by Fabio
Since the day Viktor had visited Wolfgard's village and made his pact with the enemy, he had been honing his warrior skills to a razor's edge, spending every free moment with his men practicing swordplay, archery, and wrestling, even the delicate and deadly intricacies of spear catching. The sessions had been brutal, and Viktor had spent almost as many hours soaking bruised muscles in the hot-spring bathhouse as he had practicing warfare. But he knew he had made great strides, and soon he would attempt to capture Reyna. So far, he had not told his warriors of his intentions or his pact with Wolfgard—they thought they were practicing each day so Viktor could lead an attack against Wolfgard. Privately, though, Viktor realized mat his passion to seize Reyna had become a fire in his heart, and he knew he would not rest until he had captured this wild, magnificent creature, tamed her, and brought an end to the feud.
Today the warriors were focusing their session on wrestling. Viktor had just dared Orm, Rollo, and Canute to tackle him—all at the same time. Over the past weeks, he had gradually built up to grappling with more than one warrior at once. Now he stood ready for the assault—his body taut, his legs spread, his knees slightly bent, his arms extended wide, his long fingers curled for a strike.
However, the men Viktor had challenged appeared perplexed and hesitant. Canute squinted at Viktor through his one eye; Rollo scratched his crotch; Orm chewed his whiskers.
"But, jarl," Rollo protested, "we cannot all three of us attack you at once. Yea, you have greatly improved your skills over the past days, but we would still be taking unfair advantage."
"If I am to defeat Reyna the Ravisher," Viktor replied, 'then throwing down three of you at once may pale by comparison.'
Now he had insulted the men, and his comments were met with low growls and glowers on the part of the challenged, and with mocking jeers from the rest of the warriors.
"Are you saying three of us are not equal to one puny warrior woman?" demanded Canute.
"No, no, of course not," Viktor hastily amended. "But are you not aware that this woman, when riled, becomes a she-troll with more than a hundred heads?"
The tension eased, and the men chuckled to one another. As Viktor well knew, there was no disgrace for even the fiercest warrior to need assistance in capturing such a fearsome monster.
"Yea, jarl," agreed Orm with a grin. "The Ravisher is a she-troll straight from Jotunheim. Mayhap you will need Thor himself to help you take her down."
Alt the warriors threw back their heads and laughed.
"An apt observation," replied Viktor, "but since I cannot count on Thor to make his appearance at the proper moment, I must do everything in my power to become prepared. Now attack—all of you!"
The challenged men exchanged cocky grins and did as their jarl bade. Bellowing battle yells, the three charged
Viktor. After weeks of intensive practice, Viktor reacted like a precise, well-oiled machine. His foot kicked out to jab Canute in the knee, sending him doubling over in pain. Then he grabbed Rollo in mid-flight, threw him over his shoulder, and sent him crashing to his back with a great groan. Losing no momentum, Viktor spun about in time to take down Orm with a skilled over-the-hip throw.
Within seconds it was all over, and the warriors who had served as spectators could only gape at their jarl in awe. Viktor stood triumphant, grinning, while all around him, Orm, Canute, and Rollo grunted and groused and rubbed aching muscles.
Svein came forward with a proud grin. "You have done it, jarl. After weeks of practice, your skill with the sword is unsurpassed. You are deadly accurate with the spear and arrow, and a master at hand-to-hand combat. You are now ready to lead us into battle against Wolfgard and the Ravisher."
"Yea, I agree," Viktor replied. "And tonight we will convene our war council."
Svein's features lit up with anticipation, while the other warriors hooted a mighty cheer ...
Above the men in her concealed position behind the rocks, Reyna watched in mingled awe and horror as three fierce warriors charged Viktor ... and he took down all three in the space of mere seconds! He was so magnificent as he moved, like a mighty stallion charging at a horse fight, his muscles gleaming and rippling, his vigor and agility wondrous to behold.
Reyna's stomach churned and she felt sweat breaking out on her upper lip. Viktor had grown so splendidly skilled, his body so strong and hard, kindling in her forbidden desires to see his strength at close range, to touch those glistening muscles, to feel his raw virility. He radiated such power—
He was preparing to come for her, she realized with a sick feeling mingled with a mutinous thrill. He would surely try to capture her soon, just as he had vowed to Wolfgard. Merciful Jehovah, what if he could master her now?
Never! her pride declared fiercely. Never would she become the pawn of Viktor's will, the slave of his desires.
Damn him to Hell, and damn the traitorous excitement he stirred. If he came for her, she would slay him ... That, or she would surely lose herself.
"Men, I have something of great importance to tell you."
That night Viktor was gathered at "war council" with his retainers—Svein, Orm, Canute, Ottar, and Rollo. Seated at the large table in the dining hall, the men had just feasted on roast salmon, mutton stew, bread, and mead. Iva was walking around with a jug, refilling the men's oxhorns, and Viktor noted the stave and Ottar exchanging shy smiles. Recently he had spotted the two walking the tundra together and he was pleased to see this evidence of a courtship developing between them.
The warriors seemed in mellow, approachable humor, with their bellies full and their spirits lightened by alcohol. The central chamber itself was more comfortable than ever now that it was smoke-free. Soon after his visit to Wolfgard's village, Viktor, with help from several of his men, had constructed a stone chimney to vent the fire. He had even built a similar device in his bedroom. Crudely shaped but soundly built, the freestanding fireplace was loosely patterned after the adobe ones he had often seen in Santa Fe. The entire village had come out yesterday to marvel at the fabulous invention in the dining hall, and to watch the device draw smoke upward through the roof. Since then, every family in the village had demanded one of the remarkable contraptions, and Viktor intended to see that a chimney was eventually built in every home.
As Iva slipped from the room, Orm urged, "Speak your mind, jarl. We all hunger to hear you are ready to attack Wolfgard, carve out his blackened heart, and kill the Ravisher."
Viktor struggled not to shudder at these grisly images, which more than demonstrated that his men were still every bit as bellicose as Wolfgard himself. Calmly, he replied, "I have conjured a way to end the feud."
"Yea, by slaughtering Wolfgard and all his people," put in Canute eagerly.
"Nay," said Viktor.
"Nay?" repeated the other five in unison,
Viktor stared at their stunned faces and gathered his fortitude. 'There is something I have not told you. It is the reason I have been practicing my warrior skills ..."
"So you can slay Wolfgard," finished Svein.
"Nay." Viktor drew a heavy breath. The truth is, when I went to Wolfgard's village, I made a pact with him."
To Viktor's chagrin, roars of rage shook the table, and mighty Canute bolted to his feet with sword drawn. "Why, you filthy whoreson! You have betrayed us!"
Viktor also surged to his feet. "Nay! I did no such thing."
"Then explain yourself, jarl," beseeched a wild-eyed Svein.
Viktor stared at the others, who appeared equally shocked and angered. "Wolfgard and I made a bargain concerning his stepdaughter. He agreed that if I can capture Reyna, tame her, and make her give me a son, he will end the feud.'
Mutterings of incredulity flitted down the table.
"And you believed the villain?" asked Rollo.
"Yes," said Viktor.
Orm slammed his fist down on the table, rattling the dishes. "You have made a pact with Loki himself!"
"Wolfgard made the vow in front of witnesses," "V
iktor argued. "If I fulfill my part of the bargain, he will have no choice but to honor his word and end the feud."
The men fell into glowering silence.
"But, jarl," protested a clearly disappointed Rollo, “we have no desire to end the feud."
"You mean you wish to continue to watch your kinsmen die?" Viktor demanded.
His question prompted his retainers to glance at one another in confusion. "But 'tis a great honor for a warrior to die in battle," said Rollo.
"And if the feud should end," Orm put in, "what will we do?”
"Why, you could start by improving the quality of life for our own people," Viktor replied.
"What means this 'quality of life'?" asked a frowning Svein.
Viktor gestured toward the table. "For one thing, have you men never given a thought to the high-fat diet all of you consume? I mean, boar meat, bacon, eggs, whole milk, and cheese—why it is all loaded with cholesterol and will put you in early graves,"
The warriors stared at one another, utterly perplexed.
"We need to plant more cereal staples," Viktor continued. "Perhaps in time we can even travel to Ireland or England to secure the proper seeds and plantings to start more vegetable crops and fruit orchards. "
"You would end the feud so we all may become farmers, jarl?" scoffed Canute.
Even amid cynical laughter, Viktor replied feelingly, "I would end the feud to keep you, my brothers, from dying— from leaving your wives to weep and your children to grow up fatherless. If I can only capture Reyna the Ravisher and tame her, then all of the peoples on Vanaheim can live together in harmony."
The warriors appeared little moved; although no one protested outright to Viktor, much grumbling and headshaking alerted him to their continued resistance.
At last Svein whispered, "You truly intend to proceed with this madness, jarl?"
"Of course." Hoping to appeal to the men's vanity, he added, "Besides, the warrior woman insulted me horribly. She spit at me. I would like to see her put in her place."
Again there was dead silence.
"What is wrong?' cried Viktor.
"Jarl, we do not understand," said Ottar.
"Understand what?"
"If the woman has so insulted you, you should slay her," growled Rollo.
"Kill a woman?" Viktor said in disbelief.
"Yea, even a female has not leave to spit in the face of a king," blustered Orm.
"But if I were to do this terrible deed, then we would have no way at all to stop the feud!"
Again silence reigned.
"Don't you want peace?" Viktor asked, flabbergasted.
The men consulted among one another for a moment; then Rollo answered for the group. "Nay, jarl. We do not."
"Is that what say all of you?" Viktor demanded.
Five heads nodded.
Viktor could have shouted his frustration. Instead, he shook a fist at the lot of them and spoke with determination gleaming in his eyes. "Listen well, you dimwits. Whether you like it or not, I am king, and this is the way it is going to be. I am going to capture Reyna the Ravisher, bring her back here, and tame her. And you, my kinsmen, are going to help me. Either you are with me or you are against me. Choose now."
Another silence ensued. Svein glanced at each sober-faced warrior in turn, then spoke for the group. "We are with you, jarl.”
"Good. We go tonight."
'Tonight?' echoed Ottar.
"Yea. I have decided we will make a daring midnight voyage up the fjord and snatch this banshee woman from her bed."
The others mumbled to one another and exchanged glances of mystification.
What of Wolfgard's warriors? asked Canute. "Surely he will not leave his village unguarded, knowing of your plans.'
Viktor nodded. "We will surprise the sentries, knock them out if need be. But we will avoid the taking of any life at any cost Is that clear?'
Never had Viktor seen a group of men look so horrified—or so disappointed
"You mean we cannot slay them? asked a crestfallen Orm.
"Out of the question," Viktor replied firmly. Hoping to further sway them, he argued, "Think of it this way. Wolfgard may not miss a mere woman, but if we kill his warriors, he will be certain to retaliate."
The men appeared no less discouraged. "Can we not at least bring back a few of Wolfgard's kinsmen to torture?" asked Canute in an uncharacteristic whine.
'Torture?" Viktor repeated in a barely audible tone.
"Yea, jarl, we need to plan a fitting diversion for the Shieling feast," put in Orm with a persuasive grin. "We generally roast a live enemy or two whenever the festivities hit a lull."
Oh, heaven help them all! thought Viktor with a sinking feeling. "Do not worry, I will help you devise more suitable entertainment for the Shieling feast," he snapped. "Otherwise, kindly forget about slaying Wolfgard's warriors. As Fm sure you will agree, capturing the woman alone will be more than enough challenge for us all."
No one could argue there.
FIFTEEN
.Eerie dark clouds, backlit by the moon, stretched above the swollen, swiftly running fjord. Staring out into the obscure, chill night, Viktor stood next to Svein, who was serving as helmsman, navigating the kingship through the treacherous waters toward Wolfgard's wharf.
Only Viktor and his retainers had come, for he had argued that the smaller the raiding party, the less likely they'd be detected. Staring up at the brooding heavens, he said a silent prayer that they would accomplish their purpose without undue violence or loss of life. After all, the goals of this mission were to save lives and to bring the two warring tribes together.
As for the little Valkyrie herself, she would be fit to be tied when they wrenched her from her bed, Viktor mused. And tied she would be, for he had brought along several lengths of rope fashioned from walrus skin to restrain her, as well as a long sash of clean white linen—cleaner than her filthy tongue deserved!—to gag her waspish tongue. As the piece de resistance, he had also brought a pile of wool blankets to wrap her in—partly to keep her warm during the return voyage, partly to stifle her screams and limit her struggles. His men were armed with ropes and gags in order to restrain the guards.
The wisdom of their preparations became evident as the longship approached the wharf. Spotting Viktor's ship, two enemy sentries rushed forward, while a third man ran off up the trail, evidently to rouse Wolfgard's camp. As Viktor's ship thudded against the wharf, slipping in beside Wolfgard's drakar, one of the guards yelled, "Who goes there?" as both men hauled out broadswords.
Orm and Rollo jumped down and charged the sentries, while Ottar and Svein raced off after the man who had escaped up the trail. In a brief scuffle on the pier, Orm and Rollo rendered two of the guards unconscious; a moment later, Svein and Ottar dragged back the third sentry, who had also been knocked cold.
"Are you pleased, jarl?" Rollo called up with a grin.
"Yea—we did not slay them," added a proud Orm.
Viktor hopped down with the mooring rope, securing it to a post. He glanced ruefully at the three insensible men. "It would have been helpful to question them first."
A breathless Svein answered, "The sentries put up too much of a struggle, jail But do not fret—we shall likely encounter more of them along the way."
After Orm, Rollo, and Svein had bound and gagged the guards, Viktor grabbed a stack of blankets and ropes from the vessel. With all of his kinsmen assembled, he ordered, "Canute, remain behind to guard our ship."
The one-eyed man appeared crestfallen. "But, jarl—"
"You are our mightiest warrior, the only man we can trust to stave off additional sentries should they patrol the wharf/ Viktor interrupted firmly. "Without you here, our mission might well be doomed."
Glancing up at the deserted hillside, Canute seemed to realize they were in little danger of being attacked by more sentries here. Nonetheless, he grudgingly replied, "Yea, jarl."
“Good," Viktor said, relieved that his most bloodthirs
ty fighter would be left behind. He tossed a folded wool blanket to each of his four other warriors. "All right, men— remember, we must stay together, in the shadows. If you must communicate, try to use hand signals, or whisper—and only when needed. And heed my warning—no bloodshed unless it is absolutely necessary,"
Amid a light mist that had begun to fall, the five left the pier and moved stealthily up the hillside. They followed the trail over the cliffs, all constantly alert for signs of more sentries. When they met with no resistance, Viktor was left wondering if perhaps Wolfgard was easing the way for him, welcoming his kidnapping of Reyna. It wasn't until they had crested a rise on the outskirts of the village itself that Viktor at last spotted two more guards. Blessed good luck! The two appeared to have shirked their duties; they were squatted beneath the eaves of a wattle-and-daub cottage and sipping from oxhorns.
Viktor held up a hand to stay his men, and all crouched behind a low basalt boulder.
"Let me take them," whispered Orm, wiping moisture from his craggy face.
"Yes, you and Rollo," Viktor answered in a hushed voice. "And remember, do not kill them, or even knock them out this time. Bring them back so I may question them."
"Yea, jarl," Orm whispered. 'To slay such miserable cretins would be no better man to steal milk from a babe."
"Then be about it. Quickly. And quietly."
As Viktor, Svein, and Ottar waited tensely, Rollo and Orm crept up behind the sentries. At first, seeing both men unsheathe their daggers, Viktor feared his orders had been betrayed. His apprehension turned to relief as he watched his men grab the guards in choke holds and press knives to their throats. Within seconds the sentries were dragged over to "Viktor at knifepoint.
"Ask your questions, jarl," said Rollo.
Viktor stared at the two guards, who appeared wild-eyed and terrified. One was so frightened that he had already urinated on himself. Viktor hated having to subject the men to such brutal tactics—although, in the long run, his strategies would result in less loss of life for all the peoples of Vanaheim.
