Timeless

by Thacker, Shelly

  Hauk shut his eyes, the longing behind her words making his heart thud against his ribs. If the two of them continued as they had tonight, there was every chance she would be carrying his child soon—mayhap very soon. And if their child were born here, on Asgard, their son or daughter would be innfodt. Native-born. Unable to leave the island.

  And Avril’s heart would be torn apart for the rest of her life, divided between one child on Asgard and one in France.

  He could not do that to her.

  He loved her too much to do that to her.

  “God’s breath.” She pulled away from him, blinking rapidly. “I have not admitted that aloud to anyone, not since I lost Gerard. I have tried so hard not to...”

  “Not to want,” he murmured. “Not to dream.”

  Nodding, she reached up to brush her fingertips over his stubbled jaw. “I did not believe God could ever bring another man so special into my life.” Her voice was edged with wonder and sorrow. “I thought no one could ever take Gerard’s place.”

  “No one ever will take his place,” he assured her quietly. “You are only afraid—”

  “I am not afraid.” A familiar, mutinous spark came into her eyes. “I am not—”

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “You are not afraid of wolves, or sailing dangerous waters alone, or even rather large Norsemen who carry you off across the sea.” He reached down to take her hand. Her left hand. “But you are afraid to let him go.”

  Her gaze settled on the gold band she wore. “That is not... I am not...” Her voice wavered as if the possibility had never occurred to her. “It is only that... I lost him so suddenly.” She fell silent for a long moment. “I never even... had a chance to say farewell to him,” she explained haltingly. “When he rode off that morn, I did not know it would be the last time I ever saw him.”

  Hauk kept his touch and his voice gentle as he asked the question. “How did it happen?”

  She looked up at the night sky. “He and his father were going to a tournament.” She said the word as if she hated it. “Only a tournament. I had not even told him yet that I thought I might be with child. It was too soon to be certain...” A low sound of hurt escaped her. “So he never knew about the baby. He died without ever knowing that he was to become a father.”

  Hauk clenched his jaw, pained more than ever that he had taken the little girl’s mother away from her. He threaded his fingers through Avril’s, holding on to her.

  Knowing he would soon have to let her go.

  “On the day he left,” Avril continued, her voice hollow, “that morn, he had been hunting in the woods, and he came in covered in mud, and I chastised him for tracking dirt everywhere. Then much later, after his squire came to tell me...” She swallowed hard. “To tell me that he was dead, that both he and his father had been killed by an enemy’s treachery, I ran to our bedchamber. I was on the floor, crying, and I looked up and saw a handprint, a muddy handprint on the wall beside the door. His handprint.” A single tear slid down her cheek. “For weeks I would not let the servants clean it away, because it was... as if he were still there with me.”

  Hauk shut his eyes, thinking of the sketch of Maeve he had made in one of his journals. He had once believed that he could hold on to her by holding onto some part of her, some symbol.

  “You do not need a handprint to remember him, Avril. Or a ring. You need not fear that you will forget him. You will never forget him.”

  She met his gaze, her eyes shimmering with emotion.

  He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. “And you need not fear that letting another man into your heart means you must banish him. That you could never do. But you should not be alone, little Valkyrie. You were not meant to be alone.” His voice became hoarse. “You need someone to share your life, and keep you safe, and tease you until you smile. And hold your hand.”

  But he would not be that man.

  “You are wrong, Hauk Valbrand,” she whispered, reaching up with her other hand to caress his cheek. “I do not need someone, I need—”

  A movement in the cove made Hauk glance out over the water—and freeze in shock. Avril gasped as she saw what he did.

  His ship, gliding straight past them toward the open end of the cove.

  Hauk leaped to his feet, swearing as he ran to the water’s edge, Avril just behind him. From here, in the scant moonlight, he could just make out a lone figure at the oars. A dark-haired man. “By Thor’s chariot, what does Keldan think he is—”

  “Why would he take your boat?” Avril cried.

  The man aboard the ship stood up, reaching for a line that bound the tiller in place, and the size and shape of the silhouette made Hauk curse. “That is not Keldan,” he growled, icy fury pouring through him. “It is Thorolf.”

  Chapter 20

  “Thorolf?” Avril gaped at the ship, her heart pounding. The single-masted vessel had to be more than twenty paces long, but with Thorolf at the oars, it cut swiftly through the waves. “But I thought the others were taking him to—”

  “He must have broken free somehow and escaped.” Hauk swore.

  Avril glanced toward the opposite end of the cove, near the forest, drenched by fear. “Sweet Mary, what if he hurt Josette and Keldan?”

  “Go and check on them, Avril.” Hauk was already grabbing his belt from the sand, unsheathing his knife.

  “But what are you—”

  “I have to stop him.”

  “Nay! Hauk, where could he possibly be going? If he can only survive for six days—”

  “He is either insane, terrified of facing the elders, or angry enough to reveal our secret to the outside world. Mayhap all three. Whatever he is planning, I cannot let him leave.”

  Avril shook her head, alarmed at the idea of him going off to face Thorolf alone. “Hauk, you cannot—”

  “It is my duty, Avril. He could endanger everyone on Asgard. If I run, I can cut him off before he reaches the mouth of the cove.” He paused just long enough to give her a quick, hard kiss. “Do not argue with me. Go and see if Keldan and Josette are all right.”

  He turned and raced up the shoreline, into the darkness. Avril watched him, feeling helpless. If Thorolf was so determined to leave, he would be more dangerous than ever. And he might have weapons.

  Hauk was armed only with the knife in his hand. They had left his sword and her crossbow lashed to Ildfast’s saddle.

  She glanced back the way they had come. They had walked such a distance to the waterfall, it would take her twenty minutes to reach Keldan and Josette. By then Hauk could be hurt. Or worse.

  There are some things even an innfodt cannot survive, he had said.

  Swallowing hard, she turned to look at the ship. It was nearing the mouth of the cove. She could just make out Hauk’s silhouette as he reached the end of the shoreline and dove into the water, swimming straight for the boat. Terrifying memories of almost dying in those cold, night-black waves rushed over her.

  But she could not leave Hauk alone when he needed help.

  She snatched up her belt from where it lay discarded in the sand and fastened it around her waist. Gripping the hilt of her own small knife, she ran after him.

  ~ ~ ~

  Drenched and shuddering with cold, Hauk grabbed onto the ship’s rudder, grateful for the concealing darkness and the noise of the surf. He treaded water as the light, shallow-keeled knorr bobbed up and down on the waves. He had to disable the ship. Quickly. His boat was meant to carry cargo in the space beneath its smooth deck. Empty, it would sail over the waves as fast as a seabird.

  With a fair wind, Thorolf could escape in a matter of minutes.

  Hauk placed his knife between his teeth. He could hear the scrape of wood against metal—the oars being pulled in through the oarlocks. Thorolf was preparing to unfurl the sail.

  Gritting back a curse, Hauk reached up to grab the low railing. Then he took the knife and slashed through the leather thongs that held the rudder to the sternpost. It fell int
o the water, dangling uselessly by the ropes Thorolf had used to lash the tiller to the rail and keep the ship on course.

  Almost at once, the boat began to drift. Gripping his knife, Hauk pulled himself up over the side, landing nimbly on the deck. “God kveld, Thorolf. Good evening,” he said coolly as he helped himself to a sword Thorolf had left in the stern.

  Standing amidships, Thorolf whirled with a startled oath. “Valbrand!”

  “You have just lost your rudder,” Hauk informed him. “I am afraid you will not be leaving Asgard.”

  Thorolf’s gaze darted to the stern, and his face darkened with fury. “Nei, damn you!” He snarled. “You will not stop me, vokter, Not this time!”

  “I already have.” Not taking his gaze from Thorolf, Hauk crouched to pick up a length of rope. “I am taking you back to face the eldrer—”

  “Never! I will never again set foot on that accursed rock. I am free now! And you will not keep me here.” Thorolf yanked a line that dangled near his hand as he grabbed onto the railing.

  The square sail unfurled with a sudden snap, caught the wind, and sent the ship heeling onto its side. Hauk lost his balance, tumbling to the deck, his weapons knocked from his grasp. Even as the ship righted itself, he scrambled to his feet—but could not dodge fast enough as Thorolf flung a dagger at him. Hauk dove sideways but the blade struck him in the right arm. Grunting in pain, he landed hard on the polished wooden planking.

  Thorolf snatched up one of the discarded oars, lifting it over his head like a club.

  But before he could strike, a knife came flying through the darkness from behind him, a silver flash in the moonlight that seemed to appear out of nowhere. It caught Thorolf in the shoulder and he stumbled, dropping the oar, roaring in surprise and pain.

  Startled, Hauk looked past Thorolf—to see Avril clinging to the railing at the bow of the ship, her eyes on Hauk’s wounded arm. “Hauk—”

  “Avril, nay!”

  It was too late. Thorolf whirled toward her, sputtering enraged curses.

  She screamed and started to drop back into the water, but Thorolf was faster. He lunged down and caught her, hauling her onto the deck. Yanking her in front of him, he turned to face Hauk. “Now, vokter,” he snarled, “let us talk about whether I am free to go.”

  Hauk jumped to his feet and grabbed the sword he had dropped, the pain in his arm forgotten.

  “Nei, drop the weapon!” Thorolf demanded.

  “Release her first—”

  “Drop the weapon,” Thorolf repeated, keeping one arm around Avril’s throat and the other around her waist as she struggled and kicked. “And tell her not to try any tricks! Her friend taught me a lesson earlier. I will not be fooled—”

  Avril—clearly unable to understand what Thorolf was saying in Norse—fastened her teeth on his arm and bit him.

  Cursing, Thorolf snatched his arm from around her neck. But just long enough to reach behind him and yank her knife from his shoulder, gritting his teeth. He pressed the bloody edge against Avril’s throat, and she gasped and went still.

  “Tell her, Valbrand!” Thorolf’s lips curled back from his teeth. “And put the sword down. They are pitifully fragile, these utlending. A single flick of this blade and she is dead.”

  Hauk met Avril’s terrified gaze, his heart slamming against his ribs. He had no doubt Thorolf would do as he threatened.

  “Avril, listen to me.” He fought to keep his tone even, setting the weapon on the deck. “I want you to remain very still—”

  “Hauk, I—”

  “Do not try to get free,” he ordered urgently. “If you try to use any tricks, he is going to hurt you.”

  She nodded and remained frozen. Hauk felt his gut clench at the way she was trembling in Thorolf’s hold.

  “Very good,” Thorolf said more coolly in Norse, keeping the blade at her throat. “But I warn you, take one step toward me and she dies.”

  Hauk pressed his hand over the wound in his arm, trying to staunch the flow of blood, to ignore the pain. “Let her go.” He fastened his gaze on Thorolf’s black eyes. “Release her and you can have the boat. Go wherever you want and die and be damned.”

  “I do not think so. I have a much better plan in mind.” Thorolf jerked his head toward the rudder. “First you will repair the damage you caused, vokter. And then you can sail this ship safely out of Asgard waters.” He smiled. “In truth, I find this a most satisfying turn of events. You, who have always thwarted me, will now help set me free.”

  “You will only be free for six days—and then you will be dead.”

  “There you are wrong.” Thorolf chuckled. “Fix the rudder and I will show you what I mean.” He dug the knife into Avril’s skin. “Or you can refuse—and lose another wife.”

  Hauk clenched his fists, murderous rage and helpless frustration roiling inside him. He had no choice. Keeping his gaze on Thorolf, he moved back into the stern and dragged the trailing rudder up from the water, lashing it back into place.

  “Very wise of you, vokter. Now take the tiller. You know the safest way through the rocks on this part of the coast better than I.” Thorolf took up a position beside the mast, forcing Avril with him. “And I suggest you keep the ship steady. Any sudden movement and your pretty bride might be damaged.”

  Hauk did as he said, his gaze on Avril. Her cheeks were pale, her eyes full of fear—and apology. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, both forgiving her and begging her not to make any move that Thorolf might find threatening.

  Standing at the tiller, the deep cut in his arm throbbing painfully, Hauk guided the knorr through the moonlit darkness. He knew that he dared not give in to any of the dangerous ideas simmering in his head.

  If he were alone with Thorolf, he would not hesitate to purposely slam the ship into one of the towering pillars of rock that loomed out of the fog.

  But he would not endanger Avril.

  He carefully navigated toward the safest passage he knew, between two of the ancient, massive stones. The knorr responded as he had known it would, gliding over the water as straight and fast as a seabird.

  The night wind quickly carried them beyond Asgard’s boundary.

  And into the open ocean.

  “You have what you wanted,” Hauk ground out. “Now release her. If you wish to commit suicide rather than face the eldrer—”

  “The eldrer no longer hold any power over me.” A grin split Thorolf’s face. “Any more than you or those lackwits who almost managed to take me back to town earlier.”

  “What did you do to them?” Hauk demanded, his attention shifting back to Avril.

  She was shivering as the cold wind cut through her wet garments. Hauk struggled to think of some way to get her safely out of Thorolf’s grasp.

  “Those young fools are better suited to being merchants and craftsmen than warriors,” Thorolf said scornfully. “They are far too compassionate and soft-hearted. When they stopped to rest on the far side of the forest, I complained that they had made my bonds too painful. They loosened them to ease my suffering, and I rather quickly had my hands on a weapon.” He shrugged. “Three of them should be awakening from langvarig sovn about now. The other two gave chase, but I managed to elude them, eventually.”

  Hauk grimaced. “And when you returned to the cove,” he asked, not certain he wanted to hear the answer, “what did you do to Keldan and his wife?”

  “I left them asleep on the shore,” Thorolf bit out. “All I wanted was the boat. All I wanted was to leave. If you had not interfered, as you always do—” Anger darkened his expression for a moment, before he continued with a careless shrug. “In truth, I have done that whelp of a carpenter a favor. His wife is one of us now.” He smiled. “I made her innfodt. She cannot die.”

  Hauk choked out a wordless exclamation. “You are insane.”

  “Nei, I am free. I have discovered the secret. Asgard’s secret.” Thorolf’s smile widened.

  Hauk stared at him in disbelief.

>   “Hauk,” Avril called to him, reclaiming his attention. “I could pretend to faint, and then I might be able to—”

  “Avril, nay,” Hauk said in French, fixing her with a stern look. “Remain still. Do not even—”

  “What are you saying to her?” Thorolf demanded, pressing the knife against her throat to silence her.

  “I am only telling her not to move,” Hauk insisted, his heartbeat loud in his ears, his wounded arm stabbing with pain as his fingers gripped the tiller. He tried to think. Discarded one desperate plan after another. “What in the name of all the sons of Odin makes you believe you have discovered Asgard’s secret? It cannot be done. For six hundred years our people have tried—”

  “And your father almost succeeded. That is the tragedy, is it not? He came so close, only to fail.” A satisfied expression stole across Thorolf’s blunt features. “After your uncle so heedlessly destroyed your father’s workshop, I sifted through what was left—and found enough remnants of his notes to start my own experiments. It has taken me centuries to re-create his work, to refine and distill various combinations of plants and minerals and water. To test my potions without arousing suspicion.”

  Hauk swore, sickened that his father’s work had led to more suffering and death. “How many people have you killed?”

  “Only a few utlending women.” Thorolf shrugged. “I am afraid that none of my wives over the years met a natural end. And a few other carefully chosen females had to be sacrificed, as well. A missing innfodt would have attracted too much attention and a great many questions, but what is one utlending more or less?” He kept the blade at Avril’s throat. “There are far too many of them in the world as it is. And they are inferior to us.” He stroked his hand down her arm. “Fragile, pitiful creatures.”

  Avril cringed and Hauk ruthlessly subdued the rage that shot through him, the protective urge that made him want to cross the deck and fasten his hands around Thorolf’s throat. “And what makes you think you have succeeded?” he challenged, trying to direct the whoreson’s attention away from Avril.