Desire's Fury (Viking's Fury Book 2)
Page 2
These were the concerns her mother voiced every day. Words that made Eva doubt herself. And her two brothers never let her forget it.
She gazed heavenward, the clear nighttime sky as inviting as a hot spring on a winter night. What she’d give to fly with the ravens or eagles—to reach the gods and her ancestors. Any creature without wings didn’t know true freedom.
She sighed, then sat down on her reindeer skin contemplating where she’d seek more hvonn tomorrow, an herb that cured coughs and sore throats. Several of the elders in her village had been struck by the same sickness recently.
Tired, she curled up on her side, wrapping the warm fur over her body. Just as her eyes started to close, she heard a noise—possibly an animal trudging through the nearby trees—or a stranger. She trusted all beasts, but not people. Unwilling to take a chance, she reached for the knife she kept tucked in her leather boot. The fire would keep animals away, but if a man came too close…
Though her brother, Markkos, had taught her how to wield a blade, she never liked the idea of killing. It went against everything she believed in. Her hands were meant for healing.
“What if I were a bear? Or a moose ready to trample you to death?”
She squeezed her eyes shut, relieved to hear Markkos’s voice, yet irritated by his intrusion. “Why did you follow me again?” she asked, sitting up. “Have I not begged for you to give me this time alone?”
He stood on the other side of the fire, his green leather gákti decorated with a black belt embellished with square silver buttons that meant he was a married man. “And risk losing you?”
His concern didn’t come from the heart. Markkos wanted to marry her off to a wealthy farmer in exchange for several superior reindeer to expand his own herd.
“I refuse to accept him as a husband,” she said. “And Mother would never agree to me leaving our village.”
He laughed. “If you were going to be the next noaidi, you wouldn’t be sleeping on the ground in the middle of nowhere seeking herbs to cure runny noses.”
“Or those blisters you got after bedding that woman from…”
“Enough,” he snarled, obviously disinterested in recalling one of the many times she’d saved him from his wife’s bad temper. “I am entitled to check on you whenever I wish, Eva. It is my duty.”
“Maybe if you didn’t stray from your wife’s bed and concentrated on having children, you’d find your own life more fulfilling.”
They’d never shared a close relationship, but were always honest with each other. Something Eva valued dearly.
“Are you hungry?” she asked, reaching for her leather bag. “There’s bread and cheese, and even some milk left in my skin.” She patted the open space on her pallet. “Join me.”
He rounded the fire pit, then sat next to her. “What comfort do you find out here? No woman I know prefers the outdoors over the safety of her own home.”
“The earth speaks to me in ways you wouldn’t understand.”
“But not the spirits?” He bit off a chunk of bread and chewed.
“No,” she regrettably admitted. “But the trees and rocks, even the stars above, call to me. I am filled with joy. If I could stay here forever, I would.”
His dark eyes met hers. “Father would have disapproved.”
“He’s gone,” she reminded him. “Claimed by the drink as our uncles both were.”
The men in her family had a weakness for ale and mead—even fermented milk.
“But not forgotten,” he said. “It’s my duty to protect you and it’s your responsibility to wed a man who can add to our wealth.”
“Your wealth,” she emphasized.
He ran his fingers through his cropped hair. “Why do you continuously defy me? Disagree with me on everything?”
“Need you ask, Brother?’ She waited for an answer, but none came. “Because you try to take advantage of everyone. What do I gain if I marry Iisku?”
“You’ve visited his home. Tended his herd. Seen his servants. They eat and dress better than anyone in our siida. I want the same for you, little sister. Our mother deserves to rest. Her hands are weak and withered; her bones brittle. Whenever she stoops to examine a child or beast, she groans. Have you not heard her cry out in pain? Or do you ignore it to feel better?”
The idea of him thinking her so selfish made her sad. “I am not deaf or blind. Her hands are swollen most days. Who do you think massages them at night? Gives her draughts to ease the pain? Sings her to sleep on the nights she cannot bear to lay down for fear of not being able to rise in the morning?”
Markkos studied her. “Forgive me,” he said softly. “I only wanted to test your loyalty. Our place is in the mountains, not here in the lowlands amongst the Vikings.”
Though the Sami traded regularly with the Norse, there seemed to be a lingering distrust between them. “Speak for yourself. Why do you build fishing vessels to suit their needs if you think of them as enemies?”
“For coin.”
She rolled her eyes. “There is more to life than filling your house with gold.” But he’d never agree.
Markkos cared too much about the way he looked, the clothes he wore, and the food he ate. He preferred dressing his wife in linen and silk over wool and leather. And the only way to keep his house stocked with such luxuries was to continue providing boats and other items the Norse wanted.
“I must sleep now.” She yawned, her legs sore from hours of walking. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
“Aye. But I will leave once you are resting comfortably.” He stood and waited for her to reposition herself under the skin, then lay beside her. “Sleep well.”
“I shall.” But instead of closing her eyes, she stared at the moon. Somehow, she must convince her brother to give up the idea of marrying her off to a man she’d never love.
Chapter Four
“What in Odin’s name have you done?” Konal cradled his wife’s limp body in his arms. “So help me…”
Roald eyed his brother, not knowing what to say. After three dances with Silvia, he escorted her back to the high table and she collapsed before she sat down. “Nothing,” he said, deeply concerned. Though he didn’t like her, while under his roof, it was his duty to protect her. “But we will find out what happened.”
Determined to solve the problem before anyone had time to start vicious rumors, he searched amongst his guests for a spaewife. But the one he usually called upon hadn’t attended the feast.
“Where is she?” he asked Troel. “Of all the bloody nights to be gone…”
“Far south, milord. The woman went to visit her daughter, remember?”
“And who is available now?”
The captain rubbed his chin. “There’s the old man in the stable. He’s capable and has a gentle hand with the beasts.”
“Gaze upon my sister-in-law, Captain. Does she have four legs and a mane? Or bleat like a fucking sheep?”
“No, milord.” Troel said on a growl.
Roald had never raised his voice to the captain—but the man couldn’t expect him to allow a stable hand to care for Silvia. “Send three men to fetch Grisla. And while they are gone, have them sweep the countryside for healers. I want only the best for my brother’s young wife.”
He watched as Konal carried Silvia out of the great hall. The room had grown uncomfortably quiet, so he grabbed a cup of mead from the closest table and raised it. “Do not be alarmed,” he said. “Drink. Eat. Take pleasure with the closest maid.”
Once he finished his mead, he stalked back to the high table where Runa waited.
“Better commands have never been given,” she said.
“Orders for my men only.”
“I cannot…”
“You can eat and drink. But if I catch you in bed with someone, I’ll have his ballocks cut off and hung in the public square.”
She stood, unhappy with his threat. “You will start your reign as a tyrant? Insult me, our brother? His wife?”
“I’d rather wear rags and live in a hut than be here.”
“Spoken as a spoiled child.”
She rushed out of the hall, leaving Roald with his youngest brother.
“Do you have any complaints to share, Haakon?”
He shook his head. “Where are you going?”
“To find a healer. Watch over our sister.” He refused to give Konal the chance to accuse him of anything else.
Not long after, Roald rode away from his steading, relieved to be alone. There was much to consider; his own future, Runa’s future marriage, his father’s funeral, and Konal’s wife. His grandfather would have left the Saxon witch to die. But the world was rapidly changing. Men who stayed away from their homelands too long were converting to other religions, growing soft, and trading their armor for land to farm. Not in the Trondelag. Roald would safeguard tradition, recruit the best men for his army, and bleed for the gods as long as he lived.
How any man could turn his back on the northlands, he didn’t know. A more beautiful place didn’t exist. Even by predawn light, the snowcapped peaks to the north were visible. He steered his horse along the western shore of the Trondheim fjord. The lowlands east and south of the fjord were fertile. And in winter, only the most northern section froze, leaving the inhabitants of this part of the country a place to fish all year long.
Birch, spruce, and pine trees sheltered the shore, and Roald stopped to admire Allfather’s handiwork.
“Give me the patience to deal with my brother fairly,” he prayed. “And once his woman is healed, I will exalt my father in the way any man of his status should be. Forgive me, Allfather. I have shunned duty in anger…”
He heeled his mount into a trot, once again northbound.
Hours later, he spied a fire through the trees. Sharing a meal with a fellow traveler would put him in a better mood. He dismounted and walked his horse the rest of the distance to the camp, hoping to find someone awake. Several leather bags were stacked near the fire. A half-eaten loaf of bread and wineskin were also set out.
He set his horse free to graze, then approached the sleeping form wrapped in fur. Much to his surprise, it was a woman—her long, dark blond tresses unbound and her delicate throat exposed. With a careful look at her possessions, he discovered her identity. An embroidered cloak was folded neatly on the ground by her pallet. Even her bags were embellished with colorful stitching.
Cursed Lapplander.
Though the Norse interacted with her people, tensions ran high. Many sheep and cows had been stolen from nearby steadings over the years and the thieves were obvious.
He should walk away and forget he discovered a Sami woman bedding down alone. Leave her to fend for herself. There were men of no honor who would pay to taste the tender flesh of a reindeer walker.
As he turned to go, a blade landed in the ground by his boot. Surprised, he stepped back, then gazed at her. The woman was crouched on top of her pallet. Wild-eyed and incredibly beautiful, Roald found himself unable to look away. Something about her held him captive.
“Hvem er du?” she asked in Norse.
He should be the one demanding to know who she was. These were Norse lands. “Why are you here?”
She relaxed then, shifting to her knees, but never taking her eyes off him. “Don’t waste my time, Norseman. I didn’t wander into your camp. You disturbed my sleep without announcing yourself.”
“Twenty horsemen could have thundered by and you would have slept through it.”
She chuckled. “Are you insulting me, lowlander?”
Roald retrieved the knife, held it up, and inspected the blade. He laughed at it, running his thumb over the blunt edge. “I see your senses aren’t the only dull thing in this camp.”
She climbed to her feet, giving him the opportunity to admire her slim form. Dressed in nothing but a shift and boots, he could see the fullness of her breasts and her shapely hips.
“Give me my knife.”
He shook his head and sheathed the blade in his belt. “You’re in no position to make demands. Tell me who you are and why you’re here, first. If I’m satisfied by your answers, I’ll consider returning the weapon. But only if I have your solemn oath not to try and kill me again. Though your aim isn’t true.”
She’d given him every reason to tease her. And he liked the way her eyes sparked whenever he said something insulting. How long had it been since he’d met a spirited woman who didn’t care if he was the jarl’s son?
“Jalla!” she spoke in her language now.
“Calling me an idiot won’t help your cause.”
Her lips thinned in irritation. “You understood.”
“Our people have lived side-by-side for generations, woman. Do you not expect us to learn each other’s tongues so we might communicate?”
“I expect nothing from a Viking,” she said. “For though we are neighbors, there’s never been peace—not true peace.”
“Aye,” he agreed. “But if we are smarter than our forefathers, we can, perhaps, exercise restraint now.”
“Restraint?”
“Respect,” he clarified.
She considered it. “All right.” She walked to the place where the food and wine were set out. “Break bread with me.”
In a show of trust, she turned her back and picked up the loaf. Then she faced him again and tore a large chunk off. “Here.”
Unless Odin willed otherwise, he’d accept her offer. “I will sit to eat.”
Together, they got comfortable near the fire, and she pulled several items wrapped in cloth from one of her bags. The first contained cheese, the next, strips of smoked fish. Though Roald had fresh food in his saddlebag, he’d not miss the chance to know this woman.
“My name is Eva,” she said as she took a drink. “My people come from Malangsfjorden, but we settled in the mountains east of here generations ago. Occasionally, I wander the lowlands to collect plants for medicine. Not all the species I can find here grow in higher altitudes.”
He considered her expression, the way her hands moved when she talked, how she didn’t pause between words. All signs that she spoke truthfully.
“I am Jarl Roald Blood Axe and I seek a skilled healer. My sister-in-law has fallen ill—gravely ill I fear.” If Silvia died, his family would be torn apart. To happen upon this woman in the middle of nowhere seemed too good to be true. Once again, Roald found himself indebted to the gods, for Allfather must have led him here. “Are you a thrall?”
She snorted. “I am freeborn, Roald Blood Axe. Should I dare ask how you earned that horrible name?”
He withdrew her knife from his weapon belt and laid it on the ground between them. “By having better aim than you.”
She rewarded him with a smile as she reached for the blade. “I don’t expect you to believe me, but I missed on purpose.”
“Did you?” He swallowed a mouthful of fish. “I will remember that, woman, and some day, if the chance arises, I will ask you to prove it.”
She laughed, thinking it a joke, then tucked the knife in her boot. “If I have my way, we’ll never meet again.”
Roald wasn’t trying to amuse her. If she was a healer, he’d take her home, whether she agreed to go or not. “Are you a healer?”
“My mother is noaidi and I will eventually take her place.”
He appreciated the way she squared her shoulders and raised her chin with pride when she spoke of her life. It left no doubt that Eva was, indeed, a healer. And likely a skilled one. For though the Sami were notorious thieves, they were also known for their magic.
“Then you will accompany me. If you are successful, I will pay you generously.”
“No,” she said. “I have other obligations.”
Unaccustomed to refusal, he cocked hi
s head, even more intrigued. “Your full cooperation is expected.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What happened to mutual respect?”
“When my family is at risk, even peace has its limitations.”
“What if I walk away?”
Did she really mean to test him? To push him beyond civility? “You won’t get far,” he said with some amusement.
Chapter Five
Roald’s last words were spoken softly, but his hard set jaw suggested how serious he was. Eva considered the cost of refusal. He wasn’t the first chieftain she’d crossed paths with. But this one carried himself differently. Yes, the blatant arrogance remained, and his authoritative tone never wavered, but the flickering firelight revealed something in his eyes. Just as the gods wore many skins, so could a man.
The more complicated the man, the better the chances he had a kind soul. This, Eva truly believed.
She took another drink of fermented milk, then corked her skin. “Many of the elders in my village are sick.”
“I am sorry to hear it,” Roald said. “Does this illness threaten their lives?”
“No,” she admitted. “However, it does make them uncomfortable.”
“Another reason I must ask you to think of my sister-in-law first.”
“Tell me of her symptoms.”
“There is little to report.” He looked frustrated. “Eating and dancing with me one minute, the next, she collapsed and remains unconscious.”
“Did she complain about stomach pains before?”
“No.”
“Fever? A headache? Are the muscles in her legs stiff and weak?”
“No.”
“Did she vomit after you danced with her?”
“No.” He blew out a breath. “What is the point of all these questions?”
Hours could be wasted discussing his sister-in-law’s condition. But, before she agreed to go anywhere with him, Eva needed to know what she was facing. Like any people living outside the grace of her gods, she risked her own life if she failed to provide a cure. If this woman died under her care, instead of blaming the illness, they’d fault her.