Surrender To The Viking

by Joanna Fulford

  Folkvar grinned. ‘We certainly do.’

  ‘She learns quickly. He only taught her that footwork a couple of days ago but she’s got it already.’

  ‘Better on the downstroke too,’ said Vigdis.

  Unnr nodded. ‘Much better.’

  ‘Needs to lunge a bit faster though,’ said Sturla. The others fell silent and, under the combined weight of several frosty stares, he hurried on. ‘Still, it’s early days yet and she has made good progress. Anyone can see that.’

  Mollified, they looked away again and returned their attention to the combatants.

  * * *

  Lara moved in to the attack and the strokes came thick and fast, Finn parrying deftly. She concentrated, forgot everything but the two swords, moving instinctively, seeking the opening that would let her through his defence. And then, almost without her being aware, the point of her blade slid under his guard and came to rest against his shoulder. She checked there, staring at him in disbelief.

  ‘A hit! At last!’

  ‘Aye, you little wretch, it was,’ he replied.

  She grinned. ‘I did it. I really did it!’

  ‘You’re not going to let me forget this, are you?’

  ‘Not likely.’

  * * *

  The onlookers burst into spontaneous applause. Unnr capered and let out a whoop of delight.

  ‘Thor’s stones, she got him!’

  ‘A blow like that would’ve really hurt too,’ said Vigdis.

  ‘No question. Would’ve laid him up for a fortnight, I reckon.’

  Sturla nodded. ‘I told you she was making progress.’

  * * *

  The two combatants turned in surprise and saw their audience some thirty yards away by the root store. Lara caught Finn’s eye and laughed. By tacit consent they sheathed the swords.

  He sighed. ‘You realise this has done incalculable damage to my reputation. I may never live it down.’

  ‘I won’t tell.’

  ‘You won’t have to.’ He jerked his head towards the onlookers. ‘They will be only too pleased to do it for you.’

  ‘I didn’t know they were there, did you?’

  ‘Unfortunately not, or I’d have spitted them all first to ensure their silence.’

  She giggled. ‘You sound aggrieved, my lord.’

  ‘I am aggrieved and demand retribution. Come here.’

  ‘No.’

  Finn raised an eyebrow. ‘Come here.’

  He tried to grab her but Lara danced out of reach. ‘Shan’t.’

  ‘Oh, but you shall.’

  ‘You can’t make me.’

  He advanced menacingly. ‘Would you care to wager on that?’

  She grinned and retreated, staying just out of reach. ‘I’ll wager you can’t catch me.’

  ‘You’ll lose. I will catch you, you little wretch, and when I do...’

  ‘You’ll what?’

  ‘You’ll find out soon enough.’

  Without warning he darted forward to grab her. Lara dodged and fled. She had no intention of letting him catch her, not yet anyway. She raced round the end of the barn but had gone no more than a dozen yards when she stopped so abruptly that Finn almost cannoned into her.

  ‘What the—?’ He broke off and his grin faded when he saw why she’d stopped. Six armed warriors barred the way—all of them strangers, save for one.

  Lara’s breath caught in her throat. ‘Steingrim.’

  The warlord surveyed her dispassionately for a moment then looked past her to her companion. ‘Well met, Jarl Finn.’

  Finn returned the stare. ‘You and your men are harder to get rid of than lice. Wasn’t our last encounter enough for you?’

  The mercenaries glared at him, hands hovering over sword hilts. Lara’s stomach churned.

  The warlord’s eyes glinted. ‘Did you think it would be?’

  ‘I didn’t think you’d be fool enough to come back for more.’

  ‘You’re mistaken. I’ve been hoping to run into you again for some time, but you’ve done it for me.’

  His companions bared their teeth in feral grins that never altered the cold, hard light in their eyes.

  ‘Glad to oblige,’ replied Finn. Seizing hold of Lara he pushed her firmly behind him. As he did so he lowered his voice. ‘Run, Lara.’

  ‘I won’t leave you.’

  ‘Go. Fetch reinforcements. I’ll try to hold them off.’

  Her throat dried. She knew full well that she wouldn’t have enough time to get to the hall and back. By then it would be too late. Finn was good but odds of six to one were hopeless. With thumping heart she backed away to the corner of the barn and darted a glance towards the root store. Unnr and his companions were no longer anywhere in sight. Her heart sank.

  Finn drew his sword. ‘Come, then, Steingrim. Let’s end it now. Just you and me.’

  The warlord smiled. ‘I mean to end it all right. All debts between us shall be paid.’ With that he drew his sword and, flanked by his companions, advanced on Finn.

  Lara’s eyes widened. This couldn’t be happening. Sucking in a deep breath she cried out at the top of her lungs, ‘Unnr! Folkvar! Vigdis! Help us!’

  There was no reply. Where are you? Lara called out their names again, darting frantic looks between the hall and the intruders. Answer me, for the love of Odin.

  Steingrim laughed. ‘There’s no one coming to save you this time.’

  Finn shot a sideways glance at Lara. ‘Run!’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I stay with you.’

  ‘Touching loyalty,’ said Steingrim. ‘Too bad it’s misplaced.’

  Finn’s voice grew harsh. ‘Lara, in the name of all the gods, I command you to go.’

  ‘It’s no use, Finn. It’s my choice and I will make my stand with you.’

  For a moment there was silence. Steingrim surveyed her with grudging admiration. Then he nodded. ‘So be it. We’ll give you a quick death. You deserve that much.’

  ‘No!’ Finn’s voice rang out. ‘You have no quarrel with the woman. Your quarrel is with me.’ He turned to look at Lara. ‘Your loyalty is misplaced. Don’t throw away your life in a foolish romantic gesture.’

  She frowned. ‘I’m your wife. How is it foolish?’

  ‘Because I’m not worth it. Because the woman I loved is already dead and you’ll never take her place. Because I don’t want your death on my conscience. Take your life and go.’

  He had never used that tone with her before and it stripped away the last vestiges of hopeful fantasy to leave her in no doubt of his true mind. It hurt more than being punched because the pain went right to the core of her being. Speech was impossible and for a second it was hard even to breathe.

  Steingrim frowned and jerked his head towards her line of escape. ‘It’s good advice, wench. You should heed it. In truth I’d be loath to slay you.’

  Mentally reeling she began to back away. The pack watched but no one tried to stop her. She retreated round the end of the barn and slumped against the wall, blinking back the water in her eyes.

  * * *

  Steingrim turned to look at his opponent. ‘I never thought I’d live to see the day, but for once I actually agree with you. You’re not worthy of her. It’ll make killing you all the more enjoyable.’

  ‘We’ll see about that, won’t we?’ replied Finn.

  The clash of steel rang out on the quiet air as he launched himself on Steingrim. The warlord stepped forward to parry the blow. There followed a swift and fierce exchange in which each man sought an early advantage, but they were well matched and too experienced to offer a weakness that might be exploited. At every turn Finn’s attack was blocked. Steingrim was strong and his reflexes fast. The warlord alterna
tely defended and attacked, keeping up the pressure, looking for the opening that would allow him under his opponent’s guard.

  For a little while his companions looked on without interfering, no doubt expecting that their chief would dispatch his enemy quickly as usual. However, it didn’t happen. Moreover, the sound of the conflict carried and with each passing minute discovery became more likely. If reinforcements arrived from the hall then the intruders were done for. When it became clear that the swift victory they’d anticipated was going to be denied, the rest began to close in.

  Finn smiled grimly. He meant to sell his life dear but even so he knew he would die today. What mattered was that Lara would live. It had been worth the lie to bring that about. The look on her face hurt more than anything Steingrim and his wolves could do to him. The only consolation was that it wouldn’t haunt him for long.

  * * *

  Lara shut her eyes and took a deep breath. Finn had never lied to her about the way he felt. Even at the end he refused to do that. However, he was wrong about being unworthy. No man was more so in her eyes. He was a man worth living with, a man worth dying with. It wouldn’t take long. Anyway, the alternative was a lifetime without him.

  She retraced her steps and drew her sword. Steel whispered against wood and leather: Death Kiss. Lara felt the hairs rise on her arms.

  ‘I hear you,’ she murmured. Then, tightening her hand round the grip, she leaped into the fray.

  * * *

  The man closing on Finn’s left side didn’t even see her coming. The first and last he knew of her presence was the cold steel plunging deep into his ribs. He froze in mid-stride with a stifled cry. Lara gritted her teeth and tugged the blade free, whirling round just in time to parry a blow aimed at her head. The force of it jarred the length of her arm. Her assailant sneered.

  ‘Well, well, the miniature Valkyrie returns.’

  Heart pounding, Lara sneered back, ‘I couldn’t resist the chance to kill some giant nithings.’

  His smile faded. ‘You should have run while you had the chance, bitch. Now I’m going to carve you into little pieces.’

  ‘I’m trembling.’ That was no lie—only it was from anger now, not fear. Only a nithing would consent to a fight with such cowardly odds. The scum didn’t deserve a shred of respect.

  ‘You will be,’ he said.

  ‘In your dreams, craven.’

  He threw himself at her. Lara stood her ground and faced him, fighting for her life and for Finn now, using every skill she’d ever learned. Half-a-dozen times she turned aside a death blow. Even so, her enemy’s strength was greater and slowly, relentlessly, he began to drive her backwards, step by step. Out of the corner of her eye she could see a second man approaching on her right in a pincer movement. Where in Hel’s name were Unnr and the others? Her assailant pressed harder. Defending desperately, she took another pace back and then another. Then she hit the barn wall and there was nowhere to go. Her opponent grinned and raised his arm for the killing blow. She threw up her sword, parrying instinctively. The force of the descending blade sent a jarring shock through her arm and shoulder and slammed her against the timber planking. A gust of fetid breath hit her in the face.

  ‘Little pieces, bitch.’

  Lara spat at him. ‘Nithing.’

  He drew back his arm. A second later his eyes bulged and he grunted, doubling over in agony as she brought her knee up hard between his legs. Without hesitation she swung the sword and felt it bite deep. Hot blood sprayed from the cut in his neck, splattering across her tunic. Somewhere in the distance she heard the sound of running feet and shouting and moments later several armed men flashed across her line of vision. Her heart leaped. Unnr. Vigdis. All was not yet lost. Breathing hard, she whirled round to look for Finn but her vision was blocked. She had a swift impression of a helmet, a bearded face and a studded leather tunic before the pommel of a sword clubbed her savagely across the side of the head. Then the ground rose up to meet her and everything went black.

  * * *

  Finn stepped away from Steingrim’s body and whipped round, grimacing at the sudden pain in his leg as the old injury protested. Instead of the opponent he’d been expecting to see, the entire area was a sea of fighting men as his sword brothers hurtled to the fray. Within two minutes it was over and the mercenaries lay dead. He barely spared them a glance, his gaze searching frantically for Lara. She’d come back. Even after everything he’d said, she’d come back. He’d seen her account for one of his enemies and go on to tackle a second but then there was no more time to look. Now he couldn’t see her at all. Cold dread settled like a stone in the pit of his stomach. Sacred All-Father, let her be all right.

  ‘You’re hurt, my lord,’ said Unnr.

  Finn glanced down, belatedly becoming aware of the gashes across his chest and arm. ‘It’s nothing. A couple of scratches.’ He looked around again. ‘Where’s Lara?’

  ‘Over here, my lord,’ said Folkvar.

  Finn hurried across the intervening space and then the cold stone in his stomach became a large rock as his gaze fell on the still form sprawled at their feet. Her bloodied sword lay by her outstretched hand. His jaw clenched. Not dead. She couldn’t be dead. He fell on one knee and very carefully turned her over, terrified of what he might see. Grim-faced he took in the waxen pallor of her cheek and the great splatter of gore soaking into her tunic. Where was the hurt? How bad was it? A swift check failed to find a wound. Not her blood, then. His gaze moved on to the cut on her head and the blood matting her hair and his heart sank. He felt her neck for a pulse. For one awful moment he couldn’t find one. Then his fingers detected it, weak but there at least.

  ‘I need to get her back to the hall for tending. The rest of you get Steingrim and the other carrion underground.’

  ‘Consider it done,’ said Unnr.

  ‘Bring Lara’s sword with you when you come.’

  Finn bent and lifted his wife carefully, with no more effort than if she had been a child. His throat tightened. She weighed nothing. Nor had she ever seemed as fragile or as vulnerable as now.

  He carried her back to the sleeping quarters and fired off a series of instructions to the startled servants. While they bustled about fetching water and cloths he laid Lara on the bed. Then he undressed her. He used his seax to cut away the tunic and shirt. The skin beneath was cold and alabaster pale but it was unblemished. He was right. The blood on the fabric wasn’t hers. That was something at least. Gently he turned her head and examined the cut there. Like all head wounds it had bled copiously but what bothered him more was the spreading black-and-red swelling around the cut. It must have been a heavy blow. Had it cracked her skull? Depressed the bone? Was there internal bleeding as well? He cleansed the injury as best he could and covered her with blankets and furs to keep her warm. Then he sat down to wait.

  * * *

  A little later Unnr appeared on the threshold bearing Lara’s sword. ‘I brought this, my lord, like you said.’

  Finn nodded. ‘I thank you. Put it over there in the corner.’

  Unnr duly obliged and then looked at the still figure in the bed. ‘How is she?’

  ‘As you see.’

  ‘She’ll be all right, won’t she? The lads will want to know.’

  Finn dredged up a wan smile. ‘She’s a fighter. She’ll come through it. She has to.’

  ‘Aye, right. Of course she does.’

  ‘I’ll let you know when she comes round.’

  ‘Good.’ Unnr hesitated. ‘Best get those cuts tended to, my lord. You won’t be much use to her if they get infected and you’re off your head with fever.’

  ‘You’re right. I’ll attend to it presently.’

  In truth Finn had forgotten about his injuries. Without the protection of the chain mail byrnie he couldn’t hope to escape unscathed but it might have
been much worse. But for Lara the odds would have been even greater. She’d taken out two of his opponents. His fear for her had lent strength to his arm. Either that or Steingrim was so confident of winning that he became careless. Finn broke through his guard and sped him with a single thrust through the gut, one of the most satisfying strokes he’d ever delivered. He didn’t have long to celebrate though because two others attacked him and he was hard-pressed for a while, losing sight of Lara. The few short minutes between then and the arrival of his sword brothers had been enough for the harm to be done.

  He looked at her and his throat tightened. Why did you come back? Why didn’t you save yourself? He’d done his best to make her go, to turn her away from him. To achieve it he’d been prepared to say anything, no matter how cruel or how untrue. He really thought it had worked at first but then she came back. Incredibly, improbably, against all reason she came back. Lara wasn’t conceited about her fighting skills. She must have known there was a better than even chance of getting killed, of them both getting killed. Yet she’d chosen to stay with him, to die with him. I do love you, Finn. He shut his eyes, remembering that conversation. It hadn’t been a throwaway comment at all. She’d meant every word. Her actions today proved that beyond doubt. There was no greater love.

  The knowledge smote him, more painful by far than the cuts he had received in the fighting. He should have told her the truth. The chance had been there and he’d let it pass. Now there might never be another. She might die believing every lying word he’d uttered today.

  He remained where he was for some time but without seeing any change in her condition. Eventually he permitted one of the servants to bathe and bind his injuries, and then donned fresh clothing. Having done that, he arranged for a straw palliasse to be fetched and set down near the bed. He wouldn’t risk disturbing Lara so he was going to have to sleep on the floor for a while. It would also mean he would be on hand if she needed anything.

  * * *

  For the remainder of that day and all of the night he watched over her but Lara did not stir or wake. In the meantime the bruising had darkened and spread, a hideous red-black mass discolouring her brow and temple and cheek. The lump at the site of the blow was the size of his palm. With great care he laid a cold compress over it, changing it regularly. Still she didn’t move. Sometimes he checked for a pulse just to reassure himself that she was still alive.