The Northmen Series Box Set

by T S Florence

Skald darted to the left, ducked his head, moving with such speed and grace that caused Freya’s breath to catch in her throat. It was like watching a child swinging a toy axe against a great warlord, a master of the sword. Skald moved back, and kicked his leg out, connecting with Gregors chest, sending him backwards three steps. Another great howl erupted from Gregor, a mix of pain and anger, his heavily scarred face blotched red with fury, the scars on his lips resulting in a terrifying grin that contradicted his menacing howls.

  He charged forwards, swinging so hard that a blow would cut a man in half from head to toe. Skald stepped to the right and cut hard behind his leg, bringing him to his knee. Gregor attempted to stand but collapsed back down onto one knee. Gregor swung again, still striking with all the strength he had left, but he was too slow. Skald cut at his elbow, causing his arm to drop to his side, the axe now barely usable in his left hand.

  Skald darted forward, kicking into Gregors chest, bringing him onto his back. He stood on top of Gregor, looking into his eyes as he plunged the sword downwards through his nose. A sickening sound of metal cutting through meat and bone came from his head, as Skald pushed down, before bringing the sword back out, wiping the blood from the blade onto Gregor’s clothes, and sheathed his sword with a calmness that left Freya feeling speechless. Ragnar was now by Skald’s side, searching the men with him. They spoke in hushed tones as they dragged the bodies off the path.

  They searched both men, pulling out great bags of gold from their belongings, and left the rest. Freya looked at Jack, the look of awe on his face at the display of sheer domination that Skald had just exerted over two great warlords was a story that they would never have believed if they had not just witnessed it.

  Skald

  Skald mounted his horse, and they headed again towards the end of the valley. Skald could almost feel the grip of the Mackenzie clan tightening around his freedom as they rode on. He was almost sure that they would have gotten ahead of them by now.

  Freya’s body shook between his arms, which surprised him, due to her fame as a great valkyrie shield maiden. He sensed that due to her recent losses, she had been forced to shed some of her valkyrie identity and become the girl she had been before her rise to fame as a leader of men and a great bow kona. But Skald would do something for her. He would help her resume that status as a great bow kona, for that was a part of her identity, that much he could see.

  Skald rode at the front of the pack now, with Ragnar and Jack following closely behind. The feel of Freya’s bottom sliding backwards into him as the horse trotted up the hill caused him to harden, which he was sure she would be able to feel, pressing into her.

  He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her harder against him, causing her behind to press harder into him. Skald could feel something was not right as they crested the top of the valley. Tension filled the air, mingling with the dark fog.

  “Remember, break free and go to Newcastle if we are pursued,” Skald said to Ragnar.

  “I will have Ivar bring down his forces and we will erase every MacKenzie from Scotland, if need be” Ragnar said, smiling at Skald.

  Skald’s intuition proved to be correct, as a line of Mackenzies poured out from the nearby woodland, all of them armed, and some of them playing their famous bag pipes. “Ride,” Skald growled, as they began to take off, galloping hard through the long grass.

  Another group of Mackenzies came from the front, causing them to be routed to the left. “Go around them,” Skald said as he pulled hard on his reins. Another group of men leaped out from the long grass, surprising them, causing Skald and Freya to be routed to the left, while Ragnar and Jack were forced to go right.

  Skald turned rode hard, going back along the cliffside of the valley, this time riding along its ridge, rather than down below. He turned back to see Ragnar and Jack successfully navigating through the encroaching Mackenzies, to narrowly make it through, and take off at a blistering pace towards freedom.

  Freya

  Arrows rained down around them as they galloped as fast as the powerful black horse could go. The shrieking of the Scots caused her heart to explode in her chest, in a repetition of thundering beats, making her feel dizzy from he excitement and fear. She would have feared falling from the horse due to the dizziness if it weren’t for Skald’s iron grip around her body, keeping her so tight against him that she found it hard to breathe.

  “Are they chasing us,” Freya’s voice came out shaky, as she gripped Skald’s arm.

  “Yes, but not quickly. They know we cannot go back to England without going back past them. They will begin to sweep the lands again, until they find us.

  “So what do we do?” Freya asked, realising her desperation to live had returned, her melancholy view of life, in its shades of greys, had retreated, as if Skald’s presence had scared the sadness away.

  “Don’t worry, valkyrie, you are safe with me,” Skald said.

  She felt his lips press against her neck, the warmth taking her by surprise.

  They rode hard, for all hours of the day, until night began to fall on them, they turned onto a quiet, barely visible path, that wound between hills. To Freya’s surprise, there was an abandoned cottage hidden away in a thicket of trees.

  “We will camp here tonight,” Skald said, looking into the sky, “the fog will return, which will protect us from the Mackenzies.”

  Freya noticed that Skald was walking with a limp after she had dismounted from the horse.

  “What happened to your leg?” Freya asked, looking at him.

  “An arrow got me in the leg when we lost Ragnar and Jack,” Skald said, his impassive expression not betraying his feeling on the situation.

  “And you didn’t say anything?” Freya said, annoyed that he had ridden all day with the injury.

  She walked over to him and looked at his leg, where the shaft of the arrow, which had been snapped, was still in his leg.

  “You snapped it yourself?” Freya asked.

  “Well the gods didn’t snap it for me,” Skald replied.

  “Inside, now. I’m taking this out,” Freya said, pushing him towards the cottage.

  Skald

  The cottage looked as if nobody had set foot in there for months, though there were still two chairs, a stove for cooking, and a place to lie down. Skald guessed that two old people had lived here until they could no longer hunt and gather for themselves, forcing them to move closer to a township.

  “Skald, do you realise how stupid you were for leaving this in all day?” Freya asked, as she knelt before him, feeling the wound.

  “It was too dangerous to stop,” Skald said, enjoying the fact that she cared, knowing that no girl or woman had ever spoken to him like this, for fear of his reaction. Although Skald was known as Skald the heartless, he knew he was not a mean person. The fact was that he had never learned to recover from the loss of his mother and father.

  She grabbed the wooden shaft of the arrow and tugged at it gently. Usually, pain felt good, because it reminded Skald he could feel. But now, the pain felt too real. It was as if the emotion that was bubbling beneath the surface of his frozen heart was reacting to her physical touch.

  “Just pull it out.” Skald said, gripping her arm.

  Freya looked up at him, her bright blue eyes showing hesitation. “Really?”

  “Yes, do it,” he said, trying to smile, but the effort felt unnatural and forced. How long has it been since I smiled? Skald thought back to his childhood. He remembered when his mother would play hide and seek with him, scaring him when she found his hiding spot, and tickling him.

  “You’re smiling,” Freya said to Skald, with an odd look on her face. “What is it about me pulling an arrow out of your leg is making you smile?” She asked.

  “Brought back memories,” Skald replied, dodging the question.

  “Memories of being shot by arrows?” Freya asked as she yanked the arrow, pulling the arrowhead out of his thigh.

  “Something like that,” Skald
said, wincing at the pain.

  “Hmm, well you felt that,” Freya said, observing his reaction.

  “I’ve been feeling a lot, lately,” Skald said, observing the blood pooling in the wound of his leg.

  “Why?” Freya asked.

  “Because of you, valkyrie,” Skald said.

  Freya giggled, “I’m no valkyrie. I’m not a goddess of death. I’m none of those things anymore.”

  “You’re just Freya,” Skald said looking at her.

  “And you’re just Skald,” Freya said, smiling at him.

  Skald limped to the bed and lay down. Freya left the cottage for a short while, and came back with some herbs from the surrounding forest and bandages that she had made from tearing strips off her skirt.

  “I could get used to this,” Skald said, smiling at her as she dressed his wound.

  “So could I, apart from the running for our lives bit,” Freya said.

  “Life is just surviving until you die,” Skald said, looking away.

  “Life is more than that, it’s about happens in between birth and death,” Freya said.

  “Like what?” Skald asked.

  “Like love, for instance,” Freya said, causing Skald’s mothers words to echo in his mind.

  You must search, my son. For love is the greatest thing a man and woman can have in life, more than any amount of gold and glory.

  Skald had found his love, now he just needed to fight to keep it, like his father did for his mother. And he knew that with the Mackenzies closing in on them, neither of them might ever have the chance to fully experience that love he had subconsciously yearned for his entire life.

  “Maybe you’re right,” Skald eyed her, as she tied off the bandage, “maybe we can test your theory,” he said, as he flipped her onto her back, and climbed on top of her, the pain in his leg numbing to a dull throb.

  Freya

  Freya felt his hardening shaft push between her legs. She felt like she was in a dream, though not like the bad dreams she’d been having in her sleep. This dream felt like she was enveloped in warm clouds, but the clouds were Skald.

  His normally cold gaze was now blazing like a great fire, his hands on her skin warmed her body, his breath caused tingles down her spine. She could feel his strength in his grip, as he grabbed her body. She pulled at his top, yanking it over his head, to reveal his hard, muscular body. Her breath was becoming raspy with desire, as she became wet with excitement. She could see the lust in his eyes, as he pulled down her skirt, revealing all of her nakedness.

  The knowledge that he was the first man to see her like this, ready and willing to accept him into her, felt so dirty, yet so right. She wanted to take all of him, taste all of him, until he had given her all of him.

  His strength made her forget her own weak and vulnerable state. She gasped as his fingers explored between her legs, while he sucked on her neck and ears, before coming back up and connecting his mouth with hers.

  She wrapped her hand around his member, her fingers unable to touch each other due to its thickness. She let out a small moan as he penetrated her with his fingers, feeling inside of her. She stroked him, it felt soft yet hard at the same time. The feeling of him in her hand made her even more wet, the initial pain of penetration replaced by a feeling of pleasure, making her moan for more.

  He had a bundle of her hair gripped in his hand, the light, dull throb, caused an ecstatic sensation throughout her body. He was groaning now, as she pumped her hand up and down his shaft, causing his tip became wet with desire.

  She pulled his face down to hers, taking his tongue in her mouth, enjoying his taste, as she bucked her hips to the rhythm of his fingers inside of her. She felt a building sensation that began down deep inside of her, and a light buzzing beginning in her head.

  She became so lost in the sensation that she could barely keep her eyes open, yet she kept moving her hand up and down his shaft, feeling the heat of it in her hand. She repeated the rhythm, her mind unable to command any different bodily movement, until the sensation became too much to bear. She began to moan louder, until finally her body exploded in ecstasy unlike anything she had ever felt before.

  She quivered under Skald, her hand gripping his shaft tight, as she felt warm ropes of his essence shoot over her stomach and breasts, his groans filled her with desire as his body shuddered on top of her. He collapsed beside her, breathing hard, as her body and mind buzzed with a feeling that she had never experienced before in her life. She looked at him, his hard, muscled body was slick with sweat, his chest rising and falling, and she could see his heart beating beneath his ribs.

  She rose and walked over to the bucket of water that she’d brought in to the cottage earlier, and cleaned herself, before crawling back into bed, beside him, finding sleep more easily than she had the night before.

  24

  Skald

  Skald awoke the next morning before Freya, and moved carefully to ensure he did not wake her. It was not yet light, so he knew they had a little time before they had to leave. He walked outside down to the nearby stream, submerging his head into the water to wash away the fog in his mind from the night’s sleep.

  He walked back and looked over the horse. He checked its hooves, which were still in good condition, despite the hard riding they had done. He cleaned them and filed the parts that were broken from hitting sharp pieces of rocks, making sure that they were sturdy for the riding they had ahead of them that day.

  He knew that if they rode hard enough, they could make it back to the Sutherland castle. Skald thought back to his words to their chieftain, Logan Sutherland, realising he could have worded his farewell a little better, rather than threatening the man with death, as he rode away on the chieftain’s horse.

  Freya was awake when Skald went back into the small cottage, fixing her dress and washing her face.

  “It’s nice here,” Freya looked up at him, patting her face dry with the hem of her dress.

  “Yes,” Skald said, more acknowledging the fact that it was nice here because of her, not because of the place itself.

  “I want to go somewhere quiet when this is all over,” Freya said to Skald.

  “We can go to my village, it’s small and quiet,” Skald said.

  “Where Magnus’ other friends live? His family?” Freya asked.

  “It was a battle, Freya, men die. You’re a viking, you know this,” he said, looking at her sad eyes.

  Skald closed the short distance between them with two strides, pulling her head against his stomach, just as much for his own comfort as for hers.

  “My father told me that when you find love, you must fight for it,” Skald said.

  “And you love me?” Freya asked.

  “I do. And I will marry you whether you want it or not,” Skald said, smiling at her.

  Freya’s concerned expression was immediately replaced by a confused smile, her normally sad blue eyes lit up like the sky on a summer day.

  “You’re different to other men,” Freya said, removing her face from his chest, as she stood up.

  “You’re also very different to what I expected,” Skald held Freya against his body.

  “How?” Freya asked.

  “I expected you to be a fierce valkyrie, with an army of men ready and willing to kill me should I attempt to come close to you,” Skald said, looking at her.

  “You and your leader killed most of my men, leaving the rest to be killed by highlanders,” Freya said, frowning at him.

  “I see that now,” Skald said.

  “I can be fierce,” Freya said, standing back, with her hands on her hips, “but I’m tired of it. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I’m tired of fighting,” She looked at the ground.

  “You do not need to fight, as long as you’re with me,” Skald said, taking her hands in his. “We must leave now. It’s becoming daylight outside, and the fog is clearing,” he continued.

  But it was already too late. When Skald stepped outside, there
was a Mackenzie waiting by the front door of the cottage. He swung his sword at Skald’s head. Skald ducked, and felt the blade brush the top of his head.

  “Ye time has come, viking,” the Scotsman said, thrusting his sword again at Skald. Skald was ready for the second thrust and sidestepped, causing the man to lose his balance, stumbling forward. Skald whipped his sword out from over his shoulder, and slammed it into the man’s back, opening up his clothing and splitting his spine.

  Freya gasped as she watched the carnage, but soon recovered herself and stepped over the man, to run to Skald.