DEBTS (Vinlanders' Saga Book 3)

by Frankie Robertson

  “No. Oh, no,” she cried softly as she leaned into his wound with both hands.

  Not the words a man wanted to hear the first time a woman beheld his naked self. Yet they only confirmed Aren’s suspicion.

  “Is it a mortal wound, or will I merely lose the leg?” he grated out as pain tore through his body.

  Annikke didn’t look at him. “You won’t lose the leg.”

  He was going to die, then. This was not the fate he’d imagined for himself, but at least he’d fallen in combat. It was an honorable end, not like his father’s, but Tandra would still be fatherless.

  “Benoia, help me!” Annikke pressed harder against his groin and the agony of it tore a scream from his throat. He would have preferred to pass out, but the gods were not so generous. Warmth spread out from where Annikke was touching him, and he prayed to Thor that he hadn’t pissed himself.

  Movement drew his eye. Another archer had drawn his bow, his shaft aimed at Annikke, or possibly Benoia. Before Aren could shout a warning, the arrow flew.

  “No!”

  But Annikke’s chest didn’t sprout an arrowhead. Another shaft knocked the first from its path, and buried itself deeply in the trunk of a tree.

  Oblivious, Annikke murmured words in a musical language, while Benoia, pale and shaking, stood behind her, gripping Annikke’s shoulders as she put pressure on the slice in his flesh. The warmth in his groin spread throughout his body. Aren’s pain throbbed in time with his speeding heart, gradually subsiding to a monstrous ache.

  Aren wasn’t sure if minutes or only seconds had passed when Annikke sat back on her heels, dropping her blood drenched hands into her lap. She blinked for a moment as though she couldn’t quite focus.

  Norva spoke from behind him. “Gods, that’s a lot of blood! Will he live?”

  Aren sat up and wrapped Annikke’s fingers in his own. “Are you all right?”

  Annikke took a moment before she came back to herself, then her gaze met his. “How do you feel?”

  “I asked you first,” he countered with half a grin, then he sobered. “I find myself unexpectedly alive, thanks to you.”

  “Good,” Annikke said with a nod.

  Behind her, Benoia plopped down gracelessly, wrapping her arms around herself as if she were cold.

  Annikke slipped out of her pack’s straps and helped Benoia to do the same before finding her cloak and draping it over the younger woman’s shoulders. “Norva, would you build a fire? We won’t be continuing today.”

  “Wait,” Aren protested, starting to get to his feet. “We shouldn’t stay here. How many of them were there, anyway?”

  Norva easily pushed him back down with a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. If the Healer says you need to stay put, that’s what we’re going to do.”

  Vali came into view. “I count four dead, plus this one tied up by the weeds. Three arrow shot and one, well, I don’t know what happened to him. ”

  Aren jerked his head up, looking for the archer whose arrow had been deflected in mid-flight. The woods were empty. “One of them got away. An archer.” He pointed. “He shot from over there.”

  Norva nodded and trotted over to the spot where the man had taken aim. Then she disappeared into the trees.

  “I’ll build the fire,” Vali said, and suited action to words.

  Annikke sat next to Benoia and cuddled the shivering woman close.

  “Is she all right?” Aren asked.

  “She always gets the shakes after, a, uh, healing.”

  “But not you?”

  Annikke shook her head. “No. I’m fine. Just tired.” She looked where Aren had pointed, then followed the probable trajectory back to Aren. “Why isn’t one of us dead?”

  Norva reappeared and said, “Maybe his shot went wide. When I last saw him, he was running for his life. Something scared the piss out of him.”

  “That’s what scared him.” Aren indicated the arrow buried deeply in a tree to his left. “He saw the archer that let fly that shaft.” The arrow, what stood out from the trunk, was smooth and straight, and fletched with purple feathers striped with gold. He’d seen that fletching before, when Torlon had saved his life with another impossible shot.

  “Elves!” Annikke said.

  “What?” Norva exclaimed.

  Aren lifted his brows. He shouldn’t be surprised that she recognized the fletching. It was fairly obvious that Torlon’s brother, Gaelon, was the Elf she’d once encountered. Why else would he concern himself with her welfare? Actually, why would he? Aren shook his head. That was a question not likely to ever be answered.

  Vali’s head came up as he brought the small fire to flame. His expression was alight with interest. “Elves?”

  Annikke stood and shouted, “Come out! Show yourselves!” Her voice shook with anger. “Stop skulking in the shadows!”

  “Whoa! Whoa!” Norva put a hand lightly over Annikke’s mouth. “If there are Elves lurking, and I’d guess you would know, let them stay hidden! I don’t want to return Lord Vali to his mother Fey-marked.”

  Annikke swept Norva’s hand aside, and the Daughter of Freya tried to put a restraining hand on Annikke’s arm.

  Norva wasn’t being rough, but Aren didn’t like her trying to force her will on Annikke. “Let her be,” he commanded. “Not every encounter with the Elves results in Fey-marking.”

  Norva, Vali, Benoia, and Annikke all turned wide eyes on him.

  Frigga’s fanny. Now he’d stepped in it. “No harm will come to Vali. Not from these Elves.”

  “You seem rather sure of that,” Norva said.

  “He’s right,” a voice said from the shadows. A moment later Gaelon and Torlon emerged from the forest’s shadows. “We mean none of you any harm.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Annikke glared, meeting Gaelon’s gaze. It had been five years since she’d last seen him. Five years since he’d said he’d leave her in peace.

  “Hello, Annikke.” He hadn’t changed a whit. He still appeared to be the same careless youth who had stolen her so many years ago. He came closer, moving with such grace that he seemed to hardly touch the ground, and reached out to touch Benoia.

  Annikke put out a hand to stop him, and Gaelon paused. “The magic is warring with her Talent. Let me help her.”

  Annikke hesitated, then nodded.

  Gaelon laid his hand on Benoia’s head and murmured briefly in that beautiful language that stirred a whisper of longing in Annikke’s breast and made her heart clutch with fear. It wasn’t healthy to hunger after something so other. She almost wished they hadn’t given back her memories five years ago. She’d seen great beauty while among the Elves, but she did not want to return to live with them.

  Benoia stopped shaking, and looked up with a steady gaze as the Elf stepped back. “Thank you,” she said.

  Gaelon smiled. “You’re most welcome. You should be able to use the healing magic now without it harming you. But little one, you must be wary. It wasn’t meant to harm.”

  “The first time it just happened. But even if I could have stopped it, what else could I have done? Should I have let him—”

  “No. Never that,” Gaelon said. “You have done harm thus far only in great need, but each time you do, it will grow easier. Use the magic to harm often, and it will eat your soul.”

  Tears welled and cascaded down Benoia’s cheeks. “I know. I felt it.” She inhaled a shuddering breath. “A part of me liked it,” she whispered.

  The Elf nodded solemnly. “You’re strong. But be very, very careful from now on.”

  Annikke knelt and pulled Benoia into a hug. “Oh, sweetling.”

  “Are we forgiven?” Gaelon asked.

  Annikke looked up into the Elf’s face and sighed. Had she thought him unchanged from their first encounter? She’d been wrong. “For saving my life? For healing Benoia? Yes. I’m not so bitter I’d cast blame on you for that.”

  Gaelon’s expression brightened. “Excellent! Thank
you.”

  “Now that that’s settled,” the other Elf said, “will you introduce us to your other companions?”

  “No!” Norva said.

  “Yes,” said Vali.

  Annikke glanced from the Daughter of Freya to the young lord. She understood Norva’s fear and her desire to keep Vali safe, but it was too late for that, now. “Lord Vali, may I present to you Gaelon and—I don’t know your name, sir,” she said to the other Elf.

  The Fey half-bowed over a hand spread on his breast. “Torlon. A pleasure to meet you, Lord Vali.”

  Vali contained his excitement enough to bow the same amount in return. “I’m honored to meet representatives of our hosts here in Alfheim. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  Torlon, whom Annikke thought was the elder of the two, bowed again at Vali’s courtesy.

  Norva said nothing when she was introduced. She made a slight choking noise, and barely nodded her acknowledgement.

  “And this is Aren. He’s escorting me and Benoia to Quartzholm.”

  “We meet again, Aren.”

  He’s had dealing with the Elves before? She’d suspected so from his earlier words, but he’d said nothing of it. Most people wouldn’t, of course. But that didn’t stop her from feeling slighted. He knew about her, after all.

  Aren glanced quickly at Annikke as if to gage her reaction. Was that a glimmer of guilt in his eye? Then he inclined his head to Torlon.

  “Welcome. Once again I am indebted to you for your prowess with the bow. What price will you ask of me this time?”

  “Nonsense. There is no debt. I had no other target worthy of my skill,” Torlon said with a slight smile playing about the corners of his mouth. “Or permitted to me, for that matter.”

  Aren sighed. “As you say.”

  Torlon’s smile widened. “Indeed.”

  “And the archer who provided your target?” Aren asked. “Will he trouble us again, do you think?”

  “Unlikely. He seemed disinclined to make our acquaintance.”

  Aren nodded. “Good. Let’s hope he continues to feel that way. It’s just as well you don’t desire payment for another debt; I’ve done a poor job of paying the last one.”

  Torlon’s smile faded and he glanced at Annikke. His close perusal of her made her want to squirm, but she held still and lifted her chin.

  “What debt?” she asked.

  “How so?” Torlon asked at the same time. “Annikke is alive and seems well.”

  “No thanks to me,” Aren answered. “Norva and her companions saved her the first time these Loki’s Snot came calling. You saved her this time.”

  Keeping me safe was payment for a debt to the Elves? Why? And how does that fit with his duty to the Jarl?

  “That’s true,” Gaelon said. “It was your shot that saved her, Torlon. His debt remains unpaid.”

  “No, it doesn’t!” Annikke objected. Whatever his faults, Aren shouldn’t be tied to the Elves. No one should. “He was hunting at my request when those men came two days ago. Vali’s in Emergence and needed food. Aren couldn’t know we’d be in danger while he was gone. And he did save my life just now. He saw the archer before his first arrow flew and pulled me out of the way.”

  “And then, because you were busy saving my life, you and Benoia exposed yourselves to more danger!” Aren lifted his hands and raised his voice.

  “Why are you diminishing your role in this?” Annikke shouted back. “If you hadn’t spotted him, that bowman would have taken us unawares.”

  “Enough,” Torlon said, a smirk twisting the corner of his mouth. “Annikke’s need for protection still exists and you’re yet a day from Quartzholm. There is ample opportunity for you to satisfy your debt.”

  “And why, exactly, do you want him to protect me?” Annikke demanded.

  “Because he wouldn’t go home and let us do it,” Gaelon said.

  “That’s not an answer,” Annikke snapped. Had the Elves always been so slippery with their explanations? “Why would you want to? Our dealings are done. You paid your debt to me five years ago.”

  Gaelon looked at Torlon who lifted a brow. “The payment of my debt to you has brought you yet more grief.”

  Torlon nodded. “His debt to you is greater today than it was five summers ago.”

  “That’s nonsense!” Annikke said.

  “You’d be happier if Sveyn had raped me because I couldn’t defend myself?” Benoia demanded sharply.

  “At least his injury wouldn’t be on our heads,” Torlon answered.

  Benoia took a swift step forward and slapped the Elf. “It’s not on your head you smug, self-involved little weasel! It’s on mine! I shriveled Sveyn’s miserable little cock. You can run back to wherever you came from with a clear conscience. It’s my fault that Annikke has been driven from her home.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence as Annikke and the others took in the fact that Benoia had offered violence to one of the Fey. Tears coursed down the girl’s cheeks but she seemed unaware of them. Annikke rose and put her arms around her foster-daughter. “Please forgive her. She’s endured so much these last days. She didn’t mean—”

  Torlon smiled ruefully, rubbing the side of his face. “It is forgotten. Compared to the blow an Elf maiden would deliver, it was a caress.”

  Then Norva said, “You’re wrong, Benoia. Sveyn’s injury isn’t on your head, it’s on his own.”

  “That’s a lovely sentiment, and I appreciate the thought, but Lord Tholvar is still after us,” Benoia said in a tone that suggested that Norva had missed an obvious point.

  “Thus your need for protection,” Gaelon said. “And whether or not your action was justified, you could not have taken it but for me and the magic I gave you. I share responsibility.”

  “Wonderful. You can come to Quartzholm and tell Lord Dahleven that,” Annikke snapped. “But Aren won’t be traveling for several days. I did my best, but his injury needs time to heal.”

  Again the Elves exchanged a glance. “That’s something we can help with, if you will allow it,” Gaelon asked Aren.

  Annikke saw the struggle on his face, and knew he didn’t want to be any more indebted to the Fey than he already was.

  When he spoke, Aren’s tone was resigned. “It wouldn’t be prudent to camp here in the forest while I recover enough to travel. That archer might rediscover his courage. In the interest of being better able to protect Annikke and Benoia, and of seeing them safely to Quartzholm as soon as possible, I accept your offer.”

  Torlon chuckled. “Yes, of course. This won’t incur new obligation. We do it only to assist you in paying your debt.”

  Gaelon knelt beside Aren. Annikke watched and listened carefully as the Elf put his hands over the wound. With the Elves’ unexpected arrival, no one, not even Aren, had thought to cover his nakedness. His spilt blood had congealed and dried on his muscular thigh, and now that she wasn’t concerned with saving his life, Annikke couldn’t help notice his exposure, seeing him as a man rather than a patient. Even as a healer, she’d seen few men’s privates. Feeling her face flood with heat, she looked away and met Norva’s gaze. The older woman waggled her eyebrows in appreciation.

  Annikke had never played the casual love games of youth. None of the village boys had wanted to test their luck with a Fey-marked girl, so she didn’t know if Aren was exceptional or not. Norva seemed to think so, however.

  Then the Elf began murmuring in his song-like tongue and Norva lost her smirk as she blanched and turned away, muttering a soft curse and a prayer for protection. Annikke smiled. At least the other woman wasn’t staring at Aren’s cock anymore.

  A few minutes later Gaelon sat back. “You’ll be sore, but you can safely travel to Quartzholm now. We should move away from this place of death. Have you another pair of trews?”

  Aren grimaced. “Nay. I didn’t think I’d have need.”

  “I can mend them,” Annikke said, “but I’ll not be able to get the blood out of them.”


  Aren swore. “I don’t welcome the comments that will come of walking into Quartzholm with my crotch drenched in blood.”

  Torlon laughed. “I can help with that. I’ll put a bit of glamor on them that will last long enough for you to change. No one will be alarmed on that score.”

  “You’re coming with us to Quartzholm?” Vali asked, the eagerness plain in his voice.

  “We’ll see you safe to only to the edge of the village,” Torlon said to Norva, who had an alarmed expression. “We don’t want to call your sanity into question,” he finished with wry tone.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Aren watched Annikke plying her needle on the slashes in his trews. When their group moved, they left the one man still living held fast to the ground by the weeds. The Elves had reinforced Annikke’s command, but they said he’d work his way free by the next day. Torlon had leaned close to the man’s face and warned him of the danger of pursuing them too closely.

  Their attacker had wet his pants.

  The dead they’d left like Outcasts, lying untended on the ground where they’d fallen. The Elves refused to spend a moment’s time on men who’d tried to kill Annikke and Benoia, and Aren felt much the same, even though one of those men was dead because of him.

  Aren turned the thought over in his mind. A man would not return to his family because Aren’s arrow had found its mark. He’d never killed a man before, and he didn’t much like the feeling. But he couldn’t wish he’d done otherwise. Annikke and Benoia’s lives had been in peril.

  It was still light when they’d made a new camp, and Annikke had bent to the task of mending his clothing. Aren imagined her sewing in a rocking chair in front of a cozy fire in his cottage. Head bent over her work, she was unmindful of the silver strands that had come loose from her braid. He wanted to tuck them behind her ear, much as he would have with Tandra.

  No, not at all like he would with his daughter. He wanted to brush Annikke’s hair back and kiss the delicate ear he’d expose, and on down her neck to her collarbone, and then lay her down on his bed and wrap himself around her. He wanted to feel the silver beauty of her hair trailing over his skin, and tease her nipples with the soft tail of her own braid.