by Rae Monet
"Bjorn, how can they know where to go?"
He grinned and tapped his heart. Although he didn't speak English well, his hand gestures amused her.
"They know. Here.” He touched his chest.
She smiled. Someone shouted, and she turned.
"What is it?” she asked, not seeing anything but fog.
Bjorn squinted. “Glacier,” he said.
Glacier? What is he talking about? We are in the middle of the ocean.
Then she saw it. It was enormous, standing taller than her eyes could touch. It appeared like an island of white ice. Sable felt stunned and slightly awed.
A mammoth piece of ice broke off and crashed into the ocean, not ten feet from their ship, kicking up an enormous ripple. The ship swayed, and Eirik began shouting instructions. Men scrambled about the ship to oar a path clear of the ice.
"Gods, I have never seen the like.” She twisted, her eyes following the massive hunk of ice.
Bjorn clapped his hands together. “We hit, we die."
She shuddered.
Men positioned themselves on each end of the ship with long steel rods.
"What are they doing?"
He made a thrusting motion with his hands. “We hit. They push. We no die."
Sable doubted pushing a glacier with those rods would do any good. Maybe it made them feel like they were doing something to avoid disaster. Eirik, who seemed to be elected leader, continued to shout instructions. The rowers slid the ship by the glacier, missing it by inches.
Twice more during the day, the men rowed furiously to avoid glaciers, while Sable watched and shivered. Worse than the fear of hitting one of the islands of ice and sinking was the cold. She had never felt this kind of cold before. Scottish winters were wet and it frequently snowed in the mountains, but never to this extreme. Made sense, considering their destination was Iceland. But Sable had heard the stories: Greenland had ice; Iceland had green. So where was the ice coming from?
"Is it always like this?"
Bjorn nodded. “For last 20 years, ocean freeze three times. And Vikings no sail. If Vikings no sail, Vikings no trade. People in villages starve."
So that's why Eirik's people were starving.
Bjorn continued, “And in home, not only ice—big mountain blow."
Big mountain blow?Sable cocked her head and watched him make motions with his hand. First he drew an outline of a mountain with his fingers, then taking his hands, he exploded them into the air. He ended the charade with a gust of whooshing noises.
"Blow."
Then it dawned on Sable. He was talking about a volcano. Realm travelers had brought stories of such events, but she had never witnessed one.
Gods, what these people must be going through.
Eirik approached, and Bjorn left to take Eirik's place at the oar.
"We are close, nearly there.” Eirik dropped his arm around her shoulders and rubbed her.
"It is unbelievably cold here."
Eirik glanced around them. “In the last twenty years, it has gotten colder and colder with each turn of the season."
"Bjorn told me about your plight. Why don't you move? Take your people to another place?"
"Many have. Thousands of people originally settled in Iceland. Now our numbers have dwindled.” He shook his head. “Some believe this will pass, that the gods are testing our people. They stay because they are stubborn. My father is one of these men.” His gloved hand clenched on her shoulder. “I can't leave my family."
Sable covered his hand with her own.
"I understand.” Thinking about her Wolf Warrior clan, her heart tightened, as if someone clamped a hand around it.
"Thank you ... for not questioning my loyalty."
She arched a brow. “Your judgment about slaves I question, but your loyalty—I do not."
He chuckled.
Someone shouted. They both turned to look. Out of the fog towered the coast of a magnificent island. Iceland. Proud in its beauty. A sea of green with huge brown patches covering the land. Two mountains peaked the hills; one was smoldering, smoke waving out of its top. As if stationed to welcome them, Viking longboats littered the coastline. The ice floes that had followed them from Scotland drifted lazily around the ship.
They maneuvered around the large masses of ice and skimmed right up to the beach. The men hopped out and hauled the ship onto the rocky sand. Eirik helped Sable out and handed her to Bjorn. Eirik turned back and took charge again. With the cadence of his voice, the men worked as one to carry the ship onto land. Sable took in the view around her.
This is a harsh land, she thought.
And I am now beached like these abandoned Viking ships.
She bit her lip and her fists clenched. Escape would be impossible now.
Eirik walked over and stood by her side.
The man who had hit her in Scotland was glaring at her again, giving her a silent message that he wasn't done with her. Sable narrowed her eyes and stared back at him. He chanted some Norse words. Eirik stiffened and snapped back, his voice sharp and his eyes glowering. Scowling, the man turned and left.
"Who is that man?"
"That is Axe. Best to stay clear of him. He has not developed a liking for you. He belongs at a different settlement than my own. He used to raid my village."
"Why?"
Eirik shrugged. “Because that is what Vikings do. We are so desperate for supplies now, taking what others have is a matter of life and death."
He began storing their gear, tying what he would carry to his back. Another man approached. Sable looked up, she recognized him from Scotland.
Another Viking God.
This man was as large as Eirik, with blond hair and striking blue eyes.
"This is Leif. He is my other man."
Sable nodded to him. “Greetings."
He nodded back and greeted her in his native language.
"You and I will travel to my village,” Eirik said to Sable. “We will recruit men to haul our supplies and ship. Leif and Bjorn will stay and guard what is ours until we can return."
Sable was amazed they needed to guard their supplies. In the Realm all was shared. Rivalry for simple food stock was unfamiliar to her. She frowned, saddened by their situation.
"You ready?"
Sable picked up a pack of supplies, and they began their trek. “So with just you and me,” she said, “does this mean I don't have to walk in your wake?"
He laughed, his face lit with those adorable dimples. Reaching up, he caressed her cheek, then leaned forward and followed his touch with his mouth. Sable sighed and basked in his touch. How could this man who claimed her as a slave make her feel so treasured?
"Yes, walk beside me,dýrr ."
She smiled back.
"Then by all means, let's go."
Chapter Seven
Standing on the ridge overlooking the encampment, Sable watched the daily life of the Viking settlement. She estimated one hundred people lived here. She had expected much more. There were multiple wooden structures plus livestock enclosures, horses corralled in one, cattle in another. Larger outbuildings dotted the settlement. A small river careened next to the settlement. The activity was familiar: men tending cattle, children playing, women at the river gathering water. If it hadn't been for the thick fur jackets and hats everyone wore, she might have thought she was back in the Solarian Realm.
"Your village is small."
"At one time this settlement was over 1000 strong. Now..."
Sable shuddered. “What happened?"
Eirik was digging through his pack. He drew out a rope. She tensed.
"Famine, disease.” He nodded toward the mountain. “The volcano.” He pointed toward the sea. “The ice. We are a dying people."
"I don't understand. Why you don't leave?"
He shrugged. “Would it be so easy for you to leave your home?"
Sable put her hand over her left breast. Her heart ached for her land, her people, and her
wolf. When King Edward the First had tried to kill all the Solarians, they had been forced to relocate. The move had saved the lives of many children. Families thrived today because of their leader's decision. Now they lived in a secret location in the Scottish Highlands. She couldn't imagine leaving there, or what would have happened if they had not left.
"It would be near impossible to leave our home."
"Then you understand. Now give me your hands."
"But had our leader not relocated us, many would have died. And because we left we found a better place. Sometimes you have to take chances."
Ignoring her last remarks, he unwrapped the rope, letting it fall in front of him.
Sable kept her hands hanging on her sides. When he reached for her, she danced back.
"Sable.” His voice was harsh with warning. “If you are going to enter my village, it must be as my slave. The rules have not changed."
Sable growled.
He sighed.
She bent her knees.
His eyes narrowed.
"You want to bind me ... then come and get me."
He gave her a wolfish grin and acknowledged the challenge with a nod. Sable brought her fists up, prepared to fight. They circled around each other, and Eirik smiled. Sable's anger coupled with another annoying emotion—desire, slowed her reactions. Eirik was so incredibly handsome. Circling around her, he twirled the rope.
She tried to shut off her emotions and let her instinct take her, but tussling with him aroused her passions. Instead of socking him in the nose, she wanted to tackle him, take him down to the ground, and—
Yelling, he swooped on her. Moving lighting fast, he twirled the rope and wrapped it around her legs. He tugged. She went down with an “ughhh,” and he fell on top of her.
It feels wonderful. Too wonderful. Good God, I am a worthless warrior around him.
"You were saying?” He drew her to her feet. Although she struggled, he bound her hands in front of her body. He tied another rope to the original as a lead.
Sable cursed. Now that she was unable, she truly wanted to sock him.
Eirik tilted her chin up with his finger, and she jerked her face away.
"You are beautiful, especially when you are angry.” Turning, he pulled on the rope, leading her to his family.
Sable tried to dig her feet in, but it was no use. She was jerked after him, stumbling and almost falling. Catching her balance, she decided she wouldn't be dragged into his camp. She was a warrior and would face her fate with pride. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin and stepped as if she were walking next to her wolf.
The people stopped what they were doing to watch their leader coming down the hill. A cheer went up and reverberated through the village. Raising his arm, Eirik answered the shouts with a yell of his own. The villagers approached him and he made his way to the center of the gathering. Men clapped him on the shoulder, while the women kissed his cheeks. A small girl came running through the crowd yelling his name.
"Eirik."
He smiled and opened his arms, then scooped the little girl into them.
Sable was furious. How dare he flaunt his bastard in front of her? She tugged on the rope.
Eirik turned towards her. “Sable, this is my sister, Ericka."
Relief swept through Sable. “Pleased to meet you, Ericka.” She tried to raise a hand but ended up lifting her bound wrists.
"Hello.” Ericka's accented English was adorable. She pivoted in Eirik's arms and asked something in a foreign language.
"Speak in English, please, darling."
"Why do you bind her, brother?” Her quizzical face was almost comical.
"She is my slave, sweetling."
"Slave?” Her head jerked back to Sable. “But Eir..."
Eirik stopped her before she could continue, lowering her to the ground. “Go get Mother."
"But..."
He tweaked her nose and shook his head, then swatted her on the butt. “Go."
She made a face and flounced off.
Eirik picked up Sable's bound hands. She tried to jerk away, but his stern look stopped her. He raised her hands above her head.
"This woman is my slave, Sable, claimed from the spoils of a battle in Scotland. No one will dispute my claim or assist her in escape! If they do ... they will face my wrath. Is this understood?"
The group yelled their agreement.
Sable signed. He had just made it near impossible for her to get away. Although she wasn't even sure where she would go in this harsh land.
Just great.
An attractive older woman approached, her hair pale blonde, lines on her face etched by laughter.
"Dýrr."
"Mother.” Eirik hugged her.
"Mother, this is Sable, my slave.” The strange look on his face made Sable frown.
"Your sla..."
"Yes, Mother, my slave.” He gave her a negative shake of his head.
She spoke rapidly in a language Sable couldn't understand. One word tumbled after another, almost as if scolding him.
"English, please,” he said.
His mother shook her head and turned toward Sable.
"I am Anika. I am pleased to welcome you to our settlement.” She glared at Eirik. “Despite your status."
Sable nodded. “Thank you."
"Come.” Anika pointed at Sable's wrists. “If you promise to behave, I will take you to bathe and eat."
Sable glanced at Eirik and raised her eyebrow. He raised his back.
"Yes, Sable, can you promise?"
She turned back to Anika, whose serene expression reminded Sable of the Goddess of Peace. Sable really wanted a bath and food. Also, she hated to hurt this woman's feelings. Anika gazed at her with kindness and understanding, as if she saw into Sable's heart.
"I promise."
Anika put her hands on her hips. “Eirik, release her."
Like a small boy obeying his mother's order, Eirik drew a long knife from his belt. He stepped past his mother, and Sable grew taut. He slowly sliced the rope at her wrists, then flipped the knife back into his belt. Instead of allowing her to move, he imprisoned her wrists with his hands.
"Behave."
Sable's jaw tensed. Another order. She knew what she wanted to do with his orders.
He leaned close and lowered his voice. “Please, Sable, this is my family."
His ‘please’ made her waver. She looked up into his pleading eyes, and her wavering changed to melted knees. She nodded once.
"Very well."
Anika wrapped her arm around her and led her to a small wooden structure. “I will take you to Eirik's jarlshouse rather than one of the longhouses. There will be more privacy for you there.” She shouted a few orders as they approached the house. “I have asked them to bring water and food,” she said.
Inside Eirik's house, the warmth and homey feeling surprised Sable. A fire burned in the center; smoke trailing through a hole in the roof. A large bed sat to one side, piled with fur pelts. Eirik's personal items littered the room. A small carved wooden boat sat on a beautiful dresser. A small bathing tub sat in the corner, reminding her of her first bath by Eirik's hands. She shivered, her nipples straining.
Anika led her to a wooden table with benches. “They will be here shortly. Tell me how you met my son."
"Ahh, well.” Sable wasn't sure what to say.I tried to kill him and his men in battle and lost. You son knocked me out then claimed me as his slave.
Anika patted her on the hand. “Do not worry, Eirik is a good man."
A knock sounded at the door. Anika arose and ushered in several women. They carried food, clothing, and one had a pail of steaming hot water. The woman drug out the small lap tub and poured the water into it.
"You must be tired,” Anika said. “I will leave you now. Please make yourself at home."
Sable glanced at the food on the table. “I know food is sparse here. Please take some back if needed for the others."
Anika ra
n her hand along Sable's cheek and jaw, her expression filled with tenderness. “Share with Eirik, if you will."
Sable nodded, biting her lip.
"Please. Bathe, then rest."
"I will. Thank you for everything,” she said with heartfelt sincerity. Anika treated her more like an honored guest instead of a slave.
Anika squeezed Sable's hand. “You are very beautiful. I can see why my son is taken with you."
"Oh, no..."
Anika gave a disbelieving smile and turned to leave.
"Anika."
She turned. “Yes, Sable."
"What does the worddýrr mean?"
Anika gave her a strange look, then she waved her hand as if trying to translate.
"Dýrr, it means, how do you say—most highest loved one. That is the best way I can use to explain it. Used by mothers for their sons, and a man towards his wife."
Her explanation stunned Sable. “Thank you, Anika,” she said, her voice faint.
"You are welcome.” Anika pivoted and left, leaving Sable to wonder about Eirik's choice of words.
Dýrr? If I'm sodýrr, why does he treat me like a slave?
Chapter Eight
He walked into his jarlhouse, not making a sound, wanting to surprise Sable. Instead she surprised him, bathing in his small lap tub, her back to him.
Once he closed the door with the quiet stealth he'd use stalking an enemy, he stripped his clothes off, dropping them on the wooden floor as he approached her. She sang softly in Scottish, a song that made him think of green grass and blue skies, and making love to her under the bright sun.
She was so beautiful, so feminine. The whiteness of her skin accented her lovely cures. Her hair fell into the small of her back, rich and thick. He couldn't wait to delve his hands into it. He craved the feel of that brown silk against his skin.
As she stroked the sponge in a circle over her breastbone and up to her neck, Eirik felt his desire mount. The water trapped on the sponge, released, then dripped down her breasts in a slow trail. As he watched the water curve over her nipple, heat encompassed his entire body. His cock stood at attention.
