hate him, I’ve missed this arsehole.
I kick the man in the back, resulting in him falling face-first in the mud. When he tries to rise, I press my boot into the small of his back, pinning him down. Bending down, I snatch the keys from his belt. He dares not move as I unlock Ulf’s cage and cut through his binds.
Ulf picks up a fallen sword and charges toward the man. He doesn’t hesitate to stab him in the flank.
Just as he is about to deliver a fatal strike, I intervene. “What good is he to us dead? You were caught with the intent, no doubt, to smoke me out and gather information on who works against us. All this would have been for nothing.”
“It brought you here, did it not?” he contests, angered that I am about to spoil his murderous fun.
“He’s right.”
And just like that, both Ulf and I are at the mercy of our queen.
Blood is slathered across her face and chest, painting her in her true warrior form. Her hair is mussed. Her eyes are wild. The world bows at the feet of my hugrekki.
Men lay in bloodied heaps, their fate ended with a swift swing of her sword. Let this be a lesson to those who believe she will be defeated with ease.
Now that things have calmed somewhat, I realize the real war is between Emeline and me. There is a hardness about her which I fear was erected when I left. I thought it was to save her heartache. But I was wrong.
“Well, this reunion is as comfortable as being locked inside an iron maiden.” Ulf has picked up on the animosity.
And he is right.
Emeline can’t stand to look at me.
“What is your name?” she asks the man who still lies with his face in the mud.
“Fuck you, whore.”
“Fuck you, whore…seems rather suitable for a swine like you,” Ulf mocks, before stomping on the man’s hand and breaking it.
“You will take us to Aethelbald now.”
“Why would I do that? If you do not kill me, then he will. I am dead either way.”
Emeline mulls over his words.
He’s right.
We need collateral. Something he would fight for.
“What can we provide that Aethelbald cannot?” I ask, hoping Emeline doesn’t have my head for intervening.
“Yes, Fuck You Whore,” Ulf pipes in, tossing his blade in the air and catching it repeatedly. “Why shouldn’t we cut off your tiny prick and feed it to you?”
“Just go over there.” I point in the distance as Ulf’s smart mouth isn’t helping us.
“You are a good Christian, then?” Emeline asks, looking at the crucifix that hangs from his throat.
“Like all good Englishmen,” he confirms.
“Pledge your loyalty to me, and I will ensure your family are taken care of. My kingdom needs new religious guidance. Perchance you can lead the way?”
I look at her, shaking my head.
What is she doing?
She is welcoming this arsehole willingly into her kingdom when he was minutes away from doing gods know what to her?
I understand the dire circumstances we face, but we can’t trust this man.
“We need to talk.” I grip her elbow but am surprised when she yanks her arm from my hold.
“Unhand me, heathen. I do not require assistance to walk. I have survived many moons without you…you ensured it this way.”
Ulf hisses in a sharp breath, granting me sympathy for what’s to come. He takes over watching our prisoner as I follow Emeline to the woods.
Her rapid strides indicate her rage.
But I follow nonetheless.
She continues her trek deeper into the vastness. No fear plagues her. As she owns this land and the mood she carries, no man would dare cross her for fear of losing their head.
I don’t speak.
I will accept whatever fate is headed my way.
Emeline’s breaths grow quicker.
She is becoming more incensed.
“Hugrekki…”
My sentence remains unfinished because she spins around and slaps me. “Do not dare Hugrekki me.”
I open my mouth, ready to apologize, but words are robbed from me when she slaps me again.
I quash down my anger, reminding myself that retaliating will not do me any good.
“Where have you been? You know what?” she adds, beginning to pace. “I do not even care. I survived without you, and I plan to continue doing so. You may leave. You are not needed. I will find our sons alone!”
The moment she spews such hateful words, I can see her remorse. I’m not angered at what she says, but rather, my heart mourns because it is true—my sons are gone.
“Skarth…” she says, her voice calming as she comes to a standstill. “Forgive me for delivering the news of our sons this way. It was wrong of me.”
Now, I’m the one who begins to pace.
I need to…
I’m going to…
I am going to fucking kill every Christian in this godforsaken country.
“How?” It’s all I can express because I can focus on nothing but my sons.
“They were taken from their beds. My ladies-in-waiting slain.”
“How?” I repeat, unable to look at her.
“My court was entertaining Lord Gunter. He rode on behalf of Prince Ludwig, Duke of Miltenburg, who had asked for my hand in—”
She abruptly ceases talking because she knows I am barely holding back my rage.
“Where were you when our sons were taken? An oversight such as this is not in your nature when it comes to our kin.”
Silence.
And this appears to just get worse.
I need to hurt something, and the closest thing within reach is a tree, which I punch so hard, a branch perched high snaps and falls to the ground.
However, I do not feel better.
The only thing that will appease this burning rage is to throttle the cunt who dares touch my woman.
“I have not heard from you in so long,” she confesses with a sigh. “I did not even know if you were alive. Nor if you cared.”
“And to fill your void, you decided to literally do so, is that so?”
Her silence is answer enough.
“You cannot be angry.”
“Do not tell me what I can or cannot be, as you gave up that right when you bedded another man!”
Striking out, I punch another tree, rattling birds from their slumber nests as they screech, flying into the night sky.
“You cannot hate me more than I hate myself.”
“Do not doubt my aversion for you right now, Emeline!”
“Fuck you, you Viking bastard!” she cries, chasing me and gripping my arm to stop me from pacing. “You were not there when we needed you. You were not there to help when Loki told me the universe detailed our meeting.”
Instantly, my anger subsides. “What did you say?”
Finally, we lock eyes, and although I am filled with absolute fury, I still love her with every beat of my heart.
Her lower lip trembles. The only time she shows vulnerability is when our children are involved. “I fear Loki sees into the future. He sees things that have not happened. He told me of your return and how our reunion would not be a happy one.”
“How right he was.”
This cannot be.
My son, a seer?
Some may see this as a blessing, but this is nothing but a curse.
“This is heresy,” Emeline says, covering her mouth in fear. “What does it mean as a Viking?”
“They are called Seier. Or seers. They are important to my people because they can translate the wishes of the gods. Odin himself was said to be one, as he learned from Freyja, the most powerful seeress of them all.
“But because of their power, they are forever in danger. Being the voice of the gods comes with a price.”
Emeline nods, her eyes filling with tears. “I thought as much.”
“Although respected amongst the clan he calls family, other Vikings may see him as a threat or a commodity. They will want him to be their connection to the gods.”
Though an honor that the gods chose my son as their vessel, I cannot help but feel his path has already been paved without a say.
“Does anyone else know of this?”
Emeline shakes her head.