The Viking's Captive

by Quinn Loftis

  I nodded, releasing her. Turning to Calder, I glared. “You have your answers. It would be most appreciated if your people would stop slicing us up.”

  Calder was staring down at me with undisguised desire, not just with lust, but also with a need for ownership and challenge. This was a man who liked the chase. He was a predator. It showed in the way he held his body, the confidence he exuded, and the gleam in his eyes that announced he loved a good fight. He didn’t seem cruel, not the way Cathal had, but he also didn’t look like he would take no for an answer once he set his mind on something.

  He stepped closer to me until we were toe-to-toe. “Maybe it isn’t such a bad thing that my brother showed up uninvited after all.”

  His voice was soft, his words obviously intended only for me. Aren’t I lucky, I thought.

  “Don’t be so quick to conclude that,” I said, not taking my eyes off him. I remembered the lesson Torben and Brant had taught my sister in the corridor outside my chamber. They’d disarmed her because she’d taken her eyes off her enemy. I wouldn’t make the same mistake. “All that glitters is not gold.”

  “I wouldn’t compare you to gold, little gem. You are very much a diamond in the rough—a precious stone that sparkles because it is flawed. Those flaws are what make it precious and unique.”

  My mouth dropped open. Not because I was flattered by his words, though many women must have fallen under his sway in the past. No, my mouth was nearly touching the ground because this massive brute had just said something incredibly profound. “Did you read that somewhere?” I asked and then frowned. “Can you read?”

  Hilda snorted. “There’s no way he came up with that on his own.”

  Calder paid her no attention, he just continued to stare down at me. “I am no fool. I can recognize when there is something of worth right in front of my face. And you are definitely something of worth.”

  “She’s a someone, not a something,” Dayna snapped.

  I grabbed her wrist, willing her to shut her mouth. Didn’t she remember only moments ago she’d been stabbed in the belly? It was nice to know that something like a little knife in the gut didn’t dim her charming personality, but I wish she’d at least try not to get herself killed.

  “Regardless, the important thing is that she is mine.” He picked up my hand and pressed his lips to it. “Welcome to your new clan, Gem.”

  A shiver—and not the kind Torben gave me—ran through my body, and I jerked my hand back. I wanted to wipe it off, but I didn’t dare anger him. I didn’t know what Calder was capable of, but if he let his witch go around stabbing people, he certainly had no aversion to violence.

  Gisele let out a huff that reminded me of a child who was being ignored. She stepped up beside Calder and pointed at Dayna. “This one has no magic. She is useless.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Dayna said as her lip turned up in disgust.

  Gisele moved even closer to her and took a deep breath. “I smell death on you. Perhaps you should be careful what that tongue of yours spits out. My blade has had a taste of your blood, and it would welcome more.”

  I wanted to kick my sister and tell her to keep her mouth shut for once in her life.

  “Maybe you just need a bath,” Dayna replied, smiling innocently and staring down the evil woman in front of her.

  I held my breath, sure at any moment that Gisele was going to follow through on her threat. Much to my relief, the witch simply moved over to me, forcing Calder to take a step back.

  Her hand was on my cheek before I even finished blinking, and a sudden wave of nausea rocked my body. I tried not to move for fear of vomiting if I did so. I had a feeling that Gisele would not take kindly to being puked upon. It felt as if she were trying to pull my soul straight out of me while pushing her magic into me, and it was sinister and bitter. I gagged and tried to take a step back, but I was rooted to the ground. I didn’t know what she was doing to me, but I knew I wanted her to stop immediately and never touch me again. She was pure evil, and her magic felt like black tar being poured into my veins.

  Against my better judgment, I stared into the witch’s bright green eyes. They began to change. A ring of black pitch grew around the green, slowly surrounding and overtaking her iris until all the green was gone. I wanted to look away, but no matter how hard I told my eyes to shift, they didn’t move. It was as though my will had been taken from me.

  Several minutes later, she finally stepped back and dropped her hand.

  “She is very powerful, but not just because she is a healer and an Oracle,” Gisele said. “There is something else that blends with her magic. I cannot tell what.”

  My eyes were able to move again, but I didn’t dare even a glance at Hilda for I knew the power to which Gisele referred—the blood bond between me and Torben. It was powerful, and I was sure it would be better if Calder and his witch knew nothing about it.

  “You should keep her, though she is insolent,” Gisele continued, now pointing back at Dayna. “You can use her to control the healer.”

  Calder’s lips pursed as he rubbed his jaw with his large hand. “And what of this so-called prophecy the Oracle just gave?” The look in his eyes said he didn’t give a Thor’s hammer about the prophecy; he was going to keep me regardless. Or at least, he thought he was.

  “The Oracle spoke before knowing my true power. Whoever this king is, he and his army are no match for me.”

  “I will hold you to that, witch,” Calder said, his gaze sharp.

  She shrugged as if she knew his words were empty. I imagined, they probably were. What threat could a man be to a witch who practiced dark magic?

  Glancing over his shoulder, Calder yelled, “The women are off limits until I say otherwise. Touch them, and I will cut off your hands.” Gisele and Calder turned away from us and began walking back toward the forest where they had emerged. Lifting a hand in the air, he flicked his wrist forward. Magnus and his men were pushed forward as Calder’s men herded them in the direction they wanted them to go. Hilda, Dayna, and I were also pushed along, though a bit more gently.

  “Why didn’t he tie us back up?” I asked Hilda.

  She shot me a look that made it clear she thought my question was ridiculous. “He’s wooing you.”

  “Um, excuse me?”

  “I think the old lady means he wants to lift your skirt and drop your bloomers,” Dayna said.

  I turned my head, my eyes meeting hers. “You are never allowed to be around Cook again.” I said.

  Dayna shrugged. “I can abide by that. I’m sure Brant and the other warriors have just as much knowledge as, if not more than, Cook. It would probably be better to get a male perspective, anyway.”

  I forced myself not to roll my eyes at her. Dayna loved to get a rise out of me. Unfortunately, it worked more often than not.

  “You won’t need to wait for Brant,” Hilda called back over her shoulder. “There are plenty of males around us who would love to discuss rutting with you.”

  I groaned. “Hilda, can we please try not to encourage my sister to do reckless, stupid, impulsive things? And stop teaching her new words.”

  Hilda made a shooing motion toward me, then asked, “Where’s the fun in that?”

  “I know what rutting is, Allete,” Dayna huffed. “Father talked about it while getting ready for the hunting season.”

  “Stop saying that word,” I ground out, glancing around to see if any of the men walking near us were paying attention.

  “Maybe a good rutting would loosen you up, sister,” she said. “You nearly died, I nearly died, I think we both deserve a good rut.”

  Hilda was nearly bent over laughing as she followed the warriors, who were glancing at us with amused looks on their faces. “How would Brant feel about your brilliant rutting idea?” I asked.

  Her smile dropped away, but not for long. “You think he would be less angry if I explained I thought I was going to die and I didn’t want to leave this world without experiencing the
desires of the flesh?”

  It was Hilda who answered. “He’d ask who fulfilled your desires, and then he would hunt them down and kill them. Are you really keen on setting a man’s death sentence?”

  “You two take the fun out of everything,” she grumbled.

  “You have a gash in your dress where you were stabbed; can’t you just be happy that you’re still alive to someday be with Brant in that way? After you are much, much older and very, very married?”

  “Can a person be only somewhat married?” she asked.

  “Perhaps we should reflect on our gratefulness in silence,” I suggested.

  Hilda was laughing again.

  By the time we finally reached Calder’s village, Hilda had stopped laughing and I’d managed to keep Dayna from talking anymore about the desires of the flesh.

  We were led to a grouping of trees where they retied our hands, this time fastening them behind our backs to tree trunks so that we were sitting on our bottoms with our backs against the trees. They did the same to Magnus and all his warriors.

  “What are they going to do with us?” Dayna asked after nearly half an hour of simply watching Calder’s clan move about their village.

  “It depends,” Hilda said. “If we escape, then nothing. If we don’t, then it will depend on how badly Calder wants Allete and to what end. When he was looking at her earlier, it didn’t appear as though he’d fully decided what he wanted more; Allete as a healer or Allete as a woman.” She turned to face me. “Granted, he could force you to be both.”

  I frowned. “I am not so easily bested.”

  “You will be. He has someone you love in his power, and you would do anything to protect those you love. Calder isn’t pure evil like Cathal, but he is a man who is used to getting what he wants. He will try to seduce you at first. If that doesn’t work, he will threaten Dayna and me. Your reaction to Dayna being stabbed made it very clear that you are willing to do anything for your sister’s safety, even bed a Viking warlord.”

  Bile rose up in my throat at the thought of Calder’s bed. Could I give myself to him willingly? The answer was yes, without hesitation, if it meant keeping Dayna and Hilda safe. I would hate it, and I’d probably vomit while in his bed, but I would do it.

  “And if I cooperate with him? What will he do with you two then?” I asked.

  “He will use me the same as Magnus has, and he will probably find your sister a suitable husband. He will try to make sure you approve of the man, but ultimately, you will both have to do what he wants or suffer the consequences.”

  “At the beginning of this conversation, you mentioned escaping. I vote for that one. Then there will be no unwanted rutting or healing or torture,” Dayna said.

  I was in complete agreement with my sister. “Escaping is definitely Plan A. Unwanted rutting is Plan Z.”

  “What are the plans from B to Y?” Dayna asked.

  “Distraction and avoidance,” Hilda said.

  I nodded. “Precisely.”

  At some point during the day, exhaustion could no longer be fought. I had been trying to keep my eyes open, to observe my enemy as Torben instructed, but my body was no longer cooperating. My eyelids shut despite my brain screaming at them to stay open. The last thing I remember hearing was Dayna pointing out certain men in Calder’s clan that were handsome enough that ‘rutting with them wouldn’t be completely abhorrent.’ If I ever saw Cook again, I was going to maim her for causing my sister’s unhealthy obsession with rutting. I wouldn’t kill her, though; the woman’s food was too good, and it would be selfish of me to rob others of her cooking.

  Wit is needful to him who travels far: at home all is easy. A laughing-stock is he who nothing knows, and with the instructed sits.

  ~ Hávamál, Book of Viking Wisdom

  We’d been riding for what felt like weeks with very few breaks. I much preferred the rocking motion of my longboat to the gait of a horse—not to mention the longboat didn’t cause saddle sores. When I dismounted the horse at our next break, my feet nearly collapsed beneath me. I’d only been on the ground a few minutes when pain lashed through my body. My face began to throb as if I’d been hit. Fear and indignation flooded my body as my heart beat hard in my chest.

  “Torben?” Brant’s worried voice barely registered as I doubled over, the wind being knocked out of me.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Thomas asked.

  My hands were braced on my knees as I fought nausea that was rolling through my stomach. I swallowed several times to keep the rising bile down. I couldn’t hear her thoughts, but I knew instinctively what I was feeling was what Allete was enduring. Rage replaced the fear, but it wasn’t her rage, it was mine. What in the name of the gods was happening to her? I couldn’t imagine Magnus hurting her in such a way, but if he had, I would make his death all the more painful.

  Some of the pain subsided, and I could breathe again. It didn’t last long. Fear like I’d never felt hit me like a massive wave from an angry sea. I could tell the fear was for her sister. She was desperate to protect Dayna and helpless to do so. A few seconds later, I felt a sharp slash against my neck, and it suddenly felt as though I couldn’t breathe. Fluid was filling my throat and I felt like I was suffocating.

  I collapsed to the ground, unable to tell my men what was happening. My eyes stared up at them though not really seeing them. I could hear their muffled voices, and they sounded frantic.

  “Allete,” I called out to her, but I didn’t hear her sweet voice in reply. All I could feel was her life slipping further and further away. The strong presence of her soul in mine was growing weaker.

  “It’s not yet our time, love.” I didn’t know if she could hear me, but I didn’t care. Talking to her gave me hope that I could give her the strength to hold on. “We have a life to live, babes to have, and a lifetime of me ruffling your feathers. Fight, Princess. Fight for us.” There was only one other time that I had felt so desperate to get to her, and that was when I’d had to watch Cathal touch and kiss her against her will. I was struggling to keep my eyes open. Something inside me told me that if she died, then I would die right along with her. Which would be better than living in this world without her.

  I don’t know how long it was until I was finally able to breathe again. I felt warmth flowing through my body, and the pain in my neck eased until it was completely gone.

  “Torben! Come on, you arse, open your damn eyes,” Brant said, shaking me by the shoulders.

  When I finally opened them, I saw six sets of eyes staring down at me. Their confusion would have been humorous if I weren’t consumed with worry for Allete. I knew she was alive, but I also knew now that she was in danger, as were Hilda and Dayna.

  “Make yourself useful and help me up,” I said to Brant, holding my hand out to him. He hoisted me to my feet and helped steady me until I was sure I wouldn’t collapse again.

  “What was that?” Amund asked with the others nodding in agreement at his question.

  I rubbed a hand across my throat, expecting to find a healed wound, but the skin was completely unmarred. A part of me didn’t want to tell them about my connection to Allete. It was intimate; the idea of sharing it with anyone felt like I was giving up a piece of us. I decided I could give them an explanation they would accept without revealing too much.

  “Allete is my prophesied chosen.” I paused, still attempting to catch my breath. “Hilda said there was a connection between us. I can’t explain it. I just know that she’s been harmed and she’s in danger.”

  They didn’t question me further. The tight-lipped determination on their faces reinforced the fact that these men would follow me into hell itself if I asked.

  “Then there is no time to waste,” Thomas said. “We need to make haste and deal with Cathal so we can get to the women.”

  The men all nodded, muttering in agreement.

  Though the pain was gone, I still found it hard to breathe, but not because of anything Allete was enduring. Anguish
was tightening my lungs. She’d been hurt, mortally wounded, and the only explanation for her survival was that Hilda had healed her. I had never been more grateful for my mother’s ability than I was in that moment. Thomas’s voice distracted me from my worried thoughts, and I forced myself to focus.

  “There it is,” Thomas said, pointing at the port less than a hundred yards away.

  There were ships tied up at the docks, and others were anchored just a little farther out. It wasn’t a large settlement, but it was obviously a busy harbor, most likely because it was so close to Normandy’s coastline.

  “What shall we do with the horses?” Amund asked. My men had been mostly quiet on the journey, and I wasn’t sure if it was because they didn’t agree with my choice of travel or if they were attempting to prepare themselves for what we’d find when we finally arrived back at our clan.

  My gut clenched, which only worsened the emotions that were still filling my veins with heat and burning worry, as I mentally counted the days in my head since we’d sprinted away from Albric’s kingdom—five days. Cathal had, no doubt, made it to shore since he’d taken a direct route without a madman at the helm. My only hope was that he didn’t know exactly where Clan Hakon was located and that lookouts had seen him coming and sent the clan into hiding. The only way Cathal would find our clan immediately was if he’d somehow taken one of our warriors as a prisoner. While such a thing might have been possible in the chaos following Magnus’ attack, it was doubtful. And even if he did have such a prisoner, it still wasn’t a certainty that the Viking would give up his clan. Most would die first, though I could think of a few cowards who might be willing to give up the information to save their own skin. Some of our warriors had stronger resolve than others, and frankly, some just tolerated pain better.

  If he didn’t have a prisoner, then Cathal would have to search for my clan, and that could take some time depending on where he landed on the coast. I dreaded what he might do if he came across other clans in his search. He might attack them if they refused to give him the information he wanted, even if they didn’t even have the information in the first place. Cathal was not a man who cared about how much blood was on his hands.