“It’s ok,” he sniffled. “It wasn’t that bad. I’ve been hit worse. What’s bad is they kept going and going and they weren’t going to stop till I told them something, so I told them about the people in the woods.”
“What people?”
“There’s a man and a woman out there. I seen them a couple of times. So I told the men that they were there and they said maybe it was the brother and Bassi said he’d had enough of brothers but they left anyway to go see.”
Disa’s attention sharpened. “They said maybe it was the brother? Did they say anything else?”
“Just that they were done catching people. They said they were going to kill whoever they saw and take them back to camp to see if they were the right person. The right brother.”
“They didn’t say what brother? Finn’s brother or maybe my brother?”
“No, not your brother. I don’t think they’re looking for you actually.”
“What makes you say that?”
“They’re looking for the Jarl’s wife, Elydis, and her brother. You’re just Disa, right? Finn isn’t your brother, he’s your husband, right?” Disa’s stomach fell. Rurik had introduced her as Elydis. Maybe the men looking really didn’t know she went by Disa.
It could be Roe in the woods.
Or they could just be looking for Rurik’s brother, for Finn.
Or it could be Roe...
She had to go. The chance was slim, but she had to go. She’d never forgive herself otherwise. “I’ll go.” He stared at her, his expression conflicted. “I’ll follow them and I’ll make sure no one gets hurt.”
“What about Finn?”
Disa was already shoving her overdress back into her bag. “You’ll tell him where I went. Tell him exactly what you told me. He’ll understand. He’ll catch up with me.” She stopped in front of him. “You can do that, right? You can tell him what you told me?”
He’d stopped crying and was looking at her with a mixture of admiration and bravery. “I’ll tell him.”
“The moment he gets back.” The boy nodded. “He’s going to be so mad,” Disa said to herself. She didn’t have time to think about it or second-guess herself though.
Helga pushed through the door and frowned at them both. “You should have barred--what are you doing?”
Disa kissed the boy hard on the forehead as she swung her satchel back over shoulder. “Don’t be afraid. Tell him. The second he gets back, tell him.”
“I will,” he promised.
Helga gasped. “What did he say?”
“Don’t worry about the people in the woods. We’ll find them.” Disa kissed him once more and then she was shoving passed Helga and out the door.
“Where are you going?” she called after her.
“Thank you, Helga. For everything. I will repay you one day, I promise!” Disa yelled, her legs already picking up speed as she galloped down the hill towards the mercenaries’ camp to pick up their trail.
Finn was going to be mad.
“That’s it?” Finn asked as he knelt with the old man by the water.
“That’s it?” the old man frowned. “That’s it? That’s genius, that is! Learned from my father who learned from his father. My family has always been the best fishers in the south.”
“But it’s so…” Finn struggled for the right words as he looked at the shallow tide pools chock full of fat fish. “Easy,” he finally managed.
“That’s why it’s genius! And it’s not always so easy. Sometimes you walk miles and miles before you find a good pool. And I know each one. It’s all up here,” he whispered conspiratorially, tapping his head.
Finn laughed thinking of how aggravated Helga would be if she ever found out the truth. “Now what?” he asked, his hand in the water trailing over the slimy flesh.
“Well, we’ve found the fishes, now we enjoy the day.” He leaned back against rocks and closed his eyes, smiling broadly and tugging on his beard.
Finn looked around at the rocky, salt-stained shore, the diving seabirds, and the quiet rasping of the ocean. It really was a beautiful day. He liked it here. He liked the people, liked the simple work. He was a commander and he was good at what he did, but he didn’t love war, not the way he should, not anymore. He wasn’t afraid of it, but a few days here made him wonder what life could be: drinking with friends, helping his neighbors, fishing...kissing his wife. Ay, he liked his wife, too. Liked her best of this life. Loved her best.
He closed his eyes and turned his face to the sun, thinking of the look on her face when he’d taken her hand, when he’d taken her mouth. He’d rationalized it quickly, telling himself that the mercenaries were so close to leaving, that they needed to play the part well for just a few hours more and they could get back to real life. She’d been so near he couldn’t resist. A moment of excuses was all he needed. He didn’t think about it, didn’t question it, he just did it. And she’d kissed him back. She’d drawn him closer when he would have pulled away. He’d made everything unbearably complicated, but he couldn’t regret it. And here under the sun, beside an empty shore, it didn’t seem so tangled. He was just a man who buried cheese, chased sheep, and loved his wife. There was nothing complicated there.
But Finn wasn’t a simple man, he was a soldier, and with the sound of skittering pebbles close behind him, he was on his feet with sword in hand before he knew what he was doing. The boy stopped abruptly and lost his footing. Finn cringed at having pulled a weapon on a child and sheathed it immediately. “Careful when you sneak up on a man,” he said kindly. “I think Disa was looking for your earlier…” he trailed off, squinting closer at the boy’s red face, covered in sweat and a few nasty cuts. “What happened?”
The old man stirred and blinked in surprise at the sudden intruder. “How’d you find me?” he stuttered. “Don’t you go telling tales! This is my job and I’m keeping it!”
The boy spared him the briefest of glances before turning his attention back on Finn. He was shaking, Finn noticed, and gulping at the air. “What is it, what’s wrong?” It might be foolish to demand an answer from a mute, but Finn felt his stomach flip. Something had happened.
“Disa,” the boy choked.
Finn didn’t wait to hear more, didn’t stop to wonder at the boy’s sudden voice. He took off, sprinting along the shore, sand flying behind him, terrifying the fish as he thundered through the tidal pools. The boy was behind him, his short legs slapping against the wet ground at twice the rate of Finn’s as he tried to keep up.
“Bassi hurt me, she found me,” he gasped. “They were trying to make me tell about you but I told them about the people in the woods instead.”
How did I get down here? Finn stopped suddenly, whipping his head back and forth. Which way, which way.
“Here,” the boy puffed as he tried to scramble up a shallow break in the steep embankment. “It’s faster.”
Now standing behind him, faced with the boy’s bare bloodied back covered in more cuts than he could count, Finn realized what he had said. He was injured. The boy was clawing at the dirt, tears in his eyes, his arms and legs shaking like mad, and Finn cursed himself for the second time in as many minutes. “Wait,” he commanded as he scooped him up and finished the climb one handed. The boy slouched against him in exhaustion.
“They’re looking for her brother.”
Finn felt his stomach lurch again. “What?”
“They were talking about brothers looking for brothers. I told her and she said she had to follow them. That you would catch up.”
Finn squeezed his eyes shut. This was his fault. He should have told her what Rurik said. He should have told her that her brother was dead. Dead trying to rescue Finn’s brother, no less. “When did she leave?”
The boy’s eyes were closed and he shook his head. “It was hard to find you. She’s going to protect the people.”
“Did she have a sword?” The boy was barely conscious but he had to know. “Stay awake just a little longer.”
“That’s good,” Finn soothed as he picked his way back to town as fast as he could. “You did good.” He was sick with panic and it was making him inattentive. Twice he’d made a wrong turn. He wasn’t thinking rationally. He wasn’t considering his moves. By the time he encountered a puffing Helga as she trudged the best she could over the terrain, too much time had passed.
Helga grabbed the child from his arms. “No more running off,” Helga admonished through tears.
“You have him?” Finn asked, silently begging her to release him.
Helga nodded, her eyes closed as she clutched the boy to her heaving chest. “Go.”
It was the only encouragement he needed. Finn ran.
He was going to kill her. That’s all there is to say. He was going to strangle her himself if she wasn’t already dead. Finn stopped for what seemed like the twentieth time that day and bent over another set of tracks, ignoring the stitch in his side. These were a confused mess, too. He pushed down the urge to draw his sword and attack a nearby bush, forcing himself to concentrate instead.
It was so straightforward at the start. That should have been his first warning that everything was about to fall apart. The mercenaries’ tracks from town had been easy to spot, and after a search off the main path, he’d found Disa’s as well. He’s started running at the sort of steady pace that would defeat the average man, confident he’d catch up with her sooner rather than later. When she’d curved away from main road he’d nearly missed it.
“What are you doing,” he’d asked aloud to no one before he saw it. Before he saw proof of his worst fears realized. There had been a struggle, the ground disturbed and branches broken, and Disa’s footsteps had shifted from light and sneaky to deep and fast as she tore away in the opposite direction. She’d found someone or something she shouldn’t have and judging by how impossible the rest of this day was turning out to be, they’d seen her too. He’d been trying to follow her path but it kept getting crossed and confused, the tracks running over each other or diverging, and at some point horses had gotten involved. And arrows. He yanked the shaft from the trunk of the tree and ran his finger over the sharp edge. There was blood on this. Not a lot, but some. The blood itself didn’t worry Finn so much as the fact it’d become sticky and mostly dry. He was too far behind. One step forward, two steps back.
He pushed on resolutely, looking not just for imprints in the ground or damage to the vegetation, but for a blood trail that would indicate an arrow had found its mark. When he reached the stream, he was about ready to scream. Terrific. Water leaves excellent tracks, he thought wryly.
Finn covered his face with his hands and tried to consider his options. He could keep zigzagging through the undergrowth or he could get back to the main path and follow it further away from town. Chances are the men would have continued on their way whether they lost her or captured her, and either way he’d find her with them, in their camp or lurking outside it to be sure. Then he’d kill her. He was definitely going to kill her.
Finn could hear the dull roar of the ocean nearby and knew he must be close to the cliff’s edge, knew the stream probably only went so far before it fell into a pool or another stream. Figuring he might as well search what little was left of the area that he’d yet to cover, he started to climb the bank but stopped abruptly when he saw it. Blood. He felt sick. Finn was no stranger to blood, but this could be hers. She could have realized there was nothing but a steep fall in this direction and turned only to find herself with a belly full of arrows. That image in Finn’s mind was too terrible; he had to follow.
Finn doubled back, any sign of Disa obliterated by the hooves that had torn into the ground. His earlier thought proved right, however, and eventually loose dirt and smears of red led back to the path. Finn had half a mind to thunder up it, heedless of disguising his presence. He’d certainly move faster if he didn’t have to pick through the wilderness that ran alongside the road. He sighed to himself and stayed off the path. He could do her more harm than good if they saw him coming. It was the right thing to do. And Finn always did the right thing.
Finn swallowed the memory of her hands on his face, her fingers in his hair, and moved on.
The afternoon was beginning to fade into evening and Finn prayed she’d found somewhere safe. He was thirsty and tired but he knew from experience that he could push himself another twenty hours at least before the fatigue would begin to interfere with his mind. He would keep going, however long it took.
“I don’t understand,” said a voice suddenly. Finn crouched low and made his dagger at the ready. “Why’d I have to stay behind? I’m not the one that killed her.”
Finn felt his limbs go numb, his nerves demanding he move. He crept forward almost sloppily, half hoping the men would hear him and attack. “It don’t matter you didn’t kill no one, you got the horse shot. You know how mad they get when you cost them money. The right question is why I had to stay with you.”
“Cause you ain’t caught no one yet.”
“You ain’t caught no one.”
“Ay, but I would’ve, if she hadn’t died.”
“I don’t think that counts.”
He’d gotten close enough to see them now. Bassi’s men were sitting at the crossroads, their swords thrown lazily to the side. They’d clearly been waiting for some time and had grown complacent, though truth be told they’d never exhibited much sense before. It would be an easy kill.
“I don’t think he’s coming back this way,” one of them sighed, scanning the brush where Finn was concealed but seeing nothing.
“Even if he came back, he’d shoot us before we could get him.”
“I’m starting to think that might’ve been the idea.”
“If Bassi wanted to kill us, he’d do it himself.”
“Ay,” the other grunted in agreement. “Suppose so.”
Finn positioned himself to charge, sure he could do the job with just the small blade in his hand. It couldn’t be Disa that had died. It couldn’t be. He didn’t need to kill them but he found he wanted to, very much.
“Did you see the other girl, the one Bassi threw over his horse?”
The man smiled widely, his blackened teeth glowing green in the setting sun. “Ay. And a tempting sight she made, too, swung over the beast like she was.”
“Ay. I nearly reached out and squeezed that rump when they passed.”
“Bassi definitely would’ve killed you then,” he laughed croakily, his partner joining in.
Finn sat back on his heel. A girl has been caught. That was Disa. She’s not dead, she’s captured. Finn clung to the notion, the strange buzzing in his ears subsiding, and willed the men to say something, anything, about where Bassi went.
“Let’s go back.”
That’ll do, Finn thought as he sheathed his dagger once again.
His partner agreed, and they began meandering down the right fork of the crossroad, stretching and yawning and complaining about their empty stomachs.
They were easy prey to stalk: they stomped along loudly, their arms swinging and voices raised, completely inattentive to their surroundings. Finn would be offended at their ineptitude if it didn’t serve him so well just now. They were slow at first, so Finn found himself moving ahead of them, looking for signs of a camp, doubling back occasionally to make sure the men hadn’t veered off the path.
When they finally reached the camp, Finn was taken aback. A blind man would have seen it. It sprawled across the road and filled the large clearing on either side of it. Three huge tents were erected at its center, tall and bright and more ostentatious than Finn had seen outside of his travels east. There were some smaller tents, too, and bedrolls gathered close to the dozens of small fires being lit, smoke hanging low over the entire scene. This is an army. Finn was looking at the men who’d committed the massacre. He knew it.
It probably wouldn’t be wise to kill Bassi and his men, Finn thought regretfully. He’d have to settle for rescuing the girl. Finn kept to the edge of things, more difficult than he would have liked. The woods were swarming with men or signs of men, and everywhere Finn walked, he felt sure he was moments away from discovery.
The setting sun finally proved to be in his best interest. The smell of cooking meats filled the air and the woods began to empty of bored soldiers as they congregated together close to the fires, beginning to drink in earnest. The only people still flying about were the servants and thralls, readying food for their masters in the tents. And there were only two people on the islands with such a large contingent of slaves: the Brothers.
Roe and Grim were right. Murderers and thieves in fancy garb. And they’d slept under his roof, eaten their food, drank with his brother. Kidnapped his brother. Finn felt a bloodlust boiling inside him, but this wasn’t a battle and he had no men around him now.
Finn sat outside the circle of light that marked the thralls kitchen, watching as they turned spits and ran food and drink into the grand tents. If he could get one on their own, he might be able to bribe them for information.
He was contemplating if he could stomach threatening the slave if a bribe didn’t work when a woman gasped behind him. Finn whirled around on his heels, his sword drawn, and the woman dropped the bucket she’d been carrying, water splashing them both. They stared at each other in tense silence. Finn didn’t recognize her but she seemed to know him. She took a step back, then another, and Finn raised his free hand and lowered his sword. “Wait. Please wait. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She narrowed her eyes and considered him. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
“Am I?” he asked, pretending to think it over, trying to put her at ease. “No one told me.”
“Are you here for your brother then?”
The question had thrown him and he stood staring at her. His brother. For fuck’s sake, his brother was here. He looked over his shoulder at the figures moving in the semi-darkness. He’d thought only of her.
Blood and Loyalty: A Viking Blood Romance Novel Page 17
