2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
“The Kraken are determined to destroy us.”
Toran Balthair Lir, King of the Each Uisge, glowered at the head of his council. “I’m well aware. I’ve made arrangements to thwart their plans.”
“And what would those be, Your Majesty?”
The tone adopted by the newly minted druid was slightly derisive.
“I’ve sent ravens to the Berserker Chief of the Far North, Ranulf of the White Wave.
I would end our enmity and make him my ally because I was recently made aware he has a daughter of marriageable age.
He has many ships and hundreds, if not thousands, of warriors.
His daughter will become both my bride and a hostage of sorts to ensure his good will. ”
The druids exchanged a look, and the one who'd been scoffing a moment ago leaned forward. “Your Majesty, I fear your sources have misled you.”
Toran leaned back and crossed his arms. “Go on, tell me why you think this is not a solution to our problems.”
“Well, his daughter may be of marriageable age, but she is not what we would deem a suitable prospect. If you do not find the creature who is your soulmate, and exchange sigils, your line will end.”
He didn’t openly contradict the man’s conclusion, but he raised his brow to refute it.
The head brehon crossed his wrists and shook his head.
“Brunhild Ranulfsdottir is a shieldmaiden. And by all accounts that have come to our ears, she is a savage one. She leads her own fleet of ships - full of women who are just as savage as she is. The gods would never mock us by declaring her your mate.”
Toran had heard the rumors too. And though he didn’t welcome more strife in his household, he saw no other remedy.
If she was as fierce as she was rumored to be, at least she was a warrior of some prowess, and his kingdom was in desperate need of warriors of her ilk.
If he was to keep his kingdom safe from the invasion of the Kraken King and his horde, he must pursue this alliance.
“Her father sent a raven back this very morning. He has pledged his longships in our defense if I agree to this union, and I cannot afford to refuse him. I have already readied the coffers I will deliver, and who is to say this shield maiden and I won’t grow affection for one another? ”
“Your majesty, you cannot mean to go through with such a sacristy. The runes have given us no indication that she is your mate and her unworthiness of a union with the crown is obvious to anyone who has heard of her deeds. She is clearly not your soulmate and it will be an infertile union.”
“There are others who can inherit my throne. I don’t need a soulmate, I need an alliance.”
“Never in the history of our kingdom has someone not of the king’s direct line inherited.
When you defeated the Kraken in battle the first time five hundred years ago, and your father stepped away from the throne and handed it to you, he did so with the intention that you would carry on his line.
He and your mother may no longer be involved in court politics, but they wouldn’t approve of changing the line of succession.
You owe your kingdom heirs that aren’t tainted by this woman’s bloodlust and madness, and I am counseling you against this alliance.
She is bloodthirsty, and you shall meet your end at the point of her sword, or hacked into pieces by her battle ax,” the lead brehon warned.
“Her father assured me she would fulfill the terms of his oath, and if our union is unfruitful, my brother will inherit my throne. He is still of my father’s blood."
The lead brehon scoffed in disbelief. “Your brother already defies you at every turn, and who is to say he will not do all in his power to hasten your departure? And we have all heard the tales of Ranulf Berserker and his kind. They do not keep their oaths. The burned out villages on the mainland have fallen to his horde because they believed his falsehoods.”
Toran grew impatient with his advisors’ protests. “I did not come before the council to seek its blessing, I am merely here to disclose my intentions. This alliance will happen despite your warnings."
Against the advice of his druidic council, Toran had set sail for the North Sea. It had been a stormy crossing and when they finally made landfall, all he wanted was a soft pallet to lay his head upon and a quaff of mead to stave off his thirst.
When he and his crew anchored in his former enemy’s harbor, there was a show of arms. A marauder skiff with a dragonhead was moored beside him, its mast and planks overflowing with fierce, painted women who held knives in their teeth.
One of the women stood a head taller than the rest, her body loose and long-limbed with the ease of a predator.
The braids tossed by the wind were decorated with dark feathers and she wore a mask of kohl or black mud around her eyes.
Toran knew in that moment that every single story his council had recited about the women of this kingdom was true.
The tall woman kept her hand on the hilt of her sword and her gaze on his.
“I do not want this union.”
So this was his betrothed. Instead of disembarking, he strode to the stern of his own boat to face her. “Believe me, shield maiden, this is not the path I would have chosen if I was left with any other choice. I have no desire to invite a poisonous serpent into my bedchamber.”
The woman at her side gasped at his slur, but his betrothed simply shrugged.
“And I have no desire to welcome an eel covered in seaweed between my thighs.
I am Brunhild Ranulfsdottir, but I am also daughter of Freydis, the Shield Maiden of Inisgolf, and granddaughter thirteen times removed of the goddess Freyja.
I am born of fire and fury. I've come to tell you my terms, and they are not those of my father.”
Toran suspected her arrogance was nothing more than false bravado.
“And I am Toran Balthazar Lir. Beloved descendant of the mighty sea gods and the ruler of the last island kingdom still resisting the Kraken. If I am to continue doing so, I need your father’s fleet.
You are nothing more than the price I was forced to pay to get it. ”
“I will never bear your sons,” she haughtily informed him.
Toran snorted. “As if I want a whelp born of your traitorous womb. But that too, is the price I must pay. Your father wants a grandson who is half each-uisge and half berserker clan to sit on my throne one day. I care not if you do nothing more than lie there whilst I plow your fields. For both our sakes, I pray our union bears fruit.”
She surged forward, as if she were going to leap across the water. If he’d been within reach there would’ve been a knife at his throat.
“Then my father is a fool and so are you. I am the daughter of my father’s dead concubine and the berserker blood does not flow through my veins. I do not turn blood and battle mad like my brothers, instead it is my skill and my devotion to Freya that make me invincible in battle.”
“I’d wager you’re wrong because there’s a reason they call you the Cut-Throat Maiden and the Bringer of Fire.”
She beamed. Pleased. “I am truly called those things? My reputation is even more fearsome than I thought.”
“They aren’t compliments. They’re epithets. Things people cry out when death is upon them at your hands. Things survivors, if you leave any, weep into their ale about.”
The smile faded and she crossed her arms over her chest with a stony gaze. “If your opinion of me is so ghastly low, why do you bother with this bargain?”
“I need your father’s ships to keep my people safe. Lying down in a bed of thorns is the price I must pay for that luxury.”
She sneered at him from across the water. “A bed of thorns is better than a bed of useless petals. Like all spoiled warriors to the south, you likely sleep on a soft byre to soothe your imaginary aches and pains.”
Toran wanted to tell her that his aches and pains weren’t imaginary and he was far from useless.
He’d been keeping the Kraken and his other enemies from breaching his defenses for more than four hundred years.
He knew that this shield maiden would toss her head and scoff at his explanation, because like the icy cliffs of the fjord behind them, she was hewn from something impermeable.
“We’ll discuss the terms of our bargain after I speak with your father.”
“Fine. Speak with my father. Know that whatever terms he gives you are not of my making. Nor will I honor them.”
“What will you honor, Shield Maiden? It is well known beyond the boundaries of your village that the Berserker clan have no honor.”
She shot forward and if the woman beside her hadn’t laid a hand on her arm to restrain her, she'd likely have severed his head from his neck.
“No one insults my honor, each uisge slime. Temper your tongue,” she snarled.
Inciting her further would do his kingdom no good, so he gave her a slight bow and turned on his heel.
His shoulders were tense from the moment he disembarked until he was handing his sword to the guard at the door of the chieftain’s home.
He breathed a sigh of relief when he made it all the way to his destination without her axe lodging itself in his skull.
Ranulf, who styled himself the Berserker King, was sprawled on a dais of furs. Two half-naked women were feeding him what appeared to be salted herring, and a third woman was rubbing her hands up and down his shoulders, oiling them.
It was the picture of decadence that Toran himself eschewed. He despised the trappings of power that came with his station and avoided them whenever possible.
Ranulf looked him up and down and guffawed. “Ye smell like the horse ye claim to be. I’d be offended by your unkempt appearance but I know you Keltoi stand on less ceremony than we do.”
“I heeded your summons as soon as I received it and I’ve brought what you requested. I am ready to honor the bargain you propose and take your daughter to wife if you’ll lend your fleet to my aid.”
The man straightened and glowered at Toran. “I’ll see the gold first. I’ll agree to nothing until I’m sure it’s real.”
“Fine,” Toran said as he waved his men forward. They set the two chests he’d brought on the floor and stepped back. Toran crossed his arms and stood his ground. He wouldn’t be intimidated into receiving less than what he’d been promised.
When Ranulf realized his intimidation tactics wouldn’t work, he leaned back with another bellow of laughter. “My spies told me you had a heart of iron, each uisge. I see they did not exaggerate. You’ll need your fortitude to keep my bloodthirsty daughter from cutting your throat whilst you sleep.”
The portrait of his intended bride, teeth bared in a snarl, ready to leap across the bow of her ship, flashed through his thoughts. “I met my bride at the harbor.”
The berserker chief’s brow rose at that. “She should not have been there. She was instructed to remain in her chambers until she was summoned for the ceremony. It will take place tomorrow at dusk - here in the great hall.”
“I have brought my brehon so that the customs of my people may be observed as well.”
“You’ll carve your sigil on her?” One of the men at the king’s side spoke up. Presumably the son and heir.
“The union is not valid unless she receives the sigil. Not in the eyes of our gods.”
The man harrumphed. “Our sister is likely to spit in your face when you propose it.”
Toran shrugged. “If she refuses the sigil, the bargain itself is done and I will demand the return of the bride price.”
The king guffawed. “Oh, I’d like to see you try to reclaim her mundr.”
“I paid her mundr in exchange for your ships. If she refuses the sigil, it means her loyalty is questionable. If I cannot trust my bride, I demand the return of the not insignificant fortune I’ve provided you with.”
Rannulf’s expression darkened. “I will ensure she submits to the union and the ceremony it requires. Even if I must strip her back bloody with my whip.”
Among Toran’s kind, even disobedient children were seldom whipped. He inwardly recoiled at the thought of the fierce woman he’d met at the docks having her spirit broken in such a way. “I will converse with her if I must.”
“There is a feast tonight, but she rarely deigns to attend. You’ll find her in a lodge on the edge of the village with a black fire rune etched into the door.”
“It would be wise to seek her out,” one of the sons interjected as he swallowed nervously while looking askance at his father.
“I shall take my leave and do just that," Toran said with a curt bow and turned on his heel.