Merciful Salvation (Heart of a Viking #3)

Prologue

Aaron McNally stood at the center of the weathered stones representing the nine worlds of the gods of Norsemen.

Legends held that Norwegian kings prostrated themselves before Odin on this consecrated ground before going into battle.

The ancient place reeked of wet earth and death.

Inches of snow covered the ground and a bitter wind howled across the clearing.

Ravens circled overhead, two landing on the closest stones.

The nearest one cried out. Aaron swore he heard the creature utter, fool, fool.

Perhaps he was.

He wore nothing but leather breeches and boots. His skin stung from prolonged exposure. He gritted his teeth. This hardship must be endured to purge the White Christ from his body. Christians burned heretics, while Odin’s children relied on fire and ice for ritualistic purification—not death.

A true Christian wouldn’t beg for Odin’s mercy and protection. But Aaron’s heart had never been fully invested in the Church.

“Asgard, Vanaheim, Alfheim, Midgard, Jotunheim, Nidavellir, Svartalfheim, Hel, and Niflheim.” He spoke each name reverently, pledging fealty.

A hermit priest resided in a hovel built between the sixth and seventh stones—a great prophet to some, an executioner to others. His long white beard and hunched back revealed his age and wisdom. “Kneel,” he commanded, while he anointed Aaron’s head with fragment oil poured out from a ram’s horn.

Aaron obeyed. Two days after he’d been exiled from his cousin’s lands for betrayal, he realized salvation could only be attained through conversion.

The sacraments had failed to keep him undefiled.

His soul had grown blacker every day, his heart cold as stone.

Envy and strife had dominated his life for far too long.

The priest continued, “Renounce the day of your birth and reject the water of baptism. Embrace fire and ice, the foundations of Allfather’s universe. Believe only in those things that draw you to his breast: strength, ferocity, magnitude, bravery, loyalty, victory, honesty, passion, and love.”

Aaron’s heart thundered as he focused on the horizon.

He blocked out the sound of the priest’s voice and anything else that interfered with his thoughts.

He found comfort in the silence. Then, an indescribable sensation shot through him.

Not pain, but it left him numb and speechless.

The holy man whispered something in a language he didn’t understand.

His gaze followed the priest’s movements.

He’d been counseled that Odin would make himself known to a true repentant.

Something warmed his blood. Perhaps Allfather’s acceptance of a new servant.

Once the priest completed his incantations, he retrieved two gold coins from his tunic, then handed them to Aaron. He closed his fist tightly around them.

“Remember Odin’s generosity. You no longer belong to the White Christ. You are a son of Norway now. Someday, when you least expect it, that gold will buy your freedom. This is Odin’s message—Allfather protects his own.”

This was the moment he’d waited for? Days in the cold?

Hours of isolation and mental fatigue? Aaron cursed under his breath.

Numb from head to toe, he stood up, then scanned the ground.

Bundles of hay ringed the stones. He watched the priest limp to a small fire pit, then light the torch he held.

Next, he walked to the closest bail and touched the flame to it.

He repeated this action eight more times.

As the flames leaped up, Aaron deposited his coins into a small compartment in his weapon belt, then unsheathed his knife. He awaited further instruction.

“Ett d?dsfall—en f?dsel. Et liv for et liv. Borte er de dagene av feighet din. I dag ser du en ny verden. Odins verden. Der menn er f?dt og d? for ? forherlige hans navn. Leve godt, d? aerefullt,” the priest called.

One death—a birth. A life for a life. Gone are the days of your cowardice. Today you see a new world. Odin’s world. Where men are born and die to glorify his name. Live well, die honorably.

“Live well, die honorably,” Aaron repeated. Words no Christian priest had ever spoken to him. Could a man really shed his old life and be reborn? Whatever god he kneeled to, Aaron needed to believe in something, someone.

And perhaps for the first time in his life, he did. At the holy man’s signal, Aaron slit his wrist. The final step to absolution was shedding his own blood on sacred ground. He kneeled again.

The priest approached. “Rise now, son of Odin.”

Although the world didn’t look different, Aaron’s heart felt different.

A trick his mind played? Fatigue? Or genuine transformation?

Then he remembered something. A silver cross hung around his neck.

A gift from his deceased father, it meant nothing now.

He ripped the chain off. Not permitted to offer animal sacrifices until the new moon, he’d give this instead.

He stalked to the nearest fire and tossed it in.

A life for a life. Aaron stared at the flames.