The Viking's Captive

by Quinn Loftis

  “Way to rally the troops, sis,” Dayna called quietly back to me. “I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

  “There will be no passing out,” Hilda practically bellowed. “I forbid it.”

  “Oh well, since you forbid it,” I huffed. “Far be it from us to fall out due to exhaustion just on your will alone.”

  “Glad we understand one another,” Hilda said, and I swear she picked up the pace again.

  Bloody shieldmaiden, Oracle Amazon, I thought as I, too, forced my feet to move faster. I’d be damned if I had to tell my future husband that his elderly mother was able to travel faster and farther than me. Wouldn’t that be attractive to a man who lived his daily life among warrior maidens?

  Leaving in the field his arms, let no man go a foot’s length forward; for it is hard to know when on the way a man may need his weapon.

  ~ Hávamál, Book of Viking Wisdom

  I could feel Allete’s exhaustion. I wondered what she was doing that had her in such a state. Many of the possibilities that entered my mind I quickly dismissed. Thinking about all the horrible things that might befall her wouldn’t do me any good. Hours after the dream in which we’d connected, I felt her terror. But no matter how much I tried to reach out to her, I couldn’t make contact. It was frustrating to not fully understand how the soul match worked. I focused, instead, on the worn path in front of me. Thomas had been continually consulting his compass and we were headed in the right direction, but it felt like we would never make it back to my homeland, as though Ravenscar was moving farther away even as we moved forward.

  “The horses need another break,” Brant said as he rode up next to me. “I want to get to our clan just as badly as you do, but it won’t help us if we kill our mounts.”

  Another reason why ships were superior. They never tired. “It’s another hour ‘til twilight. We’ll bed down then,” I said without casting him a glance. I could sense he wanted to argue with me, but my narrowed eyes and flat expression must have made it clear I wasn’t in the mood.

  We continued on like that for another week—riding until the horses nearly collapsed under our weight and then pausing just long enough to catch food and get a small amount of rest. Finally, after a fortnight, we reached Denmark and found a port. As soon as I saw the blessed harbor come into view, I stopped the horse and slung my leg over, landing on the ground with a satisfying thud.

  “I’m done riding. From here we will cross in a ship to Normandy. It will be much faster than going around,” I said, not bothering to check behind me and see if the others were following. “We will sell the horses and find a ride across on a trading vessel.”

  An hour later, we were all standing on the dock, counting the money we’d made from the sale of the horses. I walked over to a small ship loaded down with animal pelts, barrels—no doubt full of ale—and full crates and trunks.

  “How much to cross?” I asked the man who was barking orders to the small crew onboard.

  “How much ye got?” The man’s words came out in a bit of a whistle, and I noticed he was missing two front teeth.

  I held out a pouch that was obviously heavy with coin. “There are eight of us,” I told him, holding the pouch just out of reach. “You’ll take us all. We’re going up to the east, to the port of Ravenscar.”

  The man shrugged. “I ‘aven’t done no trading up there in a while. Might be I could use a change o’ scenery.”

  I handed him the coins and then motioned for the others to follow. We boarded the small ship, and I tried not to remember the storm that had nearly capsized the last boat in which we’d caught a ride. The water was calm at the moment, but I knew, just as any sailor worth his salt knew, that the sea could change in the blink of an eye.

  We made ourselves useful, helping the crew get ready to shove off. Once the ship was moving, I turned and faced the open waters, asking Aegir to be merciful and give us safe travel. The gods weren’t known for their mercy, but one could hope.

  I heard the murmuring of my men behind me, but I tuned them out as I focused on the bond between me and Allete. I tried to speak to her, but it almost felt as if something were blocking the communication between us. I could feel her frustration and pain, but that was a far as it went. My jaw clenched at the thought of her in pain. I would destroy anyone who hurt her, or who helped to hurt her. If it were possible, I would crush anyone who even thought to harm her.

  “I can’t remember a single time that I dreaded returning home,” Brant said as he stepped up beside me. “I’m scared of what we will find once we get there, and I’m scared of what will happen to our women and your mother the longer they are in Magnus’ hands.”

  “It is a special kind of torture to know the ones you love are in danger and be unable to save them,” I said. The cool, salty air rolling off the water ruffled my hair and cooled my skin. It was familiar, but not comforting. Not this time.

  “Soon, we won’t be helpless to save them. Soon, our axes will be coated with the blood of our enemies.” Brant’s deep voice was as quiet and unyielding as forged steel.

  “Aye,” I agreed. “But not soon enough, brother. Not soon enough.”

  At the speed we were going, and if the ocean and wind stayed favorable, it would be two days until we reached our port. If a storm came upon us, it could add a day or more to the trip, depending on how well the captain kept his bearings. I was praying the gods would be at peace and not send any storms our way, but I decided against speaking my wishes out loud for fear one of them would hear. It was well known that if the gods were bored they might decide to amuse themselves by wreaking havoc on men’s lives.

  “Might as well grab some sleep while we can,” I said, looking back at my men. In the cramped conditions of the boat, we didn’t expect comfortable rest. Rather, we simply found the driest spot we could and hoped it stayed that way while we dozed.

  I found a spot on a backup sail that had been folded up tightly. As my eyes closed, I hoped I would meet Allete in my dreams. I was quickly pulled under from sheer exhaustion, and I felt Allete almost immediately.

  “We’re in Denmark.”

  I could tell she wasn’t speaking to me. It felt more like a thought to herself than anything she was saying out loud. My stomach clenched. We had been in the same country. It didn’t matter how large that country was, or that we still could have been hundreds of miles away from each other, we’d been on the same continent. It seemed so close, and now I was on a boat in the ocean, moving away from her. I wanted to roar in frustration. After several attempts to speak to my princess, I gave up and slipped into a deeper sleep. Darkness cloaked my dreams, and I knew, even in my sleep, that I was surrounded by danger. There was a presence in the darkness, and it wasn’t Allete. I heard my mind asking who or what it was. A voice I didn’t recognize filled my dream, speaking words that chilled me to my bones.

  “She may be your soul match, you may be her anchor, but you cannot protect her. Say your goodbyes, Viking. Allete’s blood will be mine.”

  “I’m on an adventure. There’s a handsome hero and a despicable villain and even a nutty old woman. Funny, I don’t remember her when I’d daydreamed of this type of thing as a child. Perhaps it’s not exactly the adventure I pictured for myself, but I believe one day it will be quite the story to tell my children.”

  ~ Diary of Allete Auvray

  I never thought I’d actually wish for death to take me. But, as it turned out, when freezing cold, hungry, hurting all over, and—did I mention hungry?—I found myself ready for the cold hands of the grave to put me out of my misery.

  “Are you muttering to yourself?” Dayna asked.

  Before I could answer, I bumped into Hilda, who had suddenly stopped in front of me.

  “Shh,” Hilda said.

  I ignored my sister’s question and instead focused on what it was that had the Oracle so enthralled. I leaned around her shoulder, trying not to touch my wet clothes to her wet clothes, fearing it would cause me to shiver even
more violently.

  “Look,” Hilda pointed. “People.”

  “Finally,” Dayna said. She walked around both Hilda and me, her feet squishing in her shoes.

  “Wait,” I whispered, trying to grab her dress as she passed by. It slipped right through my fingers. “We don’t know if it’s safe!” I added, trying again to get her to stop.

  Hilda started after Dayna. I thought she was going to bring her back to our hiding spot, but apparently I was the only one with any sense left in my head because the old woman kept right on marching. I scurried after them, whether to protect Dayna or keep from being left alone in the woods, I wasn’t sure.

  I could only imagine the thoughts that must have been running through the heads of the villagers who turned to stare at us as we traipsed out of the forest and onto the main road. Our hair was plastered to our heads, and our clothes were muddy, wet, and smelled like the rear end of a cow. I couldn’t blame them as their eyes widened and their mouths dropped open. We must have been a sight to behold.

  We had emerged into a sort of marketplace. As we walked past the huts, I noticed some were offering various services, including a blacksmith, a leather worker, and a seamstress. Set up alongside or in front of the huts were small carts plying a number of wares from eggs to small pieces of pottery. It was a bustling little community. Well, it had been, until the two mud princesses and icky Oracle came trudging along. Since we’d arrived, the only things moving were the eyeballs that followed our progress.

  I didn’t know what Hilda was looking for, but I was really hoping she’d find it soon. The stillness was beginning to unnerve me.

  “Here we are,” I heard her say and shifted my eyes to where she pointed.

  It was another small hut with a sign hanging above the door that read Uter.

  “Herbs?” I said, translating the Danish word. “So, we’re in Denmark?”

  “You speak Danish?” Hilda asked, glancing over her shoulder at me.

  I pointed to myself and Dayna. “Royalty, remember? Tea and crumpets. We were forced to learn many different languages, which, up until now, I’d thought had been totally useless.”

  Dayna nodded. “Those lessons were painful to my brain.”

  Hilda shook her head as though she were giving up trying to understand us and then said, “To answer your question, yes. It looks like we are in Denmark. I’m not sure which part yet.” Turning, she entered the small hut, and Dayna and I followed.

  The interior was lit by a fire in a small hearth and several oil-burning lamps, and the place smelled of fresh dirt and aromatic plants. There was a cot that stood waist-high off the ground on the opposite wall from the door. To the right, three shelves covered in jars full of powders, plants, and different-colored liquids spanned the length of the room. There was a barrel in the corner sitting upside down with a stack of clean linen strips folded neatly on top. On the other side of the room, a woman sat in a chair. Her blonde hair was braided and pulled over her shoulder. Her skin was pale and almost too perfect. There was something about her that made me wary. I wasn’t exactly scared, but I sensed this woman could be dangerous if the situation called for it. She was mixing something in a bowl and humming a familiar tune, though I couldn’t place it.

  “You are new,” the woman said, still not taking her attention from her work.

  “And you are a witch,” Hilda said without preamble. That was my mother-in-law, straightforward, calling witches out wherever we went.

  Dayna bared her teeth at the woman like an angry dog. I considered whether I needed to have an animal healer check my sister. She seemed rabid. Any other time, I might have chuckled at that thought, but the situation was a bit too tense for laughter just then.

  Upon hearing Hilda’s words, the woman finally gave us her full attention. Her eyes were a vivid green and nearly glowed as she met our stares. She smiled slowly. “And you are an Oracle.” Her eyes shifted to me. “As are you.” When she looked at Dayna, she frowned.

  “If you tell me I’m powerless, I won’t be responsible for what happens,” Dayna bit out through clenched teeth.

  I placed a hand on her arm, afraid she might jump at the witch.

  “You are most definitely not powerless, but your power does not lie in magic. Rather, it is in the strength of will that lives inside you. Your soul is pure, your heart is good, and you are a bringer of justice.” The woman stood and walked—slowly, as if not to scare my sister—over to Dayna. She lifted her hand, placed it on Dayna’s forehead, and closed her eyes.

  It took everything in me not to push the witch away. The last witch I’d met hadn’t left me with a good impression. When the woman began chanting under her breath, I moved forward to push her away, but Hilda placed a hand on my shoulder and shook her head at me. I clenched my teeth and forced my feet to remain planted.

  “Dayna Auvray, Princess to the English throne, youngest daughter and beloved sister. Great things are set before you. Terrible things lay behind you. They will continue to change you, but do not let them define you. There is a choice coming soon that will require great sacrifice. You must choose correctly, for if you do not, many will die.” She stepped back and opened her eyes. This time they were glowing.

  Dayna frowned. “If you were trying to make me feel better, you failed.”

  “Would you read the other?” Hilda asked, pointing to me.

  This time my feet did not hold true, and I took a step back before I’d even realized I wanted to. “I’m okay with not being read. In fact, I think I’d prefer not to be read. I don’t think it’s really my thing.”

  “And what is your thing, dear?” Hilda asked dryly.

  “Mostly avoiding death and strange people touching me,” I said, looking skeptically at the woman who was stepping closer. Had she not heard me? I thought I’d spoken rather clearly, but maybe I needed to say it in another language, or five.

  “I won’t hurt you,” the woman said. “And there is something in your aura, something off.”

  Dayna snorted. “That’s not surprising. Allete has always been a little off.”

  I pinched her arm. “Speak for yourself, miscreant.”

  Hilda did that weird thing where she moved faster than a woman of her age should. Before I knew it, she was standing behind me and placed her hands on my shoulders, holding me still. “Go on,” she said to the witch.

  The woman’s hand touched my forehead, and I gasped. Warmth began to work its way into my body. It was as though my veins had been cut open and the sun allowed to shine directly into them. It wasn’t uncomfortable, quite the opposite. As the warmth moved through me, I started to notice something strange. The warm power wasn’t reaching all of me. The feeling started in my toes, moved up my legs, and continued up my body. When it got to my chest, it stopped and then restarted at my neck, moved up my face, and stopped once again at my hairline. My chest and the top of my head felt as cold as ice compared to the rest of my body. I shivered, and the cold seemed to wrap around my heart and begin to squeeze.

  “Allete Auvray,” the woman said, “eldest princess of England.”

  She paused, and I frowned. “Is that all? What about beloved sister and all that stuff?”

  Dayna and Hilda shushed me at the same time.

  “Your destiny was set from the day of your birth, but the tie that binds you to your destiny is being unraveled.”

  Hilda growled—seriously growled—behind me. “What?”

  I realized the Oracle was concerned that she herself hadn’t foreseen this problem. That frightened me. I had been so sure Hilda’s prophecy would come true, that Torben and I would be together. Now, doubts washed over me.

  “Your blood was shed. Blood holds much power. One of my craft, cloaked in evil and darkness, now holds that blood in her hands.”

  “Gisele,” Dayna whispered.

  “Shh, child,” the witch hissed. “Do not speak her name. Do not draw her attention.”

  “What do you mean she has my blood in her hands
?” I asked.

  “The blood from your throat, she must have obtained it from that blade,” Hilda said before cursing under her breath. “I should have seen that coming. Damn it all, I know better than to let blood fall into the hands of a black witch.”

  The witch still had her hand on my forehead, and her eyes were still closed. She seemed to be concentrating hard, and I didn’t want to interrupt her; but at the same time, I really felt like she needed to elaborate on the whole somebody-evil-has-my-blood situation. “Am I going to die?” I asked.

  Her eyes snapped open, and she stepped back. “Yes.”

  My eyes widened.

  She clucked her tongue at me. “Everyone dies. Why would you ask such a silly question?”

  My jaw clenched and then relaxed. “You just said someone has my blood and they’re evil. Why wouldn’t I ask if I were going to die? I didn’t mean eventually—I meant in the near future.”

  “You should be careful when you ask questions to a witch. Be very clear on what you’re asking.” She held out her hand. “I am Tawny, a white witch, though the villagers think I am simply a healer. So please, don’t go out discussing what the white witch told you.”

  “Nice to meet you, I think,” I said, shaking her hand. “This is my sister; you already know her name.”

  Tawny looked at Hilda and bowed slightly. “And you are Hilda of Clan Hakon.” She stepped toward Hilda and lifted her hand. “May I?”

  Hilda nodded. “By all means, don’t leave me out of the mysterious readings. I’m usually the one saying things that make people frown. It’s nice to be on the other side of things for once.”