Blood and Loyalty

by Abigail Riherd

  “You kept this from me.”

  “Yes.”

  Her chest was heaving, though she seemed aggravated more with his honesty now than his lack of it before. “You kept this from me,” she repeated.

  “I did. I kept this from you. I’m sorry.”

  “Your brother didn’t see Roe killed?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “So he could be alive. He could be down there right now. Both our brothers could be down there right now.” She turned her gaze back to the distance.

  Finn thought it was unlikely. She’d said it herself: her brother, though a Jarl, was from a small village with very little to offer in way of ransom or even just a good fight. “Yes,” he said anyway. “They could be together, alive.”

  She was quiet again, and Finn stepped behind her, letting his body press against the length of hers, his arms useless by his sides. “Ask me again,” she said at last.

  Finn’s tongue felt like sand. “What will you do if he’s dead?”

  “I’ll do what is right for my people.”

  She would marry Rurik.

  Finn shut his eyes, fighting the urge to pull her against him tighter. They were the same, truly. They’d do their duty; they’d honor their Jarl. It was too damn easy to love her. “The day is slipping away. Do you want to set up camp here or push on?”

  She leaned into him and he buried his nose in her hair, every inch of him screaming selfishly for one more night. Just one more night together and surely they could do what would be required of them.

  Disa sighed, her head turning into his chest for just a moment before she pushed away and started the long walk down the other side – the long walk towards uncertainty.

  They made the dark descent in silence for the most part, speaking only to warn the other about some hazard in their path. The night had a cold bite to it, the wind across her sweaty neck giving her an uncomfortable chill. She thought going down would be faster but the hours were melting into one another. She was exhausted. Disa wondered at how she could be so miserable now when hours earlier she’d been so happy.

  It had been a fantasy. It hadn’t been real. Men clad in black had murdered innocents, and she had selfishly run away into this dream, this delusion, this...whatever this was. She swallowed back more guilt at how badly she’d wanted to lay with Finn again even though her brother could be so close, injured and in pain or worse. It was obvious he felt the same way, which somehow made everything harder. She’d been watching in fascination all afternoon as his brute, upright demeanor kept slipping: the way he looked at her, the way he touched her hand or waist, even when he didn’t need to, the way he took her for no other reason than he wanted to, for no other reason than because she was his. Gods, she was. She was already his.

  Her brother wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be. She would find him, they would rescue him, and Disa would plead her case. She loved another. That’s all there is to it. And she didn’t know Rurik very well, but surely he wouldn’t keep his brother from happiness over a woman he’d met once. They were brothers, how different could they be?

  It’s why she’d stepped away from him when all she wanted to do was to be held. They had to finish this. They couldn’t keep falling together in the night and shying away in the day. She wanted more of this afternoon. She wanted thousands of them. She wanted bold daylight and a sure mouth and—

  “Shit.” Disa slid a few feet on the loose soil. Finn seized her under the armpit unceremoniously and yanked her back up.

  “Maybe I should lead now,” he whispered.

  “Then I’ll just tumble backwards instead.” Truthfully, she couldn’t bear to watch him just now, even in the dark. “We’re almost down.”

  Disa had hesitated to climb the ridge but Finn’s instinct had been right. The way had been difficult but they’d managed to come down ahead of the encampment. They kept to the wilderness in case there were men scouting ahead, but Disa had to agree that most of the danger probably waited behind them.

  “I don’t suppose you’d stay here if I asked you to?”

  Disa gave him a wry look. “What do you think?”

  He nodded once. “I wish you had a sword.”

  “So do I.”

  “We should check the horses first. Perhaps some lazy mercenary has left his pack with the animals.”

  Disa nodded once. “And then what? We can’t just wander between the bedrolls of a bunch of sleeping soldiers...can we?”

  “Definitely not,” he frowned. “I think you’d stand out too much.”

  “Maybe the lazy mercenary will have left a change of clothes? I could dress as a man. Be another soldier.”

  “No one would mistake you for a man. Trust me.”

  Disa rolled her eyes, secretly pleased to know the effect she had on him and ashamed of the pleasure at the same time. She should be furious at him, not pleased. “What then? Just stand here all night and wait for them to march by in the morning?” she asked with perhaps too much bite.

  He sighed reluctantly as if that’s exactly what he would prefer to do as opposed to hauling her into danger. “Walk the perimeter at a distance. We know the layout thanks to the view from the ridge, but we should see how many sentries are posted. Find the horses, find you a sword, and find the captives.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “No point in planning when we don’t know what we’re going to face. Don’t get caught, stay low, we’ll figure it out as we go.” Disa nodded in agreement, her heart racing with equal parts fear and excitement. Finn took a few steps before turning back to her. “Do not get caught.”

  “Ok,” she half laughed.

  “Do not. Get caught,” he repeated, his gaze intense.

  “Ok,” she whispered more seriously. Finn began to move forward again but she caught his arm. I love you. “Don’t get killed.”

  He hesitated then nodded once. “Ok.”

  Hours later and three treks around the fringe of the camp Disa was about ready to kick a horse intentionally. At least then maybe things would get a little more exciting. It was clear these men were foreigners. Finn seemed particularly offended at their lack of discipline, convinced there must be more guards hiding just out of sight.

  “I think this is it,” she whispered, exasperated.

  “How can they expect to win with men like this?”

  “Perhaps they think they’ve already won.”

  Finn considered this reluctantly. They were less than a day’s march from his home, and it was obvious they hadn’t met with any resistance. The men seemed inattentive at best, asleep at worst, and Disa would bet her life that the majority of them were drunk. “I think you’re right.”

  “Excellent,” Disa breathed. “Now can we please, please get me that sword?” She gestured towards one of the horses in exasperation. The sharp metal had been glinting at her all night.

  Finn rolled his eyes and commanded her to stay put. He was there and back in a moment with weapon and sheath in hand. Disa tied the leather belt around her waist and immediately felt better, stronger, and she wondered if the only reason she’d held her anger at bay for so long was the lack of steel in her hand. Whatever the reason, she didn’t feel like running any more, and she didn’t feel like hiding on the side of a cliff. She was spoiling for a fight.

  “No.”

  Disa blinked at Finn, confused. “No, what?”

  He shook his head again. “I know this look. I’ve seen it a hundred times in the sparring ring. But you’re not facing Grim; these soldiers may be arrogant and drunk, but they’re still soldiers. Stay behind me.”

  “Finn, I’m not an idiot. I’m not going to--”

  “Stay behind me.”

  “Fine,” she huffed. He kept staring at her and she waved him forward impatiently. “I said fine. I’ll stay behind you.”

  Finn finally accepted it and the two of them made their way around the horses towards what he thought were the Brother’s tents. He’d explained to Disa about the sl
aves from before and how Luta and been tied nearby. Disa doubted they’d get so lucky again, but they had to start somewhere.

  As predicted, neither Roe nor Rurik was to be seen, but all the thralls usually bustling around these too familiar tents were conspicuously absent as well. Disa was about to ask Finn what he thought when he dropped down suddenly and Disa did the same only barely in time.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say. We’ve been over this more times than I can count. It wasn’t your betrothed and it wasn’t the Lawspeaker’s woman.” A man had just come from the largest tent and Disa recognized his voice but couldn’t place it. “She was a Holmland girl and she’s dead. Stop hounding me about it.” Bassi stepped into the light and Disa reached forward reflexively, gripping Finn’s shoulder. He glanced back at her, acknowledging the unspoken words. They’re talking about me.

  He stumbled toward the edge of the woods, pulling himself free of his trousers just in time to urinate into the open air. “You’re disgusting,” drawled Oslaf as he came around the side of the tent to catch Bassi relieving himself.

  “This coming from the man who lost two wives in as many days,” Bassi shouted with laughter, swaying slightly where he stood, unconcerned that his companion didn’t share in the mirth. “Makes a man wonder what it is about you that makes them run, eh?”

  Disa was now gripping Finn’s arm so hard she was surprised he didn’t pull away, but he seemed too busy struggling with his own myriad emotions to notice. Her last memories of Oslaf were strange, colored with too much wine and buried under all the blood that followed, but seeing him only stoked her fiery anger. This was all the proof she needed, for wherever the brothers went, Oslaf was sure to follow. It was proof that Agnar and Ragnar, despicable slavers that they were, could now add butcher of innocents to their list of charming attributes. Disa rested her free hand on the hilt of her sword and felt a swell of pride to see Finn had done the same.

  “I wouldn’t talk about missing wives just now,” Oslaf sneered. “Not if you want to keep your head.”

  Bassi snorted but kept quiet, stuffing himself back into his pants with some difficulty. “She wasn’t your girl, and I’m not staying behind for a ghost.”

  “You’ll do as you’re told if you want payment.”

  “I wasn’t aware you were the man behind the purse. Did you come into some fortune in the last few hours?”

  Oslaf’s sickly pallor went bright pink as he drew himself up for a righteous tirade. “Watch your tongue. You’re nothing but a hired sword, and new swords are forged every day.” Bassi waved an unsteady hand at him and walked trippingly back to the tent. “YOU WILL SPEAK TO ME WITH RESPECT. I AM THE SPECIAL ADVISOR TO--”

  “What is this?” boomed a muffled voice. The whole tent shook as he burst through the flap and stomped into the middle of the drunken screaming match.

  Agnar.

  Finn sank lower, his arm reaching back to lay across Disa’s middle, like the man was going to somehow spot them in the dark and charge straight for her.

  “I don’t give a shit about your petty pride,” Agnar snapped, responding to someone’s mumbled excuses. “I will not have everything fall apart before we’ve even managed to take the big island. Either cross swords like men or shut up. I won’t have you squabbling like children outside their father’s tent.”

  The men glared at each with unspoken hostility. “I only wish for Bassi to do one more sweep of the woods for these mysterious women who keep slipping through his fingers,” Oslaf snapped.

  “No one has slipped through anything, and besides, at least I serve a purpose other than drinking wine and being a good doggie.”

  “ENOUGH,” Agnar growled, grabbing Oslaf by his collar and yanking him back.

  “Trouble?” sighed a fourth voice.

  Disa dropped her hand from Finn’s shoulder as that charming tone sent waves of heat down her body, her stomach suddenly roiling. She knew that voice. It was hazy like Oslaf’s: soaked in wine and buried in blood, but she knew it. She looked at Finn but this time he didn’t look back.

  He rounded the corner idly, a jug of wine in one hand, a cup in the other, only the slight reddening of his cheeks betraying his drunken state. “Finn,” she whispered, but Finn ignored her, his entire body tense, his gaze so intent on his brother, Disa was surprised he couldn’t feel it boring into him.

  “Rurik. Excellent. If you two have a dispute, take it before your Jarl. I’m finished here.” Agnar snatched the jug from Rurik’s grip and stomped back inside.

  Silence hung heavy around the trio, only Finn’s brother seemingly unperturbed. “You are in need of your Jarl?” he prompted. Bassi spat on the ground at Rurik’s feet and said nothing, only the tightening of Rurik’s mouth hinting that he’d understood the slight.

  “I’d rather discuss this with Ragnar,” Oslaf finally retorted.

  The blow was so fast it made Disa flinch, the crack sounding more like a whip than Rurik’s backhand. Oslaf staggered sideways, his mouth open in a soundless cry, and caught himself just before he fell. He straightened slowly, his palm rubbing across his stricken cheek as his wide eyes watered. “It’s time for you to accept me, Oslaf,” Rurik remarked mildly as he sipped his wine, the flash of violence evaporating in a moment. “Nothing you all have achieved would have been possible without me, and while you may be the brothers’ creature, I am the Jarl now. Your respect is long overdue.”

  Disa dug her fingers into the dirt, her head spinning, too afraid to touch Finn who seemed a statue of himself.

  “Ay,” Oslaf agreed with petulant reluctance. “Sorry.”

  “Now, what is it you two were shouting about?”

  “I think Bassi should stay behind and sweep the woods when we move on, make sure we’re not being followed.”

  “I’ve been all over this island for weeks now. Nobody is out there, at least no one of any importance. We’re not being followed or stalked and nobody is raising an army; hell, nobody is even talking about what happened. They either don’t know or don’t want to know.”

  “And I’m sure you rode into town and asked kindly,” Oslaf droned.

  “It’s not my fault those women didn’t want you so you can stop--”

  “Enough,” Rurik commanded. “That’s enough. Bassi, you’ll keep a few men and do as Oslaf says.”

  “But--”

  Rurik sharpened his gaze, his charming facade falling away at once, and dared Bassi to disobey him again. “Do not test me just now. From your tales, I’m not entirely sure you haven’t allowed our enemies to creep closer to the truth.”

  “If they managed to escape the fire, you said your brother would be in the north with your intended. You said you commanded it.” Bassi skirted along the edge of impertinence.

  “Ay, I did. But if he realized my dearest brother-in-law is dead, he might not be so inclined to leave her there. He could be on his way to our home even now.”

  Disa felt dizzy, the sickening heat from before making her anxious to move. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have killed her brother then,” Oslaf suggested, as he looked sideways at Rurik.

  “What’s done is done,” he barked. “Roe is dead, and a good thing, too, seeing as you both have been such colossal disappointments. I doubt we could have trusted you to do the deed.”

  They were still talking but everything sounded like a dull buzz. Disa tried to accept what she was hearing but couldn’t. The charming, soft Rurik had helped the brothers’ slaughter all those people. Her soon-to-be husband was boasting of killing her brother. He claimed to have killed Roe.

  “Liar,” she choked as the men turned back to the tent. “Liars!” she repeated, louder this time, the stop in her throat loosening. Disa stood, sword drawn without conscious effort and stormed towards the cowards and murderers.

  This ended now. Blood for blood. She would kill them all.

  Finn couldn’t sense his body. He felt a bizarre calm as he listened to every traitorous word, observing his brother with detached i
nterest as he flowed easily between the Rurik he knew and an eerie reflection of their father, charming and cruel. And drunk.

  Disa was behind him, moving, maybe whispering, but he couldn’t look at anything else. Rurik had killed Roe.

  This isn’t happening.

  Finn felt a rush of emotion suddenly, all of it making him sick. How did everything get so fucked?

  The men moved back into the tent and Finn considered his options, feeling more like a warrior than he had in weeks. Suddenly, the bushes around him shook and Finn barely had time to register the feel of Disa’s legs as she brushed past him, steel in hand and shaking with rage.

  “Liars!” she very nearly shouted, and Finn felt paralyzed by terror before his sense returned.

  He leaped to his feet and rushed at Disa, one hand clamping over her mouth while the other wrapped around her waist and lifted her bodily from the ground. She struggled fiercely, alternating between reaching forward and pushing him away, the edge of her sword catching his forearm more than once. Finn sucked a breath between his teeth but didn’t lessen his hold. He kept moving back through the woods, the only real plan to get her as far away as fast as possible, pleading with the gods to not let any soldier hear their hasty retreat.

  He cut across to the horses and grabbed at the reins of the first beast he saw, uncovering Disa’s mouth just long enough to vault astride it, yanking her up after him. She wasn’t trying to scream anymore, but her breath was ragged and unchecked, and he kept his grip around her middle just in case. Luck was on his side as the animal was not only swift but obedient, galloping down the path with a few swift kicks.

  Finn didn’t know where he was going, he just knew they had to get away. Forward seemed the best option. Should he go home? Alert his men? Would they even believe him? Or would Rurik have already sent a messenger to prepare them to accept the brothers and their mercenaries out of some false promise of protection against the cowards who’d attacked the Thing, forgetting to mention that they themselves were the perpetrators.