This was what we stood to lose if we couldn’t defeat the jötnar: this boy and all the others like him. My sisters—more innocents who would lose their lives to the giants if I didn’t stop them. I would think of them when I boarded a ship I’d always despised, when I journeyed far from Éirinn. They gave a face to the nameless destruction that awaited this land and its people if we failed.
In the distance, smoke from the still-smoldering castle rose to the sky. In this, at least, I had my revenge. Sigtrygg’s men had burned my church, but Leif’s men had burned his castle. It was just an unfortunate thing that the castle happened to be mine now.
“It was a mistake to burn the castle,” Leif said, as though voicing my own thoughts. “Now we’ll have to bed down in the stables for the night.”
As Leif spoke, one of his men slowed his mount until he was keeping pace with us. “We slept in the ships last night. Not all of the castle was burned. We only set fire to his throne room.”
“And what of the servants and Sigtrygg’s family?” I asked, spurring Sleipnir through the crowd. “You left them unharmed?”
“His son was one of the men who attacked us, so we killed him, but the servants are still alive. His wife pleaded for mercy, and we allowed her to take her belongings and leave the city.”
“His wife is the daughter of the High King,” I said to Leif, turning over the implications in my mind.
“Will it be a problem?” Leif asked.
“Each kingdom in Éirinn has autonomous rule, and we merely pay tribute to the High King. Sigtrygg and the king may have had an alliance, but a battle was fought fairly, and I was the victor,” I said. “By rights, his land is mine.” Even if the High King’s potential revenge was an issue, it was one for a later time. We had bigger problems to deal with now—like the jötnar potentially taking over the world.
By then our party had reached the castle courtyard, but unlike the last time Leif and I had been there, now there were no guardsmen at the gates. No servants rushed out to attend to us. The smoke, coming from the middle of the castle, wafted lazily toward the sky. The air was ripe with the smell of burned wood, and a much more pungent smell, one I was all too familiar with: charred flesh. My army spread out behind us once we came to a halt, and my gaze fell upon my father. As though he felt my stare, he turned his head, and our eyes met. An awareness burned in his once again, and I thought of his need for revenge.
“Where are the men who yielded during your battle?” I asked Arin.
“We threw them in the dungeon,” Arin said, pride over his accomplishments evident in the swell of his chest.
“I want all of them brought before me,” I said with a glance at my father. I couldn’t rest until I had dealt with them.
Leif nodded toward his men. “Erik, Oleif, bring one man before the queen at a time. It’s time they answered for their crimes.”
“I’ll go,” Arin said, but Leif held up his hand.
“You will stay,” Leif said, and Arin glared at his elder brother.
Erik and Oleif dismounted and strode toward the castle. It wasn’t long before they returned, each dragging a man in chains behind them.
Erik approached first with his captive, yanking him forward viciously, until the man stumbled and fell before Sleipnir. My horse’s ears immediately shot back. When he bared his sharp teeth threateningly, I placed a single hand on his neck.
Pale-faced and filthy, the man scurried backward out of the reach of Sleipnir, only to be forcefully stopped by Erik’s foot.
“Enough,” I said to both Erik and Sleipnir, who each seemed to wish harm upon the prisoner. I turned to the captive in the dirt. “Erik has brought you before me to give you a choice: swear fealty to me and join my army, or be executed for your attack against my allies.”
Shakily, the man stood and bowed his head. “I will gladly serve you, my queen.”
“I accept your fealty,” I said, “but as your queen, I must know, what part did you play in Sigtrygg’s attack on Mide?”
At the dark look in my eyes, the man began to shake anew. “I was only supposed to help the others take down Leif’s men here in the city,” he said, his eyes casting about as though unsure what the correct answer was. “We tried to ambush them, but they still defeated us.”
“And you never left Dubhlinn?”
“No, my queen,” he said, glancing back and forth fearfully between Leif and me.
“Remove his chains,” I said to Erik. “He will sail north with us.”
The man dropped forward with relief, and I waved the next captive forward. Unlike the first, this man did not shake or show fear of any kind. He was as tall as Leif and even bigger around. He met my gaze with defiance. I despised him on sight.
“Tell me of your involvement in Sigtrygg’s attack on Mide,” I said, my tone sharp.
“I killed people,” he said with a grin that was more the bearing of teeth.
Oleif strode forward and shoved the man in the back of the head so hard I could practically hear his neck snap. “Answer your queen properly.”
The captive narrowed his eyes. “I killed your people. Burned their church to the ground because they were too stupid to get out.”
As the sudden rage within me nearly took my breath away, there was a strange stirring behind me. The undead warriors had shifted as one, their focus now on the captive. My father moved toward him, his expression fierce.
“What was Sigtrygg’s plan?” Leif asked before I could respond.
His eye still warily on my father, the captive answered, “King Sigtrygg pretended to want a treaty with the king of Mide, and it was your father who invited us to his kingdom. But then, he didn’t expect us to arrive on the Lord’s day,” he said with a nasty sneer. “They were as easy to slaughter as lambs. Your father included,” he added, boldly meeting my gaze.
“Brave words for a man who is about to die,” I said, relaxing my hold on Sleipnir. He stalked forward menacingly. I drew my sword. “You have confessed to killing my clansmen, and for this, I will have justice.”
He stood unblinkingly before me, his eyes cold and unafraid. Had he worn the same unfeeling expression as he killed my family? Movement caught my attention, and I halted Sleipnir. My father had drawn level with me. He glanced up at me and freed his sword, determination evident in the set of his shoulders.
I would execute the man quickly by beheading, but I doubted any punishment my father had in mind would be as swift. As I looked at the condemned man, I could hear the screams of the two hundred dying men, burned alive.
“He is yours to do with as you will,” I said to my father.
There was no hesitation. He sped forward so quickly his movement was blurred, and I could only see the result: the captive’s entrails pooled at his feet. Beside me, Arin leaned over and was sick, and even my own stomach churned.
Even more disturbing was the silence that this gruesome display was carried out in. My father had uttered not a single sound, and he returned to his place among the other warriors just as quietly.
Based on my father’s reaction, it was clear the man had been the one to behead him, and some of my disgust was tempered by righteous anger. He deserved to die, and I would seek out every single one of the men who were instrumental in killing my clansmen.
As the blood continued to spill around the executed captive, I said grimly, “Bring forth the others.”
Four more men were executed, and twenty-two were added to our army. It seemed Sigtrygg had taken a small band of men to Mide, but it was only the first man who produced such a reaction in my father. I killed the rest myself, ending them swiftly. I couldn’t prevent Sleipnir from devouring their corpses, his unnatural behavior too disturbing even for Leif’s battle-hardened men. None had become sick at the sight like poor Arin, but they had left in a hurry, with the excuse that they needed to make final preparations on the ships. By the end, I wished I could escape the gruesome scene.
After our macabre tasks were done, I’d ordered th
e people who had been taken as slaves from my kingdom be found. Some were, but many had already been sold and taken far away. Each loss made me want to kill Sigtrygg all over again.
With so much to be done, darkness came much too soon and not soon enough. I was exhausted and longed for my bed at home in Mide with its warm furs and downy pillows. Here I would receive no such luxury. I spent my first night as queen bedded down in the stables. Though it was only the throne room and surrounding halls that had burned, the smell of smoke lingered, strong enough to cause our eyes to water ceaselessly. In contrast, the stall was warm, and the hay smelled sweet. In the past, I would’ve slept in the same stall as Sleipnir. But now not even I was willing to lose myself in vulnerable sleep beside a creature whose eyes glowed red in the darkness.
I tossed and turned, unable to find a position comfortable enough to rest. I missed Leif’s strong arms around me, the smell and feel of his soft fur mantle, the clear night sky above us. Without the excuse of acute grief and the lonely, cold nights on the run to push us into each other’s arms, we’d gone back to sleeping separately. But now I wondered why I thought it was necessary to maintain modesty—who was watching? Who would even care? Angry with myself now, I squeezed my eyelids shut . . . only to open them again at the sound of a boot rustling the straw of the stall.
Leif stood over me, his expression hopeful and sheepish both. He held his leather chest piece over his shoulder. My eyes swept over his muscular form, clearly revealed by his light linen tunic and leather leggings. “I couldn’t sleep,” he said, and lay down beside me as if he belonged there.
Pleasure bloomed within me at the thought that he had felt the same as I. I rolled to my side and met his heated stare. “I couldn’t either,” I admitted. “I’m nervous about this trip north.” He was quiet, so I kept talking. “I’ve never been anywhere but Éirinn, and I’ve never been on a ship—not even a fishing boat.” I rubbed my arm, feeling strangely vulnerable revealing such comparatively inconsequential fears. We’d faced far greater dangers. It felt silly to admit I was afraid of a wooden boat on the water.
He shifted so he was facing me. “I don’t want you to worry. The journey north is an easy one this time of year, and I’ve sailed it many times. But at the same time, I understand that sadness and fear of leaving your own land. I know how difficult this is for you, but I’m so happy you’re coming with me—that I can share the beauty of sailing in open water with you.”
His words made the tension in my muscles melt away. I trusted him, and if he said it would be okay, then it would be. “I’d like to share that with you, too.”
He touched my cheek, his thumb just barely brushing my lips. “I don’t know if I can hold to our agreement tonight, Princess. I want to kiss you. I want to do much more than that, but I wouldn’t want to tempt fate.”
Desire rose so quickly within me it became an aching need. Before I’d even formed a rational thought in my head, I leaned over him and pressed my lips to his. He pulled me closer until our chests were flush against each other. Our lips parted hungrily, his tongue meeting mine, setting my whole body aflame. My hands slipped beneath his tunic, and it wasn’t long before he sat up and pulled it over his head. His armor had hidden several tattoos. A skeletal dragon curled around his shoulder blade; both biceps were covered with beautifully intricate knotwork patterns; and across his back was a massive war hammer, encircled by chains and runes.
I drank in the sight of them, tracing each one with my fingertip. “These are so beautiful,” I said.
“I will tattoo every inch of my body if you’ll keep touching them like that.”
I smiled. “No scars to mar them. You’ve been victorious in battle—at least, until you met me.”
A growled laugh escaped him, and he pulled me down beneath him.
Our tongues met again as his hands swept over my body, leaving trails of fire everywhere he touched. He kissed me until we both panted for breath, until I could think of nothing but the steely hardness of his muscles, the fullness of his lips. My nails raked his back as he kissed the side of my neck. My feverish desire seemed to spread to Leif, until there was a desperation to our touches.
Suddenly, he pulled back, a pained look on his face. “What is it?” I asked, and the distance between us and cool night air seemed to bring me back to my senses.
“There’s something you should know,” Leif said, his mouth drawn in a grim line. “You asked me once what it was I traded to the Valkyrie for my power.”
My stomach twisted inside me. How could I have forgotten? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good, and I wanted to reach out with my hand and silence him before he could continue.
“I traded my life.”
I froze. I needed to know what he meant, but at the same time, I dreaded his answer. “What do you mean?”
I watched Leif swallow hard. He didn’t want to tell me. “The Valkyrie gave me the many abilities I would need to defeat Fenris and the other jötnar, but after I succeed, they will sacrifice me and take my soul to Valhalla.”
The roar of blood in my ears sounded like a river. “Why would you do such a thing?” I whispered finally, my mouth bone dry.
“I had to, and I would do it again. I care for you, Ciara—it’s why I told you the truth about this before we went any further—but there is nothing I wouldn’t do for revenge on the jötnar who took my sister from me.”
It was then that I realized two things: I cared for him, too—far too much. And I couldn’t watch him die.
A sob caught in my throat. Why bargain with his life? But even as I thought it, I knew I’d do the same.
“You should have told me before,” I said. Before you kissed me like that. Before I realized how much I—
I stood, suddenly desperate for escape. I couldn’t allow myself to think about this—not now. It had sneaked over me slowly, this caring . . . this depth of feeling for Leif. It was bad enough carrying such a burden when we were merely former enemies. It was something else entirely to know I felt this way about him and that he would be sacrificed at the end of our quest.
“Where are you going?” Leif asked as he watched me move toward the stall door.
Sensing my presence, Sleipnir’s head appeared atop his own stall door. He nickered to me softly in greeting. “For a ride,” I said.
After freeing Sleipnir from his stall, I pulled myself astride. I needed time away from Leif. Time to prepare myself for a voyage far from anything I’d ever known.
Time to lock my emotions away in a box where they belonged, lest they drag me under.
Sleipnir and I wandered throughout the city in shadow and darkness, our way lit only by moonlight. My mind tortured me with images of Leif dead in many different ways: torn apart by giants, felled by a sword, beheaded by the Valkyries. I felt sick and alone, and I hated myself for running away like that, but I couldn’t stay. My body still burned for him. I couldn’t just lie back down beside him as though nothing had happened, as if I hadn’t just learned we might succeed in our quest only to lose him.
For a while, I considered seeking out Sigrid to see if she would divine the same terrible fate for Leif. In the end, I decided to let her have her rest. I’d be on a ship with her soon, after all. I would train with her and grow stronger, and maybe that would be power enough to save him.
You don’t know that he can be saved, my mind reminded me painfully, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
That didn’t mean I planned to stand by and watch it happen.
After a time, the smells and sounds of the nearby sea called to me, and I guided Sleipnir toward the quay. The sound of waves lapping at five Northman ships greeted us, Sleipnir’s hooves falling on the wooden planks adding their own music. The dragonhead prows, illuminated in the soft light of the moon, gave the appearance of great slumbering sea monsters risen from the deep.
I pushed my thoughts of Leif aside and focused on the journey ahead.
With so many ships out of port, Dubhlinn would be left vulnerable. We
would need the lion’s share of men to come with us north, but some trusted men would need to stay behind to guard the city. Unfortunately, the only men I trusted aside from Leif were dead.
As I approached the ships, I expected feasting and raucous drinking from Leif’s men, but instead, all was quiet. I watched the wind toy with the ropes securing the currently deflated square sails. In the morning I would be aboard, nothing between me and the weather but the clothes on my back. I’d be on the largest ship, Leif’s own, with his brother and men. It would be uncomfortable, crowded, cold, and have a total lack of privacy. Even so, there was no turning back now.
A figure came toward us from Leif’s ship, interrupting my thoughts and pricking Sleipnir’s ears forward. As he drew closer, I recognized Arin.
“You couldn’t sleep either?” he asked, his face pale and his eyes excited.
“No,” I said. Looking at Arin’s earnest face, I realized he would know the men as well as Leif. “Arin, are there any men among you whom you trust?”
He looked momentarily taken aback, but pleased I had asked him such an important question. “Some of the best went with you and Leif to battle the jötnar,” he said, “but there are still many others who are trustworthy.”
“I’m in need of men who’ll remain here and hold Dubhlinn until I return.”
“Leif always said Erik and Oleif have the minds of chieftains,” Arin said. “They acted quickly in the attack against us while you were gone, and they commanded us well.”
I nodded thoughtfully. Erik and Oleif had also been quick to carry out Leif’s orders. They were both capable men, and I’d liked how Oleif had enforced respect of me from the captives. But they couldn’t hold the city on their own. Ideally, we would leave behind a small battalion, but I wasn’t sure how many Leif could spare. It would be best if one of Sigtrygg’s captured men remained behind to give the Northmen guidance. Mentally, I sorted through the men I’d interrogated.
“Have you had contact with the remainder of Sigtrygg’s men?” I asked Arin.
Beyond a Darkened Shore Page 22
