As the dark-maned Viking or red horsemen, or devil, or whatever evil he was is distracted by the blonde, I decided now would be my best chance at escape. I act now, setting my teeth, and I take my hand holding the dagger raising my arm over my head, the fabric protesting the movement, and swing down at his unprotected arm.
The entirety of the dagger gets lodged in his flesh and in an instant, I am released at the sound of a pained grunt from his lips. He had dropped me.
I land on my butt, the impact causing me to wince and inhale, the pain stealing my breath. The discomfort, however, doesn’t stop me from scrambling to my shaken limbs and I see the arm and the blood which pours down it from the wound I had inflicted upon his flesh.
So, the horsemen or demons could really bleed. They were just like men, but I don’t look long before I start to flee again, hoping this time I would escape. As I am running, I can’t help but look over my shoulder to see what he is doing.
I see his lip curl as he yanks the dagger from the flesh of his forearm and the knife is then tossed to the ground making a clattering noise. I see him knee his horse, the wound only stealing his breath for a time.
That is when I decide it would be best to go back to the small alley, his horse and him could not fit in such a small space. If I do not run here, I would be captured again, just like the last time but this time I wouldn’t have a second chance. My dagger was lost forever.
I dash between the two buildings again, barely escaping the thunder of hooves, but before I could get much further, I hear his boots smacking the ground.
He must have jumped off his still running horse, already seeing through my plans. I couldn’t get caught, but it was my fate to be captured again, an arm forcefully drawing me back to the red horseman.
I let out a shrill scream, anger, frustration, and fear coursing through me and out my lungs. He tries to hold me still, but the words are “he tries” because I fight with everything I have. I would have nothing left if he had his way with me.
I twist and swing my arms about wildly. My thrashing is violent. I kick my arms out, swinging, and I do land a few good blows on him.
I say my blows were good because I knew I’d inflicted a good amount of pain since he had grunted each time, so I figured I had hurt him. However, this wasn’t good enough. He needed to feel more pain, so I reach up with my free arm, and I scratch his cheek. I was hoping to rip one of his eyes out, but I fail, though my wildness seems to be the final straw as he sneers showing all his teeth. I had no idea or even heard rumors about savages having rather sharp and elongated fang-like teeth.
I’d never seen such teeth on a man or woman before, so it made me wonder. The black mane’s teeth reminded me of that of the wolf which came in with the entertainers last spring and it had snarled and snapped at its master several times like how the black maned man was doing to me.
So, this man was a wolf. He was one of the wolves the seer had warned me about. I still in his arms, watching as a man’s eyes became eyes belonging to a wolf, the devil’s pet.
I am pulled closer to this man I had stabbed and before I knew it, I felt pressure pressing against my skin at the junction between my neck and shoulder. I then hear a distinct pop meaning my skin was pierced and pain starts radiating off it in waves.
I scream loudly, the loudest in my entire life, the pain at first bearable but quickly becoming agonizing. The pain was extreme and searing, burning my blood, originating from the junction of my neck and shoulder.
His teeth had hurt my small body badly. What was the purpose of doing this? I was just a child and hot tears roll down my face. What would I do now?
My neck wasn’t the only thing burning but also my eyes. The pain was just so excruciating. I feel the pressure of his teeth leave my skin and it was a small relief.
The downfall was that once his teeth left my skin, I couldn’t keep my blurry eyes open. Everything turns black, the pain subsides, and my mind takes me to a much better place: home.
There would be no turning back for me just like the seer had predicted. I was now his...even from the very beginning.
Chapter 3
Captive
A monstrous wolf, with fur of darkness and with the eyes of white blue death, chased me through a bitter scape of ice and snow and wintered trees.
I dare not look back at the wolf, surely a loyal dog of Lucifer, the Devil, God’s once favorite son. I could hear its pants and the pounding of its feet crashing through ice and snow, its weight too much.
Its eyes haunted me, eyes belonging to the old who lingered between life and death, those who could not see and should be dead, though its eyes glistened telling me its vision was not lost.
It was as if this demon was the creature responsible for the blind’s loss of vision, stealing good God-fearing men of their sight for itself.
I feel its breath at my neck, a bone-chilling cold which lingers just before hell’s gates, a falsity about what truly lies beyond, hiding the fire and brimstone all which will melt a hell-bound soul’s renewed flesh over and over again.
I didn’t want to be dragged to the depths of hell by this monstrous wolf creature, and I try to run faster but my feet slow, it surely being the devil’s hands at work.
I look down, and the roots of the trees were breathing and wrapping around my feet, trapping me in place for the wolf to catch between its teeth likened to soldiers’ daggers.
I fall into the snow, the tree’s roots securing themselves tightly around my ankles and preventing my escape.
My heart slows, and the snow flurries floating from the sky empty of God’s presence halt their descent to join their brethren on the ground. The only noise I hear besides my loud pants is the crash of its giant paws which soon come to a halt just behind me.
Again, I feel the direct breath of the beast behind me, its breath and breathing like any stray, unwanted mutt in any old alley, foul and disgusting and much worse than a mangy dog. The breath was rancid, like a gong farmer before bathing, a chamber pot, or rotten meat...
I was doomed. I would be dragged to hell by this grotesque, monstrous wolf, a dog of Lucifer. I choke on the cold, the air harsh and cruel to my lungs, and tears fall from my eyes in self-pity over my position.
I question whether the existence of my God was real, and I feel guilt pang my heart for questioning him. Despite my ill-boding thoughts from fear of death, I think why has not my God come to save me from the wolf and the devil?
I squeeze my eyes shut, my tears pouring down my cheek and I try a last-ditch effort to crawl away. My attempt is a failure, my nails finding ice instead of soft snow.
It is impossible to escape. I can’t get my bearings, and I feel the hot breath on my neck, the stink worse than before. I know it is too late and I tense waiting for the pain.
Again, I feel a scorching pain in my neck, the feeling nauseating. I try to scream, and that is stolen from me like my short life.
I would never marry or have children of my own, all stolen from me by the wolf. I should have listened to my mother, and I knew that was my punishment from God.
Now because of my foolishness and the Devil leading me into temptation, my soul will be burning in the pits of hell for all eternity.
I shift and squirm, and I open my eyes which feel heavy, needing to see every last moment of my life.
However, after opening my heavy lids, I am greeted by a different scenario. I see very blue clear skies, and I feel the sway and rocking motion under my body carrying it back and forth, a teetering sensation.
I feel icy coldness stinging parts of my bare skin, and I inhale a large breath. I smell the stink of feces and piss and the ocean.
I groan, a sharp pain surfacing in my right shoulder as I try to gather myself. I feel softness under my fingertips reminding me of furs, but my mind wanders back to the stabbing pain in my shoulder.
I try to think, but thinking was hard, the wolf’s teeth in my skin was so painful. No...there was no wolf; it was a dream...Wh
ere was I?
I move slightly, the pain pulsing in my right shoulder still, enough for me to hold the wound I have yet to inspect.
I curl into the soft bedding, not ever recalling the blanket much like the injury I currently had. What did I do to my shoulder? It stings and aches, honestly feeling as if a wolf did bite me there.
My eyes look around wearily, my mind waking up and images of a man flash through my head...No, a savage, the red horseman—War, the Devil, had bitten me.
I grip my shoulder more. I could feel the wolf from my dreams haunting me while awake, and the nightmare I thought was only a childhood fantasy was a harsh reality.
I cannot escape my bad dreams as I finally understand the teetering motion was from being on a boat. I had only ever seen boats in the harbor. I had never once been on one myself.
My eyes catch the sun, the light blinding me, making me shrink back. I look the other way seeing more of the blue skies and not my bedroom ceiling.
I would never go back, and everything hits me. I would never lay in my bed. I would never play with my friends, and I would never see my mother, father, or my tutor. I would never see the priest, maids, nannies, gardeners, or soldiers.
Everything is fresh in my head—the Vikings had invaded my home, destroying it, slaughtering good men, and kidnapped me. One, in particular, had bitten me. It was the reason my neck throbbed.
I quickly sit up and feel sick with nausea when I do. The swaying motion was caused by waves constantly lapping the sides of the wooden boat making my stomach gurgle with unease. I press my back against the side, my eyes searching the inside.
I see tall, giant men everywhere I look startling and frightening me. There is no way for me to escape with so many surrounding me. Some were laughing and smiling while they held riches belonging to dead men and I could for sure say they would be cursed.
Their behavior is disgusting and appalling because their now wealth was not won with valor or glory but with cowardice, killing men from behind and without a weapon. Others who were not feasting their eyes on the gold had their eyes set on the vast openness of the gray ocean ahead of the boat.
As I look from one savage to another, I happen upon eyes not belonging to savages but my friends, Margaret, Samuel, and Elizabeth.
I am elated to see them and that they were here. I see other children with them, and the more I look, my happiness disappears.
I swallow, staring at their hands which are bound behind their backs and how chains connect them to the next child. I start thinking of escape with them, but I see they are also guarded.
An older man with a long beard sat in front of them looking as if he was about to pass out and clonk his head on the floor. He didn’t appear to be a tough adversary.
I just needed to kill him and run with them, and we could figure the chains out later. I had to help them, each one of their faces fearful and frightened, even Margaret. Her shoulders were shaking along with her bottom lip.
I let go of my shoulder and check my hands, finding them free of bulky chains.
‘Seems I wasn’t bound like they were...What did this mean? Why was I getting the privilege of having free hands? Perhaps they planned to torture me for revenge for stabbing one of their men, or they thought I was already dead,’ I think to myself in desperation.
I doubt they thought of me dead or they would have tossed me overboard, the stench of corpses brought diseases.
I clench my fist and when I do, I grab a fistful of that soft feeling thing. I then glance down, my eyes landing on the black fur coat.
I narrow my eyes as I think back to that heathen that I last saw before I had passed out. This was his coat. His disgusting coat...I didn’t want it anywhere near me.
I then move away from it, and I go to slide away, but when I do I see someone approaching from the corner of my eye.
My eyes then glance up to see the face of the blonde Viking, the one who I had bumped into with the sun tattooed on his forehead. He kneels to my level examining my face, and my breathing gets heavy in fear.
He smirks, the corner of his lips raising, and he speaks in their devilish tongue as his eyes lower to my neck. “So young...so fragile, yet he marked you with such brutality. Poor thing. Does not have a very bright future when you think about it. He will be breathing down her neck like a dog in heat once she grows a pair of decent tits.”
Whatever this man has said causes the other men to bellow and some to chuckle. My eyes wander around the boat to find a pair of blue eyes glaring at him. That man who had bitten me like an animal.
I look at him with hatred and touch the throbbing wound on my shoulder, peeling my lip back in a sneer. He had caused this...if I had not run into him, I would perhaps be with my mother.
The blonde Viking stands back up, his eyes still on me as he chuckles. “She is sneering like a wolf pup taken from the tit of its mother too early. Interesting lass, perhaps not all English.”
His words cause the rest to chuckle and for the devil who had bitten me, his glare worsens. The blonde Viking looks away pulling his hands behind his back and threading his fingers together before leaning up against a pole or the sail of the boat. His blue eyes have a sparkle to them probably from being the center of these “savages” attention.
Then another Viking speaks, this one having short cropped black hair with a beard as he holds a gold coin in between his forefinger and thumb. “Frey, I have a question for you. Why take her as your wife so young? What’s her purpose if you can’t even fuck her yet? What’s so special about the silver-haired little girl? There are so many women at home, begging to get into your trousers. So why her...? Some bratty girl from England?”
I see the man with the moon tattoo eyes travel from my direction towards the man speaking before he also says something in reply to the man. “She is the first woman to have successfully harmed me. I can see it in her eyes to be a fine shield maiden with some proper training. She isn’t like the rest of her people like Leif has mentioned. Maybe one of her fathers or mothers before her was one of us. She has a strong will. Though, I fear she might be a little too wild at the moment.”
The blonde Viking from before then gets in a word as he chuckles more. “Wild is not good for you, brother. I thought when you finally picked out a wife, she would be the one taming you down. Not making you even wilder than what you already are.”
The man with the crescent moon on his forehead grins slightly at whatever the blonde has said as his eyes cast away from the group of men to me again, and I instantly glare at him. “She already once has caused my wolf to surface before the full moon has even risen. I suppose wild women aren’t good for me or better yet my wolf.”
In this situation, I didn’t even know what to do. I had nowhere to run, and everywhere I looked these men and women had a weapon close to them. So, all I could do was sit and try not to call more attention to myself.
I pull my legs to my chest, and my eyes waver from person to person around the boat. Were they making us their slaves or were they selling us to others or something worse, like to be used in devilish rituals?
“Say, the girl must be hungry, Frey. She’s been out for nearly three full days. The bite probably traumatized her body. No one has been bitten so young, not to mention a human girl. Do not forget she is much more fragile than us.” A woman with long black hair in a ponytail speaks, her eyes narrowed at the man who had bitten me.
The woman has a sharp jawline with big brown eyes, and she sits on one of the many benches next to another Viking rowing the boat.
The other Viking next to her, is a man with bright blue eyes the color of the ocean and black paint under his eyes and partially running down his cheek. He looks mean, his eyes constantly narrowed, and his lips pulled down in a frown. On the side of his shaven head, black like vines crawl up his skin.
He speaks, his voice deep, rough, and rugged. “What are you talking about...? No one has been bitten so young? How old were you when I marked you Eira? Eleven?
Twelve? You seemed to handle it just fine.” He leans in towards the woman, his upper lip curling back showing his teeth in a smile. He continues, “And not long after, I fucked you too. being still a young lad myself. Couldn’t help it. Especially with you eyeing the chieftain’s youngest brat.”
The man’s cold blue eyes narrow upon the man with the sun tattoo but he doesn’t seem to care as he glares back, his arms crossed over his chest.
He then speaks in regard to the man—I wish I knew what they were spitting back and forth. “How many times must I tell you, Dag? I have and had no interest in Eira. We’ve all known since childhood she was to be yours. Plus, I like my women to have curves and at least having something for tits.”
Then the man next to the woman places his hand on her thigh, and I cringe at such behavior in public as his other hand holds on to the rower. His finger curls around her thigh tightly.
The mean looking man yells, his face scrunching up in a sneer, his voice making me flinch. “My Eira has a plenty beautiful body. Better than any of the whores you sleep with. You’re just jealous you can’t have her.”
“Yup, then I must be blind.” I hear the blonde speak again and the other growls as his muscle’s tense.
“Aye you must, as you seem to favor the mead hall wench,” says the man rowing, retorting back to the blonde Viking. The man has a smirk on his face as he stares at the other male.
I see the blonde man whose posture has been relaxed the entire time tense, his eyes narrowing in anger.
His lips begin to pull up and I could see his canine teeth, making me shrink back despite the fact that his sneer was directed at the man oaring. Though before anything escalates the woman next to the man oaring puts her hand on his chest.
She sighs, annoyed. Her voice is soft but clearly aggravated. “Leif, his tongue will bury him yet, but we are at Sea. Select a piece from his treasure. We are all friends, and I do believe there is something for your pretty lass.”
The blonde Viking’s anger vanishes, and he turns his head away before he states loudly in a foreign tongue, I wish I could understand, “I am a free man, but I will take you up on your kind offer for his tongue’s insolence.”
Wolves Among Danes Page 3
