Chapter 22 Nøkken
twenty-two
N?kken
Thori
Sleep that night came easier than Thori expected.
Njord hadn’t complained when he’d stolen one of his soft sleeping trousers to wear, and once in bed, Njord had wrapped him comfortably in his arms. The warmth of the sea god’s body pressed against his back felt safer than any fortress wall, safer than the spears and shields of a hundred einherjar, and for once, Thori allowed himself to sink into the comfort without questioning it.
Even in his dreams, the sound of the sea followed him: waves crashing against the shore, the howling of the wind, and the distant cries of the skuas.
So when the lulling rhythm changed, when an uncanny sound threaded through the familiar symphony of the sea, Thori’s warrior instincts stirred even in sleep.
A whisper of cold air brushed across his face like the touch of clammy hands.
Thori shifted.
The soft, rhythmic drip, drip, drip of water echoed in the silence.
Thori’s eyes fluttered open.
The chamber swam into focus, washed in an eerie, silvery light that came neither from the candles nor from the fireplace. It cast long, distorted shadows that crept along the walls and turned the furniture into strange creatures.
Behind him, Njord stirred, his arm tightening around his waist.
“They followed us.”
Njord’s voice was a sleep-rough whisper, brushing against his ear.
Thori shuddered. Blinked. Then he saw them too.
Eyes. Glowing pale green in the darkness, scattered around the chamber like marsh lights.
Watching. Waiting. And Thori realized they belonged to creatures crouching in the shadows.
They mimicked the form of men, yet their limbs were too long, and their skin gleamed wetly whenever a beam of pale light touched them.
“Fucking n?kken,” Njord breathed, and suddenly he was moving, rolling Thori behind him as he reached for the sword that lay within arm’s reach of his bed.
The creatures hissed, and the musty smell of wet wood and seaweed overwhelmed Thori. There were at least six of them, maybe more, lurking in the shadows.
Rising with predatory smoothness, Njord stepped right into their path.
“Stay behind me,” he commanded, just like he had in Njareby.
But just like in Njareby, Thori had no intention of hiding. He was a warrior of Asgard; he wouldn’t cower behind a Vanr chieftain.
Several splendid round shields decorated the wall next to the fireplace, and before Njord could stop him, Thori was rolling across the floor to snatch one up.
“Thori, no!”
The n?kk closest to them lunged at Njord, but Thori threw himself between them and rammed his shield against the creature’s chest. The impact nearly lifted him off his feet, and he could smell the creature’s fishy breath as it snapped at him, its teeth like shards of broken shells.
But most disturbingly, the n?kk was still beautiful.
Despite the wetness of its skin, despite the horrible glow of its eyes, its face looked ethereal and beautiful and terrible.
“I said stay back!” Njord snarled, but there was no time for argument.
Njord was cutting down two creatures at once, but another n?kk had closed in on them. Thori pivoted, using the shield to bash the creature away from Njord’s side, but he was a heartbeat too slow to dodge the retaliatory swipe.
Fire exploded across his shoulder as claws scratched his skin, leaving deep welts. Thori gasped, stumbling backward as warmth spread down his arm.
The scent of his blood seemed to drive the remaining n?kken into a ravenous frenzy. They uttered high-pitched, trilling sounds, their sole focus turned on Thori. But before they could reach him, Njord was by his side.
His blade sang through the air, felling the nearest n?kk with a clean strike that opened its chest from navel to shoulder.
It died with barely a sound. The next managed a gurgling cry as Njord’s sword punched through its chest, emerging from its back in a spray of dark, viscous fluid.
Despite the pain in his shoulder, Thori bashed in the head of another enemy, using his momentum to shove the last n?kk of balance and right into Njord’s waiting blade.
Thori grinned.
“You reckless fool!”
Njord tore a silken sheet from the bed, pressing it against Thori’s bleeding shoulder, even as he continued to kill off the remaining attackers with his other hand.
Ridiculous sea witch.
Thori smiled despite the pain.
The last n?kk, perhaps realizing its doom, tried to flee toward the windows. It never made it. Njord threw his blade with casual elegance. It found the n?kk’s spine, cutting through it with a wet sound.
Hel, watching Njord fight was almost worth the pain.
For a dizzying moment, Thori was caught in the idea of traveling to Asgard at his side one day, not as his thrall but as…
something else. He could imagine him training the einherjar, and the image of Njord putting Asgard’s best warriors in their place had something weirdly appealing to it.
“It’s a bad idea to throw your weapon,” Thori said.
“It’s a worse idea to get clawed open by a fucking n?kk!”
Njord’s voice was tight with anger, and Thori managed a nonchalant shrug.
“I’ll live.”
“Only because you were lucky enough to turn at the last second and it didn’t hit something vital.”
Fetching a pungent tincture from his chest, Njord applied it to Thori’s wounds like a particularly disgruntled healer. It stung, and Thori couldn’t suppress a hiss of pain.
“That was foolish of you,” Njord scolded. “I told you to stay behind me.”
“You needed help.” Thori watched Njord work and, against his will, was fascinated by the delicacy of his touch and the subtle play of muscles in his forearms. “I have to say, though, that you fight almost as well with the sword as you do with the ax.”
“Don’t try to distract me with pretty words. I didn’t need your help; I needed you safe!”
Thori blinked. “What?”
An angry flush painted Njord’s features, and he dabbed at Thori’s wounds a little rougher than necessary. He didn’t answer, looking as if he regretted every choice in his life that had led him to where he was now.
His behavior didn’t make sense. Njord couldn’t be genuinely worried for Thori, so maybe he was distressed by the possible loss of a valuable hostage?
Yes, that had to be it.
Absentmindedly, Thori touched the golden bracelet around his wrist. It was a stunning piece of jewelry, and unlike the collar, it was designed for a respected warrior. The gift could only be mockery, but it felt so…intimate.
Njord finished cleaning the wounds, and on a whim, Thori caught his hand in his. Fingers curling around Thori’s in return, Njord stared down at their joined hands.
“Thank you,” Thori mumbled, swaying closer.
“Thori—”
Heavy footsteps echoed from the main room, and Njord leapt up, throwing on a robe and striding toward the door. He opened it to reveal Gylfa along with several of her warriors.
“My lord?! The guards failed to report unusual activity, but Skalmold told me to check on you.”
Her brisk steps faltered as she took in the carnage that was her chieftain’s sleeping chambers.
“We were attacked by n?kken,” Njord stated the obvious. “Double the guards and search every level of the fortress. If there are more of these creatures, I want them dealt with.”
“At once, my lord.”
Gylfa quickly hid her surprise, but Thori couldn’t help feeling a little schadenfreude at her expense.
Njord’s guards had done a poor job of eliminating the threat to their chieftain.
Thori couldn’t imagine it was a coincidence that the n?kken had stalked them yesterday after their visit to the tavern, and now they’d breached the safest place in the whole fortress.
He stared at the water dripping from the creatures’ ugly remains, leaving puddles on the limestone floor.
And suddenly he couldn’t take his gaze away from the claws, the sharp, shellfish teeth.
If Njord hadn’t dragged him back to the fortress, Thori would’ve jumped into the water to be drowned and probably eaten.
Bile rose in his throat, and a small, distressed sound slipped past his lips.
Njord’s focus was back on him immediately.
“You’re going back to bed. Now.”
“I don’t need to rest. It’s just a scratch,” Thori declared, jumping at the distraction. Anything to avoid thinking about the dreadful n?kken and the alluring curve of Njord’s lips.
Njord shot him a withering look.
“You’ll see a healer.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“I’m sure of that. But I’d prefer you not bleeding all over my bed.”
Gylfa appeared next to them with bandages and more supplies, eagerly offering them to Njord.
“Shall I dress your thrall’s wounds, my lord?”
“Yes. And then you need to fetch Skalmold. I want the war council to convene in the tactics room.”
“Yes, my lord.”
She crouched down in front of Thori.
“May I have a look?”
Her eagerness to please Njord irked Thori, but he shifted to offer his shoulder for inspection, nonetheless.
“A few of these need stitches. I can do it myself, or I can send for my husband. He’s a healer.”
“Do it. No need to wake your husband.”
She smiled at him.
“Good.”
Her treatment hurt only half as much as Thori would’ve expected. She stitched his wounds with surprising skill, her touch gentle.
“Do you know where the n?kken came from?” Gylfa asked.
“The balcony would be my best guess, but when I woke, they were already inside.”
“Hel’s tits.” She seemed genuinely upset. “I botched this. I should’ve considered posting guards outside.”
“Don’t be silly,” Thori said between clenched teeth as she applied a herbal salve on top of the tincture Njord had used and started to bandage his wounds.
“The balcony is how high? 300 feet above the sea? Plus, the walls of the keep should have provided extra protection. Who’d expected something to make its way up here? ”
He had no intention of comforting her. He didn’t even like her, with her exaggerated admiration for Njord. But he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself.
Gylfa frowned.