Under A Viking Moon

by Tami Dee

  But her mind and emotions were to numb to truly appreciate it all, to fully grasp the wonder of literally walking through history as she was now. She was physically exhausted and she had a job to do. She had to fulfill her grandmother's wishes and save the baby from his father.

  She wouldn't worry about how she would accomplish this task, for she knew that the answer would offer it up with out her struggling to find it.

  In the meantime she needed to stay alive, which meant that she had to make Scipio believe that she would cooperate with him.

  Helmeted guards surrounded them as they walked through the dense underbrush, Scipio dragging her along with him even though she could barely keep up with his long-legged stride.

  "Where are we going?" Kat panted. If they didn't stop soon her lungs would explode. The steep, sloping streets of San Francisco hadn't prepared her for this kind of rough terrain.

  He stopped short and she slammed into his back.

  "Your exile has been lifted, lady," Scipio said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "You are returning to your father's fortress. Or rather to the place that is my fortress. Now."

  Kat couldn't believe it. She was going to see the home her ancestor had grown up in, the fortress her who-knew-how-many-greats-grandfather had built with his bare hands and defended against his enemies.

  Except he hadn't been able defend his home against the man he most trusted. The most dangerous enemy is a man you believe is your ally.

  *****

  Leif watched as Davyn lashed himself to the wheel. A storm had hit them about an hour ago and his brother was now battling the gale force winds and giant waves that slammed mercilessly against their vessel.

  Leif shouted orders like a man possessed, determined that they would not perish in this storm. He would not die. Not before he faced Kat. Not before he wreaked his well deserved revenge upon her.

  The storm pounded them relentlessly, pushing them off course. But it didn't matter. No matter how long it took to reach Iceland, he would mete out justice to the dark haired manslayer.

  His thoughts returned to his mother and sisters. Their desperate pleas to give Kat a chance to explain rang in his ears along with the howling winds of the storm.

  If only his mother knew how much he wished to do just that. But he had allowed Kat's honeyed words to blind him to her treachery once before and he would not do so again.

  She had assaulted his father, helpless as he was, after pretending to befriend him. Then, the second an opportunity had presented itself, she had turned against him, assaulting and robbing him then leaving him for dead.

  Leif lifted his head to the dark sky as the wind whipped his hair across his face and the fast falling raindrops hit his cheeks like small darts.

  Cavan stood at his side, a strangely satisfied look on his face that caused a frizzle of apprehension to run down Leif's spine.

  Leif shook off the feeling. Cavan was loyal. He had offered to come on this journey to capture Kat, vowing to help him make things right.

  Leif rubbed his aching temples and sighed. He was just tired.

  Tired and hurt. And, Thor help him, he was worried about Kat and the trouble she would eventually get herself into searching for the infant she had been charged to save.

  The very infant he was determined to slay.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Jora spooned another mouthful of stew into Nabboddr's mouth.

  "There," she said. "Very good, elskaminn."

  Her breath caught as her husband's hand captured hers and recognition dawned in his dark blue eyes. These were the moments she lived for. Over fourteen years of being with her husband and yet not with him had been torture.

  Then Kat had come along, a girl from the future that everyone misunderstood and feared. And she had single-handedly given Jora back her husband, patiently showing her that there was nothing to fear from the illness that claimed her husband's mind.

  Jora knew that there must be some mistake regarding Kat's supposed treachery. She was a good judge of human nature and when she looked into the girl's sea-blue eyes she saw kindness, a bit of sadness for the things left behind, and yes, bitterness for her current lot in life as a wife and a slave. But who could blame her for that?

  Granted that, at first, she had been suspicious, as suspicious as everyone else. But it had rapidly become clear that the girl was genuinely fond of Nabboddr. And when she spoke of her own Amma, and told of the illness she suffered, the illness so much like Nabboddr's, Jora had known that she would never harm her husband.

  It had come as no surprise to her that Kat had run away. But she knew that the girl would never harm Nabboddr in order to escape. Nor would she have stolen the two objects that meant so much to him, not only when he was in his right mind, but when he was not.

  Jora pushed her thoughts away from Kat for now. There was nothing she could do to change things between Leif and Kat, and today was a good day, her husband knew who she was.

  Her husband's eyes met hers and darkened with desire.

  Her pulse quickened.

  Even now, after all these years of marriage, he had to ability to make her blood sing.

  "Husband. It is good to see you this day." Her voice broke despite her efforts to sound cheerful. Kat had told her that seeing their loved ones sad often confused and frightened the 'patients' when their minds were clear.

  He smiled softly and brushed a finger along her jaw. "Aye, Jora," he said. "It is good to see you any day."

  He grasped her hands that had been clenched within the folds of her skirts, his expression was serious, somber even.

  "Wife," he said. "Why is it that you never divorced me? You have had adequate reason to free yourself from me and find another husband, one that is whole in body and in mind."

  "One hour with you when you know me is worth the loneliness of days when you do not," she told him tenderly. "Who could I ever love as much as I love you, Nabboddr? Why would I even think to find another when you are all I ever wanted?"

  Nabboddr nodded briskly, seeming satisfied with her answer.

  "Where are my sons and daughters?" he asked her. "I wish to see them whilst I remember who they are."

  "Leif, Ofeig and Davyn are abroad, they having left but yesterday."

  She could not bring herself to tell him where they had gone or why. Not now, knowing that his mind could slip away at any time. She would spare him the upset that the accusations against Kat would bring him.

  "Balmung is in the fields examining the crops. Your daughters are in the village." Feeling uncommonly shy she added in an undertone, "I alone am with you today."

  His eyes lit up with a mischievous gleam that caused her breath to catch.

  "Well, I am sure we can think of something to amuse ourselves until they return," he said. "Perhaps you would like to join me in my alcove."

  Jora's heart hammered in her breast. Did she dare join him, knowing that at any moment he could forget who she was or why she was lying with him?

  His brow lifted in question, a playful smile tugging at his lips. She answered her own question by leaning in and giving him a deep kiss. Years of longing poured into his welcoming lips.

  Jora made love with her husband for the first time in fourteen years. Afterward, she lay contented with her head resting in the crook of her husbands arm. She was amazed that the blue eyes she gazed into still held recognition within them.

  "I have missed you so," he whispered into her hair.

  Tears slipped from her eyes despite her best effort. He gently kissed them away as she ran her hands through his hair, quickly pulling her hand away at his sharp intake of breath.

  "Husband," she said apologetically. "It is said that you were struck on the head by Kat, the girl who has been helping us care for you for the last month or more."

  She hated to give him such news on a day where his mind was staying active for such a long time.

  "Nay, Jora," he said frowning. "It was not Kat that struck me, but Cavan."


  "Husband, are you sure?" she gasped.

  Storm clouds gathered on his face. This was the husband she knew.

  "Of course I am sure," he said. "I saw Kat at the river. She was alone washing clothes and two warriors I did not recognize were watching her from behind the underbrush. I was going down to confront them and instruct her to flee when I saw Cavan. At first I thought he had come to assist me. I saw him raise something in his hands and then there was nothing but pain and darkness."

  Jora felt the blood drain from her face. She had been right all along. She knew that Kat could not have done what they said she did.

  For as long as Cavan had been with their family, since he was just a boy, she had not fully trusted him. But her husband had and Leif seemed to, so she had never voiced the uneasy feeling she got when he was around her.

  But now her fears had been proved true. Hurriedly, before her husband's mind clouded again, she explained what had happened, all of it, from the time of his memories leaving him, to the attack of Leif the morning of his wedding. She told of Leif's betrayal by his wife and his year-long disappearance. He took in the information regarding this Katla being from the future without comment, and only nodded his head when she explained the girl's unusual situation in his household, that of a wife and a slave.

  She told him, too, that unknown to Leif, he was in love with her even though, at this moment, he and his brothers Davyn and Ofeig were at sea chasing her down to extract revenge upon her because of Cavan's false report. It had been so long since she had seen her husband in a rage that an odd thrill of excitement shot up her spine. It was so good to have him back.

  And, after thoroughly cursing Cavan, he told her what needed to be done, making her promise to get Balmung from the fields and gather together an army.

  They were, it seemed, about to go aviking.

  Jora prayed her husband and Balmung could reach Iceland in time. Not only in time to save Leif, Ofeig and Davyn from Cavan, but to save Kat from Leif.

  *****

  Leif was in a foul mood.

  A full week after his having set out to find Kat, the shores of Iceland, deserted and desolate, at last loomed ahead. Something was wrong. He did not know exactly what, but he was sure that things were not as they seemed.

  Cavan came to stand next to him. A tension radiated out of his slave master and his eyes held a strange gleam of anticipation.

  Leif and his two hundred warriors were ready for what ever might meet them, having had the extra week to practice and plot their possible courses. Each and every man knew that Kat was his. Any foolish enough to slay her would in turn be slain. Leif knew that his men were suspicious about his motives regarding her, but he did not care. This was personal. His honor was at stake. She had betrayed not only his family, but him.

  It was cruel indeed to leave him to suffer a broken heart and an empty life without her.

  And why had she done so?

  In order to save an infant that was foretold to raise an army and wipe out Leif's entire family line. Not that she was aware of that, for he had never told her what the second book predicted.

  They disembarked, his guards alert, their eyes scanning the shoreline and trees that set beyond the beach. Once landed, Leif, Davyn, Ofeig and the rest fanned out, each looking for signs that Kat had arrived.

  The cove they chose to land in was the most logical choice, it being the nearest point from Denmark. Leif hoped his instinct was right since otherwise, there was no telling how long it would take to search her out.

  If, that is, she had made it this far.

  He divided his men into four groups. He and fifty others would cover the north while Davyn would lead the second group of fifty south. Ofeig would lead the next group east, and Cavan had the honor of searching to the west.

  They would fan out all of Iceland, if necessary, to find her. Their meeting place would be Scipio's fortress. Leif's blood turned cold at the thought of what Scipio would do to her if he found her first. Scipio did not know that this woman was not his Katla, but Leif's Kat. But she did know. What would she do if she met up with Scipio? Would she worm her way into his household and heart or would she remain loyal to the love she declared to Leif?

  A bitter laugh escaped his throat. The sound harsh on the ice-cold air.

  Kat. There was no telling what she would do.

  How could he love her more than life itself in one moment, and wish for nothing more than to squeeze her slim throat until her eyes popped out the next?

  The memory of his father's pale face brought his thoughts back to reality.

  The memory of the large, blooded stained rock his mother had found beside his father as he lay unconscious outside the great hall enraged him.

  While he would be the first to admit that Kat was physically strong, it would have taken too great an effort for her to have lifted the stone over her head, which she most surely would have had to do to topple his father, despite her determination to find the infant her grandmother had told her of and save him. She was equally determined to leave Leif's time, and never look back,

  Especially, he realized, if she carried his child would she have gained strength beyond what is normal to make her escape.

  As the groups split off in four directions, Leif knew the soundness of his mind was in question. He was well aware of how large an island Iceland was and he had just ordered two hundred men to search it from one end to the other.

  Perhaps he had taken on his father's illness and just could not see it.

  He told himself it did not matter. All he cared about at this time was that his orders be followed.

  No one spoke as he led his group through the brush, the only sound being that of their feet as they crunched the thin layer of ice.

  Even if they could not find Kat, he reasoned to himself trying to justify this abrupt trip to Iceland, they would still have journey here to check the status of Scipio's search for the infant.

  Bjalfi -- a warrior that had been with him when his ship was attacked by Scipio -- called out and his booming voice echoing on the still air.

  "Look, over here," he said. "There are footprints. I would say hundreds of them, all leading this way."

  He was right. The leaves from the shedding birch trees were crushed, the damp sections of earth surrounding them had been trampled by many feet.

  Leif knelt down to examine the tracks more closely.

  "Do you think she was with this group?" Bjalfi asked eagerly.

  "I don't see how she could have been," Leif told him. "This group would have had to have come from Denmark if she were. She had only a knife and brooch to bribe someone with, and I don't think this many people would risk my displeasure by allowing her to accompany them. Every one in the region knows who she belongs to."

  Bjalfi looked disappointed. "Aye, one person may be foolish enough to help her escape, but this many would never risk it."

  Bjalfi continued to scout the area, undeterred. "It looks like they made camp here," he said, scooping up a handful of ashes. "They are cold, but not wet from any recent rain."

  Absently pacing the abandoned camp sight Leif examined the shadows of the birch forest. Looking through the thin white trees that took up miles and miles of Iceland for answers.

  An unwelcome thought turned his blood cold. What if Kat were to stumble upon this group of unknown warriors, men who would not hesitate to rape her and leave her for dead.

  Or worse, enslave her.

  "I only did what I had to do!" he roared. At which Bjalfi and several others turned to gape at him. He was doing a fine job of convincing them that he was not sound of mind.

  At that moment, happening to look down, Leif saw, at his feet, the end of a leather strap. His wrists and ankle stung with remembered pain of such a one as he reached down and picked it up, his heart thundering in his chest as he saw that it was stained with blood as was the white bark of the birch above it, and there, blowing in the wind like a beacon was a hair caught on a small piece o
f bark.

  A long, black hair.

  The leather strap felt heavy in his fingers. He braced his suddenly weak knees and took a calming breath.

  They had Kat. And she was a prisoner.

  It was the only explanation.

  "What is it Jarl Leif?" Bjalfi asked him, clearly concerned.

  "This was on the ground." With fingers that were embarrassingly unsteady he handed the bloodied strap to Bjalfi who fingered it and frowned.

  "And there is this." Leif pointed out the single dark hair.

  "She must have stumbled upon this group and been taken a prisoner."

  Bjalfi seemed to choose his next words carefully.

  "This will make our task of finding her much easer," he said. "No efforts have been made to hide their trail. Finding them, and then relieving them of her, will be easy. If they do not use her to death first, you will be able to take your much deserved revenge on her."

  If they do not use to death first...

  Without giving himself time to think, Leif balled his fist and smashed it into Bjalfi's jaw.

  Unprepared for the attack Bjalfi fell back, crashing into a tree.

  Rubbing his jaw, he gave Leif a knowing look.

  "So that is how it is with you?" he said. "In spite of what she did to your father?"

  The rest of the men, having missed the conversation, now stood around them, tense, alert for trouble.

  "Aye. That is how it is," Leif said defiantly.

  Bjalfi nodded. Leif could not tell how he felt about his jarl's declaration. Leif knew that, when he finally confronted Kat, he would have to live with the consequence of his decisions regarding her for the rest of his life.