She would have.
If his heart, his body, and his soul did not belong to Mia.
Hakon had stood alone on the shore of the fjord after Mia had left him, as weak as a sail robbed of wind. It had already been night when he’d gone back to the mead hall, thunderstruck, not seeing where he was going. And somehow, just as he was about to open the gates to the hall, his feet had carried him to his horse. He’d straddled him and flown after Mia. How could he have let her go alone into the woods? She might be in danger from wolves or the bear.
He was not ready to let her go, not ready to lose her. That could not have been the last time he ever saw her. The possibility hit him like a falling mountain.
But when he got to the sacred grove, she was nowhere to be seen. There were barely visible imprints in the soil and freshly pressed grass. He looked around for her, for any signs of an animal attack or of her hiding somewhere in case she changed her mind. But she was truly gone.
And now, in her place, was another. A beautiful woman who wanted him.
A beautiful woman he did not want.
A beautiful woman who was not Mia.
“Anything you would like me to,” he finally answered. He had to make sure she gave King Nyr the impression that she was content.
Arinborg bit her full lip, a gesture that would have brought blood to his loins before. She shifted slightly towards him so that her breasts touched his arm, and he had to stop himself before he flinched.
Would he live like that the rest of his life? Pretending to like her when he could only think of Mia?
The thought made his whole body hurt.
He reminded himself that it was all for his goal, to get revenge on Nyr. And what happened after did not matter.
But if he was honest with himself, he did not believe that anymore.
The longship arrived and docked, and King Nyr descended. Rich furs framed his shoulders, gold and silver on his neck. His face was impassive, studying Hakon and Arinborg.
“Happy and healthy, Daughter, Son,” Nyr said in way of greeting, and Hakon suppressed the urge to throw himself at the man and tear him apart.
“Happy and healthy, Father,” said Arinborg, and Nyr nodded and looked at Hakon, expecting a welcome.
Hakon let a breath out. He had to win a bit more time. Then he would finish him. That was the agreement he had come to with his allies—Hakon would invite Nyr to visit his daughter, and then kill him while the other jarls were raiding his borg.
“Welcome.” He gestured to the village and let Nyr pass first, joining him at the king’s left shoulder.
“I trust all went well with your wedding?” Nyr said.
Arinborg, who walked to his right side, said, “We are not married yet, Father.”
Nyr stopped at the border of the wooden pier and the rocky shore. “What?”
His eyes flickered between Hakon and Arinborg.
“Do not tell me you do not want him!” he thundered at Arinborg.
“I do.” She blushed and looked down.
“Then why?”
“I fell and cut my ankle open on a slippery rock in a brook on the way to Lomdalen. I got a rot-wound and had to stay in a village until it healed. I was delirious and weak, so I could not send a messenger. I only arrived a week ago.”
Nyr turned towards the village and walked on, and everyone followed. “I need a horn of mead. In Odin’s name, you should have just wed as soon as you arrived. Why did you not?”
Arinborg pursed her lips and said nothing. So Hakon answered. “Because I was married to someone who had identified herself as your daughter. And Arinborg was not sure if she wanted to marry me after that. But I convinced her.”
Nyr spun, his fur cloak flying around him. “What?”
“It was an imposter, Father. She is gone.”
“You married an imposter?” Nyr yelled. “How could you do that? Are you that stupid, Hakon? No, you are not. It is still your curse that attracts all sorts of bad luck, is it not, Beast?”
Hakon growled.
The insult hit him right where it hurt. Rage rose in him like a wave of fire, and his sword was in his hand.
That was it.
With a movement as light as a feather, the edge of the sword pointed right at Nyr’s throat. Nyr’s eyes widened in surprise, Arinborg gasped, and Nyr’s and Hakon’s men drew their weapons.
“What are you doing, fool?” Nyr spat.
Fury still roaring in Hakon, revenge tasted sweet at the tip of his sword. Finally, the moment had come.
“Something I have wanted to do ever since my father told me the truth. Kill the worm that poisoned everything.”
As he said the word “poison,” Mia’s words came to mind. You are drinking the poison of revenge, and you don’t even realize that you are the one dying.
Hakon’s grip weakened. He could kill the man now. Just a slight pressure on his sword would do it.
But what next?
Most likely, Hakon would die fighting. His men would die, too, along with the women and children of his village. After all that Mia had done to keep them alive.
And he would not be able to help Mia and her baby.
He would truly drink the poison. It was not sweet. It was bitter. And he did not want to do this anymore. His mother had died sacrificing her life out of love for him. He was not cursed.
He was blessed.
If he were to do this, kill King Nyr now, that sacrifice would be in vain, and he would turn that blessing into a curse with his own hands.
Because he was wrong about his purpose. He had thought revenge would bring back that happiness, that love he had felt when his mother was alive. But now he saw that revenge would not bring him any of that.
Mia did.
And now she was in terrible danger.
Maybe he was a beast, but Mia had healed him, repaired the wound to his soul. And now he needed to save the woman he loved from a true monster.
Hakon said, “But I won’t do it.”
He withdrew the sword, but still held it so that Nyr would not think to move against him. Hakon backed towards the woods.
“Do not think to attack the village, Nyr,” he said.
“Ah, what shall stop me?”
“My allies are sieging your borg right now.”
Nyr’s face paled. “What?”
“It was a diversion, agreeing to marry Arinborg, while I made an alliance with three other jarls to kill you. They will stop your expansion, take your lands, and one of them will be the next king. You’d better hurry back home, save whatever you can.”
He had not planned to tell Nyr that. But it was the only way to prevent him and his warriors from attacking the village. And Hakon knew Nyr would arrive too late to stop his allies even if he left now.
“So what will it be, Nyr? Fight us and lose your kingdom and your life, or go back and try to save both?”
Nyr snarled and gestured for his men to go back to the ship. He hurried there with long strides.
“Father! What about me?” Arinborg cried.
“You have done enough!” Nyr stopped and looked back at her. “You failed the only task that your life is worthy of.”
Then he ran to the ship.
“You will not be harmed here,” Hakon said. “Stay as long as you wish. But I will not marry you. I love someone else.”
He found Torfi. “I am leaving to recover Mia, the healer who saved your wife and daughter from the coughing disease. I do not know if or when I will return. You are in charge in my stead. If I do not return, consider yourself the next jarl.”
He squeezed the man’s shoulder. Torfi nodded, solemn.
Hakon ran to the great hall where he took his ax and his shield, and then he ran towards the woods, towards the rock with runes, towards the woman he loved more than life itself.
Chapter Twenty-One
Boston, September 5, 2019
Darkness surrounded Hakon. Or maybe he was the darkness. When he’d placed his hands on the r
ough surface, he had felt as if the rock was sucking him into Helheim, spinning him like a spindle, and then he had stopped existing.
He was born again, except he could not see. When was the “then” and when was the “now”? He did not know.
Finally, he emerged. First, he noticed the strange smell. Something acrid, as if whale oil had been burned for a long time. Nothing that smelled of trees or grass or earth. Then, he noticed the sound of water splashing against wood and rocks—something he would recognize anywhere. And there was a deep rumbling, as if a thousand small thunder storms were rolling back and forth. Screeching, voices, and music made his head pound.
Then his vision returned, and the light blinded him. It was warm. Hot. The ground under his shoes radiated heat like an oven. The air carried the humidity of the sea.
He was sitting. His fingertips felt the surface of smooth, warm wood. When his eyes got used to the light, he jumped up, his hand on the handle of the ax.
Everywhere around him were stone houses. Perfectly square, dark red, as tall as mountains. There were square glass windows of such transparency that it seemed there was nothing there at all. He was standing on ground that consisted of smooth stones of equal size. It seemed, everything around him was stone.
In front of him was a square harbor, and in it, several docks and many, many ships. They were made of something that resembled white iron. Many of them had no masts and looked like giant birds’ beaks.
Odin, Allfather, Mia had spoken true. She was from the future.
And now Hakon was in it.
The world after Ragnarok.
His breath rushing in and out, he looked around himself for danger, for any warriors that would see him as an intruder, any beasts that would want to attack. He kept his hand on the handle of the ax in warning. He did not take the weapon in his hand—he wanted to show that he came in peace. He came for his woman.
People were passing by, sitting on benches with backs that were facing the water. Hakon had never been in such heat as this, and he did not question why women wore such short trousers and skirts, their legs bare. Their tunics were tight around their bosoms and waists. Men wore short pants to the knee, or above, light tunics with sleeves that ended at their shoulders, and shoes that seemed to only have soles and thin straps that went between or over the toes.
No one seemed to be disturbed by him, so he straightened, let his hand loosen, and looked around trying to understand how he could find Mia.
People stared at him as they were passing by. One man who had his arm around a woman’s shoulders said with a chuckle, “Cool costume, bro.”
Hakon stared back and scowled. He had no idea what the meaning of the phrase was. He only understood that something about him seemed cold to the man, and based on his chuckle, he approved of it. Hakon was not surprised, he would approve of anything cold in this heat, too.
People who sat on the benches looked at black squares in their hands, and some passersby pointed them at Hakon. Sensing danger, he took his ax out, ready for an attack, but no one launched at him. On the contrary, people were relaxed, discussing something while looking at him. Some of them were smiling. They held the strange objects not as weapons, with sharp edges pointed at him, but rather as shields, flat side towards him. They looked greatly entertained.
He must look strange to them, with his wolf cloak, his baggy pants, and his long linen tunic.
Or maybe their amusement had something to do with his coolness.
No matter. He had not come for them. He had come for Mia.
If Dan had her, he needed to find him first. But where? His mouth went as dry as the hot rocks he was standing on. Worry flipped in his gut like a deep-water fish.
Then he remembered something Mia said—Dan had named a boat after her. He even ran his affairs from there. Perhaps like a king in his stronghold, Hakon thought.
Hakon had to find a boat called Mia.
He looked around the harbor. How would he know what the boat was called?
But then he saw strange runes on the ships. And he understood what they said. Joy. Adrianna. Sunset. Emily. Boston.
Boston! Mia had mentioned this was where she lived. This was the right place.
He turned around and saw an old man with a bald head, circles of glass on his nose, studying him carefully.
“Good man!” Hakon said, and slammed his mouth shut. He was speaking a foreign language. The feeling of his jaw muscles and tongue moving in a different way was like putting on someone else’s armor. It did not quite fit. Was it like this for Mia when she spoke his tongue?
He returned his attention to the man in front of him. “Where can I find a boat called Mia?”
The man took a small step back, his eyes wide, and held his hands up. “I have no money on me. I can’t give you money for your performance.”
Hakon scowled. “I do not need your money. Tell me where to find Mia.”
He glanced to Hakon’s left and pointed at something. “Isn’t that Mia?”
Hakon’s gut jumped, and he followed the direction the man was pointing, hoping maybe by some miracle Mia herself would be standing there. But she wasn’t. Behind the tallest and thickest longhouse he had ever seen, made out of the same dark-red bricks as the rest of them, there was another harbor like this one. There, he saw the smooth white stern of a giant boat. And on the side were three runes: M I A.
The Norn’s magic in the stone had sent him to the right place. The fury that had always been his friend on the battlefield began simmering in his blood.
He left the man and walked along the stone quay. The roaring grew louder, and between the giant houses he saw something that made him stop dead. Iron carriages with roofs were driving on their own at a speed that even a horse could not manage. What was this strange magic?
Hakon clenched his jaw. He was a warrior. He had looked death in the eye countless times, and yet all these things he could not explain put bone-deep fear in him.
That was what it must have been like for Mia, to arrive in his world, no explanation, no reason for it, not knowing where she was, if the next person she saw was friend or foe. And she was with child. So he must have terrified her when he had swept in and thrown her onto his horse and then told her she was there to marry him.
And then she had thought to stay.
She must really love him.
Hakon sped up. The boat Mia was the only thing he saw, no number of miraculous carts, houses with windows, or boats without masts and sails could distract him from getting her back. Especially if she needed help.
He went through an iron gate with runes spelling “Marina” on top, down an iron ramp and onto the wooden docks where many other boats were docked. He sped towards the boat at the very end.
There was a small ramp leading onboard, and as soon as he stepped on it, a man in a thin black jacket and black trousers appeared from the doorway. Unarmed, as far as Hakon could see.
“Who are you?” the man demanded.
He must be a guard. Hakon knew that if they had boats of iron and fast-moving carts, most likely their weapons would be as surprising and as efficient. He had to be careful.
“I am cool, bro,” he said, and the words were like magic. A surprised smile touched the man’s face and he looked Hakon up and down, relaxing a little. People from the future did appreciate the cold.
“Yeah?” the man said. “Is boss waitin’ for ye or somethin’? Did Mia hire an entertainer? She’s been readin’ a lot about Vikings ever since we found her.”
Hakon clenched his fists and a low growl escaped his throat. His face must have changed because the guard frowned, careful.
“Gettin’ in the role, I see. Hold on, I’ll ask the boss.”
“No need, bro. They will want to be surprised,” Hakon said.
“Nah. Hold on. Hey, Mia!” he yelled. “Mia!”
“What is it, Carl?” Hakon heard a muffled male voice from inside.
“Boss? Did she hire a Viking actor?”
&n
bsp; “Very funny!” Mia’s voice this time, and Hakon’s heart began thumping like it had not since she left him.
“He’s here—if you did.”
“What?”
“He’s here, the Viking! Lookin’ real. Should I let him in?”
Hakon heard steps, metallic bangs. Then her face appeared out of the entrance to what looked like a small house on the boat. His breath caught in his gut, the world faded, and all he could see was her. That was it. He knew now why the Norn had sent her to him through more than a thousand years.
Because she was a healer, and the parts of his heart, of his soul, that were broken, lonely, and rejected began healing into one whole.
If he died today defending her, or if she rejected him, it was all worth it just to see her for one moment.
Mia’s eyes widened in shock as they met his, then he saw tenderness, then fear. She glanced down into the ship. “I’ll be right back, Dan!” she said, then emerged.
She was in a floating, dancing, light dress—something similar to what she had been wearing when he had found her by the rune rock. Her belly had grown slightly, and she looked beautiful and gentle. Hakon wanted to take her in his arms and bury his face in her hair.
She walked towards him. “It’s all right, Carl,” she said.
“Who is it, Mia?” a male voice rang from somewhere inside the boat, then Hakon heard footsteps.
“Come behind me, Mia,” Hakon said, stretching his arm out, even though she was still on the boat and had not even passed Carl.
Carl, probably sensing something was wrong, put one hand into the opening of his jacket, and Hakon dropped his hand onto the handle of his ax.
A man appeared from behind Mia, and everything stood still. He was wearing a similar jacket and pants to Carl, but gray. He was tall, dark haired, and behind the mask of polite hospitality, danger glared at Hakon.
He had seen that look in the eyes of rare men. He had seen it in Nyr’s eyes.
The eyes of a man who would stop at nothing to get what he wanted.
They fell on Hakon, and a muscle on Hakon’s cheek jerked. He gripped the ax.
The Marriage of Time: Called by a Viking series Book Three Page 12
