The Viking Lords Series by Sabrina Jarema
Lord of the Runes
Lord of the Mountains
Lord of the Seas
Lord of the Seas
Sabrina Jarema
LYRICAL PRESS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.
Table of Contents
Also by
Title Page
Copyright Page
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Glossary
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Teaser chapter
LORD OF THE RUNES
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
LYRICAL PRESS BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2017 by Sabrina Jarema
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Lyrical Press and Lyrical Press logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
First Electronic Edition: August 2017
eISBN-13: 978-1-60183-882-7
eISBN-10: 1-60183-882-4
ISBN: 978-1-6018-3882-7
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Even though writing is solitary, many people stand beside an author and help make each novel much better than a sum of its words. This happens every step of the way . . .
First, I want to thank my wonderful agent, Nalini Akolekar, who found a home for my Viking Lords. Every ship needs a port—even Viking longships.
Then I have a huge thanks for my lovely and talented critique partners, Karen Fleming and Carol Post. Our plotting sessions help me flesh out my ideas and you give me the encouragement to bring my stories to fruition. And after I’ve written that final sentence, you take my diamond in the rough and help me polish it until it sparkles.
Next, the manuscript goes to my editor, Martin Biro, who cuts and carves my words until they’re the best they can possibly be. My deepest gratitude for all your fine work.
I want to thank the production, marketing, and social media whizzes at Kensington for everything they do to get the word out about my books. It is greatly appreciated.
And, most importantly, I want to thank the readers who have enjoyed my stories. You’re the reason I do this and I hope I have brought these fascinating and sophisticated people to life for you.
Glossary
Arrha—A down payment on the bride-price of a woman, made to show good faith during marriage negotiations.
Bailey—A large open space, or courtyard, inside a fortress in Anglo-Saxon England.
Blótgythiur—Priestesses who made blood sacrifices in the temples.
Draugr—A spirit of the dead.
Einvigi—An unregulated duel of honor, fought with any weapons and no rules or judges.
Ell—A unit of measurement, about 20 inches, often calculated as the length of a grown man’s forearm from elbow to fingertips.
Færing—A small, four-oared boat.
Fjells—Mountains.
Fólkvangr—The realm where the goddess Freya’s hall, Sessrumnir, was located. Half the warriors who fell in battle came here.
Fylgjur—Personal guardian spirits in the form of an animal. Seeing one indicates death is near, but not always that of the person being guarded.
Handsal—A ceremony sealing the marriage contract. It must be witnessed by at least six men and the agreement is in effect as long as any of them are alive.
Heiman Fylgia—The bride’s “accompaniment from home” or dowry. It remains hers as a sort of life insurance policy in case she is widowed or divorced.
Hólmgang—A duel of honor with specific rules and customs, overseen by judges.
Hólmgangustadr—A bounded dueling area.
Hóvgythiur—A temple priestess.
Kasa—A drinking vessel with two handles often used at weddings.
Keep—The main building, usually made of stone, inside a fortress in Anglo-Saxon England.
Kennings—Highly complex poetry of ancient Scandinavia using circumlocution in the Old Norse, Old English, and Icelandic languages.
Knörr—A merchant vessel, partially enclosed with a lower deck for carrying cargo.
Landvaettir—Land spirits.
Miklagard—Viking name for Istanbul. The “Great City.”
Mjölnir—Thor’s hammer.
Mundr—The bride-price paid to the family of the woman to compensate them for the loss of her labor.
Níthingr—A coward, without honor.
Saydalani—Highly skilled pharmacists in the ancient Middle East.
Seax—A long knife, worn horizontally below the belt.
Seith-kona—A practitioner of shamanistic magic.
Sjaund—The “Funeral Ale.” Seven days after a person died, the heirs gathered at a feast, drank ale, and settled his affairs. After this, the deceased was considered truly gone.
Tafl—An ancient Scandinavian board game played by both men and women. The full name is Hnefatafl.
Thing—A regional assembly of free men who met to consult on important matters and to administer justice.
Varp—The warp strings on a loom, weighted with stones.
Vefkona—A weaver.
Vefr—Also vefstathr. A standing, or warp-weighted loom. Common throughout the world.
Vipta—The woof strings on a loom, attached to the shuttle and worked horizontally.
Völur—Plural of völva.
Völva—A practitioner of indigenous magic and prophecy, normally an elderly woman who had released herself from family bonds.
Wergeld—Amount of money each person’s life was worth according to rank.
Wyrd—Fate, destiny.
Prologue
The village of Haardvik
Hardangerfjorden, Hordaland, Norway
Summer, 851 A.D.
Even after all these days, the anger still seared him. Consuming. Bloody.
Familiar.
Rorik of Vargfjell set his jaw. He would not lash out in rage. This time. His aunt, the rune mistress Lifa, had shown him how to control his fury when he was a child.
Only, he had never truly been a child.
He stood on the cliff, glaring down at the shoreline and the three damaged ships he’d managed to save from the bastard Northumbrian earl’s treachery. The fourth was gone. His favorite, his flagship, The Sword of the Waves. He’d sailed away as it writhed in flames on the banks of a foreign river. Closing his eyes, he clenched his fists when the sight flared into his mind.
The wood screamed as the fire licked at the dragon’s head. The striped sail billowed up from the heat like the wings of a dragon struggling to take flight and escape. Then it, too, was engulfed. Blackened and crumbling, the great ribs heaved as though the vessel breathed its last. The crimson reflection of the flames spread like blood on the dark waters.
The earl had taken what
Rorik held most dear to him. Now he’d return the favor.
Chapter One
Redbank, The keep of Earl Edward
Along the Humber River, Kingdom of Northumbria
The dragon’s head snapped off. It hit the water and sank as the men pulled it further out into the river. Little by little, the remains of the burned ship were dismantled to lie in the depths of the Humber where they belonged. The ribs of the vessel still rose above the water like the skeleton of the beast, but soon they, too, would be gone.
Elfwynn, daughter of Earl Edward, shuddered. It had lain on their shoreline for several weeks, like some ugly, dead monster from the north. And yet, wasn’t it true? The Northmen were monsters, coming here to rape and pillage. Her father had driven them off, proving his strength to the foreigners who infested Northumbria each summer. He would keep them safe.
“Father wanted me to see if the men are nearly finished.”
Elfwynn looked up at her half brother. He’d come from the keep so quietly, she hadn’t heard him. “They’re working hard, Wulf, but that thing won’t be gone too quickly for my taste. I’d like to forget I ever saw it.”
“We may see more of them. The Northman who stopped here with his ships, Rorik, wasn’t alone. A larger fleet continued up the river, no doubt to attack other holdings near York. Father wants to make certain there’s no evidence of what happened when they return, on their way out to sea. We don’t want to give them a reason to stop here.” He rubbed the back of his neck under his long hair. “We’re still trying to figure out who gave the order to burn the ships. No one knows. Father wanted to pay the Northmen and let them leave. With so many of them in this area now, we can’t afford to antagonize them.”
“What does it matter who gave the order? It worked. We defeated them. They won’t try that again.”
“Wessex defeated the Northmen in a large naval battle last year near London. It didn’t stop them from wintering on the isle of Thaley near the Thames. Now they threaten the south.” With a slight smile, he ruffled her hair. “It’s nothing to concern yourself about anyhow. Father and I have agreed if the Northmen attack, my first duty is to get you and your mother to safety. Even if you were so foolish as to leave the keep to look at them when they were here. As beautiful as you are, it would serve you right if one of them fell in love with you and carried you off.”
“Rowena wanted to see them. She heard their leader, the one with the long black hair, was nice to look at. At times, she and I are friendly. I try, at least. Except when your mother is poisoning her against me, like she does so many here.”
“My sister has no sense. If she did, she’d see what our mother is. Even Father avoids her as much as he can. You can’t give in to Rowena in the hopes she’ll like you. Not if it puts you in danger from the Northmen or anyone. If that ever happened, I’d give my life to go after you.”
“And I’d sell my soul to stop you. In that, we’re much alike.”
“Except I’m better with a sword than you are.”
“That wouldn’t be difficult since I know nothing of warfare. Only weaving. And music.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way. Besides, you’re too fine to waste your soul on battles.”
“To save you, Father, my mother, and the people here, it would be a small price to pay.”
“Even those who turn their backs on you for your birth?”
“They only seek to ingratiate themselves to your mother. Not everyone holds it against me that I’m baseborn. They conveniently forget about that detail when they want to buy the cloth I weave.” She looked at the ship as the men rowed another piece of it out to the middle of the river. “Wulf, do you think they’ll come back? For revenge?”
“If they do, we’ll be ready. I’m leaving soon to gather more of our forces in case we have to fight.”
Her muscles knotted as she met his gaze. “I already lost my older brother to war. We both lost a cousin on Father’s side. I couldn’t stand to lose you, as well.”
“I felt their loss, too, Elfwynn. Randal was my half brother. He, our cousin, and I were more like full brothers. I’ll never forget the sight of him falling before me in battle with the Picts.”
“Ever since then, whenever you or Father have gone to fight, such fear comes over me, I can’t breathe right the entire time you’re gone. My heart races and I shake so hard I can barely weave, even though it’s the only thing that calms me. Nothing seems real until you return safe.”
“It just means you love us.” He squeezed her shoulder. “God will protect us against the pagans.”
That was true. So far.
“Let me walk you back to your house. There’s nothing more to see here and I’ll feel better knowing you’re closer to the keep. Both Father and I would be more at ease if you and your mother would consent to live within the keep itself.”
“We’re so close, we’re well protected. Father makes certain of that. If we moved in with you, your mother would start a war to rival even that of our people and the Picts. I don’t understand why she’s so resentful that Father loves us when she hates him anyway.”
“Pride. She’s bitter that you stand to inherit along with Rowena and me. That Father should love a village woman more than he does his highborn wife enrages her.”
“And my mother wastes away, pining for a man she can never marry. Sometimes I wish . . .” She didn’t finish the sentence. It would not be Christian to want Mildburg’s death or divorce so her parents could marry.
“I know.” He took her hand as they walked. “Sometimes I wish, as well. She’s been no mother to me, except to bear me into this world. Father can’t divorce her without cause. It would bring her family down on us. She would have to commit adultery or treason, then none could gainsay him. She’s too careful to get caught.”
That was why she and her mother couldn’t stay there, waiting for Edward to be free. Elfwynn wasn’t certain how much longer her mother could live for a day that would never happen.
As they walked up to the house, her mother was tending herbs in the front.
Wulf strode ahead of Elfwynn. “Rohesia, it’s good to see you out on this fine day.” He gave her a quick embrace.
“And it’s always good to see you, Wulf. You come here far too seldom. How much like your father you look with your curling brown hair and blue eyes.” She smiled at Elfwynn, but it held a sadness, as always. “Both of you. So similar to each other. Will you stay for a time and have some ale? I brewed it fresh.”
“Thank you, Rohesia, but I’m going on patrol with my men. With the burning of the longship, we must be vigilant. I’ll send some of Father’s men to watch over you in the days ahead. I wanted to make certain Elfwynn came back safely. She shouldn’t have been down by the river to begin with.” He gave her a quick frown.
“I’ve been walking to the farms to get wool for years, Wulf. The Northmen being in this area is nothing new. I’ve always been fine. But I promise, if I go any place, I’ll take some of the men with me.”
“I’d feel better knowing that. I’m leaving soon to find our forces who are patrolling against Mercia and bring them here.” He took Elfwynn by the shoulders. “Be careful. We’ve lived in an uneasy peace with the Danes since they arrived here, but that could change. We burned the ship of the most powerful of the Northmen. They won’t care that we don’t know how it happened. They only understand revenge. If anything happens, promise me you’ll go to the keep as fast as you can. I don’t care what my mother thinks. Father will be there. You’ll have a place.”
“I promise, Wulf. We’ll be fine.”
He gave her a dubious look before letting her go. “Keep her out of trouble, Rohesia. I’ll be gone a couple of weeks at most.”
“She’ll be too busy weaving with all the orders she has. I doubt she’ll leave her loom, even to eat.”
He shook his head. “Why you insist on making your own money, Elfwynn, is something neither Father nor I understand. He gives you everything you need.”
“People value what they pay for,” she said. “My weavings are the finest in the region. Should I not get recompense for my hours?”
“Of course.” He kissed the top of her head. “Just remember to sleep once in a while. I’ll see you when I return.”
She watched him walk in the direction of the keep until he was lost in the trees. Father gave them all they needed, yes. For their lives here. But he would never fund a journey to Rohesia’s people in Strathclyde. Elfwynn had to work to save for that. It might be the only thing that would spare her mother’s life. If they remained here, the memories of her dead son and the unrequited love she bore for Edward would cause her to fade away until she died. If she were among her own relations, she could start anew. She was not so old that her life needed to be over.
She was still beautiful. Elfwynn looked at her as she tended to her herbs. Over time, her beauty had become more translucent, like a fine glass. Each day it thinned, as though she were being worn out from within. One day, she would fade away.
Only a few more pieces of cloth, a little more silver, and Elfwynn would have enough. She wanted to leave as soon as possible, even before the fall.
Elfwynn breathed in the air scented with the herbs and flowers growing nearby. The aromas of home. This place was all she’d ever known. Still, many of the people she’d grown up with had never truly accepted her. It wasn’t because of her baseborn status. That wouldn’t matter so much in their land, as long as she was freeborn. Because Rohesia was free, Elfwynn was as well.
No, it was because of Mildburg. Many of her father’s people didn’t want to make an enemy of the lady of the keep, so they shunned both her and her mother. While there were some who remained friendly, it still made for a lonely life. They needed to go where they would be accepted and welcomed. Among her mother’s people, they would be.
Lord of the Seas Page 1
