Chapter 4 Sword-Time #2
He floated closer, hope and excitement searing in his chest as he spotted a dark head among the people bustling around the camp. A tall woman with dark brown hair. He scrambled to follow her.
Where was she going?
What was she doing here?
He was looking over the woman’s shoulder, watching her approach several cages made of wooden stakes. There were people crammed inside. Thralls.
What was he looking at?
The woman wore a simple brown dress; neither sword nor dagger girded her waist. She wasn’t one of the raiders, but still, she pulled a key from her pouch and started to unlock one of the cages. Agitation spread among the prisoners.
“Andora. Hey, Andora, listen to me!” The voice was male, smooth like honey, and vaguely familiar. “This isn’t the right time to free your friends. You have to go now. Hide. Bide your time. Come back in the dark. Come back when they’re not expecting you.”
What in Hel’s name?
The woman turned her head, and finally Njord could see her profile. Not Ahti. No grown woman at all, but a girl of maybe sixteen summers. She glared at a person locked alone in the cage next to the one she was trying to open. The man who’d spoken to her.
Njord stared disbelievingly at cropped short golden hair and amber eyes.
“Shut up, Thori!”
“They’ll catch you. If you stay, they’ll catch you all.”
Before Andora could respond, there was movement behind her, and a heavy hand clasped her shoulder. She froze, her breath hitching. A man loomed behind her, his face contorted in fury.
And Njord knew that face. Blasted Sveinn. Cruel and ruthless, and willing to trade with whatever brought the most silver.
“What do we have here?” Sveinn growled, snatching the keys from Andora’s trembling fingers. “What are you doing with my keys, little rat?”
The girl gritted her teeth even as she was starting to shake. But before Sveinn could unleash his anger on her, Thori spoke up.
“It was me.” He stepped forward in his cage, and Njord could make out heavy chains around his wrists, gleaming with binding runes. Their seier must hurt.
“What?”
Sveinn’s thin lips were pressed into a tight line.
“I promised the girl I’d take her to Asgard with me if she managed to free me,” Thori said, a cocky smirk on his lips. “Didn’t expect her to be stupid enough to try it.”
Sveinn’s eyes narrowed, studying Thori with a mix of suspicion and contempt.
“So, this is your scheme, is that what you’re saying?”
“You call manipulating a little girl a scheme?” Thori taunted. “You’re indeed a bad chieftain if I can use even a stupid thrall girl against you so easily.”
An ugly grin spread across Sveinn’s face.
“Shall I punish you then?”
Njord held his breath. Surely the self-centered áss wouldn’t take the girl’s place, and that meant—
“You’re asking me to take a girl’s punishment? You think that bothers me?”
“You should be scared.”
“Nothing scares a god of the AEsir!”
Sveinn’s gaze shifted back to the girl.
“Get back to your duties, little rat, before I change my mind.”
Andora hesitated, her wide eyes darting between Thori and Sveinn.
Njord felt like he was holding his breath even in this ethereal form.
Thori inclined his head, barely a nod. But his intent was clear. The girl turned and fled, disappearing between the tents.
The image flickered and swirled. Distorted, as if through rippling water, Njord watched Thori being dragged out of his cage and tied to a wooden frame in the center of the camp.
Blinking, Njord stared at Thori’s bronzed back, his tunic ripped all the way down to his waist.
“Let’s see if you can take a girl’s punishment then,” Sveinn said, his voice low and venomous. He circled Thori, taking in his exposed form and raising a vicious-looking whip. He traced it over Thori’s back, a mocking imitation of a lover’s touch that had Thori’s muscles clenching.
Seeing Odinsson suffer should satisfy Njord’s thirst for revenge, but he was overwhelmed by a sudden urge to wrap his hands around Sveinn’s neck and squeeze until the life faded from his colorless eyes.
The first lash landed with a crack, splitting the air and biting into Thori’s back.
Njord flinched, his fists clenched at his sides.
But Thori didn’t cry out. His hands clutched the wooden beam he was tied to, his muscles coiling with the effort to remain still.
Another lash, then another, each one executed with full force.
Njord’s breath caught. He’d hated Thori for so long—hated him for Jokull’s death, for the gaping wound he had cut into Njord’s heart.
But now, watching him endure this punishment, his hatred faded, replaced by something dangerously close to pity.
Certainly confusion. A grudging respect he wasn’t yet ready to acknowledge.
Five hits landed on Thori’s back.
Ten.
He cried out at the twelfth, whimpered at the twentieth.
Why didn’t Sveinn stop?
Growling in agitation, Njord pushed against the barriers of the vision.
His anger made rain clouds gather above the raider’s camp, and the image in front of his mind’s eye spun.
He found himself standing behind the frame, looking straight into Thori’s face, distorted from pain.
So close was he, he’d only have to reach out to touch Thori’s cheek, his sweaty temples.
Thori opened his eyes, and his amber gaze met Njord’s as if he wasn’t a wandering spirit but really there.
And as the next blow landed, he gasped. Screamed.
But he didn’t close his eyes again; no, he stared at Njord as if he were a shield holding him afloat in a raging sea.
There was something vulnerable and pleading in his gaze that made Njord want to step forward and—
Skalmold’s voice pulled him back to the fire.
Gasping, Njord woke from the vision. He felt disoriented, sick.
What was that?
He glared at Skalmold, who was crouching in front of him. Heavy rain could be heard pouring down outside the cave.
“Why did you pull me back? I was just seeing—Never mind! Why did you send me to this place? There was no trace of my sister. Just a girl who vaguely resembled her.”
Skalmold watched him with an unreadable expression.
“What did you see? You got so agitated, even the weather changed with your distress. I decided to guide you back to prevent you from getting lost between the worlds.”
“How kind of you,” Njord growled. His head was pounding as if he’d drunk too much mead. It felt like Thori’s screams and the sharp cracking of the whip still echoed through his mind. “What your vision showed me was the blasted Thori Odinsson instead of my sister.”
She blinked at him, clearly surprised.
“But—No, this can’t be.” Frowning, she grabbed the cup from which he’d been drinking and sniffed the contents as if she’d not brewed the potion herself. Then she took a sip. “It should’ve worked,” she mumbled.
“But it didn’t. Worse, it showed me something I need to take care of before I can continue my search for Ahti.”
“How so?”
“You showed me a raider’s camp. I know the fjord. It lies on Vanaheim’s soil.”
“A raiding party of the AEsir in Vanaheim?” She jumped to her feet. “What are you waiting for? Let me get my sword. I’m coming with you.”
“What? No, it wasn’t the AEsir.” Despite himself, he couldn’t suppress a smile. Norns, this priestess was ridiculous.
“But you said Thori Odinsson was among them.”
Njord sighed.
“Odinsson is their captive. But there are others. I can’t stand by when Vanr raiders drag innocent people off to the slave markets of Asgard or Niflheim.”
“No, we can’t have that.” Skalmold’s pale green eyes lit up with determination. The expression was so familiar, but he couldn’t have said whom she reminded him of if his life had depended on it.
“Who’s we?” Njord asked to cover up his confusion.
“Can’t you see? The vision worked. This is clearly your fate: take revenge on the man who killed your dragon, rid Vanaheim of these slave traders, and find your sister.”
Njord gaped at her. She was clearly mad. Her attempts at interpreting his vision were worse than Ahti’s first tries at divination, and those had truly been awful.
“How would I find my sister during this foray?” he tried to reason with her, although knowing the ways of the seeresses, he shouldn’t have bothered.
Skalmold grinned at him, enthusiastic and girlish.
“Trust me, sea king. You’ll find her.” And with that, she jumped to her feet and began rummaging around in her cave.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting my sword. I’m coming with you.”