Authors: Kerri M. Patterson
"Valdrik,"
came Geera's scolding voice.
He
turned to her at his side, her sudden appearance throwing him off guard.
"Where are Stieg and Ragnarr?" he asked.
"You
should be asking where is your wife!"
Her
frantic tone dropped his heart to his feet. "My wife?"
"Aye!
Your men have all gone after her, for she left a half-hour ago to avenge
you!"
"She
did what?" he barked, starting down the dais steps at once. His step
faltered only slightly and he shook his head, but that did not help. His vision
blurred instantly, and he was forced to stand still or risk falling.
"Before
you go, you must know something," Geera said.
Perhaps
it was his injured head, but he could not discern what might be more important
than him catching his daft wife before she got herself killed. "What?"
he asked, moving again toward the double doors, Geera trailing in his steps.
"She
is with child," Geera said.
Valdrik
stopped. His conscious mind fell away from his body in that moment as he turned
back to Geera. "What did you say?" His concern was sharp.
"She
is with child," Geera repeated more gently.
His worry for his wife doubled tenfold and
then turned to fury. "How could she do such a foolish thing?" he
thundered and issued a curse.
Valdrik
took giant strides from the hall, more eager than before to catch Finna. He
hoped his men were not far behind his wife.
Chapter
Thirty-Three
Finna's
booted foot landed perfectly at the seam of the doors to Aldar's hall, a place
she hadn’t seen in what seemed like forever—a place she had not ever wished to
see again.
"Aldar!"
She roared his name across the open expanse of hall, her figure stark in the
doorway. All there paused at her presence. The men she used to lead, their
stares turned from the women in their laps to her, the thralls paused in the
middle of the giant room, and there, sitting above them all, Aldar slowly set
away his goblet of wine as he looked upon her.
His
stare steadily glided from her feet to her head, but he didn't seem too overly
alarmed at her presence.
"Are
you addled, niece?" he asked evenly.
Finna
tilted her head at him. It was the first he had ever called her niece.
So
he was done with his games, was he?
"Nay,
uncle," she answered just as smoothly and glided further into the hall.
"I want your blood on my sword for what you have done to my husband. To my
family
." She breathed in the
scene before her, remembering the last time she stood in this hall before these
men.
Oh,
how her life had changed.
Aldar
had made a serious mistake by crossing her the way he had.
He
should know what kind of monstrous fury he'd kindled—for though he'd not sired
her, he had raised her.
He
had taught
her to wield a blade and had trained her to take down men.
Now,
she would take down Aldar.
Finna
angled at Aldar the sword she had taken from the smith's forge on her way out
of the village.
"I
challenge you, Aldar Leiknir. A fight to the death, do you accept?"
Aldar's
laugh started low and grating and only grew. Again, like the last time she was
in this hall, Aldar's men followed him in his humor.
But
as their laughter died away, it was Finna's light snicker that remained. She
chuckled darkly. "Strange you should laugh, 'tis not the sound I would
match with heralding your death."
"You
really think you can defeat me?" Aldar said and motioned for a man to
bring his sword. He stood from his seat and took the long blade as he started
from the dais, not as to attack her, but he approached, leaving a good distance
between them.
The
air changed violently as soon as Aldar took up his weapon, and Finna braced
herself for anything.
"Before
I kill you," he started, "do you wish to know what brought all this
about?"
"I
already know," she answered.
"Do
you?" He sounded surprised, doubtful. "Did he tell you how much I
loved your mother?" Aldar asked, speaking of Hadarr. He frowned, his brow
gathering. "How old are you, Finna? Do you know I do not even know that? I
do not even remember how many years it has been since I laid eyes on Surguilde
last, yet, I still love her as if it were an hour ago I saw her." He
looked out, past Finna, as though he saw the woman he spoke of.
Finna
swallowed. She'd thought him a wicked man, a monster, but perhaps even monsters
had relatively sound motives to their own imagining. In this moment, she could
well understand that perhaps Aldar truly believed all he had done was just.
She
thought back over all that he had carried out in the name of his vast love for
her mother—and then to some things that had no relation to her. Like what he
had done to Valdrik's village.
"She
never loved you," Finna said. Those were perhaps the cruelest words she
could utter to him. Nothing else would compare.
Aldar's
gaze snapped to her. "Did she tell you that?" he asked.
"She
didn’t have to," Finna taunted. "One only has to see the way she
looks at Hadarr, my father, the man she
chose
."
Aldar
came at her then, the first swing of his sword meeting with Finna's. She
blocked him and turned, thrusting at him. Their blades locked.
"Why
did you decimate a village east of here three winters ago?" Finna asked
through gritted teeth as she strained to push her uncle back. She brought her
knee up betwixt his legs then and spun away before he could react. "'Tis
the only thing I do not understand."
His
sharp intake of breath filled the hall as he gathered himself. "Damn you,
girl," he growled.
"Why?"
Finna asked clearly now, angling her sword, ready for his next attack.
Aldar
shook his head. "I do not even remember such a village. ‘Twas three years
ago."
"You
would remember. You took extra delight in torturing those people for some sick reason.
You left none alive, save Isaguilde."
"Isaguilde,"
he said her name as though his mind lighted on something. "So she did her
duty to me and kept her word then." He stuck his tongue between his lower
lip and teeth, bulging out his chin as he chuckled darkly. "She was eager
to help once she found out where her long lost lover had been all these
years."
"I'm
sure," Finna said with a snarl.
His
dark laughter sent a shiver up Finna's spine. "Nay, she didn’t wish to
regain his affections."
Finna
frowned. "What?"
"She
wished to see him dead for taking her from her home. She came to me after
Grahund was taken and vowed that she would aid me however I wished, if I would
only see her back to her homeland when she had finished."
"I
do not believe that. All she did was fawn over Valdrik."
"Of
course she did. She distracted you enough that you did not see my plan
surfacing. She freed the captives and got my brother's men out of Hadarr's
walls, did she not?"
"But
why? You succeeded in
nothing
. Only a
handful of our men were wounded, and you lost more than Hadarr."
"Oh?"
he said, his brows rising. "Are you so sure of that? Mayhap you should not
have left home, niece. What awaits when—if—I allow you to return?"
Finna
paused. For a moment the sword in her hands drooped, the weight becoming equal
to the heaviness bearing down on her heart. "What have you done?" she
asked in a whisper. "What have you done?" The question swirled around
her mind as she scrambled for an answer.
Aldar
chuckled darkly again. "The answers have been there all along. Come now,
Finna, piece them together."
He
swung at her then, catching her off guard, and Finna fell back a step before
she managed to right her position. She cried out with the force of his next
blow but parried and twirled to the left out of his reach, circling, waiting,
at the ready once more.
What
could he mean?
"I
had no idea that when I attacked those people your future husband would rise
from the ashes I left in my wake."
Finna
tilted her head at him, not trusting his words for a moment. As with everything
Aldar did, it was designed as a ploy to distract.
He
clucked his tongue. "I'd not known any were left alive, much less that
they would take up shelter with my brother." He struck at her. "Your
husband has been a pain in my side ever since. ‘Twas a joy in finding out
Isaguilde's secret when Grahund went missing."
"Oh,"
Finna said, narrowing her gaze on him.
"I
knew she would do anything to get him back. She couldn’t wait to aid me."
"Will
you just tell me whatever it is you have done so we might get on with
this," Finna snapped, and the clang of steel rippled throughout the room.
"I for one cannot wait to lop your head from your shoulders."
Aldar
narrowed his eyes to slits. "I killed those people just to kill
them," he said gruffly. "I grew tired of having my hands tied when
attacking my brother, for fear that harm would come to your mother."
Finna
snorted. She should have known better than to try to equate rational strategy
with insanity. "And?"
"And
now, your valiant husband has been felled, many of your men dispatched, and
most the rest are too injured to make any stand. If there are any left amongst
them to come to your aid, I suppose they are quick on your heels. Your sister,
she is busy tending those who have been injured. And you, you are here with me.
Right where I wanted you." He was silent a long moment, his dark eyes
glistening, dancing with his laughter. "Who does that leave to defend
them, Finna? Who does that leave in your father's company?"
"Isaguilde."
That name coming from her lips left an acrid taste in her mouth. Finna shut her
eyes for the briefest moment. "She will try to kill my father, won't
she?"
Aldar
nodded. "'Tis what I have wanted all along. ‘Twould have been sweeter to
have seen you take his life. What vengeance could equal that?" His guffaw
racked the hall.
Finna
swung blindly then, in a rage. He had fooled her all along!
Aldar
met her blows one by one, and then his fist shot out and caught her face.
With
a cry, Finna fell to the side, rolled, and gained her feet.
She
sniffed, but the blood running down from her nose did not abate. She swiped at
it as her vision cleared, just in time to see Aldar coming at her again. Finna
took a jab at him and sliced his cheek.
He
bellowed and feinted a strike that threw her off kilter. Aldar took the chance
to land a solid kick to her belly that sent Finna sprawling to the floor. She
slid across the rushes several feet before she came to a stop. Her sword
clanked somewhere out of reach and she turned to search for it, but Aldar
approached.
She
whimpered as a sharp pain rippled across her belly.
"Been
on your back more than in a training yard, I see. Are you out of practice,
Finna?" He chuckled as he began to circle her where she lay.
Another
cramp ripped through her, and instantly she feared for the babe in her womb.
Her
foolishness in coming here hit her then.
What have I
done?
she thought with fear, fear for more than herself. Her anger and hurt vanished,
and her vengence for Aldar and her loss of Valdrik were gone, replaced by fear
for the child growing within her.
She'd
thought herself wise once, before she'd met Valdrik.
She
flinched, sucked in a breath at the cold steel on her throat as Aldar came up
behind her. She dared not move.
She
had been everything but wise for too long.
"I
never imagined us parting this way, niece. But if I do not kill you, then I
shall look weak."
"Aye,
you would." Finna straightened her neck, preparing herself. "Yet, I
wonder, uncle, with my father gone and me too, who will you plague with your existence?"
"Finna!"
Valdrik's voice met her ears.
At
first, she thought she'd imagined it, that he was calling to her from the
afterlife, but she jerked her attention to the door the same as her uncle did.
Valdrik
charged in with men behind him.
Her
husband looked like vengeance come to life.
Aldar
removed his sword from her neck and grabbed her up by the back of her kirtle,
yanking her to her feet.
"Your
man has come to save you after all," he hissed in her ear and shoved her
forward into the fray erupting as Aldar's men gained their feet to meet
Valdrik's men head on.
Finna
spun for her sword, but could not find it. Before she knew what had happened,
another large hand shoved her to the wall, behind a post where she fell out of
the way. The clang of steel meeting chorused through the hall as Valdrik
attacked her uncle with a force to be reckoned with.